MISC #7 Voting Thread: Fanfic

You Can't Take the Sky From Me
A Firefly Fanfic

Serenity

Damn funny name for a ship that had seen so much. For Captain Malcolm Reynolds, Serenity was home, but it hadn't always been. Six months had passed since Miranda. Six long, tiring months, and not for the first time, Mal found himself missing Shadow. It was a charred lump now. No more life to it than a coal briquette, but once, a long time ago it had been something to see. He wasn't a sentimental type - more than half the time, folks took to asking if he had much of a heart at all, but maybe that was the problem. Home is where the heart is… and his had been bombed to hell.

A clattering drove him from his reverie and turning, he looked to find Kaylee half bent to scoop up a wrench. Struggling upwards again, her cheeks reddened as she spotted him staring, "Sorry Cap. You was all quiet like, too. Just… Hands are all butter now." The palm of her free hand pressed to the swell of her stomach and Mal shook his head with a dry smirk as the mechanic continued, "Anywho. Grav Shaft shifted and I'm lookin' to fix her up before we're skybound again. Won't take more'n a minute… ten if she's jumpy."

"...Can you even fit back there, anymore?" Mal asked, and Kaylee's expression shifted, her hand dropping to her hip.

"Hell, Cap! Not you, too! I ain't even that big, yet!"

Chuckling, Mal rose, patting Kaylee on the shoulder, "You look good, Kaylee. Comin' along nice. Simon stop cryin' or is he still all emotions and blubbering?"

"Since I told him. Hell. I thought womenfolk were the ones 'supposed to be emotional when they got pregnant. Not the other way 'round."

"I didn't think girls could get other girls pregnant… So I guess we all learned somethin' new." Jayne's voice interjected, as he leaned up against the doorframe. Kaylee turned and hurled the wrench, Jayne ducking in time for it to fly over his head, clattering to the catwalk behind him. Chuckling, Mal shook his head

"You gon' let her--"

"I ain't about to tell her what to do, Jayne. You best apologize, before she chucks somethin' harder to dodge."

Making a face, Jayne straightened, "...I was just teasin', Kaylee."

Eyes narrowing, the mechanic pointed a finger at him, "You best be…"

"Hell, if I ever knock a girl up, I hope she's half as pretty as you are. And… round?"

""Round?", Mal grimaced, and Kaylee reached into the tool chest, grabbing a pair of plyers, "Round!? You're gonna have a hell of a time knockin' anyone up without any--"

Their voices faded into the background, as Kaylee chased Jayne from the room and shaking his head, Mal looked across the bridge to the small sprig of a girl, sitting cross legged in the pilot's chair. Her hair hung in a curtain around her pale face, eyes roving over the page of the book in her lap.

"The gestational period for a pachyderm is twenty-two months."

"...You read that in your book, River?"

Looking up, a brow quirked, and River shook her head, "No."

"The facts you carry around in that superbrain of yours… Hm. How're we lookin' for take off?"

"Soon."

"Ah. Soon. My most favorite time of day… Just… try to give me a heads up this time, hm? I don't fancy runnin' up the bay doors like last time."

"I like the way your coat flaps around when you run."

"Shiny." Shaking his head, Mal rose and left the cabin, two steps at a time. At the bottom, he plucked up the wrench that had been tossed at Jayne and straightening, came face to face with a pair of smoldering, dark eyes.

"Zoe. I was just comin' to find you."

"Kid scarin' you again, Sir?"

"Like a damn phantom, she is."

"What did you need me for?" His first mate asked, and Mal's expression shifted. Every day Zoe made great strides in getting back to normalcy, but there would always be a weight to her now that time wouldn't heal. She never entered the bridge anymore, and Mal had to think it was because she knew what she would never find there, again. They had all lost something on Miranda. But none more than Zoe.

"Got a letter I need you to take a look to."

"You got a secret admirer, Sir?"

"It's from Ben."

"Oh. Damn."

In the mess, Mal handed the crumpled paper to Zoe, who took to reading as he paced back and forth. Twice, she looked up at him and the third time, her hand shot out to stop him, "Makin' me nervous, Sir."

Frowning, rubbing a hand over his face, Mal shrugged, "You think it's cause for concern?"

"Seems like it might just be…"

"Dìyù hé gāo shuǐ… It's been years, Zoe."

"That it has. He never…?"

"Not once."

"Says a lot, Captain. None of it the kind that bodes terribly well."

"Would you go?" Mal asked, a brow raised. Zoe seemed to consider the question, her expression a mask of indifference that dark, exotic eyes mirrored.

"Wouldn't feel terribly compelled. Ain't my letter though."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Mal reached out and Zoe returned the letter, "Piece of unwarranted advice, Sir?"

"Best kind there is." Mal noted, with a dry smirk.

"Talk to your wife."

A sigh escaped, and Mal dropped his hands to his sides, "Hell. That sounds like a terrible idea."

"Sir, I would--"

"Last I tried to talk to her about anything this risky, she near about tossed me out the shuttle bay. Got a remarkably strong arm, that woman."

"Sir…"

"Not to mention it ain't exactly a thing we ever came round to discussin'... My family."

Rubbing her brow, Zoe shook her head, "No, it wasn't. But don't seem like you got much choice, now, Sir."

"Well, sure I do. I just keep my trap shut and--" At the soft guttural sound behind him, Mal paused, and smirked, "...And she's right behind me, ain't she?"

"...Wearin' her best scowl, Sir."

"Zoe… Would you please be so kind as to shoot me?"

"No, Sir. I'll leave that your woman." Giving a small salute, Zoe turned and laughing, slipping out of the dining room. Turning around, Mal flashed a sheepish smile.

"My treasure."

"Don't... " Inara hissed, holding up a finger. The dark haired woman started forward, cupping her fingers beneath Mal's chin, "Sickness and health. You remember that one? Those vows we made three weeks ago?"

"Vaguely recall those words in some particular order, yes?"

"...Do you want to test them? Or are you going to start talking?"

"Or we could just… skip to the part where you yell at me, and then I yell, and then we're both yellin'-- hell, let's just skip to making up?" His hands slipped to her waist, but with a solid smack to his forearms, he retracted them, "Damn it, woman. You don't play fair. Sit down, Àirén, it's a long one…"

As Inara sank in a chair, Mal laid the setting on the table before her, "What's this?"

"It's from my brother."

"Your… you have…? Mal."

"It's like I said. Long story." A sigh escaped his lips and Mal sat down beside Inara, "Grew up on Shadow, small rock of a planet, not much to look at, but it was home. Worked the farm for my mom, most days it was just the two of us. My pop cleared out when I was six. Didn't possess a whole hell of a lot of paternal instincts to begin, but turned out it was Mom gettin' pregnant again, threw him off the whole notion. About seven months in, Mom had some complications and the baby came early. Ben was weak from the start… most folks didn't think he'd make it, but he survived. We all did.

When the war hit, Ben was one of the first in our town to sign up. Trouble was, not even the Browncoats had a terrible use for a skinny kid with ambitions. Guess he got told 'no' too many times, so he ran off. Decided he didn't need an army behind him… That he could make somethin' of himself."

"...What happened?" Inara asked, her hand cupping his. Her thumb traced circles across the edge of his wrist, and Mal shivered. Sometimes, it was so hard to see the former companion in her, but there were times when all those years of training were impossible to miss.

"Near got himself killed is what. Stole a flag ship from the Alliance… Ran the damn thing into a regiment. We thought he was done for, rightly should've been. Trouble is, they don't ever do what you expect them to, do they?"

"I'm starting to think it's intentional."

"Anyway. Just before the war ended, we found out Ben was still alive, rottin' in Alliance lockup. Zoe and me, we scrounged together a small band… tried to break him loose. Got damn near close to it, too. Till Ben showed up on the wrong side, starin' us down the barrel of a Alliance grade Laser pistol."

"He turned…?"

"I shoulda seen it, Inara. He was a dumb kid, lookin' for a chance to prove himself, and that's exactly what they gave him. Anyway… We made it out, but we lost a few men and a week later, Shadow got bombed to hell."

