#chapter twenty-five

mob boss! lando norris x reader

part twenty-five: here in spirit

word count: 4.1k (sorry, i tried to make it shorter)

warnings: mentions of drugs, allusions of drugs being used without consent, allusions of coerced sex work, unwanted touch/harassment

twenty-four | twenty-five | twenty-six

The air in São Paulo was thick with humidity and the smell of gasoline and hot pavement, a constant buzz of life thrumming through the streets even as the sun began to dip behind the skyline. Lando sat at the back of the dimly lit lounge, a glass of whiskey in front of him, untouched. The place reeked of sweat and old cigars, the walls lined with dark wood and overpriced liquor. Clearly, he wasn’t here for the ambiance.

Lando had never understood why men like Piquet insisted on doing business in places like this—dark, overpriced lounges filled with cigar smoke and half-dressed women clinging to men with more money than morals. It was all a show, an ego trip. A way to remind everyone who was in control.

“You Monte-Carlo boys,” Piquet said, slouching back in his booth with a smirk. He swirled his whiskey, letting the ice clink against the glass. “Always think you’re the smartest in the room.”

Lando didn’t bother responding. He just took a sip of his own drink—untouched until now, because he trusted the alcohol here about as much as he trusted the man across from him.

Chapter 25: Put Your Trust in the Light That You Cannot See

Notes:

Happy Easter to those that celebrate it, and happy Sunday to those that don't! TW: attempted suicide. The attempt doesn't get carried out, but he does try. Also, continued discussion of aftermath of possession and what that can do to a person's mental state, etc. (ps: 'He' is not who you think it is) Chapter title from Where the Shadow Ends by BANNERS

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

It’s three days later, three days of grueling exercise to regain mobility and stamina, three days of intense boredom and for once wishing to be anywhere but home, that Katherine finally agrees to let him visit the Grimlands. It’s all Scott can do not to throw his hands up in celebration.

“The rules I set out before still stand,” she insists, but her eyes look lack-lustre, like she’s lost something and doesn’t know how to get it back. Scott wants to ask if she’s okay, but decides not to pry for once and let her figure out what’s going on before making her spill.

“That’s fine,” Scott says, forcing himself to stand on aching limbs, and stretches, trying not to wince as his muscles scream at him. He’s been practising walking and he’s almost regretting it, but he also knows if he hadn’t been practising, Katherine wouldn’t be letting him go.

From the stairwell, Jimmy sighs and crosses his arms. “This isn’t going to end well.”

Scott musters a glare in his direction, but it fades quickly, and he lets his shoulders slump ever so slightly. “Maybe not, but as I’ve said, I need to do this.”

“Why?” Jimmy asks, but he doesn’t sound exasperated or anything. He just sounds curious, a tilt of his head helping to get his meaning across.

Scott hesitates for a long moment, trying to come up with an answer that makes sense. “I just… I guess I feel responsible. Not for all the destruction, I know that wasn’t entirely my fault, but for not visiting sooner. He’s my friend—they all are. I can’t let them think I’ve forgotten or have better things to do or anything like that.”

Katherine purses her lips. “They don’t think that, Scott, I can promise you that. They know you were hurt, and you need to recover; they’ll understand if it takes you a while to be able to visit.”

“I know that here,” he says, tapping the side of his head, “but here…” this time he taps his chest, indicating his heart, and lets his voice trail off.

Jimmy comes over to him almost immediately, and cautiously, like he’s expecting to be batted away, puts a hand on Scott’s shoulder. “I get it. I do. I just… I’m worried that you won’t like what you see.”

“Are they all alive?” Scott asks even though he knows the answer, and at Jimmy’s nod, he adds, “Then that’s enough for me. I’m going to see them, Jimmy.”

Jimmy sighs again. “Fine. Okay. Let’s do this.”

The other two hover as Scott makes his way down the stairs and out onto the green mountainside. It’s strange, seeing Rivendell filled with people and colour again; he’s spent so long thinking that he’d never see it as anything but eternally winter-bound slopes that seeing it lush and full of life now is… jarring to say the least.

A few people are milling around between the embassies, and he sees the relief on their faces as they spot him, even from this distance. He manages a small smile and a wave to acknowledge them.

It’s good to see the people again. He’d feared that they were all killed either by Exor’s wrath or his own inability to control the gifts Aeor had given him, but no, they’d all seen the signs of a coming battle and had fled, some to the Crystal Cliffs, but most to the Overgrown.

The path they had taken is actually under repair, Scott can see, and though he didn’t give the approval for the change, he knows Katherine probably did, so he has no problem with it, especially seeing it paved with stones dyed the cyan, white, and gold of Rivendell, and the reds, pinks, oranges, and greens of the Overgrown. It’s a fitting tribute to the road that literally brings the two empires together.

Katherine nudges him, and he looks back at his companions in time to accept the rockets Jimmy is handing him before it gets awkward. Katherine takes off first, using a rocket to help her delicate wings give her altitude, and Scott, after a deep breath, follows her.

His wings ache, it’s been so long since he’s used them. His icy pair had been more of a set of elytra than the powerful snow owl’s wings he’s grown up with, so he’s become used to gliding rather than actually flapping his wings and truly flying. So he’s using muscles that have long since atrophied, and for all that he’s been exercising, it hasn’t really prepared him for the strain flying has on his wings, back, and shoulders.

He only uses the rockets once he gets to an altitude he can glide at, then he deploys them liberally to boost himself forward. As much as it adds to the strain on his wings, it also reduces the amount of time and effort he has to put into flying to get to where he needs to go, and he’ll take that over a minor decrease in stress to his wings.

Still, by the time the plains of the Grimlands come into view, Scott is having to grit his teeth to keep back the exclamation of pain as his wings strain to keep him aloft. Finally, he can’t go any further, and he swoops down to the ground, landing so he can catch his breath.

Jimmy and Katherine land next to him immediately, and Jimmy shakes his head. “I told you this was a bad idea.”

Scott waves him and Katherine off, even as he sinks to the ground, crossing his legs and slumping forward. “I’m okay, I just need a break.” Katherine and Jimmy share a look over his head, and he scowls. “No, really, I’m fine, I just need a quick break. Besides, we’re almost there.”

Both of the others sigh, almost in perfect unison, and Katherine covers her face with a hand for a moment before straightening. “Okay, okay. But if you’re not feeling up to flying in the next fifteen minutes, I’m sending Jimmy ahead to get some horses from the Grimlands’ stables.”

Scott’s head snaps up. “Oh, no, that won’t be necessary.” He really prays it isn’t. The standard horse from the Grimlands is quite literally skeletal; riding one is uncomfortable at best and downright agony at worst. It’s a threat from Katherine and they all know it.

So he makes sure he’s caught his breath within five minutes, stretched out his wings within seven, and on his feet within ten. “Okay, I’m ready.”

Jimmy and Katherine both give him skeptical looks, but he ignores them, braces, and takes off, giving them no choice but to follow. It’s painful, but he feels better than he had, so he’ll take that as a win.

Even traveling by flight, the remainder of the journey takes the better part of two hours, and Scott is sweating and shaking like a leaf by the time Eastvale comes into view. He’s so tired he wants to collapse, but he keeps going anyway, coming in to land on the path going up to the manor.

The guards outside startle at his, Jimmy’s, and Katherine’s landings, but they quickly rush forward and help Scott stay upright until Jimmy can loop an arm around his waist and drag Scott’s own arm over his shoulder.

“I told you,” Jimmy mutters, and Scott sighs. He’d probably been right, but Scott is nothing if not stubborn, and besides, he has to know.

Katherine sighs, thanks the guards, then leads the way into the manor. “I’ll go tell Gem we’re here, but you are going straight to bed. There’s a room a few doors down from fWhip’s, that one should be available. C’mon, this way.”

She ushers them through the throne room and up a staircase, then opens a door on their left. “Here. Jimmy, get him settled?” Without waiting for a reply, she heads off further down the hall, ducking into a room on the far side without so much as knocking.

Jimmy sighs and looks up at the ceiling, as if asking it for guidance, before turning back to Scott and mustering a grin. “C’mon, let’s get you in bed.”

Scott nods half-heartedly, and lets Jimmy guide him over to the bed, where he all but collapses. Aeor, but lying down feels good. he’s so tired he doesn’t care that he’s still got his boots on, or that he’s face-down on the feather mattress, making breathing difficult.

Jimmy sighs again and starts wrestling his boots off. “Really, Scott, if you were this tired we could have stopped for a longer break.”

“Katherine threatened to get horses for the Grimlands, remember?” Scott says, his voice muffled by the bed coverings, and Jimmy stops what he’s doing. Scott can’t see him, but he can only imagine that he’s tilting his head to the side in confusion.

“What was that?”

Scott groans and lifts his head enough to get out, “Katherine threatened to get horses, remember?”

Another sigh. Scott wonders if Jimmy’s doing alright, because he’s been doing that a lot lately. “True. But we could have taken more breaks, given you time to rest.”

Scott grimaces, rolling over onto his back and wincing when it pins his wings at an awkward angle. He doesn’t say anything for a minute, just watches and listens as Jimmy sets his boots aside and grabs a pillow, throwing it at Scott’s head. Scott doesn’t have the energy to catch it or throw it back, so instead he drags it under his head and sighs in relief.

