Aslan's Disciples

lost & found —e.p. xf!reader

Edmund had a tendency to go on horse rides by himself and end up having to look for a merciful soul to point him back to his own castle. He’d never been quite good without maps, and so he was always leaning on the good will of his subjects to find his way back on time for dinner.

This time, however, he is in thick woodland with no living beings in sight, and the sun is already low enough for him to feel worried about his current whereabouts.

“By the lion’s mane, I cannot believe I took that sharp of a turn from home!” He grunts, always too conscious not to curse in front of his elderly horse. “Can’t you tell where we are, Phillip?”

The horse huffs in tired defeat. “Nay, Your Highness. The treeline is making it difficult to discern. But I do believe we are not that far, as you say, we have been moving in a straight line for all I know.”

All the horse knew, however, was almost as much as Edmund without a map.

“Perhaps we could ask the trees?” Phillip offers.

“If there are any around, maybe. But I do not see any living trees, only these—”

“Your Highness?”

Both, the young king and the horse, give a start and scramble to face the owner of the voice who has call. It seems to be a maiden, which immediately raises suspicion in Edmund.

“Are you truly a King of Narnia?” 

She approaches, and upon closer examination, Edmund notices the faint greenish brown and green freckles often seen on the Narnian nymphs.

“Yes. King Edmund, at your service,” he bows from his spot on the horse. “Beg your pardon, but I seem to have gotten lost.”

“Lost, my king? Lost in your own forests?” She asks with innocent disbelief.

Edmund sulks a bit. “Yes, well… precisely the problem. They are all forests. I wouldn’t get lost if it were a forest, then a beach, then a mountain, and so on and so forth, all different in size and looks, then I would know where I am. But as they’re all the same kind of land…”

“I see…” She looks at his horse, then at him. “And where is it that you wish to go?”

Edmund could feel himself blush at having to explain.

“Cair Paravel.”

“Ah,” the nymph smiles and lifts her arms to be put upon the saddle. “I know the way.”

The young man hesitates, staring at her, but he sees no deceit at play, and so picks her up from the ground and settles her at the front, making sure she’s comfortable. Her sheer dress is made of some kind of petal-like fabric, but it does not tear when she sits like a man on the horse. Her hair smells like dew on mint.

“Follow that path,” she points casually, leaning back to rest on his chest while he pulls on the reign. 

Edmund is teased endlessly by his older brother when he enters the castle with a nymph happily pressed against him. At first he denies to have any interest in the forest girl most ardently, he wasn’t a young teen anymore.

It had no relevance by the time he decided to take another walk, conveniently near the spot where the nymph had found him the last time he’d gone out on his own. He said to himself it was mere curiosity, no nymph had ever displayed such familiarity with him or his siblings, so she had to be a young one, perhaps his age in nymph years.

“Hullo?” He asks somewhat shyly. “Um… Y/N/N?”

“Your Highness!”

Once again the girl makes him jump out of his skin, but he recovers quickly this time, standing tall and bowing gallantly. “Good day.”

She stands with her hands behind her back, smiling bright. “You’ve come back.”

“I seem to have gotten lost again.” 

He doesn’t know why his first instinct is to lie, but seeing her there, so innocent and trusting, makes him feel guilty about coming to look for her. He doesn’t wish to make her uncomfortable. 

“Oh,” she pouts. “Oh, your highness, you get lost too much, I don’t think you should be leaving the castle by yourself this way, you could get hurt!”

“Indeed. I think myself lucky to have stumbled upon your help twice.”

“You did call my name, Just King,” she reminds him.

“Right,” he blushes again. “Well, I didn’t know if you’d hear me. I don’t know where you reside.”

“I’m a dew nymph,” she says happily. “I move with the wind.”

“Ah,” he says, mentally groaning. “So not always on the same place?”

“No. And I quite enjoy traveling all over Narnia. I know it quite well by now—perhaps better than its own king,” she teases him.

Edmund laughs. “Maybe. Would you mind walking me back to the right path, Y/N/N?”

She takes his hand this time, beaming as they start walking since she feels it’s quite an honour to be the one he asks for help. “This way, Your Highness!”

“Again?” The nymph looks quite ruffled the fifth time he goes out to look for her. “My king, it is not safe for you to walk alone at all!”

“M’sorry,” he says, flushed but immensely pleased to see her again. “I just dearly love a walk.”

“Well, walk about your castle! Why must you stray so far from home each time?”

“I get distracted by the beauty of things,” he replies, gazing admiringly to the way her skin looks shiny from the mist covering every inch of her.

“It is a fortune you learned my name and my life source,” she comments innocently, looking at the rose covered in dew he’s holding. “It does summon me much faster than if you were to just call out until your lungs give out.”

“Yes,” His smile widens. “Fortunate indeed.”

“Well then,” she takes the rose and hangs it on the waist of her dress. “Let’s take you home.”

Once again, she takes his hand, and Edmund follows with a satisfied grin on his face.

Edmund's Masterlist

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8. Your heart's been aching, but you're too shy to say it

Who would've thought slapping on a bandana to conceal half your face and wearing funny clothes would unblock a whole new version of you? You speak at the right times, you make clever jokes that have Benedict doubling over with laughter, and your voice is truly hoarse now after talking nonstop over the music.

Benedict was a little awkward at the start of the evening, but four hours later, he's all smiles and giggles. You're a little smug at knowing you've charmed him in person just as you did via text, but then reality sneaks up on you, and reminds you that this isn't meant to last, that in real life he can't stand you, and you messed it up, and there is no fixing it, not even if this tiny part of you has him flushed with glee.

By the end of the night, he walks you out of the party, voice also worn down, but you'd never seen him grin the way he is at the moment, and you thank him for inviting you. Benedict watches as a rough, sudden wind threatens to take your hat, and you frantically sink it back in place. The action shifts Benedict's expression, and he speaks in a tone so full of longing that it makes you want to cry.

"Your name isn't Jean, is it? And it isn't Frog either," his eyes get downright pitiful. "Why can't I know you?"

Panic wraps around your heart and brain, and all the wit that had kept you going through the night abandons you in a single second.

"It was a masquerade, Benedict, I thought the whole point of inviting me to this was that we could stay the same," you realise how awfully unfeeling that sounds, but you can't seem to think of a better way to put it. "We're just... not interested in doing more, right? I mean, you're happy just texting me what vexes you in life, and I'm happy staying... in the chat..."

He is nowhere near convinced by your empty reasonings; you can tell by the way his brow is furrowing the more you speak. 

"I told you I am not fit for real life," you continue, growing anxious, "I wasn't lying. I can't... I don't know how to be present—I just... get stuck..."

Your phone buzzes announcing your Lyft's arrival, and you give a start, pulling out your cell to see where it is, and you glance at Benedict, unable to meet his eyes, as you bid him farewell in the most horribly awkward way possible. 

"Thank you for tonight. Bye."

You get the worst anxiety attack of the year as soon as you get home. 

Everything was going so well... Why did he have to go and ask that? But most of all, why couldn't you be normal just once in your life? It was so exhausting, having to run in circles around issues that didn't exist, that you knew you had no reason to pay attention to, yet you did, because you were weird, and you were so close to being happy thanks to Benedict not once but twice, and on both occasions, you stomped the opportunity like it was a filthy thing to have around. 

How could he like you now, when you had shown him you were a mess in all forms? The librarian was a bitch, and Frog was an empty shell, so really he had no reason—

Ribbit.

Your hand flies to your phone and opens his chat, wanting to be done with it if he's going to dump the friendship, but instead, you read a completely different message:

Ben: Hope you got home safe

Ben: I'm sorry if I pushed. I really liked spending time with you, and I think...

Ben: I don't understand why you think we can't

Ben: please don't be mad

Ben: I want to be your friend

You drop the phone and fall back on the bed, crying softly at his words. He wants? Wants? 

What did you do to deserve his kindness? You create inconveniences for him at work every week, yet he buys you meals so you don't go hungry. You leave him without a second thought after he so kindly invites you to a fancy event, and he comes to your chat and practically begs you to assure him he still has you. He must be so lonely. You didn't believe him at first, but now... Now you feel gross for toying with him in and out of your frog skin.

You: I want to be your friend too

You: I don't know why I do those things, I'm sorry Ben

You: You don't push, I'm the only one who's doing things wrong

Ben: You didn't do anything wrong tonight, I promise

Ben: It's okay if you felt cornered when I asked all of those things, it's not my business

You: Friends should be allowed to ask things, though

You: I promise to try

Ben: Try what?

You: Being brave

Your head hurts after the ungodly amount of time you have spent sobbing onto your pillow. Luckily for you, Benedict hasn't come to the library —yet— or he'd be all over trying to find out who was the absolute icon who made you cry. Well, he'd be delighted to know it was his own doing.

Lady Danbury arrives then, and you keep your head down, pretending to be double-checking some notes.

"You had me fooled," she says in a strangely cheery mood. "I thought you and the Bridgerton boy couldn't stand one another. That's a strange little act to put. What for?"

It makes you look up, forgetting the puffiness of your eyes. "What? There's no act. He really doesn't like me."

Lady Danbury laughs. "Well, I always knew he was a strange man, but I never thought he'd find it fun to invite someone he doesn't like to his mother's masquerade when he's already surrounded by people he loathes in them!"

Your heart falls straight to your arse at her words. And it only gets worse when Ann joins the conversation, hearing it and thinking the secret is out.

"Oh, so they finally went out? Thank god, I've been telling her for months that she should've gotten the conversation out of Tinder and turned it into something worth her time."

"It's NOT Tinder!" You blush aggressively, losing your cool entirely. "I would rather join a polyamorous Mormon marriage than use that horny-infested app!"

A laugh erupts from the entrance, and they all turn to see Benedict standing there, smile wide and eyes bright with amusement at her outburst. He almost bounces on his heels with the delight of witnessing such a spectacle from her. 

"Morning," he smirks that annoyingly pretty boyish gesture you seem to have memorised by now.

You turn to Lady Danbury and whisper as quietly as you can.

"He doesn't know it's me."

Then you scurry out of sight, red-faced and dreading the questioning that will no doubt rain down on you once the man leaves. As you go, Benedict's face turns slightly contemplative. Something about your voice when it gets louder than usual reminds him of something shapeless in his mind, like a long-lost, half-formed memory.

Next Chapter –>

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Sunlight II -e.p. xf!reader

The trip had come as a surprise. He didn’t ask, only announced one early morning that you had to get ready because the carriage was waiting, and that he’d feed you on the way. A dreadful image appeared in your mind’s eye, of you being brutally killed and disposed of in the forest, but then you thought better—he would not, could not, kill you. It had become blatantly clear to you why he’d taken you as his prisoner: Kind Edmund was lonely.

You would’ve felt bad for him, even shown some grace, if he hadn’t taken you as his prisoner to begin with. You would’ve been his friend had he asked… 

But that was also an empty thought, for you knew now what he’d done to the White Witch, and you knew he’d decided to continue with the damage instead of reverting it once he stepped into the throne. A talking dove had told you so, being so very careful to nest at a spot by your window Edmund could not easily notice lest he looked for it. 

She knew it all, the beginnings of Narnia, the Witch’s curse, and then Edmund’s arrival, a small hope to the natives that soon died when they realised he was to grow just like the evil queen. And so you knew, even if you’d started as friends, you would’ve ended up in the same spot you were now, disgusted and afraid.

When you told her about the trip and your small worries, she was quick to ease you.

