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chalkrevelations · 3 years

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SO. Word of Honor, Episode 10, and everyone is deep in their feelings … well, their feeling, which is misery.

First, due diligence, and I really mean it on this one: SPOILERS not just for this ep but for the entire show. Out of the car, for now, and come back later, if you want to watch the whole thing unspoiled.

Well, it’s the breakup episode, y’all. Everyone is wallowing in misery, and Our Couple is taking that out on themselves and in some cases (:cough:WKX:cough) on everybody around them. We open on sad-sack Wen Kexing digging sadly in the dirt with a sword, the bodies of the Four Sages of Anji laid out beside him as he gives a RIP speech about how you have to be careful when making friends, because they’ll turn out to be bad news, which is clearly yet another warning about himself, because I don’t think anyone in the mob who killed these aging hippies in the last ep was a friend (although I suppose it could be argued that WKX is talking about their friendship with Gao Chong getting them killed) and anyway, you have to understand that WKX is a demon under the skin, not even really human, you guys, and he’s only ever going to disappoint everyone. Has he not made this clear by now? His sword breaks at this point, which probably ought to tell him he’s not going to be able to bury any of this mess. Then Zhou Zishu shows up and is understandably unhappy at the way his decision last ep to walk out on faith for this guy has gone completely pear-shaped, and he asks some rather pointed questions about whether four dead Sages of Anji is what WKX wanted and if he’s happy now – questions that sound, my dude, a little confrontational. I mean, I think you’re entitled, given the situation, but I’m just sayin’. WKX flings off ZZS’s hand and wants to know if “Leader Zhou” has only ever killed bad people, which is a hit that lands, and it hurts, just like it was supposed to, and this is definitely one of those nightmare scenarios where everyone just keeps digging themselves deeper. ZZS is all, FINE THEN, and leaves. Again. Because WKX is apparently a demon in human form who’s only ever going to disappoint everyone. Including his zhiji. I love you with all of my heart, ZZS, but a little bit, you come off like you only showed up to twist the knife, my man. Anyway, ZZS stomps off to go mope at Yuefan Tower, the scene of his bad decision to trust this guy BEFORE finding out he sets up revenge murders for fun. We’re treated to a flashback sequence of some of ZZS’s Tian Chuang state-sanctioned violence, including a pile of bodies in a burned-out house with a little girl who reaches out to him and calls him “shushu” (which I think is a reference to something that actually happens in Qi Ye); killing that official dude and making Jing’an drink poison, from Ep 1; inserting the Seven Nails into Bi Changfeng - a whole bunch of bad shit that WKX has dug back up way more successfully with a few words than that grave he was trying to dig with his broken sword. ZZS sighs mournfully and unfairly beautifully (your FACE, my dude) over the fact that he thought he found his soulmate, but he was apparently WRONG, and meanwhile, we see Han Ying lurking worriedly and devotedly in the background.

Then, both of these morose motherfuckers proceed to drink themselves (even more) stupid over each other, WKX in a brothel and ZZS moping by himself downstairs at the (No Longer) Getting Lucky Inn, leaving poor Han Ying and A-Xiang to eventually deal with them. ZZS is literally falling over as he calls for more wine – you are a sloppy drunk, laopo, although I have to admit, you’ve worked your way through a lot of bottles, so I suppose it’s understandable – and WKX proceeds to drink his four ... five? ... four, I think, girls under the table and clearly has no intention of sleeping with them, because it might interfere with his waxing drunkenly and mournfully about finding a thing you thought you’d lost forever but not being able to keep it at the price of giving up your big revenge murder plan you’ve been working out since you were 8 years old. (Also because he’s gay af. I’m just sayin’.)

So, yeah, Han Ying and A-Xiang eventually have to deal with these two, and for my money, the single most important scene of the ep - thematically, at least - is the one we get between A-Xiang and WKX, where a couple of big things are going on. One of the themes I see again, running through this ep, is the separation between the human world and the world of “ghosts,” and how that line is policed, and how Wen Kexing tries to maintain it as a bright line, in order to maintain his own distance from Zhou Zishu and the world. Now that things have gone so spectacularly wrong with ZZS, he’s going to dig in on the “ghost” side of that line for all he’s worth – much harder than he was digging that grave for the Four Sages of Anji, given he breaks the sword and gives up halfway through on that one, but this one he’s determined to get all the way to the bedrock on. So yes, in this scene we get the theme made explicit again, of human-ghost separation - which will echo and rebound throughout the rest of the show, until we see its awful, gory truth made manifest when it turns out WKX is horrifically correct and A-Xiang is NOT, in fact, going to be allowed by “humankind” to leave Ghost Valley and walk up to the human world with her lover, while meanwhile, if WKX is going to get out of the valley, he’s not staying in the mortal world but is going to end up on the icy remote mountaintop. BUT ALSO, this may be the first time we really see the show put A-Xiang forward as a proxy for Wen Kexing. This is going to be an increasingly weighted Thing as we go on, of course, but what I didn’t remember on my first watch-through - even after I realized what they were doing with the A-Xiang/Cao Weining and Wen Kexing/Zhou Zishu parallels further down the road – is that, in this first time we really see it, it’s not even about their respective love interests, it’s about their respective relationships with Chengling. I mean, clearly, clearly, when WKX is being a drunk asshole to A-Xiang about how she’s been too long in her human skin (and huh, interesting that, when we also have instances where fake skin disguises are literal), and DON’T EVER FORGET WHO YOU ARE, HEARTLESS AMETHYST FIEND GHOST VALLEY MASTER HEARTLESS AMETHYST FIEND, and who among them would ever pity you me you, he’s really talking about his recent breakup with ZZS, in which he got called a crazed psychopath just for setting up a few amusing revenge murders. But here’s the thing – what triggers the diatribe is A-Xiang saying she feels sorry for Chengling trapped in Yueyang Sect, in the course of nattering on about what’s up with Chengling, and what she and Chengling have been doing together, and how much Chengling misses WKX. Which is, A-Xiang tells WKX, a lot. After which WKX puffs himself up and proceeds to be a drunk asshole to her, because of course, he’s not worthy of having anyone care about him, they might think he’s human, or something, and then he’s only going to get hurt again when they find out he’s NOT. So, all that happens. We also find out in this conversation that Changing Ghost was responsible for the pile of heads; that A-Xiang was at the Funeral/Wedding Game and saw Deng Kuan become the last survivor and get set free in much better condition than he later showed up at Yueyang Sect, so what the hell’s happened to him in between; and that A-Xiang definitely thinks her Murder Dad master is crazy but isn’t afraid that he’ll end up killing her someday. I mean, let’s be clear, I don’t think she’s absolutely positive that he won’t go crazy and kill her – she’s just not afraid of it. Zhou Ye is fantastic here, because she has A-Xiang give WKX this gorgeous little smile that’s so simple yet just so filled with love and trust and faith and everything that must have kept his heart alive all those years, the one that she probably gave him even after he burned her mouth on congee that was too hot, and I end up clutching my chest because I think she’s killed me. And then in a horrible twist on what’s eventually coming down the pike, she tells him that she’d follow him even if he’s crazy, and that if he killed her, she’d even follow him in death, and GOD. MY HEART. Because we’re going to see that in fact, he’s going to almost follow her into death, and then he’s going to dream of her leaving him instead of actually staying with him after death, and the only thing keeping me together at this point is the idea that Nian’xiang will actually be A-Xiang reincarnated so that she can be with WKX and the rest of her family again.

Anyway, all of this is apparently a dress rehearsal for WKX, because he then gets himself dolled up in some luscious green robes and proceeds to go to Tragicomic Ghost’s mansion in order to terrorize the troops and spread the misery. He requests a report from all of his top ten nine eight devils; credits them with three Funeral Games (I guess we don’t get to see the other two), annihilating Danyang Sect, destroying Mirror Lake Sect, killing Mount Tai Sect’s leader (Ao Laizi), and leaving a pile of heads for Yueyang Sect to find. He’s doing his best Lunatic Wen bit, but come on, my friend, do they really deserve credit for ALL of that? Do they really? It sounds like you have your suspicions, as well, because you want to know who was responsible for the Mirror Lake massacre. Everyone looks around, pointedly not meeting his eyes, so, hmm, it must have been Long-Tongued Ghost, right? Right? (Who we last saw getting killed and getting his (Danyang) Glazed Armor took by Wen Kexing while pretending to be Hanged Ghost.) Changing Ghost, who’s supposedly Long-Tongued Ghost’s superior and who’s smart enough to sense the wind shifting, even if he’s not sure in which direction, hastily says that LTGhost doesn’t listen to him anymore. (Yeah, because he’s dead.) At this point, White Grim Reaper is dumb enough to draw attention to himself, and WKX chokes him out just ‘cause. ‘Cause he’s Lunatic Wen, and fuck you, that’s why. Both Tragicomic Ghost and Beauty Ghost look more Completely Done With This Bullshit than scared – in contrast to the men, who are shitting their pants - which is an early indication that their relationships with WKX are different than his relationships with the male Devils. WKX also makes some pointed comment about how oh dear, he’s killed someone, and they were already low on manpower, but as a chief of GHOSTS, that’s all he has to work with, isn’t that RIGHT, Changing Ghost – which sounds on the surface kind of like policing that line between ghosts and humans, but really seems more like he has his suspicions about exactly who Changing Ghost is actually working with, because while he may not be as smart as A-Xu, he’s not DUMB. Now, let’s all come up with a plan to fuck over the Five Lakes Alliance during the Hero’s Conference. Aaaaand … end scene (and ep).

Meanwhile, Han Ying is dealing with his poor, drunk dumbass charge, and we see ZZS wake up in some richly appointed rooms, in some strange bed, and he’s clearly thinking “Oh snap. What I do last night?” Also, feeling the hangover. Once he manages to get his boots on, he notices a shrine, complete with candles, and just about this point, Han Ying busts in like he’s WKX or something (although to be fair, it is his bedroom), and wants to know exactly wtf is wrong with ZZS, getting blackout drunk with his actual face hanging out like he doesn’t care who recognizes him? (I just have to take a moment here, and point out that ZZS, who went all in, in the last ep, and who will continue to be the more open one as this relationship goes on, is being berated here for not wearing a mask, for showing his real self, while the issue for both A-Xiang and WKX is going to continue to be keeping on a protective mask/skin, even though WKX accuses A-Xiang himself in this very ep of thinking the mask is real and not just a cover for her true face. Anyway.) Oh, and also, My Lord, how is your injury? DO YOU NEED SOMEONE TO TENDERLY CARE FOR YOU? I like this scene, because Han Ying’s actually kind of angry at ZZS, and a little bit, he shows it, and we get to see that he’s not spineless, even in the (blindingly beautiful) face of ZZS, he’s just devoted. And if that means keeping this dumbass safe from himself, well, Han Ying will try to do that, too, even if it’s enough to drive him to find religion, as we also find out in this scene, explaining the shrine. I suppose he needs all the help he can get. Anyway, ZZS tells him that he’s too mean to die just yet, although he doesn’t expect any blessings on his path, and Han Ying responds – and I think this is important, given ZZS’s decision last ep to spend the rest of his life living instead of dying – that “any day we live is a day gained.” (HAN YING. MY BELOVED.) ZZS pulls some Glazed Armor out of his robes to give to Han Ying, and they both realize that it looks exactly like two pieces Han Ying already has his hands on, gdi WKX. At this point, ZZS reiterates that he just wants Han Ying to lay low and stay safe, Han Ying reiterates his undying devotion, and ZZS has clearly had it with these kids and their starry-eyed devotion. He tries telling Han Yng again to just live a good life - as if Han Ying is at all wired that way – before making some dramatic pronouncement about expecting to have to deal with what’s coming to him in hell and sweeping out the door in the last we see of him this ep.

Let’s see, other things that happened:

Gao Chong, Zhao Jing and Shen Shen confer over their complete loss of face in the run-up to the Hero’s Conference; Shen Shen gets very offended and denies killing Ao Laizi, which is the rumor going around town; Gao Chong says the Ghost Valley isn’t responsible for Ao Laizi’s death (which they are) or for spreading the rhyme about the Glazed Armor (which they are); Zhao Jing says Five Lakes Alliance can’t get a reputation for forcing other sects to do things (when he can manipulate them into doing what he wants), and Shen Shen wants to know WHY THE HELL NOT (oh, Shen Shen) when the jianghu has always been, and I QUOTE, “a place where the strong pery on the weak,” so again, I have to kind of side with WKX on this one about the hive of scum and villainy. Or I would if you guys seemed capable of actually accomplishing anything.

Elsewhere in Yueyang Sect, it’s been Bullying Hour again for Chengling, and A-Xiang is furious when she finds out, threatening to break the legs of whoever’s responsible for smacking him around (she really is like the most delightful Chengxian love-child, I have to say). She also has some Wolong Nuts – crispy and delicious! – for him. Gao Xiaolian shows up with some treats, but Chengling doesn’t want her food, and also he doesn’t want to marry her, because he doesn’t want to be Gao Chong’s puppet, which is kind of new, because he said a couple of eps ago at the Five Lakes monument that he would abide by Gao Chong’s decisions. I guess now that he’s found out from A-Xiang that their Murder Dads are still around, he thinks there’s still a chance to run away with them. Gao Xiolian runs away, crying. Harsh, Chengling, but it does give him the chance to complain to A-Xiang that he’s effectively under house arrest, WHERE ARE OUR MURDER DADS TO SAVE ME?

Last but not least, there’s this incredible scene with Yu Loser Qiufeng, leader of Mount Hua Sect, in which one of the Mount Hua Virgins (tm WKX) comes complaining that everyone is looking down on them. Yu Qiufeng tells him that the entire jianghu is falling apart and to suck it up, and then another Virgin (tm WKX) shows up to say that some people from Mount Tai Sect are here to talk about Dead Ao Laizi, because the Five Lakes Alliance killed him omg. Yu Quifeng’s response is literally “Tell them I’m not here,” and when the disciple wants to know how he can possibly say that, Qiufeng’s response is literally “Say I went out. Say I’m sick. Say I’m dead.” (OMG, Zongzhu can’t see you right now, he’s dead!)

#wen kexing #zhou zishu #gu xiang #han ying #zhang chengling #yu qiufeng #word of honor #word of honor episode reax

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avengershumanresources · 3 years

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blood 5 - Strange/Stark!Reader

Relationship: Dr. Strange/Princess!Stark!Reader

Rating: M

Warnings: Adult Themes, eventual smut, adult language, implied sexual violence, general violence

Synopsis: Reader is the daughter of the legendary King Anthony Stark, Uniter of Lands, The Iron Defender, and leader of the realm. When the king disappears during battle, hope is lost and he is presumed dead.

When the late king’s uncle, Obadiah, takes the throne until your brother Peter is of age, he quickly arranges a marriage for you with a wicked king in a neighboring kingdom.

With the realms politics in question, and rumors of an upcoming siege to overthrow Peter’s rule before it starts, you quickly learn who is loyal to the crown and who is not.

part 4 - part 6

Masterlist

Chapter Playlist

5 - a gift for the princess

Stephen wove through the rowdy crowds of the pub, just jumping out of the in time to avoid being covered in vomit. Men sang, women laughed, and the ale was flowing.

He had to give Natalia some credit for choosing such a clever cover for their meeting in the back of the pub.

Spying the owner, John nodded his head toward a discreet door behind the bar.

Stephen slipped past the crowds, ducking under the tray of a hurrying barmaid, and slipping into the room.

Natalia was sitting in a chair, rising when he walked into the room. She started talking but Stephen’s attention was fixed on the dark haired prince across the space.

“What is he doing here?” he demanded sharply, throwing a finger toward the prince. “You’re supposed to be in Asgard.”

“That’s what I’m trying to explain you sack of stupid man,” she shoved him toward an empty chair. “There was a complication.”

Stephen immediately noted that James wasn’t in the room. Neither was the man he’d sent them after.

“I’m- so sorry,” he started but Loki burst out laughing.

“Honestly, you’re the Sorcerer Supreme?” he scoffed, rolling his eyes. “James isn’t dead.”

“Will you both shut up,” Nat snapped at the pair. “James is with the quarry in a rented room across town. Loki?”

He sighed and grabbed hers and Stephen’s hand, a cloud of green smoke enveloping them.

When the air cleared, they were in the room of an inn Stephen had visited frequently over the years, the space relatively unchanged for the two figures who glanced up at their entrance.

James was leaned back in a chair, picking out pieces of an apple, while Master Mordo sat on the edge of the bed with a book.

“Mordo?” Stephen asked, astonished at seeing the man before him. “I thought you were dead.”

“As far as Brock is concerned, I am,” he replied, standing to take the other sorcerers hand in greeting.

“I don’t understand,” he looked between the group before Loki broke the silence.

“He’s the one who poisoned the princess,” Loki gestured to Mordo, a smirking tugging on his lips.

Stephen’s hands lit up with shields in a heartbeat, a glowing dagger at Mordo’s throat.

“Explain,” he hissed.

“Stephen, calm yourself, it’s a misunderstanding,” he replied. “I’m trying to help.”

Stephen lowered his weapon slightly, signaling for the man to continue.

“The spell was supposed to put her to sleep,” he explained. “Brock is planning something wicked with Obadiah and the princess is key. I needed a means of moving her without stirring attention.”

Stephen’s hands fell to his sides, spells disappearing as they fell. That explained the black smoke when he’d cleared the spell from your system- an unusual occurrence for a simple poisoning.

“Obadiah plans to wed the princess to Brock in order to secure his army,” Mordo relaxed a little with the active threat to his life now gone, continuing his explanation. “Obadiah is the one who ordered King Anthony dead. He means to secure the throne and kill the prince, but Brock intends to double cross him and secure everything for himself after the prince is dead.”

“Our men wouldn’t let that happen,” Stephen shook his head.

“That’s not the concern,” Mordo murmured, exchanging an uneasy look with Loki over Stephen’s shoulder. “Securing a lineage in the princess’ bloodline makes his claims all the more legitimate.

The trickster snapped his fingers and Natalia and James froze into place. Time had been temporarily stopped for all but the three magic users.

“Stephen, there’s something you need to know,” Loki explained, looking to Mordo who nodded solemnly. “What do you know of the princess’ lineage?”

“Her father was the late king, Peter is her brother-,” he started but Loki stopped him with a wave of his hand.

“Her maternal lineage?” he asked. “Her mother, Queen Alexandra, was born of a powerful family of seidr magic users, she was one of the last of the fallen kingdom of Vanaheim.”

“Seidr is extinct,” Stephen shook his head in disbelief but the older sorcerers sighed. “It’s been extinct for centuries.”

“It was said to have died with the queen,” Mordo picked up. “And we let that rumor circulate to take any interested parties interest off of the royal family, in particular a newborn baby girl.”

“I was a child at the time, but my family was consulted by King Anthony for a remedy for his child. He’d lost his wife to greed and desire for her power. He wanted to prevent losing the baby in the same way,” Loki explained. “My mother’s most promising student, Amora, volunteered to the task. She sealed away the princess’ intrinsic power, effectively removing her from the attention of other magic users.”

“Loki had been the princess’ intended for this reason,” Mordo added quietly. “It was a means to protect both the princess and the kingdom from the untapped power going astray as she got older.”

“I was raised to ensure this secret went to the grave with those few who knew,” he explained, sending Stephen a knowing smirk. “Since there hadn’t been much concern as she grew, and the princess had obvious affections elsewhere, it was decided the marriage could wait.”

Elsewhere, being himself, Stephen realized sheepishly. To what extent did their unspoken affection further endanger the kingdom’s stability? Had he declared his intentions sooner, could he have prevented Brock’s move in the first place?

“When Amora was exiled of Asgard, she built a ruthless reputation that caught the attention of my former King,” Mordo frowned between the men. “Brock was, needless to say, very interested in a particular piece of information Amora provided about the princess. He banished me and ordered Amora to have me killed, but I managed to escape.”

“Brock intends to marry the princess and have Amora force the princess into his control,” Loki’s voice lowered sharply. “Her seidr would serve as an unlimited pool of power for both Brock and Amora, and the princess would be helpless to do anything about it.”

“Can’t he just have her marry him under the spell as well?” Stephen frowned, knowing a number of appropriate spells off the top of his head. It wouldn’t have been the first time he heard of someone using unethical means to sefure a union.

“That’s where this gets interesting,” Loki snickered, looking to Mordo in amusement. “I haven’t had an opportunity to strengthen my cloaking spell around her. I’d managed to renew it when I said goodbye the day of the funeral, but it’s weakened significantly in the meantime.”

“Amora’s magic is too weak to penetrate pure seidr, so the princess would have to be bound in marriage before she could twist her will,” Mordo explained. “The marriage ceremony she intends to perform to Brock’s customs will involve blood magic, and no matter the princess’ true feelings, she’ll be stuck trapped unless he is killed or the marriage is annulled in some other manner.”

“But that’s where this gets fun,” Loki purred in excitement. “The princess is in love with you. If her seidr continues in that direction, she should be able to continue to fight Amora’s influence. Possibly even after a union, if somehow this all falls through.”

The thought sent a little tickle off hope through his chest. At least if he stayed true in his desire, Stephen could protect you a little longer. Still, the marriage needed to be stopped before that even became a concern.

Not only was your wellbeing at stake, but Brock could not be left in control of the region with Amora at his side.