Stretching, he rolls over onto his side and curls up ever so slightly. Without his consent, his eyes slip closed, only to snap open a moment later when something touches his wings. He looks up, surprised to see Jimmy sitting on the bed next to him, a hand in his feathers.

“Sorry, i just…” Jimmy gestures vaguely at Scott’s wings. “They look a little worse for wear.”

Scott glances at his wings and purses his lips. They really are worse for wear, and ordinarily he’d preen them into place, but he’s so tired and the thought of reaching behind him to put the feathers back into the proper places makes his arms ache. But letting anyone touch his wings, set them to rights, that’s incredibly intimate. The last time he’d let anyone do it, it had been his mother.

But at the same time, this is Jimmy. If he can’t be vulnerable around him, then who can he be vulnerable around?

So with a heavy sigh, he rolls back over and relaxes his wings, giving Jimmy access. There’s a long moment where neither of them move, then Jimmy tentatively reaches out again and straightens some of his auxiliary feathers, smoothing them into place. Scott’s shoulders drop, and he lets his eyes close again.

“What’s this?” Jimmy’s voice startles him out of a doze, and he sits up, turning to see Jimmy holding the dim red crystal that had been Xornoth’s prison.

Realising it must have fallen out of his pocket at some point while he was lying down, he makes to grab it back, and Jimmy yanks it away. “Give it back, Jimmy.”

“Why do you have this still?” Jimmy asks, looking and sounding worried.

Scott manages to grab it from Jimmy and holds it close, inspecting it quickly for any damage. He knows it’s magical, and thus likely can’t be broken or even scratched, but he’s a little paranoid. It’s all that’s left of his family; he thinks he can be forgiven for worrying.

“Scott…”

It takes a moment, but he finds his voice, though he doesn’t look up at Jimmy. “If it was Lizzie, would you be able to let go of the memories?”

He can hear Jimmy’s frown. “I thought you didn’t remember him.”

“I didn’t,” Scott says, “not until Aeor died.” Jimmy inhales sharply as he puts the pieces together, and Scott nods. “Exactly. I… Aeor, Jimmy, I’m so confused. I want to hate them—all of them—but I can’t. Even Exor. I look at him and I see the brother I lost, I look at Aeor and I see myself. And Xornoth…”

Jimmy is silent for a long moment, then sighs. “I guess I understand. I just don’t understand why you brought it here.”

Scott doesn’t answer at first. It’s not like he can tell Jimmy the truth, so instead, he eventually lowers his hands down to his lap and nearly falls over, he slumps so much. “If it were Lizzie…”

He sees Jimmy nod out of the corner of his eye, then force a smile. “I think I’d have to fight Joel for custody of it.”

That startles a laugh out of Scott, and he lays back down on his back, clutching the crystal to his chest. “That’d be hilarious.”

“Maybe for you,” Jimmy mutters, then starts smoothing the feathers back into place again.

Scott hums, letting the quiet intimacy of the moment soothe something jagged in his soul. Without meaning to, he falls asleep.

______

Gem startles when the door bangs open, and whirls around, hand on the hilt of her sword, only to relax when she sees Katherine striding toward the nearest unoccupied chair.

Next to her, Pearl stares. “What are you doing here? I thought you were staying with Scott?”

“I am,” Katherine grumbles, and Gem raises an eyebrow.

“Scott’s here?”

Katherine nods. “He insisted. I set up a few rules, and he’s agreed to them—”

“How’d you manage that?” Pearl wonders aloud, but Katherine ignores her.

“—but he wore himself out on the flight over here, so he’s sleeping—or he should be, at any rate. Jimmy’s with him to make sure he does as he’s told.”

Gem manages a smile, reaches over to the bedside table, and pours a glass of water for Katherine, who takes it with a small but grateful smile. As she tosses it back in one big gulp like it’s a drink of alcohol, Pearl sighs.

“Well, if you’re looking for good news, I’m afraid we’re fresh out. He’s awake… we think… but he doesn’t respond to anything. Not Gem, not me, not Sausage. Not even light. He doesn’t flinch or even blink. It’s…”

“It’s like he’s a living, breathing corpse,” Katherine finishes, and they both flinch. She grimaces. “Sorry. But after what you described happening in the Nether, are we really surprised?”

“He’s still in there,” Gem insists, “I know it.”

Pearl nods. “What’s gotten into you? You’re usually the optimist.”

Katherine exhales carefully, clearing thinking over her words. “The Overgrown hasn’t spoken to me since the battle,” she finally says, and Gem quickly shares a look with Pearl, looks worried.

“How long do you usually go without talking to it?” Gem asks, resisting the urge to pull out her research book. It’s not often Katherine talks about how her relationship to the Overgrown works, even if she talks about the Overgrown a lot.

“Usually only a couple of days,” she says, and Gem immediately grimaces. It’s been well over a week since the battle, and if there’s been no communication between a force of nature and its guardian since then, something must have disrupted the balance of nature.

And Gem knows exactly what that would have been.

Pearl seems to have caught on as well. “Do you think all of the gods were…?”

“I don’t know,” Katherine says, frustration bleeding into her voice and escaping in the form of tears. “All I know is that it’s silent, and it’s never silent, it’s always humming or whispering in my mind, even if I can’t tell what it’s saying. And I’m scared, I’m so scared, because what if it’s dying or already dead and I wasn’t there to protect it?”

“Oh, Katherine,” Gem says softly, coming around to kneel next to her, putting an arm around her and pulling the smaller woman closer. “You’re not a failure for having differing priorities. I’m sure we’ll figure it out—the most powerful people in the empires putting their minds together? With the exceptions of Joel and Joey, we should come up with some good ideas.”

Katherine nods, shudders, then straightens. “Right. That’ll keep to another time—though hopefully not too long?” She looks to Gem for confirmation, and she nods. “Anyway, as you know, Scott’s here. He was being so obstinate about coming that we just gave in and convinced him to at least let us come along and make sure he doesn’t hurt himself or get into any trouble.”

Gem and Pearl exchange wry smiles. The two of them and fWhip have this method of communicating without speaking through facial expressions and body language alone, and while it drives everyone else mad, it does come in handy. Right now, for instance, Pearl is silently asking Gem if she wants to go check on Scott, and Gem is hesitating, because she does want to, but she also wants to stay near fWhip in case there’s any change.

She sets a hand on fWhip’s arm, glancing from him to the door, and Pearl picks up on the source of her hesitation, scooting her chair closer to the bed. Gem twists her mouth into a small grimace, but nods, and Katherine sighs.

“You guys are doing that thing where you’re not talking, aren’t you?”

“We’re talking,” Pearl says, grinning cheekily, “just not aloud.”

Katherine makes an offended noise, and Gem pats her shoulder as she stands and goes to the door. “I’m going to check on Jimmy and Scott. Keep an eye on him, and come get me if there’s any change.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice, Gem, I got the message the first time,” Pearl says over Katherine’s exclamation of, “Of course!”

Gem smiles, but it’s tight and feels wrong on her face. She’s scared to leave her brother, even if it’s with Pearl and Katherine, two people she knows and trusts explicitly. But there’s the possibility of something happening and her not being around to stop it—and suddenly she understands why Katherine was acting so distressed earlier. She hadn’t been there when something happened to the Overgrown, and now she’s helpless. If anything happens to fWhip—well, anything else—she won’t be able to forgive herself.

She finds the door at the end of the hall open just a crack, and pokes her head in to see Jimmy combing through Scott’s wings, fixing crooked and loose feathers. He looks up, startled, when she does, and his hands go still. “Oh,” he says softly. “You look awful.”

She lets out a huff that’s supposed to be a laugh. “I could say the same to you,” she says in a whisper, and is surprised when Scott’s voice grumbles from the bed.

“Yes, we all look terrible, but unfortunately we’ve had more important things to do than to look pretty.”

Jimmy snorts and swats at Scott’s head. “You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

“I’m resting,” comes the annoyed reply. “Which would be a lot easier if you were quieter.”

Gem holds up her hands in defence. “Hey, I’ve been quiet.”

“Well, be quieter. I want to sleep.”

Gem shares a look of fond exasperation with Jimmy. She mouths, ‘He’s such a grump,’ and Jimmy chuckles softly as he pats a feather down into place. Scott grumbles unintelligibly and shifts so that his wing whacks Jimmy over the head, making Jimmy squawk in outrage.

Gem laughs then, a genuine one that doesn’t hurt as it comes out. It’s just… so normal, so mundane, and it feels for a second like one of the three of them hasn’t had a near-death experience recently, like one of them didn’t have to see a person they love dearly nearly kill themselves, like one of them isn’t slowly losing their brother while he’s still alive.

And there’s something to be said that they can bounce back from such trauma so soon, either that they’re strong and don’t need help, or they’ve been through so much that such traumatic events are normal.

(It’s probably the latter.)

Scott finally sits up, shifting his wings again so they fall behind him, and Jimmy sits back so he can have his space. “How’re you doing, Gem?” Scott asks, and she shrugs.

“It’s just the not knowing that’s killing me. Otherwise I’m okay.”

