#flashback fic

6:30 in the afternoon on a Tuesday, and you’d have thought the world was coming to an end with how the two young boys were debating.

Out in the lush, green grass of the front lawn at the Middletons’ modest home, two 9 year olds were in a very heated debate over an incredibly important thing.

Toy airplanes.

One, a dirty blonde boy with a pale, almost sickly pallor, responded in his thick British accent. “You just can’t fly one like that, Malcom, it wouldn’t be practical! Not with all that glitter and those extra bits you’ve glued on there.”

The other, a boy with jet black hair and a fair yet healthily colored skin tone, laughed at his friend’s words. “You can’t be serious, Ty- Just look at how boring yours looks! You hardly even did anything to it!” He scoffed, holding up his own toy plane as if it were common sense. “How do you ever expect to take up the reins of your family business if you can’t even make a toy that looks cool enough to sell?”

“My plane looks fine, Mal,” Tyler responded, unbothered by the criticism headed toward his simplistically painted plane. “And what makes it better is that it’ll actually be able to fly, which is what the toy is made for. You know, playing with it?”

Little Malchom let out a scoff, rolling his eyes. “You’re being crazy, you know. Mine will still fly, and plus, mine has personality!” He exclaimed, holding up his own toward the sun with a victorious grin.

“Oh yeah? Prove it then, and let’s see it fly, hm?” Tyler responded with an unimpressed expression.

“Just watch and learn, eh?” Malchom stood to his feet with a victorious smirk even though he hadn’t yet proven anything. “The master of flying in style is about to knock your socks off, kid!”

Tyler didn’t reply as he watched with an unconvinced expression while Malchom turned, taking his airplane in his left hand and then chucked it- Within a fraction of a second, it hit the fence and fell into pieces with a comically abrupt crashing sound.

That very instant, Tyler was sent into a fit of hysteric laughter which only grew in strength at his friend’s overdramatic reaction.

“NO! My precious!” little Malchom gripped his chest and fell to his knees in exaggerated agony, feigning heartbreak of the highest degree. The little act didn’t last long, however, as he couldn’t hold back his own giggles; He always liked making his friend laugh when he could.

“Hey now, what’s all the commotion out here?” Mr. Middleton, Tyler’s dad, came out with one of his bushy grey eyebrows raised in curiosity.

Tyler pointed over to the broken pieces of what had once been Malchom’s ‘stylish’ plane, still doubled over in laughter from the stunt. “Mal’s plane went and crashed- Right into the fence!”

“Ah, now, Tyler..” Mr. Middleton put his hands to his hips in a soft display of disapproval. “It ain’t nice of you to laugh at a friend’s misfortune. I thought I’d taught you better.”

“It’s okay, Mr. Middleton,” Malchom giggled, holding his hands up in defense for his friend. “I did it on purpose. I knew it’d be funny.”

Mr. Middleton’s expression softened as he realized this, a soft smile pulling at his lips from under his bushy mustache. “Ah, is that right? Always tryin’ to make sure Ty has a sunny day, aren’t you Mal?” He walked over, ruffling the boy’s hair and causing him to laugh a bit more. “Still, ‘t ain’t right to show such mirth after your friend’s toy is broken, is it, Tyler?”

Malchom stiffened as Tyler’s father turned toward him with crossed arms, taking a few steps toward his friend. It didn’t look good, the way he looked like he was about to pounce on Tyler, who was only just now calming down from his fit of laughter. What made it scarier was the words that left Mr. Middleton’s mouth as he gave a scowl. “I’ll have to give you somethin’ to really laugh about, boy..”

Malchom panicked; Surely the kind old Mr. Middleton wasn’t about to hurt his best friend, right? But here he was, practically about to lunge on the small boy. Just as he called out in a startled attempt to stop the brutal attack, Malchom froze in his tracks when he heard a completely new wave of laughter from Tyler.

Mr. Middleton had kneeled down in a quick movement that belied his heavy stature, and appeared to be grabbing Tyler’s sides- But instead of crying or screaming for help, he was laughing.

Malchom couldn’t understand in the slightest.

“Pop- Cut it out!” Tyler pushed at his father’s arms, but was notably not using his full strength.

Mr. Middleton’s smile had returned, and he chuckled along with his son’s hysterics. “No- I told your Mum I’d raise you right, boy. If you’re gonna laugh, you’re gonna have a good reason to.”

Malchom watched with furrowed eyebrows, even more confused at whatever was happening; It was almost affectionate, it seemed.

After a few seconds, Mr. Middleton ruffled his son’s hair and stood back up with a soft grunt, still chuckling at Tyler who had curled in on himself in mirth.

Malchom didn’t bother trying to hide his confusion. “Uh.. Mr. Middleton..? I don’t.. Did you just hurt Tyler?”

The adult and Tyler both looked mildly shocked at Malchom’s question, looking over toward him suddenly with raised eyebrows.

“No, no- Never in a million years would I ever hurt my boy, Mal.” Mr. Middleton’s eyebrows furrowed in concern as he kneeled down to be eye level with Malchom.