“Then what can we do?” Stephen asked and Loki waved his wave, breaking the time freezing spell and picking up without missing a beat.

“I’ll protest the union, as her original intended,” he replied. “Because the princess trusts you, you play the most important part in this all.”

Stephen listened while the group detailed their plan. It was an ambitious scheme, but Stephen had to admit, if they all played their parts to perfection- it could work.

But would it come at the cost of losing your good faith forever?

(—)

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Stephen cupped his forehead, the headache forming when he saw Peter hunched over with a cloak over his head, speaking discreetly to a group of cloaked figures.

They’d just finished their plan when he spied the poorly disguised prince and his friends.

“...cannot stand,” he was saying before his gaze wandered to Stephen’s approaching form and he cringed.

“What’s going on here?” Stephen asked, crossing his arms. The other figures turned around. Lord Ned and Lady Michelle. “Don’t tell me... are you planning a coup?”

Peter’s eyes went wide and he gestured for Stephen to sit, grabbing the sorcerer by the sleeve of his robes and pulling him down.

“Don’t speak so casually,” he snapped, ushering the sorcerer into an empty seat. “Surely you’ve heard?”

“I’ve heard a great many things, probably more than you, your highness,” he answered sarcastically. “Do be more specific.”

“About the wedding?” he raised a brow, watching for a reaction.

“Of your sister? I’ve just learned,” he murmured, leaning in and ignoring the pointed looks his companions by the door gave him.

“Brock intends to propose tomorrow,” he explained. “But Obadiah isn’t telling my sister until the morning. He’s taken my mother and Morgan under house arrest.”

That was a bigger development than Stephen had expected from the boy.

“He intends to kill the youngest princess and queen mother if the princess does not marry Brock,” Michelle added, looking forlornly at the table.

“Where’s the princess now?” Were the next words out of Stephen’s mouth.

When he’d left you hours before, you’d been sound asleep in your chamber. With the wards and protections he’d thrown around you, there wasn’t any reason you shouldn’t still be there.

“Safe in bed,” Peter assured him. “We need a plan. Brock’s army is twice the size of our without our allies.”

“Allies?” Loki had dropped into the bench, shoving Stephen to the side. “Do continue, your majesty.”

“Can you can open the border and prepare your troops?” Peter asked the prince hopefully, but Loki frowned.

“No, but I might be able to stall the marriage,” he replied coolly, a subtle wink toward Stephen. “You know how your sister and I have danced around one another. It’s time I make my claim.”

Peter scoffed, nodding toward Stephen.

“Is he okay with that?” he asked boldly, earning a laugh from the other prince.

“Strange knows his place,” Loki answered cockily. “He swore his little oaths and we both know the current king isn’t going to let him out as easily as your father would have. What other option does the princess have?”

Peter’s gaze feel on Stephen having been not entirely convinced, but against Stephen’s better instinct, he nodded mechanically.

It was your best chance of survival. He had his own role to play down the line, so he let Loki convince the group of his undying love and affection for you.

By the end, Peter seemed convinced that the Asgardian prince could get the marriage thrown away.

While the men gathered and discussed their plans, no one noticed the young Lady and the redhaired assassin conversing quietly in the shadows.

Nor did they notice when they slipped out the back to meet with an old friend.

(—)

Wanda found Stephen scribbling down notes on a piece of floating parchment the next morning. Books were floating through the air, and he meticulously thumbed through pages as they moved around him.

It was clear her friend had been up all night, the bags under his eyes exposing the unspoken truth.

On the table was an array of ingredients, a small flame burning under a concoction of bubbling green.

“What are you up to, Strange?” she asked suspiciously when she saw the chapter of the last book he had consulted. “An elixir?”

“A gift-,” he let out a tired sigh, eyes looking miserably to the paperwork strewn in front of him.

“For whom?” Wanda’s eyes widen and her brows shot to her hairline when she read through the incantation. She knew it well, an old, but reliable mixture.

“For the princess.”

(--) 6 - a promise

TAG LIST (message to be added!):

@ayamenimthiriel @ladynothing @im-a-bi-disaster-help @idkwhatthisislol

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crystalgirl259 · 3 years

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The Flame and the Dragon Chapter 22

Chapter 22: The Frosty Rescue

"This is the best day ever!" Nelson cheered as they skated around the frozen lake. Everyone was still skating around, except Echo, who was sat on the bank with Kai's horse Flame. Kai couldn't help but agree with the child, really enjoying himself for the first time in years. As much as Kai loved his siblings, they were too busy trying to make ends meet to really have fun, with the odd exceptions of Lloyd. Their little brother was the only light Kai and Nya had in their lives.

The brunette really hoped his siblings were alright without him.

Despite things getting better between him and Cole, Kai still felt trapped within the castle, so it was nice to get out and do something, even if it was just some ice-skating. As they skated around, Echo looked up at the sky and saw the dark clouds rolling in. He frowned at this. He had thought it would be clear skies all day, so where had those clouds come from?

"We'd better hurry back guys, it's starting to get stormy." He called for the others. All four of them groaned in disappointment, but complied and started skating over to Echo and Flame. Kai mounted his faithful horse and the others transformed into their creature forms, and just as Kai was about the ride Flame home, the stallion suddenly froze. They looked past Flame's head and saw a small creature standing in the snow a few feet away from them.

It appeared to be a type of bird.

It had two small wings and four small, clawed legs, with a long tail. It had two eyes that sat lightly in its sockets with a thin, sharp beak. Its skin was thin but strong and it was covered in short, thin feathers. Its feather colors were mostly dark purple and black. It didn't look at all intimidating, being only the size of a tennis ball, but something about it set the others on the edge.

"What is that?" Ronin asked, and that set the creature off. It suddenly let out the loudest, banshee-like scream Kai had ever heard. The sound was so loud it actually hurt their ears. The sound scared Flame and he ran in the opposite direction towards the frozen lake. With the speed, he was running at Flame slipped and this caused him to break the ice, exposing the icy waters below. Kai and the others started to scream as Flame started to try and buck them off him, sending Nelson flying into the air.

He went flying into the water and sank into the darkness.

"Where is he?!" Jay cried as they jumped off the still scared Flame and started desperately looking for the child.

"HHHEEELLLPPP MMMEEE!" Nelson garbled as his head vanished again. Kai saw this and, acting solely on instinct, he jumped into the freezing lake after him. Thankfully Nelson was close to the surface so Kai could grab his arms. Unfortunately, there was a strong current pulling them away from the hole in the ice, and that combined with Nelson's added weight and lack of oxygen meant Kai couldn't swim them to safety. The others saw this and they sprang into action.

"Hold on, guys! We will save you!" Jay cried and they started scanning the ice for the pair. Jay soon found Kai under the ice, banging his fist up against it while his other hand gripped Nelson and his feet kicked furiously under them to keep them afloat. As soon as Jay saw them underneath the ice and called for the other. Ronin rushed over to Jay, pulling out his dagger, and stabbed at the ice, freeing Kai and Nelson. They both emerged from underneath the ice, cough up the water from their lungs and shivering as the cold air froze their sore limbs.

When he regained some strength, Kai fully pulled Nelson out of the water and onto the ice with the others, but he stayed in the water until he caught his breath.

"Oh, Nelson, thank God you're safe." Echo smiled in relief as he checked the child over for any injuries.

"I wasn't frightened." Nelson grinned and they all rolled their eyes. The moment of relief was shattered, however, what the little bird from before suddenly shot up into the air and stared down at the group. Kai felt like he had seen those cold, soulless eyes before. He gasped when he realized those were the eyes of that creepy man Kai had met in the forest where Cole saved him from that monster. Before he could tell the others, the bird dove into the water next to Kai and disappeared into the darkness.

It was so dark the others couldn't see what it was doing, but they could faintly make out a purple glow under the rippling water.

Kai tried to climb out of the lake to safety, but it was already too late. The bird had infected the pondweeds below with dark magic and the plants suddenly shot up underneath him and wrapped around his leg, pulling him back under the water. Kai screamed and clawed at the ice, but it was hopeless. The others all try to pull him back up, but he slipped underneath the surface. Kai struggled against the weeds around his leg, but he couldn't get away.

Suddenly he saw a dark shape floating beside him.

He squinted his eyes to see what it was and almost screamed when he saw it was the creepy man from before, giving him a sadistic and perverted grin. It almost looked like the man didn't need air. As Kai struggled, the man swam forward and suddenly forced a rough and passionate kiss on his tanned lips, catching Kai off guard. When the man finally let him go, Kai reflectively gagged, but instantly regretted it when the air in his lungs was replaced with icy water.

The evil man just smiled as he faded back into the shadows of the water, leaving Kai to his watery grave.

Kai floundered, panicked, and made things worse as he tended to do. He was mad at himself for letting this happen even. Maybe he deserved this for being so stubborn, or not thinking before he acts, or trading places with Nya and Lloyd, or being cruel, or leaving the castle grounds without Cole's permission. He could hear someone shouting his name from the surface, but he couldn't tell who it was. The water garbled the sound, and his hearing seemed to be the first sense to go.

He could taste and smell the dirty lake water choking his lungs, he fell numb to the chill of the temperature, and he saw that this was probably the end for Kai Ash Smith.

Drowning in a frozen lake after not only breaking his promise and being forced to kiss a pervert who was trying to kill. Now there was not any time to appreciate the fact he might've been friends with an actual prince. Not just any prince, but the legendary hybrid Dragon Lord. He coughed causing more water to seep in, and the sheer burn he felt in his chest told him that this was it. In his fading moments, Kai felt something big and strong wrap around him and the water rushed down past him.

All of a sudden everything came back into focus.

Kai hacked up what had to be a gallon and a half of water. Jay and Echo were stood not too far away, both looking rueful and on the verge of crying. Nelson was full-on sobbing into Ronin's shoulder as the troll tried to calm him down. But when Kai did a headcount, he saw they were all standing in front of him and none of them looked wet, with the exception of Nelson. In his exhaustion, he searched to see who had saved him from drowning and realized his feet are nowhere near the ground.

He looked up, finding his body rested in the arms of a large black dragon.

Before Kai could work himself to thank his savior, he saw the burning rage in Cole's green eyes as he looked straight ahead. His scaly face was not giving away his true emotions. Kai wanted to say something, but he felt the cold claws of sleep fighting to claim him. In his muddled state, Kai just assumed he was safe with Cole and retreated to dreamland. He rested his head against Cole's strong chest and falling asleep to the sound of his mighty heartbeat.

Cole huffed frosty air out his nose, but said nothing and started carrying Kai back to the castle on foot.

The others just stood there in a mixer of relief, fear, and sadness as they watched their master carry his pale, almost lifeless, captive back to his prison.

"What have we done?" Jay finally asked in a terrified whisper, but no one had an answer...

****************

Kai shivered as he sat on the floor of the dungeon, his wrists bound about his head in black, rusted chains. His eyes were closed and his head hung low as the cold stabbed into his tanned skin like tiny needles. A large granite door with a tiny barred window marked the only entrance to this dungeon's cell. Beyond the door was a large, dark, damp room. The cell they were in was full of rusty chains, rubble, and rat droppings. A single, dim torch allowed him to see carved out words in the stone walls, faded and forgotten by time itself, but Kai couldn't make out what they said.

When they returned to the castle, Cole had the brunette checked over to make sure he wasn't seriously injured.

Once he was sure Kai would leave, he dragged the teen to the dungeons and imprisoned him there. He didn't even bother to change Kai out of his torn, soaked clothes, and this caused Kai to shiver even more. The prince was now standing in the doorway, glaring down at Kai with burning green eyes. He hadn't said a word to Kai since he saved him, and that alone scared the teen more than anything so far.

"You said you'd never leave." He finally said, hurt, anger, and betrayal echoing through the cell.

"I-I-I wasn't trying to l-l-leave, I j-j-just wanted to have s-s-some fun w-w-with the others." He stuttered out, his entire frame shaking from the freezing air. He had thought that Cole might not have been pleased to learn he had left, but he had thought that he could reason with him and smooth it over when he learned that he had gone with Jay, Echo, Ronin, and Nelson and that he was planning on coming back. Unfortunately, Cole wasn't in an understanding mood or sympathetic to his suffering.

"You broke your word and for that, you will rot in this dungeon forever!" He snarled and stormed out the cell without another word. He made sure to slam the cell door as hard as he could as he left, the sound echoing loudly through the entire dungeon and causing Kai to flinch in fright, still not opening his eyes. As he listened to Cole stomping away, Kai couldn't stop the tears raining from his tightly closed amber orbs. He should have known better than to hope.

Cole would never be anything but a monstrous beast...

#The Flame and the Dragon #beauty and the beast #ninjago #ninjago jay #ninjago cole #ninjago kai #ninjago ronin #ninjago nelson #ninjago echo #lavashipping

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a-mellowtea · 4 years

Text

Divergence

n. A point of separation; where routes split and go in a different direction.

She knows they can’t stay together.

She’s sure he knows it too, though he won’t be the one to say it. He doesn’t say much of anything, anymore. The weeks that have passed since they left Berelith have been filled with strained silence, heavy and cold and, as much as she hates it, she understands. He’s still grieving. They both are. She wonders if they’ll ever really stop.

She wonders about a lot of things, now. She tries not to - it won’t do her any good - but the reality of it all seeps in anyways. The Force is quiet too, frayed and dark and bloodstained at the edges. She’s afraid to reach for it; afraid of the raw emptiness that she knows is waiting in the places her friends and fellow Jedi used to be. She wonders how they died; if they were afraid, and in pain, or if it was quick. Had they been shown mercy? Had they even had a moment to realize what was happening?

She thinks, sometimes, on the nights without dreams, that she can still feel some of them. She never knows who. Maybe it’s someone familiar, like Master Kenobi or Master Plo. Maybe it’s a Jedi she’s never met, searching the Force for survivors, for some reassurance that they’re not alone. Some nights, she almost reaches back.

But then she remembers. They are alone. The Order is gone. Their home, the Temple, is gone. And Anakin - the bright warmth at the other end of their bond - is gone. For all she knows, they’re just echoes, and she can’t afford to lose herself in chasing them.

The Jedi are all but extinct. And the galaxy is a much scarier place without them.

They’ve only stopped a few times. First, to go to ground. A Y-Wing would attract too much attention, and there was already chatter about the new Empire’s plans to phase out the older ship models. So, she had risked everything, one more time, and had gone back to Trace and Rafa Martez. The gamble had paid off. The sisters had given them a place to stay, and it had been them - not her and Rex - to sell the Y-Wing for scrap. A few days later, and they had a new ship; shaky, but serviceable. She’d almost gotten Rex to smile when she’d suggested they name it the “Twilight”.

Trace had asked her if it was true; if the Jedi really had betrayed the Republic. She hadn’t had an answer - not one she was confident in, anyways - but she’d given one. Even if they had, even if she truly believed that the Council would have ever gone that far and done the things Sidious claimed, they hadn’t deserved to be slaughtered. Not so dispassionately, not so indiscriminately, and not by the Clones - the men - they had stood and fought beside for so long. Men they’d trusted. Men who hadn’t been given a choice.

She had been glad to leave Coruscant behind.

She wonders about them, too. The rest of the 501st, and the 212th, and the 104th. She can’t bear to do it for long, otherwise she finds herself back there: on Berelith, standing before row upon row of graves filled with the bodies of good men. She wonders if anyone else would have bothered to bury them. She wonders how many they left, corpses twisted and trapped in the wreckage where nothing and no one will ever reach. And sometimes, she wonders if she had had any right to leave her lightsaber there amongst them: men she had not wanted to hurt, but who had died anyways. She likes to think, maybe, they would have allowed her that privilege; to lay herself, and everything she had been, to rest alongside the fellow soldiers who had given her so much.

Ahsoka Tano is, for all intents and purposes, dead. So is Commander Rex. Two more names added to a list: the ten thousand that died, and the six million that died with them.

Which is part of what makes this so hard.

She doesn’t want to leave; to lose what little stability they have left in the turbulence of a changing galaxy. She fought to keep him by her side. He fought to do the very same in return. But if they stay together, that’s what it will be forever: a fight. They’re both soldiers, but he deserves better than that. His war is over. Hers will never be.

The night they reach Adarlon, she decides it’s time. The Minos Cluster is as good a place to disappear as any in the Outer Rim. Without her lightsabers, without her gear, no one will pay her any mind. Looking out over the bustling market from the wall of the spaceport, she imagines herself as one of them, just a face in the crowd, and almost convinces herself it could be her new normal.

Footsteps hit the durasteel ladder. She closes her eyes. It will hurt, for both of them, but it is the right thing to do. The certainty gives her courage.

“Supplies are onboard. Ready to get going?”

Ahsoka takes a breath. Lets it out slowly.

“I’m not coming with you, Rex,” she says. He sighs, so heavily it sounds painful, and sits next to her. She thinks for a moment he might try to dissuade her, but all he does is put a hand on her shoulder. The grounding gesture and the warmth - the acceptance - that radiates from it is somehow worse.

“I know,” he says, and squeezes lightly before drawing away. They’re both silent, but this time, it’s like it used to be. The kind of silence they had learned to read where words didn’t cut it.

“What are you going to do?” He asks, finally.

She shakes her head. “I don’t know. Not yet. But I think...” She stops and considers how to put it. “I think it would be best to get lost, for a while.”

“You tried that before.”

Ahsoka stiffens at his dry tone, but when she glances at him, the anger she expects isn’t there. He’s smirking. She relaxes on a huff of laughter. The snark is new from him, but welcome.

“Yeah,” she says. “I’m not very good at it.” Another gentle quiet, where the sounds of the city and the crowds below wash over them both. She raps her knuckles on the duracrete and grimaces. “I wish I was.”

“I don’t.” He doesn’t elaborate. He doesn’t need to. Ahsoka smiles; small, and tired, but real. It fades quickly.

“I’ll get you in too much trouble if I stick around. They’ll be looking for those that are left.”

“You could let me help.”

It’s not quite an accusation, but she hears one anyways, and just barely fights back a wince. It is his choice. She would never dream of taking that away from him; especially not now, after everything. But she has to make him understand that she’s making hers. So, she straightens a little and nods and finally faces him. Her voice is deceptively even.

“I know. I could also end up getting you killed.” It’s true, and she knows he knows it. He frowns, but she continues before he can protest, tone dipping with the weight of the weeks they’ve spent running and the years of it she knows will be ahead. “I need to know someone’s made it out of this, Rex. That someone lived.”

“So do I.”

“And I did,” she says. It’s not a lie, but it’s also not entirely the truth either, so she amends it a heartbeat later. “I will.”

He looks away. She watches him struggle; turn his own thoughts over and over in his mind, a private war raging behind eyes that have seen far too much yet so little. There are places she wants to tell him to go, things she’s read about in books at the Temple. The galaxy, even under the Empire, has things to offer him, but she’s not sure he wants them to begin with.

As if reading her mind, he shakes his head. “I was bred for war, Ahsoka,” he says, so softly it’s almost lost to the din of the spaceport. “Without it... I don’t know what I am.”

“Then go find out.” She can’t keep the sharpness out of her tone, but it’s one that borders on a plea. Rex sighs again, trembling somewhere just shy of a sob. She finally gives in and reaches out, fingers brushing the stubble lining his jaw.

“Live a life you choose to, Rex. If not for me, then for all of the people who can’t anymore.”

It’s maybe not a fair request, and it sits aching in her chest even as she says it. She’s not trying to be fair, though, because she knows he’d stay, if she asked him to. Watch her back, like he always has. He’d follow her anywhere. He’s also the only bright spot she can see in all the encroaching darkness and, even if by this she dims it, she cannot - she will not - be the reason that light dies.

He meets her gaze. “But not one that keeps me with you.”

It’s not a question. “No,” she replies. “I’m sorry.”

He falls silent. A breeze caresses her face. For one desperate moment, Ahsoka hesitates, and nearly changes her mind. Then, Rex nods, and reaches for the bag slung over his shoulder. He takes her hand and stands, pulling her with him, and then presses something into her palm. She blinks at the device glinting up at her for a long minute before realizing what it is.

“Keep it on you,” he says, gesturing to the comlink. For a second, she recognizes him - the Captain of the 501st, unwavering in his determination - and how much she’ll miss him threatens to overwhelm her. “If you ever need anything... I’ll find you.”

There’s a promise in those words, and Ahsoka smiles again. “I’ll hold you to that.”

She steps forward, movements sure, and wraps her arms around him. She feels him tense, but the next moment, the embrace is returned, strong and warm and safe, and she revels in it one last time.

“We’ll see each other again,” she whispers. “Believe that.” His hold tightens. He says nothing; makes no sound as damp seeps into the fabric at her shoulder. Her own eyes grow watery, and she swallows past the lump in her throat.

She can’t call herself a Jedi anymore, but it takes the will of one to finally, slowly, let go.

She steps away, a hand sliding to his shoulder, then back to her side. “Good luck.”

He smiles, and her heart clenches. It doesn’t ease as they climb back down to the platform, nor as she watches him walk up the ramp into the ship. She takes one more look at him, then turns and heads for the doors that will lead her into the market.

“Ahsoka.”

She stops, and looks back. His hand is raised in farewell. “May the Force be with you.”