"Did you hear from him after?" Inara asked, looking down at the letter, "Before this?"

"Not a damn word. Part of me thought maybe he died, after all. Still did, till that showed up." Pointing to the paper, Mal shrugged, "Doesn't matter, far as I care. Fool me once…"

Turning her honied gaze down, Inara read over the letter, shaking her head slowly as she did, "Doesn't sound like you, Mal. I've never seen you leave anyone behind. Even when they deserved it."

Jaw clenched, Mal turned away, "We all got limits, Inara."

Putting the letter on the table, Inara rose and leaning forward, pressed a kiss to Mal's cheek, before resting her palm against its warmth, "...Read it again, Mal. Think it over…"

Her footsteps receded to the door and with a sigh, Mal's eyes glanced across the letter again, before he snatched it up.

Mal,

I know I'm probably the last person in the Verse you wanna hear from, and maybe that's fair. I know I made some mistakes - or at least that's how you see it. But none of that's important now. Thing is, it took me close to a year to find you, and I'm not giving up, now that I have. I need your help, Dà gēgē. Got no right to ask this of you, but family is family, like Mom always said, and I gotta think that counts for something.

After that whole mess between you and I. Didn't sit well, what went down, and I guess I just lost the taste for it. That life. I know what you're thinking. That I got myself into it. And that's fair. I did. And I know you won't believe me, but I didn't know it was you, Mal. When they told me what was goin' down.

But that's not why I'm writing.

I ran into trouble a while back. Wound myself up on Santo, of all places, looking for work. Alliance didn't have much use for me, see, when the war was over. Anyway, work there was scarce, like it is most places, and I guess I got desperate. No, Mal. I got stupid. That's the thing. You know me. I always get stupid. Took a job for some tah mah duh hwoon dahn. Thought it was legitimate. Turned out it wasn't, but by the time I realized it, well… I guess I was just caught up, you know? For a long time it was pretty tame stuff… Meds, drugs… the occasional shipment of guns. But a few months back, they started getting shadier with the details. Then one day, one of the guards was a little slow closing the shipment crate.

I saw them, Mal. Dozens of them. Girls. Dunno what they're doing with them, but you can bet it isn't anything good. Anyway, I started looking for you, soon as I realized. Asking around. Finally came to Persephone and some peacock named Badger says you got yourself a smuggling business on some fancy Class Five. So I started sending out post, figured eventually you'd get one. And hey.. If you're reading this, I guess I did something right for once.

But now I need to do something else right. And I need your help, Mal. These girls, some of them were just kids. Don't sit right with me, doing nothing, Anyway. I get it if you can't. I know I messed up, and I won't blame you for writing me off. But on the odd chance you got it in you to give me one more chance, I'll be waiting at a place called Gal's in Santo's shopping district. I know I got no rights to ask you for anything… Just hoping…

Ben

Crumpling the paper, Mal rose and shaking his head, he left the Mess, heading back to the bridge in purposeful strides. As he arrived, River glances up from her book again, a single brow arched as Mal sank into his chair.

"Set a course for Santo, River."

"Blood of the covenant…"

"Other way 'round, this time, Kid."

---

Santo came into view, a swirling marble of blue and white, on the border of the white sun. As River slowed in preparation for their descent, Mal rose from his seat to find Inara standing in the doorway, wearing a small, satisfied smile.

"...Not a word, Woman." He remarked, as he slipped past her.

An hour later, Zoe and Jayne were waiting by the bay doors, the latter sporting a blue cap with bright orange pom-poms. It was the latest gift from the man's mother, in a long string of hideous and succinctly 'Jayne'-esque headwear. Rolling his eyes, Mal swung into his duster and unclipped the hostler at his hip, "Can't say what this'll entail… and I ain't askin' you to risk your lives for my kin."

"We've got your back, Sir." Zoe noted.

"Plus, the pay…" Jayne noted.

"Ain't no pay, Jayne."

"No p-- Hell. Forget th--Augh!"

With a smack to the back of Jayne's head, that sent his hat to the floor, Zoe repeated with exaggeration, "We've got your back."

"Yeah, whatever." Jayne grumbled, picking up his hat, "Let's just get this over with."

"Inspirational as always, Jayne." Mal smirked, gesturing to the bay doors.

Gal's, as it turned out, was a Gentleman's Club on the outskirts of the city, which was just enough to boost Jayne into a more helpful mood, until Mal informed him they weren't there to play, driving the Gunslinger back into a state of perpetual sulking. It was a disposition befitting the circumstances, however, and as Jayne's expression soured, Zoe's flashed darkly.

"Ten o'clock, Sir." She chimed, and Mal's gaze drifted to the bar.

Ben hadn't aged much, since Mal had last seen him. He was a tall beanpole of a man, with a shock of dark brown hair that stuck out at odd angles, and a lopsided mouth that fixed his features into something of a smirk. His face was bare, a family trait it seemed, and eyes, a glassy blue were rimmed by lashes far too pretty for a man. The weakness he had carried with him as a child, and into his young adult years still clung in the straight edge of his jaw, in the thinness of his wrists and elbows. He was nursing a mug, and there was a tremor as he lifted it to his lips.

Before Mal could stop her, Zoe had already started forward and he swore under his breath as the woman plowed her fist into his brother's face, sending him and the contents of his mug flying with the crack.

"Oohee…" Jayne howled, grinning, "And I was worried this'd be no fun."

By the time Mal reached the bar, Ben had righted himself, rubbing his jaw with a sheepish grin, "'Lo Zoe. Guess she's still mad, huh?"

Zoe gave a jolt forward and Mal put up an arm to keep her at bay, shaking his head, "Not a great start, Ben."

"Story of my life…" Rising, he sank back into his seat and lowered his hand into his lap. As Zoe straightened, Mal sat as well and for a moment, an uncomfortable silence stretched out. It was Ben who broke it, clearing his throat.

"Right, so… I guess you got my letter."

"This ain't just some hell of a coincidence, Ben. I got it."

"I was worried you wouldn't… I mean… I kinda figured you might just… I wouldn't have blamed you or anything, but I guess I'm just glad you're here."

He could feel Zoe tense, behind him and Mal clenched his jaw, "Ain't a family reunion, Ben."

"Right. The job." Clearing his throat, Ben nodded, "So… shipment usually comes in pretty late. Two crates, big red metal things. I only seen inside that one time, but it's the same cargo. Sometimes, you hear 'em… cryin'." Grimacing, he lowered his gaze, "Tried once, to get in, but I almost got caught. Last guy they pinched tryin' to steal from the boss wound up in seven pieces… I'll let you guess which pieces."

"Who's the boss?" Zoe's voice broke through, cool and definitive, and Mal looked back at her, before he returned his eyes to his brother.

"Guy named Carp. Don't exactly strike fear, but the man's an animal, no pun intended. Seen him shoot a guy, just for interruptin' him, once."

"Sounds charming… Let's say hi." Jayne commented, and Mal shook his head.

"I take it he's guarded?"

"Like a damn princess." Ben confirmed, nodding, "Arsenal is pretty high grade, too. And the place is a fortress."

"Can you get us in?" Mal asked.

"Reckon I can get you through the door, sure…"

"That's all we need." Mal rose, brushing off his slacks, "But after this, Ben? We ain't gonna get matching sweaters and meet for holidays. We go back to pretendin' your little backstabbin' mission succeeded. We clear?"

"Crystal." Ben muttered.

"Shiny. Jayne.. Get Serenity on the comms. Let the good doctor know we got powerful need of his sister. Ben, Zoe. Let's roll…"

---

Fortress, as it turned out, was not an overestimation of Jim Carp's enterprise. All the place needed was a few turrets, and a moat. Arriving by the front door might have intimidated any average man, but the crew of Serenity had seen too damn much, been through too much to put stock in ogres and dragons. Ben's credentials got them through the doors, and after that it might've gotten tricky, except that they had a secret weapon that not even Carp and his men were prepared for.