Tyler, too, sat up on the grass and looked at Malchom with concern. “Why did you think he was hurting me, Mal? Didn’t you hear me laughing?”

“Yeah, but I-..” He trailed off, even more confused at their confusion, fidgeting with his hands as he wondered briefly if he’d asked a bad question.

“Malcom, I love my boy. I would never hurt him.” Mr. Middleton reassured him, his expression softening a bit.

“It was just a little tickle.” Tyler supplied, shrugging nonchalantly.

“.. What is a tickle?” Malchom asked, his eyebrows still knit together.

Tyler scoffed, as if he assumed Malchom was joking, but as his friend’s stern expression didn’t waver an inch, he grew serious again. Almost withdrawn, even. “Oh.. I.. Mean, it’s like.. A silly thing you do when you want to make someone laugh, I guess. Right Pop?”

“Yeah, something like that.” Mr. Middleton responded, appearing concerned still as he looked between the two boys. “Your parents never gave you even the tiniest tickle before, eh?”

“.. No. I don’t even know what it is!” Malchom gestured dramatically, clearly mildly frustrated at having been left out of the loop on something fun. He huffed, sitting down on the grass again with crossed arms as he tried not to pout. “But I mean, they don’t really do any of the nice stuff, like hugging me or patting me on the shoulder, you know? So I guess it makes sense that they wouldn’t care to help me laugh, either..”

Tyler and Mr. Middleton stared at Malchom with sympathy and worry, but before either of them could respond, the phone in Mr. Middleton’s pocket started ringing. “Oh..” He pulled it out and answered the call, standing upright again.

“‘Ello? .. Ah, yes, Mrs. Stanton... Yes, he... Ah. Alright, I’ll send him on his way. Mmhm. Right then. Cheers.”

After hanging up, neither Tyler nor Malchom had to guess what Malchom’s mother, Mrs. Stanton, had said; It was time for Malchom to go back home for the day.

The two boys, one looking disappointed but resigned and the other looking mildly bitter, glanced at each other.

“.. Right, I know the drill.” Malchom huffed dejectedly, standing up yet again and beginning to gather his things from school.

“There’s always tomorrow, yeah?” Tyler offered an attempt at an encouraging smile for his friend. “We can build and paint you a new plane tomorrow.”

Appreciative of the gesture at least, Malchom’s shoulders relaxed a bit as he slung his bookbag across his shoulder. “Right. Tomorrow I’ll just have to build the ultimate jetplane. It’ll blow yours right out of the sky, you’ll see.” He smirked haughtily at his friend, easing the tension a bit.

Mr. Middleton chuckled at their banter. “Alright, alright, Mal - I’ll be sure to have the workstation ready to go when you boys get out of school, then.”

“Thanks Mr. Middleton!” Malchom brightened a bit, waving happily at both of them.

“Bye Mal!” Tyler waved back, his father standing nearby to make sure Malchom made it to the end of the block safely.

As soon as Malchom stepped over the threshold of the property, though, his smile completely vanished.

Time to go home again..

--

As was expected of him, Malchom rang the doorbell of his own home to wait for one of his parents to answer, a completely bored expression on his face.

In a moment or two, the door opened and behind it stood his mother. “There you are, Malcom. You’re really going to worry us sick with how late you stay at that creepy old toy maker’s house.” She rolled her eyes in derision rather than showing any semblance of actual concern, walking away from the door without waiting for Malchom to enter.

Malchom’s eyelid twitched as he wordlessly entered the lavish home that he considered his own prison cell, letting his bookbag drop to the floor as he closed the door behind him.

It was the same routine every day.

Get up, go to school, go have fun with Tyler- then return to this huge, empty home and be ignored on a good day or constantly demeaned on a bad one.

Malchom couldn’t understand why either of them wanted him home so badly, because for all their fussing over him returning by a certain time, it was like he didn’t exist after he returned.

He let out a deep sigh, trudging into the home to see that his mother had situated herself on the couch with a glass of white wine, watching television while she absentmindedly flipped through a gossip magazine. This, also, was pretty much the same every day.

Walking into the kitchen, he saw his father sitting at the dinner table with a newspaper in front of him and a cell phone in his hand. He spoke casually, but Malchom couldn’t find an ounce of effort in him to try and pay attention to whatever nonsense his pretentious lawyer of a father was blabbering on about.

Just as he turned to leave, though, his father hung up the call.

“Malcom,” the boy stiffened and then turned, wordlessly looking up at Mr. Stanton.

“Yes sir?” he responded in the only way that the man considered acceptable.

“Are those grass stains on your good slacks?” He asked, not looking at the boy. Instead, his eyes were trained on the paper in front of him, but Malchom knew it’d only taken a glance for his father to notice that something was out of place.

“It isn’t that noticeable, Dad,” Malchom started, feeling that he himself had to strain his eyes to see any discoloration on the already dark fabric of his pants. “We were just-”

“I know, I know- Playing. Like always.” Mr. Stanton sneered slightly, glancing disapprovingly at him before returning his attention to the paper. God how he loathed that paper, how it was so boring with its grey and black color and yet was somehow infinitely more interesting to the man than his own son..

