Daemos

its Alfred, holding a tray with food and a tin of warm water with towel, behind him, arms wrapped around the Oldman's leg is a little boy about 4 years old: his little head covered in spiky black hair and striking light blue eyes.

he looks just like his father

you smile softly; your body relaxes along with your voice.

"hey Alfred, hi JD"

He smiled back, it never reaching his eyes "Good evening Mrs. Drake, would care for some raspberry leaf tea? ive heard it has amazing properties for the baby, and it tastes darn good with a teaspoon of honey."

you chuckle and roll your eyes, patting the head of the little boy now snuggled into you.

" Alfred please, I thought we were closer than that. no need to call me that, [name]'s just fine."

he settles the tray down next to you and its only then when you get the full aroma of the tea and freshly baked snacks.

" Aww how could I ever repay you for this" you tease.

he sighs jokingly, " you could start by properly teaching Jack about the use of magic. I wouldn't want him burning down they house would we, that would result in over baked cookies which personally wouldn't eat."

you lightheartedly laugh. It wouldn't be the first time jack had used his magic without learning first. Its just how kids are with magic, you can't blame him. You were the same once.

You pat jacks head and his big eyes meet your, he's using his puppy eyes and your heart slightly skips. Hes too cute.

"don't worry Alfred, we are working on that, it takes a little more time than it would be teaching a kid abc"

'"right on then."

You munch on the cookies and tea, you didn't complain when Alfred started massaging your swollen feet because knowing him he would have persisted.

You could barely see the kneeling Alfred due to your round belly and jack was off to the side, punching the air to let out tiny sparks of fire through his knuckles.

Your smile fades down, though you hadn't want to think about it you were worried. Your husband was out fight a guy even superman needed help on. Of course you trusted him, he was smart and observing and strong in battle but you couldn't help it.

You whisper low enough for Alfred to hear.

"how are they faring up against the villian" your voice shook softly.

Alfred for a brief second stopped, the sloshing of the water settled down and only silence was left.

" We are both worried... for all of them... but we must have faith-"

you nod to yourself and he pats your shoulder.

" For both you and your children it's best not to fret. if you would like I can turn on the television and see." he motioned. he was doing it easy this uncontrollable feeling of fear.

he was right. you needed to relax you are due at any moment this week and stress isn't good. think of it as something as such a regular mission, those you know how to work through after all you have bene together for a long time now.

you look at Alfred, now tapping away on the bat computer. he's been through his longer than you wish would explain his rationality in that sense you kind of envy him but for the worry that it brings every time? you don't.

but.

you trust Tim to come back every time.

your fingers swirl around lost though as magic fluff swirls around with it when you feel a tug on your shirt.

its your son.

" hi Jd, what's wrong baby, are you done with magic??" you ask

" clowd" he says softly his eyes droopy and stature low.

you pop up a cloud big enough to engulf him, it appears from under his feet and cuddles up to it. ( if you have seen or read witch hat atelier then think of the cloud that Tetia created)

he must have tired himself out.

The tv turns on and the first thing that pops up is the fight in metroplis, the supervillian teleports from one portal through another, evading superman's punches and to the side and on screen other heroes join in.

you breathe a sigh of relief.

they seem to be handeling it so far.

Alfred turns to you, a soft smile.

" See, they are doing just fine, no need to worry [name} he sooths and with that your shoulders Suttle and your body feels lighter.

" Alfred I only wished to have gone with them, to aid in some way even if it's with healing"

" Well, if that were the case then i simply cannot let you, it would be breaking my invisible agreement with master Tim when he dropped you off. he trusts you to be safe here and il abide by that"

you only nod your head.

Tim had brought you over as soon as he heard he was needed." stay here, you'll be safer then alone" he told you.

your son now peacefully sleeping next to you clung on to his dad, afraid of saying goodbye.

just as your thoughts drifted away the news cuaght both and apariently alfreds attention.

on the screen showed a lady, mic in hand and following the chaos and fight.

"This is Vicky vale, here from metropolis. there has been reports of people disappearing though portals from what is to believe to have come from angs-----." she screams, as she is sucked it a portal

the tv turned off with a click of a button.

" Maybe it's best not to think about it, we wouldn't bad energy following us." he quickly dismissed and as if right on time, the ground shook and before you could even yell, you were falling in infinity.

the last thing you see being Alfred, reaching over as the threads seperated.

a long time passes, not sure how long but youre awake now.

You don't know what happened... you really dont know.

you were with Alfred and jack then the next thing... nothing... you must have passed out because you are back in the Batcave. everything's the same just no Alfred or Jack.

they must have gone up stairs... you think.

with an aching back you stand up, peeling the cold floor from your skin. that's the last time you'll ever sleep on the cave floor, intentionally or not.

a sudden rush of wind howls down the tunnel and a motor engine hums.

your heart skips a beat. they are back? already?

that's a relief. you for sure thought that fight would take a while longer but it didn't matter now. you would be soothed and tim's arms, go back to how you guys were before this mission, cuddling up and relaxing.

as you anticipated the bat-mobile rolled in, coming slowly to a rumbling stop.

you waved your arms the best you could in your pregnant condition, smiling ear to ear.

something looked different about the bat mobile. new model maybe? fresh coat? tim hadnt told you about it but you didnt care. he was here.

the pressure from the door released and popped open. the first one to get out was batman, his black suit trailing behind him.

" good afternoon, bruce" you greeted, still looking passed him for your husband.

he stopped in his track and fist slightly clunched.

" who are you and how did you get in here" his voice rang loud.

you looked at him confused. did he not recognize you? the wife of one of his sons? you had talked to him just this morning? was this a joke?

" I won't repeat myself. who are you" he demanded this time, rougher this time, his hand hovering over his armed belt.

you chuckle nervourversly.

" Bruce this isn't funny, didn't think you for a joker type. I'm [ reader]?"

his dominos masked sowed only confusiona nd cuation still.

" tims wife?'' you confusidely annonced. " bruce what the heck is up with you? i talked to you this morning? youve known me for years." now anger rose from you. no. not anger but it was just the audacity from him to forget. greatist detictive my ass.

as you ranted, batman motioned to fingers up in a back and forth motion..

nightwing was the first to get out, he looked pretty much the same, maybe some wrinkles gone.

then jason who you wouldnt make out due to his helmet.

another foot jumped up.

you stopped.

you were paralized and in shock.

" i think you go it wrong lady, i mean flattering but super wrong" he said, his voice was younger and a lot more high pitch then you are used to hearing. modern time at least.

this must be some work of a trick or spell.

a spell.

realization hit you. that stupid portal. that angst guy!

that means....

you turned to look now, robin and spoiler were also out, they looked so small. youthful but powerful. out of the two of the two of them, Steph looks the most shocked

spoiler..

shit.

"shit, shit. no. noo!" you cursed under your breath.

your hand instinctively touched your round belly, this is real.

you were Infront of your husband and his family. years into the past before you and Tim had gotten together.

it was not going to be fun explain and reliving this.

batman took a step forward and you took one back, keeping the distance.

" i i- can explain" you blurted out, hands up in the air.

he stopped to listen carefully.

" im kind of from the future"

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

you did not think about where you ran. you did not think at all — only that you needed to get away from there, far from the darkness, from someone else’s breathing above your bed. and only when you burst into his chambers, when the door slammed against the wall with a dull thud, you suddenly realized: you did not come to your brother, not even to your father. you came to him.

maybe deep down you always knew the thing your mind refused to believe: that aerion would kill anyone in the world and die himself if it meant you were safe.

he jumped out of bed in an instant — sleepy, disheveled, in only a shirt, but already on his feet, already ready. his eyes found you immediately, and all the sleep vanished from them in a moment, replaced with worry. “what happened?” his voice sounded low and rough with sleep.

you tried to speak, but the words stuck somewhere in your throat — you only caught air with your mouth, swallowed, tried again. “there… there was someone… i saw… he had a blade…” you forced out broken pieces of words that drowned in all your fear.

you shook your head, unable to continue, and he crossed the distance in two steps, took your face into his hands — firm, but careful, making you lift your eyes. “hey,” he said quietly, and his voice suddenly turned soft, almost gentle. “i am here. you are safe.”

you shook your head again — and tears flooded your cheeks once more, and the trembling returned, and you could not stop it, could not force yourself to calm down, because that silhouette with a blade in its hand still stood before your eyes.

“i woke up because i felt someone else’s presence,” you breathed out, almost in a whisper, and your voice cracked. “and when i opened my eyes — i saw him. he stood over me, aerion. with a knife. i do not know who it was, but he wanted… he wanted to kill me—”

he frowned so hard that a deep line appeared between his brows, and his eyes darkened, turned cold and dangerous like ice. "where the fuck were the guards? whoever he is, i will fucking kill him.”

he let go of your face and stepped back — toward the door, toward the sword, toward murder. and you grabbed his hand sharply, almost desperately. “no,” you breathed out, and there was such pleading in your voice that he froze in place. “do not leave. please. stay with me.”

he stood still for a moment — looked at you, at your face wet with tears, at your hand trembling in his, and his expression softened. the look he showed only to you and only when nobody saw. “come here,” he said quietly and pulled you toward him.

you fell into his arms, pressed your nose against his chest, breathed in his scent and felt his arms wrap around you. one rested on your back and slowly, heavily stroked it — from top to bottom, again and again, chasing away fear with every touch. the other rested on the back of your head, fingers buried themselves in your tangled hair, played with the strands, soothed you.

he rested his chin on the top of your head, and you felt him breathe — steady, deep, and that rhythm slowly became yours, pushing the panic away.

you still trembled — in your thin nightgown, in the fear that refused to leave completely — but with every touch from him, the trembling weakened. his lips touched your temple — slowly, gently, as if he sealed your pain away with that kiss — and stayed there for a long, long time. then he brushed his lips lower — over your cheek, your cheekbone, where the trails of tears still glistened — kissed them and wiped them away. and finally — the corner of your lips. he froze there, feeling you relax, feeling the last tension leave you, feeling your body stop trembling and trustingly melt against him, surrendering to the warmth.

“nobody will touch you,” he whispered against your skin. “let them just fucking try.” you sobbed one last time — quietly, with relief, letting the last pieces of fear leave with that sound.

“i was so scared,” you said, and your voice sounded muffled because you still did not lift your head, still hid your face against his chest. “i do not want to go back there. i do not want to sleep alone.”

he held you tighter. “you will not go back there,” he said. “and you will not sleep alone. you will sleep with me.”

you lifted your head, rested your chin against his chest, and looked up at him with wet, shining eyes. “aerion,” you whispered. “if father finds out…”

he leaned down and kissed you — soft and quick, without deepening it. enough to stop your words and your doubts. “he will not,” he said, pulling away only enough to see your eyes. “and if he does — we are soon to be betrothed. i think i have the right to sleep beside you.”

you looked at him for a long time — at his face, at his eyes where there was no usual mockery, only quiet, tired tenderness — and finally nodded. “fine."

“fine,” he repeated and led you toward the bed, never letting go of you for even a second, one hand holding your waist as if he feared you would disappear.

he laid you down on the bed, covered you with a blanket — thick, warm, smelling like him — and you felt warmth spread through your body, driving away the last remains of cold and fear. and then he simply looked at you — for so long that you started to feel shy.

“stop looking at me like that,” you mumbled quietly.

he smirked. “it is not every day you see a princess in your bed.”

you rolled your eyes — but smiled, and for the first time that night the smile came easily. then you reached your arms toward him, and he did not make you wait, settling beside you. he covered both of you with one blanket, pulled you close, and you felt him breathe, felt his heartbeat — steady, strong, calming. his nose buried in your hair, his hand found your waist on its own, and his thumb started drawing slow circles against your skin — again and again, lulling you to sleep, taking away the last scraps of anxiety.

and your fingers wandered across his chest, tracing patterns even you did not know the names of — simply moving back and forth, feeling the warmth of his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt, and it felt so familiar, so right, as if you had done this your whole lives. “i thought i was going to die,” you said quietly into the silence.

his hand stopped for a moment — and immediately held you tighter, almost painfully. you stayed silent for several heartbeats, feeling the knot in your throat finally melt away.

“the only thing i thought about,” you said even quieter, “was that i didn't have time to tell you… didn't have time to say the most important thing.”

his hand froze on your waist. his whole body tensed at once.

you understood that he stayed silent because he did not know how to speak about things like this. aerion always thought feelings were too complicated — he preferred to act instead of explain. he knew that he needed you, knew that he would never give you to anyone else, knew that you were his — and that was always enough for him. why use useless words that might mean nothing when everything already showed itself without them?

but now he stayed silent not because he did not care. but because he was afraid. you felt it in his tense shoulders, in his uneven breathing, in the way his fingers dug into your skin.

you leaned down and kissed his chest — right where his heart beat beneath the skin. loud, fast, frightened. “i know you will never say it,” you whispered into his shirt. “because you think you are above things like that. but i… i love you, aerion. and i always will. i was afraid i would die — and never get the chance to tell you.”

his hands froze where you left them. the chest beneath your cheek barely moved — he held his breath. one second passed. another. a third. you already thought he would not answer, that he would simply pretend he did not hear — the way only he could.

and then — a slow, long exhale. his hand started stroking your back again — heavy, soft, soothing. and he said nothing. but you felt it — he heard you. you closed your eyes. breathed in rhythm with him. almost fell asleep.

and when you already drifted into sleep, when your thoughts turned slow and weightless, you suddenly heard his voice — quiet, rough, almost impossible to hear.

“me too.”

deep in the night, while you slept — and did not feel how he carefully slipped out from beneath the blanket so he would not wake you. through your sleep you only heard his quiet “i will be back soon,” and then the darkness closed around you again.

in the morning the whole castle talked about nothing except the traitor knight who broke into your chambers. they found him dead in the dungeons — people said he died the most vile, most inhuman death these walls had ever seen.

and you sat in his chambers, lying on his bed, and understood. understood that he did not know how to speak beautifully. that his words would never carry the tenderness you read about in old books. but he always spoke through actions — every single time. and you did not need anything else. this was enough for you.

“what?” your voice came out quiet, trembling, almost impossible to hear.

aerion let out a short, bitter laugh and released your hands, which he held crossed against his chest all this time. and you immediately felt the cold, even though a second ago you yourself tried to pull away from his grip.

“now it is your turn to pretend, huh?” his voice sounded low and rough, and he dragged his tongue along the inside of his cheek. he looked at you, and there was no mockery in his eyes — only bitterness, so thick it could choke someone.

“what will you do this time to avoid marrying me? throw yourself off the castle walls? or lie to me again all this time — gain my trust, make me think…” he fell silent for a moment, and his voice turned quieter, heavier. “and then run away to that puppy?”

your heart twisted into a tight knot — painfully, so painfully that it stole your breath. but then anger replaced the pain. how dared he? after all those years when you thought you would die faster from the way your heart hurt than from some illness or accident — how dared he look at you as if you were guilty of everything?

you opened your mouth to answer — but he spoke first. a quiet laugh with not a drop of amusement slipped from his lips.

“tell me one thing,” he leaned closer, and his voice turned smooth, dangerous. “judging by how hard you defend him, did he already shove his coc—”

he did not finish. your hand flew forward before you could think — the sharp slap tore through the silence. every sound disappeared — the noise of the feast beyond the walls, the voices of drunken guests. aerion froze, his head turned to the side, and he did not move. did not turn back. simply stood there, taking the blow.

your voice trembled — from pain, from anger, from thousands of nights you cried into your pillow, and now all of it finally burst out. “it hurt to breathe!” you shouted, and tears streamed down your cheeks, hot like molten metal. “it hurt to breathe from the thought that something could happen to you! never — do you hear me? — never in my life would i say something like that about you. and you… you think i was capable of writing something like that?”

he slowly turned his head, and his eyes met yours. he looked at you — without looking away, without blinking — and you did not know what you saw in his gaze.

you did not stop, because if you stayed silent now — it would tear you apart from the inside. “did you not feel even a drop of respect for me?” your voice cracked, and you did not even try to hide it. “did you really not have even a drop of warmth left to not make up this lie right now? to stop justifying yourself? to stop pretending this is my fault? guilty because you left. because you abandoned me. because you broke my heart, and then i dealt with the consequences alone — all that pain, all that humiliation…”

your voice broke, and tears poured endlessly, and you did not even wipe them away. let him see. let that man see how much suffering he brought you.

he opened his mouth — wanted to say something — and stepped toward you. you flinched back as if his hand was fire, as if he could hurt you with one touch.

his face fell. for a moment something flashed in his eyes —confusion? disbelief? you saw the way he clenched his jaw, the way his shoulders tensed. he did not know what was worse — that you did not even want to stand near him, or that you were afraid he could hurt you.

“i know you never loved me,” you said, and your voice turned quieter, but no lighter. “but making up such a stupid lie just to justify yourself — that is low even for you, aerion.”

you sobbed, closing your eyes, and the tears still slipped through your lashes. it always seemed to you that you cried out every tear in the world — from your mother’s death to the day he left — but somehow new ones still came.

and then you turned around and ran. not walked — ran, grabbing the skirts of your dress with both hands so you would not trip, even though it was pointless — everything blurred before your eyes from tears, and you simply prayed none of the guests walked outside tonight. rumors about your family were the last thing anyone needed now. you did not want the reputation your grandfather and his sons built for years to collapse because you and aerion failed to divide something that never existed. not love, of course. because it never existed.

behind you, fast footsteps echoed. you quickened your pace. aerion was wounded — he could not run at full strength, and you hated yourself for the way your heart still tightened at the thought that every step probably caused him pain. you would give everything you had to every god alive if they granted you the same calm and devoted love for tristan instead. instead of what you felt for a man who was never worthy of you.

you did not look back. you rushed into the castle, made your way through the corridors without stopping for even a second. in your chambers you almost slammed the door shut — it nearly closed completely — but at the last moment his hand slipped through the gap. the door flew open, and he filled the doorway, stepped inside, and shut the door behind him.

you turned to face him, dragged your palm across your cheeks — wiping away tears even though new ones still fell — and lifted your gaze. “i command you to leave the princess’s chambers immediately.”

aerion breathed heavily one of his hands clenched into a fist, the other pressed against his chest, where the wound hid beneath his shirt. you noticed the movement, and something inside you twisted violently — you almost physically forced yourself not to step closer, not to touch him, not to check the wound the way you used to. like back then, near the old wall, when he was just an angry boy with bloody knees, and you were the only one who dared touch him. you were never able to look at his pain calmly. what a bitter joke — he did not feel the same about you.

“i am not going anywhere,” he said, and there was no doubt in his voice.

“as heir to the throne, i stand above you,” you barely raised your voice, but every word fell heavy like stone. “and i tell you—”

"i do not give a fuck about all these. i am not leaving this room until we fucking talk.”

he stepped forward, and you aggressively shook your head, backing away even though the wall was already close and there was nowhere left to go.

“there is nothing to talk about,” you threw back, and your voice trembled, but you could not stop. “feed your lies to someone els—”

he did not let you finish — grabbed your wrist, pressed you against the wall, towered over you, and you smelled blood. apparently his wound reopened when he chased after you, and that thought caused almost physical pain, even though you should not care about him. should not. but you still noticed how the hand pressed to his chest stained dark and sticky.