She waits and watches until the ship has lifted off, and the crackle of the engine has faded, and she can just barely track the glittering speck careening off to join the stars. The words tumble from her lips softly, carried off into the night with the last reminder of a life she had once called home.

“May the Force be with you.”

#star wars #the clone wars #star wars the clone wars #ahsoka tano #captain rex #swtcw #edelwrites #this is uh...#well basically my love letter to the show #just a little continuation #i couldn't decide on an ending so #went with something simple #i still honestly cannot believe it's actually over

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jane-fucking-seymour · 3 years

Text

NEW LEGEND OF THE SIX - CHAPTER 25 - SECRET OF THE FAE

AO3 Link

They had lost.

Catherine rose with the others - almost all the others, actually, as Katherine had not rose - as they calmly looked up at their master, their lord.

Anne disappeared in a cloud of shadow, Maggie and Elizabeth’s screams a distant echo.

Anna disappeared in a surge of fire, a dragon screech almost drowning out the screams of thousands.

Cathy disappears in a cloud of blue and pink, the maddened wails of soldiers in her wake.

But Catherine… Catherine remains. And kneels. And offers her sword.

The person in front of her takes it, and he smiles.

Henry smiles, and Catherine feels… foreign relief.

“You’ve finally seen the light of day, have you?” he asks. “Go on. Fulfill your duty to your king.”

She stands, turns from Henry and Jane, who was suddenly there, and looks down at Maria. Maria is being held down by golden chains.

“Please,” Maria sobs. “Don’t do this, Catherine. Please-!”

The sword’s Blessed energy glows, but it’s angry. Pleading, almost.

“PLEASE!” Maria yells, but the sword swings down-

The Blessed suddenly gasps awake, sweating slightly as she gasps for air. She looks around wildly, grabbing her sword next to her-

-only for a steady hand to shoot out to keep the blade on the ground.

Catherine immediately whips her head towards the source, ready to fire-

“Catherine.”

She blinks.

“Anne?”

Anne Boleyn keeps her hand on Catherine’s, holding the blade down. Her gaze isn’t judging at all, instead calmly assessing the started Blessed before her. She keeps Catherine’s gaze until she sees the panic settle for the normal type of calm - well, as normal as it could be given the circumstances.

“You’re not usually this jumpy,” Anne observes, slowly releasing Catherine’s hand.

She steps back as Catherine puts the hand that was on her blade onto her forehead. She shakes her head. “Just a nightmare. Nothing more.”

“What happened?” Anne asks, standing up.

Catherine shakes her head. “It’s… it’s nothing.”

Anne is silent for a moment before she nods.

“Well, it’d be a shame for you to suddenly break your Oath, Blessed, so do try to remember which of us is friend and foe next time you reach for that blade of yours, yeah?” Anne asks, stretching.

Catherine chuckles. “And here I thought we were being friendly.”

“Eh, we’ve been reunited for a day now,” Anne says with a smirk, looking over at the girl. “Let’s get out of here.”

They both step out of the tents they made for the night, stepping into the clearing that they had set up camp. The City of Everlasting Promise seemed nearby - infuriatingly so.

“Still stuck in this loop, eh?” Catherine asks with a sigh. “Even with how far we’ve gone…”

“Cathy has a plan,” Katherine says, but she’s not looking at the Blessed; instead, she’s looking forward, at Cathy.

The woman in question was with Anna, a few feet away. She was looking down at something in her hand, discussing it quietly with the Battlereeve.

“You’re probably right,” Cathy says. “I think that makes the most sense.”

Anna nods, somber. “It’s the only explanation I have as to why this area has grown so quickly in the time you suggested.” She shakes her head. “And with what you know about the Fae here… I think you might be on your own on this one.”

Cathy nods. “It makes the most sense, yes.”

Anne walks over. “Are we ready?”

Anna nods. “This is mostly Cathy’s show, but considering what I’ve been seeing, I think I can help towards the end.” She looks over at Cathy. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Cathy stands up, taking a deep breath… then starts to summon a portal. Multiple ones, actually. To so many places that there’s some even Catherine doesn’t recognize. Anna puts on a brave face, steeling herself, just before she moves to go into one of the portals-

“HEY! THAT’S CHEATING!”

-and suddenly, there’s Fae all around them. They’re a bit mad.

Cathy stops the summoning, a bit winded. “We were trying to get an audience with your leader-” Cathy starts, but a Fae steps forward and gets right into her face.

“NO, YOU PLAY WITH US FOREVER.” The Fae hollars.

Cathy shakes her head. “We can’t. You know we can’t.”

“Yes, you can!” The Fae is clearly distressed. “We can make it so.”

“But then,” Anna says, voice soft and kind. “We wouldn’t be able to help you.”

The Fae around them pause, chat amongst themselves for a moment.

“What do you mean?” The Fae ask.

There’s suddenly thousands of them around - so many voices and magicks that the group starts to feel whoozy. Katherine, in particular, leans a bit heavily into Anna’s side. Anna frowns, keeping the girl close, as she takes steady breaths in an attempt to steady herself. Even Catherine is affected, though far less than the rest of the group.

“What you’ve been showing us… these games… why did you make them?” Cathy asks.

The Fae narrows its eyes. “You dare ask a question of us?”

“To help,” Cathy tries. “To play-”

“This is NOT the game we wanted to play!” The Fae replies. A chorus of agreement is all around them. Maggie falls to the ground, holding her head, the world spinning. Anne tries to help her, but she’s struggling as well.

Cathy pushes forward; this had gone on far enough. “Alright!” she yells. “Alright. Let’s make a deal: we beat your next game, and we are free to go.”

The Fae chatter. Elizabeth looks pale.

The Fae smirk.

“That’s fine with me!”

All of the Fae’s eyes glow. All of them fade into nothing. All of them start to disappear into the mist that was now forming.

Cathy panics for a moment; before it gets too bad, Catherine rushes forward, grabbing her goddaughter just before they can no longer see anyone.

“This… isn’t good,” Catherine mumbles, looking around warily.

“No,” Cathy replies. “This is actually close to the plan.”

Cathy looks through the ring with a grin - through the ring, she can see as clear as day. She’s quick to bring them all together again. The mist fades.

The Fae are annoyed.

“How did you?” The Fae asks, but Cathy shrugs sheepishly.

“Through a ring can you see all things,” Cathy explains. “Especially one given to me by one of your own.”

They look over at the Fae in question and then back at Cathy. Cathy is smiling softly at the Fae in question. Then she looks up.

“I request an audience with your leader,” Cathy says again.

The Fae talk loudly around each other before, suddenly, they’re all transported again, this time back to the City of Everlasting Promise.

Catherine groans as she puts a hand to her head. She can’t seem to stop herself from grabbing her sword with her non-dominant hand. Elizabeth also seems to be unable to stop herself as she fights with her own off-hand, the two quickly pulled into a duel not of their own making.

Cathy is quick to stop this with some ice magicks. Anna takes the weapons before melting the ice. Katherine binds the two with vines instead.

“Is that what they made you do?” Cathy asks quietly, respectfully. “They made you fight each other?”

More angry voices. More swirling. This time, they’re back at the castle, and suddenly Katherine and Maggie are in some sort of path. They were stumbling through the path, and certainly would have fallen to their doom, had it not been Elizabeth and Anna using magicks and wings to guide them to safety.

“They tricked you, made you fear them?” Cathy asks, once again respectfully. The others haven’t said a word, refuse to at the moment. Anything they could say, after all, could damn them. “They used mind magicks?”

The Fae once again rise up in anger, and then, with a might shriek, they caused the group to fall to their knees in pain. When Cathy looked up, however, she’d find herself back in something of an ethereal Weston, with see through buildings and villagers.

She’d see through her husband as the execution went through.

She did not expect to feel it.

She screams in pain, body writhing around as it continues. She holds onto her neck for dear life, she squeezes her eyes shut to block out the pain-

-until she feels someone put a hand to her shoulder and tense. The pain is considerably less, but still agonizing. She knows the armored leg next to her belongs to Anna, who has seemingly grabbed onto her. Then a golden armor appears next to her, and the pain lessens, and they continue more and more, with the pain getting less and less the more it is shared. Cathy can look up now, to see the others taking the pain with her, all grimacing at the unpleasantness but remaining steady.

It gives Cathy the strength to continue.

She gets up, and then, with a deep breath, she yells:

“I call for John Parr!”

It all stops as suddenly as it began, and the Fae are quiet.

After a moment, someone steps forward.

“You know my name?”

Cathy’s smiling through tears.

“I would be a terrible wife if I didn’t.”

The area calms, and the thousands of Fae around them disappear.

John frowns, a hand to his head. “What’s happened?”

“You were executed,” Cathy explains quietly, getting up. She’s not alone - Catherine is right there with her. “You were executed, but you couldn’t move on.” She holds onto her wedding ring, the one that she used before to clear the mist. “You were stuck here. And you still are.”

John frowns. “Why do I only just remember this now?”

“Because of the trauma perhaps?” Anna asks. “Because of the magicks?”

“Magicks?” He asks, and he tenses as he remembers. “Oh, my god, the magicks-”

“Where?” Cathy asks quietly, and he’s clearly shaken, but he’ll answer.

“They… they’ve done some foul things, Cathy. They’ve hurt us all. They’ve trapped us here.”

“As prisoners?” Cathy asks.

“As energy sources.”

Cathy looks over to a Fae nearby, the Fae from the mirrors.

“I remember now, too,” they say. “Guess I just needed the reminder.”

“You’re all trapped here because of some magicks that are intended to keep you here for energy?” Catherine asks, and Maria tenses a bit because of the tone. Catherine’s furious.

“Yes,” John replies. “I… we’ve been turned into something we did not know was possible.”

“Anything like this is possible,” Anne replies gravely, “if you are a Keeper of Necromancy.”

Anna frowns. “You think Jane’s done it?”

“I think she’s part of it,” Anne says. She looks over at Catherine. “You can’t call me biased in this either, you know what they can do. The bad ones.”

Catherine sighs. “I don’t think I could argue with you on that,” Catherine relents, and she shakes her head. “This needs to be undone. We need to figure this out.”

“This was the biggest game of all,” Cathy says, moving closer to John. “Figuring you out. Figuring this area out.” She wants to hold his hand, to embrace him, but she knows she can’t; it’s too risky. Embracing a Fae - regardless of how they were made - rarely has good consequences. “We need to get out of here.”

“You can’t,” John replies. “Not without leaving something here. Not without a placeholder.”

Cathy frowns. “That shouldn’t be a problem.” She holds up her wedding ring, on its chain, and lets it go - it floats in the air. “My heart is clearly here. And here it will stay.”

John frowns. “I’m sorry, Cathy.”

Cathy smiles back. “So am I.”

He takes the offer begrudgingly, taking a deep breath before the ring disintegrates into nothing. Cathy forces herself to watch, even as it feels like her heart is being ripped from her chest all over again.

“I’ll strike a bargain, one that is for me and me alone, not my comrades,” she says quietly. “We help free you all, and I get my trinket back.”

The Fae discuss it with each other for moments before they all go silent at the same time.

John steps forward.

“You are a Friend of the Fae, Catherine Parr,” John says quietly. “And we will accept your terms.”

Cathy nods. “Let us leave, and I will fulfill my end of the bargain.”

Everything starts to fade - the City, the Fae, and John. Cathy can barely hold back tears as her husband fades away, barely holding back sobs. He smiles until he’s no longer visible.

“Are they gone?” Katherine asks, looking around warily.

“Not gone,” Anna says. “Just out of view.” She looks at the Catherine’s. “We need to get going. We’re not too far from Parlemont, which means we can grab the Seroserum and sprint to the Festival.”

Catherine agrees. “Even at our fastest, we’ll only have one shot at this.”

Cathy takes a deep breath before she uses her magick to summon spectral horses. Catherine raises her eyebrows at that, but Cathy doesn’t seem to care.

“Let’s do what we can, then,” Cathy says. “Push on.”

With a nod, they ride.

Elsewhere, far, far away, the Capitol’s festival preparations were in full swing.

The town was buzzing with anticipation of the upcoming festivities - servants and villagers alike ran in the halls, putting up decorations. The courtyard was converted to fairgrounds, with people setting up tents and mead halls and sparring pits. Already many had made their home there, and for the next few months they’d likely remain. The city was completely energized and excited.

It was a shame its queen couldn’t feel the same.

Jane watched from above it all, at the top of her tower, fairly passive. This, normally, would be one of the most exciting times of the year: the King would be in incredible spirits, as would the entire world around her, so Jane would have no choice but to be happy.

This year, however, was anything but a joyous occasion: her work was far from done, and would likely get more complicated and dangerous from here. The defenses - which she usually had no part in - were now her sole objective of the festival preparations thanks to her newly-minted Keeper status.

The people she worked with didn’t seem to question why the queen that once was in charge of the food and drink of the festival was now the head of security; they didn’t ask what had changed since her disappearance. Not that she’d be able to say why, after all; her being a Keeper was a closely guarded secret. Still, despite the secrecy and the like, people did start to look at her differently, even if they had no clue what was really going on.

Her dress, for example, was no longer what it was. Her signature black and white long sleeved dress with a cloak on the back was now replaced by a light coat and pants situation, with the seal of the Realm right over her heart. Her staff was no longer the long elegant one she was known for, but instead one of hard angles and a green crystal that seemed to faintly glow occasionally. It was a massive change, though that change was met with sympathy, with the people thinking it was through her trauma that she had changed.

Which, technically, they’d be right, but also so very wrong.

“Mum?”

She was brought out of her thoughts by a young man with a bright smile and something behind his back. Jane smiled back at him, brightening up at the sight of him.

“Hello, Edward,” Jane says fondly, softly. “How are you?”

“I’m well, but, uhm,” he says, bouncing up and down excitedly. “I’m… here!”

He whipped his hands around from behind his back and showed off what he made - a wooden star, painted black and white, with Jane’s name on it.

“Just like how we used to!” He says. “But this time, this star is for you!”

Jane swelled with pride as she took the star, smiling at him and hugging him tightly. “I love it, Eddie. Thank you.”

He nodded, his smile faltering after a moment, as he nuzzled into his mom’s shoulder as they continued the embrace. “I’m… not entirely sure what happened before.” Jane tenses as she remembers the situation. “But I think you saved me from something, didn’t you?” He releases and looks back at her. “I think something terrible’s happened, hasn’t it?”

Jane sighs. “You know it’s bad of you to say those things so loudly, don’t you?”

Edward shrugs. “Elizabeth said I shouldn’t worry that much. That he needs an heir.”

Jane chuckles. “She’s bright for her age, but that doesn’t mean he can’t hurt you.”

“I know,” he admits. “Because he can hurt you instead, and that’d hurt me.”

She pauses at that, looking down at her boy, before she nods.

He looks up at the stars then, and smiles.

“At least we’ve the stars to keep us company.”

Jane tilted her head curiously as she watched the stars move above them, a small smile slowly appearing on her face. Eddie’s laughter rang through her ears soothingly, like a song she never wanted to stop hearing.

“We should make a wish!” Eddie says with a small smile. “You always said a meteorshower like this means that the gods are listening closer than ever, so we should make a wish! One that we can think of so loudly, they’ll have to listen.” He closes his eyes, head still tilted towards the sky. “I know exactly what I’m going to wish for.”

Jane chuckles and nods, going to close her eyes before, suddenly, her gemstone on her staff starts to angrily pulse. She stiffens; it means she’s being called.

It stops as soon as Eddie opens his eyes, though, and he smiles.

“I hope it comes true. For both of us!” He nods, backing up. “I gotta go now, though; I promised Joan I’d help with the decorating.”

Jane nods, a bit relieved that Joan’s keeping Edward focused on other things while Jane continued with her grim task. She’s been a lifesaver, that Joan.

“Go on, and give her my best,” Jane says. Eddie nods, sprinting off with a final wave, down the tower and into the courtyard. Jane can see him as he meets up with Joan. He starts off and Joan looks up, directly at Jane. They share a moment before Joan nods courteously, then follows the boy.

Jane’s smile fades the farther her son gets from her.

She goes to the middle of the room, to a seal. It wasn’t there until recently. She presses down on it, and suddenly she’s transported to a room with no doors. It looks like a cellar of some sort, but Jane understands that this is no cellar; it might not even be in the world.

She takes a deep breath and moves towards the gentle pulsing orb that is in the center of the room. It’s actually quite soothing… or it would be, if it wasn’t the personification of the God of Death.

“Can… you hear me?” she asks.

The glowing orb pulses.

“I’ll, uh… I’ll take that as a yes,” Jane says quietly. She watches the orb for a moment - the movements are rhythmic. It’d be calming if it wasn’t a literal beacon of death.

“I’ve done some more research into you,” Jane says, head tilted down as she continues. Her tone is respectful. “And how you operate. And how… Keepers of Necromancy are.”

The pulsing continues, so she does as well.

“It’s a really interesting history, if I’m being honest. The ways that Keepers of Necromancy are rarely by choice, but by traditions or some sort of Pact.” She lowers her gaze. “Of Pacts that held treaties in some of the Forgotten Kingdoms.”

The orb glows brighter, pulsing suddenly before tendrils of green energy extend from it, dropping to the ground. The tendrils of light form into people. They’re completely green - still made of the energy of course - but their eyes are glowing.

Jane frowns. “Are these… other Keepers?”

She walks to each of them. One holds out their hand, still emotionless. Jane tilts her head curiously before taking it.

She gasps, head thrown back as her own eyes glow green. She’s pulled into a vision, looking through the eyes of the person whose hand she touched as if it was her own eyes:

“Callum,” the woman next to them, hand in theirs. “I know this isn’t what you had hoped. I understand that this wasn’t in the plan. But you must understand - this is for the good of us all.” She smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eye. “I know you will do this with grace. I know you won’t disrespect us. I just know it.” She starts to tear up. “As much as I did not want this for you.”

And with that, Jane is released.

She stumbles backwards, hand to her head as her eyes fade with the green energy. She gasps for air as she watches the person she had just moved to dissipate into nothing.

“That…” she takes a deep breath before composing herself. “That makes sense.” she looks back at the orb as the rest of the figures disappear from view. She steps forward. “I thank you for telling me more about my current… predicament.”

She’s being far more formal than usual because this was, after all, a god she was talking to. A god that now held her soul.

For now.

“I came to ask for a blessing, of sorts,” she continues. “Though I’m unsure if you grant them to your Keepers, I hope that you can honor your servant’s request.”

The orb does nothing.

Jane looks down at the ground, averting her gaze, taking a deep breath before she looks back up at the orb, intensely.

“I’d like to make a Pact of my own.”

A hum fills the room and Jane smiles at it.

#six the musical #six the musical fanfic #six the musical fanfiction #six fanfic #six fanfiction #sixfic #legend of the six #lots #six fic

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spookyceph · 4 years

Text

Rating: Teen and up

Crossposted on Ao3

Day 1 | Prompt: Fantasy

A Small Price to Pay

Appearing unremarkable was an underrated skill. So many people wasted their lives scrambling to be noticed. They traded away their dignity and sense for scraps of fame or fortune as if it would change their fate. Nobles, beggars, warlords, courtesans, criminals, heroes—they all wound up feeding the worms in the end. Tomura would know. He’d sent more than one of each category to their graves with a dagger slipped through the ribs.

The man who’d just strolled through the open tavern door, however, couldn’t have avoided attention even if he’d been making an effort. He wore all black, for one thing. The only variety came from the iron studs glittering across the shoulders and on the half-sleeves of his long leather coat. Even his disheveled hair had been dyed—that shade of coal couldn’t be natural. Like most not in Tomura’s line of work, he probably believed black was the ideal color for stealth. In truth, an entire outfit declared, Look! I’m up to no good and I think I’m being sneaky about it! Clothing in a drab, washed-out brown, like the threadbare cloak Tomura had draped around his shoulders, actually worked best. With wisps of his white hair sticking out from the hood, he’d easily be taken for an old drunk nodding off over his drink. No one of note. Certainly not the heir to the most feared assassins’ guild in the empire.

The stranger approached the bar. His step hesitated for a split second when faced with the rippling construct of shadow—a guild contact by the name of Kurogiri—who was tending it. Tomura channeled his energy into a bouncing leg as the pair conversed. After a minute or two, Kurogiri fetched a wooden cup and filled it with the tavern’s finest for the man in black, who must have given all the correct pass phrases because he turned and looked directly at Tomura’s corner.

His flashy clothing was nothing compared to his skin.

Initially, Tomura thought he was staring at raw, purple muscle stretched over the stranger’s forearms, neck, and lower half of his face. Not flayed, he realized several stunned seconds later. Burned. Some disaster or curse had charred his skin in impossibly symmetrical patches. Even more striking were the neat rows of slim silver rings running along the seams, binding living and ruined flesh. They flaunted what might have been a disfigurement as decoration instead. To anyone with a taste for the macabre, the effect came across as artistic. Even beautiful.

Tomura hated him instantly. Still, he regulated his breathing and didn’t allow his hands to lift from the table to scratch his neck while the ostentatious bastard meandered his way to the table to join him. Master All For One had entrusted him with assembling the team that would eventually topple the empire. If he meant to take over the guild one day—meant to rid the world of hypocrites and bootlickers like Yagi Toshinori, the Emperor’s Champion—he would need to deal with people he didn’t care for. Nothing would get done if he just shut himself in his room and played out ancient battles with maps and models forever.