River Tam was a force to be reckoned with… And reckon, she did. By the time they reached Carp's office, the petite brunette had taken out a score of armed guards without breaking a sweat. The last three had run before she'd turned the corner, leaving the office door unmanned. Inside, Carp sat behind his desk, wearing a scowl that suggested he was privy to the fate of his men… and there was an unmistakable quiver to his voice as he spoke.

"Who… who the hell are you?"

"Don't much matter." Mal answered, leaning against the doorframe, "I heard tell you got yourself some merchandise ain't exactly aboveboard. Me, I don't take much offense to illegal matter, 'cept trouble is, you? You're sellin' people, and that rubs me all sorts of wrong ways." Straightening, he rested his hand on his sidearm, "So here's how it's gonna work. You're gonna stop. Tonight. No more shipments in or out. Closed for business."

"And what makes you think I answer to you?"

"You don't… You answer to her." Gesturing to River, he smirked, as the girl turned her eyes up to Carp, "Names River. And she's got a powerful mind in that pretty head of hers. You heard of what happened up there, on Miranda? She did that. Near single-handed. Scares the hell out of me, and me she likes. But you? She don't take a fancy. So either you get compliant… or I walk away, and she sticks around to finish our chat. Word of warning, she don't like to talk much."

Swallowing, Carp leaned back in his chair, "...I'll be ruined."

"My heart bleeds for you. We got us an accord? Or do I let you two get acquainted?"

"...I ain't scared of some little girl."

Grinning, Mal shook his head, and looked to River, whose own mouth twitched up in a subtle smirk, "...Wrong answer."

---

Three hours brought them back to Serenity, where with a yawn, River announced she was going to bed. In the end, Carp had agree to their terms with certain resignation, that resignation probably having something to do with the fear of losing his teeth. Mal was met by Ben, standing on the bay plank, his eyes wide as he stared down at his brother.

"What happened? Did you get in? Did something go--"

"Deal's done. Carp's out of the shipping business."

"Wait. That's it? You just… walked in and asked him to stop?"

"I said pretty please."

"Damn."

"Thing you gotta know about my crew, and me, Ben… We get the job done."

"Mal, I… Thank you. It's been hell… knowin' what's happenin' to those girls. And I guess… well, I guess that's it. Deal's done. I'll get lost." Fidgeting, he knotted his hands together, and Mal glanced up to Zoe, who had paused by the bay door, watching with a lifted brow. He shrugged and the woman smiled, rolling her eyes with a shake of her head, before she turned, walking away.

"Other thing you gotta know. We're family here. It's screwy, and it's gone through a hell of a lot of changes, but it's all some of us got. We trust each other. We got to, cause ain't nobody else out there got our backs."

"I get it, Mal."

"No you don't, kid. You never did." With a sigh, Mal turned away, "Thing is, it's my fault… what happened all that time ago. I didn't have your back, and you went off to find people who would. Just turned out they were on the wrong side. It don't excuse what you did, and those men that died, that'll ride on your mind for the rest of your life. Does mine. But it ain't no use hatin' you for it…"

Staring at Mal, Ben's brow quirked as he studied his brother's face, "...So, I guess I'll write, then?"

"...Or you can stay. Your choice." Brushing past Ben, Mal moved off into the ship, wearing a smirk.

For Malcolm Reynolds, Serenity hadn't always been home, but as it turned out, sometimes, that didn't matter much... Cause home found you.

Lady Catherine de Bourgh lie silent in her final resting place, being as richly appointed as her home had been upon this earth. Carvings of magnificent detail adorned the mahogany surface that surrounded her now lifeless body. Many were in attendance at the viewing and wake meant to honor her, but few had kind words for the woman who was more known for her intolerance and viciousness than anything that could be even remotely considered kind or charitable.

Ever her steadfast patron, however, Reverend Collins flitted around the group, giving out his practiced and ill delivered well wishes to family and friends. His offering of condolence was well meant and sincere, though his words rarely seemed to convey such a truth. His longsuffering wife, Charlotte, tried her best to be solicitous of the people, for her husband's sake, but she found them to be pretentious and lacking substance. Still, she was willing to endure because of her dearest friend, Elizabeth. Mr. Collins who bore his cousin no ill will for refusing his offer of marriage, was now offering his profuse and ebullient sorrow to Mr. Darcy over the loss of his relation.

"Mr. Darcy," he began as he bowed clumsily and deeply, "Please allow me to express the sorrow I must impart at this time of deepest grief at the deprivation we must now all endure in the loss of Lady Catherine. I feel it profoundly as I am certain you yourself must also, though you were estranged these many years. Such things are of little consequence when tragedy strikes. I feel certain she would bear no ill intent upon you for such events in the past. No, I am convinced Lady Catherine was of a large and generous heart in such things and would be pleased that you have come to pay your respects now that she is forever lost to us all."

Fitzwilliam Darcy listened with patience of a saintly nature and nodded, "Thank you Mr. Collins. I know she was fond of you. Rest assured you will not be forgotten in her absence. Anne has assured me that your position at the parish will be continued as before without interruption."

Mr. Collins looked shocked and a bit affronted, "I am pleased to know it, Mr. Darcy. But please do not suppose my grief to be ingenuine and of a nature as to garner your good favor for such an event as this. I am aware that you would have inherited Rosings Park and all its splendor had not Lady Catherine refused to entail it. She did express her displeasure at giving over her holdings to a man, but I know she was repentant at the end for her daughter's sake. I am sure she trusted that you would care for Miss de Bourgh appropriately even though you had not been granted ownership of Rosings, and sent you a missive expressing such a bidding. Nevertheless, I do feel great sorrow over her passing."

Darcy nodded, "I do not doubt your sincerity, Mr. Collins. It is, I am certain, the reason for your continuance in service of Rosings Park." He had no intention or interest in sharing any particulars about his cousin's inheritance or dealings in any way, and so refrained from speaking on the subject any further.

"Then I do indeed thank you, Mr. Darcy, most humbly I thank you."

Darcy dismissed himself from the man and went in search of his wife Elizabeth. In times of stressful and unpleasant dealings, she was his rock and strength. Catching sight of her standing with Charlotte and Anne de Bourgh, he made his way across the crowded room nodding to passing condolences and stepping up to the group. "How are you holding up Anne?" he asked gently.

Anne was dressed in a lavish black gown, which her mother had chosen for her to wear at this occasion. "I am well cousin. Please do not fret over my condition. I am not as feeble as mother wished everyone to believe."

Darcy nodded, "I well know it, Anne. I do find myself wondering if you will continue here once you marry..."

"Cousin, please...let us not imagine such things will ever occur. I know I am well past that age of desirability and my mother made certain no man would enter into my presence. I am content to live out my life in peace and solitude."

"Anne…" Elizabeth chimed in urgently and reached for her cousin's hands, "Do not suppose such a thing to be set in stone. You are looking far stronger and bright, and I dare say, you will find many men will be desirous of your company and favor."

Anne looked at her with sadness and resignation, "And how am I to ascertain if any of those gentlemen would be sincere upon obtaining my good opinion of a pure and noble motive? And not just to obtain Rosings?"

Elizabeth gave her hands a gentle squeeze, "This is precisely why you have cousins and relations to safeguard your heart and possessions. You know Mr. Darcy would never allow a man to deceive you."

Anne squeezed her hands in return and nodded, casting a gentle glance of appreciation to her cousin. Though her mother had always intended him for her, she had never seen him in such a light. He had always intimidated her greatly. She could see the rightness of his relationship with Elizabeth, where her mother never had been able to see anything but defiance and lack of class in the Bennet family.

The remainder of the wake and funeral procession passed by with practiced precision and speed, for which the Darcys and Lady Anne were all grateful. Darcy and Elizabeth were agreeable to remain at Rosings for a period of adjustment and reorganization, and to assist Anne in learning to govern the household on her own. She apologized profusely for her lack of knowledge of the household, but her mother had not brooked any alteration to her ways in any thing even miniscule in nature. Anne could now see the huge disservice her mother had done to her in this. Luckily she was well educated and of a ready and diligent nature. Her cousins were well pleased with her willingness to grow and learn. It seemed that she blossomed before them, from the sickly, timid soul to an assured and even outgoing woman.

