#time rewind

You choke, desperately inhaling life into your drowning lungs. Tears grow and well in your eyes as your dimming mind swirls. How could this happen? Why? Where did you go wrong? Grass crunches under someone's boot and you slowly tilt your head to face the sound, your hair behind your head growing damp as it rests in blood and your damaged glasses askew. Before your gaze is a pair of blue combat boots, reserved for knights and military personal. You notice the initials etched into the heel, but your vision is too blurry to make out. Gasping, you try to form words, hand weakly reaching out. The foot pulls away, out of your line of sight. The person crouches, their face is blank and unrecognizable through your wavering vision, but you recognize the voice that speaks. "I had to do this. Don't you understand?" That wretched voice that once brought you comfort had instead driven a sword through your abdomen. Crouching, they lean forward watching as the life drains from your eyes. "I needed to do this." A manic grin slowly climbs their face, eyes widening as their pupils shakingly dilate. Their hand extends, glove covered in blood that didn't belong to them. "To prove my love." They touch you paling cheek, feeling your faint breaths on their fingertips. "To affirm my devotion." Your eyes flutter shut and their speech fades into the distance, mere mumblings as your conscious slips away.

Awakening as your curtains are pulled aside, you grumble, much more exhausted than when you went to sleep. Begrudgingly, you struggle against your covers as your maid eagerly greets you. "Good morning, ma'am. Lovely day isn' it?" She smiles brightly, standing beside your bed. Exhaling, you raise your hand to block the sun boldly streaming through your glass windows. "I guess so." You mutter, tone casual as you drop formalities around your maid. turning your head, you slide your legs out from under the covers and slip them over the sides of the bed. Lisbeth, your maid, helps you out of bed, holding you steady as you yawn, fighting the desire to go back to bed. "Why so chipper?" Stretching your arms as you speak. "A maid can't have a good day now?" Lisbeth crosses her arms and pouts, brown ponytail bouncing with the motion. You pause and then chuckle and rub the back of your neck. "Sorry, But usually you're less...energetic." Lisbeth isn't somber, but she has always been grumpy. Shaking her head, she leads you to your vanity. "People can change, Milady." You sit and she begins taking care of your hair, then offers you a cloth to wash your face and arms with.

You ponder her statement for a moment, then dismiss it with a shake of your head. Something about it sounded so definite. Regardless you decided to move on, rising from your chair and walking to your closet, Lisbeth follows behind. "Is there anything on the schedule today, Lis?" You pause and contemplate which outfit you should wear. "Only your meeting with young master Mylo." Your stomach turns, twisting in knots of anxiety as you recall your betrothed to be. Heavens, you had forgotten that the marriage was so close, "Right, I forgot about that." Wringing your hands together, your stomach flips and you place a hand over it to try and soothe your stomach. Lisbeth places a warm hand on your shoulder, your head turns to face her. "Don't worry, I heard that the young master is smitten by you." You shoulders drop and you should be relieved, but you aren't. You feel ill and resentful, but you aren't sure why. Your gaze falters, falling to the floor as you try to catch the fleeting thoughts in your mind, something important you know. But you fail to catch it as you maid brings your attention back to the present.

She grabs two outfits from the closet, both similar shades of red, and holds them out to you. "Which would you like to wear, Ma'am?" It's a difficult decision, both are equally stunning albeit simple, as are all of your clothes. Should you choose the red velvet suit? It's tapered vest overlaying a comfortable black blouse and completed with a matching pair of pants. Your switch your gaze to the second option. A black, high collar dress with a cinched red velvet overcoat. Neither options were glamorous and you weren't sure if they would catch Mylo's attention, sure red is his favorite color, but the choices are so drab. "Are you sure those are the best options available?" You hesitate, hand reaching out to your choice. Lisbeth rolls her eyes and pushes your choice into your hands. "Absolutely, his maids mentioned the exact color scheme he would be wearing and you know how he loves to match." That's true, he always coordinates outfits with his friends and family members. You relent, trusting Lisbeth's judgment. You hold the suit up to your body, turning to ascertain how exactly it would look on you. "Do you think this is a good choice, Lisbeth?" Your tone is uncertain, nervous even. She tilts her head, places her hand under her chin and hums thoughtfully. "Hmm, well, if you want my opinion...I believe the dress would suit your frame much better and it would help sell the idea that your a sophisticated young woman." You are mildly disappointed, smile falling briefly before you agree and place the suit back in the closet, gaze lingering on it. "Right, of course." Obviously the dress was the right choice, there was never any doubt about that..right? Dresses are better suited to a lady of your stature anyways, despite how upset the thought makes you.