“i did not lie to you,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “i received that letter.”

you looked up at him — tiredly, so tiredly that you did not even have strength left for anger. “and all those things you said were really written there?”

he stared directly at you, without looking away. “every single word,” he said, and then smirked — bitterly, looked away to the side and added as if spitting the words out. “ah, yes, and ten more lines. about how you regretted the gods ever bringing us together. about how all those septas and all those people were right — calling me mad and saying i belonged in exile. about how slitting your own throat would be less humiliating than becoming my wife and carrying my heir beneath your heart.”

he looked at you again, and there was such emptiness in his eyes that it stole your breath away. “detailed enough?”

your lips parted more and more with every word he said, and you shook your head sharply, unable to believe it. he tried to hide it, but you saw it — saw the pain and hurt he hid behind that smirk. and the sight of it made your heart tighten so painfully that breathing became difficult.

“i did not…” you started, but he did not let you finish.

“and you know what?” he leaned closer, and something new appeared in his voice — almost desperate. “after all those words about me — i still want you more than anything.”

“i would never…” you tried again, but once more he interrupted you with a bitter, joyless smirk.

“me and your knight are on the same level now, huh? what makes me different from that dog?”

“you are not different from a dog?!” the words burst out of you — loud, almost a scream, and they spilled from your mouth on their own, without thought, without restraint.

he fell silent immediately, he breathed heavily, his chest rising and falling hard, and right now he did not look angry or arrogant — he looked empty. you had never seen him like this.

but you did not stop yourself anymore — you could not, did not want to. “i was the pathetic fool who believed i meant something to you!” your voice cracked, and you no longer tried to hide that you cried — tears streamed down your cheeks, and you did not care. “i wrote that letter after i spent an entire week begging father to speak with you! to give you a chance!”

you looked at him — at his confused, tense face — and continued. “do you want to know what i wrote to you? instead of all that filth you just repeated?”

you stepped closer yourself — one step, then another — and pressed your finger against his chest, right where his heart beat beneath the fabric.

“i wrote that father wanted you to prove to everyone else that your intentions were serious. that if you waited for the right moment to announce the wedding — then you should stand before everyone like a man. that if your feelings for me were pure and you loved me, then he would give you his blessing, and we would be married within two moons.”

you pulled your finger away as if burned. “that is what i sent, aerion. not whatever madness you imagined instead.”

he looked at you, and you saw the way he frowned — heavily, slowly, as if he tried to swallow every word you said, but they stuck in his throat like a stone.

you sniffled, and the sound came from somewhere deep inside — from that little girl who sat beside her mother’s bed and did not understand why she would not wake up, while valarr stood behind her and tried to stay strong for both of you. you felt like that same helpless, crushed little fool again.

“i talked nana’s ears off since morning,” you continued, and your voice turned quieter, but heavier. “i told the servants to prepare the best dress. the jewels — the ones mother used to wear.”

you squeezed your eyes shut — the memories pressed down on you, hurt physically, as if someone squeezed your ribs.

“because i wanted to look like your bride,” you breathed out, opening your eyes. “we talked about it for so long, and i wanted that day to be memorable. i wanted you to think i was the most beautiful woman alive. do you know how happy nana was? how she said she would tell our story to our children?”

his face changed — his brows pulled together, his lips parted slightly. he looked at you as if you spoke in a language he did not understand, as if he heard all of this for the first time. he did not take his eyes off you for even a second.

but you did not let him say a word — you sobbed again, unable to stop the trembling in your voice, and you noticed the way he twitched automatically, wanting to step closer, but you immediately stepped back, and he froze in place, not daring to follow you.

you slowly shook your head, and your hand grabbed at your heart so tightly it felt like you could tear the fabric of your dress apart. “i stood in the rain and waited for you,” you said, and your voice broke into a whisper. “i stood in that cold garden for three hours. my dress soaked through completely, my hair came undone, i could not feel my fingers anymore. i thought i would die from the cold, but i did not leave — because you promised. you promised you would come.”

you squeezed your eyes shut — and suddenly that night stood before you again, the cold garden, the empty benches, and you alone, small, worthless, waiting for the earth to split open and swallow you whole.

“then i heard footsteps,” you continued, and your voice trembled. “and do you know something, aerion? i was so happy. i could barely stand, but it was enough that you came.”

you opened your eyes and looked directly at him. “it was tristan.”

his body tensed immediately — his jaw clenched, muscles moved beneath his skin, and you knew that even hearing that man’s name infuriated him. but it was not aerion who stayed with you that night. not him who covered you with his cloak. not him who took responsibility for explaining everything to the royal family while the servants led you back to your chambers and forced hot bath.

you struggled to breathe — the air disappeared, your lungs burned, and it felt like you would collapse right there at his feet. “that was when i understood,” you breathed out. “that you were not coming. and then tristan told me…”

you could not finish. your voice broke, you shook your head, covered your face with your hands, and your shoulders trembled with silent sobs.

this time he did not stay still. he approached quickly, soundlessly, towered over you and pulled your hands away from your face. carefully, almost gently. “what did he tell you?”

you shook your head, tried to pull away from his hands, to move back. “it does not matter, aerion,” you whispered, and your voice cracked. “none of this matters anymore.”

“what the fuck did that dog tell you?” he repeated, and there was steel in his voice, bordering on desperation.

you stopped resisting. lifted your gaze to him — swollen, red, with wet lashes clumped together from tears. and you spoke — quietly, almost soundlessly, but every word felt like another step into nothingness.

“he said people saw you leaving a brothel.”

you did not hold back anymore — tears poured endlessly down your face, and you no longer wiped them away, no longer tried to seem strong, because you had no strength left at all. for anything. “while i stood beneath the pouring rain and froze, while i breathed onto my numb fingers and shook from the cold, you… you chose that easy pleasure instead…”

he shook his head sharply, almost violently, and tried to catch your gaze, but you saw nothing, heard nothing except your own voice tearing the silence apart.

“i was always beside you, aerion. there was nobody i loved more than you. nobody. and on the day when you were supposed to tell the entire kingdom that you loved me… you chose them. you chose these women instead of me.”

you sniffled, your chest heaving, and you almost choked on your own sobs.

“no,” he said, and his voice sounded dull, desperate. “i nev—”

but you did not hear him. you stopped hearing him completely.

“all this time, while i believed you felt at least something for me, at least something small that looked like love… you went there and…”

he stepped closer — right against you, took your hands and pinned them to the wall on either side of your head, leaned so close that his breath mixed with yours.

“i was never there,” he said, and there was no steel in his voice now, no anger, but something else you never heard from him before. pleading. “i swear on my dead mother, i was not there. how could i even do that?”

you froze. because he never joked when it came to his mother. never. you lifted your eyes to him and saw his face — confused, pleading, more open than ever before. he looked at you as if you were his last hope.

“i was not in a brothel or anywhere else,” he continued, and the words rushed out quickly, unevenly, as if he feared you would stop listening. “i swear. i got that letter, got angry, and left immediately. i could not even think straight after that wretch handed me the lett—”

he stopped in the middle of the sentence. you saw the way his eyes scanned your face, and with every second something new appeared in them — understanding, heavy and cold. his brows pulled together tighter, deeper.

you were not foolish children. both of you understood in the same second.

there was only one person who needed all of this to happen. the one who could easily switch your letter — you studied under the same septa, even if he was often absent because of his duties. the only person besides aerion and your family whom you trusted completely, without ever asking for proof.

and he used that trust.

something cruel and dark appeared on aerion’s face, and his voice turned low, almost into a whisper. “i will kill him. he will die the most painful and shameful death.”

he pushed himself away from the wall, turned around, and you grabbed his forearm sharply, with the last of your strength. he turned back to you, looked down at you, and that cold fury still burned in his eyes.

“don't,” you said.

“are you still protecting him?”

you stayed silent. because you knew his words were not empty threats. if he wanted to kill tristan, he would do it. right now. and maybe somewhere deep inside you wanted the same thing. but tristan was your friend, your brother, your support. the person who stayed beside you when nobody else did. and your heart still could not believe that he spent all those years saving you from pain he created himself.

so you said the thing that would work. you knew it was not a lie — just not the whole truth. “can you stay with me?”

he looked at you for a long, long time — and you saw the rage fighting with something else inside him — he knew exactly what you were doing. knew you distracted him, bought time, saved someone who maybe did not deserve saving.

but he was too tired. or maybe he always allowed you too much. either way, he let out a deep painful breath and then sharply pulled you closer.

his lips crashed against yours — not softly, not gently. there was nothing careful in this kiss.

he pulled you by the waist so suddenly that you cried out against his mouth, but the sound drowned in his silent groan. your hands slid over his chest on their own, wrapped around his neck, fingers buried themselves in silver hair — so soft, so familiar, so him.

he bit your lower lip — not painfully and there was so much desperation in the gesture that it stole your breath. using your short gasp, he deepened the kiss, and his tongue pushed into your mouth — greedy, demanding, tasting you as if he wanted to memorize every part of you, every tiny piece.

he kissed you as if he wanted to devour you whole, swallow you completely so you would always stay inside him, beneath his skin, in his blood, where nobody could ever take you away. and you answered him the same way — pressed yourself against him, tugged at his hair, bit his lower lip, and he groaned, low and rough, and there was so much desperation in that sound that it made your chest tighten.

“finally,” he breathed directly against your lips, and his voice cracked, and you felt his smile — too unexpected and too rare.

he pulled away from your lips — but not from you, his mouth started wandering across your face, covering it with small, lingering kisses: your temple, your cheekbone, the corner of your lips, your eyelids that you already squeezed shut.

“how could i ever want anyone else,” he kissed one cheek, then the other, “when you are the only thing i have ever needed?"

you only breathed out quietly, melted against him, because you no longer felt that heavy guilt that suffocated you for years every time you thought about him. the pain of all those years did not disappear — it stayed there, beneath your skin, in your memories, in those nights. you did not know if you would ever forgive him, if you'd forget. but right now, while he kissed your face and held you as if you could disappear, you thought maybe you could think about that tomorrow.

he was never a master of tender words. but now — it seemed even this stubborn, unbearable man could not hold himself back anymore.

he lifted his hands, brushed your hair back, exposing your forehead, and kissed it for a long time — simply stood there with his lips against your skin, breathing in your scent as if he would not survive a single day without it.

“never,” a kiss to your cheek, “nobody,” a kiss to your nose, “was or ever will be worth more than you. i realized that after you started coming to my training sessions.”

you stayed silent for a long time, simply pressed against him, feeling his heart beat in rhythm with yours. then you hummed quietly, lazily, hiding your smile. “actually, that was my reading spot long before your training sessions.”

he smirked — softly, without any sharpness — and kissed your temple. “whatever you say, my love.”

he held you tighter, and you stood there for a long time, you felt his fingers stroke your back — slowly, soothingly, felt the way he breathed — steady, deep, pulling you into himself.

you pulled back just a little to look at him, and he immediately resisted, pulling you close again. you did not want to ruin this moment — the one where you could finally be with him openly, not in stolen one. but you could not stop yourself from saying it. you could not do this to yourself again.

you lifted your head and met his piercing gaze. in the light of the few candles his eyes looked only at you.

“if you truly love me, you will let tristan win the tourney.”

a/n: i genuinely believe this story needs sad ending. pt5 is in process ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

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"you are too hard on yourself, my princess," nana softly argued. "everyone knows that prince valarr will become king one day, so it is not just about the crown. everyone truly loves you, from the small to the great. to be your husband is a true blessing from the gods."

and it was not flattery. you were the only daughter of prince baelor, the precious jewel of the castle. everyone spoiled you: from the king himself to the simple knights.

the only one in your branch of the family who inherited the classic targaryen look — hair that shined like silver and violet eyes — you combined this beauty with perfect manners and a gentle soul. it was simply impossible not to love you.

that was why, when you told your father that your heart was silent and there was no one you would marry by your own will, prince baelor decided to hold a great tourney. the winner got the greatest prize — your hand.

"and what if some old man wins?" you asked, as you pressed your lips together. you looked at her with fake disgust, but fun sparks danced in your eyes. "i do not think my patience is enough to wait for his natural death."

the maid laughed as she fixed the last pin.

"i am sure prince baelor has everything under control. your father is too wise and mature to let such a thing happen."

"father worries about me too much."

when she finished with the dress, nana carefully fixed your curls. she took a step back and looked at you with clear love. "i never saw anyone more beautiful than you, princess. you were charming as a child, but now… no one in these lands has a chance against your beauty."

a red blush touched your cheeks and you looked away shyly, not knowing where to go from such honest praise. this woman was with you since you were in swaddling clothes, she practically raised you and became a second mother and the most loyal friend.

"you are too generous with compliments," you said quietly.

you smoothed the dress once more, checking it, and said so low it was like you spoke to the heavens.

"i hope the gods send me a reliable husband. one who protects me and stays loyal. one who i can answer the same way."

you did not say love on purpose. there was only one man in your life who you loved with all your heart — and you were sure he would never be your husband.

the tourney field was noisy and bright: tents of noble houses stood everywhere, and flags waved in the wind above them. the air filled with the smells of roasted meat, dust, and grass heated by the sun.

you walked over the flattened grass and felt hundreds of looks on you. the dancers smiled kindly at you, and young lords and knights, when they saw you approach, gave dramatic bows and shouted compliments after you. you only shook your head with a forgiving smile and headed to the stands, where your brother already sat in the shade.

valarr watched the lords on the field closely, but as soon as you came near, his look warmed instantly. he looked over you with love and smiled gently. "it seems the number of participants will double or even triple today," valarr said, as he nodded at the crowd of knights. "spare the poor men, little sister, do not make them go to their death even more willingly."

you rolled your eyes dramatically as you sat down next to him. "it is not my fault that men are stupid enough to risk their lives for a woman they do not really know."

he raised an eyebrow merrily and, he could not stop himself, jokingly pinched your cheek. "a lady does not speak this way."

you caught his hand with a giggle and easily pushed it away.

he became silent and watched you for a moment, and then his tone became unusually serious. "special guests arrived today," he said quietly.

"who can be so special?" you asked, and your eyebrows rose in surprise.

valarr hesitated, as if he thought about whether he should tell the truth right now. he even opened his mouth to say something, but then he changed his mind. "you'll see soon."

however, soon your indifference changed into a dull anxiety. you could not look at it.

there was so much blood on the grass that a bitter lump rose in your throat. the whistle of blades cut the air, and the screams of the excited crowd mixed with the painful moans of the wounded.

men maimed each other for a ghost of a chance to one day touch the throne and get a sweet body in their bed.

of course, you saw tourneys before. but those were for glory, for fun, or to protect honor. and this? this looked like hell.

another knight fell to the grass, the blade of his rival went deep into his thigh. he moaned and screamed as he admitted defeat, but the winner had no time to enjoy his triumph — a sharp, loud sound of a bell cut the air. a cloud of dust rose over the field, and a cavalcade of riders appeared.

you froze when the flag of your own house flashed among the banners. your heart skipped a beat, and nausea rose in your throat.

the herald, whose voice spread over the quiet crowd, announced:

“welcome! the second son of the king, brother of prince baelor — prince maekar targaryen and his sons!”

this could not be true.

they did not step into your castle for many years. why did they show up now, at the very beginning, when only low-born knights and lords from poor houses fought on the field?

you turned your head sharply to valarr. his jaw was tight, and his look was fixed on the guests. he already stood up with father, as he prepared to meet the kin.

and then you noticed him.

aerion sat on his horse just as confident and easy as before. a familiar arrogant smirk played on his face, and his look showed such disdain, as if no one around deserved even a bit of his attention.

your heart pounded so hard that it became painful to breathe.

you did not see him for several years, and in this time he changed. the youth's softness disappeared and gave place to predatory, sharp features of the face.

he became broader in the shoulders, larger and more powerful — the result of grueling training that he, as you remembered, never missed. something dangerous, masculine, and scary appeared in his look. only his hair stayed the same — silver and always messy.

a memory hit you in the gut like a sharp blade.

you stood between his open legs while he sat on the edge of the bed, still hot after another fight with his father. you softly brushed his tangled locks and tried to calm his anger with your touches.

"do not be so angry with him," you whispered. "he just worries about his son."

he always came to your chambers right away, no matter what happened — a fight with his father, a bad day, or to brag that he beat daeron in training once again.

"and what happens if i go to a real tourney like a real man?" he growled, as he put his fingers in his hair again and destroyed your work. "dragons fear nothing!"

you hit his hand lightly and grumbled. "hey, i just brushed them! do not dare to ruin it."

he just rolled his eyes and snorted that he "is not a bloody cat to be brushed," but he obediently moved his hand and let you brush them when they become too messy. only you.

the sharp roar of the crowd pulled you from your memory and brought you back to cruel reality.

you knew your duty: you had to stand up, go down after your father, and let your cousins press a respectful kiss on your palm.

the thought of his lips touching your skin made you feel sick.

aerion's look wandered feverishly over the stands. he searched for someone until his eyes met yours. he looked at you for a long time, even from far away, you saw how he studied your face, focused on every feature, then moved from your hair to your dress.

for a short moment, something flashed in his pupils that you could not solve even up close, but the mask of indifference returned instantly. his lips curved into a predatory, triumphant smirk, and dangerous sparks shined in his eyes.

he was so familiar and at the same time a total stranger.

you looked at each other, separated by space and unspoken tension, until you broke the contact first and raised your chin.

you turned your head, gave a short nod to your father and brother, and turned around. you headed deep into the castle with your head held high, and you felt how his gaze literally burned your back.

you would never shed another tear because of him again.

you just started to take off your heavy gold bracelets when a knight entered the rooms. he bowed his head and told you that your father waited for you. you gave a quiet sigh and nodded: you could not hide from the inevitable.

you understood well that he wanted to discuss your behavior — how you left the stands in such a way, without even greeting your own blood.

but, to be honest, you did not care. father never knew how to be truly angry with you. you were his treasure, his favorite, and the most you risked was a soft rebuke for being too rude.

however, you simply could not do it any other way.

not when he was on the field.

even a passing shadow of his name in your thoughts caused such sharp pain, as if a hundred hot needles stabbed your heart at once.

aerion targaryen.

your cousin and only childhood friend, the man who once patiently taught you how to grip a knife handle and shoot a bow.

your first, most honest and only love.

and he was also the one who broke your heart into pieces, trampled it, and then calmly walked over the sharp shards without even looking back.

he became the man who clearly showed you what a naive and lovelorn fool you were, as you blindly believed his promises.

you outgrew these feelings long ago. the pain still lived somewhere deep inside, as a reminder, but not a trace remained of that bright, pure devotion. love burned and left only the bitter dust of hate in the very moment when he betrayed you.

behind your back stayed endless sleepless nights, full of tears and a silent question: what did you do to deserve such treatment? how did it happen that you meant nothing to him? but those tears hardened you, made you stronger and colder.

if aerion hoped to see the same little girl with an open heart and endless love — he was deeply mistaken.

you held your head high as you looked at your reflection for the last time. the dress of deep dark-red color wrapped around your legs in heavy folds, and the jewels on the bodice shimmered with every breath. your hair — a complex, thick braid that the maid worked on since dawn — still stayed perfect, and only a couple of silver strands broke loose near your face.

you were the first granddaughter of the great king, a princess of house targaryen and the favorite of all the people, and you did not plan to let anyone think you were less than you were.

when you left the chambers, you gave the knight at the door a quick, soft smile and followed the familiar halls to your father.

you knew every turn of this castle, every tapestry on the wall, but when you turned into the gallery that led to the rooms of the prince, your step slowed down against your will.

there, leaning against a stone pillar, stood the one you did not expect to meet so soon.

aerion.

his posture carried that same unbearable confidence and greatness you remembered since childhood.

his look slowly slid over you, as he carefully studied every detail of your image, and then a light smirk appeared on his face. "hello, cousin."

you did not even look at him, continuing to walk, intending to pass by. you had neither the time nor the desire to take part in his games.

however, as you came level with him, he suddenly leaned forward, trying to catch your hand. his fingers almost touched your skin, but you reacted instantly, calmly and quickly pulling your hand away.