Anne, at Elizabeth's urging, planned to open Rosings for a large gala ball to announce Anne's rightful place as Lady of Rosings Park, and to announce her to society, since Lady Catherine had never done so. The invitations were returned without a single refusal, which Elizabeth expected, but which Anne feared was people wishing to gawk at the awkward daughter of Lady Catherine, as she had come to be accustomed. However, Elizabeth was not about to allow such speculation in regard to her cousin. Especially since she could now be allowed to have a friendship with her, as she had often desired in times past. Pity for the girl's closeted lifestyle had always burdened Elizabeth's heart. For having to endure the constant presence of Lady Catherine surely, but also for being kept in such an isolated existence. Such things should never happen, and she dearly hoped that Anne would be able to recover the life that was kept from her in times past.

To that end, Elizabeth went with Anne to choose the perfect gown for the occasion. They visited many linendrapers before finding a gown that was exactly perfect for Anne. The fabric was a fine woven brocade of deep maroon with a tiered Marie sleeve and cream colored lace inset in the front. There was also a matching cream colored shawl of the same fine embroidered brocade fabric to match. It was beautiful and elegant and Anne was glowing with enchantment over the perfection of the fit of it. Her golden hair seemed lighter as did her pale blue eyes against the bold color, and Anne could not even believe she was looking at her own reflection in the glass.

Satisfied with their purchases, the women returned to Rosings to continue to plan the gala ball together. Elizabeth had been much helped when she had taken over at Pemberly by Mr. Darcy's household manager, and she had been so ridiculously grateful at the time. The exact degree of her overwhelming ineptitude as well as her mortification at her lack of preparation to handle such a daunting task still haunted her even now. So, she was very glad to now be able to pour that same relief into Anne's soul as a means of repayment.

After many days of planning and fussing over every detail of the arrangements, the day of the ball finally arrived. The women spent much time in preparation, with their maids doing their hair and seeing that their garments were perfectly pressed, as well as placing the perfect adornments into their hair, and upon their necks. Once they were both satisfied with their appearance, the two moved to the main entrance of the great hall and prepared to greet their guests. Mr. Darcy stood with them, as was his duty, along with Colonel Fitzwilliam, who had only just arrived, having received notice of his aunt's death with much delay regrettably.

Guests arrived in a constant onslaught for what seemed hours, but finally all guests had arrived and the party retired to the main ballroom, to mingle and enjoy the ball. Colonel Fitzwilliam claimed Anne's first dance and afterward, she did not sit a single one for the remainder of the evening. One man, someone who seemed to draw much speculation and inquiry, claimed three dances, setting himself apart from the other gentlemen in his intention.

Elizabeth leaned close to Darcy and whispered, "What do you know of that man?" she asked, "He seems most intent on capturing Anne's attention."

"He is Jacob Stanhope. He has only just inherited his father's shipping empire and is to have the oversight of it for the foreseeable future. I do not know the man personally, but he is from a good family and has been long sought after for the matrimonial estate by many women and their families."

"Ah, that does sound a familiar epidemic among wealthy men, does it not?"

"As you well know, my love."

"Indeed, for a young man with a mighty fortune must be in want of a wife else he perish of deprivation and solitude."

Darcy grinned and pressed a kiss to her temple, "I was informed as much, yes, upon many occasions."

Elizabeth gave his side a gentle poke with her elbow and then looked over at the young man in question.

"Am I to surmise you wish me to investigate the man's intentions?"

Her eyes flashed as they rolled in less than patient forbearance. "If it would not trouble you too terribly much to do so. I believe we are to ensure your cousin's safety from anyone who might be in pursuit of her merely for monetary gain, correct?"

"Ah yes. So we are." He bowed to her with a grin of impish devilry before parting from her and crossing the room to the gentleman in question. He bowed and made polite conversation with the man for a time before making note of his particular attention to his cousin Anne. Colonel Fitzwilliam was standing nearby as well, also feeling concern for his cousin, and listening in on the conversation furtively.

"It does you great credit, Mr. Darcy," Jacob noted, "To take such intimate care of your cousin. I do pay her particular attention because she is fully worthy of it. I find myself in a similar conundrum as Lady de Bourgh. I am pursued for the fortune women and their families seek to gain through a marriage alliance with me. It has become even more a problem since my father's passing. How can one know if attention is genuine, or based upon you in any way at all? No, I am convinced that without exception I am approached by people who could not care for my happiness at all, but see only a safe haven of wealth for their child."

Mr Darcy nodded, "I have been in your shoes, Mr. Stanhope. Allow me to assure you that some women's affections cannot be bought with wealth. Those women are worth the wait, and the effort involved to win them."

Jacob Stanhope nodded, "I fully agree. Lady de Bourgh is such an one. She is modest and gracious. Two traits that I find very appealing. Still, were I you, I imagine I would be wary as you are. I intend to prove my worth over time, not from one ball, if I may be allowed such a privilege."

"That would largely depend upon the wishes of my cousin. I will not speak for her in this matter. I will consult with her and return with a reply."

The rest of the evening passed in a blur for Anne. Jacob Stanhope was not the only man to express a wish to know her better and she was quite frankly overwhelmed by the attention and deferred all answers until she could clear her head. Something that both Darcy and Fitzwilliam both strongly advised.

The next morning at breakfast Anne looked as if she had not slept a wink all night. She did not speak much and was very much within her own thoughts. No one pressed her or even intruded upon them, but allowed her the space to think through her options without interference. However, by the dinner meal her desire to talk had returned and she set before her family, some of her thoughts. She summarily dismissed the intentions of several men as obnoxious and a few others as unmannerly. She was then left with Jacob Stanhope and Neville Berkeley as the two men who had impressed her with their manner and wit.

"I find I have no desire to be burdened with another person like my mother, of dour expression and cruelty. I wish to have joy and happiness in my life. I do not believe I am selfish in this desire."

"Of course not," Elizabeth chimed in with a fervent nod of her head, "You should be pleased and happy with your choice, and allow yourself to find love. It is not unattainable, Anne."

Anne looked at her beautiful cousin and felt sure her words were true for a natural beauty as the Bennet sisters had been known to be. She however, had never been known for her stunning good looks. She was feeling better about her appearance of late, but she still felt she paled in comparison to Elizabeth and Georgiana. "Perhaps," she conceded.

Darcy spared her any further comment, "Then I shall inform these men of your agreeableness to spending a bit more time with them, and gently inform the others of your declining of their attentions." His idea of gently may be different than hers but the deed would be done without her having to pain herself with the task.

Colonel Fitzwilliam was trying valiantly to hide his smile, but it could not be suppressed. In an attempt to contain his growing humor at Darcy's comment he looked to Anne, "Shall we invite one of these gentlemen to dine with us?"

"Dinner." Anne looked terrified.

"Dinner would be a perfect opportunity to take their likenesses," Elizabeth said as she looked around the table. "And we can help you...if you wish it."

Anne looked at Elizabeth with something akin to grateful terror. Her facial expression at that moment was an exact mixture of apprehension and hope. She did have romantic dreams. What woman did not? Hers were merely very well hidden and buried deep within her heart, but they were there.

A week later the first gentleman appeared at Rosings park for dinner. Neville Berkeley was dressed appropriately, though a bit plainly. He was not a showy man in his outward appearance, but his manners were gentle and cheerful in nature. He spent a good deal of the time before dinner regaling the group with stories of his various adventures as a barrister, leaving out the names of course to protect the identity of those he was poking humor at with his tales. He had a way about him of drawing in a whole crowd to attend to his every word, and once he had that attention he did not relinquish it. Only the dinner bell being rung broke his string of amusing anecdotes.

Dinner was a slightly quieter affair, with Darcy and Fitzwilliam each asking a few questions of the man, for their own reasons and to take their measure of the man's character. Fitzwilliam found the man very likeable, and a good match for Anne's more reserved manner. Darcy was not as quick to give his good opinion, nor was Elizabeth. Still they passed the evening enjoyably and all saw the man to the door before they retired to the music room.