“The King won’t do you hurt,” she’d said. “As long as the sunlight in Narnia remains white, not gold.”

How she knew this, you didn’t know, but you trusted her. And so you went along with Edmund’s request, albeit with contempt. 

The carriage had been deemed useless once you entered the more abandoned parts of the country. It all had a very sad feeling to it, like a house with signs of having been well lived in at some point, now nothing but debris and ice; it spoke of a world long dead, forgotten. How could the king see all this and not feel moved in the least?

“Be careful where you step,” he called behind her, voice as distant as his physical self. “Just because the snow is thinner around here doesn’t mean it’s less dangerous.”

“I am not an imbecile, I know to watch my step,” you huffed, tugging at the thick coat that was starting to feel too warm and heavy. The trees are growing further apart, and you’re capable of seeing some white, but deliciously tepid light caressing the horizon.

“You are rather beastly,” he says off-handedly. “I give in to your wishes of coming south for sunlight, and all you do is bark. Bark and hiss, you cannot seem to decide what kind of feral thing you wish to resemble.”

Your face flushes with indignation. 

“So you think it merciful, do you?” You turn to face him, looking at the dark, unmoving figure that he is slowly approaching. “Three months captive should be overlooked after one day walking around without knowing where. For all I know, you could be planning to kill me and hide my body somewhere around here.”

“That is ridiculous, Y/N,” He sighs tiredly, finally reaching your spot and looking right at you, an ironic smirk on his face. “Why would I hide your body? Who would imprison me for your death? The rats would thank me for the extra protein, at best.”

That is beyond what you can stand. Swiftly, you turn around to get back the distance he’d walked, but on the third step, your heel flies forward out of control, and you can see yourself landing with your head on some treacherous root, when he stops you with the reflexes of a wolf.

He towers over your head from behind, holding you with both arms under each armpit, a fiery expression on his face that, for just a short second, looks just a bit frantic. Scared.

It is surprising what just a bit of sunlight does to his complexion. His waxy skin now seems to glow ivory, a healthy blush as if tinted with strawberry covers his cheeks and lips, and his eyes, so dark and uninterested back in his castle, now catch the light in golden specks around his pupils. He looks alive and handsome because of it.

He eyes your face just as intently, and you can feel a sorely missed heat on your cheek from the sun and the exercise. Maybe you are no longer pale, but the frailness of your condition might not be overlooked still, since he just saved you from cracking your skull.

He pulls you up to a standing position, with his arms around you, he turns you to face him properly, and his gaze seems stuck on your mouth for a second too long—his lips part, and he breathes through them, inhaling deeply once, exhaling, then inhaling once more, and just when you can feel your own face about to inch closer…

“See, why would I waste my energy killing you when I can just let you wander the forest alone and have it over with?”

He lets go of you, almost roughly, in the way you feel his hands getting yanked away from your waist.

“You have four hours before the light goes,” he tells her, already turning to take a seat on a big, knotty root of an ancient tree. “Have your fill.”

You stare at him, caught off guard. “You don’t care if I run?”

He looks at you, and for a moment, he’s the one who looks bitter and frail. “And where would you go? There is no safe place left in Narnia since the White Witch’s reign. I know,” he lowers his gaze, voice small out of nowhere. “I checked.”

You resume your walk with care, and as you go, you think of his last words, and the little boy he had been once, a long time ago.

Edmund's Masterlist

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7. I want you to know

Benedict suspects he's regressing to his younger years, because why is he having an active feud with a librarian who's at least a few years his junior, like he's still an art student? This is some kind of identity crisis at the very least; he hadn't felt this bitter about life in general since he was locked up in Bridgerton House, forced to attend every little party their family was invited to.

Maybe that's why, when his mother gives him a call to let him know they'll be having the annual masquerade, Benedict's brain gets stuck in his old ways, and he tries to make a believable excuse. Unfortunately, he's done this one time too many.

"I had Hyacinth check in with your assistant before calling," the woman's voice says harshly through the phone. "Must you always be so difficult, Benedict? You're a grown man, and there are ways for you to get through the evening if you dare try. So try. Bring someone along if you must, but please, do not spend the weekend alone, like I'm sure you're planning. I won't take a no for an answer."

His mother hangs up the phone, and he's left to ruminate on the situation. He could invite Ann... but if having beef with the librarian is embarrassing, having the young intern as a date to the masquerade is even worse. Not that he dislikes Ann, but he should go with someone his age, or the sight will send his mother into a seizure. 

Benedict goes through the names of people he knows, but he's not very close to. He thinks of whom he might be less uncomfortable, but they all seem just as difficult to entertain by himself, and his eyes drift over to his phone again. And he thinks, thinks, and picks up the phone. He unlocks it, goes into the dating app... and opens Frog's chat.

Benedict starts his week without hearing from his friend. He goes over the texts they sent, and he thinks that perhaps answering their messages about him being needy with an invitation to meet in person was rather strange, but he's gone and asked, now he ought to wait.

He checks every hour or so, though, to see if he hasn't been blocked, to see if Frog has opened the text, at least, but so far there haven't been any changes. He goes to the library to work on some research. He'd do it in his office, but he's come to discover that there is a difference between the silence in a busy room and that of a deserted one. He likes the sound of people existing around him as much as he previously enjoyed watching.

He spots Y/N coming into the library and tenses, ready to be thrown unkind comments or be thrown out altogether, but she seems off today, almost on autopilot as she reaches the main desk and sits in her chair, typing away on her computer without really paying attention to what her hands do.

God, he's bothered just by looking at her. She's so scowling, and snarky, and whenever she's glaring at him, all Benedict wants to do is get his hands on her and... grab her by the hair and... see if her mouth tastes as good as it looks...

What.

She pauses, looks down, and Benedict grimaces. He'd felt a little bit petty coming in an hour prior, and left a highly detailed sketch of his cat Picasso with a very sour expression (he'd used an actual photo as inspo) and signed it with "that's you >:(" and an arrow pointing at the grouchy cat.

Y/N looks up, spots him, and scowls. Benedict darts his eyes away, feeling himself blush and mouthing a curse. He thinks she'll find something to get him out of the library for sure now, and Benedict berates himself. Why did he have to go and test her patience? It was the same kind of behaviour that had his mother lashing out at every little thing with him nowadays...

He waits, and waits, barely focusing on his research—but the moment never arrives. He dares to glance her way, and he finds her there still, typing away on the computer, albeit scowling more than before, but seemingly with no intention to strike back. Perhaps, he tells himself (and this is really the first time he's considering it), the librarian has more going on in her life than their stupid rivalry. Could it be that she's having troubles outside of work? And if so, maybe Benedict should cut her some slack.

He gathers his things to go have lunch, and as he walks past the desk, he notices Y/N not even looking up, but this time she's not willfully ignoring. Ann, he realises, is nowhere to be seen, and so there is a pile of folders to get through, and just one person to get it done.

He walks out of the library with this in mind. He has his quiet meal in a restaurant just around the corner from the academy, and as he makes his way back, he spots a new pastry shop with those novelty cakes the youth seem to love posting pictures of, and he lingers. Should he...?

No, that's just weird. 

She probably won't have time to get out and get lunch, though...

But she usually has her lunch in that ridiculous bright yellow bag of hers; today is most likely no exception.

Yes. He resumes his walk, passing the display at a steady pace. 

Thirty seconds later, he's back and swinging the door open with haste.

Y/N is standing behind the desk when he returns, and he spirals in the ten steps that it takes him to walk from the library entrance to where she is. Should he hand it over before leaving? Should he give it now? Would it be awkward to stay after? What if she refuses to take it?

"I bought you this," he blurts out as soon as he reaches her, slipping the cake slice towards her on the desk.

Y/N freezes, looks up at him, then at the cake, then around. At the lack of answer, Benedict continues his rambles out of a nervous need to fill in the silence.

"I noticed Ann isn't here and that the pile of folders isn't getting any smaller, so you probably won't go out to have lunch. And, um, well, I know you bring that eyesore of a lunchbag with you every day, but I thought this would... I don't know..."

He sighs, the reasons escaping him as he settles for a simpler conclusion. "I'm very sorry about the sketch I left here a few hours ago. You do not look like that, you're... not bad looking at all. Please accept this sponge cake as my formal apology."

"All of it?"

Benedict looks up. "What?"

"You apologise for all you've done, or just the sketch?" She asks in that even, direct tone of hers.

"Oh," he pauses, then frowns, one hand rubbing in circles at his stomach while he ponders. "I don't think a cake makes for a proper apology to encompass it all—do you?" He asks, nose scrunching in confusion.

He might be seeing things, but there is a twitch at the corner of her mouth for half a second before she schools it back to normal.

"Not one this small," she concedes, yet her hand reaches for it and puts it next to her computer. "But I can forget about the sketch."

Benedict's whole body relaxes, then preens, and he tries not to think about how something inside his chest purrs at Y/N's blatant approval. 

Frog: K

Frog: Send the address and I'll meet you there.

Frog: I'll be a cowboy bandit

Benedict reads and rereads the text for weeks until the masquerade arrives, and then he's waiting by the venue entrance, bouncing on his feet impatiently, wondering what it'll be like to spend time with Frog in person. 

"What's that supposed to be? Banker guy on the weekends?"

Benedict whirls around to the sound of a somewhat familiar voice, but gets distracted by just how much smaller Frog is than he had in mind. It also doesn't help that they're wearing a large coat and a cowboy hat that conceals all of their face unless they look up at Benedict.

The man bursts out laughing, forgetting the way his friend just tried to poke fun at him, because the sight is just too much. "Oh, god," he wheezes. "You look like a twelve-year-old!"

"I do not!" Frog squeaks. 

Their voice is somewhat feminine, but then again, it really isn't Benedict's business to figure them out if they're going through the trouble to disguise themselves like this. Though it is weird, he won't deny that, just how adamant this person is about safekeeping their identity.

"You're downright adorable," he coos, pushing the hat lower on Frog's face teasingly. "Come on, then, bandit, I'm freezing my arse out here."

"That's what I was saying," replies his friend, having to raise their voice over the music to be heard, since the lower half of their face is covered with a red bandana. "You're not wearing a costume, you're all dressed up! And I saw some blokes enter before I got to you, and they were wearing fun disguises. You're cheating."

"I'm not cheating," he huffs. "This is my designated disguise. I'm a..." he pauses to remember what he'd first said when his mother had asked years ago. "Casanova from a Spaniard romance."

Frog scoffs. "Lazy work is what you are!"

Benedict finds it quite comforting that their voice sounds exactly as it does in text: Cheery, teasing, and clever. It makes it easier for him to slip into the dynamic they have online.

"Say what you will, it still works with the ladies," he smirks, winking at them.

Frog looks up blankly. Benedict just realised that they heavily darkened the skin around their eyes with eyeshadow, so they look as if covered in soot, very wild west, but the eyes make him pause. He just got a most strange feeling as if...

"There you are!" 

His mother takes him by the arm. On instinct, Benedict reaches out and grasps Frog by the shoulder, pulling them along. They're very light, which is surprising considering the number of layers his friend is wearing.

"Mother, this is my friend–er..." With dread, he realises he cannot introduce this person as "Frog".

"Jean." His friend is quick to reply. Something in Benedict is certain that this is just another fake name thrown into the mix.

"Oh. Lovely to meet you," Violet eyes Frog's costume with some intrigue, but moves on pretty quickly. "Here."