“do not touch me.”

aerion stared at your face for a while, then, with his usual smirk, he pulled his hand away.

“you would not even greet me? how rude.”

"i have no time for you," you cut him off as you tried to walk past.

“that is exactly why you were rushing to your father?” he huffed, not falling behind a single step. "it is good to know that knights today are so easy to bribe."

this made you stop for a moment, and you turned around and looked at him with disdain. "it seems this is the only thing you are truly good at."

aerion slowly closed the distance between you. he loomed over you and leaned to your very ear, so you felt the heat of his breath. "you did not mind any of this, when we were children."

you slowly raised your look to him and smiled a bright smile with mockery. "what luck that we are not children anymore."

he became silent, just watching you. his look became heavy and greedy — it seemed he could not get enough of your emotions and your face, which he saw for the first time in so many years of separation.

"you did not change at all," he said quietly, as if he reached some inner conclusion.

"praise the gods that i cannot say the same about you."

you turned around and were already about to go back to your room when his voice, full of poison, made you flinch again.

"how is your little knight? is he still a crybaby, who is not able to do anything except hide behind his mother's cunt?"

you only rolled your eyes, as you remembered how he was always jealous of tristan when you were little. he said back then that tristan looked at you with more than friendly eyes and that he would kill him if he even tried to touch you.

it seemed this did not leave him even after three years.

"you do not even ask why i am here?"

you ignored him and walked further down the hall. you already imagined how you would take off this heavy dress and finally sink into your nightgown, as you washed away this whole day.

"i am in the tourney."

this made you freeze in place.

"you are lying," you breathed out, without turning around. your voice shook a little, but you quickly pulled yourself together. "father would never allow you to take a part."

you felt him come closer — so close that you felt the heat from him against your back. the air between you seemed to fill with electricity.

"he already did," he answered quietly right above your ear.

you turned around sharply. aerion stood too close, and now, face to face, you saw everything that the distance hid: small scratches on his forehead, a fresh wound on his cheek, and an old scar across his eyebrow. it was all so painfully familiar, as if these long years of separation did not pass at all. for a moment it seemed to you that the same boy stood before you, who once whispered promises to you and covered your face with kisses.

but you knew the truth. and this truth was much more bitter than your memories.

you narrowed your eyes and looked down at him, despite the difference in height.

"you think you are the best, do you not? you think every thing is a game that you must try?"

it seemed some memories hit him too, as he watched you and did not take his eyes off yours. his lips curved into a smirk as usual, but something shook deep in his pupils.

"i do not understand what you mean, cousin."

"you know well why this tourney was held," you hissed.

"i know. that is why i am here and i intend to succeed."

the absurdity of it all was so great that you could not stand it and gave a short, angry laugh. “and you do not even consider that you might die just because you grew bored?”

now this made him laugh — openly, merrily, with that same unbearable mockery that was always his armor.

“i will not die. i know that, because i will not allow any of those wretches to come even a step closer to you, let alone touch you.”

“i will never marry you.”

“you will,” he said, slowly closing the distance as your back met the wall. “you will, if i win this tournament.”

he leaned in even closer, until your noses almost touched, and a dangerous, victorious fire lit up in his eyes.

“and i will win, my little dragon.”

part 2 is in process! ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 𖾕𖾝꙼ᩚ𛲕𖾟 masterlists.

Ser Duncan had always known that princes were strange.

That, at least, was something he’d made peace with.

They were born strange, raised strange, and lived their lives in a world that did not much resemble the one the rest of them walked in. They spoke in courtesies that meant threats and in threats that meant nothing at all. They smiled when they were angry and grew angry when there was no cause he could see.

Still, he thought he understood them well enough—he’d been wrong all along.

He knows he is wrong because there he is, seated at a crystal big table amidst the gorgeous midday sun-drenched gardens of the Red Keep, ogling like a big oaf at Prince Aerion Targaryen—no, not at him, but at the lady sitting by his side, near the head of the table.

She is laughing, that is the first thing he is struck by. A melodious, gentle sound, like sweet honey. And then, the second thing that hits him is the sight of Aerion laughing with her as well, very quietly, with his head tilted towards her.

Hearing him laugh with genuine joy must be the most unnatural and eerie sound Duncan has ever heard.

Her hand rests casually on Aerion's forearm, intimately and so naturally, as if that's where it belongs. As if it's always belonged to touch him.

Dunk frowns and then he frowns even harder as his thoughts stumbled over themselves.

He keeps watching as she says something else—he can't hear what—and Aerion gives a slight tilt of his head, not in a scornful way, but in an expression of attention and delight.

Of course, Dunk has seen you before. You are no stranger to the Red Keep. You address the guards by name, thank the servants when they bring you things or offer assistance. Once, you even had smiled at Dunk himself, and he nearly tripped over his own feet when you did.

You are kind, gentle, and sweet. Everything Aerion is not, so Dunk naturally kept assuming you must be some cousin or sister or relative to the royal family.

Dunk just sits there, taller and clumsier than usual, and definitely feeling like a fish out of water among the majority of the Targaryens. He fiddles with his fingers in front of him, like that might stop him from saying something stupid, but it's already too late.

Next to him, Prince Aegon devours a fig with an expression of utter indulgentment; they went through this phase of confusion weeks ago and now seems to find it a source of amusement.

“Is something wrong, Ser?” asks Egg, his mouth partially full. “You’ve got that look on your face again.”

Dunk doesn't respond immediately. His eyes remain locked on the other side of the table, where the shade of the vines reaches upon you and your husband.

Aerion, who usually looks at everyone as if they were insects beneath his boot, is doing the most horrifying act: he is peeling an orange with the greatest of care. In one perfect spiral, he strips the peel and offers it to you along with a faint smile.

“She's Prince Baelor's daughter, right?,” Dunk asks cautiously, leaning toward Egg as far as he can without falling over. “A niece. Or maybe a distant cousin whom Aerion has kindly decided not to terrorize today for reasons of royal courtesy.”

Egg chokes a little on the piece of fig and bursts out in a dry laugh, which sounds more like a little bark. “My Uncle Baelor's daughter? Oh, Ser—”

At that very moment, your laughter fills the air at something Aerion whispers in your ear. The Prince allows himself another smile; not one of those malicious grimaces that Dunk knows so well, but a genuine, gentle one.

You place a hand on his cheek, caressing the edge of his jaw with a tenderness that makes Duncan's stomach churn with unbridled astonishment and revulsion.

“Come on, Ser, let's go meet her!” Egg suppresses a mischievous grin as he tugs on the sleeve of his tall friend's doublet, urging him to stand up as well. “I can see you like her. Let me introduce you, then.”

Dunk lets himself be led along, trying to remember every lesson in courtesy he never really learned, and as they reach the table, Aerion lifts his gaze. His eyes narrow with that characteristic coldness as he recognizes the knight, and all his gentle, carefree demeanor from mere seconds ago seems to vanish when he lays sight on Duncan.

“Ser Duncan,” Aerion drawls the name, his voice reverting to that harsh, extremely contemptuous intonation. “What a surprise. I didn’t know you were coming. It seems you're encroaching on my family's privacy a little more each day—”

“Prince Aerion,” Dunk greets him back dismissively, disregarding what the prince is saying to him, and not even bothering to listen to his passive-aggressive nonsense, since he is too concerned on gazing in awe at you. “My lady.”

“It's a pleasure to have you here.” You flash him a cheerful smile, glancing sideways to see Aerion's plump lips gaping in shock and offense at your side. “Ser...”

You pause for him to introduce himself, and he rushes to do so, inclining his head once more.

“Duncan, my lady,” the tall knight pronounces his name with more trepidation than pride. “At your service.”

Aerion frowns, his eyes squinting with growing annoyance. “Your service? What—”

“You are very kind, Ser Duncan,” you interrupt your prince, struggling to stifle a giggle at his expression of pure bewilderment. “Thank you for taking such good care of Aegon.”

“You don't have to thank me at all, my lady,” Dunk replies, his voice coming out softer. “Looking after Egg—Prince Aegon, is truly an honor. And seeing you here, being so patient... well, it just confirms what everyone at court says.”

You tilt your head curiously, as Aerion stares at him with cautious defiance.

“Oh? And what do they say, Ser Duncan?” you ask with a twinkle of amusement in your eyes.

“That you have a noble soul,” Duncan states with complete conviction, nodding to himself. “One can tell in a heartbeat that you are Prince Baelor's daughter”

And he carries on, even when Egg sneaks a kick to his shin, and the whole dining table drops silent, with everyone turning to look at him with expressions of either bafflement or disgust—in Maekar's case.

“He must be immensely proud to have such a kind and compassionate daughter. Only someone with his blood could have the strength to...“ His blue eyes glance at Aerion with barely concealed distaste, “Well, to spend the entire day entertaining your cousin Aerion and still keep a smile on your face. You are an exemplary cousin, my lady.”

Egg muffles out a strangled laugh and has to cover his mouth with both hands to keep from spitting it out.

Aerion, for his part, is not amused and remains petrified beside you. His lips part, uttering a gasp of outrage, and his violet eyes gleam with a fury that promises a death of agony.

“Daughter?” Aerion hisses, his voice rattling like a viper’s threat. “Did you call her my uncle Baelor’s daughter? And my cousin?”

You blink, glancing first at your husband, whose face is flushing through various hues of red, and then at the tall knight standing in front of you, who is frowning in innocent confusion.

“Ser Duncan...” you begin, trying to maintain your composure as the situation descends into absurdity. “I’m afraid your compass for kinship is a little... misguided.”

“Misgui—what?” babbles Dunk, batting his eyelashes as slowly as an ox that has just been struck on the snout.

Before your husband or you can answer, a soft, vibrant laugh comes from the head of the table. Prince Baelor is leaning back in his chair, attentive to the unfolding scene before him, in his usual courteous silence. His eyes now sparkle with genuine amusement.

“Gods be good, Ser Duncan,” says the King's Hand, his fingers absentmindedly twirling the wine glass he holds in his hand. “I appreciate your loyalty and your high regard for my character, but I fear you are attributing merits to me that I do not possess.”

“Prince Baelor is my uncle-in-law, by marriage, not by blood, Ser Duncan.” you clarify, reaching out to Aerion’s hand, that had been resting on your lap the moment Duncan had arrived at your side. “I am Aerion’s wife, not cousin.”

“W–wife?” Dunk repeats, his voice breaking with disbelief. “Aerion's? But, my lady, you're kind and beautiful and—”

“For five years, you bloody twit!” Aerion explodes, springing up from his seat now in defense of your honor and his own as well. The chair scrapes violently against the floor. “She’s been my wife for five years! My wife!”

You quickly rise to your feet as well, standing between your husband's fit of fury and Dunk's monumental state of embarrassment.

The difference in height is almost laughable: you attempting to calm a fuming Aerion, with Duncan looming over you both, appearing to wish the ground would open up and swallow him now that he has finally realized the mistake he has just made.

You bite your lower lip, battling to keep from laughing, knowing that would only further wound Aerion's pride.

“Calm down, my love,” you coax him gently, pressing both hands on his chest to push him back a step away from Duncan. “I’m sure Ser Duncan meant no harm.” “He called you my cousin!” Aerion retorts, his burning gaze finally dropping from Dunk and focusing on you, relenting at the way you’re gazing at him, fearful of his anger.

His hands immediately curl around your waist, drawing you closer to him reassuringly and further away from the hapless hedge knight.

Dunk is as red as a tomato and his ears are turning crimson.

“Oh fuck— I'm sorry... I'm so sorry, my prince, my lady,” he blurts out, bowing his head apologetically over and over. “I didn't mean to... it's just that she's such a good person, and you're... well, you're...” His voice trails off the instant Egg kicks him again, without even trying to be subtle about it this time. “A thousand apologies to both of you for my clumsiness. Five years... Seven Hells, five years—”

“Cease your stammering, you simpleton!” a sharp voice growls from the other end of the table. “Have you no sense at all in that thick skull of yours?”

Prince Maekar is looking at Dunk with his characteristic loathing, there is a hint of fatigue in his eyes, as if being surrounded by such a load of idiocy is costing him years of his life.

“You've caused enough of a commotion with your lack of brains, Ser,” Maekar went on, glaring at his son Aerion to shut him up as well. “Sit down and keep your mouth shut before I decide that your penance for being a dimwit should be spending the rest of lunch standing next to the horses!”

Baelor breathes out another quiet snicker at his younger brother's interruption, visibly enjoying his nephew's humiliation.

Dunk straightens up at once, rigid as a plank, still pleading for your forgiveness under his shaky breath.

“There's no need to apologize, Ser Duncan,” you try to soothe him, leaning against your husband's chest.

Clinging to your body, Aerion glares at him with hateful, menacing eyes. “I won't forget this.”

“Aerion,” you call out in disapproval, pulling yourself back in his arms so you can face him, but he just keeps eyeing Duncan, who finally stumbles away from you two and back to his seat at the table.

You seize the moment to gently tug at your husban's hand, forcing him to sit back down as well. And he lets himself fall into the chair, still holding you in his arms, and pulling you onto his lap. And you let out a light, melodic laugh as he does, twisting a little in his arms to nuzzle your nose against his affectionately.

The garden eventually settles back into its rhythmic hum of clinking silverware and low conversation. The initial shock of Dunk’s blunder lingers only in the faint, lingering flush on his face as he focuses entirely on his plate, determined not to breathe in the wrong direction.

Aerion doesn't let you go. Even as he resumes eating with his free hand, his other arm remains firmly wrapped around your waist, his thumb tracing idle, possessive circles against over the fabric of your dress. He leans his head against yours appreciatively.

“He thought we were cousins even when we treated each other like this,” Aerion whispers into your ear after taking a bite of his slice of strawberry cake, his words still laced with indignation, although you can taste the sweetness of the pastry in his breath. “How could anyone be so—”

“Oh, hush,” you whisper, your eyes gazing at his with amusement and then you pick up the small silver spoon from the edge of his plate, scooping up a generous portion of the creamy pastry. “Now, stop pouting, my love. Open up for me.”

Aerion’s obeys you, naturally, leaning forward to take the sweet offering from your hand. He chews slowly, his violet softening eyes never leaving your face.

“Is it good?” you ask softly, wiping a tiny stray bit of cream from the corner of his mouth with your thumb and sucking on it to taste the flavor yourself.

“It’s tolerable,” Aerion purrs, and then kiss your lips tenderly, his mouth lingers close to yours as he pulls away, flashing you a mischievous look. “Hmm, that is far more delicious...”

While Duncan sits frozen—staring at his plate as if the roast swan might testify against him—the rest of the table barely bats an eye at the scene unfolding at his opposite side over the table.

For the Targaryens, such public displays of affection are a common occurrence, perhaps too common during family gatherings or outings or feasts.

Maekar, though still wearing a permanent scowl, simply reaches for the wine carafe, maneuvering his arm around Aerion’s sprawling form without a word. He’s seen his son go from a bloodthirsty terror to a purring housecat in your presence too many times to count. To Maekar, your lap-sitting and sweet-feeding is a necessary evil—a price he’s willing to pay for a quiet afternoon without Aerion setting something on fire.

“You see, Ser Duncan?” Prince Baelor calls out, his voice smooth and teeming with mirth as he watches you feed Aerion another spoonful of the cake, but loud enough to make the hedge knight jump in his seat. “The Prince is quite manageable when he is well-fed and well-loved. It is a pity we cannot bottle his lady wife’s influence and distribute it among the rest of the Realm.”

Your husband scoffs, though there's no real heat in it as he tries to steal another kiss between your spoonfuls, making you laugh.

Having to be in the presence of this man was somehow more infuriating than listening to your teammates talk about him and how cool and chill he was. He'd never been cool or chill with you! Not in the nine years you'd know him.

Your mother had simply left you there. With a bag and a letter pinned on your top. Hal was running late for work. He hobbled out trying to put his left shoe on. Only to freeze at the sight of a little girl, alone on his doorstep, in the rain.

Looking into your eyes—although red and puffy he'd recognise them from anywhere. How could he forget the shameful mistake he'd made several years ago...

Ever since that unfortunate day, you've been Hal Jordan —the Young Justice team's favourite Green Lantern's problem. For the first few years of your life, you'd been your mother's problem. Most nights you lie awake wishing you'd stayed being her problem. She wasn't perfect, she did abandon you in the rain on the doorstep of a man she hadn't seen in over years, but at least she seemed to have a slight care for you.

Your childhood should've been magical. And sometimes you trick yourself into thinking it was. All those hours you'd spent staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stars on your ceiling, you'd pretend you were outside—in your garden or on some other planet—star gazing with your dad. The galaxy and sci-fi themed decor of your room confused your child mind into believing all those hours spent jumping around your room—alone—with a plastic spaceship in hand, were real galactic adventures with him.

You wish you could say that those days of hopeless wishing were gone, but even now—at your grown age you find yourself staring at the glow-in-the-dark stickers Wally had insisted you needed, wishing that one day maybe those dreams of stargazing could happen. The crinkled posters sitting on your desk waiting to be put up taunt you. Wally found them shoved into a box and told you they were cool. After he'd made fun of you for being such a space nerd. He said they add something to your room. Your room at Mount Justice held a closer resemblance to a safe house rather than a teen girl's bedroom. Maybe it was the underlying desire to leave and never look back. The fear that if you tried to settle, fit in and find your place in this world you would suddenly realise not a single person actually cared for you.

The Young Justice team had already been formed. The JL had decided that you would join the team once you returned from your space oddity. You weren't thrilled to hear the news. You returned from your trip only to be met by your dad—waiting to drop some news on you.

"What?" You asked. Your shoulders were tensed. You were sore and tired and he was the last person you wanted to see right now.

"I've got something to tell you." He frowned a little at your lack of enthusiasm.

"I can tell." You deadpanned.

He sighed. "The Justice League has formed a new team. It consists of their students."

"No."

"What do you mean no?" He squinted.

"I'm not joining your team." He called out your name.

"Your already set to join the team. It'll be good for you."

"Good for me to miss more school than I already am?" Your voice raised.