Darcy was thoughtful and quiet. Elizabeth watched him, wondering what could be troubling him, though she too had misgivings she could not identify of her own.

Fitzwilliam poured himself a brandy, "Cheerful fellow that." he said breaking the silence in the room.

Anne smiled, "He told such stories as we danced," she offered, "I was quite entertained."

Elizabeth, having been in the past completely taken in by a happy manner and open nature, was not so easily persuaded of good character. "He is a good storyteller. He would do well as an author I imagine. Who would not wish to read such amusing tales to divert their mind from troublesome times?"

Darcy huffed, "The weak minded?" he interjected, "Forgive me love," he said placing a soft kiss to her temple, "I could not for all the money in the world listen to such drivel for many nights together. He does have a way of speaking that is engaging, i will give him that much. But though it was entertaining, it was underpinned with a cruelty that took a bit of the humor from it in my estimation."

Elizabeth thought back on the stories and she could not disagree with her husband's observations.

Anne shook her head, "Oh Darcy," she said as she gasped in a surprised breath, "That cannot be so," she said, "He was merely taking the humor of the situations and creating a way for us to be at ease. I cannot believe he intended any negative thought or feeling toward his clients, or his profession."

Darcy dropped the matter for her sake, but he was not swayed from his initial opinion.

A week later the second gentleman appeared at Rosings for dinner. He was dressed with a bit more color and formality than Mr. Berkeley had been, but his manner, while pleasing and polite was not as gay or engaging as his predecessor. He was very attentive to Anne, asking questions and attempting to honestly befriend the entire group. He even managed to convince Elizabeth and Georgiana to play for them all before dinner. Dinner was again a time of quiet questions and polite conversation after which they once more retired to the music room. Jacob lingered for a bit of time after dinner, and even played at the harpsichord for their entertainment.

"You are too kind," he said of their complements, "My mother was very ill when I was younger and music helped her to pass the days with less discomfort. Since her passing it has been a source of comfort to me, and a reminder of her memory." He thanked them all for a delightful evening and his wishes to have them all join him at his family estate not far from town in one week's time.

Darcy took the man's hand but it was Anne who replied for the group, "We have no set engagements. We would be pleased to join you."

Jacob smiled a full and joyful smile and gave Darcy's hand a firm squeeze, "Shall we say six then?" and when he had a nod in the affirmative, he bowed to the ladies, "Thank you for the lovely and delicious dinner, dear ladies. I look forward to seeing you both again in one week's time." And having said as much they walked him in like manner to the gate and saw him off before retiring to the music room.

Anne sat and watched the group, "So, what think you of him?" she asked, "I know you all have thoughts."

Elizabeth chuckled, "Indeed, how can we not? We are attempting to guard your heart and safety."

Darcy poured himself and Fitzwilliam a glass of brandy, "He has a bit more substance, and he was not attempting to hide himself behind tales of humor. But I will reserve my comments until after dinner next week, if you do not mind."

Anne made a face, "I mind, but I doubt it will avail me at all."

Fitzwilliam laughed loud at that comment, "I fear you are correct Anne. For my part, I saw no glaring fault in him. He is not as jovial as Mr. Berkeley, but as Darcy noted, he seemed a bit more genuine especially as concerns you. He at least spent time seeking to know you, and us too for that matter."

Elizabeth had to agree on that point, but like her husband she was not speaking her mind without further exposure to these men and their character. She had learned caution, realizing only after painful experience that not everyone is as they appear upon first acquaintance. The difficulty in this for her was that she sincerely wanted Anne to be happy, and it seemed that Anne preferred the cordiality of Mr. Berkeley. Her husband's comments about that man's manners was creating such a quandary for her. Was Mr. Berkeley trying to cover up for some great personal weakness by being so jovial? Was Mr. Stanhope honestly interested in Anne, or did he too have an ulterior motive? Surely the dinner they would share at his home would allow her a bit of enlightenment and direction in advising Anne properly.

The week passed quickly, as Elizabeth and Anne worked on learning the ins and outs of properly overseeing the care and provision of Rosings Park and her many constituents and employees. Anne was pleased to be able to make things better for everyone, under Darcy's advice and direction. She allowed for more wood to keep the huge estate warm and not as damp, which she noted had most of them feeling much better. She made many changes in the way things had always been done by her mother, because she had come to see them as selfish and unnecessary. Rosings produced more than enough money to afford to give the employees of the great manor a fair and comfortable life, and Anne intended to see that they had it. With every passing day she became more sure of her own abilities and that she could indeed manage things on her own.

With that knowledge however, came the secondary thought that she would lose her newfound freedom to make these choices to better others' lives, if she were to choose to marry. Did she wish to accept the governance of another again? Was she ready to place her life in someone else's hands? The many questions that crowded her mind regarding being a wife, began to make her more afraid of choosing than of being alone for the rest of her life.

Finally the night of the dinner arrived and once again the three women, for Georgiana Darcy had arrived that morning from school, spent hours being fussed over and pampered before they were ready to leave for their engagement. The invitation had been extended to all of them, and so Colonel Fitzwilliam joined them as well in the carriage as they made their way through town and out a bit into the countryside. The house set back down a long drive and as the carriage approached they were impressed by the immaculately sculptured gardens that could be seen just beyond the trees that lined the drive. The house itself once it came into view was crafted in the not English styles of the time, but looked rather like someone had literally dropped a french ornate chateau in the middle of the Kent countryside. It was very large and sprawling nearly half of the circle pull around and was ornately detailed at the roof eaves and the windows with what appeared to be gold corbels. The design included many interesting shapes which nearly forced the onlooker to desire to see the spaces inside. Anne found herself much impressed since Rosings was elegant, but not at all as interesting from without as Mr. Stanhope's manor.

A footman appeared from the gate to help them out of the carriage and usher them inside where Mr. Stanhope was awaiting them at the main doors. He bowed to them and welcomed them all with a friendly, inviting cordiality and ease that had them all instantly comfortable.

Elizabeth spoke first, "Your home is quite astonishingly beautiful, Mr. Stanhope."

"Is this french architecture?" Anne inquired.

"It is indeed Lady de Bourgh," he replied as he led them into the music room to relax before dinner, "I thank you for your kind words Mrs. Darcy. My mother was from Lyon and this was my father's attempt to help her feel less homesick for her native land." he looked around the room they were presently occupying and a sad smile appeared on his lips, "This was her favorite room," he said and the brushed off the thoughts and turned his attentions back to his guests. "I do hope you did not find the journey too long?' he asked as a beautiful young woman entered the room. She was dressed in nearly regal finery and her dark brown hair was adorned with pearls and flowers in a most becoming twisted braid.

The gentlemen all stood as she arrived and Darcy and Fitzwilliam both bowed to her.

"Please allow me to present my sister, Joelle Stanhope," he said formally, "Joelle, this is Lady Anne de Bourgh, Mr. and Mrs. Darcy and his sister Georgiana Darcy and finally Colonel Fitzwilliam."

"It is my great pleasure to finally meet you all," Joelle said with a brilliant smile, "I have heard such lovely things of you all from my brother." Her attention turned to Anne then, "Forgive me for being unable to attend your ball, Lady de Bourgh, I had much anticipated it but that day I had the unfortunate luck to be beset by illness and the doctor forbade me to travel."

Anne smiled kindly, "I am sorry we missed the opportunity of meeting you earlier. I do hope you are restored to full health now."

"Oh thank you, yes," she beamed, "I am grateful to report that I am."

Jacob was about to speak when the butler announced that dinner was ready to be served and the group retired to the dining room. The conversation around the table was lively and cheerful, much due to Miss Stanhope's friendly and outgoing manners. The meal was extraordinarily lavish and prepared to perfection. Once they were all seated comfortably in the music room again Joelle played and sang for them all.

Darcy leaned over to Jacob, "Take very good care of your chef, I am tempted to lure him away from you."

Jacob chuckled, "You would not be the first. He is well paid and I am blessed to have him."