Lisbeth smiles and then steps away, turning her back and allowing you the privacy to undress. You turn to the delicate folded divider hidden away in your closet, pulling it out, you unfold it and step behind it. Your maid hooks the dress on the top of the divider and allows you the time to change. You slip out of your night gown, shivering as the cold of your room grazes your skin, then you reach for the dress. It has so many layers, you sigh and begin the arduous task of redressing, straightening your slip before you do so. once dressed, you return the divider to its original place and Lisbeth faces you once again. "You look wonderful, My Lady. Shall I escort you to the sitting room now?" Nodding, Lisbeth begins leading you out of your room and down the hall. Your anxiety returns as you think about what exactly is happening, you're getting married. You, of all people, and to someone as wonderful as Mylo. You should be overjoyed, you should be beaming, but you aren't. Your face is stuck in a frown, eyes downcast as you try to understand this strange feeling of dread that overtakes you the closer you come to the room where your soon-to-be-husband awaits you. Lisbeth eases the doors open, bowing her head and allowing you to enter the room.

You step inside, heels against the plush carpet as your eyes roam over your surroundings. The room is the same as you remember, floral curtains, light color furniture and sunlight gracing the inhabitants of the room with its existence. Then your eyes run over the lounge, the man sitting on it. His red hair stands out against the beige furniture and the pale wooden walls. It's messily arranged, pushed back to draw attention to his golden eyes, narrow and eager, and warm peach toned skin. His lithe frame is adorned in a elegant suit matching the shade of red you wear and you can tell it elates him. Mylo rises from the lounge, arms open wide and face breaking into a wide grin. But you don't feel warm or fuzzy or overjoyed, you feel nauseous, Ill and betrayed. You didn't understand why. He's been nothing but loving, accommodating and eager. Yet, resentment seems to boil beneath your surface as he approaches. "(Reader!)" He chirps, eyes wide as he advances. You freeze, but he doesn't. "It has been so long, My dear." Mylo's strong arms embrace you, wrapping around your waist as he nestles his head against your shoulder. Your stomach swirls. "How have you been?" Tilting his head, his wretched voice pleas for your attention. Images flashes through your mind, battle and pain, oh so much pain. You pull away, gaze unfocused as your eyes flit across his face, searching for that frenzied grin that seemed so prominent in your memory. Confused, he tilts his head, allowing you to escape his grasp. "My dear, are you alright?" You weren't. You open your mouth, determined to respond, but you falter, your voice weak. "I'm.." A sharp pain causes you to double over, abdomen cringing in agony and your nausea returns. Mylo rushes to your aid, as does his butler whom you hadn't noticed before. His hands hover over your shoulders as you fall to the floor, one knee knelt and the other folded. You place your palm on the floor, bracing your weight against it.

You cry out, the pain overwhelming as tears spill from your eyes. The door slams open as your maid rushes in, having heard your cry. Mylo stammers as she pulls you away, escorting you out of the room and to your bedroom. "My Lady, what's wrong?" She whispers, arms holding you tight to her side as she supports you weight, doing her best not to let you fall to the ground again. Your response is simply groans of pain and tears running down your face as flashes of hot, searing pain repeatedly stab your stomach. Struggling to articulate your suffering, you gesture to your stomach and continue groaning. Lisbeth's face contorts gracefully into a gentle care and she rubs your back. She pushes the door open, it creaks with little protest. Shuffling inside your room, she carefully walks to your bed and eases you down on the pillows, quiet grunts of exertion escaping as she does so. Her callous hand brushes your hair from your eyes and a concerned smile flickers across her expression. You curl into a fetal position, arms over your stomach and knees to your head.