“Sooner or later, son, you’re going to have to really shape your behavior up.” His father continued, one of his polished shoes tapping on the hard floor beneath them.

“What do you mean? I’m- I am a kid, Dad!” Malchom insisted emphatically, his frustration bubbling over as it so often did. “Kids are supposed to have fun and play! Everyone else gets to!”

A stern expression filled Mr. Stanton’s face as he heavy handedly dropped the paper onto the table, his eyes narrowing at Malchom with scrutiny. “Everyone else isn’t queued to become the head of the Stanton Law Firm, Malcom. I’ve told you countless times how important it is to keep yourself rooted in reality and to reduce any and all foolishness from your pastimes. Now it’s playing around in the grass at other people’s homes, and in a few years it’ll be illicit substances and reckless public endangerment for the thrill; You think that’s the kind of young man that will grow up to be the city’s most sought after lawyer? Do you have any idea how much time and money would have to go into scrubbing your record clean so that you could even get that far?”

“I- What?” Malchom looked incredulously at his father, not understanding half the words he’d just used. “I’m not even sure I want to be a lawyer! From how you talk about it, it sounds like the most boring job ever!”

“You’ll change your mind in time, son.” His father waved off his words dismissively, which aggravated Malchom even further. “But until then, you need to take your own life seriously. You’re a bright young man. I won’t have that squandered over something as foolish as entertainment.”

Malchom was at his wits end, and he marched up at his father with purpose, causing the adult to raise an eyebrow in skepticism.

“What?”

“You never told me what tickling was.” Malchom responded in an accusatory tone, crossing his arms.

Mr. Stanton appeared beyond confused and annoyed at this. “.. What?”

“You don’t ever tell me about the good things in life, Dad!” he pressed, practically tearing up at this point. “Only the bad!”

Seeing the tears forming in his son’s eyes, Mr. Stanton narrowed his in even more disapproval. “Fix your face, son. Look around at all we have because of my company, and be appreciative. We are surrounded by good things. And the world, well; The world is a cruel, dark place. You don’t understand this yet because you haven’t seen it. But you will, and then you’ll be thanking me for every single lesson I’ve taught you.”

With those bitterly spoken words, Mr. Stanton lifted the paper back up again, as a silent signal that the conversation was now over and that Malchom was dismissed.

With a shaky breath, Malchom turned and stormed up the stairs to his bedroom, wiping the moisture away from his eyes with frustration and growing resentment.

As he shut the door closed behind him, he trudged over to his desk where his favorite pack of playing cards were. He wearily picked them up and began to shuffle them absentmindedly, part of him wishing he could just leave this family and somehow be adopted by Mr. Middleton.

Their house wasn’t nearly as big or as fancy, which were things his own father made clear were the ‘good things’ in life. Maybe what Malchom truly wanted wasn’t good after all; Maybe he wanted the bad things.

The terrible things like messy clothes...

The dangerous things like reckless adventure...

The pointless things like laughter...

All those awful, horrid things..

Malchom let out a deep sigh, holding onto this thought as he lay back on his bed and stared up at the ceiling.

But it must be her. Lyrium blue hair, still styled in a half-up, ornate braided crown circling her long silky strands splayed out across her shoulders. The snug ancient corset is clearly crafted of resin from the deep. It’s amethyst purple with golden intricate details, swirling like layered marble, coupled with coordinating beads that loop and hang down near her hips. It’s not the kind she’d worn in battle. Nor what he remembers her in before he locked her away to be hidden from those who sought to kill her. No, none of that. It’s her everyday wear, worn over a cream colored tunic, embroidered with runes of protection. He glances down at her legs. Most likely nug leather breeches, dyed a plum purple with golden stitching. Her feet are bare and he wonders what they’ve done with her boots.

The mark in her palm sizzles and he sighs.

This will prove to be a rift in his plans. If she wakes and sees him, his identity will be exposed. Or she will kill him on sight. He cannot blame her. Weighing his options, the wisest one tips the scales to flee. But if he flees, it will cost him the chance of getting his orb back and righting all his wrongs.

What is worse is that his heart grows tight as his eyes wash over her again, mind flooding with memories. Her laughter, her wit, her cunning and strength. The softness of her skin when he’d pressed his hands against her cheeks, and captured her lips with his. Lips that tasted of warmth in winter and uttered beautiful truths in his ears. And he remembers the way he loved her.

Still loves her.

And what if, after all these years, she somehow still loved him too?

Rationale leads him to believe her opinion of him will be dismal. Hope grasps her hand as he decides he will stay to find out.

Leaning close to her ear, he whispers, “I am sorry for what I have cost you. I hope you can forgive me Lady Cadash.”

Her eyes flutter, almost opening and he lifts his fingertips to her chin but doesn’t touch. Breath caught in his throat, he drops her hand as the door flies open behind him.

“She will wake soon,” he says, choking back all emotion.

“Good. However, I am here for a more urgent matter. A massive rift has opened along the path to the ruins and more demons are spilling out. We could use your help.”

Yes, he has met his friends parents when he was a child, but this was completely different. It was the mother of the bride. May Parker. He has heard stories, seen photographs of her and even used the women's jewelry to find his way back home multiple times. But he never once met her.