Scott nods, and Jimmy looks sympathetic. Of course, out of all of them, he’d understand best. He’d been in the same boat while they were waiting for Scott to wake up, and she recalls Sausage saying that Jimmy had said something similar. She shares a small smile with him before Scott clears his throat.

“I was actually hoping to talk with you, preferably alone.”

Jimmy raises an eyebrow. “Now, wait a minute—”

“Jimmy,” Scott cuts him off. “I’ll be fine. Go check in with Katherine and Pearl, or take a walk, but I need to talk to Gem. Alone.”

Gem frowns, but nods to Jimmy, who sighs heavily before standing and giving Scott a look. Gem didn’t quite know what the look was for, but she does her best to keep her face neutral when Jimmy turns around. She doesn’t want him to think she doesn’t know what she’s doing.

(And no, she absolutely doesn’t know what she’s doing, lately it feels like she never has, but she doesn’t want her friends and allies to lose faith in her.)

Jimmy leaves the room, and Gem arches an eyebrow as she takes a seat across from the bed. “What’s this about?”

Scott is fiddling with his hands, like he used to fiddle with the Xornoth crystal, and he takes a moment, probably to compose himself, before asking, “How sure are we that Exor’s corruption is gone?”

It’s not what she’s expecting, so for a moment all she can do is stare before blurting, “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Scott starts, then hesitates, “Is there any chance that some measure of his corruption might still be around?”

She tilts her head, considering his expression. It’s simultaneously hopeful and resigned, and she can’t help but wonder what this is about. “I’d have to do more research, but Aeor seemed pretty sure that this would end his reign permanently. Scott, what’s this about? Cause if it’s about fWhip…”

Scott shakes his head. “It’s not, it’s…” He trails off, before sighing and opening his hands to reveal what he’s been cradling: a familiar crimson crystal.

Gem can’t help it; she physically recoils. She’d hoped when she gave it to Shrub, she’d never have to see it again. It had been on the ground next to fWhip’s severed arm, and she’s had to restrain herself from trying to smash it to pieces. It’s responsible for so much hurt and ruin, and while she understands the emotional connection Scott has with it, she doesn’t like it, and never will. Just looking at it reminds her too much of the way it had looked embedded in fWhip’s hand.

Of course, Scott notices her reaction, and immediately tucks the crystal away. “I’m sorry, it’s just… if there was any chance…”

“You want to make sure it’s not corrupted anymore,” Gem surmises, and Scott hesitates. She raises an eyebrow. “That is what you want to do, right?”

Scott sighs heavily. “He’s my brother, Gem.”

And immediately her heart somehow drops to her feet and rises to lodge in her throat. “You want to set him free? After everything?”

“You want fWhip back, don’t you?” he shoots back, and she nearly snarls, because the two are nothing alike.

“Your brother went into it willingly; fWhip’s will was taken from him and crushed. How are those even remotely similar?”

“Because I know Xornoth, and he’d never have done what he did without some sort of—of mind control or coercion, I know him Gem, he’d never do what he’s done, not of his own free will.”

She almost can’t believe what she’s hearing. “Scott, how old were you when Xornoth killed your parents? How can you be certain?”

Scott deflates slightly. “I’m not,” he admits quietly, and she stares at him for a moment before he adds, “That’s why I want to free him. Not just because I think he deserves the chance to live free of Exor’s corruption, but also because we need to be sure the last of it is gone.”

She’s trying to come up with a counterargument, but she comes up short. Sighing, she gives in. “Fine. But only if Shrub is okay with it, because he was responsible, indirectly or not, for the slaughter of her people.”

Scott nods quickly. “That’s fine.”

“It’s non-negotiable,” she corrects stubbornly, scowling ever so slightly. “And I want at a minimum Pearl, Lizzie, and Pix there in case something goes wrong or he’s still… y’know.”

Scott sighs, but nods, and she tries not to think of the million and one ways this could go wrong.

_______

“I’m sorry, you want to do what?” Shrub asks, sounding nervous. Gem can’t blame her; what they’re proposing is ludicrous.

Scott huffs from his seat across the room. Currently they’re in fWhip’s study, which hasn’t been tidied much beyond getting rid of the scraps of paper that had littered the room and scrubbing the ink stains off of the floors and walls. The room still looks to be in disarray, but only slightly more than usual.

“We want to let Xornoth out,” Scott says, even if that’s not entirely true.

“You want to let Xornoth out,” she corrects. There’s a big difference in her mind. She may understand why he needs to know, but that doesn’t mean she’s happy about it. “But I’m only doing it if you’re okay with it, Shrub. He was the one to slaughter your people.”

Shrub makes a face that Gem can’t interpret. “I’m… not so sure he did, actually.”

Gem stares. “Shrub…”

“I went home,” Shrub explains quickly, “the night Pearl brought you to Rivendell, I was late, remember? That’s because I’d found my way back to my homeland, and only came back because I needed supplies. I haven’t been able to try to get back since, so I’m not sure it’s still there, but when I was there, it was empty. No people, no animals, no corpses. That means either someone buried them, or they all escaped as well. They must have.”

Gem exchanges a look with Scott. She doesn’t want to burst Shrub’s bubble, but she knows that kind of hope can be deadly.

“Look, Shrub, I hope you’re right, but that doesn’t negate what he put you through.”

Shrub raises an eyebrow. “Oh, so that’s why you’re asking me instead of Joey or Sausage. Because my trauma is worse than theirs.” Her tone is odd, and Gem tilts her head to the side, trying to figure out what she’s getting at.

Scott stands, and goes to kneel in front of Shrub. “No one’s trauma outweighs the others’. You told me that.”

Gem isn’t sure when that happened, but she’s not surprised; it sounds like something Shrub would say.

She meets the smaller woman’s eyes, and sighs. “You’re right. I should ask them as well.”

Shrub nods, beaming, and hops out of her chair. “While I’m here, is it okay if I see fWhip? It’s been a while.”

Gem nods distractedly, and Shrub and Scott leave as she starts drafting a message to Joey. She can ask Sausage in person, seeing as he’s somewhere in the mansion right now, but she wonders how in the world she’s supposed to phrase this to express that this is a terrible idea without outright saying so.

______

Scott watches as Gem sets up two different rituals, one to open the crystal, and one to seal Xornoth back in, just in case. He wishes it wasn’t necessary, but he also knows this is one condition everyone else had agreed on. If it’s what it takes to know if his brother is still corrupted, he’ll take it.

He’s honestly surprised that Joey and Sausage agreed to go along with this, but they did, so he’s not going to complain. He needs to know, and while he knows Gem doesn’t like it, she has to understand, given what she’s going through with her own brother.

Next to him, Pearl shifts, but when he looks over at her, she doesn’t look nervous, just impatient. He’s glad someone isn’t dreading what might happen.

On the other side of the hilltop they’re gathered on, Pix, Lizzie, and Joey are all looking around, fiddling with weapons, and generally looking trepidatious, even Pix. He can’t really blame them; this is the big bad demon they’ve spent so long fearing and fighting.

Gem looks nervous, too, standing next to the circle of stones and pebbles that make up a series of concentric rings, surrounded by a chalk circle, which is periodically interrupted by eight stone pillars. She hasn’t put the last item on its pedestal, waiting until they know whether or not Xornoth is still… Scott doesn’t want to consider the possibility.

Right now, they’re just waiting for their backup, which comes in the form of a pack of wolves, led by Shrub on her Mother Wolf, all racing each other and yipping excitedly. Scott smiles at the excitement, even though he knows it won’t last long.

He’s right; as soon as the pack crest the hill, they slow, quiet down, and slink into formation around the circles Gem has marked out. It’s an eerie shift, going from exuberance to dread, and he wonders how they all know—or if they know—what’s about to happen.

Gem glances around the loose circle, and squares her shoulders. “Are we all ready?” She asks, and they all nod, some more hesitantly than others.

As Scott and Pearl pull out their weapons, Gem braces herself, picks up her staff, and slams the butt of it down on the outermost stone circle, which lights up purple, then the middle circle lights up magenta, and the smallest circle, the one in the middle, lights up red. The crystal, which had been laying on a pedestal in the very centre of the set-up, starts levitating.

Arcs of purple, magenta, and red lightning start rising up from the circles, getting higher and higher until they reach almost the same height as the crystal. Once there, the lightning changes from arcs to bolts, latching onto the crystal, which glows brighter and brighter until Scott can’t look at it anymore, and there’s the sound of something cracking, then shattering—then the lights all die at the same time, and there’s dead silence.

Scott opens his eyes tentatively as the stars fade out of his vision. He looks to the centre of the ritual, and his breath is stolen, because lying there on his back, magenta hair spilling across the his blackened wings and the dry grass, is his brother—and not the corrupted version he’s gotten to know over the last year. No, this is the version he remembers from his childhood.

Without thinking about it, he sheathes his sword and charges forward, nearly stumbling over the stone circles that made up the ritual set-up. He falls to his knees next to Xornoth, ignoring the cries from Pearl, who’s three steps behind him, and Gem, who he can see out of the corner of his eye has her sword and staff both at the ready.

Tentatively, Scott lays a hand on Xornoth’s shoulder, about to shake him awake, but before he can, Xornoth gasps, eyes flying open, and pushes himself up to his elbows. Scott jerks back in response, startled by the sudden movement, and lets his hand hang in the air instead of on Xornoth’s shoulder.

Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Joey hurriedly fixing his hair, which had been fine, what was he doing, but his attention is on his brother, who’s panting heavily and looking around with a wild look in his eyes.

“Xornoth?” Scott asks nervously, and the other elf pales, whipping his head around to stare at Scott for a long moment before lunging to his feet and pulling Scott’s sword from its scabbard.

Scott stumbles to his feet, putting as much distance between himself and his brother as he can, but Xornoth doesn’t charge or otherwise attack.

Instead, he turns the sword on himself, and Scott barely has any time to cry out before there’s movement in his periphery and suddenly Pearl is there, knocking the sword from Xornoth’s hand and hitting him over the head with the pommel of her sword. He drops like a sack of bricks.

Scott stares, and stares, even as Pearl grabs his sword and offers it to him. After a long moment she sighs and just sticks his sword in her belt, then gestures Lizzie forward.

“Come on,” she says, “we should get him somewhere more secure.”

As Lizzie gathers Xornoth in her arms, Pix and Joey trailing after her, Shrub comes up to Scott. At some point during the last few minutes, she’s gotten off the Mother Wolf’s back, and she rests a hand on Scott’s arm.

“Hey,” she says softly, “are you okay?”

He blinks, his first move since Xornoth had tried—oh, Aeor, he’d tried to kill himself. His big brother had tried to kill himself with Scott’s own sword.

Scott’s suddenly very glad Pearl has his sword, because he’d probably do something inadvisable to it if he had it.

“Scott?” Shrub asks again, and he takes a deep, unsteady breath.

In a voice that threatens to break, he manages, “Why would he do that?”

Shrub hesitates, then wraps her arms around Scott in what’s probably supposed to be a comforting hug, but instead just feels stifling. “We don’t know what’s going on in his head right now.”

“Do you…” Scott almost can’t finish the question. “Do you think he’s still being controlled?”

Shrub shakes her head. “I don’t. Though I have to tell you, that doesn’t mean he’s back to normal. That kind of imprisonment… it has to leave scars.”

“I know that,” Scott snaps, then immediately regrets it. “Sorry, I just…”

“You’re scared,” Shrub finishes for him. “Yeah. I would be, too. But Scott, he’s got you on his side. That has to mean something.”

Scott nods, but he doesn’t say anything. Aeor, what had Xornoth been thinking? Didn’t he recognize Scott? Doesn’t he know who Scott is? Surely if he remembers his life before Exor, he wouldn’t… he wouldn’t try to kill himself.

That leaves three options in Scott’s mind: either there’s still some remnant of Exor still controlling him, he’s unable to think of living without Exor… or he remembers everything he did as Exor’s champion and can’t bear to live with the guilt.

He’s not sure which he’s hoping for.

A/N: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH okay this is a very exciting chapter. I'll let you all see for yourselves. Skål!

Summary:  When Ivar takes the throne of Kattegat, Lagertha flees to Wessex along with Björn, Ubbe, Torvi, and the Bishop Heahmund. There, they seek the aid of King Alfred. This aid comes in the form of his sister, Aethelind, who agrees to travel to Kattegat and try to reason Ivar, who she spent some time with during their youth, when her grandfather King Ecbert hosted Ragnar Lothbrok in their castle. Now, she is the only hope for Lagertha and her supporters to retake Kattegat from Ivar the Boneless.

Masterlist

--

“I have to go to Novgorod.”

Ivar and Asta both turned their attention to Oleg, confusion on their faces. There was nothing in the little puppet play they were watching- and which Asta was enjoying far more than the men beside her, who had both murdered their wives- to have brought this on, they didn’t think. They turned their confusion to each other, before Ivar looked back to him and questioned, “Novgorod?”

Oleg nodded as he clarified, “The old capital of Rus.” He seemed to notice neither Ivar nor Asta understood the point of this, and so he further explained, “My brother lives there. I need to talk to him.”

Hearing about going to visit a brother made Asta’s chest ache a bit. She missed Alfred terribly, as well as Aethelred, but it was only the former she knew she could see again in this life. Part of her hoped that, once all this business in Rus was settled, she could convince Ivar to return with her to Wessex. She had no desire to leave her companion, and yet every desire to reunite with her last living relative. And after all, if Alfred had received Lagertha, Torvi, Björn, and Ubbe, why shouldn’t he receive Ivar as well? Especially if she had brought him?

She didn’t think it would be any problem.

STAR WARS: The Old Republic - Mastery

Fandom: Star Wars: The Old Republic (Legends/EU)

Pairing: Male Jedi Knight | Hero of Tython (Cathar), Theron Shan

Summary: Recovered and ready to fight, Jett sits among the Republic's top war officials as they plan their final stand against the White Claw. However, Jett's time among them has side-effects he had not anticipated and could prove a hindrance to the operation.

CHAPTER 25: WAR COUNCIL is now on Ao3!

Chapter 25/25 - Beca and Chloe’s Epilogue

Summary: Beca is straight as an arrow. 100%, totally, completely straight. Except for one problem that 100%, totally, completely changes everything: Chloe Beale.

Title borrowed from Calum Scott’s “If Our Love Is Wrong.”

Word Count: 1.5k

Rating: M (for dark themes, homophobia, masturbation, and eventual smut in later chapters)

AO3, FFN, and below the cut.

I decided to post both chapters 24 and 25 today, rather than waiting until Monday to post 25 because it’s so short. Also, a Monday seems like a weird day to end a fic. Idk.

So, this is it! Thank you so, so much for reading and joining Beca and Chloe on this journey. The support I had on this fic was PHENOMENAL. I know it wasn't always a happy fic, but it wasn't always sad, either. I hope Beca and Chloe's experiences and struggles have been relatable and that this fic resonated with you in some way.

Finally, big, massive, enormous THANK YOU to @acabellas, because really, without her this fic wouldn't exist. I mean it. You're the best.

Nocturnal Acquaintances

Chapter 25/?

In the morning Jamie seemed more cheerful, or at least more peaceful, as though a difficult decision had been reached. He promised me hot tea for supper, which was small comfort then in the frigid air. Sleepily I followed him back to the path, brushing pine needles and small spiders from my skirt. The narrow path faded during the morning to no more than a faint trace through rough sheep’s fescue, zigzagging around the more prominent rocks.

I had been paying little attention to our surroundings, as I dreamily enjoyed the growing warmth of the sun, but suddenly my eye struck a familiar rock formation and I started out of my torpor. I knew where we were. And why.

“Jamie!”

He turned at my exclamation.

“You didna know?” he asked curiously.

“That we were coming here? No, of course not.” I felt mildly sick. The hill of Craigh na Dun was no more than a mile away; I could see the hump-backed shape of it through the last shreds of the morning mist.

…

“It’s your place,” he said roughly. “Isn’t it?”

“Yes.” I stared as though hypnotized at the stone circle. “It looks just the same.”

Jamie followed me into the circle. Taking me by the arm, he marched firmly up to the split rock.

“Is it this one?” he demanded.

“Yes.” I tried to pull away. “Careful! Don’t go too near it!” He glanced from me to the rock, clearly skeptical. Perhaps he was right to be. I felt suddenly doubtful of the truth of my own story.

…

“I walked round the circle, looking at things. Just randomly, though; there was no pattern. And then I came near to the split rock, and I heard a buzzing, like bees—”

It was still like bees. I drew back as though it had been the rattle of a snake.

“It’s still here!” I reared in panic, throwing my arms around Jamie, but he set me firmly away from him, his face white, and turned me once again toward the stone.

“What then?” The keening wind was sharp in my ears, but his voice was sharper still.

“I put my hand on the rock.”

“Do it, then.” He pushed me closer, and when I did not respond, he grasped my wrist and planted my hand firmly against the brindled surface.

Chaos reached out and grabbed me.

The sun stopped whirling behind my eyes at last, and the shriek faded out of my ears. There was another persistent noise, Jamie calling my name.

I felt too sick to sit up or open my eyes, but I flapped my hand weakly, to let him know I was still alive.

“I’m all right,” I said.

“Are ye then? Oh, God, Claire!” He clasped me against his chest then, holding me tightly. “Jesus, Claire. I thought ye were dead, sure. You…you began to…go, somehow. You had the most awful look on your face, like ye were frightened to death. I—I pulled ye back from the stone. I stopped ye, I shouldna have done so—I’m sorry, lassie.”

…

At last he turned to me and grasped both my hands. He raised them to his lips and kissed each one formally.

“My lady,” he said softly. “My…Claire. It’s no use in waiting. I must part wi’ ye now.”

My lips were too stiff to speak, but the expression on my face must have been as easily readable as usual.

“Claire,” he said urgently, “it’s your own time on the other side of…that thing. You’ve a home there, a place. The things that you’re used to. And…and Frank.”

“Yes,” I said, “there’s Frank.”

Jamie caught me by the shoulders, pulling me to my feet and shaking me gently in supplication.

“There’s nothing for ye on this side, lass! Nothing save violence and danger. Go!” He pushed me slightly, turning me toward the stone circle. I turned back to him, catching his hands.

“Is there really nothing for me here, Jamie?” I held his eyes, not letting him turn away from me.