Your family's personal Doctor is ushered into the room, he carries with him a leather briefcase and around his neck is a stethoscope. It's a newer invention that assist the doctors immensely. Someone turns you over, Lisbeth more than likely, and sits you up despite your groans or protest. After a short investigation in which nothing is accomplished as the Doctor simply dismisses your symptoms as mere menstrual pain, much to the embarrassment of everyone around you. He gives some medicine to your maid and sternly informs her to give a spoonful of the wretched liquid to you with your meals. She nods sincerely and agrees. "Of course Doctor, whatever you say." The Doctor bids you goodbye and his assistant follows close behind him. Lisbeth sighs and turns to you, now laying back in your bed, her empathetic features displaying great sorrow at your discomfort. She paces to the side of your bed and sits down on the edge, placing the bottle on your end table she reaches her hand forward to brush your hair back. "Poor Girl" She mutters, warm skin wrinkling with her expression. It makes you want to cry and so you do.

Panicking once more, Lisbeth coos and grabs a handkerchief from the pocket of her apron. She dabs at your face, pleading for you to not cry. "Oh no, My Lady, Please don't cry! I know the aches are terrible, but you must be strong." But you couldn't be, not when your death was repeating in your mind, not when you were reliving the agony of betrayal as the sword was stabbed into your abdomen. Was it even a real memory? You don't know. "I'll make you some tea, My Lady. That always helps me when...well, the time comes around." More tears spill down your face as she leaves your side, that wasn't what was wrong with you. "It hurts." You groan, pulling your knees to your chest and hiding your face once more as your cried. Lisbeth's sympathetic tone responds with comforting words that fall flat in your current state. "I know, but it is only temporary." In an attempt to raise your spirits she tries to follow up with a a rather unhelpful statement. "And when you have kids you will worry about it less."

Now you felt even more ill, you didn't want children, especially not after you know what awaits you. "The maids often gossip about how gentle young master Mylo is with children, they say he just adores his younger siblings." This information doesn't make you feel any better, in fact you feel worse now. Lisbeth giggles as she puts together the tea, your hear clink of porcelain as she pours it into your favorite cup. "And I'm sure he'll pamper you as well." She returns to your side, placing the tea on your end table and then attempting to unravel your ball of comfort. After failing to make any progress, she huffs and then massages her forehead. "My Lady, please sit up. This tea will help, it came from a knowledgeable merchant." You know Lisbeth was trying her best to raise your spirits, but you didn't want to feel better. Right now you just wanted to be sad and alone. "Please leave, Lisbeth." You muster up enough strength to wave her away, cringing as another wave of pain stings your body. Rolling her eyes, she sits up and then, with much more effort, pulls you into a sitting position. "Now, Now, none of that. You are much too old to pout like a child." Tsking, she holds you up with surprising ease and guides the teacup to your mouth. Reluctantly you drink from the cup, the warm liquid soothing your nerves temporarily as you try to ignore the sharp pains. Once you finish drinking the tea, your personal maid lays you back down. "Lay here and rest, My Lady. I will come back later to check on you." Lisbeth pulls a blanket over your shoulders after slipping your shoes off, though it was hard to get comfortable in your dress you are much too tired to undress. You were quite relieved when Lisbeth didn't bring it up. She soon departed, taking the medicine and dirty teacup with her. You watch as she walks away, eyes bleary with tears that are slowly subsiding now that the pain is easing up. You turn over, placing an arm across your forehead as you process what exactly you've learned.

Those strange flashes of a memory were so coherent and your pain felt real, like you're reliving the past or...the future? It didn't make sense. You sigh and continue staring at the ceiling for a moment more. This was your first official meeting with your spouse, before now the two of you simply exchanged letters and caught brief glances at one another at balls and noble gatherings. Though the two of you never had time to socialize as you both had connections to make. If that was your first in person meeting, why did it seem so familiar? Why did his face make you so sick? You don't recall feeling that way before, did you? Closing your eyes, you try to recall your past meetings or glances rather. But everything was fuzzy and it hurt your brain to try and remember the past. "Maybe it was just a nightmare, yeah, that's all." You try to convince yourself, voice wavering. Exhaling sharply, you give up and hastily sit up. After tossing the covers off, you swing your legs over the bed frame and linger for a minute before slowly rising to your feet and making your way to your dresser. Well, on the bright side, since the doctor assumed you were menstruating he would inform your mother and she would insist that you stay at home so as to not exhaust yourself. This meant you wouldn't have to interact with the other nobles for a few days or perhaps even Mylo, you want to avoid him as long as necessary or at least until you figure out why his face disgust you.