He was nervous, he tried not to show yet, but his wife bride knew. She knew he was nervous, it's way she made him tea that morning to calm the nerves and kept a hand on the small of his back, rubbing circles to comfort him the whole way to her mother's house.

God! He shouldn't be nervous to meet her but here he was scared out his mind. What if Ms Parker hates him? What if he overhears her telling her daughter she made a mistake choosing him? What if-

"Honey."

Nicholas looked down at his bride who's kind yet soft smile meet his eyes. She gave him a reassuring smile that seemed to ease him a bit.

"What's on your mind?" She asked, as they walked along the path.

"Hm? Oh no, nothing..just thinking.." He replied, holding the horse's reins as he loops his fingers around it.

"I know your lying, you're nervous..tell me what's wrong."

He sighed, "..okay, I um, I'm scared about meeting your mother. What if she hates me? I mean, come on, my brother is pure evil, so she might think that-"

"She won't. She knows, you're not some mad titan or some horrible prince who stole my heart." She replied, reassuring him.

"There are posters with my face on it."

"So? My mother is kind, caring and deeply protective of her daughter. She would know from my letters that if you were wrong for me."

"She knows about me?! Luv, what did you say?"

"Only that you fought for me, helped give us a home...and how you're loyal to those you care about."

"You didn't tell her...about the part where I broke your heart right?"

"No! And you did for good reason. Hey, she will love you. Just be yourself, okay?"

"Okay, love."

----

And somehow Snow was right.

Because the moment, they walked the path and found the small house, he was met with the sight of timeless devoting care. May Parker was reading a book at the front of the house, looking once she heard their horse, Maximums, footsteps and her daughter's calls. She put her book away and stood up, to bring herself into Amelia's embrace as two hugged.

For Nicholas, he saw the ease in her face when she looked at him. May smiled kindly, fixing her bangs and took his hand gently into her own as she greeted him. Her smile was so soft, he swear he melted into her embrace. He also saw where Mia got her look's from. Both women were breathtaking as they led him inside the house, leaving Max outside to enjoy the fresh breeze and a couple of carrots.

Once inside, Mia beside him with a comfort hand on his shoulder talking to her mother. Nicholas got every other word that came out of her mouth as he listened to the two talk. He chuckled hearing their laughs, as he slowly involved himself into the conversation.

At some point Mia went out back to check on Maximum and collect extra water from the well, leaving him and May alone. Which lead Nicholas back to sitting awkwardly in front of his future mother-in-law.

May poured him another glass of water and said, "So, now that she's gone. I wanna know about my future son-in-law."

"Oh no, ma'am, th-there isn't mu-much for me to ev-even say, really..I um just some prince.." He replied, taking a big gulp of water.

"You don't seem like a prince to me, honey."

"Ma'am?"

"I mean, your eyes are of a prince and your background seems to be of one as well. But your soul isn't filled for the royal class."

"I uh..I am sorry to disappoint then..ma'am.."

"First, you can call me May. And secondly, it's not disappointing, it's inspiring. Your soul is meant for the sea. For adventurous minds."

That seemed to stop Nicholas, as he heard those words escape May's lips. Yes he is born royalty and after his folks died, he has been on the run from his brother finding adventures elsewhere away from the throne. And when he left those royal clothes, he found himself with pirates, who soon became his friends.

He soon learned he loved to sail, going to pubs, sword fight and live on his own. Hell, he adored search and rescue, getting a treasure as a reward. He loved to explore and embrace the more curious side of things as a pass time.

No one where said anything about that to him before. And here stood May seeing right through him, as a pirate prince.

A smile grew on his lips.

"Can you adopt me?" Nicholas said out of the blue, chuckling as he did.

May chuckled, "Well no. But we are gonna be family so, you're in luck, I got a space here for you."

"I gotta ask, how did you..know?"

"About the sea part?"

"Y-yeah.."

"My husband had a friend who loved the sea, despite being a farmer. He used to go to the harbor and just take it all in."

"Well I'll be damn..well you should also know, I am a swordsman and I fighter.."

"I know. My daughter said from your letters that your crafty with that sword of yours."

"Ah well, I try. Speaking of your daughter, I promise that I will treat her right and that I will be a good son in law to you..even if I mess up.."

May just smiled. She could tell he had a lot of things on his mind and his past wasn't so bright, but he was willing to make an effort to do good in this world. Bring a spark of light back to the surface, despite him having to work twice as hard to earn it.

The two of them kept chatting, sharing stories about their lives and so much more. By the time Mia returned, May brought out her famous pies, which resulted in the prince of light to dig into the savory sweet treat. His bride laughed, but soon shut her mouth the moment he stuffed a piece of blueberry pie in her face. She hummed wiped the blueberry treat of her lips and took another pie.

To May Parker, they looked like a couple of children enjoying her homemade food. She chuckled shaking her head at the pair, not seeing a princess of fairness and the prince of light who fought to be together, but a girl and boy giggling in peace. She left them to go outside and check on her flowers, telling the couple she will be back later.

"I like your mom." Nicholas said, licking his lips before taking another bite of the pie.