He pulled himself gently from my grasp without answering and stood back, suddenly a figure from another time, seen in relief upon a background of hazy hills, the life in his face a trick of the shadowing rock, as if flattened beneath layers of paint, an artist’s reminiscence of forgotten places and passions turned to dust.

I looked into his eyes, filled with pain and yearning, and he was flesh again, real and immediate, lover, husband, man.

The anguish I felt must have been reflected in my face, for he hesitated, then turned to the east and pointed down the slope. “Do ye see behind the small clump of oak down there? About halfway.”

I saw the clump, and saw what he was pointing at, the half-ruined crofter’s cottage, abandoned on the haunted hill.

“I shall go down to the house, and I shall stay there ’til the evening. To make sure—to be sure that you’re safe.” He looked at me, but made no move to touch me. He closed his eyes, as though he could no longer bear to look at me.

“Goodbye,” he said, and turned to go.

…

He stepped off the ledge and made his way down the steep incline, bracing his feet against tufts of grass, catching at branches to keep his balance, not looking back. I watched him until he disappeared into the oak clump, walking slowly, like a man wounded, who knows he must keep moving, but feels his life ebbing slowly away through the fingers he has clenched over the wound.

My knees were trembling. Slowly, I lowered myself to the granite shelf and sat cross-legged, watching the swallows about their business. Below, I could just see the roof of the cottage that now held my past. At my back loomed the cleft stone. And my future.

…

As the evening star began to glow among the black pines’ branches, I concluded that in this situation reason was of little use. I would have to rely on something else; just what, I wasn’t sure. I turned toward the split rock and took a step, then another, and another. Pausing, I faced around and tried it in the other direction. A step, then another, and another, and before I even knew that I had decided, I was halfway down the slope, scrabbling wildly at grass clumps, slipping and falling through the patches of granite scree.

…

I stood watching him for a moment, filled with an unutterable tenderness.

—Outlander/Cross Stitch

Photos: Starz, Season One, Episode Eleven, April 18, 2015

Photo: safer-place.de (Goodbye)

Gif:  gneppyuniverse.altervista.org (Jamie)

Gif: outlanderamerica.com (Jamie & Claire)

Book: Outlander (Cross Stitch), Diana Gabaldon, 1991

Tumblr: September 19, 2018, WhenFraserMetBeauchamp 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿❤️🇬🇧

I just want to say a quick thank-you to those of you that have been waiting so patiently for this. I was really struggling when school first started back up, but I think I’ve finally gotten into a routine, so I’ll be trying to post chapters regularly again.

written with @ocsickficsideblog

By the time Kit was feeling well again, it was barely a week til Christmas. He’d been watching the calendar warily. The Raycraft Christmas ball was drawing close, and even though he wouldn’t be going alone, he was still terrified. Siofra had visited several times while he was sick, and she’d promised repeatedly to beat the shit out of anyone who bothered him, but Kit couldn’t shake the lingering feeling that something would go wrong.

Now it was the 19th, and Kit was getting dressed properly for the first time in almost two weeks. He’d promised to take Siofra shopping for a dress, both as thanks for going with him, and so she’d have something appropriately fancy to wear. Alistair had of course insisted on coming along, and the younger boy was sitting impatiently on the bed while Kit put on mascara and re-re-re-fixed his hair.

“Kit, are you done now?” Alistair asked. He was grumpier than usual because he really didn’t like crowded shops, wearing his scruffy jeans and his black jacket so he could pull the hood up and sulk.

“Almost, but I’ve said repeatedly, you don’t have to come.” Kit huffed. He loved going shopping with girls, but he hated shopping with Alistair.

“Yeah I do. I need to protect you.”

“From what? The shopping centre werewolves?” Kit rolled his eyes.

“I don’t know what’ll crop up,” Alistair mumbled. “Not werewolves. You clearly don’t know your lycan folklore.”

Kit groaned. “That’s not the point. My point is, I don’t need a bodyguard, and even if I did, Siofra is stronger than you. You hate shopping, there’s no reason for you to come.”

“I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Kit sighed in frustration. “Well, you’re choosing to come along, so you don’t get to complain.”

Alistair pretended to pout. “But there’s so much to complain about!”

Kit gave him an irritated look. “I’m serious. This is supposed to be a nice day with Siofra.”

“I was joking,” Alistair said. “You can just say if you don’t want me there.”

“Will you get offended if I say that?”

“No.” Yes.

Kit rolled his eyes. He knew better. “Come along, but if you start whining, I’m calling Taddy to take you home.”

“Okay,” Alistair said, brightening just a little. Kit didn’t make him stay home, that was enough to cheer him up. Kit just sighed dramatically, putting on his scarf and gloves and many coats before daring to leave the house. Though his cough had mostly cleared up, the cold outside air still made him wheeze. Alistair supervised this process, making sure Kit was adequately bundled.

When the boys made the trek down the stairs, Siofra was waiting outside the block of flats, with Finny sitting loyally at her feet. Alistair immediately cheered up, kneeling to greet him. Finny was equally excited, throwing his front paws on Alistair’s shoulders to bark and lick his face. Alistair laughed delightedly. “Hello, Finny! I missed you!”

Finny boofed in response, nearly tackling Alistair in his continued attempts to cuddle. Kit rolled his eyes, but Siofra grinned. She had deliberately brought Finny to distract their inevitable third wheel. She met Kit’s eyes, and he nodded gratefully. Alistair was none the wiser - it might hit him later on tonight, and he’d feel indignant, but now he only had eyes for Finny. Siofra ‘generously’ offered him the leash. He took it at once, beaming, genuinely believing she was being kind.

Kit took Siofra's newly-free hand, and they headed off towards the shopping centre at his admittedly slow pace. She didn't seem bothered, telling him about the hike she'd gone on last weekend - she and Riagan had trekked Ockley to Leith Hill, which sounded terrifying to Kit, even in fairer weather, but he listened loyally as she rambled.

“I'd offer to take ya sometime, but you're not exactly… outdoorsy.” Siofra laughed.

Kit shook his head. “I know, it's alright. That was always more Al's thing than mine.”

“What was my thing?” Alistair called back. He’d gone dashing ahead with Finny.

“Going outside.” Kit said, “Like into nature, not just out of the house.”

“Oh yeah, I like that. As long as there’s no people.”

Siofra snorted. “Well, yeah, that’s half the point of goin’ out. Get away from all the bustlin’ crowds ‘o idiots.”

“Definitely,” Alistair mumbled, petting Finny. The dog licked his hand before walking ahead to sniff a tree. Siofra went back to talking to just Kit.

It took almost an hour to reach the shopping centre, but Kit and Siofra were still chattering away when they approached the first store. Kit was so absorbed in a story he was telling, Siofra had to tug his arm to keep him from smacking into the doorway. She rolled her eyes. “You’ve got the survival skills of a dodo bird.”

“I’m not that bad.” Kit huffed. “I’m not extinct.”

Siofra fought the urge to snark back, knowing she couldn’t let him know what Alistair had told her. She settled on, “That’s sheer fuckin’ luck from the look of it.”

“That is correct,” Alistair said.

Kit just huffed again, leading her to the women’s formalwear section of the shop. “Come on, we’re looking for dresses.”

“What sort of dresses do you like, Siofra?”

“I like bright colours. Blue an’ green usually look good, black is easy. Somethin’ that makes my tits look nice, nips in at the waist.” She replied, looking at a deep blue gown on a mannequin before shaking her head. “Colour’s nice, but it’s just a shiny tube. Might look nice on a real skinny girl.” Suddenly, an idea made her snort. “Kit, you try it on.”

Kit’s face flared red. “I’d rather not.”

“He’s not trying it on,” Alistair said firmly. He knew Siofra didn’t know about the Dress Incident, but it still rankled.

Siofra drew back a little. “Jeez, okay. It was a joke. C’mon, let’s just look around.”

“Sorry,” Alistair muttered quietly, but he didn’t offer an explanation. Kit was just glad to be distracted by dressed, guiding Siofra over to an emerald dress with a low-cut top and a full, flared skirt.

“What do you think of this?”

“It’s nice. Little plain, though. If it’s gonna be long, I want somethin’ to be happenin’, ya know?” Siofra mused. “Is there anythin’ with lace? I like lace dresses. It’s like ‘I’m pretty, an’ I’m fancy, but I still fuck.’ Y’know?”

Kit laughed, “I don’t, but I’ll take your word for it.”

“You’re a weird girl, Siofra,” Alistair said, grinning.

“So are you.” She grinned back, turning to examine a deep purple dress with a patterned bodice. Kit came to look with her.

“This fabric is lovely.”

“Yea, looks like it might get warm, though.” Siofra said. “Don’t wanna sweat too much while I’m dancin’.”

Kit paused; he was always cold, he hadn’t even thought of that. “Oh… you’re right. You want something lighter, then?”

Siofra nodded. “Yea. Some’o these are nice, but I wanna look around more. Nothin’s speakin’ to me yet.”

Alistair didn’t join in the conversation much. He mooched around swishing the skirts of mannequins and making shoes dance on his hands and generally worrying the staff as they watched him mess with things. Finny, ironically, was well-behaved the entire time, just padding quietly at his side. Eventually, Kit and Siofra gave up, leaving the store to explore another. Alistair sighed to Finny. “They’ll be at this all day.”