Joelle left the piano after playing two songs and singing for them. Like her brother she was gracious and humble in receiving their appreciation. "Thank you all, I am glad you were pleased, but I understand that all of you are talented on the pianoforte as well."

Georgiana shook her head, "I fear my shyness forbids me singing before people as you have, I quite admire your boldness."

"It is selfishness honestly," Joelle admitted, "I enjoy it far more than my hearers I am convinced of it."

Anne smiled, "I highly doubt it. That was superb."

The remainder of the evening was passed in pleasant conversation, with Colonel Fitzwilliam spending a fair amount of time speaking with their lovely hostess. At length, the evening came to an end and the group climbed into the carriage and made the journey back to Rosings.

"I would not be adverse to spending more time in their company," Colonel Fitzwilliam said once they were out of the circle and back on the long drive off the property. His smile had not diminished since he had begun speaking to Joelle Stanhope.

"OH?" Darcy said with a devilish gleam in his eye, "You did not find Miss Stanhope overly accommodating?"

Fire flashed in Fitzwillliam's eyes, "What? Surely you did not think as much. She was charming and gracious."

Darcy laughed, "One meeting and you are smitten."

Elizabeth placed and hand on Darcy's arm, "He has a fine eye. She is lovely."

"And I dare say she has the dowry to garner your interest cousin." Anne offered as she tipped her head to look at him.

Georgiana stayed quiet as she listened to their conversation. She had a few suitors but no one had ever made her feel the rush of emotion she had once felt for Wickham in her gullible youth. Though he had been unworthy, she still wanted that type of connection with her future partner, and the more she saw her brother and Elizabeth together the more firmly the notion became fixed in her mind.

The Colonel did not gratify them with a reply from that moment on about any possible favor he might be feeling toward the lovely Joelle Stanhope. The expression on his face was telling enough, though he was unaware of the fact.

At breakfast the next morning Anne seemed a bit out of sorts, "Are you feel well Anne?" Elizabeth inquired.

"I am well dear Cousin...I did not rest well is all."

"Is something troubling you?"

"Actually yes," She admitted openly, "May I ask a question of you cousin? It is of a rather personal nature."

"Of course."

"Thank you." She paused a second to gather her words, "Do you ever regret marrying?"

The shock on Elizabeth's face could not have been contained for the power of her reaction, "No, not ever. What brings that question?"

"I have always been rather terrified of my cousin, though I know it was my mother's fondest desire for us to wed. Do you not feel...couched in? Being subjected to his authority?"

"Oh I see…You cousin has never made me to feel that way. He is sensible of my feelings and attentive to my needs, but I have great freedom to do as I desire, within the realm of propriety of course. He has in fact helped me a great deal to further the prospects of my younger sister Kitty, and gives me total freedom in the management of Pemberley. I believe I enjoy more freedom than most women can boast."
Anne nodded, "I would have to agree in light of that reply. It has occurred to me that if i choose to marry I will lose every bit of freedom I now enjoy since my mother's passing. Forgive me, I know that sounds incredibly selfish…"

"It most certainly does NOT sound selfish!" Elizabeth vehemently denied, "You have been forced to live according to another's bidding your entire life, and that was much to your own detriment and disadvantage. Forgive me for speaking so of one who can no longer defend themselves from my criticism, but you mother treated you so poorly. It always bothered me, Anne, truly it did. And for you to now value the ability to decide for yourself is not selfish but wise. What I suppose you must decide dear cousin, is if you want to spend your life free and alone or take a risk on a man being willing to allow you a certain amount of freedom and share your life with him."

"Yes, I suppose that is my dilemma."

The next month passed in a blur of activity. Both Mr. Berkeley and Mr. Stanhope appeared several more times at Rosings, and the family enjoyed several more dinners with the Stanhope's Estate. Anne was no closer to a decision between the men than she had been the night of that first ball, nor even had she concluded whether she wished to encourage either of them at all.

It was Mr. Berkeley however that appeared at their doorstep one day uninvited and unannounced. The Butler showed him into the parlor and summoned Anne in response to his visit.
He stood when she entered and waited for her to take a seat before he sat himself in a chair close to her but not next to her. He folded his hands together and leaned forward a bit in his chair. "Miss de Bourgh," he said softly, "You can be in no doubt of my intentions for our acquaintance. I know this may be considered abrupt, but I have no choice in this matter, as I must leave soon on business. Will you consent to be my wife?"

Anne was alarmed at the change in his demeanor and way. Gone was the jovial man and in his place was one that was overly serious and demanding. At least she felt his manner in that way. "I thank you for your request Sir," she began but before she could continue he stood and was glaring down at her.

"You surely do not have the audacity to decline."

"Excuse me?"

"Honestly? You are the most pathetic creature I have ever encountered, and you are going to turn away an offer of marriage? Had I not the need of additional funding for my business I would never have considered you. I can assure you, that everyone else is of the same opinion. Good day Madam, consider my offer lifted and your burden to answer as well." He stormed out leaving her shaken and shocked.

Georgiana saw Mr. Berkeley leaving and noted the brusque manner of his movements and was instantly taken back to a similar exit from her life long ago. She tentatively moved toward the door to the parlor and saw Anne sitting on a chair transfixed. She frowned and moved to her side kneeling before her and taking both Anne's hands in her own. She did not speak for she knew there were no words for times such as this, but merely offered her support silently.

Elizabeth entered upon this scene unwittingly and stopped at the door, fearing she had intruded upon some private conversation, but Georgiana motioned for her to enter. Once she got closer she saw the look on Anne's face and concern instantly filled her, "What on earth happened in here?' she asked as she pulled a chair closer and sat next to the other two.

Anne stared at the wall and told them the entirety of the conversation in explicit detail, though with in a far less emotionally charged manner than had actually taken place.

Elizabeth and Georgiana exchanged a meaningful glance. Georgiana left the room quietly and went in search of her brother. "Anne," Elizabeth softly called to her, "Surely you realize he was completely in error…"

"Was he?"

"Yes, Anne. He was."

Anne just stared at the wall reliving every encounter with the man and trying to ascertain how she could have so totally misjudged his character and comportment. It shook her to know her judgment was so wholly wrong. Could she trust her judgment in regards to any man? Was she this gullible and desperate for a man's attentions? The resounding answer echoed in her brain, yes. She did not speak but left the parlor and went to her room. Elizabeth followed her for a time, but allowed that time alone was more than likely what Anne needed most.

Darcy appeared at her side with a puzzled expression on his face, and Elizabeth gave him all the particulars of the encounter and he hissed out an exasperated breath. "I knew he was a fraud." He left Elizabeth and went out into town to find the man in question and confront him, but he found no evidence of such a man even existing, nor a company, nor any record of such a man staying at any place in town. How had he happened to be invited to the ball? He wondered. Was the real Mr. Berkeley the victim of foul play? Surely Anne had avoided a far greater tragedy than having to endure a verbal scalding. He went to the authorities then and reported him as an imposter and gave a description of the man in great detail before returning home.

Unfortunately, word of such things had a way of getting around, and the very next day Mr. Collins appeared at the door asking to console with Lady de Bourgh. Anne appeared in the parlor again and sat not knowing why Mr. Collins might be there, except possibly to check on her condition since the passing of her mother.

"Miss de Bourgh," he said in his normal awkward manner, "I felt it my duty to come to you this day and offer my sincerest apologies and offer my services of counsel regarding the horrible manner in which you were thrown aside just yesterday by a man of great promise and wealth. How bitterly you must feel it! To have lost such an opportunity at marriage at this advanced state of life must be intolerably painful! I must say though, that he has deprived himself of far more than you shall be deprived of since he will have no further communion with Rosings, in all her glory."

It was at this moment that Elizabeth returned from her weekly visit to Charlotte and happened to overhear what was being spoken in the parlor. She entered the room pulling off her gloves as she did so and moved to stand next to Anne's chair, "Mr. Collins," she said, "I have only just come from spending the morning with your wife, and she was mentioning something about the archbishop coming for a surprise visit…"

Mr. Collins stood up and blinked, "Surprise?" he repeated and gathered his things and fidgeted about, "Forgive me Miss de Bourgh. I must attend to other matters. But know that I consider this man a rogue of the worst sort, for your sake." And with that he exited the room and quit the place altogether.