She took a sip of water and replied, "Is that so?"

"Yeah. She's all too kind and harmless."

"So you're not scared of her anymore?"

"Nope. She had me speechless and.."

"And what?"

"And had me realized how beautiful you're gonna be when older."

"Oh shut up!"

She playfully pushes his shoulder as he laughed.

"I'm serious you're mom is stunning and I know your gonna be smoking hot as-!" He exclaimed grinning.

"Don't finish that sentence!" She laughed taking another bite of pie.

"Okay, okay, in all seriousness, meeting your mom made me remember how it felt to have one. And I am so lucky you're gonna be wife."

"Aww, baby, I promise you this. We will visit my mother more often if possible, or you can write her letter too, if you like."

"I'll love that. Remind me to thank her later for the warm welcome too."

"Noted."

Before the two of them can wash up and head upstairs to unpack, they heard a piercing scream and the sound of grunts followed behind it. Nicholas pushed past the doors and rushed outside, as Amelia followed gasping at the sight.

Five knights rushing around invading their private moments. Nicholas took a sword and went to fight them, Amelia grabbed her crossbow as she yelled for her mother to run off. May nodded and ran away as quick as she could.

The couple fought as the knights, to the best of their abilities. Amelia shoot one in the back and escaped the grasped of another, huffing as she did.

By the time Amelia looked up, she saw Nicholas already slaying the solider and his men. She winced the way he cracked the neck of one and killed the other two. He looked inside the wagon with the horses, to make sure none of them were hiding.

But there was none.

Another silent scream was heard.

The two rushed over to the where the flowers were, Amelia kneeling over to gentle get her mother to stand. He noticed his mother-in-law was huffing and whining, holding her chest.

Nicholas thought quickly, seeing May Parker was shot in the chest and bleeding out, he gently rested her in said wagon hearing the older women humming deeply. He knew she needed to be comfortable.

"Wh-how..who could've done this?" Amelia said, using whatever cloth in the carriage to apply pressure to her mother's wound.

"You know who, love, my brother. Might even be Shaw." He said, unsure which of the two, but seeing the dark horses he knew, "..yeah, my brother.."

"Why would Alexander..?"

"He hates us that's why.."

"H-how can we..how can we help her?"

Nicholas rested his hand on top of May's giving it a gentle squeezed as she smiled softly at him. He knew he needed to try something, even if he failed. He told them about a lake once used to heal others, it was a tale and there might no real spell but he had to hope for something. Amelia was hesitating to do so, not wanting to risk a trip and rather just find another solution but one look from her groom told her to have some kind of hope.

----

So then the three were off. Max wheeled the wagon, as Nicholas steered the way to the lake. Amelia was sitting inside the carriage, patting her mother's forehead with a cloth and applying pressure.

May mumbling words and getting the others to talk with jokes, and thoughts on her mind. She hated the silence.

"..tell me about your wedding..h-have you two started planning a date?" She asked softly.

"No, mama, we haven't. I don't even have a dress made yet." Amelia admitted with a soft chuckle.

"Me and your father got married in our second hand clothes..we just needed each other..you can use our rings for that.."

"N-no, mama, they are yours to keep."

"Have you picked out a cake?"

This time Nicholas spoke up, "I keep suggesting on soft angel cake but the missus wants classic vanilla."

"I like angel cake.." May said softly.

"Me too! And I might have to add your pie to our list of treats."

"That would be nice..I would like chicken at the wedding and white rice..oh! And flowers!"

"What kinds? I saw daisies in your front yard."

"Oh no, the daisies were from a friend..Darcy Lewis..I like..I like orchids."

"So did my mother. She liked sunflowers too."

-----

Mary chuckled softly, hissing and growing weak over time. Thankfully Max arrived just in time to the area where the lake was supposed to be. However when the two climbed off the wagon to go searching for water, they found the lake was deemed as empty.

Barely any water left.

Amelia hurried scooping up whatever water she could into a bottle, hoping it would work to save her mother. Or at least buy them more time with her.

Nicholas was gently patting his mother-in-law's forehead and softly smiled, "How are you feeling?"

"Tired..weak..my chest hurts.." She responded, clearing her throat smiling back.

"I bet you are. Look, May, I apologize for today..if-if I known my brother was going to look for me, I would've scouted the area before and.."

"Hey, you couldn't have imagined this to happen..it's not your fault, none of it is.."

"But..you're badly hurt.."

"It's okay..and I'm not afraid to end my life this way.."

"No, no your gonna be alright. Just breathe.."

"How much do you want to live at life with my daughter?" She asked suddenly changing the topic.

"W-what..?" He muttered.

"How much are you willing to do so be happy?"

"Whatever it takes, I'll try my best.."

"Start with the thing you like to do so most..what is your favorite thing?"

"..uh..um, when I child, I used to draw a lot..and sing..I haven't done a lot of it lately.."

"And return to those hobbies, my dear. Aside from your skills like fighting, your strength comes from your art..am I right?"

He nodded in response, smiling softly, "..y-yeah, it is. I hope to one day paint so much as possible.."