Finny let out a dog sigh. Kit and Siofra were already ducking into another store that had stunning gowns on the mannequins. Kit was pondering outfits, and after a moment he asked, “How do you feel about red?”

“I like a good red. Red is a sexy colour.” Siofra said, winking at him.

Kit grinned. “I was hoping you’d say that.” He’d had a vision of him, hair freshly dyed, red accoutrements paired with a sleek black suit, gold jewelry on top of it all, and Siofra, in a matching red gown and gold accessories.

“You got an idea?” She asked, “You’re makin’ a thinkin’ face.”

Kit nodded. “Come on, let’s find a red dress you like.”

Siofra followed him through the store, gathering up several gowns in varying shades from wine to crimson. Alistair sighed and made scarlet woman jokes, picking at his hangnails. Finny nosed his leg while Siofra smuggled Kit into the dressing room with her. Alistair raised his eyebrows, squatting down and shaking Finny’s paw. “Honestly, Kit is so blooming fancy he won’t answer the door in pyjamas, but I bet he’s getting up to stuff in there with Siofra. Gross. I hope they buy the clothes and don’t just put them back.”

If Alistair actually thought about it, he would’ve known Kit was just in there giving Siofra input on the dresses and helping her try them on. They went through about eight gowns, but all they really figured out was what they didn’t like.

Sequins look too cheap.

The short skirt is too casual… and a little slutty.

That wine colour is too dark, and cool. It doesn’t quite suit you.

Narrow skirts aren’t very flattering to your shape.

These rhinestones don’t look that elegant up close.

Eventually, they came back out, dumping all eight dresses on the reject rack. Despite the seeming failure, both Kit and Siofra had a fire in their eyes.

“To the next store?” he asked.

She nodded. “Yup. Finny, come on!” The dog stood up, tugging Alistair along after his owner.

“You two look like you’re going to war,” Alistair said, running to keep up.

“To war with tacky dresses!” Siofra yelled. She was practically lifting Kit so she could run faster, but he was still out of breath by the time they got to the next boutique.

“Siofra, be careful with him,” Alistair called, as if Kit was his premature newborn.

“I’m fine, Al.” Kit mumbled, but he was wheezing as they walked into the shop.

“Siofra, he needs to rest a minute.”

She paused in the doorway, looking around and finding a cushioned bench to deposit Kit on. “I need to piss anyway. I’ll be back. You figure out how to breathe.”

Kit nodded, waving as she walked off. Alistair sat beside him, rubbing his back. “You alright?”

“Just tired.” Kit sighed, running a hand through his hair. His chest was still heaving, and he let out a tiny wheeze with every exhale.

Alistair bit his lip. “Your chest still sounds bad.”

“It always does, this time of year. Fucked up from years of pneumonia.” Kit mumbled, leaning on the back of the bench. “I should've brought water.”

“Want me to go buy some?”

“Would you?” Kit took out his wallet, handing Alistair a crisp fifty pound note.

Alistair grinned at it. “Yeah, I’ll buy it. With this fifty.”

Kit rolled his eyes. “Just keep the change. I don’t have anything smaller.”

“Course not,” Alistair said fondly, leading Finny to a smaller shop selling health food and fruity drinks. “Wait there.”

Kit, of course, stayed put, out of exhaustion as much as obedience, while Finny sniffled curiously at the shelves of the shop. Alistair found water easily enough, pulling a face at Finny. “Lots of gross food in here…”

The dog didn’t seem as bothered, nosing at anything he could reach. The shop owner was giving Alistair a less-than-delighted look. Alistair quickly paid, getting even more evils for using a fifty. He returned to Kit at nearly the same time Siofra did, and Kit stood, taking the water and following Siofra through the maze of racks in search of a suitable dress.

They had settled on a few details already, bypassing anything that wasn’t voluminous and bright red. Eventually they narrowed it down to three:  two strapless, one with a fluffy chiffon skirt and sparkling floral bodice, and one all satin, with a nipped waist and shimmery detailing around the top; the third had off-the shoulder sleeves, with floral appliques adorning the translucent sleeves, the bodice, and the outer chiffon of the skirt.

Siofra seemed satisfied with their choices, tugging Kit towards the dressing room. “Alright, come on Christina, I need help with my zippers.” She gestured for Alistair to follow. “You, too, Alyssa. Ya don’t hafta come in, but ya hafta at least look at me in each one.”

Alistair sighed, but he did actually want to see the dresses, so he let “Alyssa” slide - though it did annoy him that the sales assistant let him through into the changing room without a second glance, clearly believing him to be Siofra’s dumpy little sister. He was allowed to sit on a bench outside the row of stalls, while Siofra and Kit disappeared into a cubicle to try on the first dress. There was a bit of stumbling, grumbling, and mumbling about “stupid fuckin’ zippers halfway up my arse,” but before long, Siofra stepped out to model the dress.

It certainly wasn’t an ugly dress, but the floral pattern on the bodice tapered up and inward over the cleavage, featuring Siofra’s strong shoulders and completely concealing her breasts. “Fuck me, I look like a bloody drag queen!” She huffed, glaring at the full-length mirror on the open door of her changing stall.

Alistair laughed hard. “Go in that one!”

“You wear it if ya like it so much. I intend to show up lookin’ decent.” Siofra rolled her eyes, pondering whether Alistair might actually fit in the same dress as her. It would be close - he definitely wasn’t too tall or muscular - but she decided he was too squishy in the middle to fit in anything cinched at the waist. After another moment glaring in the mirror, she closed herself back in the stall so Kit could help her change dresses.

“Why does chiffon have so many fuckin’ layers?” She grumbled, “It’s like wearin’ a hoopskirt made’o bloomin’ candyfloss!”

Kit chuckled, “It’s for volume. Take away all the layers, and this is a boring A-line.”

Siofra rolled her eyes. “I know why. It’s just a pain. Come on, let’s get the other fluffy one over with.” She snatched the off-the-shoulder dress off its hanger, pulling it over her head with Kit’s assistance. Though the back opened wide with the zipper, she had no hope of stepping into anything with her hips. The sleeves were a bit snug near the top - dresses weren’t typically made with muscle in mind - but she liked the cut of the bodice better. She swung the door open so Alistair could see.

“Well, at least this one shows off my tits,” Siofra mused, “but I’m afraid if I lift my arms, I’m gonna rip these flimsy sleeves off like She-hulk.”

“Better body, but you look like Popeye with those arms,” Alistair said.

“Well maybe if the sleeves weren’t cut for Olive Oyl, it wouldn’t look so bad.” Siofra grumbled, swishing her hips in the mirror before closing the stall door again. “Fuck this fluffy bicep prison.”

Kit was snickering again as he helped her out of it. “Do you want to bother with the last one? I’m not sure this shop really styles for your body type.”

Siofra shrugged, throwing the heap of chiffon and fabric roses at him to hang back up. “Might as well, I’m already in my knickers.” She’d discarded her bra for the trying-on, since the straps would be awkwardly exposed. Kit hung and set aside the second rejected dress, unzipping the last one and helping Siofra pull it over her head.

“I like the material of this one.” He remarked, running a hand over the cherry satin as he zipped her into it. “Very sleek, elegant.”

“Ooh, this one makes my tits look great!” Siofra grinned in the mirror. She wasn’t wrong - the bodice had a slight dip between the breasts, and the glittering red stones around the top drew even more attention to her chest. Kit nodded, stepping out of the way so she could open the door.

Alistair was already snorting with laughter. He adopted Kit’s plummy accent. “Very sleek and elegant.” Then he switched to Siofra’s Irish lilt. “Cor, don’t my tits look great!”

“Your tits look terrible, actually. You should get a more supportive bra.” She grinned at him.

“Har har. That dress is nice though. Tits and all.”

“Yeah, I like this one.” Siofra nodded, “Skirt’s way more comfortable, too. An’ it looks expensive. I like that.” She swished her hips in the mirror, causing her dress and her curls to sway. Finny gave an approving bark.

Kit seemed excited. He hadn’t expected to find a dress they’d like so soon. “Do you want that one, then?”

Siofra shrugged. “Sure, yeah. I like it. I look hot in it. Why not?”

Kit nodded, bustling the other two dresses out to the reject rack while Siofra posed in the mirror. “Should we start looking for accessories, then?”

“Let’s just buy this an’ go. I had to walk through purses to get to the loo, the selection here is shit.” Siofra said, ducking back into the stall to put her own clothes on. Dress in hand, she and Kit walked to the checkout.

Alistair stood up and trailed after them, sighing heavily. “God, is everything going to take so long? Shoes and purses and flipping rings…”

“The jewelry will probably be easiest, actually.” Kit replied. “Most of the time, necklaces have matching earrings and bracelets and so on. Do you want to do that first?” He asked Siofra, “There’s a lovely jeweller right down this way.” He gestured towards a row of shops.

“Sure, yeah.” Siofra nodded. “I don’t wear earrings, though, so don’t get excited about that.” She warned him. Kit didn’t seem bothered, and they discussed metals and gems while they waited in line at the register. By the time the dress was handed back in a sleek shopping bag, they had already settled on rose gold and rubies. Kit was babbling excitedly as they walked to the jeweller.