The man in black stopped at the chair to Tomura’s left, resting long, slender fingers on its back. The blue of his eyes shone as bright as the center of the flame in the tin oil lamp sitting on the table.

“Evening. Mind if I join you?” His voice shared none of the swagger of his appearance. Low and soft, Tomura had to strain to hear it.

“If I did,” he snapped, patience frayed along the edges, “you’d be on the floor already, choking on your own blood.”

This warm welcome only made the man smile, silver rings pulling at scar tissue. He sat and made the mistake of actually drinking the ale.

Now here was something to cheer him up. A nasty grin stretched Tomura’s own scar, slashed straight down the side of his cracked lips. “How is it?”

The stranger tilted his head, peering into his cup as if he’d caught something swimming in it. “I think the only thing more likely to kill me is the water.” Regardless, he took another swig.

Bah. No fun after all. Mouth sagging into a grimace, Tomura pushed his own cup away just a bit more. “So. You’re the flame mage looking to tag along on the job.”

“Afraid so. Call me Dabi. And you’re the dreaded Shigaraki Tomura, protégé of the most feared criminal overlord in the empire.”

“The same. What makes you think you’d be any use to me, Lord Call-Me-Dabi? Looking at you, I’d say your spells blow up in your face more often than they hit your enemies.”

To his credit and Tomura’s further exasperation, the mage didn’t lunge at the bait. “If only it were that simple. My scars,” he lifted his rough, pitted arms, turning them over and back for display, “are the result of my father making a deal with a demon.”

Tomura had to catch himself before he looked Dabi directly in the face and revealed too much of his own. “Your father did what?”

That earned a wagging finger. “I’ll tell you the story…but only in exchange for answering a question about your own past.”

Unease played with the hair along the back of Tomura’s neck. “Let’s hear this question first.”

“Fair enough. I want to know whether it’s true you’re cursed to destroy anything you touch.”

Muscles knotting down his spine, Tomura stiffened. How did this flashy asshole know more about his past than Sensei’s own network of informants had been able to dig up on him? Was he lying about the demon story just to get Tomura to talk? For what purpose? He couldn’t determine an advantage for doing so. But…since he already knew about the curse there didn’t seem to be any use in hiding it. Anyway, maybe his reaction would reveal further clues.

Reaching out with his left hand and keeping his right on one of the daggers sheathed against his ribcage, Tomura touched Dabi’s cup with all five fingers. A series of soft crackles filled the silence as the wood split apart first along the grain, then into individual fibers before disintegrating into a powdery ash that plopped to the table as a pile of mush when combined with the ale. The mage’s eyes became as round and shiny as marbles.

“Fascinating.” He lifted one of his own half-scarred hands. Instead of curiously poking the mound of pulp, though, Dabi went for Tomura’s wrist. His fingers brushed skin, warmer than the sunlight it rarely encountered, before Tomura recoiled.

“Are you insane?”

“Depends who you ask.”

Two fingers carefully folded against his palms, Tomura tucked his hands under his elbows and shoved away suddenly intrusive thoughts of what the mage’s touch might feel like on other parts of him. “How did you hear I’m cursed?”

Dabi chuckled, low and deep and quiet like his voice. The sound sent a little thrill racing out from Tomura’s belly to the crown of his head before plummeting straight down to the tips of his toes, which curled in his boots. Bastard. He had to be using some sort of enchantment to enhance his voice. Had to. “So many questions. Information is too valuable to just give away, though. You of all people should know that.”

Tomura’s jaw clenched hard enough to make his teeth squeak. “What do you want?”

“Nothing much—the answer ties in with your initial question, actually. A kiss should cover it.”

The remaining cup of ale tipped over and splashed its contents across the table as Tomura sprang up, jostling the edge.

“You want what?” He could sense the eyes of the handful of other patrons in the tavern locked on him from the outburst. Kurogiri, surely, must have been staring at him like he’d lost his mind. But Tomura couldn’t stop gawking at Dabi, who, despite an amused quirk of the brows, didn’t appear to be joking.

“A kiss in exchange for information,” the mage said. “To be collected in private, at your earliest convenience, of course. A more than agreeable price, if you ask me.”

For the first time in his life, Tomura was left speechless. “Wha…but…you…”

“’Why a kiss’, you ask?”

“Yes.”

Dabi’s shoulders bobbed in a shrug. “There’s already plenty of gold to be had for accepting this job from the guild. Ten tablets of gold upon completion, wasn’t it? A story about kissing a deadly assassin and living to tell the tale, though? Much harder to come by. Anyway, it seems fitting. I tell you something interesting about my past and you give me a new tidbit to share in the future.”

“You’re out of your mind.”

“I thought we already touched on that subject.” Leathery forearms folded on the table, the mage craned forward. “So? How about it?”

Realizing how far his common sense had flown from him, Tomura yanked his hood closer around his face and plopped back into his seat. He began snagging his thoughts out of the cyclone of emotion that had swept them up. From a purely practical view, Dabi lost in this bargain. Even if everything he said turned out to be a pile of unicorn shit, Tomura could still learn something from the telling itself. There had to be a hidden angle to this farce. A ploy to see his face fully and sell a description to the authorities? Hardly the easiest, most efficient way to go about it. An attempt to get Tomura alone and off guard to exact revenge? Plausible. He’d killed dozens of people, including two mages, in his career. There was no reason one of them couldn’t have been a friend or relative of Dabi’s. Giving the mage what he wanted, keeping him close, was an ironclad way to find out. A bit of pride was a small price to pay to destroy an enemy with their own trap.

And if paranoia had made something out of nothing…he could always kill Dabi anyway rather than live it down.

Tomura sniffed. “Fine. I agree to your insane terms. Now answer my questions.”

A sliver of white, straight teeth glimmered in the mage’s smile. Tomura had to rein in his imagination before it ran away with picturing them leaving bite marks all over his neck. “The reasons this story happened at all are rather prosaic, I’m afraid. My father was a powerful flame mage who wanted to be above all other warriors. Wanted to be the Emperor’s Champion, in fact. He fought in tournaments and dueled noble-funded contenders, beating every opponent, rising quickly through the lists despite being only twenty-five. Then he faced the man who would become his life-long rival. No matter how many times my father challenged him, he could never best him. So, not getting any younger, he changed tactics and decided to have a perfect child capable of beating this better man.”

Turning just enough to peek at Dabi past his hood and messy hair, Tomura snorted. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Told you the motivations were uninspired.”

“Don’t tell me he summoned a demon woman to bear him this perfect child.”

“The circumstances of my birth aren’t half so interesting, sadly.” Lacing his hands behind his head, Dabi leaned back in his chair until it was balancing only on two legs. “No, my father scoured noble families for any daughters with promising magical talent. Eventually, he wound up marrying an unlucky woman from a line of ice mages and she had me not long after. I inherited my father’s power over fire, but apparently not to the god-like levels he’d been hoping for. When ten years of trying to beat greatness into me didn’t produce results, he turned to alternative methods.

“I’ll spare you the gory details, but the old bastard summoned a demon with the authority to make the type of deal he wanted. He offered it my soul in exchange for augmenting my power. And now…”

With a flourish of one hand, flames the same brilliant blue of his eyes rippled up from Dabi’s fingertips. Heat slapped Tomura in the face even from that distance, sucking the breath straight from his lungs. Another flick of the wrist and the mage clenched his hand, snuffing the fiery ribbons.

“My flames burn hot enough to melt steel—hotter than any mortal can cast. Therein laid the problem and the demon’s trick. My new powers were too intense for a fourteen-year-old boy to withstand, let alone control. The attempt broke me, leaving me severely burned over most of my body and on the verge of death. In his infinite wisdom and mercy, my father declared me a failure. He sent me away to a monastery to ‘recover’. Really, he figured my injuries would finish me off and the demon would have its prize early. Fortunately, I’m more resilient than he gave me credit for.”

Despite Dabi’s casual, even flippant tone and posture, something in his eyes told Tomura that maybe this story—the core of it anyway—wasn’t a complete fabrication. Something within the burning-blue irises too cold and hard for even them to melt. “Not only did I pull through, I learned ways to protect myself somewhat from my own magic thanks to the monks and their connections to various rare book sellers and libraries. By the time my father sent someone—perhaps one of yours even—to finish what my injuries hadn’t, I was ready. I spent about another five years after that in hiding, accumulating knowledge and skill. Skills like breaking wards, or getting minor spirits to collect tidbits of information, such as a curse placed on an infamous assassin, say. When I finally had the strength, I summoned the demon who’d traded with my father and renegotiated the terms of the deal.

“See, promising somebody else’s soul, especially a child’s, is tricky when you don’t just outright sacrifice them. Comes with all sorts of cosmic snags. Rather than risk winding up empty-handed, the demon was willing to heal me as much as it was able and accept my father’s soul instead for services rendered. The next week, I delivered.”

Slowly, Dabi let his chair rock forward back onto all four legs. At the same instant, the scales in Tomura’s mind tipped as well.

“Fine. You’re on the job. Ten tablets of gold before, as you already heard. Thirty after. You cooperate with everyone else on the team, no exceptions, no complaints. Agreed?”

Dabi bowed as much as the table would allow. “I’m at your service.”

“Hmph. We’ll see if it’s worth anything soon enough. Are you familiar with the old entertainment district on the west side of the city?”

“I’ve kept an appointment or two over that way.”

“Do you know the fountain?”

The mage tapped his scarred chin. “Dried up, statue of a fox woman, lots of crude writing all over it?”

“That’s the one. Be there at sunset two days from now. Be on time or don’t bother to show up at all. I’ll take you to meet the rest of the rabble helping with this venture.”

“Perfect. And about that remaining payment—”

Tomura stood from his chair abruptly. “You’ll get it when I say so. Don’t push me or you’ll wind up with a blade through your windpipe instead.”

“I look forward to it.” Smiling, Dabi offered his hand across the table. “Working with you, that is. Not the slashed throat so much.”

He didn’t even glance down at the gesture of goodwill. “We’re complete opposites then.”

That parting barb still wasn’t enough to stifle the soft laugh that followed Tomura as he strode away, pretending not to notice the strange fluttering in his middle.

#shigadabiweek2020 #shigadabi #shigadabi fic #shigadabi fanfic #dabi x shigaraki #shigaraki x dabi #shigaraki tomura #dabi #fantasy au

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ericsonclan · 3 years

Text

Practically Brothers

Summary: Marlon and Louis spend some time helping each other out before having a joke off later that night.

Word Count: 2602

Read on AO3:

“Careful, Lou! Don’t move so much!” Marlon warned as a bit of the vegetable oil spilled onto his pants leg.

“Shit, sorry!” Louis flashed an apologetic grin over at his best friend. “I just got excited I guess. We haven’t done a hairdo day in forever.”

Marlon smiled warmly at Louis’ words. It had been a while since they had done this. For the last couple years Louis and Marlon would get together in Louis’ room and surround themselves in the secret stash of pillows that Louis had (although everyone at Ericson knew about it so his stash wasn’t very secretive at all).

Once they got hidden away in the stash of pillows on his bed they would begin the process of helping each other with their hair. Life had been so hectic lately though that neither of them had had the time or energy for this special time together. With struggling to get enough food for everyone, making sure that the school was safe and dealing with more deadheads than they can count, everyone at the school was exhausted.

Marlon dipped his finger into the vegetable oil once more and began to moisturize Louis’ dreadlocks. Louis sat there quietly for a few moments before he began to whistle. Marlon bopped his head around here and there to the tune. The two of them enjoyed the peaceful moment as Marlon continued to work on Louis’ dreads. After a few seconds Louis stopped humming and his eyes wandered over to the small amount of vegetable oil that stood in an old soda bottle.

“I hope Omar never finds out how much of his vegetable oil we’ve stolen,” Louis’ words made Marlon pause for a moment before resuming. Louis didn’t have to look at his best friend’s face to know that he was smiling.

“Yeah, this will be a secret that we take to the grave,” Marlon held out his hand that wasn’t coated in the oil and Louis shook it firmly.

“We shook on it so now we gotta keep it a secret,” Louis smiled as he sat still.

“I was going to keep it a secret either way. Omar is scary when it comes to food,” Marlon’s words made Louis laugh softly.

“Isn’t that the truth,” Louis looked outside the window and noticed that some of the leaves were beginning to fall. Soon this season would be over and the cold harshness of winter would be upon them. Louis wondered how much stress would weigh on Marlon’s shoulders throughout that season. Marlon never seemed to take on more than he could bear. At least that was the impression that Louis had gotten over the years. Louis snuck a glance back at his friend. He was really thankful to have Marlon as a leader. He won hands down over all the shitty adults that had left them the moment the world went to hell.

“All done,” Marlon spoke up and wiped off the oil on his hands before he took off his letterman jacket. The blond tossed it beside him on his right and shifted his weight. Louis scooted over on his knees and grabbed the knife.

“Alright, dude, stay extremely still or I might accidentally shave off part of your mullet.” Louis smirked.

Marlon frowned over at his friend for a moment before a subtle smirk appeared on his lips. “That would be way too high a price to pay.”

“It would be a travesty,” Louis began to shave the right side of Marlon’s head where some new hair was growing in. He only needed to shave a small portion of it. “Have no fear, I won’t harm this majestic mane,” Louis grinned and continued his task. Once the right side was done he picked up his friend’s jacket and shook the loose hairs off onto the floor before tossing the jacket over on Marlon’s other side. Shuffling over, Louis began the process once again on the left side. The room was quiet except for some quips from Louis here and there. After a few minutes he was done. Louis scooted back and nodded proudly. “Yep, you are still rocking that eighties look!”

“Someone has to,” Marlon smiled and worked to get his jacket back on. He glanced out the window and saw the slant of the sun. “Shit, I need to go talk to Brody about the fishing shack. Could you find Aasim and go over the traps again? It will be easier if you’re there seeing as you’re the one who made them and all,”

“I’ll see if I can. My piano may be calling to me,” Louis got off of his bed and stretched.

“Louis, please. For me,”

Marlon’s tone made Louis pause before nodding. “Okay, I will be with Mr. Stick in the Mud in two shakes of a lamb’s tail!”

Marlon chuckled at Louis’ words then waved goodbye. Soon both of them were off to their respective tasks.

The day went by fairly smoothly. Marlon had been able to figure out a solution with Brody regarding the efficiency of the current fishing spot while Louis had fixed the traps. All it had cost was a headache that Aasim claimed he had gotten from Louis’ talking. Louis insisted this was a false accusation and that Aasim simply didn’t drink enough water that day.

Evening was quickly upon them. After Ruby and Sophie had worked to prep the ingredients with Omar for dinner and once the perfectionist chef himself signed off on the meal, dinner was served. Louis immediately took a spot next to Marlon who was sitting at a table with Ruby, Brody and Rosie. The pitbull casually sat beside Marlon who snuck little treats to her here and there when Ruby wasn’t looking.

The four of them ate the food happily, enjoying the warm, comforting stew that they had eaten for years and would continue to until the walkers got them or - as Sophie had proudly declared - old age did. She always believed that all of them could live until they were old and withered. Dinner continued to be peaceful as people at the different tables chatted and conversed until Marlon let out a huge burp.

“Good Lord,” Ruby waved a hand in front of her face and frowned at Marlon.

“Sorry,” Marlon smiled sheepishly and began to sip his stew when Louis spoke up.

“Yeah, you should be. This is a real burp!” Louis belched loudly, causing Marlon to nearly choke on his stew. The pair laughed loudly while Ruby got up and stormed off with a huff.

“Honestly, you two,” Brody got up and jogged after Ruby. The pair talked quietly for a minute before Brody offered that they could have some tea which brightened up Ruby’s mood immensely.

“Alright, Marlon, it's a joke-off time,” Louis grinned and saw the sparkle of joy in Marlon’s eyes.

“Okay, but you better get ready to lose. You’re the one that's going to get stuck with dish duty,” Marlon smirked over at Louis.

“That’s funny because I could’ve sworn I saw your name on the list for dish duty.” Louis returned the look back at his best friend.

Soon Mitch and Aasim moved to a table nearby Marlon and Louis’ table along with Willy who jumped down onto the spot next to Mitch. All of them were interested in seeing this joke-off. It had become a fairly regular routine with this pair. Marlon and Louis would throw back jokes back and forth and whoever ran out of jokes first or felt that the other one had done better would lose. The loser would then be stuck with an annoying chore.

Louis cleared his throat and decided to start the joke off. “I saw you picking flowers the other day for a girl,” Louis leaned forward and looked at his friend. “I bet Rosie liked them.”

Marlon smiled at that joke before adding in his own. “Hey Lou, the spiders called. They want their baby back,” Marlon smirked when he saw that Louis had understood he was referring to his hair.

“Oh ho ho, well played,” Louis grinned. No one else seemed impressed by these jokes. They were usually bad, corny or downright dumb jokes about Marlon or Louis. Occasionally Rosie or one of the other kids got thrown into the jokes but that was less frequent. Louis pondered his next joke for a while before delivering it with a smirk. “Marlon is so white that sunscreen puts him on,”

Marlon chuckled at that which made Louis laugh as well. “Oh yeah? Well, Louis, I hate to break it to you but the tooth fairy doesn’t take teeth that are lost on account of being a dumbass,”

Louis’ eyes widened at those words and he held his heart in mock sadness. Marlon began to laugh some more at that which in turn made Louis’ laughter grow. “Hey, Marlon, y’know why Rosie has a mattress in the headmaster’s office? It's because you smell so bad even she won’t sleep next to you,”

Marlon felt the zing of that one and immediately had a comeback. “Well the only reason your piano doesn't run away from your stank is because its legs don’t work!”

Louis paused at Marlon’s words, impressed by the reply. The pair was quiet for a second before they burst out laughing. The two of them continued to shoot jokes and zingers back and forth until Marlon held up his hands.

“Alright, alright, I’ll forfeit this round but you’d better watch out for next time,” He smiled competitively at his best friend. Louis returned the look and leaned his elbows on the table.

“We’ll see about that. After all, both of us are-”

“Idiots,” Violet butted into the conversation as she walked by with the twins and Tenn.

“Actually it's pronounced geniuses. We are joke masters.” Louis smiled at the blonde who rolled her eyes as Marlon and Louis high fived.

“Well, you’ll face the daunting task of being under the watchful eye of Omar as you clean dishes tomorrow,” Louis stood up from his spot.

“Oh boy, I can't wait,” Marlon quipped and rose as well.

“You still have one more night of freedom. So how about you join me in the music room?” Louis offered and Marlon nodded warmly.

“Sounds good to me, Lou. I just need to grab something from the headmaster’s office.” Marlon began to walk alongside Louis.

“Alright, then I shall see you soon. If you get lost, just follow the sound of my mesmerizing music,” Louis pulled on the sides of his coat as he strolled forward.

“Will do, but I think Rosie and I will be able to navigate the winding halls of the admin building just fine,” Marlon waved a quick goodbye to Louis before jogging up the stairs. Rosie followed close behind.

Minutes later Marlon had entered the office. He strolled forward and reached out for the map that lay on the table. His eyes wandered over it for a second before he felt Rosie pawing at his leg. “Sorry, girl,” Marlon gave the pitbull some loving pats and headscratches. “We can go hang out with Louis now,” Marlon tucked away the map in his pocket and grabbed the red pencil.

Rosie led the way down the stairs and happily trotted towards the music room where Louis had begun to play his music. Based on the strained notes and the slightly off-centered music, Marlon guessed that the piano was due for a tuning. Louis turned when he heard the door creak open thanks to Rosie’s paws whacking against it.

“Seems you were able to find the music room after all,” Louis smiled playfully at his friend who returned the smile.

“Yeah, it was a good thing I had Rosie with me.” Marlon sat down on one of the chairs and a pile of dust shot up and swarmed his face. He coughed loudly and Louis stopped his playing for a moment.

“You okay? Getting choked up because you lost the joke off?”

Louis’s words made Marlon look over with a competitive expression. “Ha, you wish,” Marlon coughed loudly for another moment before he took a deep breath.

Louis studied his best friend for a moment to make sure he was really okay before he began to play the piano again. His fingers danced around on the keys, creating a beautiful, playful melody that was only partially lost due to the untuned piano.

Marlon listened and smiled softly as he looked at the map. His mind quickly wandered back onto the safety of the school. He wondered if it was wise to start enforcing a tighter safe zone. After a few minutes Marlon decided against it. He wouldn’t make any major changes, at least not tonight. He doubted he’d be able to properly assess such a weighty decision at the end of the day when his energy was low. So instead he enjoyed his friend’s music.

After a little while Louis stopped his playing. “Y’know, maybe you should learn to play the piano,”

Louis’ words made Marlon glance up. “Yeah, well I bet I’d sound pretty shitty compared to you,”

“That's what practice is for. Surprising as it may be, I wasn’t always a piano master. Shocking, I know,”

Louis’ words made Marlon crack a smile. “I think I’ll stick to the guitar, thanks.”

“Well, I’m sure the day you track one down will come soon. With all the wild stuff we’ve found on some of these deadheads, I wouldn’t be surprised if we found one with a guitar,” Louis spun around on his piano bench to look at Marlon.

“That would be the dream. I miss playing guitar,” Marlon tilted his head back with a tired smile. “Well, it's getting late so I should head to bed.”