"..maybe you might show my grandchildren a thing or two about that..but it all starts with you.." May added smiling.

Amelia returned once again, holding the amount of water she was able to collect, requesting for her mother to drink it slowly. May nodded drinking the water from the lake, taking a deep breath as she did.

Amelia knew it wasn't much but she hoped for the best, waiting for the results. Her mother's color started to come back slowly and her labored breaths subsided for a bit. She chuckled softly at the results, yet she stilled worried. Nicholas smiled to himself, readying the wagon for their journey back.

She sat beside her mother, "..mama, how do you feel?"

"A little better..but not the best right now.." May respond.

"No shit, you got shot, ma."

"N-not funny."

"Sorry, I just hope your okay.."

"I will be..knowing you're gonna be happy.."

"I am happy.."

"Cause you will be marrying your prince."

"Is that how you felt when you married dad?"

"Oh yeah, I married my prince..well, he was more like a knight in shining amor.."

She chuckled at her mother's light joke. She knew her mother's stories and jokes were a way to keeping the memories light, even if they might feel sad.

Her mother was dying, she knew it..

"..mama I am sorry..so-so sorry.." Amelia said, as tears started to appear.

"Hey, no, shh. Don't be.." May said, placing a hand on her cheek, "Don't cry.."

"But..but your not getting better..and we let you get shoot and..and.."

"Shh, it's not your fault..it didn't know it would happen. And I'm not mad at you."

"But those..and the lake wasn't enough.."

"Hush my darling..promise me, you will save me a seat at the wedding."

"Y-yes mama..yeah.."

-----

It was getting late, very late, and the older women wasn't getting any mother.

The pair knew it like the back at their hand.

There was this painted feeling in Snow's chest at the thought of her mother going to the stars and this being her last time seeing it. It took all her strength not to let tears show, as she played with her mother's hair braiding it as she heard May talk.

She smiled hearing her mother speaking her thoughts out in the open, as if letting the nature know she was one with them.

Nicholas was quietly smiling, listening to his mother-in-law talk to them, as he chuckled holding the reins of the horses. He only met the women yet he felt like she was a memory coming back to life. One he won't forget.

She kissed her mother's forehead listening to the wind and watching the sun set below the trees. Despite it all, Amelia wasn't too scared of watching mother join the skies.

However, she couldn't shake the feeling of her mom not being at her wedding. When she became a princess, she vowed her mother would watch her get another chapter to her story and inspire her next move.

And that's what she wanted to do.

"Stop the wagon." She said, looking up to face the front of the carriage.

"What?" Nikolai exclaimed softly.

"I said stop the wagon, darling."

"Why? We're almost home to your mother's house."

"Let's get married."

"Excuse me?!"

That caught a gentle laugh from May.

"Let's get married. Today!" Snow repeated.

That's when Nikolai stopped the carriage and whipped his head around to say, "Are you insane?!"

"I fell for you, didn't I?"

"I-that's not the point! We can't get married, not now, I mean!"

Nikolai thought for a moment onto what she meant, looking around at the forest they were in and the fact that they were alone. No bad brothers, not knights on their tail, no weird friends or foes. Not even magic to stop them.

Yes, he wanted to have a grand ol' wedding with their friends around, dressed in their best clothes, guards around the castle around to protect them and a brand new home waiting for them to enter.

But then again, all he needed was a kind moment with her to seal the deal and make her his wife. Aside the fact that his mother-in-law was dying, it was somehow peaceful. Here, he stood with no worries about threats or fears in front of them.

"Let's do it." He said after a moment.

"Really?" She asked, wanting to confirm his words.

"Yes, yes, let's get married right here, right now."

The pair grinned, leading the carriage to a spot that was all too wonderful. They were surrounded by greenery, flowers such as tulips, daisies and orchid, there was a small lake that shinned behind them allowing the reflections of the sun set to play above.

There was no one to marry them, but it didn't matter.

A couple feet away was Max as his rein were connected to the wagon that held May gently applying pressure to her wound, as if the pain wasn't there at all. As she was deemed to be at peace with the sight in front of her.

In front of her stood, her daughter and son-in-law, holding hands standing in front of their makeshift arch, saying their vows to one another. The two of them were chuckling and grinning, shaking their heads as the words escaped their lips.

Most of the words were inaudible to her, catching every other word possible, as it seemed so beautiful and intimate to her eyes.

"I do."

"I do."

Nikolai smiled leaning in to press his lips softly against her very own as she hummed in respond resting her hands against his chest. They held one another close sealing the deal, pronouncing each other as husband and wife in their minds.

May watched seeing the two smile, to utterly in love, as the kiss seemed to be a mix of love, strength and wishful thinking all meshed into one. It reminded May of her wedding day years ago with her husband, knowing Ben Parker, Nikolai’s mother and all the angels above were watching this ceremony in glee.

She smiled as her eyes slowly closed, allowing that to the last sight her eyes gazed upon. She let out a exclaimed breath, as if telling the world she was now ready to join the others in the sky tonight..

..So still.

So bright.

When Amelia and Nikolai parted lips, resting in another's arms, their shoulders dropped looking over at the view of May.

She was resting peacefully..