“Most of my jewelry is yellow gold, just because it’s more widely available. I didn’t really like rose gold when it first came into style, but I warmed up to it a few years ago. I think it will look lovely on you, especially with your hair.”

Siofra let him talk, listening and nodding as they walked into the store. She was a little out of her element now; her idea of expensive jewelry was the department store - this place looked like a dragon’s hoard. “I hope you know what to look for, cause I’m lost.” She mumbled.

Kit nodded. “I saw an ad for one of their collections a few months back, follow me.” He led her to a lovely array of rose-gold jewelry, set with a variety of gems to show what the shop had to offer. There were only a few bracelets, but the necklaces and earrings were more numerous, and nearly a third of the case was taken up with mannequin hands modeling rings. “They can set any stone in the piece you like.” He explained, letting Siofra examine the case herself. She was trying not to gawk, but couldn’t help staring at the jewels oozing from the pinkish metal.

“Bloody hell… what’s my budget?”

Kit laughed. “You don’t have a budget. Pick what you like. As much as you like.”

Siofra turned to stare at him, more awestruck than ever. “You’re joking.”

“Why would I be?” Kit shrugged. “My father is making me go to this stupid party. I might as well waste his money making you look nice for it.” He was eyeing the earrings himself, wanting to coordinate his own jewelry with whatever Siofra chose.

Alistair attempted to entertain himself by trying to find the most expensive thing in the store, continually getting distracted by the prices. He’d still had money when he was old enough to be able to buy stuff for himself, but he’d never been one for fancy jewellery like this. He was more of the skull-ring-from-Hot-Topic type back then. Finny was interested too - he liked the sparkly things, and pressed his nose against the glass trying to look closer.

Alistair grinned at him. “Shame you don’t have fingers. But we can get you a necklace,” he laughed. “You’re getting nose marks on the glass.”

Finny gave a low ruff. He seemed to like the idea of his own shiny accessory. The sales girl giggled at them. “We do custom collars and dog tags on request.”

Alistair brightened. “Want a sparkly collar? Then I can take you to the Pride Parade.”

Finny barked again, and the sales girl went to a shelf, picking out a book to show Alistair while her coworker helped Kit and Siofra. She laid it  out, opening to a page of thick glittery chains, as well as varying fabric and leather bands that could be stoned and studded. Alistair held the book out like he was showing Finny too, ignoring the amused look he got from the girl. “Are you a glitter or a leather boy?”

Finny snuffled at a picture of a bright blue band, adorned with gold studs and white stones. Perhaps it was sheer chance that he’d reacted to that picture, but Alistair nodded. “Yeah, that’s a good one.”

“Do you know what size band you would need?” The girl asked.

“Siofra!” Alistair called. “What size band does Finny wear?”

Siofra set down the ring she'd been trying on, turning to look incredulously at Alistair. “What?”

“Oh, Finny wants a fancy collar. Don’t worry, I assure you Kit has spent money on more useless shit than this.”

“He wants it?” Siofra asked, trying not to smirk too hard.

“Yeah, he was snuffling the page.” Alistair looked completely serious.

Siofra chuckled. “Um, I usually get ‘im an extra-large when I buy collars. A large might fit, but I worry ‘cause’o all the fur.”

“Extra-large,” Alistair told the girl. He didn’t want to risk getting a tight one.

She nodded. “And did you want all studs, or studs and diamonds?” She pointed to the different options in the book.

“The diamonds… They look pretty.”

The clerk checked a box on a form she’d pulled out. “And you wanted the deep blue?”

“He wants that, yeah,” Alistair said, nodding at Finny. The dog barked happily. Siofra rolled her eyes at them, turning back to her own counter to try on more rings. Alistair ruffled Finny’s fur as he got the collar sorted with the girl, rubbing the soft part behind his ears. Finny tilted his head, tail flapping happily.

The clerk finished typing the order into the register, looking back to Alistair. “Custom orders usually take two to four weeks to complete. Your down payment will be £1200.”

“You fuckin’ what?” Siofra spun back around to stare at Alistair and the girl.

“Kit.” Alistair didn’t even blink. “Credit card. Please.” The older boy pulled out his wallet and passed it to Alistair without looking up from the ruby earrings he was considering. Siofra was staring at them both like they’d just turned into dinosaurs.

Alistair held up the card, raising his eyebrows at Siofra. “Nice, isn’t it? I could do this once. Buy stupid shit I don’t even need. It was cool. Now I have to dig down the back of the sofa for the bus fare.”

Siofra snorted. “Yeah, that’s university for ya.” She was looking at Kit, and how casually he shoved aside a set of earrings to ask for a pair with more diamonds. “Is it still a sugar daddy if I’m older?”

“What would be the younger version? A sugar son? Yuck. And what is he to me? I’m not banging him.” Alistair never did have any awareness of his language in a posh shop. The clerk was giving him a weird look, and awkwardly cleared her throat.

“Ahem, sir? The down payment?”

“Oh yeah.” He handed the card over. She scanned it and handed it back, along with a receipt to sign. He scrawled his untidy signature and gave Kit the card back. Kit stuck it in his breast pocket, knowing he'd need it again once he and Siofra picked everything out. She had gathered a pile of glittering rings, along with a matching pendant and tennis bracelet. He was still waffling between pairs of earrings, trying to decide how to arrange everything - the bane of having ten piercings in each ear.

Alistair was soon bored again, sitting on the floor with Finny and sighing heavily. The dog climbed into his lap and mimicked his sigh. That made Alistair laugh a bit, rubbing between Finny’s ears. Finny licked his face and Siofra grinned at them. “You can take 'im outside. 'e probably needs the loo anyway.”

“Thank god. I’m losing my mind in here,” Alistair mumbled, easing Finny off his lap and getting up. “Come on, Finny.”

Finny climbed to his feet, bounding for the door. He was eager to get outside, too. Alistair ran through the shopping centre with him, laughing when all the posh people gave them dirty looks. He felt like a teenager for a moment. Finny pulled Alistair through the crowd, weaving deftly through the clusters of people. They burst out onto the street together, and Alistair walked Finny up and down the high street, letting him stop to pee. The dog quickly selected a tree and did his business before tugging Alistair down the street.

Alistair let Finny lead him submissively. “Where are we going then?”

Finny just continued to run down the street. Alistair started floundering after a few minutes. “Finny, I don’t think I’ve gone running since PE at school… And even then I’d bunk off and sit in the bogs.”

Finny stopped pulling Alistair along, instead electing to run circles around his legs. Alistair laughed, dragging him to a bench. “Come here…” The dog followed him dutifully and sat by his feet. Alistair gave his lap a pat. “You can sit right up here.” Finny hopped up at once, his fuzzy butt resting on Alistair’s legs. Alistair hugged him happily, completely swamped in dog fur. Finny was content to sit like that until Alistair’s phone buzzed. It was Kit.

We’re going to look for shoes. Do you want to come with or stay out with Finny?

Alistair pulled a face. I’ll come. Where are you?

By the food court. Siofra was hungry. Do you want anything?

Do they have those fancy donuts? The Krispy Kreme ones?

Yeah, what do you want?

Just get that really chocolaty looking one with the crumbly topping.

Alright. Kit didn't bother asking what his cousin wanted to drink - he'd already bought Alistair a hot chocolate when he was getting himself a chai tea. Meet us by the Krispy Kreme.

Okay. Don’t touch anything strawberry flavoured.

Wasn’t on the agenda. Kit rolled his eyes. As if he was the one who forgot about his allergy, when Alistair had never told Julius about it and nearly poisoned his cousin as a result. He was still grumbling to Siofra about it when Alistair came up to meet them, Finny in tow.

“Did you two buy what you wanted then?” he asked.

“We did.” Kit waved the tea in his right hand, offering Alistair the donut and hot chocolate in his left. Siofra just nodded. Her arms were weighted with bags holding her dress and jewelry, and her hands and mouth were busy with a carton of inauthentic but deliciously greasy Chinese food.

“Only one donut?” Alistair said, taking the drinks and food with a grin. It was an old, old joke between them, back when Alistair was still a little pudgy five year old. He’d always insist he could manage several desserts.

“Yes, because you don’t have a change of clothes.” Kit smirked.

“Ha ha. So you’re going shoe shopping next? Are you getting those fancy ones with the red insides or whatever it is?”

Kit rolled his eyes. “I already have a pair of Louboutins that will match my outfit. We’re finding shoes to go with Siofra’s dress, and hopefully a matching clutch.”

“A clutch? Oh! One of those stupid little purses?”

“It's not stupid.” Kit rolled his eyes. “It's small, so it can hold necessities like a wallet and keys, but it isn't a huge bulky thing that's in your way all night. It's an evening bag.”

“I remember them! Remember when we were kids and that Lord’s daughter - Arabella, was it? - hit me over the head with her clutch? So I tied her pigtails to the door handle and slammed it shut,” Alistair giggled.

Kit didn't seem as amused. “You're leaving out an important detail. She hit you because you were flailing around by the refreshments, hit her punch, and spilled it all over her dress.”

Siofra snorted. “Always been a charmer, huh?”

