#peacespun

colter shaw, @peacespun : all men are bad. but some of us try real hard to be good.

" when cece told us that she'd met someone, we were all so happy for her. " the officer shares. anything to break up this deafening silence. " she was on her own for a long time after gerald passed. " long enough to raise three successful children and become the favorite babysitter of her two whipsmart grandchildren. " but then jim came along, and he was perfect for her. " or so they all thought.

░┆ ミ  𝙸𝙽𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙶  :  @peacespun ❝   i don't wanna choose between being a salesman and a soldier.   ❞  from franklin to willie.

Butcher's manifesto sits on the boy's tongue ready to be repeated.  Ready to be regurgitated for the man before him.  But we have to take them down.  We have to stop Homelander.  That's the only way this all ends.  They've all given this fight so much.  The words rise up in him like bile trying to force its way up and out after a night of too much drinking.  This rage . . .  it's eating Willie too. 

they are both exhausted from their research. elia can barely keep her eyes open, although she forces herself to keep going, forces herself to read every word as though it may the answer to their problems. it is only when sam takes the book out of her hands that she looks up, surprised, and realizes he has been trying to get her attention for a while (the muffled noise in the background was not just in her head, then). she utters a noise of protest and tries to grab the book, but the attempt feels lazy. they both know that she can't reach that high.

" i can keep going, " elia argues, though the world feels at though it is swirling in front of her. she rises from her chair and starts pulling at his sleeve to lower the book, but sam — not duly impressed — easily shakes her off. " they need this- cas, dean, your family-"

you are my family too. sam's refute stop her short in her tracks. elia can only stare at the man who has saved her in more ways than one, struck dumb. her heart skips a beat, then begins to thunder in her chest. a strange warmth spreads through her veins and warms her stomach. family. it has centuries since she had someone call her that, and here it is, so freely given by a man who has already given her everything. family. twice, elia opens her mouth to say something, and twice words fail her. the third time, she merely steps forward to embrace him, head buried against the flanel of his shirt. " thank you. "

she has been cursed, spat out, rejected, and forgotten. yet the worst of it all, perhaps, has to have been alone. she has wandered this earth for hundreds of years, watching and bonding with humanity only to always lose them — those fragile creatures whose lives were over in the blink of an eye. the loneliness has been grueling. she does not remember at what point she had decided to stop adopting pets and friends, to afraid to have her heart broken again. but then he had found her: prometheus, come earthbound to wander like her, to love these people the way she did. she had soaked up his company as though he was the sun. for the first time in over four thousand years, elia realizes, she has a friend. she has family. and she is no longer alone.

ezekiel was warm, and certain, and confident. he was her solace in the mornings, her comfort in the evenings, her friend as well as lover. she loved him with all her heart, every part of him: his chocolate eyes ever-lit with embers, his bronzed skin, his tousled black hair, as well as his boldness, his humor, his fire. she loved him entirely, wholly, the good and the bad. and she had known, from the start, that while she was a creature made to love, he had been hurt so badly that the words may never escape him again.

yet she knew exactly what he wanted to say to her when he looked at her that morning, head tilted, something akin to apprehension in his eyes. relationships are built on trust, he said, the words almost stuttered. his hand tucked a curl behind her ear, then brushed over her cheek, warm. and i trust you.

ella's brows raise in surprise, a light laugh ringing from her lips. " sorry - am i hearing this right ? the great caretaker admitting that he was wrong ? about moi ? " oh, she is tempting a sarcastic retort from him and she knows it. but tease though she might, she is secretly touched by the reluctantly muttered sentiment. it is good to be seen, for once; to not be underestimated and dismissed. thus far, it has always worked to her advantage. it is exactly why he has taken the risk of trusting her ( to some extent, at least ): she, the ingenue tree hugger, can slip under the radar. no one would suspect her. but the danger is greater than ever now, with homelander spiraling increasingly out of control. they need each other if they wish to bring vought down.

robb stark had always been kind and gentle to her, even before she was swept into the political games her grandmother liked to play. it was precisely why she had sworn loyalty to him, what seemed so long ago now, when she was still just a healer. robb stark would always be her king in the north, no matter the outcome of the terrible war they are fighting.

elia smiles and shakes her head at his words. she leans over the battlements of the castle, peering down at the lush green foliage below. highgarden is unnaturally beautiful, especially this time of year, when the fruits and leaves are at their most ripe, on the verge of the rot that will turn them golden -- a match for the tyrell colors she has started wearing since she was acknowledged by her grandmother.

i dared @peacespun and now i'm paying the price emotionally

the words, showing remarkable vulnerability, are uttered so softly that they are barely audible against the sound of the merry drums, flutes, and lutes that always fill the great hall of highgarden. nonetheless the words startle her from her reveries. she turns to look at robb stark, but he is staring straight ahead, his gaze fixed on the musicians. only a tightened jaw gives away his emotion. her heart gives a tight squeeze as she realizes what horrors it must remind him of. without thinking, elia reaches to lay a hand over his to comfort him. fingers barely brush his, however, before she jerks back. her heart beats in her throat, heat flushing her cheeks. she is no longer a healer, and more importantly, this is not her cottage. there are many eager eyes and whispers. the time has passed that she can comfort someone with a simple touch.

there are a thousand things she wishes she could tell him. that his brothers and sisters may still be alive and somewhere out there, safe. that his bloodline needn't be wiped out, that he needn't be the last stark. i could be your family, she yearns to say. it is a naive desire that burns deep in her heart. she has loved him since the day she found him seated at her table, wounded in soul and body. it is a wish she knows she can never express. robb stark had a wife he dearly loved and tragically lost. when he remarries again, as he eventually must to hold power in westeros, it will be to another. a northern lady for winterfell, perhaps, or the beautiful targaryen girl she has heard so much about, if his ambitions lie with the iron throne (he would be a fair ruler, a good king). but it could never be her, will never be her. her grandmother may have acknowledged her, but in the eyes of westeros she will always be a bastard. they are worlds apart.

elia looks back up at the young wolf of winterfell, eyes soft. " i'm so sorry about your family. " her voice is hushed, so that the rest of the table need not hear their conversation. though she has spoken the words before, they ring no less true. " it is a terrible thing to have those you love taken so cruelly from you. there is no remedy in this world that could lessen your pain. time helps, if only a little. " she pauses briefly. there are a thousand things she wishes to say to him, but there is only one thing she can truly offer. " i am not family, your grace. but know that you will always find an ally and friend in me. "