She places him at a table with his name on it —literally— and he picks up the small tag with a sigh. "So who am I sitting with this year, hm? I am quite surprised I haven't fallen off the grace of every wealthy old hag there is in the country—"

"Some of us old hags have enough sense of humour to still find you tolerable, boy."

Benedict and Frog both turn sharply at the voice, and this would've piqued Benedict's interest if it weren't for the way his own stomach drops. "Lady Danbury."

The woman turns to his guest and smiles. "And who is this?"

"Jean. They're, er—a friend. From..."

"Bookclub." Frog finishes once more with utter confidence.

"Bookclub?" His mother asks with surprise.

"I read," he replies defensively.

"Quite plenty," Frog nods. "Spaniard romance novels."

Benedict snorts, but schools it by clearing his throat. The two women give him sceptical looks, but they start their own conversation, leaving him off the hook, and he turns to his friend, eyes bright with amusement.

"I don't know if I should thank you, or strangle you."

"Easy there, Benny, I'm armed," Frog jokes, showing him a gun toy meant for blowing bubbles.

Throughout the night, there isn't a moment in which Benedict isn't talking with Frog and having fun, which is completely new to him. There aren't any awkward moments where he feels like he's being misinterpreted, nor like he accidentally upset his friend. 

He does, however, keep on feeling this odd sensation of familiarity, not the mushy kind of "feels like a lifetime", but the sensation that there is something about Frog that he has seen before somewhere else; he just can't tell what. Though of course, there isn't much to go by, so it could be a case of, there is so little to know that it feels like everything else, if that makes sense at all.

All in all, he's having fun, and that's all he cares about.

Next Chapter –>

Taglist.

Sunlight -e.p. xf!reader

A/N: Edmund is an only child in this bc in my head that's the only way he would've stayed evil lmao

Edmund hadn’t seen another being like him in almost twenty years of his ruling over Narnia, so when he got told that a girl had been seeing in Cair Paravel’s abandoned castle, he wasted not time to go there.

It wasn’t hard to find you, you were disoriented and cold, and he immediately made use of his gallant ways to entrap you, just like Jadis had taught him. You weren’t as young as he’d been when he’d first entered the land, and he wondered how you’d managed to get so far without being noticed before.

“Have you been living here for long?” He asks, feigning concern as he hands you a warm cup of hot cocoa.

“I just… walked,” you respond, still shivering around the mouthful. “I can’t remember. I arrived in a raft, and walked up the beach until I found that old building.”

“Interesting,” he says briefly, eyeing you with barely contained greed. “I shall tend to you.”

You didn’t know you’d fallen onto the wrong hands until it was too late. He’d locked you up in a large bedchamber, the fire was lit, but it didn’t mean it was cozy. It was a lifeless land, and everything in it made you feel small and frightened.

He’d planned to kill you in your sleep, as he’d done to Jadis once he’d had enough of her, but for the last few years, the ruthless king had felt lonely and frankly bored, and you were a fun little thing that maybe he’d be able to shape into a proper companion, as long as you behaved, and didn’t wander too far away from his castle.

You didn’t trust Edmund, plain and simple. He had the cold gaze of a man who’s killed and doesn’t regret it, the voice of a man who had known no warmth in life. You couldn’t believe him when he promised not to harm you as long as you obeyed, but there was little else you could do, having no recollection of your past, nowhere to run to. Here at least you had food, and clothes, and a bed to sleep in.

And he wasn’t mean, he tended to ignore her most of the day, only speaking during meals, or if he was bored, he’d go to find her curled up in her room, as usual.

Edmund didn’t came into the world being evil. He was a temperamental child who got taught bad things were the norm, and once he was old enough to know better, he was far too comfortable in the dark to stray from it. But you… you were stirring something he’d long buried deep within his chest.

“You look frail,” he commented one evening, watching her from the chair near the fireplace. “You don’t eat enough.”

“I look pale,” you’d corrected him with a sort of grumpiness. “It has nothing to do with the meals, your highness. I do not get enough sunlight—I frankly do not know how you’ve managed to live on without it for so long.”

Edmund mustered a barely-there smirk. You were too liberal with the way you spoke to him, because you were unhappy. He didn’t care, for it amused him, but he cared about keeping you alive long enough to keep him company, so he took the news to heart and silently began to plan a journey to the south, where the snow was not as heavy, and you might catch some warmth during the early hours.

“Sunlight,” he sighs, pretending to brush you off. “There is fire right here—this is sunlight on a smaller scale, but just as useful. Come closer and get your fill.”

You get up with loads of dignity and sit on the rug by his feet. You wouldn’t be sitting there if you had a choice, but he tended to speak less if you did, and you weren’t in the mood to listen to his loathesome conversation.

You kept your eyes on your needlework, determined to pretend he wasn’t there. Edmund watched you the whole time. 

Edmund's Masterlist

Taglist.

6. You wouldn't get this from any other guy

If there was any part of you that felt guilty after mistreating Benedict, it certainly died after his childish behaviour in front of Lady Danbury, with whom you had an awkward talk to make sure she didn't believe you were intimidated. You were intimidated, but it wasn't Benedict's business whether you intended to tell Lady Danbury how you felt. 

His actions sparked a sudden animosity between the two of you, petty in nature, and unnoticeable to most, but you both knew. You had access to a part of Benedict's brain he didn't know, and you enjoyed putting him in the spot indirectly, mentioning in passing to Lady Danbury how you were sure he was available for that one event you knew he found loathsome, and did he say he had plans? He must be confused; you distinctly remember him telling Ann he had all the weekend to himself.

Benedict discovered what you were doing soon enough and started to retaliate. Poor Ann was caught in the line of fire, and she was constantly slipping information to him on accident, not even noticing that she was, because Benedict was particularly good at distracting her with another question completely out of the subject involving you, and she'd soon forget what she'd said.

"Ann, what did you tell him this time?" You arrive fuming, leaving your bag on your chair as you pace behind the desk like a caged lion. 

The girl blinks, confused. "Why? What happened?"

"He signed me up to co-host the next lecture in the auditorium!" You hate having to organise big events, and he somehow found out and heatedly assured the head of the department that you were totally available to set it up on the day, you had "personally" told Benedict.

"I honestly can't tell if I ever told him you dislike that," Ann replies, but looks sincerely guilty. "I'm sorry, Y/N, he's the one memorising every tiny bit that escapes me, how am I to notice when he's so good at making me talk?"

You want to yell at her 'Well, then stop talking to him!' but that's not fair, she's allowed to be friends with Benedict. Matter of fact, it might be for the best, since Frog has also decided to give him the cold shoulder. Not that he'd noticed, because he clearly got angry at you for calling him needy, and hasn't texted you since.

"Fine. It's no matter," you sigh, pushing your hair back with both hands and breathing deep. "It isn't your fault that he's a massive—"

"I hope you're not talking about me," comes a voice you've quickly grown to loathe. "But if you are, I hope that adjective comes with a compliment."

You don't turn to look at him; instead, you pick up a folder and go away to take care of your chores. "See what he wants and send him on his way," you tell Ann quietly. "And do not let him dally by the desk."

You don't go too far away, though, having to fixa shelf that's just a few steps away from the desk. 

"Afternoon, Ann, how're you doing today?" Benedict continues as if you don't exist.

"All well, Professor, how can I help you today?"

"Well, do you remember barely a fortnight ago I'd taken a novel home with me? I got a notice that I was already to pay a fee for an overdue return."

"Did you?" You can feel Ann's accusatory glare fleetingly go to you before continuing. "You're quite right, Professor, the fee should not have been sent before today." 

"Well, it showed up right as I was closing my office hours yesterday. Of course, I have no problem paying the fee if that's how punctual you are for things that benefit the library," His voice seems to grow a bit in volume at that part, as if his face is turned directly at you, but you keep your back turned, neck burning with annoyance. "I just want to know for future reference, so I don't get banned!"

He laughs as if the idea is ridiculous, but you get a twinge of embarrassment because that was more or less the idea. Little acts of misconduct would mark him as an undesirable in the library. Was it fair, or mature? No. But also, it was your library, and he was bothering you.

Benedict pays the fee, hands over the book —he'd already finished it, anyway, just forgot to bring it over because he had oh so many things to do outside this library, unlike some less fortunate people— and a few minutes later after his departure you return to the desk, where Ann is already waiting to give you a piece of her mind.

"Yes, yes, alright," you grump, snatching the fee you'd sent over to his office and scrunching it into a small paper ball, tossing it into the bin. "Got a bit ahead of myself, but you heard the man, he'd forgotten anyway, he was going to stretch out his time with the book just to vex me."

"Well, maybe he wouldn't be doing it if you didn't do your own share of vexing first."

"He's only acting this way because he's a spoiled man who thinks everyone is obligated to be nice to him, as if being good-looking equals to the grace of god, or something."

Ann snorts, her annoyance dropping. "You know, you two are more similar than you know. Perhaps that's why you get all fussy around one another, people like you tend to avoid mirrors."

Another silent weekend has you wanting to toss your phone at the wall. If only your friends had the decency to be available when your head is the loudest, then maybe you wouldn't be thinking of Benedict nearly as much. Maybe that's why it stings so much when he continues to dig the knife deeper into the fact that you don't have a lot going on in comparison to him, Mr Trust-fund.

It's not fair that you're tagged as the vengeful library bitch when he's doing just as much, and everyone only rolls their eyes and seems to think he's alright, simply because it's only doing it to you, and you're not all that likeable to most. He, however, is well-loved. Despite his lack of censure when talking, despite his secret dislike for large crowds, they love him. Why? Does it really come down to the fact that he's a man who knows what he wants and you're a young woman who ought to be grateful?

Or perhaps, a small voice whispers into your reticent ear, perhaps it is the fact that he tries anyway, although he knows it will likely never work, Benedict pushes through. Opposite to your stagnant position in life, non-threatening, comfortable, but all so utterly unfulfilling. 

How much longer are you willing to keep yourself like this?

Your phone ribbits, and you freeze. No way.

You turn it over to read the screen, and stare at it.

Ben: Sorry I haven't responded, life has been a lot lately

Ben: But I don't want to think about that right now, that's boring

Ben: Listen, we've been talking for a while, and you're someone I really like talking to, and there's this thing approaching and something in me doesn't feel able to endure it unless I have a friend with me, so

Ben: Would you like to come to a masquerade?

Next Chapter –>

Taglist.

5. I wouldn't fall for someone I thought couldn't misbehave

Benedict approaches the desk in a sort of daze, softly placing the book there. Ann looks up and smiles. 

"Ready to leave, Professor?" She asks, pulling the visitor's sheet. "Are you taking that book out of the library?"

"Yes, please," he replies, focusing on signing off. 

"Did you see Y/N?"

"Yes."

"Isn't she a dear?" Ann asks adoringly.

"I'm sure she is," Benedict mumbles, scratching his ear to get rid of the discomfort, yet unable to hide the hint of bitterness in his tone. "To her friends. Is she always so mean to others, though?"

"Mean?" Ann blinks, clearly thinking he's confused. "Y/N's not mean, why, she's the easiest-going girl I know. Bit quiet, perhaps, but that's it."

"So it's just me she treats badly. Brilliant," he continues, lip twitching in annoyance as he takes the book. "Just my luck."

"She's been mean to you?" The redhead frowns. "I thought you were getting along! Don't you often go and have lunch together?"

"It appears she's not fond of it," he continues, needing some validation. "I'm not a bother, am I?"

"No! Maybe she's just having a bad day, that would be more likely, Y/N does have a tendency to bottle things up, and she might find it easier to blow up with someone who isn't... a risk." She blushes a bit.