Alistair stuck his tongue out at Siofra. “She didn’t have to hit me, did she? I’d have said sorry for spilling her punch if she hadn’t, and the whole clutch-and-pigtail drama could have been avoided.”

“You also could've been dancing on the dance floor, instead of endangering innocent people seeking refreshments.” Kit pointed out. He spotted a shoe store and walked inside, Siofra in tow. Finny pulled Alistair along, following sedately, while Alistair glared at anyone who gave them funny looks.

Kit and Siofra went immediately to the high heels, looking at the array of shiny shoes on the shelf

“We definitely want something red or rose gold. I know your skirt is long, but it you lift it, the shoes ought to match.”

“They've also gotta fit,” Siofra reminded him. “Most gals have smaller feet than me. See what they've got in a 9.5. I can do a 9 or an 8.5 if it's open-toed.”

Kit sighed. “Well, that certainly limits our options.” He started exploring the shelves, but found little more than a generic gold sandal. After a good ten minutes of scouring, he shook his head and stalked out of the store. “This place is useless.”

“We’d be fine if it wasn’t for her troll feet,” Alistair snorted. Siofra kicked him in the shin as she walked by.

“Shove my troll foot up your arse if you don't watch your fuckin’ mouth.”

“Ow! Get her, Finny,” Alistair urged. The dog just barked cheerfully and kept walking. Alistair rolled his eyes, letting Finny drag him after Siofra. “So where to now? How many shoe shops can be in one big shopping centre?”

Siofra looked at him for a moment, then back to Kit. “Is ‘e actually that stupid, or does ‘e really just never go outside unless ‘e’s followin’ you like a needy puppy?”

Kit shrugged. “Bit of both.” He said, leading the group into another shoe shop.

“I’m not the needy puppy when you’re koala hugging me all night,” Alistair grumbled.

“You’re the one who insists I stay at yours.” Kit replied, not even looking up from the high heels he was examining. The pair he was looking at were actually quite pretty - bright red pumps with narrow laces attaching them at the ankle. Each lace had shiny gold aglets and the heel was tall and thin. Siofra looked at them approvingly, selecting a pair in her size to try on.

“These are cute.”

“They’re basic.” Kit replied flatly. “This style is popular right now. Five girls at any given nightclub are wearing this shoe in one colour or another. You’re not a vapid parasite looking for a face to suck. You’re an exquisite guest at an exquisite event.”

Siofra snorted, amused but also taken aback. “Damn, okay. Maybe save for them for a backup at least?”

“If you like them.” Kit shrugged.

Alistair held Finny’s leash out in a lordly fashion and stuck his nose in the air. “You’re an exquisite quest at an exquisite event, my darling,” he said in Kit’s posh accent. “We must have your own shoes cobbled for you by the finest craftsmen out of gold and marble, studded with pearls fresh from the ocean. We can’t have common shoes on my precious carpets, oh heavens no.”

Kit rolled his eyes at his cousin. “Why don’t you go piss on a tree with Finny? That seems more like your kind of activity.”

“Oh, aren’t we funny. He’s already pissed. I want to see what shoes old Hobbit Feet gets anyway.”

“Who the hell are you talkin’ to about shoes?” Siofra asked, “I saw glittery pink trainers in your wardrobe.”

“I didn’t buy those! They were fucking hand-me-downs from Toby’s sister,” Alistair grumbled. “I don’t have rich parents to fund me anymore. You know how expensive shit is? It’s awful!”

“So you fit in Toby’s sister’s shoes, and you’re givin’ me shit for my shoe size?”

“Maybe she had gigantic feet too, you don’t know!”

“I saw the shoes.” Siofra grinned. “She didn’t.”

“Didn’t you know that posh folk are known for their dainty feet?” Alistair declared, struggling to keep a straight face.

“Then why are Kit’s shoes bigger than mine? He’s the daintiest of the three of us by far.”

Kit spun around; he’d been busy scrutinizing shoes and not listening to the others. “What?”

“They are? Kit, what’s your shoe size?”

“...good question.” Kit sat down on one of the little benches, lifting his foot to check the number on the sole. “10.5. Why?”

“That’s huge!”

“I mean, I said the same thing, but not about his feet.” Siofra grinned. Kit went red, but he laughed so hard, he snorted.

“Gross! I don’t want to hear about that!” Alistair cried, blushing too.

Siofra just laughed. “Stop talkin’ about my feet, an’ I’ll stop talkin’ about his dick.” She turned to look at a pair of gold pumps, trying to gauge whether they were too yellowy.

“Are those the one?”

“Mm, no.” Siofra had pulled out one of her rings to compare the colour. “I kinda wanted a red shoe, anyway. Red pumps are sexy as fuck.”

“Alright, Dorothy. Clicking your heels will be useful at our place, you’ll get to leave early.”

“Actually, in the book, Dorothy had silver shoes. They changed them to red to show up better on-screen.” Kit chimed in.

“I don’t really remember the book. You read it to me when we were kids.”

“I remember. You called my mum Glinda and yours the Wicked Witch, and got sent to your room for the night.” Kit rolled his eyes.

Alistair snorted. “Don’t tell me that wasn’t genius. And true. And your mum bought me fake fairy wings and I got upset when I couldn’t fly with them.”

Kit just shook his head. “I remember.” He went back to looking at shoes, glaring at a ruby pump that had a nice colour but a slightly squatty heel. “This shop is just as bad as the last.”

“What exactly is wrong with that shoe?” Alistair asked.

“The heels are too short, and wide. It's not elegant. Not to mention, it would look pitifully small on someone as tall as Siofra. That heel height might work proportionately for someone Julie's size, but even then, it's unflatteringly thick.”  

“Maybe we could buy them for Jules. He has to climb on the countertop to reach shit from the back of the cupboard.”

Siofra snorted and Kit rolled his eyes. “If I'm going to buy Julie heels, they'll be attractive.”

“He has really fucking small feet. Like, comically tiny.”

“He could probably fit both feet in one'o Kit's shoes.” Siofra grinned.

“And have room to spare,” Alistair agreed.

“My feet are not that big!” Kit cried.

“I was making fun of Jules’s feet that time. It’s no fun when he’s not here to hear it.”

Kit rolled his eyes. “Loving fiance you are.’

“Shut up, I am. If I gushed about him all day you’d feel awkward, right?”

“I'd feel annoyed.” Kit corrected.

“Well, either way. And for the record, I like his stupid small feet. They’re cute and ridiculous,” Alistair said.

“You're just ridiculous.” Kit huffed. “Come on, let's try another shop. This place is a disappointment.”

“Ugh, how many more?”

“However many it takes to find good shoes.” Kit replied. Siofra just chuckled, gesturing for Finny to come along..

“I can’t believe people enjoy this. I’m bored and hot and my feet ache and this place is full of other humans.” He pulled a face, like other people were the equivalent of sewer rats.

“This is why I said you didn’t have to come.” Kit reminded him, “And that is why I said if you did come, I’d send you home if you complained.”

“I have to look after you!” Alistair huffed. “I’m practically your carer. I should be receiving benefits for this.”

“First off, I pay for anything you ask for. Second off, we already discussed that Siofra can take care of me just as well.”

“You know I’m not being serious, Kit. And yes, Siofra is fine and responsible and strong, blah blah blah, but you’re my cousin. I’d worry about you.”

Kit groaned. “You should worry about my sanity if you keep whining. For Chrissakes, Finny is being more cooperative than you, and he doesn’t even know what the hell we’re doing!”

“I’ll bet he does. He’s a clever dog.”

“Okay, so the dog is smarter and more cooperative. Good for him. You still need to stop whining.” Kit said.

“Only if you stop bitching.”

“What am I bitching about?!” Kit cried.

“Me.”

“The only thing I’m bitching about is your bitching!” Kit’s face was going red, and he looked close to popping a blood vessel. “You agreed to not complain when you insisted on coming with us!”

“Kit, calm down,” Alistair mumbled, looking almost unnerved. “What’s wrong with you? I’m not being serious.”

The older boy deflated, his voice wobbly with frustration. “Then why are you seriously trying to drive me insane?” His eyes flickered between Alistair and Siofra and the crowd around them, afraid to say more in such a public setting. Though the cup in his hand was still half-full, he mumbled something about wanting another tea and walked off towards the food court. Siofra sighed and rolled her eyes.

Alistair looked equally upset, mumbling something about taking Finny to pee despite the dog having just been. He went off in the other direction. Now Siofra looked properly peeved, stalking after Alistair and grabbing his collar. “Oi! You don’t get to just kidnap my dog.”

“Get off me!” He yelled it way too loudly for a public place indoors, but his voice was thick, like he had a bad cold. The people nearby gave him weird looks, but Siofra just seemed like an annoyed big sister, so nobody gave them a second glance.

“Then gimme my fuckin’ dog, an’ I’ll go find your idiot cousin myself.” Siofra kept a stony grip on his jumper, holding a hand out for Finny’s leash. Alistair handed it over at once, keeping his face turned away.

“Now get off.”

“Gladly.” Siofra dropped his collar, wiping the now-free hand on her jeans. “You go cry while I fix your fuck-up.”

“Fuck you,” Alistair spat, clenching his fists. He kept his back to her though, hoping he might be able to pretend he wasn’t near tears later if she couldn’t actually see him welling up.