“Alright,” Louis rose up from his spot to sneak in some final pets for Rosie. He knelt down and whispered conspiratorially to the pitbull. “Make sure he actually gets some sleep, Rosie.”

“Hey, I can hear you,” Marlon looked down at his friends as he placed his hands on his hips.

“Damn, looks like we got caught, Rosie,” Louis’ gaze focused on the pitbull who was panting happily. “Alright, but seriously dude. Don’t push yourself,” Louis’ eyes locked with Marlon’s.

“I won’t,” Marlon smiled reassuringly and was relieved to see that his friend relaxed at those words before standing back up. Marlon continued to look at Louis for a moment before he walked forward and gave him a hug. Louis immediately returned it. The two of them held onto that hug for a moment before Marlon let go. He gave a final smile and wave, wishing Louis goodnight before heading off towards the headmaster’s office.

Marlon slowly walked down the hall, his eyes glancing around at all the graffiti that covered the walls as he walked up the stairs. Today had been a good day. He had been able to give his mind a few moments to get away from all the stress that being the leader brought, but now it was time to focus again.

Marlon glanced back at the music room as the sound of the piano filled the halls once more. He was really glad to have a friend like Louis. No, friend wasn’t the right word. Brother felt more fitting. Even though the world had gone to shit and life could be hell he knew he would always have Louis on his side. With that comforting thought putting Marlon’s heart at ease, he began to climb the stairs again, ready to continue his role as protector of the school.

#twdg #twdg louis #twdg marlon #twdg rosie #marlon rosie brotp #louis marlon brotp #fanfic

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aerondudley · 4 years

Text

James Villiers || 33 || Earl of Jersey || FC: Aidan Turner

Biography:

James was raised by his family to always be obedient, expected to play the dutiful son and grow to be the respectable man who would one day inherit the Earldom of Jersey from his father. When his parents told him that he was to be wed, it was not something he questioned since he had been raised from birth to know that his duty was to marry and continue the success of the Villiers family. He was married to Rebecca Wells when he was eighteen, and it was expected that the two would soon begin their own family. He met her on the day of their wedding, and she seemed the typical blushing bride he had always imagined for himself. But once the wedding was over and they were alone for the first time, her smile was immediately replaced with an ice cold stare, her lip curled in resentment against her new husband. Whereas James had always accepted that he would be married off to someone of his family’s choosing, Rebecca had relished the freedom she had as an unmarried woman and resented him for taking it away from her. He tried to be the husband he thought she wanted - attentive, caring, even romantic - but it was all for nothing. It didn’t matter what kind of person he was, she would always see him as the reason for her lack of freedom. James was not her husband, but her jailer.

James didn’t want to spend the rest of his life trapped in a resentful marriage, so he offered his wife an agreement: he would allow her whatever freedoms she desired, any indulgence she had once enjoyed before the traditional expectations of a wife were thrust upon her, on the condition that she remain discreet and they play the respectable married couple in public for the sake of reputation. Rebecca was sceptical of this arrangement at first, but agreed and slowly began testing the waters. Realising early on that James had meant it when he said he would give her no shame or judgement for her indulgences, she began to partake in more of them. True to her word, she played her part as the obedient wife in public as well as she had on their wedding day and eventually she began to warm to her husband. Whereas before they had lived almost completely separate lives, now she would come home and talk to James about her day. As they spent more time together, the pair developed a bond and Rebecca encouraged James to indulge in his own freedoms as well. She pointed out that he was still playing the part of a respectful and dutiful husband to a wife who was not there and she had no issue with him doing as he pleased.

Slowly, James allowed Rebecca to introduce him to the fun she had been out having. He had been raised a perfect gentleman and now he was out drinking, gambling and engaging in multiple affairs while his own wife cheered him on. Time passed, and James and Rebecca’s bond only deepened. They loved each other, but only in the way that best friends do - neither saw the other one in a romantic light, but as someone who had brought the other out of the darkness and allowed them to be their true selves. Unfortunately, as time went on, the two of them became so caught up in their hedonistic lifestyle that they forgot their one rule: discretion. Their lack of care meant that their various exploits were being whispered all over town - The Countess of Jersey spotted gambling away her husband’s fortune in a den of ill repute, the Earl seen with a woman perched on his lap who was not his wife, pouring him cup after cup of ale. It wasn’t long before word of these indiscretions got back to their families. They ordered a stop to their debauchery and demanded that the two of them do what was expected of them in their marriage and produce heirs. Although it was their families who had once again brought up the subject of children, the idea did not seem entirely preposterous to the pair. Rebecca had always wanted to be a mother, but she had put that dream aside. She hadn’t expected her husband to become her best friend, and who better to raise a child with? Their love might not have been romantic, but the platonic love between them was stronger than most married couples. Sadly, it was not meant to be.

They spent years trying, but after three miscarriages, they just weren’t able to cope with the heartbreak anymore. They decided to stand up to their families and told them that they were not willing to continue this suffering. They would remain married and do their best to be upstanding and respectable, but no heirs would come of their union. The news was taken surprisingly well, and the two of them were ready to go back to how their lives had been before the subject of children had ever been reintroduced to them. Their renewed happiness barely lasted a month before fate struck the next cruel blow and Rebecca’s life was snatched away. She had not been feeling well in the week before her death, but they had both considered it to be a short and temporary illness. James had not expected to see his wife deteriorate so quickly and to be at her deathbed only a short time later. He was told that these things happen, that even the strongest can be felled by illness but still he could not make sense of it. She had been so full of life, how could it have been ripped away so quickly? As he made the preparations for his wife’s funeral, James began to notice a few unusual occurrences.. Their new kitchen maid, who had only been in her position a few months abruptly handed in her notice, giving up what was surely a most prosperous position for any girl of her station; whispered conversations that stopped suddenly when he entered the room; what seemed to be a small and specific part of their gardens destroyed. When the time came for Rebecca’s funeral, the final straw was as he stood by his late wife’s grave as her coffin was lowered into the ground, and he overheard his mother discussing options for his second marriage.

James refused to see his mother after that. She tried to visit, tried to reason with him, but James was falling down a dark hole where no one could not catch or follow him. His late wife had introduced him to the wonderful distraction that gambling was, and he used it well. It was an easy way to help him forget, to give him that rush of adrenaline and joy that he craved in these dark times. But even a talented gambler cannot win forever, and James realised that his funds were dwindling fast. If he did not take care, then he could lose his entire fortune. The money did not mean as much to him as it once had, but there were still people who depended on him for their livelihood and he knew it would be wrong to punish them for his vices. He resolved to settle his debts and focus on building the fortune back up. An industrious man, James did have some success in recouping some of his losses, but such things take time and he knew that if he was to recover before anyone noticed, he would need the assistance of another person’s wealth. Although it disgusted him to do it, James allowed his mother back into his life and she agreed to find him a wealthy new wife while subtly going behind his back to spread the rumours that any losses in the Villiers coffers had been caused solely by Rebecca and not her son.

Different families and their eligible daughters were discussed often, until one night James attended the theatre to briefly escape his mother’s meddling. She never had enjoyed the theatre as she thought actors were painted puppets, but plays and the opera had often been an escape for him. It was that night where James watched Henrietta Fane cross the stage and she immediately caught his attention. He had briefly recognised her name in the program as the daughter of one wealthy family that his mother had discarded due to their lack of title, but James saw a spark in her that he hadn’t considered when he had been bombarded with so many names and suggestions from his mother. He found himself seeking out the shows that she was in and started to visit backstage after each performance. The two of them got along well, and he finally decided that this would be the right choice. He needed money and someone he could get along with, and Henrietta had both qualities. Bringing up the Fane family again earned him a snort of derision from his mother, but he was quick to point out that although Henrietta lacked a title, her dowry more than made up for it. Although still not entirely sold on the idea, his mother knew that they were running out of time and agreed to assist in presenting the idea to the Fanes. A wedding day was set, and although James felt nothing but resentment at himself at marrying again for money, he found himself making his marriage vows once more.

The years since then have been kind to James. With the assistance of his second wife’s money, he has been able to build up the Villiers coffers to the point where he is able to use the money to invest wisely and now their riches are double what they previously were. With the extra wealth and input of Henrietta, James has established himself as a patron of the arts, and there is not a theatre opening or art gallery that he can’t be found at. The man he is now that he has matured is a curious mix of old and new - his drinking and flirting link to the hedonistic period he indulged in with his late wife, but his patronage of the arts and wise investments hark back to the young man who was trained from birth in how to be a perfect gentleman. And yet there is even another side to him, moulded from his present circumstances - a man with a strong mind and sharp intelligence deemed fit to mentor the Prince of Wales. Stare into the Earl’s eyes for long enough and you will see every aspect of his life flash through them: from innocent boy to unleashed youth, a tragic figure struck by loss, the wit and charm of a man who knows how to get what he wants and finally the cold, hard stare of the master manipulator. He is comedy and tragedy, intelligence and idiocy, a figure of opposites scrambled together to make him who he is: James Villiers.

Relationships:

Henrietta Villiers - Wife. The two have been husband and wife for four years now and have settled into their marriage. Their relationship is friendly and supportive, and there is an attraction between them as they are known to fall into bed together when the mood is right, but James extends the same courtesy to Henrietta that he did with his first wife. He is aware of her dalliances outside of their marriage, just as she is with his, but there is no jealousy or judgement of either party. James makes a point to not discuss his late wife at all. He still holds so much grief and guilt over her death, but prefers to keep up his jovial facade which is difficult to hold in place when he talks about her.

Rebecca Villiers - First Wife; deceased. Although they were unsuited to be wed, James and Rebecca managed to make their marriage work for them over time. Allowing each other the freedom they wanted for themselves let them lead the exciting lives that they wanted. They were husband and wife in name only, as their relationship developed more into two friends who also happened to live together. She was his best friend, and as the one to bring him out of his shell, James feels as though only Rebecca has ever completely understood who he is. James still has suspicions over her untimely death and is convinced that there is more to it than just a sudden and tragic illness.

Lydia Cavendish - Current Flame. Relationship TBA

Frederick William Augustus - Mentee. Relationship TBA

Edgar Percival Spencer - Companion. Relationship TBA

Duke of Devonshire - Political Rival. Relationship TBA

#b #tw: miscarriage #tw: death #fair warning this is loooooong #and it'll only get longer because I'll end up adding to it #ls.intro

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maladaptive-ninja-returns · 5 years

Text

Devil’s No. 1 (6)

Chapter 6: The Devil Wears Nada

Loki x fem!Reader, Bucky x fem!Reader

Theme: The definitions of devils, angels, demons etc. are twisted here in this world. But some things remain the same.

Series: Will contain violence, death, destruction, softness, fluff, smut, everything that my mind can conjure, really.

Chapter warnings: None. a demon.

A/N: This was written two years ago (I think) on @phantomrose96 ‘s prompt/situation of a shy girl summoning the devil to be friends with him (and something else that he does but I’ll leave that part out for you guys to have fun with). But I- being thirsty for tragedies- twisted things a little.

Word Count: It’s 5 am. The sugar rush has receded. My eyes are paining but my heart is happy.

MASTERLIST in bio, love. Tags are open

art credit: @russian-hiddlestoner

"Where do you think you're going?"

"I uh...I'm going...with you?"

The silence lingering in your apartment was chilly at best. In between the mess that was strewn around you- both inside and out- and your life in the hands of the Devil himself, it seemed sane to go with him to find Peter.

But to Loki, who watched your arms crossing your chest, your fingers digging into the skin while your eyes looking everywhere but at him, your body wasn't really ready.

He loved taking his sweet time to see the most minute chill you felt wherever his icy gaze landed.

My oh my!

He had never seen someone be so delicately sensitive to his gaze. That too in a good way.

You, on the other hand, were trying your best not let your heart give out for there was a chance that you might see those eyes again and be trapped in them forever. Not in a good way.

"Oh, Y/N, pet," his voice came as the wind-chime in a thunderstorm, sweet and ominous simultaneously, "you are not going anywhere with me. I will be bringing the boy back while you sit here and think of how not to disappoint yourself and your new best friend."

"...okay. Sir. Loki. Listen, please. I want to go with you because I have to."

"Don't you trust me?"

Your brows wanted to reach the sky along with the silence that came out with your interrupted lungful of breath.

Is he really asking me that?

"Relax, little one. I will deliver that boy to you. He is part of the deal after all."

"Yeah, that's the thing. I know you will deliver him but I have to be there because he is my responsibility. In many ways. So...please, mi-ahem-Loki, let me go with you."

The essence of complete fear stank around you and to Loki's amusement you still wanted to ride with the devil.

"I'm not taking you with me looking like that," he spewed in your direction without so much as breaking his elegance.

You looked at yourself in mild confusion. "But...I just had a bath."

A low groan of disapproval left Loki's throat as whatever ounce of confidence that you had gathered slowly faded away right where it had originated from- in the hollow darkness around you.

"Wait here, I'll comb my hair and...put some perfume on," you muttered.

Your feet tried to find the floor on your way to the room while Loki watched your back, his suspiciously glistening greens never leaving you.

"Minnerva," he called out to the thin air.

"Yes, Sire," her grave voice came from behind his right shoulder.

"Give me Y/N's file."

He hadn't even said the f-word when Minnerva was producing her tablet forward to show him your history while you tried to find something to wear.

"And take some medication while you're at it," he raised his voice just a smidge, the honey-laden grace never leaving his throat, "I don't want you puking your guts out on me."

Loki looked down at the tablet, his expressions a complete blank turning to slight twitch of amusement in his brows before a smirk found its way on his lips.

"Well, I'll be damned," he whispered.

"You already are, sire," Minnerva quipped.

"Right, my pet? This is one quite absurdly unique human who has found me."

"How so?"

"Remember the human form of tides we talked about that we cursed creatures ride on."

"Distinctly."

"She's experiencing one. And looks like I am about to surf right in time for a raging tsunami," he smirked.

The click of the door sounded and Loki's nostrils flared at an aroma he was too familiar with.

"Mmm," he moaned, his eyes closing to let the scent linger inside his head before he had to see the dull humanity again, "Bvlgari."

You scratched an itch on your neck before nodding and giving a muted 'yes'.

"It was a gift," you cleared your throat before picking up your jacket. "Right. So...where are we going?"

Loki watched your jacket, his eyes coming to linger on your face before he sighed and looked around the space, his jaw doing a twist while his hands came to rest in his pant pockets.

"Y/N. Darling," he tried- he really did- to slowly breathe out your name, "we are not going to be scouring your dump of a city. We will be going straight to the boy."

He found the tiny grooves between your confused brows quite amusing- not to mention hilarious.

"I know."

This tiny concrete piece of confidence in your voice pinched him for some reason and one could see him lock his jaw hard right on that exquisite face before releasing it.

"Fine," he concluded, "come closer then, sweet one. Hand me a property of that boy."

Putting on your jacket you took out a piece of folded paper from inside one of your pockets before placing it in those big pale hands, subconsciously getting a touch of that cold skin.

"My my," Loki commented flatly as he unfolded the paper to look at the stick figures Peter had drawn, "putting Van Gogh to shame."

One of them quite closely resembled Elsa from Frozen.

"Could you please concentrate, and let it g-"

Your head registered Loki smiling as he watched you.

"Let it what?"

He knew!

"Nevermind."

Before you could say something more, Loki's hands were already on your hips snaking their way to your back from beneath the open jacket. All the heat that had been gathering inside you, you could feel it being siphoned off by him as he pulled you close to him- too close. You could see every little groove on his face, every mole over his neck, even those peeping from beneath the collar of that crisp black shirt. You could even smell him.

And he smelled something like a forest in snow would- cold, still, crisp, dormant, hibernating, an animal resting, a chilly breeze carrying the scent of the frozen lake and pine trees.

He was everything that death was supposed to be.

And yet was alive within with something inhuman underneath.

Is that what it was like to be the devil?

"Let's find out," his lips gently whispered close to your ears, brushing against every little hair on over your forehead "shall we?"

"Come on. We haven't got all day," Loki announced as he fixed his collar and straightened his cuff.

You, on the other hand, were on your hands and knees, trying to make sense of the blur before toppling over and coming to rest on your back.

The room spun a bit more till it finally came to a standstill.

"I'm fine," you tried to speak through panicked breaths, "I'm fine."

He was right, you thought to yourself, I should have taken something for the... travelling sickness.

While you tried to get up, Loki looked at the paper in his hand before putting it in his inner pocket.

"So much for building a snowman," he muttered to himself, looking straight ahead.

The structure around them looked like a mansion or boarding house out of time, with wooden boards and stairs broken, windows shattered or missing, wild grass growing everywhere. The doors were off their hinges while some vulgar graffiti soiled one of the walls.

"Are we-"

"In the right place."

You could only see one side of his face but this half determined, half thrilled look made you feel like he knew something you didn't. And that was one of the reasons your head wasn't the only thing thumping.

"I can smell the blood and torture here," he commented, quite pleased with himself.

The cracked portraits you passed carried a haunting impression that made you walk faster and lot closer to the devil than you wanted to.

"Pop quiz for you, Y/N," Loki chimed out of nowhere taking up a bit of dust from the frames around him, "what does an animal do when they realise they have done something their master won't like."

He breathed in the air and made what your friends would have called his orgy-face- the same thing you did when you smelled a good old book.

You knew you could not question his insanity so you did what you were told.

"Umm, dogs tend to hide in their comfort spots. Usually in a corner where they think they won't be found. Or a spot they think their parents won't find out about."

You heard a low chuckle from the figure walking in front of you.

Now that does not sound right.

"Winner winner-"

One moment you had been standing right in the hall of the remnants of the huge house while in the next you were walking two floors above into a space that looked like a dining hall minus the luxury of chairs and a banquet.

"-demon dinner," Loki growled as the wall in front of both of you exploded, taking one of you by utter surprise.

A creature in seemingly solid form with slime and scales everywhere on its body and a jaw that opened so wide to scream its existence out that you thought it was off its hinges. Eyes as black as the purest coal bore into Loki while the saliva dripped from its fangs. The incoherent screams felt like they would rip through you any moment.

But Loki stood there unbothered. In fact, he seemed quite satisfied with the unbearable pain that had started surrounding you.

And then it all made sense.

"Loki!" You tried to shout over the screeches of that beast, "stop torturing him!"

"What?" Loki turned to you blankly, and the shrieks died. "I thought you wanted an outing with your new friend."

For fuck's sake...

You turned towards the demon who kept uttering something in a language foreign to you. "Where's the boy?"

The demon looked at you for the first time, and within an instant, sprang towards you with its jaws wide open with every intent devour your bones.

And like an unspoken underlying instinct, you jumped and grabbed Loki's arm, hiding behind him.

Loki didn't move. He did not have to.

"Step within ten feet of her and the only thing you would be seeing is the hellfire I created from the souls you tortured."

His entire being stood between you and the demon, his eyes brought the blood-curdling scream to a whimper, his words reduced the beast to a crying lost cub looking for something to hide underneath.

"What are you waiting for? Answer her," he commanded without any effort, forcing the creature to look between the two of you in confusion before it pointed to the unbroken part of the wall it had exploded through, where a pile of old furniture lay.

"Peter?" Your aching larynx called out for the boy as you stepped forward and walked towards the pile, keeping yourself as far away from the demon as possible, never realising the demon was trying to do the same.

You could already see a pale hand in between the pile from three steps away, forcing a curse out of your mouth and sending you into a scare to quickly move everything away before you could finally reach him and grab his limp body out.

"Peter," you tried to speak through the breathlessness you were currently experiencing, "oh God! Peter!"

You checked for his breathing and his pulse.

"He's fine," your declared, teary-eyed, to Loki.

Why you did that, you do not know.

Picking up the unconscious boy, you carefully adjusted his head on your shoulder before hurrying back to Loki's side.

"One rule, Icarus." Loki's voice echoed through the dilapidated walls and hollow foundations.

You had no idea how he was doing it. He wasn't shouting, nor screaming. But the ice in his calm voice asserted the right amount of pressure you didn't want it to be.

"One. Rule."

Your hands wrapped themselves around Peter's waist, securing him in your hold as you took a step back from the one entity in the room radiating overwhelming gelidity.

"No children."

Icarus, the demon, grunted and muttered something under his breath, never once having the balls to look right into Loki's eyes.

"Hmm?" Loki tilted his head a bit, turning his ear less than an inch towards the demon. "What was that? What did you just spew, you worthless pile of mud-goblin?"

Icarus blinked and moved back a little. You could sense that beast had hit a wrong nerve.

Icarus said something, this time loud and clear.

Loki turned to you, his eyes swirling with tiredness.

Now that was something new.

"The audacity of this bitch," he stated before snapping his fingers.

A flat line of noise originating from somewhere far away seemed to get closer with every passing second, making Icarus wriggle in fear where he stood.

It cried in its incoherent language some more.

"Oh, I'll leave the judgement to those hungry bastards, demon," Loki concluded with a smile that never reached his eyes.

Shrieks filled the room and you could feel the pressure on your back increase five folds.

Something really worse had entered the space and it was affecting you apart from making that demon run for a corner to hide in.

With Peter's weight on your shoulders, you felt nauseous, chilling sweats running down everywhere throughout your body while your legs gave away to make you fall into something...soft.