"You're joining the team! They're expecting us right now." He raised his voice right back.

You scowled, but piped down. Your arms were crossed as you trailed behind him. You glared at him the whole time.

"Behave," Hal gave you a pointed look through the mask.

Your rolled your eyes and continued walking towards the closed doors. There was muffled voices behind the door.

"Please?" Hal pleaded. He opened the doors. Your vision was filled with colourful costumes and stupid smiles.

"Green Lantern, how nice of you to join us." Batman commented sarcastically. He looked to the clock wall. Ten minutes late—they better get used to it with you.

"Sorry, got held up with her mission." Hal laughed.

"These are the members of the League," He gestured to the adults in the room. "And these are your teammates." He gestured to the teens. Most of them sat down.

One of them got up and walked towards you.

"I'm Robin, team leader." He reached his hand out to shake.

You stared at his hand for a moment before feeling a nudge beside you. You uncrossed your arms and shook his hand.

"Green Lantern." You said bluntly.

Robin introduced you to the rest of the team. You looked at each of them boredly. You could hear Hal sighing behind you. You might not have been looking at him but you could see him pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Are we done?" You asked.

Hal called out your name tiredly.

"You know how I am. Should've given your team a heads up." You left the room abruptly.

"I'm sorry, she's just cranky from her mission." Hal apologised to the League.

"She's not what I expected..." Dick muttered.

"Let's hope when she settles in she'll be more willing to work with us and her team." Diana sighed.

"Can someone please make sure she finds her room?" Dinah asked the Young Justice team.

"Go help her out." Barry gave Wally a gentle shove.

You eventually found the empty bedroom. You dropped onto the bed assuming the empty room was yours. Your bags were thrown into a corner beside some boxes. There was a welcome card on your nightstand—probably from one of the girls. You didn't care to read it though. Rapid knocks on your door had you groaning and slipping off the bed. You swung the door open expecting Hal but were met with a smiling ginger boy.

"Hey!" He greeted with a toothy grin.

"Hi."

"Black Carnay asked me to make sure you found your room and got settled in—"

"I'm settled just fine."

"Okay! Can I see your room? You can come see my room if you want!" He beamed. You squinted your eyes as if you were being blinded by his energy.

"I'm Kid Flash—you can call me Wally." He pointed a thumb at himself.

"You should see Zatanna's room, she does magic! Don't go into Roy's room—it's always messy."

You don't know how but at some point he ended up in your room. Sat on the edge of your bed, talking your ear off. You stood with your arms crossed staring at the boy.

"I know you said you were settled in just fine, but you haven't even opened your bags?" He pointed at the corner of bags and boxes.

"I'll do it eventually." You sighed.

"Here let me help you!" Before you could blink he was already on the floor opening your boxes.

He started to unpack the boxes, commenting on ever single thing he pulled out. You hadn't packed the boxes—Hal did. The boxes were filled with stuff from your bedroom at Hal's house. Space posters, a telescope, a man on the moon lamp you'd begged him for, and more.

"So have you always been a space nerd? Or was it just when you became a Green Lantern?" Wally asked.

"I've always liked space. Growing up with a Lantern kinda made it that way." Wally lit up at your addition to the conversation. It was the most he'd heard you talk.

"You know, my uncle and your dad are like best friends! Which means we're going to be good friends!" You laughed at his juvenile thought process.

You didn't notice the dreamy look on his face as you laughed at him.

"Hey, you should put these up over your bed!" He pulled out a pack of glow-in-the-dark stars. You remember Hal buying you some. You'd stacked books and whatnot onto your bed because you couldn't reach the ceiling.

"I'll put them up later."

"I'll put them up for you." He was already stood on your bed sticking the stars to the ceiling before you could protest.

"Thanks."

"No problem, stargirl. It's what friends are for!" You nearly gagged at the response.

Some time had passed. The team had gone on several missions and spent days training together. But after all of this their toughest challenge yet was trying to get you to spend time with them. You were cooperative on missions but you would train on your own (unless Diana forced you to train with everyone else). The one thing they couldn't overcome; you wouldn't hangout with them. Just as yourself. You were simply Green Lantern to them. They'd tried to get you to go to the arcade with them. As usual, you said no and retreated to your room.

"She smiled during training, I thought for sure she'd agree to go out today." M'gann frowned while putting her shoes on.

"Think you all just need to accept that she doesn't like us." Roy piped up.

"Don't say that, we're a team. She works just fine with us on missions." Dick responded. "I just don't get how she'll work fine with us out on the field but refused any other interaction with us."

"Hey, Wally! You coming with us to the arcade?" Artemis called out.

"Nah, I'm beat after that training." He grabbed some snacks from the kitchen and headed off.

"Did he hit his head on training?" Artemis asked.

"I think she possed him." Roy whispered.

You were sat at your desk reading a book. Boxes still sit in the corner of your room, but some posters had been put up, your man on the moon lamp was on your nightstand, there was stationery on your desk and some clothes in the closet. You still hadn't fully settled in though.

"Hey stargirl!" Wally kicked your door open and flopped onto your bed.

You took the headphones off one ear and spun your chair around to see him sprawled out comfortably with a pile of snacks. Some of your favourites in the mix. You still didn't know how he kept finding out things about you. Sometimes you did let your guard down around him, letting bits of info about your personal life slip out.

"Do you wanna play something?" He asked.

You marked your page with a bookmark before pausing your music and pulling your headphones around your neck.

"What do you wanna play?"

"Hmm," He contemplated. "Oh! Have you ever played heads up?"

"No."

"Hold on, let me download it."

A couple hours flew by. You played several different games and ran through the snacks. At some point you shifted from the desk to the opposite end of the bed.

"We should play 20 questions." He suggested.

"Sure." Your answer was hesitant, but you didn't realise. You fidgeted with your sleeves as he stared at you, thinking of his questions.

"Alright, what's your favourite subject?"

"Physics."

"Really?" His voice pitched higher. "Suppose that makes sense, space and stuff." He laughed.

"Uhm, what's your favourite planet?"

"Venus."

The questions went on. Wally asked all sorts; stuff about school, space, your personal preferences on random things. You then made it to the last 5 questions.

"Have you had your first kiss yet?"

"No." Your cheeks felt warm at the question. You cleared your throat to signal to Wally to move on.

"Wait, so you've never had a boyfriend or anything?" He was so surprised by your answer.

"No. You've got three questions left." You replied quickly. Your cheeks kept heating up and you hated it.

"What? That's not fair!" He protested. "I was just—suprised that you've never dated! I mean you're—beautiful." He choked a little before the compliment.

You stared at eachother for a moment. His face went a little red and your face wouldn't stop getting hot. Your heart was beating faster than usual. You swallowed the urges creeping up your throat and took a deep breath.

"You've got three questions left." You said softly.

"Uhm—uh have you ever had a crush on someone?"

"—I-I don't think so?"

He laughed. "What do you mean? And that's doesn't count as a question!"

"I don't know. I just—how am I supposed to be sure?"

"I think you just know." He said with a smile.

The staring and hot feeling came back for another moment. You couldn't help staring into his eyes, but at the same time you felt uncomfortable.

"One question."

"I have two questions left! That didn't count."

"Yes it did, ask me the last question."

"Fine," He looked around your room to try get inspiration. "What would you do if you weren't a Green Lantern?"

"Leave."

"Huh?"

"I'd leave. I'd move somewhere for college, leave all this behind." You gestured to your ring and out the window to the surroundings of headquarters.

"What would you study?" You'd never had someone ask you about yourself—only about your ring or your dad—with genuine interest. You and your interests weren't what people wanted to know about.

"I want to be a scientist. I really wanted to be an astronaut when I was younger." You laughed at yourself. "I'd like to study the universe in more depth. I don't really get the time to do that when on missions."

"Of course you do, stargirl." Unlike the first time he was he in room, you caught the dreamy look I'm his eyes.

The sound of chatter brought you back to reality. The rest of the team had returned. The realisation that you've done it again washed over you. You'd spilt out more information about yourself again. You've been so good at keeping to yourself when it came to the League and the other Lanterns. Something about Wally made it so easy to just talk.

"I think I'm going to get ready for bed." You began looking for your pyjamas, silently signalling for him to leave.

"Oh, goodnight then."

Fury boiled in your veins. Hal was getting on your nerves again. It's not rare for him to get on you about your mistakes and bad behaviour. But that's all he does. He points it out and you argue. Suggestions are never made on how to change for the better, and reasonable conversations are never had. Just screaming. And crying behind closed doors.

That's what was happening. You were sitting on the floor of your bedroom, sobbing. Post-mission exhaustion and the guilt of messing up didn't pair well with speaking to your dad. He did try to have a level headed conversation with you—but you didn't feel like having one. You tried to walk away and just resulted in voices being raised.

Your throat hurt and your head ached. Instead of training or studying or doing anything useful—here you are—sat on your floor crying like a kid.

"Stargirl?" A quiet voice asked on the other side of the wall.

"What?" Your voice cracked.

"Can I come in?" Wally's words came out slowly. He was carefully deciding what to say, not word vomiting like usual.

You sat rigid for a minute. Your tear-soaked hands paused where they were wiping your cheeks. Heat filled your bones but you couldn't tell the difference between the anger your dad made you feel and whatever showed up when Wally was around.

"N–no! Go away." You choked on a sob.

You didn't want to be seen like this. Not by anyone. Especially Wally. You don't want to be weak in front of others. You can barely stand being weak in front of yourself. The glow of the stupid stars he had stuck up highlighted the tears on your hands. Your face too, but your mirror was flipped around so you couldn't see.

"Then," He sat down with his back against the door. "Can I stay?"

The sight of him leaned against the door. A sad frown on his face. Paired with brows furrowed from concern. The image filled your mind and it stabbed your heart. No matter how much time passes, and all the things you go through with him and the team—you can't bring yourself to understand why he wastes his time on you. Part of you knew why—but you didn't understand—or believe it to be true. You inhaled a shaky breath and stood up. You quickly wipe your face before opening the door. Wally grabbed onto the door frame to hold himself up. He tilted his head up to stare at you from the floor.

"Get up." You nodded your head. "You look stupid."

He stood instantly—about to ask if you were okay, but you just turned and sat on your bed. Door left open. An invitation no one but him had ever received. And he didn't let the invite float alone. He took it immediately. Stepping inside your space and closing the door behind him. Wally cautiously moved closer and took a seat on the edge of your bed. Your room was dark. Beside the stars on your ceiling. Curtains drawn and lights off. As he debated what to say or if to say anything at all, he studied your room. Like he did every time he invaded your space. More posters had been put up. Your desk was cluttered with books and stationery. A few trinkets are scattered across the surfaces in your room. A CD player was plugged in under your desk, and it's worn stickers are peeling off. Three CD cases were piled beside it.

Wally smiled softly. You were actually settling in. Slowly—but it was happening.

"Wanna talk about it?" His voice was gentle. Not in a baby way but a sweet way.

You tugged on your sleeves. You were curled into yourself. You sniffled and looked anywhere but at him. Well, you tried to look anywhere but him, yet your eyes kept flickering back to his green eyes. It was self-torture. Looking away and looking back just to get scared by the sincerity in his eyes.

"...Got into a fight with Hal..." Wally barely picked up what you said.

He stayed silent. You took a deep breath and gave him a quick look.

"I—" You bit your lip as you searched for your words. "I messed up."

It physically pained you to say it. To be so vulnerable and Wally knew that. He also knows this conversation could've never happened months ago.

"I got—I uhm—" You hiccuped.

Wally's hand grazed your hand. It flinched at the feeling of his skin but you didn't retract from him. You went quiet and still. His hand slowly intertwined with yours. His grip was loose but grounding. You were free to let go. But he was there and letting you know he would always be there.

"I don't know." Those were the words you settled on.

The same as always. Anytime your conversations got uncomfortable (vulnerable) you chose those words. They were a reflex at this point. When your teachers would ask why you were falling asleep in class—"I don't know". When your friends worried over your bruised and bandaged body—"I don't know". When Hal would beg you to tell him why you weren't focused on the mission—"I don't know". And whenever Wally would question your emotions. When he would find his way beyond the walls you had built and convince you to let the ice around your heart melt.

"Are you sure?" You stared at him in disbelief.

"I think you do know." His thumb brushed across your knuckles. "Your smart, stargirl."

If the conversation weren't so serious and there weren't tears in your eyes, he would've laughed at your dropped jaw.

"—I-I don't know how to explain it."

"Try, please?"

If Hal had spoken to you like this you would've taken it the wrong way. You would've stated another screaming match. Something about Wally made it different. And that you honestly didn't know. You didn't know what this was. And you hated it. You hated the unknown. It was scary.

"I want a normal life."

That was the most honest thing Wally's ever heard from you. It's the most honest thing you've ever heard from yourself.

"I don't want this responsibility." Your ring glowed dimly in the dark.

"I don't want to miss school. I don't want to miss hangouts with my friends. I don't want to upset people," You bottom lip wobbled. "But that's all I seem to do."

Wally's eyes stung at the sound of your voice wavering.

"I don't know why he doesn't like me. I don't understand why he kept me."

At this point you'd broken into sobs again. You did everything you could hold the sobs back but they and the tears escaped you. Wally held onto your hand. His grip got tighter. He tried to ground you without overstepping.

You continued to cry. To pour your heart out to Wally. Vulnerability coursed through your body but it felt like bacteria. Unfamiliar—dangerous even. Something that shouldn't be there. Something that needs to be removed—and that's when you shot up from leaning on his shoulder. A wet patch stained his top. The conversation had brought you two closer. Mentally and physically. But your fear was about to unravel to strings of faith Wally had worked so hard to tie together.

"What? You okay?" Wally's voice was groggy.

Your eyes were bleary. Your body was warm and your lips were chapped. Your room was brighter. A small amount of sunlight beamed through your closed curtains. You had fallen asleep. From your position beside him and the indentation on his clothes, you could tell you fell asleep curled into him.

You cleared your throat. "Sorry." Your voice was raw and it hurt to say that one word.

"For what? What time is it?"

"You should go." You shuffled away from him.

"Star—"

"Please go." Your voice was broken but demanding.

With a sad look, he stood up from your bed. His fingers slipped from the spaces between yours. He exited the room but not before saying,

"Thanks for talking."

His tone was sincere, gentle, and kind. It was everything beautiful. It was light.

Wally West, is your teammate. The closest thing to being your friend and yet so far from it. Ever since the day you arrived—all moody about it—he's been persistent in getting to know you, in becoming someone to you. It was scary. It sounds silly to say. He'd never done anything that would typically make people scared. But he was just so nice, and his presence was warm. You found yourself relaxing, settling. Your piece was finding its way in the puzzle we call life. You thought that would've made you happy. It just scared you though. You thought when you found your place and your people you wouldn't have this ache in your body. Every time he'd get too close—nearly persuade you to join the team hangouts, have you accidentally pour your heart to him—you'd get a new kind of ache. An unfamiliar aching in your heart. And it scared you because you didn't understand it.

This fear is what led to today's events. It's what wound Wally unconscious in the Med Bay, your dad yelling at you for compromising the mission, and an ache you hadn't felt in a long time resurfacing.

You hadn't spoken since that night. Well, you hadn't spoken since that night. It was like you had just joined the team. Your relationship had gone back to square one. Wally would greet you with a small smile and you would respond with a nod. Only now there was an underlying guilt and fear. You would nod with hesitancy. He realised he wasn't welcome to barge into your room anymore. The invitation had been revoked.

"What happened?" Dick enquired.

They were waiting for a video game to load. Almost the entire team was in the room. All doing their individual things, but pausing the hear what Wally would say.

"What do you mean?" Wally let out a nervous and dead-sounding laugh.

"You and her. Something changed—we can all tell." Artemis piped up, she was sitting on the floor fixing her bow.

"Yeah, she's gone all cold again. Even to you." Dick added.

Wally's heart stopped for a split second. He didn't want to air out your private conversations. He couldn't. He wouldn't.

"Nothing." He scratched the back of his neck and avoided his friends' gazes. "She's probably just tired. The Lanterns have had her busy lately!"

"You go out with us now." Conner implored from across the room. "You stopped going out so you could spend more time with her."

"Alright Conner, no need to announce my life to everyone here!" Wally snapped.

"Did you guys fight?" M'gann wondered.

The room went still and turned to Wally.

"No?" His voice was weak.

You hadn't fought. But you didn't seem happy with him.

"No?" Dick repeated.

"Uh—we didn't argue—we just—" Had a very serious conversation where she opened up more than she's ever before and I'm so proud of her for that but then she shut me out and I don't understand why. "She's tired that's all." He concluded in a faltering tone.

Dick stared at him. He was breaking him down and reading him like a book with a stare. And Wally now started to feel guilty. Your flickering glances appeared in the forefront of his mind. Did he make you uncomfortable? Did he overstep? Waves of guilt crashed over him and he suddenly had no interest in his new video game.

"I'm actually not feeling great," He set his controller aside and stood up from the couch. "You can play if you want Conner."

He left the room in a brooding state. And Dick could tell. He was very familiar with brooding people after all. He wanted to go after him—he's his best friend. But what would he say? How does he comfort Wally if he doesn't understand you? He can't assure him that everything will be alright. He didn't know what had happened and it didn't seem like Wally knew either. How can he help if he has no evidence to study? All Dick did was shut down the console and retreat to his room.

Training had been going horribly. You couldn't keep it together. You were impossible to work with. Everyone tried and no one succeeded. Wally was their only hope to get you back to being cooperative before the big mission—but you wouldn't even look at him.

"We need to talk." Hal said from the door of the training room.

It was just you in there. Letting out your frustrations on the poor punching bag.

"About what?" You droned.

Hal sighed hearing your voice. You sounded exhausted. You looked exhausted. There were dark circles under your eyes.

"You aren't cooperating with the team anymore." You threw a punch and struck the bag. "Why's that?"

The echo of the punch lingered as you looked up at him.

"Why do you care?" Your voice was barley above a whisper but you were clearly snarling.

"I'm your mentor and your—" You threw another hard punch. Harder than the last.

"Oh shut up Hal!" You threw your gloves off and marched up to the door.

"Don't!" He blocked the door. "We need to talk. The upcoming mission is important. You can't be this off key with your team."

Your face was drooping. A solemn expression dressed it.

"I've managed so long on my own. And they've managed so long without my cooperation." You shoved through his arm blocking your path.

"They'll be fine." You stormed down the hallway.

Hal watched you disappear. He ran a hand down his face and braced himself against the doorframe.

"Please stay safe."

The mission was going great. That's what you would say if you were a pathological liar. It was going horribly. You'd all gotten separated. Yet somehow you and Wally found your way to eachother. The monster of a villain you were trying to stop was currently rampaging through his lair. You and Wally were hidden behind a large beam trying to come up with a plan or something.

"I can build a construct—"

"Are you mad at me?" Wally blurted out.

"What?" Your eyes were wide.

"I know this isn't the most conventional time to talk but you've been avoiding me and I think you're scared—"

"W–what? No I'm not!" You started to raise your voice but remembered you were hiding.

"You keep avoiding things, stargirl. You avoid me, the team, your dad—"

"Don't you dare go there!" You grabbed the collar of his suit. Your voice raised too loud before you could stop it.