Oh. That, he can understand. Y/N is that type of person who never speaks up for herself but finds it easy to take it out on others. She didn't seem to be that way when they first met, but then again, she barely talks in his presence, and he hadn't really seen her on a bad day, as far as he knew, so that must be it.

"I see," he hums. "Well, thank you, Ann. See you."

Benedict: Do you think I come off as bossy, sometimes? 

Benedict: Maybe bossy isn't the right word

Benedict: Demanding, maybe? Entitled?

Benedict stares at the texts—still unread—and sulks while revising every interaction he ever had with Y/N. He can't say that he saw any signs of major discomfort from her. As Ann had said, she seemed quiet and shy, but never angry at having to deal with him. So why did she react that way in the library?

"Benedict, if you're going to be on your phone the whole time, then why did you come at all?" Colin asks, yanking his brother's phone out of his hand and placing it face down on the table.

"Sorry," the man says, closing his eyes tightly and rubbing them with the heels of his palms, then looks at his brother and sister with irritation. "Do you think I can be overbearing?"

Eloise lowers the coffee cup from her lips and raises a brow. "What's that about?"

"I met this woman, and she's giving me all kinds of mixed signals—not even in the way you're thinking," he gives Colin a look, who's already grinning. "At first, she seemed okay with my approach, then went for my throat out of nowhere. I can't understand it."

"Was she nice to you at the start?"

"She's kept to herself, but yes, she wasn't particularly rude—until yesterday, that is."

Colin stares at Eloise intently, and she scoffs when understanding what he's trying to imply. "What, because I'm mean to most men, does that suggest I know what's wrong with her?"

"Maybe if I tell you how it went, you could," Benedict proposes, really wanting some help, so he tells them the whole thing.

Colin sinks back on his seat and puffs out air like he's exhausted. "She sounds like Eloise, alright."

"No, she doesn't," Eloise scowls. "I think she's like Francesca, if you ask me. Because I am mean to most men, and she's only mean to you. Francesca is like that; she's very nice to most people, except those who nag her too much."

"But you can't say I've nagged her too much! I barely see her!" Benedict argues heatedly. "And she went off on me as if I'd spent all this time making her do things—it was one thing I asked, and one thing I complained about, and I had every right to complain, and she overreacted."

"Oh, yes, you should definitely tell her she's overreacting, bet she's gonna love that," Eloise says sarcastically.

Benedict rolls his eyes, tilting his head back in exasperation. "Well, obviously I won't. But I'm telling you because surely you can see this is wrong? Isn't it?" He's embarrassed to hear how upset he sounds.

Colin supports his chin on one hand and shrugs, unconcerned. "If she's as jumpy as Francesca, you shouldn't try to pin the blame on anyone, brother. Things just set off those kinds of people, and it's just how they're wired, not much you can do."

"Well, I sure as hell can stop her from using me as a punching bag," Benedict says indignantly.

Eloise snorts. "Now you're overreacting. She was a little mean, but that doesn't make her a bully, Benedict. You disrupted her routine, that's what. And you're sulky because that's the first woman who does not blush and fluster at your undivided attention."

"I am not that vain!" He argues, blushing himself. "But it's just—I was on my best behaviour and she—"

"Ah, so that's it, then," Colin smirks. "Is this you trying to show the world you can play nice if you want?"

Benedict gets serious, suddenly no longer in the mood to talk. "No."

Eloise and Colin share a look. The girl speaks. "I know Mum was a bit hard on you at her last event, but—"

"This has nothing to do with that," he replies dryly.

"Alright, fine, it has nothing to do with mum," Eloise relents, "but it does have to do with you not letting things go. Let the poor girl alone, Benedict; she doesn't want to deal with you."

"But why not?" He complains childishly.

"No bloody clue, you're such a cherub..." Colin mutters.

Frog: You come off as insecure

Frog: And needy

Frog's replies had displeased him so, he'd decided to let them on seen. But they were true, and he knows it. He's always asking for assurance, always asking for help to navigate adult life, when he should've learned all this a decade ago. It makes him angry that he's just learning to be a whole person, but what angers him the most is how you got away with not trying.

He's formed an acquaintanceship with Ann, and from what he's heard, you're great at evading all kinds of issues by simply dropping them. If you don't like something, you walk away. You didn't like Benedict, so you dropped him like a crumpled-up paper into the bin and forgot he was ever in your life. That's enough to boil anyone's blood, he thinks. Not because he's been constantly shrugged off and put aside, no, that would be stupid. This is about your lack of sympathy.

He's just arrived at the library to return the book he'd taken, and is only starting a lighthearted chat with Ann when you and Lady Danbury arrive. He greets the older lady, but merely glances at you as you circle the desk and pretend he's not there, immediately starting on your workload of the day.

"Well, I shant distract you any longer," he flashes a smile at Ann. "See you."

"Leaving already?" Lady Danbury asks in surprise. "That'd be the first time I don't see you avoiding your office hours."

"What can I say? I've come to realise that avoidance is a gross habit," he states, emphasising the word and feeling a sort of sick pleasure at how you stiffen with it. He spots the binder full of colourful folders, and a terrible, evil impulse takes over him completely. "I've always liked how thorough you are with everything, Lady Danbury. Pity Y/N detests it, hm?"

You look up right away, eyes wide and skin paling. Lady Danbury's brow rises in surprise. "Excuse me?"

"Oh yeah, she complains to Ann all the time about how senseless she finds it to separate everything in different colours when it's the same people doing all of it. She's intimidated by you, of course, like we all are, so maybe that's why you didn't know," Benedict laughs, pretending to be painfully obnoxious. "Yes. Well, goodbye!"

He turns away, a venomous happiness taking possession of him as he leaves the women in a stunned silence. Let's see how you skip out of that one, you flea.

Next Chapter –>

Taglist.

4: You know the rules, and so do I

"Good morning, Y/N," Ann throws a playful glance your way. "He's back."

"Professor Bridgerton? What does he want now?" You groan.

"Your attention, I bet," the girl grins, handing you a lilac folder. "But he also claims to be looking for a book."

"Very well," you sigh, taking the folder and looking around the library. "Where is he?"

Ann points at a table near a window. "If you have trouble finding him, just follow the sounds of lovesick students sighing at the sight of him."

You walk towards the side Ann pointed you to and find Benedict leafing through some papers, his brow furrowed while he focuses on the task. You take a few seconds to ogle at him while he's not paying attention, then clear your throat as you step forward. 

"Professor," you greet him politely.

Benedict looks up and smiles. "Y/N, hi. It's Benedict."

"You do not have to wait for me, you know? Ann could've told you where the book was, and you could've fetched him yourself."

"But I wanted to see you," he pouts, trying to be playful. "We didn't see each other the whole weekend. As friends, we are meant to reunite on Monday and catch up."

You remain unmoved. If you could, you'd tell him he already knows what you did over the weekend, because Frog spent most of the afternoons chatting with him. "What book do you need, then?"

He relents, but a smile replaces his pout, letting you know he's equally amused by your indifference. "Fine. I suppose I'll wait til lunch to get a proper reply out of you—I never knew such a dedicated librarian. You don't have to stick to the role like this, you know? Lady Danbury wouldn't fire you if she caught you talking."

"The book, Professor Bridgerton," you insist.

Benedict sighs. He picks up his things and stands, pulling out his phone to show you the book he's looking for. "There."

You raise a brow. "Oh? I thought you'd be looking for something in relation to your courses..."

"Oh no, I do not mind buying those, but it is rather vexing when I buy a copy of a book and hate it. But there is a library near me with a wide variety of titles, and I thought I'd give it a try," he smiles, following you as you go to a nearby search station and type into the desk computer the title and author of his book. "That way, if I do end up liking it, I can just buy a nice copy for myself later."

The book pops up on the screen, you read the location, mutter it to yourself to memorize it, and resume your path. "And you thought of it until now?"

"I didn't have much interest in visiting this library until now," he says amicably. "It's fun, visiting friends between lessons."

"You keep saying that." You speak without looking at him. "What makes you think we're friends?"

"Well, as we're both adults, I thought it unnecessary to ask, but we do have lunch together, and we talk." He frowns, though it's more like a pensieve gesture. "Though I do wonder why you resist it so much."

"I do not resist." You turn a corner, feeling warmer the longer he interrogates you. "Your interest feels misplaced, that's all. Unless you thought talking to me would grant you the license to borrow books for longer–"

"No, no, the books were an afterthought," he brushes off. "I told you."

You sigh, picking up your pace as you reach the bookshelf and look around. "It's about Lady Danbury, then. Because I'm her protegee?"

"Wrong again," he tilts his head, squinting. "You're looking for reasons as to why I'd be nice to you, when I already told you why. Are you always this distrustful?"

You don't reply; instead, you reach for his book and hand it over. "Ann will help you with the paperwork. I must tend to my tasks." You show him the lilac folder. 

"Alright. Are we having lunch together?"

You throw him a sidelong glance. "If I'm here by the time you come looking..."

"I'd like you to confirm you'll be here." He stays put, crossing his hands in front of him, the book resting against his thigh. "Otherwise I'll think I'm a bother."

You stare at him, unblinkingly. Part of you wants to go off and tell him he's sneaking into your routine without your asking, and therefore, he has no right to be this way. Then the quieter voice in your head picks up on the fact that you haven't exactly done much to push him away, and you have the feeling that he would, if you asked, just like he's kept it friendly with Frog, because that's the way of things.

You should. Because if you truly befriend him, then how can you, at this point, confess that you're the person he's been talking to on the dating app to rant about his troubles, without sounding like a stalker? He'll get the ick, and you also don't want that. You just... want space. Space is comfortable and safe, and it lets you sleep at night. 

This past week, you've tried to figure out a way to confess. Ann told you to act dumb and be like 'Oh, you're that Benedict Bridgerton?', but something tells you he wouldn't buy that; Frog has never been stupid, only sarcastic and a little mean. You're not mean in real life. You're prone to giving in, so arguments don't escalate, and most of all, you're hesitant to get close to strangers.

Why is he doing this to you now? Wasn't he supposed to be bad at making conversation? He doesn't seem that way at all. Does that mean he's been making up stories to get Frog's sympathy? You've known a few people who are like that. Your skin crawls just thinking about it. Is Benedict one of them? Great, now you're worried.

"I don't like you trying to tell me what to do," you respond, feeling cornered and slightly humiliated. "I won't have lunch with you."

The last part comes out angry and biting. Benedict is surprised, after all, he'd been soft-spoken when requesting a reply, and he'd only been honest about what he'd felt with your first answer, but your reaction to it makes him waver—had he sounded entitled?

He blinks and looks to the side, gathering himself. "I... You're right, we do not know each other. I'm sorry if I overstepped. I... I guess I got friendly too quickly, I'm sorry, I—that's just how I am," he lets out a nervous, pained laugh, and he lifts one hand to squeeze the heated skin of his neck. "Forgive me."

You don't speak, only scowl at him impatiently, wanting him out of your sight because you can feel your muscles locking up, and you need to get moving or you'll start crying. He lifts the book and clears his throat.

"I'll, er, I'll take this to Ann. Thank you." He gives a step back, hesitates, and nods briefly. "Good day."

Next Chapter –>

Taglist.

Percy and Annabeth come back for the winter holidays. By then, Nico and Will have also returned from their visit to Camp Jupiter, but neither Jason nor Leo has stopped coming to visit Camp every weekend. Jason is happy to have more people to hang out with because Leo really is on his last straw.