You go through the arduous task of undressing, shedding layer after layer carelessly and allowing it to fall to the ground in a messy pile. Now left in your chemise, you analyze yourself in the mirror, hesitant to face your own gaze. Then you look away and decide it's a good time for a bath. Stepping away from the dresser, after grabbing a nightgown to sleep in, you casually stride to the door on your right wall, behind it is your bathing room. A few years ago your parents renovated the wing you're staying in and attached bathrooms to most of the bedrooms in that area. You didn't particularly mind, it meant you wouldn't have to travel far to bathe. However, you did have to stay in the same wing as Harlee, a man that was once married to your older brother. Harlee is a bitter, older man and always scowls at you, but he truly loved your brother and was just as devastated as you when he learnt of your brother's untimely demise. Since then Harlee has kept to himself and your parents pity him so, they simply refuse to kick him out. Huffing, your nose scrunches as you think about what a nuisance he has become.

Shaking your head, you enter the bathroom and shut the door behind you, you walk forward a few paces and place your gown on a stool close to the bathtub in the room. You slip your chemise off with little grace, briefly catching your figure in the mirror and you freeze, turning slowly to face your reflection your mind resumes it's racing thoughts. There on your stomach is a jagged scar, it's a revolting sight and you rush over to the toilet bowl, bile running up your throat and spilling over the edge of the bowl as your stomach turned. You were there for several moments, gagging unsuccessfully once that first bout of vomit was expelled. Your hands rest on the cool porcelain surface and you whine as your stomach continues protesting this revelation. Was that dream true? Did you go back in time or was this a form of clairvoyance? Should you talk to the priest? Would he believe you if you told him that your fiancé murdered you on the battlefield? You should've worn that tacky armor the knights had offered. You were so cocky, assuming nothing could defeat you just because you won a few battles on familiar ground. "Stupid fool, look where your arrogance has got you." You smack your hand against your head and then sigh, uncertainty plagues you being you stare blankly at the floor. Exhaling, your head turns to the bathtub. "Perhaps a bath will ease me?" You mutter, lifting your body from the floor, putting your weight on your hands that rest on the surface of the toilet.

Shambling to the bath with shaky knees, you lean forward and begin to adjust the water. Faucets are your saving grace, you will always be grateful to the scientist that invented them and the mage that created warming stones. Once you have the water adjusted to your perfect temperature, you carefully slip into the tub and slowly lower yourself into the warm water. It swishes as you sit, water swaying over your body as you again pull your knees to your chests and rest your chin on your knees. Another sigh escapes you and small tears begin to fill your eyes, quietly spilling over the edge of your tear ducts. Surely that dream couldn't be true, would someone you love genuinely betray you like that? You didn't know, how could it be true? "Time loops aren't real...are they?" Your tone is marred with confusion and your voice cracks. You'll just have to talk to the priest, once you 'recovered' of course. For now you'll just try not to think about it, that should be easy, Right? "Right, yeah, just don't think about it." You mutter, sinking further into the water.

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Sam hadn't been very glad about befriending Dash, and the two often got into little arguments, but nonetheless his friends have never been closer. Tucker still was the only one he opened up to, he gave Tuck some details about the alternative future, even he agreed it was a mess.

He spent a load more time with his dad that was for sure. The spark of pain from his wrists reminded him that. Even with his healing, the hours he spent helping his dad tinker away at different things (that would one day be used against him) put a strain on his muscles. Not to mention ghosts attack, which was still a bit of a back and forth battle between him and Lancer.

Another yawn left the teen as he moved to get ready for the day. It was the last day before the weekend and he couldn't wait. He struck a deal with Valerie, Sam, and Tucker to take over ghost hunting for Saturday so he could spend the day teaching Dash and Chris.

That was another thing that seemed to spike up in the time he set things straight. Dash and Chris were quite interested in ghost hunting, and wouldn't let Danny tell them no in helping... Especially as they happened to see the raven haired teen in a less that functional state after a particular brutal fight between Skulker and him without Tucker.

Regardless, he only had a few loose ends he wanted to tie. He didn't want some unnecessary worries and dangers if he could help it.

"Daniel?" Danny gave an awkward wave, floating cross-legged in front of the older halfa. Vlad looked up at the snow white hair teen confusion clear on him.