Elizabeth put a hand on Anne's shoulder, "There is not a stupider man upon the face of God's earth, Anne….well with the exception of Mr. Berkeley. Though my husband informs me that he was more than likely in imposter, and is in fear of the real Mr. Berkeley's life. In that event perhaps it is unwise to call that criminal by an honest man's name."

Anne frowned, "Darcy had not expressed such concerns to me. I cannot say it surprises me given the violence that was seen by me of the man who claimed to be a gentleman, but it just confirms in my mind that I am incapable of making any sort of right conclusion about a man. I believe I have decided to live out my life in contented happiness at Rosings, Elizabeth."

She once again stood and left Elizabeth to ponder her going.

It was not long after Anne declined an invitation to dinner from the Stanhope's that Jacob requested an audience with Anne. She could not find a way to decline his polite request in light of the fact that he had done her no harm, and had treated her family kindly. So with much trepidation she agreed to his request.

Jacob had not seen Anne in nearly two weeks, and he was curious as to why their friendship was so suddenly ended. Word of the violent and less than gentlemanly behavior of his rival had indeed reached him, but he did not attribute that occurrence to this. He had hoped that they were at least friends, and that she would not treat a friend with such little regard. He appeared at the appointed time and was led to the music room, because Anne was growing to hate the parlor. He was confused by this, but he sat and waited for her to appear. She looked pale and sad, but he did not comment on that fact, just stood as she entered and waited for her to be seated.

"Good day to you, Mr. Stanhope," Anne said formally. "How may I help you?"

Jacob looked almost insulted by her manner of address and even by her question. "I have never required or asked for any help, Miss de Bourgh. Why you would ask such a thing at this time, I am not sure. It has been many days since I have had the privilege of being in your company, and I was concerned for you. Fearing you had fallen ill traveling late at night from dinners in the country, and feeling the burden of my own selfishness at making the requests, I wanted to meet with you and ease my mind and know your condition first hand. I am sorry if my appearance has caused you discomfort. I did not intend to do so."

Anne frowned as she listened, "Forgive me, Mr. Stanhope. I have been remiss. I am not accustomed to people taking note of my absence. I did not mean to distress you or your sister. I am physically fine."

Jacob watched her and it seemed to him that she was pulling into herself, and closing herself off somehow. It was horrible to watch, especially knowing he could do nothing to prevent it. "No, I am presumptuous. I can see that my feelings in this matter are far different from yours. Forgive my intrusion on your time and please give my best wishes to your family." He stood then and bowed to her formally and then with one long look at her he departed.

Anne sat in the chair, stiff backed with her hands folded on her lap for a full thirty minutes. She could not bring herself to move, though a lot of her wanted to run after him and beg him to love her, truly and honestly love her. She felt dead inside though, and the idea that she would never have true love filled her liked a cancer and ate at her soul. She did not appear at dinner that night, alarming her family greatly. Leaving a message with the staff that she did not wish to be disturbed, not even by family, they had little choice but to honor her wishes.

However, when she did not appear for breakfast the next morning, Darcy sent Elizabeth to check on her. Knocking on the door, she waited for a bit, and then called out to her, "Anne...please...are you well? We are worried for you."

Anne went to the door to her rooms and pulled on the heavy door, "I am well cousin. I am well."

Elizabeth looked at her and frowned, "Forgive me Anne, you do not LOOK well. What is wrong? Can you not confide in me? We are cousins and more importantly friends. At least I had hoped that we were, now that we can be."

"Of course we are Elizabeth," She felt the tears sting her eyes as she spoke seeing and hearing the hurt she had caused Elizabeth. "It seems I can do nothing right of late." She turned and moved to sit on the side of her bed. Still in her nightclothes and robe, she pulled the robe tighter around her as her head fell forward and she allowed the pain to leave her in wracking sobs.

Elizabeth went to her and sitting next to her on the bed wrapped an arm around her and held her, whispering words of comfort to her. Crying was often times cathartic and well Elizabeth knew it. How long had she spent crying over Mr. Darcy's letter? Over Lydia's thoughtless destruction of her family's good name? Over Jane's loss of her only love? Letting her cry while she patiently waited was not difficult, waiting for her to speak was, but still she waited.

Anne collected herself after much time and quietly told her cousin about Mr. Stanhope's visit. "Oh Elizabeth, how he must hate me now. He offered honest friendship and I threw even that in his face. I am a wretched woman."

"You are not wretched Anne. You have been through a lot in a very few days, I am sure if you explain…"

"Explain what? That I am an imbecile?"

"Well, if you feel the need to confess such a thing, then yes."

Anne chuckled then, which was what Elizabeth was hoping. "He would at least know I was in earnest I suppose."

"He will know in any event, I feel sure. And...what have you to lose at this point?" Having said her peace and giving her cousin a firm hug, Elizabeth left the room and went to report to Darcy what she had discovered.

Anne however went to her desk and penned a letter to the Stanhopes. She had no expectations, but wished them to know that she was sorry, and attempted to explain her confusion and fears. She was brutally honest in the letter and did not spare herself the blame of anything. Sealing the letter with her signet, she stared at it for some time before deciding to actually send it.

Many days passed and Anne feared she had done irreparable damage to a dear friend's good opinion of her. Maybe he was like her cousin, and once his good opinion was lost, it was lost forever. She went about her duties and made ready for Darcy's family to return home. Colonel Fitzwilliam had been forced back into the country long ago, and she knew that once they left she would be truly alone for the first time in her life.

The day finally came when they were packing to leave and she felt like her heart would shatter completely. All the things her mother had told her about the both of them had been utterly false. They had proven themselves to be her friends over and over again throughout this two months they had stayed, which was far longer than usual or likely planned. She could not ask more of them, Darcy had things to attend to at home, as did Elizabeth and Georgiana. She was not above making them promise to return at their earliest convenience, which they happily agreed to do.

Sitting in the music room listening to the echoes of the staff moving around the large estate, she felt the chill of her choice settle deeply into her soul. "I am just as foolish as my mother…" she said softly to the walls. She let out a heavy sigh when she heard a carriage round the park. "Please God, not Mr. Collins. ANYONE but Mr. Collins."

She stood and waited to see who was there, if anyone. It could be a delivery. It was often difficult to tell where a carriage was going, whether to the main entrance or the scullery entrance in the rear. Her butler knocked on the door to the music room, "A Miss Stanhope to see you Miss."

Anne was relieved and so very glad to have this visit. She had addressed her letter to both of them, feeling that necessary to her repentance. When Joelle entered Anne smiled a bright smile, "Thank you for coming," she said and ushered her in, "Can I get you some tea? Have you eaten?"

Joelle shook her head, "Thank you, no." she said as she sat down and Anne followed her example and sat as well, "I have come to ask you a very direct question Miss de Bourgh. Your letter was honest, and I assume your reply will be as well, for that reason."

"It will."

"Your letter mentioned being afraid of your own judgment and I can understand that, being in a similar situation myself. I cannot tell you the times my brother has saved me from infamous men. Too many to count, honestly. What I wish to know does not concern me, but my brother. He would never ask for himself, so I am asking. Do you care at all for him? Did you ever care for him?"

Anne was shocked to hear that Joelle had been fooled by men as well. Perhaps it was not her then that was at fault in this matter, or even her judgment. The realization of that created a light inside her that she felt she had lost forever. "He is the only man who has ever attempted to be my friend. I am tortured daily by the thought that I have lost his good opinion forever."

"So you think of him as a friend…"

"He has expressed no other wish to me. Miss Stanhope, I am well aware that I am lacking in certain aspects that gentlemen seek in a marriage partner. I am quite resigned to the fact that I will spend my life as I am. But losing friends, when I have so few, breaks my heart. It is even more distressing when it was my own insecurities that caused it."