He knows this isn't the worst situation he could be in—those were the months when he thought his time with Ara was limited, and after that, when he couldn't get back to her, then, when he had to leave her. This is the opposite of that, and is the opposite to the extreme that it hurts the same.

"Dennis, I can beg," Leo says, chasing the little cherub as he purposely ignores him. "It's been a month, dude. You're too young to understand, but I swear on your mother—"

"I am not too young to understand my mother's work," Dennis says in that self-assured manner that he's copied from Ara. "It's you who can't appreciate the artistry of what my sister is doing."

Leo wants to answer that he cannot, but it's not for lack of interest. It's just hard to enjoy crumbs when he's had the full meal many times before. He's a young man of seventeen, and Ara's expecting too much of his self-control.

"If you help me out," he continues, getting in the boy's way, "I'll make you a sword. Not just any sword, a sword like Almighty. It'll be able to turn into a pocket watch. Stylish. Yeah?" Leo smiles when he sees Dennis's interest. "Make sure I get a whole thirty minutes alone with your sister, and you get a shield with that—"

"This is embarrassing."

Leo curses under his breath at the sound of Lily's voice. "And you're snooping! Don't make me throw fireballs at you, again."

"Leave us, Dennis."

The little boy smiles teasingly at Leo before going away to Arts & Crafts. Leo's head falls as he lets out a tired sigh, then he faces Lily. "I thought we were past this." He gestures vaguely between them. "I'm not getting in the way, Ara is toying with me, and you know it."

"Yeah," Lily raises a brow. "You should be grateful that you met her at the time you did; you only got her 'cause she needed male comfort. Otherwise, she would've done this to you since the start, and far longer than a month. She had nothing to do before getting her promotion."

"You say the sweetest things to me," Leo hesitates, wanting to ask something that's been in his mind for years. "Hey, Lily... Do you think she would've noticed me then?"

The girl looks at him with genuine surprise. "Leo, I might not think you deserve Ara, but that's besides the point. I do not think anyone is good enough for Ara. She wouldn't have just noticed you; she would've been obsessed. You're everything she always wanted."

Leo's heard many praises about his relationship with the Aphrodite, but coming from Lily, it holds far more meaning. He blushes, a smile fighting to get out. "Thanks." And then, because this feels like a truce between the two, "I'm really glad she has you as best friend, too. There is no one I'd trust more to share her with."

Lily glances at her nails, unbothered, but he can see the deep blush on her neck. "I can be gracious, Flame boy. And I can help—if you're willing to make a deal?"

Leo doesn't even stop to think. "You've got my attention, dead eyes."

Percy and Ara are hanging out with Mrs. O'Leary and Pollo, the young man is enjoying his role as older brother like he hadn't been able to for the past six months, trying to make her feel bad about teasing Leo. 

"Don't you think you're being mean?"

Ara rolls her eyes, braiding Mrs. O'Leary's tail. "He likes it."

"He bears it. Because he trusts you, and knows you're not leading him on, but jeez, Birdy, your Aphrodite is showing."

"That is the point, Nemo. Once it's warmer—"

"Warmer," Percy knows his sister enough to catch her slip. "So you're not toying with him because of the thrill; you don't want to get tossed into the lake during winter again!"

Ara blushes. "I—"

Percy laughs. "I'm gonna tell Annabeth. Actually, I'm gonna tell everyone, just like you used to go around telling my business."

"It wasn't like that! You were just obvious!"

"You're a matchmaker!"

"I didn't need soul lights to see how smitten you were!" She tosses him a furball.

"Ara, listen, sometimes in life we have to endure what gets thrown at us," he says with feigned solemnity. "Whether that's a Great Prophecy, or to always be soaked in icy water."

"Ohh, count your days!" She jumps off the hellhound to throttle her brother.

The siblings begin a heated combat that ends on a scraped knee and a very concerned brother. Once Kayla leaves them alone in the infirmary after healing Ara's boo-boo on Percy's insistence, he speaks again, this time seriously. "You gotta stop torturing him, Birdy. I'm sure even Aphrodite can agree that you've done the right of passage well enough a thousand times over."

"Fine," she gives in, leaning on his side. 

Her brother slips an arm around her shoulders, smiling proudly at her, and lovingly ruffles her hair. If there's anyone who can make her do things, that's Percy. Some things never change.

Ara goes to her cabin to fetch a warmer hoodie for the campfire, when Leo's voice stops her as she reaches the top two steps of the entrance. "You used to visit me." 

She spots him leaning against the railing of his own cabin. The place is deserted, so he doesn't need to raise his voice to be heard across.

"When you were a goddess, I mean. I thought I was imagining things, but no. The more I'm around you, the more I'm sure of it. You might not remember it, but I know you were there."

The boy triggers a memory hidden deep in her mind. Leave it to Leo to find a way to give her one final regression. Ara smiles. "You're a prolific rap performer."

He gapes. "You're sick in the head. I thought you'd try to deny it at least for the sake of decency." He begins his way down the steps of his cabin.

Ara shrugs. She's told him about Reyna, obviously, and he'd been sort of cool about it, but it had been during one of their calls, when they were still learning to be friends. Thanks to many talks like that one, she doesn't feel remorseful around him. If he wants to know things, he is free to ask, and she'll tell him everything.

"I also managed to get a hold of that scroll that got lost, the one I never got when you went to rescue Calypso. It was sweet, and it would've helped me a lot while you were gone—you always knew how to make me feel better..." She gets bashful. "Perhaps that's why I tried to keep my distance as a goddess. I didn't want to feel good about myself."

"Well, that's one creepy way to keep your distance... But I get it. If I'd had powers like yours, I would've tried to keep an eye on you for sure," Leo says as he makes his way towards her.

The girl softens, turning on the steps to face him properly. "I would've never asked you to do that."

"I would've done it anyway. I mean, there were moments I felt like straight up garbage—I missed you, so, so, much. I was angry, but I never regretted you," he shrugs. "I was never going to move on, even if it meant waiting a lifetime."

She watches him get closer, and then he's there, at the steps of her cabin. He climbs one, two, and his hand reaches for hers on the railing. "I'm always thinking about you," he says, gently rubbing her wrist, right over her pulse point and the scar. "And when you came back and kept quiet..."

"I just..." Ara stares at his thumb moving in slow, dizzying circles. "I didn't know where I'd fit in your life anymore..."

Leo lifts her hand and presses it over his heartbeat. "Right here. The same place you've always been." He holds her chin with his other hand, climbing another step. "Stop acting like I don't know you, like you're not the brave, nurturing, beautiful girl you've always been. I love that girl tonight. I'll love her tomorrow..."

He climbs onto the next step to be face-to-face, a breath away from her lips, and Ara starts to question if the water would even feel that cold with him in it.

"I want us to be the reason I breathe, and what makes my heart race," he smirks. "I want to be your favorite person to torture. I want the house, the pet lion, the bronze dragon, a handful of babies with our eyes and hair, and another handful of adopted ones making our lives loud and chaotic, and full of you..."

Oh, how she loves it when he speaks like that. Ara places a shaky hand on his shoulder, relishing his warmth. Leo's curls begin to steam. "Be cool," she warns him, bumping noses. "I've got no fireproof skin now..."

"Then stop stressing me out," he mutters, chasing her mouth.

She pulls back an inch to torment him a little longer, smiling. "Are you ever going to change?"

"You like it when I grovel," Leo replies, towering over her so decidedly that Ara's back gets pressed against the handrail, and suddenly his grovelling feels less like so, and more like a command that turns her into putty.

"Like it? I love you."

Leo's body goes limp when she caves and kisses him, injecting pure ecstasy into his bones. All those years spent waiting for someone to find and care for them were all worth it in a single moment, and the longing to be needed is fulfilled in the way they hold each other. It steadies them at once, like a screw twisting firmly into place.

Leo pulls away, beaming, and kisses both her cheeks before returning to her mouth. He pulls her as close as he can get her, burying one hand in her deliriously heavy and soft hair, and whispers against her lips. 

"Again."

Leo is weirdly adamant on attending the campfire, no matter how hard Ara tries to coax him into sneaking somewhere else. But as soon as they step into the amphitheater holding hands, and she sees the evil intent in her friends' expressions, she halts and looks at Leo like he's just stabbed her.

"You traitor."

"Aw, man! Can't believe it," Connor groans, handing over a couple of drachmas to Lily.

"It's nighttime!" Ara whines, backtracking.

Leo smiles apologetically, but not really. "I'm sorry, doll. I made a deal with Lily."

"Nico and Connor thought it'd happen if they asked Jason and Leo to come, but I told them you were going to find a way to make things difficult," Lily rolls her eyes. "Amateurs."

"We had to soften you up," Percy says, grinning.

"So all your big brother talk was just to manipulate me into this?"

Percy looks at Annabeth, who's laughing. "Aren't you proud of me?"

Ara lets go of Leo's hand. "I don't love you anymore—"

"Birdy, you're crazy about me!" The boy winks, then turns and uses his hands as a megaphone to give the announcement. "She said yes to the lake!"

The uproar it causes is almost scary when waves of campers rush out of their seats and hoist her and Leo up, carrying them to the canoe lake.

January

It's picture day for the year-rounders. Ara found the camera in the attic and decided they needed to update Chiron's wall. Right now, she's taking the picture of the newest Aphrodite-Hephaestus duo.

"Move to the left!" Ara gestures. "There! Okay, say cheese!"

Harley places one arm around the Aphrodite's shoulders and holds up the shield he made for his friend. Dennis is holding the sword Leo—with Ara's assistance—made for him, same pose as Ara in her Daughter of Olympus shot.

"Connor and Lily next!" Leo hollers and dodges the punch that the girl tries to aim at him.

Nico and Ara second it, but what really convinces Lily is Connor's imploring puppy eyes. Ara takes the shot when Connor leans in and plants a firm kiss on the girl's cheek. Everyone coos and teases them, and the girl blushes so hard she hides behind Connor's protective frame to not be seen. 

"I want five copies of that!" He jokes, before turning from the crowd to soothe his girlfriend.

"You next," Leo says, taking the camera from Ara. "Chiron's got a picture of you before the daughter of Olympus thing, and another being one. Don't you want people to know you made it out alive?"

"I don't think future campers will care if I lived or died," she says, flustered.

"You got me, officer. I only want more pictures of my girlfriend," Leo raises his hands in surrender, but his tone is heavily sardonic. "C'mon, just get in there."

Before Leo can take the picture, Jason takes the camera and pushes him closer to Ara. "Let the two forge chiefs share the spotlight!"

"Oh, I'm not—"

"Shut up," Leo pulls her close by the waist. Something stirs in her lower belly at the unexpected muscle she feels when he tenses his arm. "You're my right-hand woman, always and forever. Masters of unlikely, Firecracker and Birdy—right?"

She slips her arm under his and leans her chin on his shoulder with a loving smile. 

"You got it." A flash goes off, and Ara protests. "I wasn't ready!"

"Take one like this!" Leo tilts her body back, again in an impressive display of strength, and kisses her like they're in a romcom.

Ara holds onto his face, kissing him back, with the glow of their soul lights filtering under her lashes, but it's hard to keep it going with how much they're smiling. Leo pulls her back up and talks to Jason while Ara stares at him with a love-drunk gaze. "That one's for my eyes only."

"Trust me, no one wants to see that again," Nico replies, but gives them the tiniest of grins right after.

"One last try!" Jason announces. "Say cheese!"