"You don't get to go there! You don't know what you're talking about!" Your eyes were stinging and your face was hot.

"It's the only reason I can think of! Why would you avoid unless you were scared?" Wally was pleading with you to reason with him.

"Just because I said a few things to you doesn't mean you know me. You don't! You don't understand me—so don't act like it!" You fists were shaking.

Your yells covered up the sound of the creature you were hiding from approaching. Its large fist crashed into the pillar. Debris went flying. Crashing against the walls of the fortress. Particles dirtied your costume. Blood dripped past your eyes. It wasn't yours. Wally reacted within seconds. He had pulled you closer to him and shielded you from the debris. While you were both stunned the monster grabbed Wally. He was trapped in the thing's fist. He squirmed and wheezed. His body felt crushed by the monster's grip.

"Put him down!" You shot a beam of green at the monster's eye.

The creature groaned and threw Wally out of his grip. He was sent flying into the wall across from you. The impact caused cracks to form. You watched in horror as the cracks spread. The monster cried in pain in the background, Wally lay unconscious on the ground with blood dripping from his head. You stood frozen watching the cracks crawl up the ceiling. More debris was flying. Not from a pillar. The ceiling was coming down on top of you both. You ran to Wally, skidding onto your knees and forming a construct around the two of you. You shielded him with the construct and your body.

"Oh shit..." You muttered as the debris weighed down on your construct.

You would only be able to hold it up for so long. You could only hope the rest of the team was okay and that someone would show up and get you both out of the mess you made. As you helplessly watched the blood seep from Wally's body guilt began to drown you. Why do you do this?

"...I don't want to upset people,' Your bottom lip wobbled. 'But that's all I seem to do.'."

A strangled cry escaped your lungs. Dust replaced it. The diet and dust from debris escaped into your construct. You fell into a coughing fit. Your vision started to blur. You couldn't tell if it was dust in your eyes or if you were about to pass out.

"Kid Flash!" You think that was Robin's voice.

The weight was getting lighter, probably Conner. But you couldn't bare it and the dust in your lungs any longer. Everything went dark.

The Med Bay smelled of chemicals and quiet beeps of monitors filled the air. Your body felt stale. Your lungs felt dusty and old, like they belonged to a smoker not you. With a groan, you sat up in the cot. Your ring was glowing dimly in the dark room, the only source of light aside from the lowering moon. The oxygen mask on your face felt suffocating. You pulled it off and stood up, ripping the curtains to the side. The metal screeched. The Med Bay appeared empty—until you spotted drawn curtains with faint voices behind them.

"He's going to be okay Iris."

You recognised that voice as the Flash; Barry Allen. You had never met Iris but you'd heard of her through Wally. And you know how much she meant to him, and he to her. You felt responsible for this. Wally's injuries, Iris' worry, and Barry's stress. You felt responsible for it all. The weight felt heavier than the rubble you were previously trapped under. Part of you desperately wanted to see him. Maybe hold him and repeat the sweet nothings he would whisper to you. But you didn't, instead, you silently left the Med Bay.

You stood in the kitchen, a glass in hand as you filled it from the tap. You only got one gulp before you heard him.

"What the hell was that?" His voice wasn't raised but you knew this conversation would end up loud.

You set the glass down with an aggressive thud. Barry must've told him you were awake. Your mind thought of the conversations and arguments you've had with Hal and Wally. Thinking about Wally made you think about his accusation; that you were avoiding. Not just him, but your dad and the team too. Hal was going on about the mission, your mistakes, and begging you to turn around—to say something.

"Why did you keep me?"

"Sorry?" Hal was truly bewildered by your question.

You turned to face him. "Why did you bother keeping me?"

"Your my daughter—"

"Well, you don't act like it!" Your fists clenched at your sides.

"This isn't about me and us, it's about—" Hal backtracked.

"It is about you and us though! Everything is!" Tears began to pool the corners of your eyes.

"Dad, I'm tired. I'm so tired of this." You gestured to the building and yourselves with your ring hand. "I just want a normal life,"

Hal took a cautious step foward. His mouth opened to speak but your words tumbled out first.

"With a proper family."

"I don't remember what she looks like. I barley see you—and when I do, we yell and I run and I cry. Alone. My friends hate me because I can't respond to messages—I miss hangouts and give terrible excuses. My teachers look at me the same way they look a kids with deadbeat parents. Cause you're never there! You miss meetings—you—you forget to pick me up..."

You choked on a sob in the middle of your tangent. Everything was coming out all at once. Just like it did with Wally.

"I don't know when the last time I made you proud was. I don't know if I ever have." You sniffled as your bottom lip quivered.

"I know I'm a problem—"

"You're not a problem." Hal interjected.

"—but I am! And everyone knows it, everyone acts like it. I can't understand myself! I don't know how to be the way people want me to be!" You took a shaky breath as hot tears fell from your eyes.

"I shouldn't have joined this team—I should never have sworn that oath! You shouldn't have kept me!" You angrily wipe your teary face.

Hal was broken at the sight of you. He knew he wasn't the best dad, but he thought he was better than this. He never thought he would be the father to upset his kid the way he has you. He never for a moment thought he would be the root of his kid's problems. Every issue you had, or caused, all seemed to stem from your childhood. The improper childhood he gave you. Due to his lack of presence up until you became a Green Lantern. As you ran out of the kitchen all your moments together flashed before him. He couldn't think of a time before you were a Lantern—minus the day you showed up on his doorstep. He ran a hand down his tired face and sighed. He fucked up bad.

You knew you shouldn't have. You knew from the start this wouldnt work—wouldn't last. It's why you constantly put off unpacking. Your boxes and bags were still half packed. You shoved your essentials into the bags. Clothes, hygiene products, bandages...as you sorted through your nightstand drawer you found a polaroid. It was you and Wally. The picture was taken one of those nights he ditched team hangouts to sit around your room. He didn't know who the camera belonged to but he found it and wanted to take a picture. He took two, kept one for himself and left the other behind for you. You sniffled as you stared at the picture. You were smiling. It was smaller than his, but bigger than the usual practiced one you used. It was genuine.

"Stargirl!" Your bedroom door banged open.

You snapped your head up. Wally was dressed in comfy clothes provided by his auntie. Bandages were wrapped around his head. There was some red blotches on the white material. A bruise peeked out from underneath. You winced at the sight.

"What are you doing?"

You stood up, shoving the polaroid into your pocket and walked over to your bag. You knelt down and threw your CDs into the bag before zipping it up.

"What I should've done from the start."

"You're not leaving, are you?" You felt immense guilt from his cracking voice. "You can't!"

"What's the point of staying? No one wants me here—look what I've done!" You screamed.

Your lips began to quiver again. Your face felt hot and you know the moonlight was highlighting the tears on your cheeks.

"I want you here, stargirl!"

"You want to have a Green Lantern! Trust me, there's better ones out there!" You swung your bag over your shoulder and began to walk out the door, but he stopped you.

"But they're not you! I don't want a Green Lantern if they're not you!" He gripped your shoulders.

"Why would you want me here if my own family doesn't even want me? He doesn't care about me—"

"I do!" Wally cried. "I care about you—you're so important to me." Tears began to run down his face.

"I know your life is complicated and you see yourself as complicated—"

"I am." You turned your head away from him.

"—and that's fine!" A hand slid up your neck, resting on your jaw and guiding you to look at him.

"But just stay, and be complicated with me." He pleaded through sobs.

Wally cared about you more than anyone. He loved you and all your flaws—even if they hurt him. He loved it when you let him in even if that meant you would push him away later. He wants to be there for you. He wants to help you overcome your problems and figure yourself out. He wants to be there when you are scared and when you aren't.

"Let me figure you out, please?"

You broke down into a sobbing mess. You hiccuped and sniffled. Wally felt your body shake beneath his hands. He took a slow step foward and pulled you in. You cried into his shoulder as his hands rested on your back and neck.

"I'm sorry! I—I know I'm difficult, and I pushed you away. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to I just—I don't know what to do..." Your hands clawed at his shirt, trying to ground yourself.

"I'm sorry for yelling—and getting you hurt."

"That wasn't your fault. You saved me, stargirl." Wally whispered.

"I'm sorry for pushing. I shouldn't have brought it up on the mission, and I shouldn't have called you out like that."

"No," You pulled away from his embrace to look at him. "I needed to hear it."

Wally slid the bag off your shoulder, letting it drop to the floor. You used the sleeve of your jumper to wipe the tears off his face. Careful to not irritate any injuries.

"Wanna go star gazing?"

"Wally, the sun's starting to rise." You pointed at your window.

"You can still see a couple," He took your hand in his. "You can tell me about the constellations and I'll try find them."

He gently pulled you out your bedroom doorway and headed for an exit.

The early morning breeze felt nice against your warm cheeks. You took a deep inhale when you stepped outside. The two of you lay down and stared up at the sky. The deep midnight colours were fading away as the orange and pink hues took over. A sliver of the perfect sky blue peeked over the horizon, following the rising sun. Wally was right, you could still see a few stars in the darker parts of the sky.

"So, Venus is your favourite planet, what's your favourite constellation?" You turned your head over to find him already looking at you.

"Perseus and Andromeda," You answered and turned back to gaze at the stars.

"You can see them in the northern hemisphere most of the year. Perseus and Andromeda are both Greek Mythology figures. Perseus was returning from killing Medusa when he saw Andromeda chained to a seaside rock. She had been chained up by her parents King Cephus and Queen Cassiopeia, as Poseidon had sent the seat monster Cetus to destroy their kingdom as punishment for boasting about how beautiful Andromeda was. An oracle told them to sacrifice their daughter."

You turned back to find Wally still staring and listening internally.

"Perseus saved Andromeda and killed Cetus. Then he asked to marry her, but she's was already promised to her uncle Phineus. So Perseus killed him too, and they got married."

Wally had that lovesick look on his face again. If Dick or Roy ever saw that look on his face they would be howling laughing. He looked helplessly in love, a little pathetic. And he wouldn't have it any other way.

"You're such a nerd, stargirl."

"You're the one who asks." You scoffed.

"I like listening to your voice." He admitted.

You sighed. The morning breeze, the pastel colours that bled through the sky, his hand in yours—it was perfect. You didn't fully understand it all. And that was okay. You were okay.

It was common knowledge that the ring chose it's user. You never understood why the ring chose you though.

"Perhaps the ring knew you needed it. That you needed to feel purpose—guidance."

That's what the other Lanterns would say.

Whatever the case may be, you find yourself feeling glad for the ring. It's strange, something you once hated, made many futile attempts to rid of it, now feels precious. It felt right on your finger. Not like an abandoned ring—fitted for someone else and forced onto your hand—it felt like it was yours. And you're happy that it's yours. Without the ring you would've never ended up here; gazing at the stars with someone so special.

Freddy was stunned at the playful jab before he laughed.

"Grandpa ? Oh…You’re on, brat. Time to show you who’s the pro !" Freddy tuned his guitar quickly, Freddy’s fingers moved quickly, the sharp, raw sound of metal ringing through the room, his guitar screeching in perfect chaos. The rhythm was heavy and aggressive, fast-paced, and gritty—just like the energy he exuded. He shot Eddie a look, mischief in his eyes as he grinned, clearly waiting for the other to follow suit. "Dya still think ya can follow or ya gonna eat dust, kid ?"

Eddie’s eyes lit up the second he recognized the familiar beat and huffed at Freddy’s challenge. His grin grew wide, almost impossible, as he didn’t hesitate to match Freddy’s intensity. His fingers flew across the strings of his own guitar, picking up on the fast-paced rhythm without breaking a sweat. The two of them locked in perfect sync, their guitars screaming together, the notes slicing through the air with sharp precision.

It was pure chaos—two forces of nature coming together in a way only they could. Freddy added some deep, wailing bends to the riffs, each note an explosion of sound. Eddie grinned wider, pushing himself to match the madness with his own guitar, his fingers moving with a frantic energy that matched the metal’s fire.

As the music built, the sound grew louder and faster. The two played off each other, an intricate dance of metal riffs and slamming rhythms, shredding in perfect sync. The other slashers, who had been gathered and were quietly observing, couldn’t help but nod their heads in approval as the intense sound filled the room. Even Michael, usually reserved, stood still, watching with a certain quiet satisfaction, though it was clear he was impressed.

You could see Eddie’s entire demeanor change. The sadness that had clouded his eyes lifted, replaced by the fierce, focused joy of doing what he loved most. For a moment, everything else—the weight of being trapped in St. Louis, the uncertainty, the curse that had plagued him—faded away. Freddy, as if feeding off Eddie’s energy, kicked the tempo up even more, challenging Eddie to keep up. But Eddie didn’t falter. He rose to the challenge, matching Freddy riff for riff, note for note. The two of them locked eyes briefly, a silent acknowledgment passing between them—a shared thrill in the music they were playing.

And in the back of the room, you could see the others—Vincent, Jason, and even Bo—watching with something close to admiration. They had seen many things in their time, but this was something else. Even the staff, some hesitant, some amazed, couldn’t help but gather around, drawn into the chaotic harmony. Freddy shot one last grin at Eddie before launching into a solo, the notes rising higher, faster. Eddie laughed—a pure, unrestrained sound—as he followed swiftly. As the last note rang out, Freddy let out a low whistle, his grin wide and full of approval. He held up his guitar like a trophy, shaking his head in disbelief. “Not bad, Munson. Not bad at all. You’ve got some serious skill.”

Eddie, still riding the high of the music, couldn’t help but beam with pride. His fingers hovered over his guitar for a second, as if he was still processing what had just happened. "You’re not so bad yourself, Krueger. Guess we make a pretty good team."

Before Freddy could respond, a series of claps filled the room. Jason clapped his hands slowly, the sound deep and rhythmic, the only acknowledgement he ever gave. Bubba let out a series of sharp whistles, clearly impressed by the performance. Vincent was quieter, but even he gave a short nod, his expression unreadable but somehow pleased. Bo joined in with a low whistle, his Southern drawl echoing as he called out, “That was some damn fine playin’, Eddie boy.”

He seemed to have even forgotten his feud with Eddie. Even Brahms, who usually kept to himself, gave a soft round of applause, his gaze fixed on Eddie with a rare look of admiration. Pennywise and Penny, both dressed in their clown costumes, were far more vocal—Pennywise grinning manically as he clapped, while Penny added his own wild laughter to the mix.

Eddie, still grinning, looked around at the others who were praising him. It was strange, how quickly things had shifted. He had come here feeling broken, alone—now, surrounded by the most dangerous, twisted people in the world, he felt...welcomed.

"Guess I still got it," Eddie said with a shrug, still smiling. "If I get to keep playing for you guys, I guess I don’t mind sticking around for a while."

They laughed and as the last of the applause died down, Michael gave him a quiet nod of recognition from the side. It wasn’t much, but it meant everything to Eddie. He was no longer the freak. He was a freak amongst many and he felt invincible—strength does come in numbers.

…

As the days passed, Eddie started to find his rhythm with the other slashers. The initial tension had faded, and whether it was Freddy cracking jokes, Bo pulling him aside to share a laugh, or even Jason giving him an occasional nod of approval, Eddie found himself easing into the strange family they had become.

One afternoon, you found him in the common room, sitting on one of the chairs, tuning his guitar while the others gathered around, chatting casually. You smiled at the sight—Eddie, who had seemed so lost and out of place when he first arrived, now blending in with the chaotic and oddball crew.

“Hey, Eddie,” you called, your voice soft but catching his attention nonetheless. He looked up at you, flashing a grin.

"What's up, Nurse Y/N ?" he asked, his voice light, an easy smile on his face. It had become more common to see him this way now, his mood lighter than it had been when he first arrived.

“Hey, so I’ve been thinking," you started, sitting across from him. "I know you’ve been getting along with everyone here, and it’s nice seeing you all bond. But I was wondering—do you like playing games ? Anything in particular you would like to play on game night ?”

Eddie raised an eyebrow, thinking for a moment. “Games, huh ?” He grinned again, clearly getting excited at the idea. “Oh man, you’ve hit the jackpot. I’m a huge fan of Dungeons & Dragons.”

At that, you couldn't help but chuckle. "Dungeons & Dragons, huh ? I guess I should have known."

He leaned forward, his eyes lighting up. “Yeah ! I used to play all the time with my friends. Best way to kill time and escape reality, you know ?” His fingers absentmindedly strummed a few chords on his guitar as he spoke, his passion for the game clear in his voice. “The stories, the adventures, the characters—it’s all amazing. You build your own world.”

You considered his words for a moment before a plan began to form in your mind. “Well, how about this ? I’ll organize a game for the hospital and you’ll help me. I’m sure the others would love to give it a try.”

Eddie’s eyes widened with excitement. “You serious ? Dude, that’d be awesome !”

You smiled, already imagining how the game would play out, especially with the slashers involved. “Of course. I’ll make it happen."

You had never seen Eddie so happy. It was heartwarming to see his big smile up close.

…

The next day, you gathered everyone—well, as many of the slashers as you could manage—to play. You knew it wasn’t going to be a typical session, but that’s what made it exciting. You arranged the room to accommodate everyone, making sure there were enough seats, snacks, and comfortable places to sit. You even managed to get a few pencils and some dice from your stash of supplies.

Eddie was already sitting at the head of the table. Freddy was leaning against the wall, his ever-present grin plastered on his face. Brahms was bouncing excitedly in his seat, and even Jason, who didn’t speak much, seemed intrigued by the idea. Some of the others had gathered as well, some more curious than others.

“So,” you started, taking the seat next to Eddie, “who’s ready for some D&D ?”

Freddy raised a hand dramatically. “I’m in, but I call dibs on being the villain.”

Eddie rolled his eyes but couldn’t help laughing. “You’d be perfect for that.”

Bo leaned over and whispered to Vincent, “What the hell is D&D, anyway ?”

Vincent simply shrugged, his gaze fixed on the dice in front of him. He had no clue.

Arthur, who had been somewhat quiet, piped up, "Would you mind explain the rules to us ? I am afraid a majority of us are strangers to the game…"

Eddie smiled, taking the lead in organizing the game. “Okay, I’ll guide everyone through the basics. No need to worry about the rules—you’ll catch on as we go.”

As you handed out character sheets, Eddie leaned toward you and whispered, “This is going to be insane.”

You smiled and nodded in agreement.

And as the first roll of the dice echoed in the room, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of contentment. Eddie, so eager and animated, was bonding with the others. And for once, it felt like everyone—yourself included—was exactly where they needed to be.

Then, just as you were about to start, the door creaked open, and in walked Penny and Pennywise, both of them grinning widely.

Penny’s eyes lit up when he saw the game set up. “Ooh, what’s this ?” he asked, bouncing on his heels, his red pompom-like attire swaying as he took a few steps forward.

“Dungeons & Dragons,” you answered, smiling. "Want to play ?"

Penny's excitement was palpable. He practically jumped in place. “Yesss ! I wanna play ! I looove games !”

Pennywise, on the other hand, stood back, arms crossed over his colorful costume, watching with a slight smirk. “I’m just here to watch. Don't mind me."