Their muse.

----

—-💍💫—-

Ahh so that’s what I got for this season 2 flashback fic. I hope you like it.

Tell me what you think in the comments below!

His harsh, labored breathing filled the room almost immediately. You inched towards his large frame, stifling a horrified gasp at the sight of the metal arm.

The man was lying on his side, his chest rising and falling erratically. Even in his sleep, he couldn’t reach the pitch black stillness.

You could see the exhaustion rack his sleeping body, and the frayed ends of damp clothes. He had to be homeless— he looked like he had been through the ringer.

Even if he had broken in, he hadn’t hurt you or taken anything. Still you grabbed the baseball bat in the corner, watching the stranger’s every move. He looked like he was on his last leg; you didn’t want to be the nail in his coffin.

You took the largest blanket off your bed and laid it over him. The man barely moved, but it made you feel better at least. If he woke up out of his mind, at least he’d be tangled up in the blanket long enough for you to run.

The strange metal armed man was asleep for a day and a half. When he finally awoke around midday, his eyes flew open as he glanced down at the cover laid across his chest.

You gripped your bat tighter as you stood completely still on the other side of the room.

“Blink twice if you ain’t some kind of axe murderer. No offense, but you kinda look like the type.” you breathed out, nervousness raising the pitch in your voice the longer you talked.

The stranger sat up, dazed, but put his hands in the air.

“I got hurt. They’re looking for me.”

“I’m guessing you don’t wanna be found.” you quipped, never lowering the bat. That wicked looking metal arm looked like it did more than a little damage, and you didn’t plan on finding out exactly how much.

He shook his head no, and it was almost childlike. He heard you and responded, but something about it still felt like he wasn’t used to doing that. He was confused more than anything else.

He stared blankly at your broken window, where he had ripped the handle clean off after he shoved it open.

“Sorry.”

The man glanced down at his hands—the flesh one was shaking.

“(Y/N). Remember that if you decide to go on a bender and need another one of these little naps.” you replied.

“(Y/N),” He said, testing out your name on his tongue and nodded, blue eyes on you.

Without another word, he crept out the way he’d come, disappearing into the busy afternoon without a trace.

Baltimore––Present Day

You never expected to see James again.

And for a long while, you didn’t. He was still out there somewhere, hiding. Surviving.

Seeing him after seven years as you were walking back from your cousin’s house was a shock, to put it mildly.

Another man was with him this time, but you were sure it was him. A heavy awareness filled his serious gaze, sharper and more definite than before.

Your heart thudded in your chest, and everything seemed to stop. Your feet were like lead as you dragged them across the asphalt. You crossed the street without abandon. The two men were arguing, but you took up a little jog so you wouldn’t miss him.

“Hey!” you shouted, finally.

He cut his hair short, and a little spikey. He looked older, face rounder, and small lines were etched into his features here and there. But his eyes were lively, and full of awe as he stood in the street slack jawed.

The history between you two was an unresolved chasm lurking in every look, gesture, and word.

“(Y/N).” he said at last.

Washington D.C.–– 2016

It had been two years since you saw him last, and there he was, at your doorstep.

“James Buchanan Barnes is my name. I learned it.” he says in a quiet, raspy voice.

You raised your brow at the practiced phrase. Almost like a song.

“Well, James, I’m (Y/N) (M/N) (L/N), thanks for using the door this time.”

He winced at your jab, but at least took a step forward.

“I knew you, here.”

He was staring straight at you.

“And you’re hard as hell to forget.” you muttered. You couldn’t keep the awe at the man before you. Dark hair, muscled body, bigger than the last time you’d seen him almost two years prior.

He was wearing two jackets and gloves, but you knew that metal arm lurked underneath them.

“I didn’t do those things on the news.” he let out, eyes on some random spot on the floor.

You reached a tentative hand towards his gloved one. Your fingers were met with hard metal and then a cold hand on top of yours. He switched hands, sheepishly guiding you towards the flesh one instead.

“You’ve done a lot of terrible shit. A lot of people wouldn’t blink at a U.N. bombing.”

“Why don’t you?”

“Assassins are for the powers that be, bombings are for crazy people with nothing to lose,” you started, staring up at him. His lip was twitching as he held his breath. Waiting, watching.

“You’re James Buchanan Barnes, now. You don’t want to lose him anymore than you already have.”

You saw his chest sag with relief and you smiled.

“You should let me make you something before you go,” you said, turning on your heel towards the kitchen.

James protested, but you didn’t falter, making your way to the sink without issue.

“I just came—I came to say thank you to someone who might believe me.” he let out, standing on the other side of the countertop, just behind the stools.

You had already gathered the ingredients.

“I’m eating dinner, you are welcome to join and take some with you. You deserve at least one home cooked meal in between all the running and the fighting.”

A genuine crack of a smile as James slid into the bar seat across from you.

“Think you could tell me a story, James? It doesn’t have real, you can mess it up a little.” you offered.

James blinked, but slowly the words began to form. You smiled to yourself as you cooked, chiming in when he’d trail off. You wondered when was the last time he'd even spoken aloud to someone, or had decent conversation.