"One last try," Leo nods, looking back at her with bright eyes. "Ready, sunshine?"

She beams. "Ready."

July

In Chiron's office, ten new pictures are hung up on his wall. One is the candid Jason took of Leo and Ara: they're hugging, staring into each other's eyes with devotion. Ara's chin on his shoulder, smiling not as wildly as when she was thirteen, nor as demurely as in her General attire. She radiates joy nonetheless, smitten and content with where she's standing. Leo appears to have the mischief of old in his crooked grin, but his energy no longer means danger, only highlights the clever young man he is. Together, they make one of the finest pairs on Chiron's wall. 

At least that's what Leo thinks as he admires the picture. He remembers the first time he saw Ara's photograph, and all the times he thought she was out of his league. Looking at their candid, he feels nothing but the same satisfaction that comes after fixing a particularly tricky engine. Then his eyes dart to Michael Yew's picture, and his smile softens.

"Hey, man," he speaks in a whisper, "I don't think I ever said this—but thank you. For everything." He taps the frame gently. "It's my turn now, alright? I'll make her happy, you can count on it."

Outside, summer is starting, Lily and Connor are leaving for their first road trip of many, and Ara can tell it'll become a thing; she's excited for them. Nico and Will are somewhere in Camp, rounding up the new demigods to make sure everyone has gotten here safely. They've taken over the duties Lily and Ara used to have by their own free will, since they're both happy year-rounders. 

The girls still take care of the archery and lava wall lessons, and Ara is still the head counselor, but only until she graduates High school, which is in a year from now. She will always have her demigods in mind wherever she goes, and will Iris-message them every week, but it is time she starts doing things for herself, too.

She still has one last thing to do for others, though, and she goes up into the attic for what might be the last time in her life. Ara feels a strange sense of finality whilst being there; Mr. D told her to find a way to close the whole "servant of the world" chapter of her life, and Leo's idea to leave a letter for the next child of Olympus had fitted the task nicely. 

She pulls out her box from the shelf, then grabs her letter, and unfolds it to read it out loud:

"Dear children of Olympus," she starts, a goosebump running up her spine at the way her voice seems to fill the attic. "For as long as I could remember, I always felt like I was looking for something. I believe now that to be the drive of life—to always want more than you have. And if you're a C.o.D, then that means you've got a hunger that's going to be difficult to handle. Ambition can be risky, and blind loyalty towards your sponsors is a one-way road. I was cruel, careless, and hurt many people. I suffered a lot, too. I still think you can find ways to be happy.

"You can fall in love, have friends, family, say 'I love you' when you feel it, and fight for someone even if they scream at you to go away. Don't say this to your demigods, for they need faith to live well, but you need to know that if it comes between a place amongst gods or a place amongst humans, you should go home. What saved me when my time came was the love of mortals who knew me, and the love I still had to give.

"Hercules told me we are destined to lose. Eros told me all children of Olympus surrender to him. What I tell you is let yourself live. Love will keep you safe, and you'll never lose what truly matters if you feed it well.

Good luck out there, Strategus,

I wish you joy,

-Arae Jackson." 

December

The small group of people enter in a choir of laughter and simmering energy. They've just come home from the last game of the season, where they watched Ara captain the cheerleaders one last time before the holidays. Lily and Connor left early for their roadtrip, so that left an empty spot Leo was happy to fill at once.

"I will be taking that bundle now, son," Paul says, removing a sleeping Estelle from Leo's grasp. He loves to hold her while they're out; he's also always the warmest. "You two enjoy the rest of your night."

Leo stretches his arms. "Thanks, Mr. Blofis."

"Thank you," Sally teases him. "You're the only one who can get her to fall asleep before 8 pm."

"It's because he tires her out," Ara says jokingly, kissing her mother's flushed cheek. "All that yapping about how the scoreboard and the confetti canon work, it's a miracle her brain hasn't doubled in size yet!"

Paul comes to her and kisses her cheek. "She's lucky to have so many intelligent people around her." He nods at the kitchen. "Cookies are in the oven, your mother and I are going to bed, but feel free to stay up and celebrate that you're the best cheer captain Goode's had in ages. And if you're watching TV, just keep it at a low volume so it doesn't wake the princess."

"Got it," Leo salutes the man. "I'll have Ara all tucked in by midnight, sir."

Ara's parents wish them a good night and leave them alone, but the teens don't go too crazy with the freedom. Truth is, to have both adults put their trust in them like that makes them not want to try to get away with more than they'd be doing if her parents were still in the same room. 

The only thing Leo does as soon as they leave is that he takes her hand, twirls her to see her skirt move, whistles lowly to make her laugh, and pulls her into a short kiss before letting go. Ara goes to change into her pj's while Leo gets the cookies, but instead of the living room, they decide to meet in the fire escape outside her bedroom.

Leo goes into the room to change into some cozy sweats and a worn hoodie, taking a moment to appreciate all the trophies, medals, and pictures Lily, Connor, and Ara have gathered over the last year and a half, just like those Jason, Cal, and Leo got during their junior and senior year, and are now kept in the Waystation. Messy rooms remind him of the one he had at his mother's workshop. They always feel like home. He spots his crayon drawing of the Argo II, now surrounded by dozens of pictures of him and Ara together, sharing a life. This is home.

Ara joins him in the fire escape with an agility Leo is proud to witness. She's made progress over the last eighteen months, can climb as fast as before, and uses Almighty as well as always, but her workshop skills are the biggest triumph. The girl chose to learn one step at a time, and now she's an amazing mechanic.

Right now, however, she doesn't care about any of that. All she cares about is smothering Leo with as many kisses as she possibly can, all snuggled up in a thick blanket. She's on her knees with her arms around his neck, celebrating their approaching first proper anniversary.

"We did it!" She exclaims, flushed and elated. "A whole year together!"

Leo laughs and lets her do whatever she wants to him. "And we've come far, doll. I'm proud of you."

"And I of you," Ara says with an easy smile. "Though I must say I don't get nearly as much praise as Estelle when she does the bare minimum, and I've done quite well this year, wouldn't you agree? I continue to be perfectly ordinary."

"For what it's worth, you're still a goddess in my eyes," he says, setting her sideways on his lap and wrapping the blanket tighter around her. "I have no problem being your only worshipper, though."

She tilts her head as if contemplating it. "If we count Apollo, Meg, Dennis, or Harley, you're far from being the only—"

"Don't ruin it, you little shit." Leo cuts her giggles short with a kiss. "Others may esteem you, but it's me you're riding with into the sunset. Once you finish High School, I'm coming to get ya. Why d'you think I didn't go off to college? So we can start our happily ever after as soon as possible."

Ara smiles, nuzzling his face. "And once we get that, then what?"

"Well," he brushes their mouths together. "I remember someone promising to marry me if she lived long enough to turn eighteen..."

"I didn't say I'd marry you as soon as I turned eighteen," she mumbles into the kiss, "I only said you could, eventually..."

"You just love breaking my heart with technicalities, don't you?"

Ara snorts, sitting up to kiss him again, and again. "Fine. We'll marry right after I graduate. I don't think anyone will oppose, and I don't see myself changing my mind about you a year from now."

"Never," he grins, arms wrapping snuggly around her. "We belong together, Arae."

"That we do, Leónidas," she says, kissing him for the hundredth time. "Would you be my date to prom?"

Leo laughs. "Aren't I supposed to ask you? Also, isn't that for another five months or so?"

"I waited when it was your prom. But it's my prom now. Also, I'm impatient."

"And unromantic."

The girl gasps. "How dare you say that to an Aphrodite?"

"Arae Jackson, would you be my prom date again?" He leans in, pressing his mouth to hers as he continues. "And then be my fianceé, and after that, the love of all my lives forever and ever?"

"Yes," Ara nuzzles his face once more, glowing as bright as a lighthouse. "That's all I want."

"Then you'll have it, sunshine," Leo holds her face for a real kiss, and looks into those eyes he's fallen for in every single one of his lifetimes. "We make things happen."

FIN

And it's done! 😭

Guys, I'm gonna get sappy but Ara's tale actually turns 10 years old in 2026, and it's such a dear story to me bc it's something my best friend and I used to yap about throughout high school, it's thanks to her that I met Leo, and I love her so much for making me consume media that we can both share and love together, ily Lily <3

Ara is the last OC I'll be writing a fanfic of (for now, at least) and I'm glad I wrote her last, I love her, I love what I created, and I know I'll be reading her in another ten years from now, if only just to remember simpler times with my best friend.

Thank you for reading it, too! I hope we meet again, maybe with something original, hopefully very soon 🥰

-Danny

Taglist.

3: I think about you, though, everywhere I go

Texting Frog in the middle of the day had felt like a violation of terms and conditions, but they hadn't blocked him afterwards, so he had to guess they didn't mind all that much whether he texted to complain at 2 am or 2 pm. 

In a weird, childish way, mixing Frog and sunlight had cemented them as a real entity in his life. They were a real person with a job that didn't let them text, and that was reassuring. During a brief moment of fear, he'd wondered if they were one of those bots the dating apps were putting out nowadays, and he was too old to tell. But no, Frog was a real friend.

He winces as the sentence forms in his mind. It's pathetic. He had friends, right? Obviously, saying his siblings counted was too cheesy, but he still had... Simon, Kate, Pen... his siblings' partners. Oh, god—was he friendless?

He walks towards his office, then stops short, deciding to go outside and look for someone, anyone, to have lunch with. All professors had to be free at the moment, so why not? He knew plenty. But as he walks alone, all he sees is a sea of students, no matter where he looks. He begins to stress, feeling stupid holding his food container and sparkling water, mouth drying up with anxiety—oh! There, a little further ahead, he spots Y/N, the librarian. 

Last time they spoke, she seemed nice. Deadly quiet, but that's okay; eating in silence with someone quiet is better than alone. He approaches with a friendly smile, pretending to bump into the young woman naturally. "Hi, Y/N!"

The girl stiffens for about two seconds before looking up, squinting as she gets hit with the brightness of the sky behind Benedict. "Hello. Did you need something?"

Straightforward. Nice, he liked people who didn't dally with small talk; it made it far easier for him to jump right into chummy territory. Benedict closes the distance and sits across from her on the stone bench. "Mind if I join you?"

Y/N swallows a bite and eyes him strangely, as if she's hiding a body beneath the bench, and he's right on top of it. "Are you sure?"

Benedict grins. "Am I sure? It's just lunch we're having, there's no harm in sitting together."

You hum noncommittally, eyes darting away while you take a sip from your own canned drink. There's a light blush on your cheeks, and he thinks it's rather endearing just how much you fit into the librarian stereotype. Easily flustered, awkward, quiet... attractive, too. His eyes linger in the way you keep your hair out of your face with a pair of reading glasses, and how it gives him a clear view of your lovely neck. He blinks and looks away, opening his food container and stuffing his mouth with a cracker.

"Are you, um, still struggling with your students?"

You are a loud thinker, he realizes, because it's impossible to ignore the way you scowl and breathe slightly heavier as your mouth twitches, planning your next few words. He smiles. "Nevermind that, I was having a bad day, that's all. I was throwing a little tantrum."

"Ah," Y/N lowers her head and pushes her food around. "Good to know..."

Benedict eats for a minute or so before he decides to add to the conversation. "Are you always in the library, truly?"

"Where else would I be?" you answer, slightly faster than other times. 

He chuckles. "That's fair enough. Sorry, I do not mean to tease you or anything, I just am a bit ignorant as to how libraries work."