Eddie’s grin widened at the sight of them. “This is gonna be fire,” he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. “I didn’t expect you all to be into D&D.”

“You’d be surprised what they’re into,” you replied, chuckling softly. “But don’t worry, Penny, we have plenty of space for you to join in. We’ll just need to get you a character.”

Penny’s face lit up even more at the idea, and he practically skipped over to the table. “Okay ! Okay ! I want a character with lots of laughs and fun !”

Freddy raised an eyebrow at Penny, a devilish grin on his face. "Maybe a jester then ? Gotta entertain the crowds, right ?"

As the game continued to set up, you saw Pennywise settle into a nearby chair, observing the scene with quiet amusement. His eyes flicked from one slasher to another, taking in the strange interactions, the laughs, the playful teasing, and the way the others were adapting to the game.

"You're all so...predictable," Pennywise murmured under his breath, though there was no real malice in his voice. It was just a quiet observation, like a predator watching a herd. But his smile, as always, was wide and unnerving.

Meanwhile, Eddie was already figuring out the plot and the storyline and when he was ready, he got immediately into the role of Donjon Master. He was obviously in his element now. With everyone settled, he started. “Okay, let’s get this started. The adventurers gathered in a tavern in a bustling village...”

The story began to unfold, and soon the group was so immersed in the game that even Pennywise couldn’t help but chuckle at some of the antics his brother was pulling off. Penny, with his jester wizard persona, caused some humorous moments—casting spells that turned objects into balloons, making random characters burst into laughter, and generally disrupting the flow in the most delightful way.

And even though Pennywise wasn’t playing, he seemed content just watching, offering the occasional comment or playful jab at the game’s events, but all the while, he kept his distance. The session was a huge success—chaotic, funny, and an odd but wonderful bonding experience. You could see the slashers connecting in ways you hadn’t expected, and Eddie seemed satisfied.

The others were so caught up in the game that they didn’t notice at first, but soon, Pennywise stood up, his nose twitching as he walked around the room like a predator on a scent trail. His sharp gaze flicked toward Freddy, then back to Eddie, then back to Freddy again. Pennywise’s eyes widened as realization dawned on him. He chuckled darkly to himself, his laughter growing louder until it echoed through the room.

“Well, well, well…” Pennywise’s voice was low, almost teasing, as he turned to face the group. His grin was almost predatory now, as if he’d uncovered a delicious secret. “This is rich.”

The group looked up from the game, their attention now fully on Pennywise, who was still sniffing the air like a bloodhound.

“You know, there’s something interesting going on here,” Pennywise continued, his grin widening. “I’ve been sniffing the air, and I recognize that scent, that familiar scent. At first, I thought I was imagining it, but now, it’s clear…”

He turned towards Freddy, then Eddie. “You two…you both have the same scent.”

The room grew quiet for a moment.

“Same scent ?” Freddy raised an eyebrow, looking genuinely curious. “What dya mean, ya old clown ?”

Pennywise's eyes gleamed with mischievous amusement, his voice laced with a dangerous undertone. “The only way two people could have the same scent...is if they are related.” He chuckled, his grin widening even further, the eerie sound filling the room.

Eddie’s eyes widened in surprise and confusion. “Related ? What are you talking about ?”

“I’m talking about blood, my dear boy,” Pennywise purred, his gaze flicking between the two. “I’d say this is a family reunion waiting to happen.”

The others in the room exchanged confused glances, but Pennywise’s words had clearly struck a chord with Eddie, who looked between him and Freddy, his mind racing.

“You’re saying...Freddy and I are somehow related ?” Eddie asked slowly, his voice a mix of disbelief and confusion.

Pennywise’s laughter deepened. “Oh, I’d say the resemblance is unmistakable, but the scent...oh, yes, the scent gives it away.” He tilted his head, his eyes gleaming. “You both have that particular essence. It’s not something you find every day….”

Freddy looked just as taken aback as Eddie, his usually unshakable demeanor momentarily faltering. “Wait, this doesn’t make sense. I’m not even sure I know my family all that well.”

Pennywise took a slow step toward Freddy, his voice dripping with intrigue. “Well, you might want to reconsider that, Freddy. A family bond can be stronger than you think, especially when it comes to our kind. A bond formed in...unusual circumstances.”

Eddie, still trying to make sense of it, turned to you for guidance. “This is...this is insane, right ? He’s not serious, is he ?”

You could feel the tension in the room rise. Pennywise, as usual, seemed to revel in it. He leaned back with a wicked grin, clearly enjoying the confusion and unease he’d just stirred up.

“Well, my dear Eddie, I’ve never been one to joke about family,” Pennywise said with a sly smile. The room fell into a heavy silence, the air thick with unspoken questions, as Eddie and Freddy exchanged looks, both now caught in the whirlwind of Pennywise’s revelation.

Eddie was the first to break the silence, his voice a little rough as he tried to make sense of it all. “We’re just two random people who ended up here...how could we possibly be related ?”

Pennywise chuckled darkly, his eyes twinkling with mystery. “Life tends to surprise us when we least expect it.”

Freddy laughed at first, his usual cocky smirk spreading across his face—thinking it was some kind of joke or prank from the clown. “Nah, no way. Can’t be. I never set foot in Hawkins.” He leaned back, clearly amused by the thought. Not that he minded the mistake all that much. The kid was cool.

Eddie, on the other hand, laughed awkwardly, his fingers twitching nervously. “Yeah, I actually moved there when I was six. Never even knew where I was born, just…somewhere in Ohio.”

Freddy's grin started to falter as the words sank in. The kid was born in Ohio ? His eyes narrowed, and a strange tension filled the air. “Wait…did you say Ohio ?”

Eddie shrugged, oblivious to the growing unease. “Yeah, why ?”

Freddy didn’t answer right away. His mind was already racing, calculating, piecing things together. “I was born in Ohio too. When were you born, kid ?”

“1965,” Eddie replied, his nervousness growing. “You ?”

Freddy’s face turned pale, his jaw tightening as the realization hit him like a freight train. “1942. And I died in ’68,” he muttered, his words heavy with meaning. He stared at Eddie, watching his expression shift from confusion to complete shock.

For a moment, neither of them spoke before Freddy broke the silence:

“...Well, sh*t.”

“SHIT ! SHIT ! SHIT !” Eddie started pacing, his heart pounding. His hands flew up to his head, as if trying to stop the thoughts swirling inside. He didn’t know what to think anymore. Could it actually be true ?

Freddy, trying to stay calm despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside him, raised his hands, signaling Eddie to stop. “Okay, okay, easy, kid. Just…just hold on. Let’s think this through. One way to be sure you’re mine.” His voice, though calm, was slightly shaky.

Eddie stopped pacing for a moment, trying to catch his breath. “How ? A blood test ? A DNA check ? A seance ? What the hell do I do ?”

Freddy stared at him for a moment, trying to decide if he should even do this, but his curiosity—and something else he couldn’t quite put his finger on—pushed him forward. “No, no, it’s simpler than that.” He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “What’s yer favorite kind of music ?”

Eddie blinked, still trying to make sense of everything. But without thinking, they both blurted out at the exact same time, “Rock & Roll and Heavy Metal.”

The words hung in the air for a heartbeat. And then, as if some invisible force had tied them together, both of them spoke the same word at the exact same time.

“F*CK.”

Freddy stared at Eddie, his eyes wide with disbelief. Eddie did the same, his face pale, as the realization hit them both simultaneously.

Eddie stumbled backward, gripping the edge of the table as if the weight of the revelation might knock him over. “No. Nope. This—this is some kind of sick joke, right ?” His voice was shaking, and he looked around as if someone—anyone—might jump out and yell, Gotcha ! But all he saw were the other slashers watching with a mix of confusion and intrigue.

Freddy, for once in his afterlife, was speechless. He opened his mouth, then shut it. Ran a hand over his face, then dragged his claws down his sweater in frustration. He was just as freaked out as Eddie.

Eddie shook his head rapidly. “This—this doesn’t make sense ! You—you’re—you killed kids ! I love kids.” His voice cracked. “How the hell am I your kid ?”

Freddy scowled. “Thanks for the reminder, junior,” he muttered, then let out a long sigh. “Look, I didn’t know, alright ? I was a messed-up bastard, but if I’d known I had a kid out there…” He trailed off, his fingers twitching against his knee. “Hell, I don’t know what I would’ve done.”

Eddie let out a choked laugh, still teetering between horror and hysteria. “Oh, great ! That’s comforting !” He threw his hands up. “I’m the son of a goddamn nightmare demon. That explains so much. No wonder my life’s a goddamn mess.”

Freddy snorted, regaining a bit of his usual cockiness. “Yeah ? Try dying in a fire and coming back as an actual nightmare. That is a mess, kid.”

Eddie groaned and buried his face in his hands. “This is so screwed up.”

Penny, who had been watching the whole thing like it was the greatest soap opera ever written, suddenly clapped his hands together. “Oh, this is wonderful !” he cackled. “Freddy, you have a son !” He gasped dramatically. “That means I’m an uncle ! We are all uncles ! Oh, what a glorious day !”

Eddie shot him a horrified look. “Nope. Absolutely not.”

Pennywise, who had remained silent through all of this, suddenly chuckled. “You do smell alike,” he said, his deep voice rumbling with amusement. “Should have figured it out sooner.”

Freddy groaned, dragging a hand down his face again. “This is a goddamn nightmare. AND YES I KNOW HOW IRONIC THAT SOUNDS !”

Eddie laughed bitterly. “This can’t be happening. This can’t be real.”

The two of them locked eyes, and for the first time, neither had anything sarcastic to say.

Freddy sat there, still stunned, as the door swung shut behind Eddie as the young man left the room in a hurry. The kid had bolted like a bat out of hell, his face pale, his breathing ragged. Freddy barely had time to process the fact that his son had just ran away from him before Pennywise clapped a heavy hand on his shoulder.

“Welcome to parenthood, buddy,” the ancient clown rumbled, his sharp grin widening. “Next stop, Daddy of the Year.”

Freddy snapped out of his daze just enough to shoot Pennywise a glare. “Oh, bite me, Bozo.”

Pennywise only chuckled, clearly reveling in the chaos. “Oh, this is gonna be fun.”

Freddy groaned and slumped back in his chair, rubbing his temples. “Yeah, real fun,” he muttered. “Kid finds out his dad is the most hated ghost in dreamland and takes off. Fantastic start.”

Penny snickered, hopping onto the table and swinging his legs. “You gonna chase after him, Daddy Freddy ?”

Freddy scowled. “First off, NEVER call me that unless we are fuckin’. Second, I—” He hesitated. He wasn’t exactly good at this kind of thing. Hell, he’d spent most of his existence terrorizing people, not comforting them. But something about the way Eddie had looked—panicked, lost—made his gut twist.

Pennywise leaned in close, his voice dripping with amusement. “He’s freaked out, Freddy. Poor boy’s probably questioning his whole existence. And you ? You’re sitting here.” His grin widened, eyes flashing. “What kind of father does that ?”

The bastard. That damn clown was having the time of his life.

Freddy let out a long, frustrated growl. “Fine, fine ! I’ll go after him !” He stood up so fast his chair scraped against the floor. Ignoring the laughter behind him, Freddy stormed out of the room, muttering curses under his breath.

For some reason, you didn't really believe him. But, you had a job to do. You smiled and nodded before getting out of the car. But, you stood up too fast and almost fell forward. However, Lester caught you and grinned as you practically clamped your fingers around his forearms.

"Wah, lady. Don't worry. I'll help ya keep yerself on yer toes." His smile broadened and he came impossibly close to you. You were surprised and instinctively palmed the gun at your belt. His eyes followed the movement and his smile faltered for a second.

"Ah. That explains it." He seemed a lot less amiable all of a sudden and his smile faltered a bit as his grip tightened. "Ya must be here to look for yer buddies, right ?"

"...Buddies ?", you asked—unsure of what he meant by that. He almost dropped you and you could see he was annoyed.

"Yeh. Soldiers. Big guys who came to gettus to sum hospital outta town ?" He clicked his tongue in annoyance and you frowned at his accusation.

"Hum...I'm not here to bring you anywhere. Just...taking a look around and ask you why you keep sending us their heads in a box ?" Lester's grip on you tightened as he almost dragged you to his truck.

"...'Cause ya ain't takin' us three away from home." He then threw you unceremoniously in the passenger seat of his truck and you gulped.

Well, that turned out to be a big dumb decision.

But, headquarters had been adamant on their decision to send you alone. And now...you were trapped. You sighed and hit the back of your head against the rusty metal…It was going to be a long day.

Once you were in town, Lester parked the truck in a garage and humphed unhappily as he saw that it was empty. Bo must have gone for a smoke again. He shook his head disapprovingly. He had told him not to do that again…

"Stay here.", he instructed you before slamming the door shut and locking the truck behind him. He left and you gritted your teeth before trying to get yourself out of the truck by the window. You squeezed your head through and sighed when you realized...you were never going to get your whole body through. Unfortunately, you also realized that you couldn't get your head back in. You let out a loud frustrated groan while trying to wiggle yourself back in...until you heard a voice next to you.

"Well, hello there, ~stranger. Needa hand ?", the stranger that you couldn't see asked. You huffed a humorless laugh before replying sarcastically.

"Ya think ?!"

That made the stranger laugh in return before he appeared at the corner of your eye—a large smile plastered on his face.

"That any way to ask someone fer help ?", he teased while wiping his dirty hands in a rag. You looked him up and down—as much as you could in your current situation—before asking.

"Are you Beauregard Sinclair ?"

His right eye twitched at the name...it had been a while since anyone had called him by his full name. He finally faced you fully and bent down to be at eye level with you. He tilted his head to the side and you could now smell the heavy scent of cigarette—as well as the faint sweet fragrance of bubblegum chewing gum.

"Cleve' one, aintcha ?" he mocked and you repressed the urge to roll your eyes. You both stayed silent, until Bo took a deep breath. He stood up straight and tutted playfully. "Too bad ya got stuck. Could have convinced me ya really were."

You closed your eyes and breathed deeply through your nose to calm yourself. He was playing games with you.

"Are you really going to let me stay like that ?"

He pretended to think about it before shrugging.

"Depends. Are ya gonna tell me why a' here ?", he retorted and you groaned again before replying.

"I already told your brother. I'm here to find out why you've been declining our offer. The hospital would provide everything for you. You'd live like kings. Pampered. You'd be offered a brand new life surrounded by people who understand your problems..."

You realized your poor choice of words too late as the slight amusement in Bo's eyes turned into coldness. It made you shiver as he slowly leaned closer and made sure you hear his next words carefully.

"Who understand our problems, huh ? And pray tell, whata kinda problems are those exactly ?", he emphasized the word problem—as if to pinpoint the exact moment you had signed your death warrant. Your eyes widened and you opened your mouth to answer—but no sound came out. You weren't a damn doctor ! How were you supposed to tell him that he was a psycho murderer without making it sound the way it did ?!

"Listen...I didn't mean to sound judgmental or aggressive...I was just sent to convince you and...", you started.

"Yeh ? Well, yar doin' a terrible job at it.", he cut you off and your jaw twitched. That little...You took another deep inhale before trying to rephrase.

"Listen. I'm sorry. I just..."

"Yeh ? Ya' sorry ? Good fer ya'.", he cut you off again and this time, you glared daggers at him and didn't shy away from his gaze. Enough was enough. He would hear you.

"Listen here—!", you started and Bo immediately pulled out a switch knife from his breast pocket and pressed the sharp edge to your throat.

"I'm listenin'.", he said with a sh*t-eating grin and you closed your eyes. This was going nowhere. He didn't want to listen, and you had been through more than enough...to die here. Your head stuck between the top of some truck door and the window. You stayed silent and even though, your eyes spoke mountains once they opened. If looks could kill ? Bo would be long gone. He could feel your anger and Bo's grin widened.

"Ya a tough one, aintcha sunshine ?"

Most girls he had his knife against their throat usually cried or begged...Oh. He had fun with some of them, telling them he would let them go if they showed him how sorry they were. But, he usually got bored easily. He smiled at the memory of their gruesome deaths and his smile sent shivers down your spine.

"Good. Am gonna have lots of fun with ya fer sure."

You didn't reply to his obvious provocation and Bo whistled appreciatively.

"And she a fast learner too !"

He then retrieved the knife from your throat and replaced it with his hand. He laughed as he saw the way you desperately gasped for air. There was something truly hypnotic about the way a human being would always fight for life. It was instinct. But, Bo never had that instinct.

His mother had once tried to drown him, and he'd have let her. He knew he was born wrong. But, he wouldn't let anyone tell him about his problems—especially not people from some hospital. He had had his fair share of doctors and so-called professionals telling him about what was wrong with him. None of them ever tried to help—or could find a goddamn solution. So, he wouldn't let another one of those useless fuckers tell him about HIS problems. They had no right.

He leaned forward to whisper in your ear.

"I ain't goin' to yer fuckin' hospital. And we ain't ever leavin' Ambrose, got that—ya stupid b*tch ?"

Left with no choice, you complied and nodded. Bo finally released you and left you there—your head still trapped and now spinning. Your last thoughts before blacking out going to your brothers. They must be worried sick. You had promised to call them as soon as you had arrived—and they knew you were of the ponctual type. You closed your eyes and sent them a silent apology.

Looks like you might not be coming back home this time...

A few hours later :

You opened your eyes to find that you had switched location. You were now tied down to a chair with tape on your mouth. You tried to wiggle yourself out—but failed. You could hear voices coming from downstairs. You were far from the door but, you could still make out the voices.

"Bo. She ain't all that bad. Maybe, we can keep this one ? She seems nice enough."

Lester. He seemed to be defending you. He was probably the less violent of all the Sinclairs. He had a very distinctively gentleness to his voice that was lacking in his brother's who replied.

"Yeh. Nice like a goddamn dog about to bite the hand that feeds. Don't be an idiot, Lessy. She's a fuckin' pest—like the rest ev 'em."

You should have known Bo would be difficult to dissuade. He had already held a knife to your throat, you knew the man was just begging for an excuse to get rid of you. To think your salvation came from one of the Sinclair brothers—the one who had brought here in the first place—was laughable. However, you had no choice but hope that Lester was as great at convincing than he was at luring people into Ambrose.

"Come on. Jus' be nice.", he tried again and Bo humphed grumpily in response.

"Ya really too soft, Lessy..."

You then heard a door slam shut and footsteps coming your way. You quickly scooted back and tried to leave as much space as possible between you and the door—just in case it was Bo who had decided to finish the job. Thankfully, it was Lester who came in and looked surprised as he saw you awake. He chuckled awkwardly and rubbed the back of his neck with one hand while the other was holding a plate.

"Ya awake.", he stated.

He then approached you—but stopped when he saw your eyes widen in fear. He stayed a few seconds frozen in place before attempting a reassuring smile.

"Sorry ya 'ed to hear all 'at. Ma brothe' can be one stubborn mule sumtimes..."

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at that. That. He was. Stubborn prick. Lester seemed to find your obvious agreement humorous and he smiled before crouching in front of you.