"Before you say anything, I don't want to fight." Danny landed on his feet, letting the light wash over him and returning him to his usual look. Well his usual nowadays, which consisted of an over-sized sweatshirt and jeans. He decided a NASA one would be fitting. The teen's eyebrows furrowed at the flash of concern that ran through Vlad's indigo eyes. "I want to make a truce. I don't want us to keep fighting with each other. We are the only two of our kind after all."

"And what are you proposing?" Vlad asked, raising one brow. He leaned back and crossed his arms before him. "Last time I check, you were the one to deny me-"

"Me disowning my father, and you marrying my mum are out of the question." Danny growled, the memory of actually losing his dad flashing through him. He took a deep breath, ignoring the furrowed eyebrows of the older man. "Look, I decided I'm tired of constantly having to fight you... Can't we find some middle grounds... please?" Daniel added, his stern face melting to a pleading and exhausted teen. Vlad stared at him, eyes trained on the teen. His mind mulling over what the teen has said and what the teen looked like. Vlad wanted to ignore the jolt of guilt he felt over the teen's rugged look, but found it wasn't quite that simple.

The silence hung in the air, Vlad connecting the pieces. He couldn't believe how heedless he was to how everything was affecting the younger halfa. All of Danny's clothes hung off him, he had dark bags coloring under his bright blue eyes, and the sheer amount of exhaustion that showed through those eyes. Vlad thought for another moment before nodding. All this wasn't doing him much good either, over time the drive he had has began to distinguish. Even if his body didn't quite age as fast, he's mind did.

"Very well, little Badger." Vlad stood, walking towards the teen who seemed to relax a tad bit. "If you allow me to train you."

"I'm not going to-"

"Not in that way Daniel." Vlad shook his head. "A prospect of this truce would be that we do not attack each other, we will not reveal our secret, and we train together. I'd very much like if the only other halfa can defend himself." Danny paused, eyes searching Vlad. When he found nothing, a smile slid onto his face.

"Deal..." He paused another moment, before speaking up. "If you train me, you gotta train my friends in hand-to-hand combat. It's a package deal." Danny shrugged at the look he got.

"Very Well, your two friends may be included-"

"I got two more..." Danny rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly with a small smile. "They don't know about the halfa secret though, so don't give me that look" Danny quickly added at the annoyed look the older halfa had given him. With a sigh, Vlad pinched the bridge of his nose before nodding.

"Very well, we'll start next week."

"Vlad Masters!?" Dash questioned, eyes wide at the thought. He couldn't believe he was going to be trained in ghost hunting by none other than the mayor. Chris on the other hand, looked beyond confused.

"Whose Vlad Master?" Chris questioned, clearly lost on who it was they were talking about. Danny couldn't say he was very surprised, Chris hadn't even know Lancer was the vice principal until well past the start of his time at Casper high.

"Masters." Dash corrected with the shake of his head, disbelief finding it's way onto his face. "He's the Mayor of Amity, you live here!"

"Oh! The creepy guy with the pony tail." Realization crossed the purple hair teen's features, before confusion took over. He kicked his legs softly swinging, before turning to Danny. "How do you know someone like that?"

"College buddies with my parents" Danny answered automatically, before stopping himself and re-answering the question. "We had a childish feud at one point, now he's helping everyone out with hunting."

"Ah... I guess I'm down for it." Chris nodded, turning to the blonde of the group. Only to be met with silence, and said jock staring off into space. His blue eyes looked well past the two, and were slightly glazed over, giving away his day dreamer state. "Dash?" His name seemed to snap him from his thoughts as he turned at focused on the others.

"Uh?" He questioned, confusion clear on him before the thought caught up with him and he remembered what they were talking about. "Yea, I'm all for training with Mayor Masters."

"That's good" Danny smiled. Almost like a switch had been flicked, the conversation switch to their normal conversation. The talk normal consisted of Dash giving a story about his own friends, Chris complaining about something his sister or dad did, or Danny giving another outrageous story about his family. Regardless of what was spoke it stayed light hearted, normal so.

Danny smiled and laughed along to another story from Chris about life before Amity. His smile didn't slip, he was happy. Content even. He felt extremely better than he had the first round about of things. His anger, exhaustion, fear, pain all was slowly diminishing. Life was taking a major upturn, and he was glad. Even with all the pain he had felt, this came out of it. A better life, one where he was thriving rather than just surviving.