There is a slight flicker of regret in your eyes before you reply. "No... I wouldn't claim to know everything about being a professor, even though last time I offered advice as if I did. Sorry if that was out of line, too."

"It wasn't. Though, are you implying my question was?" He smirks, unable to hold back. You look up at him in mild vexation, and Benedict covers his mouth with the back of his hand as he laughs. "Sorry, sorry. Last time, I promise."

"I do not believe you," you mumble, sounding bothered. 

"Smart woman," he smirks. "Why do you eat out here?"

"Because I spent all day inside a stuffy library—that I love," you add quickly as if afraid he'll go and tell your boss, which just so happens to be a friend of his mother's, but you have no way of knowing that.

"Of course," Benedict agrees with laughter in his voice. "And do you always, er... eat alone?" He quickly adds, "Because I do. And I wouldn't mind having some company..."

"No," you reply dryly.

"No?" He echoes, confused. "No, you don't eat alone, or no you–"

"No, yes. No." You rub your forehead with the heel of your hand. "Not always. Ann, the intern, sometimes eats with me, or my boss and I go to her office and eat, but she's out, and Ann had to stay and watch the books..."

"Of course," Benedict nods, still not knowing what you're saying.

Once again, you act as if held down at gunpoint. You glance at your phone nervously, then back at him. His mind briefly jumps to the idea that maybe you have a hyper jealous partner, and he's making you nervous, or maybe you think he's trying to get with you, which he's not. He really isn't, which marks the second time he's ever tried this hard with someone just for the sake of getting to know them.

He's reached a dead end, though, and is starting to feel that itch to leave the conversation, already planning to hurry up and finish most of his food so he can pretend to be in a hurry and—

"I guess," you try again, voice terse but audible, "if it's on your way, you could always check the library, and if I am there, I don't mind joining you."

He opens his mouth to agree, but something different comes out. "Are you sure?"

"It's just lunch we're having," you shoot back, again in that swift, firm voice. It gives him the impression that there are two versions of Y/N, one that is constantly nitpicking all she says, and another that is itching to let it all out. 

Benedict smiles, mostly at his own suspicions. "Yeah," he takes a bite out of another cracker and speaks through a careful mumble. "Just lunch."

Benedict: I've been thinking about our conversation from a while ago, me not being able to carry a conversation, and not knowing how to end them

Benedict: I might've been wrong

Frog: Wrong about what?

Benedict: Saying that I'm only able to come up with the witty, fun bits around my family.

Benedict: I think it might be about finding my people

Benedict: I might've found one today

Benedict hasn't felt this happy about lunch in at least half a year, but he is now, because he's got a project—that project being Y/N. Nothing to do with his anxiety to prove himself that he's a proper adult who knows how to build connections outside of the ones he was born with, please do not ask. 

He's turning past the arts department when he catches his name and Y/N's tied together in the same sentence, and he lingers.

"...Having lunch?"

"Yeah, apparently, they met when he went to pick up the books for the exhibit."

"Not fair, we see him all the time!"

"Oh, please, Ray, as if he was ever going to have a go at the grumpy secretaries of his department, he's not stupid enough to mess with us!"

"A girl can dream. But the librarian? Isn't that so cliché of him, going for the easy prey?"

Benedict steps back as if being slapped. Easy prey? Y/N might be quiet, but she's definitely not easy. He knows, he's been trying to get a full-fledged conversation out of her for four days to no avail. It's all mere administrative gossip, he knows, but it irks him anyway. 

He resumes his walk and gets to the library soon enough, running into Lady Danbury. The older woman laughs briefly at his expression and beckons him in. "Calm down, Bridgerton. When will you grow out of it? You are not a little boy anymore, and I will not tell on you to your mother."

"That remains to be seen," he replies, recovering thanks to her lighthearted teasing. He wonders if she's heard the rumours about him and Y/N, and hopes that even if she did, knows him better than to think him that foul.

"What brings you here? Food is not allowed near the books, you know—"

"I'm not here to stay. I, er, came to see if Y/N's joining me for lunch."

Lady Danbury raises a brow in surprise, a slow, pleased smile adorning her face. "Really? I didn't know you two knew one another."

"We don't. Not really. Have just started to, I guess, because of the project we're doing and all, she helped us with the books our students needed..." He explains, not knowing why he feels like he has to.

"Hmph. Y/N!" Lady Danbury calls before turning back to him. "You know, it's funny, I considered introducing you to her on her first week working here, but you were nowhere to be found... it was the month you left to visit Colin in Greece, I believe."

"Ah, yes," Benedict perks up, smiling. "Funny indeed. Did you think we'd get along?"

"I thought she'd need some help warming up to the academy, but it turned out to be mere motherly worry from my part. She didn't need coddling, got the hang of things rather quickly, a very clever girl." Lady Danbury leans in and speaks quietly. "Which is why I don't need to tell you to watch yourself, do I?"

Benedict clears his throat, feeling his cheeks burn. "Of course not."

"Good."

Y/N comes from around the corner carrying a small pile of books. "Did I hear my—oh!"

"Hey!" Benedict says, anxious to leave the library. "Coming?"

"Um," she glances at her boss, and the lady nods at her briefly before turning back to the papers she's holding. "Alright."

She circles the desk and pulls out a square, bright yellow lunch bag. While she approaches him, Lady Danbury speaks up as if just coming to the thought. "Tell your mother I'll see her this Friday, dear."

Benedict smiles charmingly. "Of course, Lady Danbury. Have a good day."

Y/N waits until they're out before quietly, and without meeting his eyes, asks him: "Do you know Mrs. Danbury?"

"Lady Danbury." He corrects her out of habit. "She and my mother were good friends in college."

"She's a lady?" Y/N asks in a choked voice. "Is your mother a lady?"

Benedict looks down at her with amusement. "No. My brother is a viscount, though. Whatever that means nowadays." He is both embarrassed and delighted with the flush that paints her cheeks, and he lets her stew in it a bit before pulling her out of her misery. "Lady Danbury told me she'd intended to introduce us when you first got here—that means you knew her from someplace else before working at the library?"

"She was my professor at uni," you explain bashfully. "Never said she was a lady..."

"And you don't have a phone to stalk your professors, like a normal student?" He teases her.

"I never thought..."

"Ah, do not worry, those titles do not signify in the least," he brushes off, "not anymore. They would've meant something long ago, I suppose. I'm glad that's no longer the case, or I would've lived a significantly different life than the one I have. We're allowed to work, and mingle... though the elite events are still a burden that we've carried into the twenty-first century... wish they'd go extinct already."

 Y/N looks at him intently for a minute, and he's starting to regret his little rant when she speaks up. "I would've been a baker."

He turns to her in confusion. "Beg your pardon?"

"When titles still mattered. I think I would've been a baker. A bookshop wouldn't have been allowed to be kept by a woman, let alone a library. And I am too clumsy to be anyone's maid; I would've constantly scorch the fabrics and ruin the rugs. But I'm a decent baker."

He stares at her like she's just said the most fascinating thing ever, and a slow, proud smile appears on his face. "A baker. In that case, my family would've hired you exclusively to do the cakes for all our balls and celebrations under my request."

"I thought you said your brother was the viscount. I don't think the household would've listened to you if that were the case."

He gapes at her insolent response, a flutter of something in his chest, and replies, feigning offense. "I'm known to be a cake connoisseur, thank you very much!"

Y/N laughs. It's brief and clearly contained, but willingly given, and Benedict preens at the sound.

Next Chapter –>

Taglist.

"ARA!"

The girl barrels downhill as she hears Nico shouting. She thinks the worst. "Coming!" She runs, hoping not to break her neck. "I'm coming, Nico! What's the matter? What—"

The boy tackles her in such a manner that Ara gasps in shock. She thinks he's about to throw her down, but instead, Nico lifts her from the ground and twirls her—actually twirls her. He's smiling.

"Nico, your cheek—!" Ara stammers when he puts her down. He's holding her face, touching her as if he can't have enough. "I—you—What are those things?!"

The boy looks down and grins, but he doesn't let go of her face. "Cocoa Puffs. Stay away from the one with teeth, you've got a lot of him in you, and I don't want you to get hurt."

She stares at him like he's grown a second head. Her empath touch stirs, and she feels nothing but unadulterated joy. "You don't want what?"

He smiles at the two people behind Ara. "Hey, guys. It's good to see you."

He shakes Connor's hand and then pulls Lily in for a firm, though not as wild, hug, not wanting to trigger her. He's all energy, almost a grown version of his ten-year-old self.

"What happened in Tartarus?" Lily asks, stunned.

"I'll tell you all about it," he says, taking both girls by the hand, pulling them towards the pavilion. "But first, breakfast."

By the time Nico is done, Ara is openly weeping. She's holding Almighty against her heart, beyond proud of what her friends did to save Bob, and understanding what the Cocoa Puffs actually are—and wishing not to be near them at all, though she thinks they're cute.

"Well, I can't be as angry as I'd like after hearing this," Lily says. "But let's all agree no more dangerous quests for the rest of the year, yeah?"

"A whole sabbatical if it's up to us," Will says, leaning in and kissing Nico's cheek before getting up. "Gotta call mom to see how she's doing. See you guys later."

Connor yawns and stretches, fingers already tapping the table, looking for something to do. "I'll hit the rec room. Coming?" He looks at Lily.

"In a moment," she says, sensing that Nico wants a moment in private with her and Ara.

When Connor leaves, the boy lowers his gaze and toys with the last grape on his plate. Usually, he would toss it to the side and forget about it. This time, he pops it right into his mouth and chews before talking again. "Do you remember what I told you?" He asks Ara. "Why you couldn't go to Tartarus?"

"Because I wasn't strong enough," Ara nods.

"That's not what I said," he frowns. "I said that place would've destroyed you. You and Will have lived your lives surrounded by sunshine—You're all light, and that place would've damaged you beyond saving. I didn't want you near it. Ever."

Ara softens. "I thought you were..."

"I wanted you to think that," Nico shrugs, uncomfortable. "It was easier than admitting... that I cared," he reaches for their hands over the table. "I haven't been a complete jerk—well, not to you, Lily. But I was difficult and evasive, I had nothing to offer, and you still stayed. I love you, girls."

Lily and Ara share a look, and it only takes that for Ara to break. "I love you too!" She circles the table and squeezes him in a long-overdue hug. Lily joins from the other side and locks him up in a love sandwich.

Ara kisses his head over and over until Nico is red and exasperated. She thinks she has the right to make up for all the years he kept her at arm's length. "I'm not your teddy bear!" Nico pushes her away. "If you want to kiss something, call Leo!"

She huffs. "I don't want to dote on him, I want to dote on you. My brave, beautiful boy—"

"Ugh!" He squirms out of her grasp. "Lily—help!"

"Sorry, I'm enjoying this," the girl replies with satisfaction and a teary gaze. "Like old times."

Ara wonders if maybe a good ending is a pale copy of the best part of our lives, which doesn't make it bad, only well-loved, like all old things. She pulls Nico back in and squeezes him in another hug.

"Ow! Have you been working out behind Will's back?"

"Cheerleading practice," she beams, nuzzling his silky, dark hair.

Ara and Lily are asked to return to camp during the first week of snow to look after the newbies, while Nico and Will visit Hazel to help with some mystery issue they've been having at Camp Jupiter. Ara is like 'Say less, bestie!' because she really doesn't want to hear any of it. 

She's also not informed that Leo and Jason are expected to show up and help. It's not even that they are told, as much as Mr. D simply mentions it in passing as soon as Ara walks in to announce her presence. She locks herself in Chiron's office after hearing it.