"But, don' worry. Vince seems te think it's a good idea to keep ya too." He raised his hands to gesture to the tape tightly secured over your mouth. "Am gonna feed ya now. Promise ya won't bite me ?"

You frowned. What was their deal ? Did they think of you as some kind of feral pet ? You shook your head and he smiled weakly before removing the tape of your mouth. He then brought a spoonful of what looked like scrambled eggs to your lips.

"Come on. Open wide.", he instructed and—left with little alternative—you indulged. He seemed happy when you opened your mouth and accepted the food. You chewed slowly and your eyes didn't leave Lester's who shied away first.

"Sorry 'bout kidnapping ya and stuff...Jus' couldn't leave ya when I saw that yer one of those people."

Aww...The kidnapper apologizing for kidnapping you. Wow. Not like he had done it so many times before. But, you'd play along for now.

"It's okay. I understand.", you replied with a weak smile and Lester beamed at you before taking another spoonful and bringing it to you mouth. Soon, you fell into a rhythm and even though you both fell silent—he didn't seem to mind. He kept staring at you and it didn't bother you as much as you thought it would.

"Ya know...I meant it." You frowned in confusion and were about to ask what he was talking about when he scratched his throat and clarified.

"When I said ya pretty."

You stayed inexpressive at first until the corners of your mouth twitched upwards. You attempted a smile that you knew wouldn't be real convincing for anyone else—but it seemed to be enough for Lester who smiled back. But then, he seemed to remember where he was and apologized once more before putting the tape back on your face.

"Not too tight ?", he was courteous enough to ask and even though you knew better than to complain—your eyes said it all. Lester gave you a sympathetic smile. "Yeh. I know it ain't real comfortable. But, don' worry. You'll be allowed out of the room once we sure we can trust ya."

'And when would that be ?' You wanted to ask, but Lester was out of the room in a flash. You were left alone with your thoughts and looked up at the ceiling—counting three spiderwebs. Three spiders. Three brothers.

One fly.

Time lapse :

Lester kept coming to feed you every day after that. Bo didn't seem to want to get involved and the last brother had still not made his appearance. But, it was fine. You were fine with your one-on-one conversations with the youngest Sinclair. Besides, he usually talked about his brothers.

"Vince burned his hand with the wax again. I swear he's doin' it on purpose to annoy Bo.", Lester told you and you both laughed a little. He had been sharing daily stories of him and his brothers. There wasn't any useful information per say, but having another voice was helping keeping you sane. Lester kept feeding you spoon-by-spoon. At this point, you were certain he was doing it more for his personal enjoyment than anything. He then seemed to realize something as he asked next.

"Dya have any siblings ?"

You bit back a laugh at the memory of your brothers. It had been weeks already and you were sure they were now trying to track you down...but you weren't going to say that. Instead, you nodded.

"Three. Morgan is the oldest. A true gentleman. A doctor. Kevin is the second. A little mischievous. But, he can be really funny at times. And Peter...Peter is nice. He is a good little brother. Very skittish sometimes, but also very kind." You smiled and tried not to cry at the memory of your brothers. Lester seemed to notice your sadness as he suddenly seemed very uncomfortable.

"...Ya mus' miss 'em very much." You nodded in confirmation and Lester looked away guiltily before kicking invisible dust off the floor. He removed his hat and ran his fingers through his dirty blond hair.

"Ain't they goin' to come lookin' fer ya ?" You considered lying, but knew it wouldn't make a difference. The Sinclairs would never leave Ambrose willingly. They had made that pretty clear.

"Yes. Knowing my family, they'd be here any day now."

Lester stayed silent for a moment and you tilted your head to observe his expression very closely. He seemed to be thinking hard about something. He suddenly got up and opened his mouth—but reconsidered. He then walked out and you frowned as you heard yelling a few minutes later.

Then, another door slamming and the sound of an engine. The truck left.

You sighed and looked up at the ceiling. You were wondering when your family would come pick you up ?

The next morning :

"Getup, woman. Ya gonna cook for us."

That was your good morning from Bo. You didn't even realize that you were without restrains until Bo nudged your ankle with his foot.

"Hurry up."

You glared up at him, but still got up and walked towards the door. Bo had his shotgun in hand and you knew he wouldn't be afraid to use it.

"What do you want me to do ?", you asked as you arrived in what seemed to be the kitchen.

"Breakfast. Ya women know how to do 'at, right ?", Bo crudely replied before sitting down next to Vincent.

"That is some sexist bullsh*t.", you shot back and it earned you a nasty glare from Bo.

"Yeh ? Too bad."

'Sexist pig.' You thought before looking inside the cupboards. You could probably make some toasts ? You decided to try and smiled as you found a toaster hidden behind a pickle jar. You then proceeded to put some jam on the toasts. Bo picked one up and brought it to his mouth before smirking.

"Not half bad. Looks like you’ll be useful after all !" He then quickly ate his whole plate before standing up and giving a look to Vincent. It meant 'don't leave her out of your sight' and Vincent nodded in agreement. Vincent then took a bite too and finished his plate as well—but in silence.

He kept staring at you all day after that while you walked around. He wouldn't let you out of the house—but that was to be expected. Otherwise, he seemed easy to please and liked it when you did chores. He seemed to be happy when you decided to clean their clothes and his eyes even narrowed as you took the time to give a little attention to the many artistic endeavors displayed on the shelves. He was eager to point to each of his favorites and seemed excited when you gave each one a compliment.

You then waited until Lester or Bo came home before preparing dinner—helped by Vincent of course.

You hence became the official housewife. That was your life now. Lester was rarely seen, but when he came back he usually cooked. It made you realize that maybe the reason you had been made the only cook of the house was because none of the twins knew how to cook. And with your new job came advantages. You could now sleep on a bed (with the door locked of course) and no more restrains for now. At first, you thought weird that Lester didn’t come by as often as he used to—but you assumed he was trying to find victims. Because, that was their way of doing things. Lester would go and fetch. Bo would welcome and kill. And Vincent would turn them into wax dolls for their horror museum. You shivered at the sole thought of that horrible place. You had seen glimpses of it in the files. It wasn’t pretty.

One night, as you were sleeping—you felt two arms wrap around you from behind. You were too scared to move and didn’t—even when you felt the man nuzzle the back of your ear. He took a big breath and then moaned out.

"Mama…"

You closed your eyes shut and held back the tears as the man started holding you closer. You had seen photographs of the Sinclair's mother. You had read their backstories. They all had mommy and daddy issues. It was hard to really identify the voice. But, it oddly sounded like a distorted version of Bo’s. But, it wasn’t him. You were sure of it. The man was never careful about his gestures—whereas the hands travelling your body were soft and gentle. It wasn’t exactly unpleasant…Just awkward. And whoever that was, it wasn’t Lester. So, it only left you with one option.

"…Vincent ?"

He squeezed your hip in reply—as if to confirm. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes once more. There was no use fighting it. Vincent had always been his mother’s favorite and it was only normal he would find you to ressemble the only female figure he ever had in his life. What you found odd however was how he tightened his grip on you and seemed to be a little too…eager.

"Need you..."

Your eyes snapped open as he whimpered those words next to your ear and started grinding against your thigh. Well—shit. That was certainly unexpected. You thought back on a file you had found on some rumour that had never been confirmed about ‘Mama Sinclair’ and how she would often invite younger men into her bed. Had she…?

You felt sick just thinking about it and suddenly turned around to face Vincent who seemed stunned at being caught. You stared each other in the eyes and suddenly, you reached forward for his mask. He seemed to recoil at first—but finally allowed you to. When you removed it, you let out a soft gasp at the tear-filled eyes of Vincent Sinclair. His surgical scar was covering half of his face and made him look like a monster—but his eyes were the ones of a child.

"M'sorry, mama...", he whimpered pathetically and you felt a lump in your throat.

Fuck.

You didn’t know how to react and Vincent mistook your lack of reaction for horror. He humphed unhappily and tried to grab his mask—but you refused. Vincent was obviously upset and if you could gain another Sinclair’s sympathy…you would. You slowly hugged the man and tried to soothe him by petting his head gently.

"It's okay, Vincent...Ssh...You're alright."

It seemed to work as he tightened his hold on you and slowly drifted off to sleep. You also slowly closed your eyes—unaware of the other pair of eyes watching you in the dark.

Bo stared at the both of you for a while before he tsskd—feeling a pang of jealousy in his chest. It was the same when they were little. Vincent would always get all the love and affection. It upset him to see things being the same years later. And, worst part is ? You were taking advantage of it to make his brothers turn against him.

"...Fuckin' b*tch.", he spat hatefully before turning around to leave.

He'd make you regret ever making a fool out of him. He rummaged through the different things Lester had collected over the years from the various people they had killed and—sure enough—he found your bag. He didn't hesitate before looking inside it for anything interesting and frowned as he found a little box with written in neat cursive letter:

To my dearest sister,

From : Your favorite brother.

He opened the box and his eyes widened at the content. He carefully retrieved the emerald bracelet and raised it so he may look at it better in the moonlight. It was really pretty...the type of things mama would have killed for. The diamonds were sparkling and Bo smiled at it. Mama liked pretty things like that.

He closed it around his wrist and was uncharacteristically gentle as he stroked the smooth stones. He admired it, but his smile faded quickly as he realized that the pretty thing was contrasting with his marred skin. His ugly scars. It made him frustrated and even mad. His mama had never ever given him anything but pain, and the only things she ever owned never were as precious as this. He considered giving it back to you in pieces—but reconsidered. He held the jewelry closer to his chest and imagined it was a gift from you. If Vince could cuddle with you and Lester could have your little private meetings—it was only fair he'd have something from you too...right ?

It would only be...fair.

He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth.

It would be unfair if he was the only unwanted one this time around as well, right ?

The next morning :

Bo came into the kitchen and you tried to smile—but it felt very fake. And Bo wasn't fooled. He sat down—sprawled proudly like the bastard he was...waiting for the breakfast you dreamt of dumping on his head. Instead, you placed the plate of pancakes in front of him and—even though he hadn't complained once since you had taken the role of home cook—he seemed disgusted this time around. He stared at the plate for several seconds before asking.

"What the hell is that ?!", he asked rudely and glared at you.

"Pancakes.", you replied shortly and Bo's face flushed as you dared openly provoke him. He threw the plate to the floor and it shattered into pieces. You flinched and the noise alarmed Vincent who came in and looked surprised at the shattered plate. He almost mourned the delicious pancakes.

"DO THEM AGAIN !", Bo yelled—a vein threatening to burst on the side of his forehead.

You sighed and were about to comply—not wishing to fight Bo anymore. But then, you eyes caught the bracelet around his wrist and your eyes widened in shock. You then looked up slowly at Bo and your jaw twitched as you told him with chilling calmness.

"Give. It. Back." You spelled each word carefully—on the brink of rage. You had never tried to hurt any of the Sinclairs before, but you would for that bracelet. It was a gift. The last gift from your brother. The twins seemed surprised by your sudden change in demeanor, but Bo huffed a mocking laugh.

"And what if I don't, heh ? Whatcha gonna do 'bout it ?"

They were taken by surprise when you slowly lowered yourself to the ground to pick up one of the pieces of the broken plate and raised it towards them.

"GIVE IT BACK !"

Suddenly, Bo could feel that he had crossed a line. But, it didn't make a difference. He was still stronger than you, and you both knew it. He stood up and grabbed your arm—forcing you to drop the sharp object. He then dragged you to your old room and ignored all of your pleas as your skin bruised from all the pulling. You desperately tried to get him to let go, but he gritted his teeth and tightened his hold on you.

"Ya can't behave ? Fine. Guess we' back to the 'tied up' gig."

Vincent tried to stop him, but Bo shrugged him off and dragged you back to the attic. He then locked the both of you inside while you could hear Vince whine and pound on the door. But, Bo put his threat into execution and tied you up once more. You tried to fight back and in a moment of madness, you dared kick him in the chin. The both of you were shocked by what had just happened and Bo's jaw twitched. At that moment, every survival instinct in your body screamed at you to do something, before Bo decided you weren't as useful as he thought...

"I'm sorry. I...", you tried to apologize—but Bo didn't leave you a chance to finish. He slapped you.

You were shocked at first at the sensation. As far as you had lived in the house, Bo had never raised a hand on you. There was a significant change in his behavior pattern and you were suspicious it had something to do with what had happened last night.

"That what I get fer listenin' to Lessy's fuckin' advice on leavin' ye b*tch a chance.", he spat spitefully before finishing tying you up—his eyes devoid of any mercy or sympathy.

You had gained the two other Sinclairs over, and you thought it would be enough. But, you had forgotten the biggest threat of them all. Beauregard Sinclair was more than a killer—he liked seeing people suffer. It was an addiction. But, he didn't like to suffer. And you should have known that getting closer to his other two brothers and forgetting about him would be a mistake. It would hurt him.

"Why do you keep me then ? If I'm such a b*tch. Just kill me already.", you finally challenged him—you cheek warming up and your eyes burning. You knew it was risky to ask, but you really wanted to understand. Bo seemed the less inclined to keep you, but he had never dared to go against his two brothers until now. Was he afraid they might turn the backs on him ? If so, you might use it to your advantage. Bo sighed before looking at the floor intensely—as if deep in thought.

"Let me ask ya sumthin', sunshine. Have ya seen any woman around here ?"

Your eyebrows raised in surprise. Well...Since most of the inhabitants were wax people...No. Not really.

"Hum...No ?", you replied after a while and Bo huffed a cruel laugh as he stared down at you. The way he was looking at you made you wish you had thought twice before opening your mouth.

"Exactly. We alone. We men. And we ain't seen a woman in more than 15 years...Ya followin' ma logic' ?"

Realization hit you like a freight train and it was like a bucket of cold ice being thrown at your face. The only reason you were still alive was because you were one of the only women who had stepped foot on Sinclair territory. Lester saw you as some pretty thing, Vincent as the reincarnation of whatever twisted relationship he had with his dead mother and Bo...You didn't want to know what he saw you as. You leaned your head back to scream at the top of your lungs.

"...HELP ! HELP !"

Bo chuckled at your miserable attempt to get help and caught your face with his hand, trapping you within his personal space.

"And she' loud. That' good. We like loud in this family. But, not too much. So, keep yer mouth shut if ya wanna liv', yeh ?", he threatened and you nodded vividly. You just wanted to live. You hadn't done half of the things you wanted to do.

"You're making a huge mistake. They'll come for me, Bo.", you tried to sound threatening—but it came out weak. He didn't know who you were talking about. And truth was ? He probably didn't even care.

"Lettem come. They'll have one hell of a surprise.", he confirmed your hypothesis on his 'no fuck given' mindset. He then slammed the door shut after him and you looked up at the ceiling with tears in your eyes. Your cheek stung from where you had been struck and you felt terrible—but you were still alive. You would take a win where you could.

You stayed in the darkness for hours until the door opened and someone entered. It wasn’t Bo or Vincent, this shadow wasn’t menacing or tall. The presence was almost soothing as you knew it to be friendly.

"…Lester ?", you called out and the shadow stopped dead in its tracks. Suddenly, you were blinded by the blaring light and blinked several times before looking up at Lester. At the sight of your black eye, Lester seemed to pity you and slowly started to stroke the bruised side of your face.

"Oh no...What happened ? Did Bo do this ?", asked—even though he already knew the answer. His lips tightened into a thin line and he wordlessly got out of the room and returned with a wet rag. You hissed when he applied the cold material to the bruise and he apologised in a low muttering. You stayed silent until a tear rolled down your cheek.

"I'm going to die here...", you told him after a while and Lester stopped his ministrations to shake his head.

"Hey hey...Ssh...Ya ain't dyin'. Not on my watch." You knew he was trying to reassure you—but you were tired. You also knew you would come to regret it later, but you snapped.

"HOW THE FUCK WOULD YOU KNOW, HUH ?! YOU LEFT ME HERE ! YOU LEFT ME WITH HIM ! IT'S YOUR FAULT !" He flinched as you started yelling at him—but didn't stop taking care of the swelling. He knew he deserved your painful words. He had left you. But, it was too late now. What was done was done.

"Shoulda been there but, I wasn' 'caus Bo's right. Am too soft." He seemed so vulnerable as he confessed it—it rendered you speechless. Lester was now staring at his hands on his lap and seemed on the brink of tears too as he confessed. "That night when ya told me 'bout yer brothes'...I wanted to release ya. Bo told me I was bein' an idiot...maybe he right. Maybe, am jus' an idiot."

You wanted to be mad at him. Tell him that he was right. Hurt him like they hurt you...but, Lester seemed so pathetic. You realized you couldn't.

He made you think of Peter.

"You're not...an idiot. He is. You kidnapped me, remember ?", you tried to smile—but it hurt your cheeks by how fake it was. You weren't happy, but something about Lester made you pity him. Lester seemed surprised as you tried to comfort him and offered you a crooked smile of his own.

The pitiful sight he was offering made you heart skip a beat for some reason.

And then, you kissed him.

You were taken by a sudden urge of madness that made you lean forward and kiss the man. There was no real goal or reason. There wasn't any hidden intent. You just...wanted to feel less alone.

"W...What did ya do that fer ?", he asked when you pulled away—dumbfounded.

You shrugged in response.

Between Bo and Vincent, you really didn't have a chance at convincing them of letting you go...but, Lester...Lester was different. He had tried to help you, and you would get allies wherever you could get them.

Until your brothers arrived that was.

Lester stayed frozen for a few seconds before it seemed to dawn on him what had just happened. His ears and cheeks suddenly flushed red and he grinned from ear to ear. He didn't really know why you had done it, but he was happy to have had his first kiss with an actual woman. He had arrived to a point where he thought he would have to use one of Vincent's pieces of art as practice...He giggled to himself before looking up at the sky. Even his ma had told him that he would never find a woman. Well, he did find one.

He then looked around and frowned as he realized you were back in the attic. He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair before looking back up at you. He then pondered if he should move you ? Bo had locked you up, but he felt bad leaving you up there for the night.

He then took a decision and decided to untie you. He was afraid you might try to escape—but you were strangely docile. You knew you were surrounded by a forest that ran far beyond what you could see. And the Sinclairs knew the forest better than anyone. It would only be a matter of time before any of them caught up with you.

Lester lead you to the bedroom you had been staying in on Bo's good days. And then, something clicked as you saw something you had failed to noticed before...the sweet smell. Your bedroom smelt like old cheap perfume and something else—something rotten. And there were multiple pictures of Bo and Vincent in the room—but none of Lester.

You knew who that room belonged to now.

"It was your mother's.", you voiced your conclusion out loud and Lester stopped dead in his tracks before nodding slowly.

"Yeh. It was."

There was a certain bitterness in the way he had said that. Bo and Vincent seemed to worship their parents...but, you handy heard Lester talk about them once. There was also no recording whatsoever of their relationship.

It was like...he had never existed for them.

You opened your mouth to ask—but one look from him and you knew better than to go through with it. He lead you to the bed and—much like Vincent—started cuddling you. But, you knew he didn't see anyone else but you at that moment. It wasn't like Vincent who saw you as his 'mama' or Bo who seemed to hate your guts just for reminding him of her...He held you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

It made you unconsciously smile and you finally closed your eyes. You both fell asleep in each other's arms.