"You might want to close your eyes, sweet one," Loki spoke softly as he brought you back on your legs, the pressure upon you receding for some reason.

You did as you were told. But not before you buried Peter's head in your chest and put one hand around his ear.

Icarus' lungs burst with the the cries that would have woken up the dead before all went silent.

"Baymax was really underrated."

You open your eyes and find yourself in a room with posters of Baymax, Inside Out, The Emperor's New Groove, and Lilo & Stitch.

On a study table by the window were figurines of Naruto, Sasuke, and Orochimaru.

You carefully laid Peter down on his bed, making sure he wasn't hurt anywhere.

"This kid could've done better," Loki commented as he tipped Sasuke's figurine and let it fall down with a clatter, grabbing all your heightened- and definitely tired- senses.

"Could you-" you nearly shouted before composing yourself and turning down into a whisper- "please shush it. There are other...humans here."

"Relax, they can't hear us," Loki groaned, tipping Orochimaru this time.

You were tucking Peter under his quilt when you felt a soft cold blow tickle your ear.

"And don't you. Shush me. Ever again."

The whisper right inside your ear coiled up all parts of you as his lips ever so lightly brushed right at the edge of you.

Your hands went by the side of the bed to look for support as you tried to get away from the devil while he smiled at the way he was playing your chords. The music he was producing seemed to please him.

"Y/N," a familiar voice called for you.

You turned to look at a conscious Peter looking at you with every bit of emotion through his eyes.

You turned to look at Loki but he was nowhere to be seen.

"I'm here, Pete," you whispered before laying a hand on his forehead. "Are you okay?"

He nodded.

"That demon-"

"Won't hurt you anymore. I promise you," you assured him, stroking his hair.

"That man with you," Peter gulped, "he saved me. He's an angel, isn't he?"

You pressed your lips- not knowing what to tell him- before planting a kiss on his head.

"You've been through too much. Get some sleep, hon. We'll talk in the morning, okay?"

Peter slumped into his pillow and closed his eyes while you softly patted him to sleep.

"Loki?" You whispered through the empty corridor of the house.

There was no sign of him whatsoever. No sounds except for the clock's ticking and the snores coming from the master bedroom.

"Loki?" You called out again.

Nada.

"Oh, Loki!" You moaned in frustration, feeling an icy chill go right through your spine.

Oh n-

"Keep calling my name like that, kitten, and we'll be best friends with some really worthy benefits."

"Wh-"

You wanted to be disgusted by it but you were already being sucked through space back to your apartment and only had enough energy to keep yourself from throwing up as you landed back right where you'd vanished from.

"They were sleeping."

Loki sighed as twisted two fingers and the shot glass filled with the Jäger you two had left behind.

"That's what humans usually do, Y/N." He sat down on the sofa in your living room and downed the shot.

"No, Loki," you sat down next to him, "they were sleeping when their son was missing!"

Lokis swallowed another shot and raised a finger.

"Adopted son."

"What?"

"Didn't you know?"

"...no."

"He has a blood relative. An aunt that lives in New York."

"...oh."

You wanted to ask him how he knew that but thought it was better to keep your mouth shut and not land yourself into something you could have easily avoided.

Plopping down into the sofa you relaxed a bit, feeling some part of you feel a little light.

"For second today, I thought his father...his adoptive father would explode at me by the way he..."

Your hand moved on its own to caress the throbbing part of your arm where he'd held you so carelessly.

Loki glanced at your arm before trying to sit back in his chair, moving around a bit, trying to find the source of his discomfort before his hands found it and took out a plushie of a cat.

He looked at the stuffed toy with pure judgement before placing it on the sofa's arm on his side and placed the bottle of liquor between the toy's limbs.

Loki took your empty shot glass and the two seconds it took for it to come to you, it was filled with Jäger.

"Relax your nerves, kitten."

The smooth herby liquid went right down your throat and the swirl came a bit later when you were already three shots down. The beauty of Jäger.

"Why did Icarus betray you?"

Loki breathed in and opened his mouth to speak.

"Oh, Icarus! Now I remember where I've heard this name. Icarus and the sun! Huh!"

Loki's brow judged you with everything it had while his lips basked in your drunken state.

"He didn't seem like the type who'd go and betray you, though. I mean he looked like a two-year-old on a sugar rush, really. Like a child angry at his parent for not getting him something he saw at the store."

"Yeah, I told him not to hunt children once before too-" Loki turned towards you and rested his head on his curled hand over the sofa headrest, looking at you, "-but that was thousands of years ago."

"Then someone else must have shown him the store."

You gulped down another shot.

"Minnerva's really cute, though," you spoke to yourself. At least that's what you thought.

"Something tells me you get quite interesting once you get drunk."

The sixth shot was swirling around in your mouth when your head turned to look at Loki and your index finger went up in a 'first-of-all'.

"I'm drinking to forget all the things you've'n saying and doing to me all night. I'm also drinking to forget the things you would be saying or doing to me later tonight. Capice? And, we still have work to do."

The glow that had come over Loki's face disappeared.

"No wonder you haven't had sex in a long while."

You gasped.

"Excuse me!" You sat up straight, turning towards him, forgetting who it was you were squaring up against, "Just because I am drunk does not mean I will hook up with anyone! Especially you!"

It was Loki's turn to be offended.

"First of all," he began, "donot for a single moment forget you are talking to the devil, you minx. I am unbelievable in bed. I can make you feel all nerves of the entire universe and its galactic charm in fifteen minutes and it will be so apocalyptic that every neuron in your body will remember that sensation; so will the elemental foundations of your soul even when you ascend into a higher dimension."

You gulped, blinked and put your leg above the other.

"And second of all, even when you should loosen up and drink, you do not stop being a professional. Even the devil has some standards, human! I look forward to foreplay and pleasure, not some sloppy drunken sex that feels like work."

You did not know what to say.

I cannot believe the devil is better than so many men I've met.

"I'm sorry," you muttered, feeling weird yet not that uncomfortable apologising to the devil.

The shot glass went back on the table.

"Business first then," he clasped his hands together. "Let's suck that life-threatening force from inside you."

You looked at him, appalled for a second.

"I-uh...I didn't....how did you know?"

Your gut was still not used to the smirk on his lips.

"I'm the devil, darling. If I cannot smell the ever so pungent darkness that dims the everbright soul then who am I, really?"

Your throat let out a hum while your head nodded.

"How long?" He asked.

"It's been three months," you responded while playing with your shot glass.

"And," you continued, the raised momentum in your voice catching Loki off guard, "I've already sold my soul to you so why not just live the last five days of my life with less pain and whatever it is that is killing me from the inside."

Loki eyed you, studying the emotions hidden in plain sight in your eyes.

"You do realise I will be inside you if you want me to untether whatever it is that is sucking the life out of you?"

You played the words that just came out of his mouth in your head and narrowed your eyes at him.

"Puns fully intended," he teased.

"Please. Don't," you pleaded. "Just do whatever you have to do to get this heaviness off me. And while you're insid-possessing me, please don't do anything I wouldn't do. I beg you."

"Oh! How lovely. That leaves me with so many choices." The sarcasm dripped in this one.

Putting your leg up on the sofa you straightened your back as much as you could.

"Okay, let's get on with it, then."

Loki chuckled.

"For someone who has studied about me, you sure seem to forget that I cannot just enter you, pet. I need you to give me your consent."

He moved the unruly strands of your hair away from your face, making your feel some shivers you had not felt in a very long time.

"You need to say yes."

"Yes?"

"And you need to seal your consent."

All you could do was blink at those smaragdines that were staring right into your soul, as cold fingers pulled up your chin.

"What do you want to say?" He asked gently.

"Yes," you exhaled with a relieving ache.

His thumb rubbed that edge of your jaw, his eyes taking off your soul's layers.

"Go ahead then," his command sounded more like the minstrel's song in the spring.

And you did go ahead, letting your lips meet his, feeling those cold supple ones with your heated throbs.

Your eyes closed as you felt yourself drawn into his icy touch, letting your lips chase his more; the urge to taste him growing with every second before you felt complete darkness and your bodies went limp over the sofa, seeming like they were in deep slumber.

The radio in your kitchen tuned on and started playing Ann Margaret's What Am I Supposed To Do; the music relatively slow and eerie to the taste of the apartment with no one but the inanimate objects and two lifeless bodies to hear it.

A few moments later the window in the living room opened, giving way to a strong gust of wind that knocked the dead bamboo plant from over the fridge, and as it went down, a magnet on the fridge door stuck to its side.

The glass bowl that the bamboo had rested in for so long shattered and the muddy, worm-infested water spilt over the kitchen floor.

The magnet, that was an angel, lay there between the water and broken glass.

Just as Ann sang her last verse, an echo reverberated through the air before sending a cosmic pulse from the centre of the radio as one powerful ripple throughout the apartment.

The song finished, the radio died and the cold silence came back again.

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skiesoftwilight · 5 years

Text

Memories Not Forgotten (Shay Cormac)

Word Count: 1652

••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The gentle breeze ruffled his daughter’s emerald dress and blew through her chestnut curls as she stood beside him. Her small hand interlocked with his. A silence filled the air, one that had felt uneasy, but peaceful at the same time. His brown-eyed gaze stared at the cracked gravestone. It was surrounded with some dead and wilting alyssums and marigolds, making the grave look dull and a beacon of death and sadness. He felt uneasy, but did not want to make it known to his daughter; he had to stay strong for the two of them.

“Father?” His brown eyes had looked down beside him and were met with the familiar, but different hazel-green eyes of his daughter.

“Yes, Eleanor?” He responded with a gentle tone, too scared to speak above a whisper, thinking that he would ruin the peacefulness in this sacred place.

“Is this the place?”

“This is.”

Silence once again. Eleanor shuffled her feet, digging the tip of her boots into the dirt. She released her light grip from her father’s hand and took a couple of steps closer to the grave. She turned back to face her father, “This is my mother’s grave?” She asked with curiosity loomed in her voice, but to him, it sounded like she was displeased with the area and its condition.

He nodded his head, without saying a word. His heart ached when he hears a word about his late wife’s resting place, it was like opening a new wound that was still healing.

“What happened to her?” She asked gently, knowing that she might strike a sensitive nerve within his heart. “Lass, you know what happened to her, I told you the story.” He did indeed tell her the story, but it was not the truth. He did not want to tell her the truth for the fear that the truth might just hurt her more than give her closure to how her mother really passed.

“No father, the real story - the truth. I do not wish to hear you tell me the same old wives tale of how you think I should know how she had died.” She was straight forward and very blunt with her response. Her father chuckled light-heartedly at her, which changed her facial expression from serious to confused. “Why did you laugh at me, I did not say anything funny or was intending to be funny.”

“I know you weren’t trying to be funny, lass. I laughed because you resemble your mother so much. Your looks and your personality are very similar, it’s scary sometimes. I know you didn’t know your mother too well, but I can swear that you are trying to mimic her life.” He told her, as she just stood still in her place and smiled at her father. He took in her appearance. She was only 8 years of age, but would what you think that she was an adult trapped in a child’s body. She had knowledge that only an explorer would have. She had her mother’s big heart, but knew that one day it would become her weakness, just like it had become to her mother - that is how she had met her fate. The similarities were endless.

“Well since you really would like to know, I will tell ya, but I want you to know that this might hurt you than give you closure.” He warned her one last time hoping that she would change her mind, but also so he would not have to see the images of her last moments come to the front of his mind. He was still recovering and this might break him once again.

“All I wish for is the truth.”

He told her the truth, he told her how her mother was trying to be nice and take in a man that was injured on the road into Boston. She had brought him back to the home which they shared, it was about a year after Eleanor was born. She had him rest in the parlor, but he had other plans than resting. He was a part of a secret organization and was ordered to kill her mother. He attacked her in the kitchen, with the poker that was next to the fireplace. She had put up a good fight and managed to stop his movement for a moment to get you from your room and hide you somewhere else in the house.

She hid the sleeping Eleanor in their master bedroom and locked the door behind her; she went back to find him in Eleanor’s room. He now had a kitchen knife and her mother had her hidden blades on her. They had fought like crazy. They had destroyed the walls furniture and other objects before he had used the fire poker once again to hit her on the side of her head, knocking her to the floor and slowing her movements. He had quickly advanced towards her grabbing her by her chestnut hair and stabbing her in the stomach twice before her husband had walked into the house.

He saw the scene before him and acted on pure instinct. He had killed the man before he even registered what was happening in his mind. He grabbed his wife’s bruised and bloody form on the hard wooden floor, concern, and devastation appeared on his face. She had told him to talk about something else and he chose their daughter. She smiled weakly as she had said that she wished the best for Eleanor and that she also wishes that he protect her with his life. She had told him that she was in their bedroom, sleeping soundly through the whole fight. He had tears running down his cheeks, and she slowly reached up to wipe them. On her last couple of breaths, she had told him that she had loved them both so much and that she would never leave them. Her last breath was interrupted, and then the room was filled with silence. He went to retrieve their daughter from the room and soon began to take her to where they had first actual talked to each other.

“I held your mother in my arms as she did her best to hide her pain. She wanted to talk to me before she had passed. I couldn’t let her go when she had left, but I had to go grab you from the room when I heard your screams.” He had tears welling on the brim of his eyes; a couple had fallen previously but had slowed.

Eleanor was broken; she had collapsed into her father’s arms as he carefully sat on the ground next to the grave. He embraced his daughter’s weeping form. She had looked to her mother’s grave and slowly stopped sobbing. Her tears soaked his robes, but he did not mind. He placed a kiss on top of her head and held her away from his body so he could look her in the eyes.

“Eleanor, listen to me lass. That’s all in the past now, but she wanted me to tell you that you were her greatest accomplishment, even if she was here to see you grow up, she said that she wanted you to know that she never left us, she is always with us.” He looked into her red, puffy, hazel-green eyes. He felt sorry. He knew this was going to happen, but he couldn’t lie to his daughter, because she was all he had left and secrets increase a person’s curiosity.

“Father, why? Why was that man trying to kill her in the first place? Was she involved in something bad?” Her tears had subsided and she was soon asking questions that he could not answer until she was older. He promised his wife that she would not know of the Templars and the Assassins until she was a young adult.

“I can’t tell you, lass, that’s something I vowed your mother that I wouldn’t tell you until you are much older.”

“Father, I -”

“Eleanor, please don’t ask me about that again. Your mother had written you a letter with all the answers to your questions.” He had to get her to stop talking about it, and it worked.

Silence was in the air for a couple of minutes, until Eleanor had stood on her feet, leaving her father’s arms and walked over to a flower patch with the different colored alyssums and plucked them from the ground. She then had returned to her mother’s grave and replaced the dead flowers with the freshly picked ones.

“I thought I should replace them before we leave today.” She had said when she finished. She stood in front of her grave, placing a small smile on her face. He rose from the ground and grabbed her hand and guided her to a nearby tree.

“Your mother and I came here when we first arranged a meeting together. She knew something about us and decided that she was going to document it on this tree; she had carved our names on this very tree. She had told me that she knew we were going to be together and start a family. She had picked out your name here.” He smiled at her and pointed to the scratched names in the bark.

Eleanor got a closer look and had read:

Shay and Annalise, our daughter Eleanor.

Eleanor smiled and looked at her father. “Father, I want you to know that I love you and I would stick by you forever. You are my father and my friend.” She said it with such alacrity, that it made him thinks that she wasn’t in tears earlier.

“The same is to be said about you, Eleanor.”

“Her memory will not be forgotten.”

They both had head home with a new view and was ready for new changes in their lives.

#Assassins Creed #Assassins Creed imagines #AC: Rogue #Shay Patrick Cormac #Shay Cormac #Shay Patrick Cormac imagine #Shay Cormac Imagine #shay cormac x reader #shay x reader

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chocolatequeennk · 6 years

Text

Forever and Never Apart, 39/42

Summary: After taking a year to recover from the Master, the Doctor and Rose are ready to travel again. But Time keeps pushing them forward, and instead of going back to their old life, they slowly realise that they’re stepping into a new life. Friends new and old are meeting on the TARDIS, and when the stars start going out, the Doctor and Rose face the biggest change of all: the return of Bad Wolf.

Series 4 with Rose, part 7 of Being to Timelessness; sequel to Taking Time (AO3 | FF.NET | TSP)

Betaed by @lastbluetardis, @rudennotgingr, @jabber-who-key, and @pellaaearien. Thank you so much!

This fills several Bad Wolf prompts on @doctorroseprompts

AO3 | FF.NET | TSP

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch 7 | Ch 8 | Ch 9 | Ch 10| Ch 11 | Ch 12 | Ch 13 | Ch 14 | Ch 15 | Ch 16 | Ch 17 | Ch 18 | Ch 19 | Ch 20 | Ch 21 | Ch 22 | Ch 23 | Ch 24 | Ch 25 | Ch 26 | Ch 27 | Ch 28 | Ch 29 | Ch 30 | Ch 31 | Ch 32 | Ch 33| Ch 34 | Ch 35 | Ch 36 | Ch 37 | Ch 38

Guys. You have no idea how excited I am for this chapter. I loved coming up with a solution to the Daleks that was original and fit the restrictions I'd placed on the story--Bad Wolf, but not with the Vortex power. I can't wait to hear what you think!

Chapter Thirty-nine: Time and Relative Dimension in Space

When Jack had first started crawling through the ventilation ducts, his wrist comp had indicated a large group of humans gathered together in the Crucible. A moment ago, the device had beeped, and he’d watched those dots—those indicators of life—flicker out.

Before helpless rage could set in, he realised there were still three human dots left outside the Vault, and they were close by. “Right,” he muttered to himself as he shimmied through the shaft to the closest access point. “You three are about to become my new best friends.”

He popped the access panel open and rolled out onto the floor. Flat on his back, he blinked a few times, then shot a cheeky grin at the familiar woman smirking down at him. Jack leapt to his feet and snapped a salute. “We meet at last, Miss Smith.”

He glanced at the couple standing behind Sarah Jane, and his eyes widened. “Jackie Tyler! You are honestly the last person I ever expected to meet onboard a Dalek stronghold.”

Rose’s mum frowned at him for a moment, then her expression cleared. “Oh, I remember you! You visited with Rose and the Doctor once, back before he changed his face.” She gestured to the man at her side. “This is my husband, Pete.”

Jack quickly shook Pete’s hand, then scanned the small group. “We’ve got to do something to help the Doctor.”

Sarah Jane nodded. “There is something we can do.”

She took a shuddering breath, and Jack had a feeling that whatever she was about to suggest was of the last resort variety.

“You’ve got to understand,” she said hurriedly. “I have a son down there on Earth. He’s only fourteen years old.”

Pete put a hand on her shoulder and nodded when Sarah Jane turned to look at him. “You don’t need to explain to us, Sarah Jane. We have a son, too. Whatever you want to do, if it will save the people down there on Earth, and on our Earth… we’re in.”

Jackie nodded in agreement.

Sarah Jane’s jaw tightened, and any hesitation she’d displayed disappeared. “I’ve brought this.” She pulled something out of her pocket, and when she unclenched her fist, a sparkling gem fell from her hand, dangling from a chain. “It was given to me by a Verron Soothsayer. He said, ‘This is for the End of Days.’”

She handed it to Jack, and he looked from the stone to Sarah Jane and back again. “Is that a Warp Star?” he asked, hardly daring to believe what he was holding. She nodded quickly, and Jack sucked in a breath. They might just have a chance, after all.

Jackie Tyler crossed her arms over her chest. “Someone mind telling the rest of us what a Warp Star is?” she snarked.

Jack couldn’t take his eyes off the weapon as it spun and sparkled in his hands. “A warpfold conjugation trapped in a carbonised shell. It’s an explosion, Jackie.” Reluctantly, he looked at Sarah Jane again. “An explosion waiting to happen.”

Blowing up the Crucible was a last resort, as he’d suspected. But compared to some extreme measures he’d been forced to employ over the years, there was very little moral ambiguity in this plan. Destroy the Daleks, save reality. It was as simple as that.

His conscience pricked at him, and he knew there was one more thing the Doctor would want him to do before he blew up the space station. They had to give the Daleks a chance—a chance to leave and let them all live.

oOoOoOoOo

Martha fidgeted with a pen she’d found on the desk. Osterhagen Station Four had come online only a few minutes after she’d sent out the call, but the bloke manning the station was tight-lipped and grim-faced.

She tapped the pen on the desk while she waited for a third station to come online. She had a plan, but since the Osterhagen Keys only worked when three of them were activated, she couldn’t implement it until another operative joined them.

A burst of static caught her attention, and she looked up as the feed from China went live. “This is Osterhagen Station Five. Are you receiving, Station One?”

“I’ve got you.” Martha glanced at the two live screens. “That makes three of us, and three is all we need.”

“My name is Anna Zhou. What’s yours?”

“Martha Jones.” She looked right. “What about you, Station Four? You never said.”

The officer in Liberia shook his head. “I don’t want my name on this, given what we’re about to do.”

“So what happens now?” Anna asked, filling in the awkward silence following that grave pronouncement. “Do we do it?”

Martha shook her head. With three keys in place, they had the leverage they needed to possibly convince the Daleks to leave. They might have to use the Osterhagen Key in the end, but first…

She turned the square key over in her hands. “No. Not yet.”