"Oh, Mikey," she bemoans, caressing the frame where Michael Yew's photograph is hanging. "We're really in it now."

"You're embarrassing." Lily opens the door—which was locked—and takes Ara. "He was going to show up eventually. I'm actually impressed with his self-control. I was expecting him to run back as soon as you fell out of the sky."

"I was spit out from under the earth, but I get what you're saying," Ara sighs, letting herself be pulled towards the arena when they leave the big house—then she realizes she's being pulled to one of her forbidden spots. "Wait—what's happening?"

"Without Nico, you're the best swordslady around."

The girl shakes her head in sudden panic. "I—this body has done nothing of the sort!"

"You remember, and that's all we need. You don't have to fight, just teach the kids, okay? They're looking forward to it; Almighty training them is a dream come true. I would take the spot, but I'm the archery instructor, and you can't shoot shit."

"Do you know at what time the boys are supposed to arrive, though?" Ara asks distractedly, watching the skyline. "I'm gonna kill Nico when I see him—Sneaky little shit."

"He's doing you a favor. Again. Because he loves you, remember? And Mr. D said they arrive tomorrow morning, so you've got plenty of time to prepare."

It turns out Lily's right, and her brain does remember all, even if her body can't get it done as well as it used to. Dennis is enthusiastic with his sword and almost chops off his opponent's arm, but aside from that, Ara has a good time teaching the kids how to fight. She's so antsy when she's left with nothing to do, though, that she decides to go into the Big House attic and clean it.

"No, boys, you can't come," she puts her foot down. "I need some me time—and also, we used to keep a mummy up there, and it reeks, so you really don't want to join, I promise."

Dennis and Harley go away dejectedly, but definitely not wanting to know how a mummy smells. Ara goes upstairs and gets to work. Box after box, she separates junk from the spoils of war. She's wearing gloves and is keeping her hair out of the way with a braid and a bright pink bandana, singing and then coughing every time she breathes in dust. She reaches the newest box of the lot and freezes. 

It's her laurel wreath and purple cloak. The box is labeled "D.O.O—A.J." so that should've rang a bell. There's a note in Chiron's handwriting that reads: Daughter of Olympus, Arae Pantodýnamos—Goddess of the Lost. She hears the trap door open and figures it's Lily coming to check on her. 

"Hey, look at what I just found! D'you think Chiron will mind if I toss all this into the campfire tonight?"

"All that fabric? You could make Pollo a new bed with that," says a drastically different voice than the one she was expecting.

Ara drops the box, having to use all her willpower not to jump into Leo Valdez's arms. "You were supposed to arrive tomorrow."

The boy frowns, hands in his pockets with the same fidgety energy as her. "Who told you that? Jason and I left the Waystation this morning."

She gapes, then squints. "Mr. D, that old piece of—"

"I wouldn't finish that phrase. Just spoke to him... disturbing guy."

"You get used to it," Ara says. "Be thankful he doesn't call you by the wrong name. It happened to my buddy, Peter Johnson."

Leo laughs, then he gets closer, but makes it clear he's coming for the box and not her. Small mercies. "That's your godly stuff?" He picks up the box and puts it on a table. "Dang, it's heavy!"

"Tell me about it," Ara sighs. "Just put it somewhere in the back, I don't want to look at it."

"Why not? I mean, when we met, you were wearing this." He smiles at the contents inside. "It's a good memory."

"Not the same stuff, this one's Almighty's."

"Right," he glances at her. "Completely different things."

"Shut up," she says, snatching the box out of his grip and stuffing it back on the shelf.

Leo tucks it better, doing it with care. He stares at it, heart beating wildly at the fact that he's standing right beside Ara, able to feel her body heat. "You should leave a note."

"In the box?"

"It would've been cool if you'd had something from the former children of Olympus to hold onto, right? I know your conversation with Heracles was important to you, even if it wasn't nice. I bet the next kiddo will appreciate reading your thoughts."

Ara looks at the box. "The next one might not come for centuries..."

"That doesn't mean they won't try to know more about you," he glances at her, trying and failing not to sound sappy. "I know I would."

She elbows his arm lightly, avoiding his eyes, though she catches the faint golden glow surrounding him. "I'm tired of the stale air, let's go downstairs."

"He could barely sleep last night, spent all morning urging me to have everything ready," Jason tells her during dinner. "I can't stand him. Please take him back?"

Everyone sits wherever they please now, and Leo is with his siblings, trying to win back Harley. The little boy is still pissed with him since he heard about Leo's breakup with Ara. Meanwhile, Jason, Lily, Connor, and Dennis share Zeus's table.

The girl snorts. "Why would I do that?"

"You're so obnoxious," Lily speaks up. "That boy was tailing you like a puppy all day, and you want to pretend you don't want him back?"

Ara smirks. "I didn't say that."

Jason and Lily share a wary look. The boy continues. "Then what are you saying?"

"I'm saying that the first time around, I was resisting so hard that we ended up together faster. Now, I'm feeling like letting him stew a bit."

Dennis preens at her words, glowing with excitement. "Ohhhh! Ara, you're doing the rite of passage?!"

"How much is enough, you evil woman?" Jason asks in annoyance. "He's been stewing for seven months! A year, if you count the time he went missing!"

"I really want to do this, Ken," Ara says, a dangerous glint in her gaze. "I feel like being a little evil."

Jason is about to protest, but Lily stops him. "Let her."

"What? You're supporting this crap?"

"She's not going to break his heart," Lily says. "She'll do something much worse."

"I'm going to tease him," Ara says blithely.

Jason groans, dropping his head on the table.

The next morning, Ara takes her sweet time getting ready before leaving cabin 10. The old Aphrodite genes dormant in her get to work as if she'd never stopped being one. Her hair brushed to perfection, pretty eyeliner to make her eyes pop, and cherry lip gloss make the perfect combination for a flawless impact.

Ara walks with a skip in her step, greeting the younger campers, and a little embarrassed that she's making a few heads turn, she almost regrets doing this, but pushes through. She'd never made Leo short-circuit as a proper Aphrodite, and she can't go on without seeing that in this lifetime. 

When reaching the pavilion, she walks past his table. Leo is there, an early riser and always energetic, and he's telling a story to some newbies, making them spit juice out of their noses. He glances up distractedly and does a double-take when he sees her. Ara doesn't stop, but she's not exactly in a hurry as she waves playfully. "Morning, Valdez."

The boy's soul light appears as an explosion of the brightest gold. He places both hands on the table and pushes himself out of his seat, going after her. Ara doesn't look back, but she hears him say to the other kids in a clumsy voice: "My girl's here—Gotta bounce."

He's there a second later, blatantly checking her out and struggling not to stumble over his own feet. One hand runs through his hair to make sure he's not putting out smoke. "Wow."

Ara looks at him, though still keeping a semblance of innocence, she smiles. "Thank you."

"Wow," he says again, tugging at his shirt as if he's sweating. "Hi, beauty. You got plans today?"

"Not many. I'm in charge of  the lava wall."

"I can help. I like hot." He says, blindly taking a spot at her table and grabbing a plate to serve her breakfast. "Please?"

"Okay!" Ara says happily, sitting down and looking pretty. "You're on Lily's seat, though. Move."

His smile falls. "What?"

"My seat," says Lily, coming out of nowhere.

Leo gives a start and scowls. "Her seat? Doll, you're kiddi—"

"Leo, my girl's here," Ara points out as if it's obvious, nudging him—though gently—to make room for Lily. "You gotta move."

The grey-eyed girl sticks out her tongue at Leo and sits next to Ara happily.

Half the campers are too new to care about the wars that happened in the past, but gossip flies fast, and within the next twenty-four hours, everyone knows that Ara Jackson and Leo Valdez used to be a thing, and are still very much a thing.

It is hell for Lily and Jason, but at the same time, really amusing to watch and a great topic of conversation for their nightly calls to their siblings and friends. Dennis is beside himself with pride at being able to witness his older sister in action, and Harley is only a little bit jealous that Leo is stealing all her attention again. 

The next time he sees her, Leo's ready. He finds her at the forges, sitting on his workbench while wearing a skirt and a Camp T-shirt tied in a knot around the waist. Is she trying to kill him? "Hi there, gorgeous! Who gave you permission to distract my peeps?"

"That's a rather gutsy question for a boy who cannot spell gorgeous," she replies, crossing her legs.

"Says the dyslexic angel," Leo struggles not to glance down. "I can spell it just fine. Front and backwards, it's all the same. A-R-A," he winks.

Ara laughs, and the boy gets closer only to get stopped by a hand on his face. He has a hard time not inhaling deeply. Ara's skin smells like lavender nowadays. "Smooth. But I won't be that easy."

"I wouldn't expect you to be—but you can be generous on occasion," He kisses her palm.

Ara hops off the workbench with the same grace as usual, letting her hand run from his face to his neck, then his shoulder, and the length of his arm. Their fingertips brush, and Leo feels himself going crazy.

"I'll let you work," she replies teasingly.

The boy speaks before he can help himself. "Do you still want to work at the forges?"

Ara's smile falters. "I don't know. I haven't tried since..."

Leo picks up a box he'd put away under his workbench. "Come on, I'm sure you're still a natural."

"I don't have your dad's blessing anymore, though, and I make things explode..."

"I'll keep you safe," he promises, pulling out bits and pieces of different items from the box. "You gotta learn, because I know it makes you happy. And if it's up to me, you'll have all the things you love."

Leo focuses on the fact that, for once, she's not almighty. Ara needs all the help she can get to return to the life she once adored, and Leo doesn't undo himself in fake praise, knowing it's a long path to cross. He wants to help her get her spark back, but struggles with the wild thoughts in his head, like what would happen if he just forgot about pacing and kissed her senseless.

Ara pulls her hair back in a ponytail with the hair tie he'd given her, and Leo thinks of their evenings in the Argo II, heart racing at the memories. They're gonna get nowhere with the stupid project they're supposed to be working on if all he's thinking is the way she's standing so damn close to him.

"How long are you planning to keep this up?" He asks abruptly, though quietly, so the others can't hear over the clanking and sawing around them.

Ara grins, and it's a deadly expression to look at in Leo's current state. "It's only been two days, cracker. I have enough fuel to go until New Year's."

Leo whines at the thought. "Screw that. I oppose. Overruled. Take me back already, doll..."

"Take you back where?"

"Somewhere quieter," He steps closer and tries to tempt her into leaning in. "The bunker's cozy at this time of year, if you remember... great spot for kissing..."

She laughs, pushing him away with one hand pressed against his shoulder. "Not happening."

"Alright! I think a compromise is plausible," he says, clasping his hands. "One more day of this and then you kiss me stupid."

Ara tilts her head as if considering it and wrinkles her nose with a light shake of the head. "Nah."

"You're a horrible person," he spreads his hands as if asking What the hell do you mean 'Nah'?

"You're playing along!" Ara argues, full of amusement. "You could just ignore me, you know?"

"I'd have to gouge my eyes out to do that," he gestures up and down at her. "You think I can ignore this? When it's all for me?" He mutters a complaint in Spanish, glaring at the scraps on the table and shaking his head.

Ara is overcome with tenderness, pressing a kiss to his cheek and leaving a glossy mark behind. Leo won't be washing his face any time soon. "I know. You're a saint for putting up with me."

Soul light blazing, he looks at her—back to being four inches taller—and smiles adoringly despite his irritation. "Nah... It's like breathing."

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