When dinner was done, and he’d come back from the bathroom, James looked more at ease. He had shirked off both coats and one glove.

As you swung around with your plate, your gaze drifted to his still hidden metal hand for a heartbeat, before meeting his eyes.

“Thank you, (Y/N) (M/N) (L/N).” he said, his blue eyes gleaming.

Heat rushed to your cheeks as you cleared your throat, scooting inward. James sat down next to you, savoring the smell wafting through your apartment.

As you ate, James didn’t speak much, and pretty soon his plate was clean. Out of the corner of your eye you thought you saw him sneaking glances.

And as he was finished eating, he no longer had a reason for staying. He stood up to go, but he just stood there, looking everywhere but you. A blush bloomed down his neck.

His right hand sat on the counter, fingers slowly inching towards your own.

You sat there, frozen on the spot. You didn’t know whether to run towards him or away. The rough pads of his fingertips gently grazed yours, stopping just before your knuckle.

You couldn’t speak, your mouth opening and closing with no sound coming out. His hand settled near yours, the warmth of it was electrifying. You surged to your feet, propelling you towards him. Your chest heaved at the closeness, at the feel of his body brushing up against yours.

“(Y/N)…” James breathed, still as a statue. You snaked a hand behind his neck.

“Are you—are you sure?” you stammered out, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He nodded his head yes, letting it drop forward until it rested on your forehead. James was even more real this time.

You closed the gap, gently pressing your lips on his, falling into him as his metal had pressed you tighter to him, refusing to focus on anything else but you.

He was gone before dawn that time.

Baltimore––Present Day

“Long time no see,” you said, glancing at the Falcon, who was watching from afar with a gleeful grin.

“You have no idea,” James started, pausing in the middle of the street.

“You could’ve called or something. Hey gotta go fight the giant alien asshole, don’t wait up.” You said in an airy voice, drinking in the sight of him.

“I’m sorry. I—had to work on myself, make…amends…I, uh, got a new arm? Fought Thanos?”

He sheepishly looks away, grimacing at his himself.

“That’s nice. Um, well, we started off with you half dead busting through my damn window. Only goes up from there, right?”

You eagerly held his flesh hand, squeezing hard. He had gotten better. He was clearer, more grounded than he’d ever been.

“And you think I didn’t do some research before letting your ass back into my house the second time.” you added.

And other places, too, you thought to yourself.

James smiled broadly, slightly shaking his head in disbelief.

“I remember everything.” he admitted, rubbing a hand on the nape of his neck.

“You broke into my house to take a nap. Twice. You had better remember me, James Buchanan Barnes.”

“I am so sorry.” He said dryly, giving you an awkward smile.

His friend coolly interjected with a low whistle.

“Hi. Sam. Y’all already know each other. Look, between you and me I still think he’s coo coo for cocoa puffs, but he’s gotten a lot better. The staring needs some work, though.” Sam joked.

You barked out a laugh as James glared at him.

“You go by Bucky, now, huh?” you asked, stepping closer.

“You can still call me James, doll.” he replied, a smirk forming as looked you up and down.

You perked up at that. The flirting was new, but you weren’t complaining. Using your intertwined hands as leverage you went right up to him, pecking him on the cheek.

A full blush turned his pale skin a deep scarlet, as he smiled at you.

“There were others here and there, but none that lasted. Don’t be a stranger, James, you know where to find me.”

Before you could say more, blue and red lights flashed down the street. Your heart sunk in your chest.

“I’ll be back.” He said firmly, searching your eyes for an answer. You nodded, inhaling the scent of him before he was gone again.

James bent down, kissing you full on, in a firm, passionate embrace. This was a promise. You pulled away as the cops parked and stepped out of their cars.

You put your hands high in the air, not moving a muscle. James just stood there with his hand on his hips, watching them warily.

“Are these two bothering you, sir?” One cop asked, adjusting his belt.

Anger sparked through you. James probably killed JFK for all you knew, and they were worried about you and Sam? Bullshit.

“No, no. Seriously––” James started, but he was interrupted by a second cop.

“You two got ID?” He asked, glancing between you and Sam.

You sighed, still not moving. Not wanting to put your hands down to reach anywhere, you watched as Sam grew more and more agitated by their probing. He didn’t have his ID with him, but he didn’t need one.

The cop from before leaned down to his partner, and the look of realization washed over him. Sam was an Avenger, but he was black first and so were you. Slowly you lowered your hands to the side as neighbors had come out to see the commotion. Your cousin gasped when she saw you, making her way over.

“Mr. Barnes, you missed your court mandated therapy, sorry you’re under arrest.”

James pulled back the corners of his lips into a mock smile, his tongue swiping across his teeth in annoyance. That’s what an arrest was to him, an annoyance. Must be nice.

“Let’s try the monthly thing, this time?” You called out.

James nodded as the cops pushed his head into the backseat, "Deal!"

“I’ll go with him,” Sam offered, and you smiled tentatively, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. His face was hard as he watched the cops drive off with James. But at least he wasn’t alone.

“(Y/N)!” Your cousin cried, tackling you in a hug. Sam left after your cousin looked the both of you over.