In the morning :

Bo joined Vincent in the kitchen and almost spit out his coffee at the sight of three men in the street. He frowned and remembered your earlier discussion.

You said they would come.

"Well, I'd be damned ! The b*tch was right. Those idiots came.", Bo said with a mixture of surprise and amusement as he spied the men from the window. From where he was standing, those three kids would barely qualify as a threat. They looked like church boys on their way to Sunday mass. He chuckled and shook his head slowly before grabbing his shotgun.

"Ready to defend our home, Vince ? We goin' to have some fun.", he grinned widely before running upstairs. Time to greet their guests with the proper welcome they were due…

"LESSY ! GET YER BUTT OVER HERE !" You heard Bo’s lovely voice calling Lester from downstairs and he almost fell off the bed. When Bo barged in and spotted the two of you together—he saw red.

"REALLY, LESSY ?! REALLY ?!" He took Lester by the ear and dragged him out of the bedroom. He then told Vince to stay and watch over you—which he agreed to. You walked to the window and smiled as you saw the three familiar figures.

They were so screwed now.

Outside :

"So...That is the infamous Ambrose ? Not going to lie. It is far less impressive than I thought. I am disappointed.", Morgan stated while looking disdainfully at the little houses all glued together by dust and dirt.

"We're not here for tourism, Mo'. Besides, there are plenty of spider webs and you know how much I don't like spiders...", Peter replied while dusting his shoulders for the third time since they had entered the town.

"AND I'VE BEEN ATTACKED BY AT LEAST 50 MOSQUITOES SINCE WE ENTERED THIS DAMN FOREST !", Kevin complained loudly behind them before slapping dead the mosquito that had had the misfortune of landing on his arm.

Morgan rolled his eyes in response and deplored his brothers' lack of appreciation for Mother Nature.

"You savages should learn to appreciate your surroundings. Besides, remember why we're here. Y/N was spotted around those parts."

Suddenly, Bo got out of the house and all the Hannibal Brothers' eyes were suddenly on him.

"Heya strangers ! Welcome to Ambrose !", he welcomed them with a huge grin—but shadow of his cap his his eyes from view. Morgan frowned suspiciously.

"Hello there. We were wondering if you wouldn’t have seen our sister around here recently ? Tall/Short/Average height. Blond/Brunette/Dark-haired. Curly/Wavy/Straight hair. E/C.", he asked and Bo pretended to think about it for a moment before shaking his head.

"Nop’. Sorry. Ain’t ringin’ any bells. Besides, we ain't gettin' many visitors around those parts.", he replied—but Morgan wasn't convinced. Kevin snorted rather rudely beside him before snickering.

"Yeah...Really surprising."

Peter smiled and Morgan glared at the both of them before returning his attention on the man.

"I see. Thank you for your help."

Bo tilted his head in acknowledgement and nodded shortly.

"No prob'. Hope ya do find her." He raised his hand to bide them farewell—unexpecting it when a knife was suddenly throw at him and pierced his hand.

"SON OF A BITCH !", he shouted loudly before taking cover behind his truck. Bo took a deep breath before slowly looking in the review mirror. It was the oldest one that had thrown the knife, and by the look on his face ? The kid was damn not regretting it. He shook his head before pulling the knife out and bandaging the wound with his handkerchief. He then sighed heavily before letting his curiosity get the best of him.

"What gave me away ?", he asked and Morgan took a moment before finally replying.

"…The bracelet you are wearing. I gave it to her." Bo chuckled to himself as he looked at the bracelet around his wrist. Perceptive kid...

"Ya know ya ain’t leavin’ this town alive, right ?", he told them and was answered by Kevin's snicker and the sound of a gun being loaded.

"…We’ll see about that.", Morgan simply replied as he got out another knife from underneath his lapel coat. Kevin smirked as he knew what was about to go down and took out his bow and arrows. Peter had his gun pointed towards Bo's truck and at that moment, they all unconsciously smiled.

Kevin Hannibal Lecter:

Kevin was a wanted fugitive, his face had ran on TV for years and you knew better than to ask what had really happened. You doubted it would your opinion on him—but you loved him too much to say anything.

Until one day, his past came knocking at your door.

Two FBI agents were standing there and asked you to follow them. You frowned, but complied nonetheless. You were then brought to the precinct and interrogated there.

"Do you know this man ?" You looked at the picture of Kevin and but back a laugh. They clearly hadn’t taken his good side.

"Nope. Never seen that guy in my life." You replied confidently and one of the agents frowned.

"Are you sure ? Could you take another look, please ? That man is responsible for the deaths of many people. It would really be great to catch him before he makes another victim…"

You almost snorted. What did you look like ? A snitch ? An idiot ? Was it written 'community service' on your forehead ? Were they expecting you to do their job ?

"Nah. Ain’t never seen that bastard in my life. Hope you catch him though. All my good wishes to you…" And with that, you were gone.

On your way back home, you sat down on a bench and sighed. Deep down, you knew it was wrong and that Kevin was probably not a good guy and deserved to rot in jail…But, you couldn’t. You simply couldn’t set yourself on condemning him. Because, you loved him.

You were momentarily startled when someone suddenly sat down next to you and hugged you tightly.

"I knew it ! I knew that the family was wrong to doubt you ! Come here, babe."

Kevin kissed you deeply and you were momentarily stunned by his eagerness before responding in kind.

Yeah…You knew he wasn’t a good guy. But, honestly ? Did it really matter ? He was good to you.

Peter Hannibal Lecter :

When the agents showed you Peter’s picture, you almost broke face as you noticed his innocent carefree smile. He seemed so happy. Such a lovely picture…You wished he could still smile at you like this. But, his smile wasn’t the same now…You held back your tears as you looked up at the agents.

"I am sorry. Who is this ?"

The agents looked at each other before sighing.

"We received a call telling us that this individual has been spotted around your neighbourhood not too long ago. Have you seen him recently ?"

You leaned forward and pretended to think about it before offering an apologetic smile to the officers. Peter was not someone you could snitch on. He was your precious little man and you would never betray him.

"No, sir. I am afraid I have never seen this man before…"

The agents didn’t seem to really believe you, but they had no reason to keep you and they had many other neighbours to interrogate. But, there was something about your smile that made them suspicious of you. They suspected that your innocence was but a façade…But, they finally released you.

You went back home and the moment the door was closed, you felt his arms wrap around you and pin you to the door.

"P-Peter ?" You asked. He didn’t answer. He only bent down and picked you up before kissing you passionately. His family had warned him, told him you would betray him at the first opportunity. They had told him you didn’t really love him. But, here you were…back into his arms. And now, he was certain you were loyal to him and he couldn’t wait to show you how much he loved you.

"I am never letting you out of my sight again."

Hannibal Jr. Lecter :

There was no questioning your loyalty to Hannibal Jr. Lecter. No one would be foolish enough to attack him anyway. He had them all in the palm of his hand. But, what you both hadn’t expected was for the police department to go after you. They couldn’t go after the Hannibal family, but they could go after you. You had more than once helped Hannibal Jr. get rid of the bodies and one time…You were caught.

You both tried to run. But, there was nowhere to run. You were cornered on a pier and with no way out. You both knew you going to get caught and that one of you were gonna take the fall.

"This is it, my love."

He said before pulling you into a tight hug and kissing the top of your head. He could see the police cars surrounding the both of you and suddenly held you in a head lock with a knife against your throat. Anyone else would take it as betraying, but not you. You knew there were no other way.

"…I would die for you." You said and looked him in the eyes with nothing but pure adoration in your gaze.

"I know, my darling. I know." He replied before kissing your temple lovingly as the sound of police sirens and angry shouts started blaring around you. But, you could only see or hear Hannibal as he said.

"I love you."

And in a matter of seconds, he had pushed you out of the way and into the water.

"NOOOO !" You screamed and tried to get back to him, but it was too late. Bullets started flying and before you knew it, he was on the ground. You swam as fast as you possibly could and he started crawling towards you with his hand outstretched as you quickly grabbed it.

"Why, my love ? Why ?" You asked—your tears mixing with the salty water slowly rolling down your cheeks—and he replied with a bloody smile.

"I had to. I cannot let you pay for my crimes. I won’t let another loved one be punished for my sake. I have lost…too much."

He had lost all his past lovers. For once, Hannibal Jr. would save one instead of protecting himself or his so-called family honour. And even as he was grabbed by the police and he was dragged away from you. Even as you screamed and shouted for them to let him go, he was smiling. At least…He had finally managed to save one.

Hannibal Sr. Lecter :

You denied all of the agents’ calls. You knew what would happen to you. You didn’t even show up when they asked you to come to the precinct. And even the idea of testifying against Hannibal Sr. in Court made your legs wobble in fear.

You couldn’t do it.

Finally, on the day of the trial, one of the FBI agents came to his cell and asked.

"We called. We searched. We tried everything to make Mr./Mrs. L/N testify against you. But, so far no luck. She/He is simply TERRIFIED of you. What have you done to them, you sadistic fuck ?"

Hannibal Sr. only smirked knowingly as he licked his thumb to change pages in his book before shrugging.

"You thought she/he would betray me ? Oh poor naive FBI agent." Hannibal Sr. grinned before looking up at the FBI agent with a knowing gleam in his eyes. "My wife/husband is no snitch. I trained her/him better than that."

True devotion. He had spent years drilling his values into your skull. You wouldn’t break, because Hannibal Sr. had broken you first. It was the reason you were his spouse. He had educated and tamed you so well that the sole notion of conscience had been stripped away from you. You lived for him. You breathed for him. And he knew that you had become so dependent on him that you would NEVER betray him. He had made sure of that.

He hummed quietly to himself before returning to his reading—unbothered. He would soon be with you again. He couldn’t wait. He couldn’t wait to make you scream his name so loud that you wouldn’t even dare speak up again….

He turned another page with a malicious smirk.

When Kevin Hannibal met Eddie Gluskin, he walked into the room with the same easygoing confidence that had drawn you to him in the first place. With his dark hair slightly disheveled and his casual, almost careless posture, Kevin radiated a kind of laid-back energy that usually made everyone around him feel at ease. He flashed a grin as he held out his hand.

"So, you must be the dad, huh ? Heard a lot about you," Kevin said, his Australian accent rolling off his tongue in a way that made his tone sound playful.

Eddie didn’t return the smile. His cold, blue eyes met Kevin’s with an intensity that seemed to cut through the room. He didn’t shake Kevin’s hand, instead letting it hang there awkwardly in the air for a moment before Kevin withdrew it, unbothered. Eddie’s face was calm, calculated, but his eyes…His eyes were piercing, the kind of gaze that made you feel like you were being dissected.

"Kevin Hannibal," Eddie repeated slowly, the name like a bitter taste in his mouth. He studied Kevin for a moment longer, then his lips curled into a thin, almost patronizing smile. "And what exactly is it that you do, Kevin ?"

Kevin shrugged, leaning against the back of a chair. "I’m an artist, mate. Bit of painting, sculpting…y’know, whatever strikes me. Pretty good at it too, if I say so myself." He shot you a wink, trying to lighten the tension that was thick in the room.

Eddie’s gaze flickered to you, then back to Kevin, as if weighing his words carefully. "An artist," he murmured. "I see." His voice was smooth, but there was something behind it, something unnerving. "And what exactly do you think you can offer my daughter ? Surely, it’s not just...paint and clay."

Kevin chuckled, leaning back with a smirk. "Mate, I’m not trying to sell you on anything. Your daughter and I ? We’re happy. She doesn’t need anything more than that."

The casual nature of Kevin’s response didn’t sit well with Eddie. Not at all. Eddie was a man who believed in control, in devotion—complete devotion. And the way Kevin spoke, the way he carried himself, was far too relaxed. Far too easygoing for Eddie’s taste. His smile faded as he took a step forward, his voice lowering, though no less calm.

"Happiness is fleeting, young man," Eddie said softly. "It’s a fragile thing. And people like us… we know how easily it can be destroyed." He let the words hang in the air for a moment before continuing. "You see, I believe in something far more permanent. Something stronger than happiness. Family."

Kevin’s eyes narrowed just slightly, but he kept his smirk in place. "Yeah, I get that. Family’s important. But don’t worry about us, mate. We’re doing just fine."

Eddie tilted his head slightly, his gaze never leaving Kevin’s. "Are you, really ? You know, family requires more than just a few laughs and smiles. It requires sacrifice. It requires understanding. And protection." His voice grew quieter, more dangerous. "Are you truly capable of protecting her ? Of doing what needs to be done to keep her safe ?"

Kevin’s smile faltered for the first time, and the room grew colder. He crossed his arms, his playful tone replaced with something more serious. "I’m not sure what kind of protection you’re talking about, but I’m not going anywhere. She’s safe with me. You don’t need to worry about that."

Eddie’s lips twitched into a humorless smile. "I don’t think you understand, Kevin. People like us—you and me—we know how the world works. The things it can take from us. I just wonder if you have the stomach for it."

There was a pause, and Kevin’s eyes darkened as he finally understood the deeper meaning behind Eddie’s words. "If you’re talking about what I think you’re talking about,"Kevin said slowly, "then yeah. I can handle it." He leaned in slightly, his tone turning more defensive. "Look, mate, I know what’s out there. I know what we do—what my family does. And I ain’t gonna force her into anything. I’m not afraid to do what needs to be done for her. But she’s happy with me, and I’m not letting anything happen to her. So why don’t we cut this whole ‘overprotective dad’ thing and call it what it is ? A pissing contest. You’re just pissed that your daughter has another man in her life. Makes her less easy to manipulate and control. But, let me remind you…Father of the year. You were absent for more than 20 years. Me and her ? We go way back. I have known her for even longer than you have. I have protected her. I have watched over her. Heck, at this point, she might as well start calling me Daddy."

Kevin smirked boyishly at the playful jab he had thrown back and Eddie’s eyes sharpened, and for a moment, his smile turned into something more sinister. "Oh, Kevin," he said softly, his voice almost a whisper. "This is no contest. I’m simply reminding you that no matter how much you think you care for her, I will always protect her in ways you can’t imagine. You may think you’re enough, but family…real family…is more than just protection. It’s control. It’s sacrifice. And it’s about knowing how far you’re willing to go."

Kevin’s jaw tightened. "I’d do anything for her."

Eddie suddenly took Kevin by the collar and yanked him so close that their eyes were inches apart. He wanted to see fear in that boy’s eyes. Maybe then, he’d understand. But when his blue eyes met Kevin’s dark ones, he only saw that same infuriating amusement…hiding his true feelings and emotions from sight…

"Dad !" You screamed in alarm and tried to get him off Kevin—but Eddie didn’t spare you a glance as he kept staring at the boy. Barely a man. Pretending to love his daughter better than he could…That weak pale and sickly-looking boy. That nothing. That nothing dared challenge him ? Eddie’s gaze lingered on Kevin for a long moment, as if testing the truth of his earlier words. Would that boy be capable of handling his daughter and protecting her from the world ? Their eyes stayed wide open as they observed each other closely. Then Eddie smiled—a smile that sent a chill down your spine. "Good," he whispered. "Because you’ll have to. One day, you’ll see."

He then released Kevin who took a step back. Eddie looked down on him with nothing but pure disdain. That weakling…

"You say you can protect her, young man ? How could you ever protect her when you are so weak you can’t even stay on your own two feet ?" He spat. He then walked away without saying another word. The conversation ended, Eddie had said what he needed to say, and Kevin gritted his teeth. That asshole !

After Eddie left, the air in the room felt heavy, the tension clinging like a thick fog. You glanced at Kevin, unsure of what to say. He was standing where Eddie had left him, his jaw tight, his hands balled into fists at his sides. The playful smirk was gone, replaced by a hardened expression you didn’t see often.

"Kevin…" You started, taking a tentative step toward him.

He blinked, seeming to come out of his thoughts, and turned his gaze to you. He gave a strained chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well…that went better than I thought."

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. "Better than you thought ? He just threatened you."

"Yeah, I noticed that, princess." Kevin’s lips twitched, the Aussie humor kicking in as he tried to brush off what had just happened. But you could see it—the tension still simmering beneath the surface. "Your old man’s got a bit of a temper, doesn’t he ?"

You sighed, stepping closer and resting a hand on his arm. "You didn’t have to provoke him like that."

Kevin let out a sharp breath through his nose. "I wasn’t gonna stand there and let him destroy whatever good thing we got going on." His dark eyes met yours, the humor slipping away again. "I know he’s your father, but he doesn’t get to waltz in here after twenty-something years and think he owns you."

You knew Kevin had a point. Eddie had barely been a part of your life, and now he showed up, acting like he could dictate your relationships. But still…there was something unsettling about the way Eddie had looked at Kevin, the cold calculation in his eyes. You knew Eddie was protective in a twisted, possessive way, and it made you uneasy.

"He’s…" You trailed off, unsure of how to explain your father to Kevin. How could you ? Eddie wasn’t someone you could easily describe. He was obsessive, controlling, and yes, dangerous. But he was also your father.

Kevin sighed and offered you a weak smile.

"Hey. I get it,” Kevin said, softer now. He placed a hand over yours. "Family, right ? It’s complicated. Trust me, my family’s no walk in the park either." He chuckled bitterly. "You’ve met Hannibal Sr. You know what I mean."

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. Kevin’s family—the Hannibals—were just as twisted, just as complicated. Hannibal Sr, the father figure to Kevin, was cold and calculated, much like Eddie, but in a different way. Where Eddie’s protectiveness came from a place of obsessive love, Hannibal Sr’s protectiveness came from control, logic, and detachment. It was almost eerie how similar they were, though they didn’t even know each other.

"Eddie and Hannibal Sr." you muttered, shaking your head—a small smile playing on your lips. "They’d get along disturbingly well."

Kevin snorted. "Yeah, well, that’s the last thing we need. Two control freaks plotting over our relationship. I’d never hear the end of it."

You both shared a brief laugh, but it didn’t quite erase the lingering tension. Kevin’s gaze softened as he looked at you, his hand moving to cup your cheek.

"I meant what I said," he murmured, his tone serious now. "I’d do anything for you. I don’t care what your dad thinks, or what he threatens. You’re mine. And I’m not letting him take that from us."

Your heart swelled at his words, and you leaned into his touch. "I know. And I’m not letting him take you from me either."

Kevin’s lips brushed your forehead, lingering there for a moment before he pulled back. His expression was still tense, but there was a fire in his eyes now, a determination that reassured you.

"I don’t care how many ‘fathers’ come out of the woodwork, princess," Kevin said, his voice firm. "I’m not scared of him. Not of anyone. He’ll learn that real quick."

You gave him a small, grateful smile. But deep down, you couldn’t help but worry. Eddie Gluskin wasn’t someone to underestimate. And now that he knew about Kevin, you knew he wouldn’t just sit back and let this go.

"I’ll talk to him," you said softly, almost more to yourself than to Kevin. "I’ll make him understand."

Kevin nodded, but the look in his eyes told you he wasn’t convinced. "Just be careful. That bastard knows how to play fiddle all too well. Don’t let him get into your head."

You sighed, knowing Kevin was right. "I will."