Anna frowned. “UNIT instructions say, once three Osterhagen Stations are online—”

“Yeah, but I’ve got a higher authority, way above UNIT,” Martha cut in. She looked at the disk that would activate the nuclear warheads. “And there’s one more thing the Doctor would do.”

She’d thought of a way to give the Daleks a chance. Whether or not they took it would be up to them.

oOoOoOoOo

Bad Wolf felt like she was floating as she danced around the TARDIS console. Each movement she made was so automatic and sure, it was like she’d practised it a hundred times over.

“Davros gave us the key to his own downfall,” she mused. The timelines she’d sensed when he showed them his own skeletal body made sense now.

The TARDIS hummed in agreement as Rose keyed the carefully chosen coordinates into the navigation panel.

“He created the Daleks out of his own genetic material, which means…” She tapped a few buttons to test her theory and grinned when the TARDIS confirmed that genetically, every Dalek on that station was identical to each other and their creator. This plan would work.

Bad Wolf jolted slightly when she felt another mind connect with hers. She’d become so completely connected with the TARDIS as they’d worked on their plan to defeat the Daleks that every other telepathic connection had been almost forgotten.

Rose?

The name felt… wrong, somehow. Incomplete. But before she could correct the Doctor, the part of her being that belonged to Rose Tyler asserted herself. Bad Wolf remembered that while she was Bad Wolf, she was also Rose and the TARDIS, individually.

Yes, Doctor?

He hesitated for a second. Am I talking to Rose, right now? Or to Bad Wolf? I mean. I know Bad Wolf is Rose, but they’re also not Rose and I would like…

His ramble and frustrated sigh brought a smile to Rose’s face, and she reached for the bond. Bad Wolf watched as she gave the Doctor an affectionate telepathic caress that seemed so familiar. A moment later, they felt the Doctor relax under the soft touch.

If you have a plan, love, now would be an excellent time to set it in motion.

The obvious indication that they were on borrowed time brought Bad Wolf back to the front of Rose’s mind. Davros and the Daleks were threatening her Doctor. A glint of gold filled her vision as she typed the final command into the TARDIS terminal, and a moment later, her sonic screwdriver beeped as it received the software update.

She slid the device into her pocket, then pulled his sonic out of his coat on impulse and put that in her pocket as well. We’ll be there soon, she promised the Doctor. I’ll keep you safe, my Doctor.

oOoOoOoOo

The Doctor’s eyes widened when he recognised the voice of Bad Wolf. Rose still used that endearment, but he’d never heard it spoken with quite the same intonation as she’d used that first time—until now.

She was still Rose; that hadn’t been a lie. But her typical pink and gold telepathic aura was now shot through with a deeper gold as the TARDIS connected her to Time.

He’d worried before that Rose’s… well, Roseness—the essence of what made her Rose—would be subsumed if she ever merged with the TARDIS again. But in that brief conversation with her, she’d felt just as much like Rose has she had in four years of telepathic conversation. And then the reminder of the imminent danger had brought Bad Wolf to the fore, and Bad Wolf had been completely Bad Wolf while still being completely Rose.

The dynamic state of being two things at once had flummoxed Christian theologians for millennia. And now, having experienced it, he couldn’t explain her dual nature, not even with his big Time Lord brain. He could only shrug and say, as theologians did, that it just was.

The view screen turned back on, interrupting his existential musings. The Doctor straightened up when he saw Martha’s face onscreen.

“This message is for the Dalek Crucible. Repeat. Can you hear me?”

“Put me through,” the Doctor ordered the Daleks.

“It begins, as Dalek Caan foretold,” Davros said.

Propped up in his open casing, Caan giggled softly. “The Children of Time will gather once the Wolf has been silenced.”

Even though he knew Rose was fine, those words still aggravated a wound that was too fresh to be picked at. “Stop saying that.” He looked at Davros and made his demand again. “Put me through!”

“Doctor!” Martha said, and the Doctor felt a rush of relief that they could see each other. Her eyes shifted from right to left, and he tensed in anticipation of her next words. “Where’s Rose?”

Davros rolled forward. “We took the TARDIS and Rose Tyler, and we destroyed them together.” He rubbed his hands together gleefully. “The Doctor was powerless to help her.”

Martha blinked rapidly and opened and closed her mouth a few times. Then she tilted her head and looked at the Doctor. “She was with the TARDIS?”

He nodded, and he hoped he was the only one who could read the relief in Martha’s posture. Like Jack and Mickey, Martha knew enough to find a grain of hope in that fact.

“Enough chatter,” Davros interrupted. “State your intent.”

Martha held up something, and another rock landed in the pit of the Doctor’s stomach when he recognised an authorisation key for a missile.

“I’ve got the Osterhagen Key,” Martha said grimly. “Leave this planet and its people alone or I’ll use it.”

“Osterhagen what?” the Doctor sputtered. “What’s an Osterhagen Key?”

Martha’s shoulders lifted and fell as she drew a breath. “There’s a chain of twenty-five nuclear warheads placed in strategic points beneath the Earth’s crust,” she explained. “If I use the key, they detonate and… the Earth gets ripped apart.”

It was exactly the kind of ridiculous last resort weapon humans would invent. And of course UNIT wouldn’t tell him about it, because they knew exactly what his response would be.

“What? Who invented that?” The Doctor shook his head. “Well, someone called Osterhagen, I suppose. Martha, are you insane?” He regretted the words as soon as he said them, but this just sounded so un-Martha like that he couldn’t even comprehend what she was saying.

She set her jaw. “The Osterhagen Key is to be used if the suffering of the human race is so great, so without hope”—she nodded a few times, because they were almost to that point, and they both knew it—“that this becomes the final option.”

The Doctor shook his head violently. “That’s never an option.” He’d destroyed his own planet—he knew the weight of that choice. Even though he knew it had been a choice between Gallifrey and the universe, he still wondered if he could have found a way to save them all.

“Don’t argue with me, Doctor!” Martha shouted. “Because it’s more than that. Now, I reckon the Daleks need these twenty-seven planets for something. But what if it becomes twenty-six?” She held the key up, a feral smile on her face. “What happens then? Daleks?” She looked over at Davros. “Would you risk it?”

The Doctor blinked; now that sounded more like Martha.

“She’s good,” Mickey said, and the Doctor raised an eyebrow at the blatant admiration in the other man’s voice.

A second screen suddenly split off from the first, this one showing Jack, Sarah Jane, and—the Doctor gaped—Pete and Jackie. “What?” he mumbled, though really, by this point in the day, he should be beyond feeling shocked by anything.

“Captain Jack Harkness, calling all Dalek boys and girls.” Jack was holding a bundle of wires up in front of the camera. “Are you receiving me? Don’t send in your goons, or I’ll set this thing off.”

“He’s still alive?” Jenny gasped, staring at Jack. “And… Who’s that, behind Sarah Jane?”

The Doctor glanced over at his daughter, then at his mother-in-law onscreen. “Well. That’s… that’s your gran and granddad.”

He winced when Jackie shrieked, silenced almost immediately by Pete’s hand over her mouth. Off to the side in his own holding cell, Mickey chortled.

“Captain, what are you doing?” he asked Jack, choosing to focus on the universe ending and not the fact that he’d just given Jackie the biggest shock of her life. At least, he assumed meeting your alien grandchild trumped learning aliens existed.

“I’ve got a Warp Star wired into the mainframe,” Jack said, and the Doctor finally recognised what was holding the tangle of wires together. “I break this shell, the entire Crucible goes up.”

“You can’t—where did you get a Warp Star?” the Doctor asked, momentarily distracted by that curiosity.

“From me,” Sarah Jane interrupted, shaking her head behind Jack. “We had no choice. We saw what happened to the prisoners.”

Davros wheeled closer to the screen. “Impossible. That face. After all these years.”

Sarah Jane moved to stand in front of Jack. “Davros. It’s been quite a while. Sarah Jane Smith. Remember?”

“Oh, this is meant to be,” Davros breathed rapturously, and a muscle in Sarah’s jaw twitched. “The circle of Time is closing. You were there on Skaro at the very beginning of my creation.”

“And I’ve learnt how to fight since then.”

There was a bite to Sarah’s words that caught the Doctor by surprise. He looked from her to Martha, and he started to understand. They were making a stand, all of them.

Sarah Jane pressed her lips into a thin line, and when she spoke, every word was measured and sharp. “You let the Doctor go, or this Warp Star gets opened.”

“I’ll do it,” Jack promised. “Don’t imagine I wouldn’t.”

“Now that is what I call a ransom!” Donna crowed.

The Doctor pressed his tongue to the back of his teeth. This wasn’t how he would have chosen to challenge the Daleks, but he couldn’t help but be proud that none of his friends were cowering at home. They were all doing something, whatever they could.

“And the prophecy unfolds,” Davros gloated.

The Doctor blinked. “Prophecy?” he repeated. “What prophecy?”

“The Doctor’s soul is revealed,” Caan sang. “See him. See the heart of him.”

Davros leaned back in his chair and tapped his fingers together, a vengeful smile creasing his sunken cheeks. “The man who abhors violence, never carrying a gun. But this is the truth, Doctor. You take ordinary people and you fashion them into weapons. Behold your Children of Time transformed into murderers. I made the Daleks, Doctor. You made this.”

The Doctor watched some of the fire go out of Martha, Jack, and Sarah Jane, and he shook his head quickly. “Not murderers, Davros. Defenders. Defenders of the Earth.” He nodded at Dalek Caan. “Caan was right. This shows you who I am. Not one of my friends was willing to just sit at home when you tried to take over the Earth.” A memory Rose had shared with him once came back to him, giving him the words to explain. “They didn’t give up or let things happen. They’re making a stand.”

He looked at all of his friends, now standing straight. “Would I have done things differently?” He shrugged. “Possibly. But I’m proud of all of them.”

Davros paused for a moment, and the Doctor knew his response hadn’t been what was expected. And not too long ago, he would have been lost to guilt.

“Would you still be proud of them if they gave their lives for you?” Davros challenged. “Your wife is not the only one who has sacrificed herself today, for their beloved Doctor. The Earth woman who fell opening the Subwave Network.”

“Who was that?” the Doctor asked, his stomach knotting as he braced for the answer.

“Harriet Jones,” Mickey told him.

The Doctor sucked in a breath. He’d barely thought about Harriet Jones of Flydale North since he’d had her removed from office almost four years ago.

“She gave her life to get you here,” Mickey added.

“How many more?” Davros goaded. “Just think. How many have died in your name?”

The Doctor looked at his friends, and he could see the truth in their eyes. They loved him, and they were here because of him, but not for him. They were here for the Earth, for their families, for all the people who didn’t have anyone to defend them.

And there were so many people who had made the same choice in his travels, the choice to put themselves in the path of danger to save a life or a planet. Their loss hurt, as it always did, but he couldn’t remember them without also remembering the people they’d saved. He wouldn’t cheapen their sacrifices by letting the guilt overwhelm him.

But Davros took his silence for guilty agreement, and he cackled. “The Doctor. The man who keeps running, never looking back because he dare not, out of shame. This is my final victory, Doctor. I have shown you yourself.”

Over the bond, Rose pulled him close. He felt a comforting warmth envelope him, as if she’d wrapped her arms around his waist and held him tight. For a moment, they both remembered the friends they had lost—Anita, Morvin and Foon and Banakafalata, Solomon, and so many others who had sacrificed their lives to save others.

But Davros is right, love, Rose agreed. He’s shown you how you change people, how you give them the strength to be the best people they can be. She pressed a kiss to his cheek. And he’s shown me how much you’ve changed. I’m so proud of you for understanding the truth.

The silence hanging in the Vault was heavy with emotion, but the Supreme Dalek didn’t let it sit long. “Enough. Engage defence mechanism zero five,” he ordered abruptly.

The Doctor’s eyes widened. He knew what that meant, even if his friends didn’t.

Onscreen, Martha stood up, holding the missile key in her hand. “It’s the Crucible or the Earth,” she said, delivering her ultimatum.

“Transmat engaged,” a Dalek said, and blue light engulfed Martha.

“No!” she shouted. The Osterhagen Key fell useless to the ground as she was transmatted to the Crucible.

On the other screen, Jack, Sarah Jane, Jackie, and Pete disappeared as well. They reached the Vault at the same time and almost the same place as Martha, and when Martha stumbled into a rolling landing, Jack helped her to her feet.

“I’ve got you. It’s all right.”

“Don’t move, all of you,” the Doctor warned his friends. “Stay still.” He reached for them, then silently cursed the containment field that was in his way.

“Guard them!” Davros cried, pointing at the newcomers. “On your knees, all of you. Surrender!”

Martha, Sarah Jane, Jack, Jackie, and Pete all looked to him for guidance, and the Doctor nodded his head quickly. “Do as he says.”

A Dalek slowly rolled towards them, and Jackie was the first to get on her knees with her hands behind her head. Pete was right behind her.

Mickey put his hands on his hips and glared at Pete. “I can’t believe you brought Jackie.”

Pete rolled his eyes, and the Doctor could guess the truth before he said it. “She came on her own.”

Jackie tilted her head back and scowled at the Doctor. “Good thing I did, or I wouldn’t know I had a granddaughter.”

“The final prophecy is in place,” Davros purred as he rolled towards them. “The Doctor and his children, all gathered as witnesses.”

Jack and the Doctor exchanged a glance—Jack questioning, the Doctor trying to reassure him without words that there was a plan in place.

Davros looked up at the main level of the Crucible above them. “Supreme Dalek, the time has come.” He pointed victoriously at the ceiling. “Now, detonate the Reality Bomb!” he shrieked, the words echoing through the Vault.

The floor vibrated as the mechanism was set in motion. At the same time, the Doctor felt the TARDIS shift into the Time Vortex.

“You can’t, Davros!” he insisted, continuing to play his part. “Just listen to me! Just stop!”

Davros threw his head back and laughed, sounding every bit like the mad scientist he was. “Nothing can stop the detonation. Nothing and no one!”

The Doctor couldn’t hide his smirk when he heard the first hint of the familiar sound of the TARDIS engines, a second before anyone else caught it. Dalek Caan giggled, and the Doctor shot him a quick glance, still unsure exactly what role the insane Dalek had played in the events of the day.

Wind rushed around them as the outline of the TARDIS appeared. “But that’s the TARDIS,” Donna said. “I thought… and Rose…”

Mickey shook his head. “Rose Tyler in the TARDIS? That’s a hard combination to beat.”

Jenny’s blue eyes sparkled with excitement. “Oh, I knew it!” she crowed, clapping happily and bouncing lightly on her toes.

The TARDIS materialised on the edge of the room, and Davros rolled back a few feet. “Impossible,” he whispered.

The Doctor rocked back on his heels, with his hands stuck in his pockets. “Oh… I learned a long time ago that nothing’s impossible for Rose Tyler.”

oOoOoOoOo

After kissing the Doctor’s cheek and letting him know how proud she was of him, Rose pulled back enough from the bond to focus on the details of her rescue. That moment with the Doctor had served a second purpose. She’d been able to see the Vault through his eyes—important, because the success of the next part of the plan was largely dependent on the selection of her hiding place.

She’d just settled on a small corner tucked away behind a computer terminal when the image on the monitor flickered and then changed to show the arrangement of planets glowing again. Her eyes widened, and she took a deep breath and looked at the time rotor.

“Are you ready, old girl?” Out of everything they’d planned, this was the part that seemed the most incredible to Rose. Bad Wolf knew it would work; Rose Tyler thought it was almost impossible.

I am part of you, my Wolf, just as you are part of me, the TARDIS reminded her. We don’t need the power of infinite Time to travel through time and space.

Rose nodded. “All right then. Let’s do it.” The time rotor moved up and down, and at the same time, the console room faded from Rose’s sight as she sent herself separately into the Vault.

Rose had used a Vortex Manipulator before, but that was nothing like travelling through the Vortex as one who belonged there. Time whipped around her as she crossed the short distance, until she rematerialised behind the computer terminal, exactly as she’d planned.

The gold haze was still clearing from her vision when Rose peeked around the edge of the computer terminal to assess the situation. In addition to everyone who had been in the TARDIS, Martha and Sarah Jane were there along with—Rose had to press her hand to her mouth to stifle her gasp—her mum and Pete.

Every eye was focused on the TARDIS, who had positioned herself on the edge of the room. Hidden safely from view, Rose watched the Doctor. He was rocking back on his heels with a smug grin on his face.

“Oh… I learned a long time ago that nothing’s impossible for Rose Tyler,” he told Davros, in response to a comment Rose hadn’t heard.

For a moment, Rose’s grin matched his. Then a mad glint entered Davros’ eyes and he pointed a shaking hand at the Doctor. “Exterminate him!” he shrieked, angry spittle gathering on his chin.

Daleks rolled towards the Doctor, chanting, “Exterminate. Exterminate. Exterminate.”

With the threat to their Doctor, Bad Wolf once more moved to the front of Rose’s mind. Her fingers danced over the controls on the terminal until she found the ones she needed and pressed them gleefully.

A low hum echoed around the room as every single Dalek weapon was rendered useless. The Daleks circling the Doctor looked down at their death rays, like children whose favourite toys had been taken away.

“Weapons non-functional,” they croaked morosely.

Rose straightened up so they could see her. Gasps echoed around the Vault and her mum cried her name, but Rose focused on Davros, whose hollow eyes glared at her balefully.

“Yeah, did you really think I was going to let you kill him?” she demanded. “I might not be able to stop your laser bolts in midair anymore, but I can still shut all your weapons off thanks to this handy terminal that lets me into your mainframe. So you might as well just point those egg beaters somewhere else, because they aren’t going to do you any good.”

The Doctor blinked rapidly. “How did you get over there?” he asked, looking from her to the TARDIS and back again.

Rose winked at him. “Bad Wolf means I’m both me and I’m the TARDIS. Anything the TARDIS can do, I can do. Such as disappearing from one place and reappearing in another.”

The Doctor opened and shut his mouth a few times before finally shaking his head. “Of course you can,” he said, a smile stretching across his face.

Flush with the success of her first task, Rose jumped when the Supreme Dalek started the final countdown to detonation. She’d almost forgotten about the Reality Bomb. Davros turned the view screen back on, and they all watched the energy being channelled through the twenty-seven planets.

Davros steepled his hands together and a malicious grin stretched his face unnaturally. “Your mate is alive, your TARDIS is here, and yet you are still helpless, Doctor.”

“Detonation in twenty rels,” the Supreme Dalek announced over the tannoy.

“Stand witness, Time Lords,” Davros whispered as the Supreme Dalek continued the countdown. “Stand witness, humans. Your strategies have failed, your weapons are useless, and—Oh.” His lips twisted into a mocking smile. “The end of the universe has come,” he said as they all watched the glowing planets.

Rose rolled her eyes. “Or, I don’t know.” She pushed another button on the terminal, and the ominous buzz of energy building in the weapon faded as the Z-neutrino relays were shut down. “Maybe not?” she said nonchalantly when the view screen turned off.

The Doctor laughed as an alarm sounded through the Vault. Davros and the Daleks were rolling around, completely baffled, but he knew exactly what had happened.

“System in shutdown,” said one Dalek.

“Detonation negative,” another announced.

“Explain. Explain. Explain!” the Supreme Dalek demanded.

“You’ll suffer for this,” Davros cried and pointed his finger at Rose.

The Doctor frowned; what exactly did Davros think he was going to do by just pointing a finger at Rose? Then he saw the bolt of energy travelling down the scientist’s arm, and his gaze flew to Rose.

Rose just smirked and pushed a button on her computer terminal, and the electrical bolt that was travelling down Davros’ finger reversed and he electrocuted himself, instead of Rose.

Davros shrieked in pain when the electricity engulfed him, and the Doctor laughed again. “Hoisted by your own petard, Davros.”

“Seemed fitting,” Rose said, her tongue peeking out behind her teeth.

“Oh, I absolutely agree,” the Doctor said. “Bad Wolf, saving the day single-handedly.”

Rose raised an eyebrow at him. “Well, you could help if you wanted. Why’re you just standing over there?” she asked. The Doctor tapped the side of the holding cell, and she nodded quickly. “Oops! Sorry, Doctor.” She bent over the terminal for a moment, then smiled up at him. “That should do it.”

He saw the containment field shut off and ran over to her while she pressed another button that sealed the Vault off from the rest of the Crucible. “Rose Tyler,” he breathed as he pulled her into his arms, unable to resist a quick hug. The golden energy he could see fluctuating beneath her skin sent a charge through him when he touched her. “You are so impressive, love.”

She spun out of his arms and shot him a cheeky grin. “Oh, I know,” she promised him. “And now I think it’s time to send some planets home. We’ve stopped the bomb—let’s completely dismantle it.”

“Stop them!” Davros ordered hysterically. “Get them away from the controls.”

Rose rolled her eyes and worked quickly at the terminal. “You’re so fond of those holding cells; why don’t you spend some time in one yourself?”

The Doctor rubbed his hands together gleefully as the blue energy walls of the containment fields lowered. A large wall separated Davros and the bulk of the Daleks in the other half of the room, where they couldn’t do any damage. The rest she trapped in groups of two or three.

I don’t know why you wanted my help, Rose. You seem to be handling them by yourself just fine.

Rose looked back at him over her shoulder, one eyebrow arched seductively. There are lots of things I can handle by myself that are more fun with your help.

The Doctor choked on his laughter and tugged on his tie. You’ll have to show me later.

Oh, I will.

He laughed when Rose winked outrageously before bending over the computer terminal. Her lips moved as she muttered to herself, and he rocked back on his heels to watch her work. All teasing aside, she really did have things nicely handled all by herself.

The sound of Daleks spinning in helpless circles caught his attention, and when he looked away from Rose, he saw their entire family watching them. Jenny, Donna, Jack, Martha, Mickey, Sarah Jane, and Pete and Jackie—all alive because of Rose.

The Doctor frowned when Jack broke away from the group and ran into the TARDIS. What is he up to?

Jack had to hand it to Rose; so far, every one of her plans had been flawless. She’d arrived at the perfect moment, eliminated the Dalek threat, stopped Davros from blowing up all of reality… He scanned the Vault, his eyes never settling in one place for long. Things were going perfectly, and it was his job to make sure there were no hidden surprises.

Unlike everyone else, he hadn’t laughed when Rose trapped the Daleks behind the containment fields. Rose had taken care of the Dalek threat in the Vault… for now. But these weren’t the only Daleks around, and he was under no illusion that the Supreme Dalek and his pals upstairs would let them ruin all their hard work.

He shook his head and ran into the TARDIS. The guns he and Mickey had brought with them were just inside the door, and he grabbed them and ran back out.

“Mickey!” His friend spun around, and Jack tossed the second weapon to him.

“What are you doing, Jack?” the Doctor demanded as Mickey caught the gun handily.

Jack shook his head. “Just being prepared for the worst,” he explained. “Rosie here seems to have everything well in hand, but… well, I’d rather not be caught off-guard.”

Bad Wolf felt a wave of affection and appreciation for this human she had condemned to eternity. There were reasons for that, reasons that he wouldn’t fully understand until he used his last breath to offer the Doctor and Rose a warning they wouldn’t understand until it was too late. But despite the fact that Time had insisted on this path, her humanness deeply regretted the pain it had caused him.

The Doctor opened his mouth to protest, and Rose put her hand on his arm and smiled up at him. “It’s fine, Doctor. Now. We’ve got twenty-seven planets to send home. Activate magnetron.”

“Stop this at once!” Davros cried futilely from the other side of the containment field.

She snorted. “You’re not really in a position to be making demands,” she pointed out. Then she turned and looked at the Doctor, one eyebrow raised. “Ready to finish this?” she murmured.

The Doctor caught her hand and pressed a kiss to her fingers. “I’m always ready to save the universe at your side.”

He took his place on the other side of the terminal. They each reached for a pair of rods that would demagnetise the planets and send them home where they belonged.

“Off you go, Clom,” the Doctor said. “And back home, Adipose Three.”

Rose’s fingers tingled as she pulled on her controls. “Shallacatop, Pyrovillia, and the Lost Moon of Poosh. All back where you belong.”

The power meter dipped, and Rose tossed the Doctor his sonic screwdriver. “Can you take care of that?”

He caught the tool handily, with a toothy grin on his face. “I’m on it.” He bent down and shifted a few settings on the terminal, letting them reroute power from areas of the Crucible that didn’t need it.

During the brief lull in activity, Jenny jogged over and wrapped Rose in a hug from behind. “I thought you were dead for a little bit,” she whispered.

Rose squeezed Jenny’s hands, then pulled her around to stand beside her. “But I’m here now,” she said softly.

“Yeah, about that,” Donna started. Then she stared at Rose and blinked a few times. “You’re… glowing,” she said. “I mean, never mind the rest of it—how you survived the Z-neuron energy or whatever it’s called, and how you even got here… Your skin is glowing, Rose.”

Jackie left Pete standing with Mickey and walked over to them. Rose winked at her over Donna’s shoulder, then said, “I get my youthful glow from my mum.”

Jackie snorted. “Oh, don’t even try it. There’s no beauty creme that can do that.” She took Rose’s hand and held her arm up. “You can see the light shifting, look. So, come on then—what’s this mean, you’re part you and part TARDIS?”

The Doctor straightened up from the terminal and exchanged a grin with Rose. “Well, for one thing,” the Doctor drawled as they continued sending planets back where they belonged. “You know how you and Donna are always teasing me about Rose being a better driver than I am, Jenny?”

“That’s because she is, Dad,” Jenny said frankly.

“Oi!”

Rose giggled as she sent Woman Wept back to its home system. “And this is why. I promise we’ll explain it better later when we have more time, but the short version is that I can… merge with the TARDIS.”

“My daughter is part spaceship,” Jackie said faintly.

Donna looked from the ship back to Rose, who nodded, encouraging her to continue. “And while the ship was landing, you materialised over here, just like she does.”

“Exactly!” Rose bobbed her head. “You’re brilliant, Donna.”

For once, Donna didn’t argue.

Just as the Doctor was congratulating himself and Rose for handling that complicated explanation, Jackie narrowed her eyes at him. The Doctor stared back at her with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“Well, that’s one question answered,” she said. “But I’ve got another one. How long has it been for you two, if this is my granddaughter?” She pointed to Jenny and lifted her chin in challenge.

The Doctor winced when Rose looked up at him, her eyes wide. “You told her?” she hissed.

“It just slipped out!” He pulled his rods again and sent Callufrax Minor and Jahoo back. “And Jackie, it’s not like that,” he continued. “Jenny is…”

Don’t you dare tell my mum your daughter isn’t mine! Rose ordered.

And just in time. The Doctor snapped his mouth shut when he realised exactly how that would have sounded to Jackie. “Um… it’s complicated,” he said, his voice weak.

Thankfully, Davros started talking again, interrupting any other questions Jackie might have had. “But you promised me, Dalek Caan.” He spun in his chair to look at Dalek Caan. “Why did you not foresee this?”

Dalek Caan cackled, confirming the Doctor’s suspicions. “Oh, I think he did. Because someone was there the whole time, making sure we got the information we needed. Who made sure that fortune teller on Shan Shen would target Rose, so she’d get the glimpse of the alternate timelines and dream of Mickey telling her the stars were going out?”

“This would always have happened.” Caan waved his tentacles. “I only helped, Doctor.”

“You betrayed the Daleks?” Davros asked incredulously.

Caan’s single eye glared at Davros. “I saw the Daleks,” he corrected hotly. “What we have done, throughout time and space—I saw the truth of us, Creator, and I decreed, ‘no more!’”

A shudder ran through the Doctor. He had used those words once too, to declare an end to the Time War. They’d beat a steady rhythm in his head through those final days of the war—no more.

He felt a hand slip into his, and he looked over at Rose, who’d left her side of the console to offer him this little bit of comfort.

A hatch opened in the ceiling, and Jack lifted his weapon when the Supreme Dalek slowly lowered himself into the Vault. “Heads up!” he called out.

“Davros, you have betrayed us,” the Supreme Dalek said ominously.

“It was Dalek Caan,” Davros protested.

“The Vault will be purged. You will all be exterminated,” the Supreme Dalek said, then fired a laser bolt at the control panel, sending Donna and Jenny to the floor.

Jack shook his head and primed his weapon. “Like I was saying, feel this!”

He’d turned the energy blast up all the way, and the broad beam was powerful enough to blow the top off the heavily armoured Dalek.

The Doctor barely noticed Jack dispatching the Supreme Dalek. As soon as the blast had sent Jenny and Donna flying, he’d ducked around the computer terminal to check on them.

“You all right?” he asked in a low voice as he helped them to their feet.

Donna put a hand to her forehead and shook her head slowly. “Fine, Spaceman. I think I might have a bit of a headache later, though.” She gestured at the terminal. “Go on, finish up here so we can go home.”

“Easier said than done,” Rose said. “That blast destroyed the magnetron. We managed to get every planet back where it belonged first… except one. And guess which one that is.”

The Doctor turned and looked at her. “If the Earth is the only one left, we can use the TARDIS to take it home.”

Rose stood up from where she’d crouched behind the terminal, and for a moment, the Doctor thought he saw a glint of gold in her eyes. “You take care of the Earth, my Doctor. I will take care of the Daleks.”

The Doctor looked at her, then at Davros. “I’m on it,” he promised. Then he reached up into the mass of wires dangling over the computer terminal. Rose could see the plans in his mind as easily as those in her own, and she knew he was stabilising the atmospheric shell around the Earth so it would remain in place while they pulled the planet back to the solar system.

Bad Wolf looked at Davros, who was now cowering in his chair after seeing the amount of firepower Jack carried. The TARDIS had nearly lost her Thief and her Wolf to this race too many times to count. She knew this would not be the last time they were a threat, but it was time to end this round.

“The prophecy must complete,” Dalek Caan said.

Bad Wolf nodded and pulled her sonic screwdriver out of her pocket, then carefully checked the setting.

“Don’t listen to him,” Davros ordered.

At the same time, the Doctor pushed a wave of confidence and trust towards her. Do what needs to be done, Rose, he said as he jogged into the TARDIS.

Dalek Caan didn’t seem to be bothered by the Doctor’s sudden disappearance. “I have seen the end of everything Dalek, and you must make it happen, Bad Wolf.”

The sympathy Rose felt for this one Dalek brought her mind to the forefront. She nodded. “You’ll be alone,” she warned him. Well. At least until the station breaks down completely from the pressure of having a wormhole open up in the centre of it.

Dalek Caan waved a tentacle at her, and she knew he understood his fate. “I will die, Bad Wolf. And I am ready. Are you?”

In answer, Rose flipped the switch on the computer terminal that turned off the containment fields. Then she held up her sonic screwdriver and depressed the button. The air rippled at the centre of the Vault, then like a curtain on a play, it parted to reveal a shimmering wormhole.

Davros was the first to be pulled into the wormhole. His chair skidded over the floor as he worked with his joystick frantically, trying to stay on the Crucible.

“You, Bad Wolf!” he shrieked as he reached the event horizon. “Never forget that you did this!”

Rose crossed her arms and watched as the Daleks were pulled into the wormhole one by one. She wouldn’t forget she’d done this, but she wouldn’t regret it either—not if it meant saving the Doctor and the Earth and all of reality.

A loud cracking sound warned her that the power of the wormhole was already damaging the integrity of the station, and she turned to her family. “Get into the TARDIS,” she hollered as the computer terminal caught on fire.

When everyone else faltered, too confused and overwhelmed to move, Jack pushed Donna and Jenny towards the door. “Come on, you heard the lady.” His words prodded the rest of them into motion, and less than a minute later, they were all safely on the ship.

Alone on the Crucible, Rose watched the steady stream of Daleks flowing towards the black hole. No Daleks escaped the trap. Just like what had happened at Canary Wharf, the pull was powerful enough to draw in every Dalek on every Dalek ship and from anywhere on Earth.

The Doctor came up beside her and took her hand, and together they watched in silence as the last of the Daleks was sucked through the wormhole. There was no manic energy this time, no joyful, “Pulling them all in!” Instead, they shared the quiet conviction that they’d done what had been necessary to save the universe.

The air rippled again as the wormhole closed, leaving the Vault in silence. “You must go,” Dalek Caan ordered, his voice warbling. “You must go, and I must die.”

The TARDIS knew to the second how much longer the Crucible would remain intact, which meant Rose did too. She nodded at Dalek Caan and turned to go back to the TARDIS. When the Doctor remained stationary, she paused and frowned up at him.

He squeezed her hand once, then let go. I’ll be right behind you, love, he promised. Rose nodded, then spun around and ran into the TARDIS.

The Doctor looked at the naked form of the Dalek, struggling to reconcile his ingrained hatred with his gratitude for what had just happened.

“Thank you,” he finally told the Dalek in a low voice.

The Dalek simply waved his tentacles at him. “This was what time foretold, Time Lord. Now go!”

A beam fell from the ceiling right in front of the Doctor. He stumbled back a few steps, then turned and ran for the ship. As soon as he shut the doors behind him, Rose threw the lever and took them off the Crucible, less than a minute before the explosion they both knew was coming. The time rotor started moving with a loud churning noise, and they held their breath until they felt the ship slide through the Vortex, then materialise on the other side of the Earth, safely away from the explosion.

Rose blew out a loud breath. “Well, that was cutting it a bit closer than I anticipated.”

“What exactly did you do?” Martha asked. “You just… pressed a button on your screwdriver, and suddenly a giant hole opened up in the middle of the room.”

Rose rocked back on her heels and put her hands in her pockets, and the Doctor knew he was the only one who could see the melancholy lurking behind her confidence. “We just opened a wormhole between the Crucible and the heart of a black hole.”

The Doctor sucked in a breath at the perfection of the plan, and Rose flashed him a smile before continuing.

“And we set it to lock onto their shared genetic structure—kinda like the black hole was the positive side of a magnet, and their DNA was the negative side. They couldn’t escape getting pulled in.”

Their friends stared at her, and Rose’s eyes glinted. “It’s the perfect prison,” she stated confidently. “They’ll never be able to get out of a black hole.”

The Doctor squeezed her hand. “And a perfect prison, even an endless one, is better than genocide. You found a way to remove them from reality without killing them.”

His thumb brushed against hers. I’m proud of you.

Thank you, Doctor.

Mickey shook his head. “Yeah, it’s a brilliant plan. That’s not why we’re all looking at you like you grew another head. You opened a wormhole?” he repeated.

“You heard me say Bad Wolf is part TARDIS, yeah?” Mickey nodded, and Rose raised an eyebrow. “Well, what does a TARDIS do?”

His confused frown smoothed out. “They open wormholes.”

“Anyway!” the Doctor said, before their family could bury Rose under the deluge of questions he imagined they had. “I think we still have a planet to get home, don’t we?”

“That’s right!” Sarah Jane exclaimed. “The Earth is still in the wrong part of space.”

He grinned at her and pressed a button on the terminal, calling Torchwood. “I’m on it. Torchwood Hub, this is the Doctor. Are you receiving me?”

The TARDIS monitor turned on, showing an industrial-looking room and a frightened but determined woman. “Loud and clear,” she said. “What did you do to the Daleks? One of them had almost gotten into the Hub, and then suddenly it went flying through the air and disappeared.”

The Doctor glanced up at Rose. “Let’s just say Rose sent them packing on a one-way trip.” Rose rolled her eyes at his Aladdin quote, and he giggled happily.

“Oi!”

The sharp retort came from the Welsh woman, and the Doctor felt his ears get hot. “Yes. Sorry.” She seemed awfully familiar, to both him and to Rose. “Jack, what’s her name?”

“Gwen Cooper.”

An idea tickled the edges of the Doctor’s mind. “Tell me, Gwen Cooper, are you from an old Cardiff family?”

She blinked and nodded. “Yes, all the way back to the eighteen hundreds.”

“Ah, thought so.” He looked at Rose and they shared a grin. “Spatial genetic multiplicity.”

“Oh, yeah,” Rose agreed, sharing the memory of another Gwyneth from Cardiff with him.

“Yeah, it’s a funny old world,” the Doctor said, then forced himself back on track. He’d arranged for the atmospheric shell around the Earth to hold for little bit longer, but it wouldn’t stay forever. “Now, Torchwood, I want you to open up that rift manipulator. Send all the power to me.”

A sharply dressed man stuck his head in front of the monitor. “Doing it now, sir.”

“What’s that for?” Donna asked.

The Doctor looked up at her as he placed another call. “It’s a tow rope. Now then, Sarah, what was your son’s name?”

A bright smile crossed his old friend’s face. “Luke. He’s called Luke. And the computer’s called Mr. Smith.”

“Calling Luke and Mr. Smith. This is the Doctor. Come on, Luke. Shake a leg.” Sarah Jane had her hands clasped in front of her, and he could easily understand her anxiety.

But there was no need to worry. Luke ran into the video frame, a wide, hopeful smile on his face. “Is Mum there?”

“Oh yeah, she’s brilliant,” Rose assured him.

The Doctor enjoyed the matching smiles that lit up mother and son’s faces. Sarah Jane danced in place and cried out “Yes!” a few times as he explained what he needed to Luke.

“Yeah, we all made it out,” he told Luke. “Now, Mr. Smith, I want you to harness the rift power and loop it around the TARDIS. You got that?”

“I regret I will need remote access to TARDIS base code numerals,” the computer answered, his voice smooth and unemotional.

The Doctor straightened and raked his hand through his hair. “Oh, blimey, that’s going to take a while.”

“No, no, no,” Sarah Jane said, pushing him away from the monitor to talk to her family. “Let me. K9, out you come!

K9 teleported into the room beside Luke. “Affirmative, Mistress.”

The Doctor laughed gleefully. “Oh! Oh ho! Oh, good dog!” he praised. “K9, give Mr. Smith the base code.”

“Master.” The antenna probe in K9’s forehead extended as he rolled towards Mr. Smith. “TARDIS base code now being transferred,” he said as he pressed the probe to a port in the computer. “The process is simple.”

While everyone else was distracted by the robot dog and the activity at Sarah Jane’s house, Rose pressed her hands to the console. The Doctor watched her carefully and realised almost immediately what she was doing. The two strands of his bonds with Rose and the TARDIS separated, and the golden light pulsing under her skin flowed out of her hands and back into the TARDIS.

When Rose was alone in her body again, he wrapped an arm around her waist so no one else would notice the way she slumped. She leaned into him and took a few deep breaths, then she straightened and smiled up at him. Thank you, love.

For a moment, the Doctor got lost in the gold flecks still glittering in her eyes. The reminder of the power she could wield—the power that came most readily to keep him safe—awed and humbled him. He returned her smile. Anything for my Bad Wolf.

“We’re ready,” Luke said.

The Doctor blinked, then looked at the monitor. “All right Luke, thank you. I’m going to end the call for now. Your mum should be home in less than an hour, all right?” Luke nodded, and the Doctor turned the monitor off.

“What now, Dad?” Jenny asked.

The Doctor pushed back from the console. “Well, now we fly the Earth home.” He hustled Sarah Jane back to her earlier position and pointed at a lever. “Sarah, hold that down. Mickey, you hold that,” he added, pointing to a dial. “Because you know why this TARDIS always is always rattling about the place?”

On the other side of the console, Rose was showing Martha, Donna, and Jenny which controls they could use. Then she took the last place, one hand resting the velocity dial and the other on the dematerialisation lever. She looked up and winked at the Doctor, and he grinned back at her before finishing his rambling lesson on TARDIS flight.

“It’s designed to have six pilots, and Rose and I do it with just two. But not any more. Look at you, flying her like she’s meant to be flown.” He patted a strut. “We’ve got the Torchwood rift looped around the TARDIS by Mr. Smith, and we’re going to fly Planet Earth back home.”

Rose picked up on her cue and threw the lever. The time rotor moved slowly, with the weight of an entire planet behind the ship, but without the clunky chugging sound that usually accompanied their flight. Mickey was doing his job then with the stabiliser. That was a nonessential step in the flight manual that the Doctor simply didn’t have hands to handle, but feeling the smoothness of their flight, he was starting to think he ought to find a way.

Pete and Jackie were standing behind the jump seat, looking uncomfortable and out of place. The Doctor circled the console and smiled awkwardly at them. “No room for us at the console, though.”

Jackie stared at Rose. “That’s my daughter.”

The Doctor nodded. “Yes, it is.”

“And she’s… She just looks like she belongs here.”

Pride beat through the Doctor’s hearts as he watched Rose operate her own controls, while also helping Jenny and Donna, who stood on either side of her. He stepped forward quickly to adjust Sarah Jane’s hold on her lever, then looked back at Jackie.

“I know this isn’t the life you imagined for Rose when she was a girl, but I’ve never met anyone in a thousand years who belonged on the TARDIS as much as she does.” He rubbed his thumb over his wedding band. “I lived this life without her for centuries, and she just makes everything so much better.”

To his surprise, Jackie suddenly threw herself into his arms. “Thank you,” she whispered into his suit jacket.

The Doctor blinked at Pete over her head, then shrugged and hugged her back. He could feel Rose gaping at them from the other side of the console.

“What are you thanking me for?” he asked his mother-in-law.

Jackie pulled back and wiped her eyes.“I knew you loved Rose, but I still thought she was just your assistant. Regular Rose, I mean—when she’s not all glow-y and getting rid of Daleks. But the golden light is gone, and you’re still treating her like your partner.”

Ah.

The Doctor shook his head. “Bad Wolf is Rose’s story, so I’ll let her explain when she’s ready. But for me…” He looked over his shoulder. Rose was leaning over Jenny’s controls, reaching for another dial. She felt him watching her, and the tongue-touched smile she gave him in reply made his hearts skip a beat. “Rose has always been my partner.”

The TARDIS hummed in his mind, and he realised they were almost to the end of the line. “Excuse me, Jackie.”

Rose already had her hand on the lever when he joined her at the console, and she arched her eyebrow when he purposely wrapped his hand around hers. The Doctor returned her smirk with one of his own.

What was it you said earlier, love? There are lots of things I can handle by myself that are more fun with your help.

Their laughter echoed around the console room as they threw the lever together, putting the Earth back right where she belonged.

#ficandchips #ten x rose #dwfic #fic by Nancy #doctorroseprompts #series: Being to Timelessness #cq's fic: forever and never apart #bad wolf!rose is important to me #we are finally here!#I can't wait to hear what you think #seriously #sarah jane smith #mickey smith #jackie tyler #pete tyler #jenny tyler #donna noble #martha jones #jack harkness

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