Joelle looked at her like she was crazy, "You lack what?" she asked pointedly. "Kindness? Humility? Charity? If you refer to appearance, there is nothing about you that is offensive. I have little to recommend myself aside from my outward appearance and the money I can offer someone, but you have so much more substance than I. I quite admire you for it."

Anne protested, "You are genuine and kind, and of a sweet nature. What man would not be blessed to have you as his wife?"

"And yet you see none of this in yourself?"

"No, I do not."

"Well my brother does. He has been impossible to live with, and if you tell him I said as much I will of course deny it."

"Of course," Anne chuckled.

"If I were to tell you that my brother loves you, what would you say?"

"I would say you were mistaken."

"No Anne. I am not. I heard more of you in one week than I have ever heard about another woman in my life. After the first dinner at our house, he was begging me to tell him he did not do anything offensive or improper. He was so concerned for your favor and good opinion. He knew there was another man in the picture, that he was not as cheerful or witty. He had seen as much at your ball. He felt himself horribly inferior and lacking, and he did not know how to make himself acceptable to you."

Anne listened and the more Joelle spoke the more her expression became one of bewildered awe. She was silent for a time as she absorbed everything Joelle had disclosed. "I wonder if you might do me the favor of waiting while I pen a letter to your brother."

Joelle smiled, "Since I could not imagine a better sister, I will wait."

Anne blushed prettily, "He may not forgive me. Some men find it difficult to overlook faults such as those I have confessed."

Joelle just smiled and motioned to the desk in the corner.

Anne stood then and wrote another letter, this time to only Jacob.


My Dear Friend Jacob Stanhope,


I pray you will indulge me in the reading of this second letter, since I have something of import I feel I must tell you and since I fear you may not allow me to do so in person, for the wrongs I have inflicted upon you, this is my only recourse. Forgive me for presuming upon your time and attention, both are greatly appreciated.

There are times in life when one must take stock of their choices, both the wise and foolish, and accept the consequences of both as their just due. I find myself earnestly desirous of mercy, and forgiveness instead of the condemnation I rightly deserve. How can I convey my sorrow over the loss of your company? How can I convince you that I feel completely devoid of joy and peace? How can I even dare to hope that you feel that same loss?

It is highly presumptuous I know, and even arrogant to believe that I might in some way matter to you in any way. But, Dear Jacob, I must tell you that I miss you. I felt the light die within me when you walked out of Rosings with such a disappointed expression on your face. I wish I had been strong enough to run after you as I fervently wished to do, but I was a coward. Given another opportunity, I would chase after you and beg you not to go. Given another opportunity, I would offer a broken and damaged heart at your feet, knowing that only you could mend those pieces and create a new heart within me.

Am I too late? Have I done irreparable damage to your good opinion of me? I sincerely hope I have not.


All my heart,


Anne de Bourgh


She sealed the letter as before and presented it to Joelle. "I can only hope now."

Joelle hugged her and kissed her cheek, "I will welcome you to the family now, Sister." She said and then left almost skipping out of the room in her joy. Her brother would complain for a second, about her interfering but she would soon be forgiven she knew. The ride home seemed to take a million years, but finally she arrived and flew into the house in search of her brother. She felt sure he would be the same place he had been for a week, sitting in his office staring out the window.

She moved into the room, closing the door behind her and then stood between him and the window looking down at him with a positively disgusted look on her face, "How long are you going to mope about in this ridiculous manner?"

Jacob looked up at her and he could not even muster the emotional response her words should have elicited.

"Oh for pity sake Jacob. Snap out of it, or I will not give you the letter I have for you."

He waved a hand, "Let me be, Joelle."

"Very well, I will tell Miss de Bourgh you did not care to read her letter…"

He was up out of the chair and standing between her and the door faster than she ever remembered him moving. "You will do no such thing."

She smiled sweetly, "You can pretend to be angry that I have interfered." And handed him the letter before she kissed his cheek, "I do love you brother."

He was wondering exactly what she had done, but he was more interested in what the contents of that letter might be. He sat and looked at it for a time before drawing up the courage to break the seal. He read the letter five times and then rushed out of his office, nearly plowing Joelle over, as she was listening at the door.

"OH!" she gasped as she nearly fell to her bottom.

"That is what happens when you make yourself a busybody."

"Luckily you love me." she replied cheekily, "Now go get me a Sister."

He kissed her cheek and went to get his horse, rather than waiting for the carriage. He did not have to stay to the roads that way, and made it back to Rosings in half the normal time. He handed the reins off to the doorman and then requested to see Anne. He was led to the music room, where Anne was pacing nervously. She looked up and stopped cold in her tracks, afraid to speak and afraid not to speak.

He did not give her the opportunity but crossed the room and pulled her tightly into his arms and held her close. He then released her and pulled a box from his pocket, "Miss Anne de Bourgh of Rosings Park, will you please consent to be my wife, share my life and build a future together? I have been in love with you since the first night we met. I can no longer see any future life for me without you in it."

Anne looked at the box and then back at him, "Nor can I."

"Is that a...yes?"

"It is."

The first thing I remember is feeling… stiff. I opened my eyes with a click, and saw a dark room, populated with nothing more than a single wooden chair and the man sitting in it. Despite the dim lighting, I could tell his long, slightly scruffy hair was gold in color. A little stubble adorned his chin, and although he was smiling, his gentle blue eyes seemed tired, perhaps, maybe even sad. He was looking at me so very tenderly.

"Who am I?" He asked me.

I blinked at him, feeling as well as hearing the precise click-clack of my eyelids. I could feel the gears in my neck churning as I turned my head up jerkily to better meet his eyes, and the attempt to open my mouth to speak resulted in my jaw snapping open. "F-a-ther." I told him.

His smile widened in satisfaction, emphasizing the laugh lines around his tired eyes and flashing pearly whites at me. "Yes. Now, who are you?"

"Alice." I didn't really know what this meant, but it felt like the right thing to say.

Father laughed slightly. "No. Your name is Ruby. You are not Alice. Not yet." He reached out his hand and tucked my own golden locks behind my ear. I didn't know what that meant either, but I knew I loved him. So, without the slightest click of a gear, I gave him a smile of adoration and stretched my arms out towards him. None of us ever saw Father besides the time of our birth. Perhaps that's why we all remember that first meeting so clearly.

I've never really questioned the idea that Alice had to be born by killing off all of the other not-Alices. It's not a matter of principle. I love my sisters, but we were made with a purpose. There is no meaning to our existence if we do not fulfill it. One of my servants once asked me how that was supposed to reflect on Father, but it's not really my place to think about. Let the humans worry about that sort of thing.

That's what I always thought.

Even for a doll like me, though, it's hard to think that when you're holding the soul of a beloved sister in your hand like a trophy, looking down at the pristine body of porcelain that once held it. This was the first time one of us died. If you want to know what happened, first swear. Swear by the rose, or all you will see are fragments, shards of what have passed.

Centuries of sleep, one waking up, maybe another. Never all at the same time.

A girl with blonde hair and blue eyes. Just like me. Only, she was alive. She didn't like me. I wasn't good enough. She knew that.

Rose petals, vibrant pink and glowing, swirling around in a violent storm. They flowed from my fingertips effortlessly, surrounding my angry adversary. She never did like things easy, my sister without a soul.

Opening my eyes to see a boy. A real boy. He looked confused and scared, but I slapped him anyways. It's not polite to mess with a lady when she's asleep. I could already tell he wasn't exactly going to be the most decorous of my servants, but the dolls knew he was a good kid. He had a good heart. He would prove this to be true, later.

There she was again, my soulless sister. Mercury didn't sleep like the rest of us did, which meant she was prepared when one of us awoke, always waiting for the chance to steal our souls. She was strong, too, but I was always stronger. I never believed her claims that she had more love in her soul, though. Only more desperation.

Canary. When did she wake up? Her little yellow umbrella swinging. She pretends to try, but has never taken the Alice Game very seriously. I sometimes wonder if she really wants to become Alice at all, though she doesn't deny our cause the way Berry does. I used to think she might be the first to go. How wrong, I was.

A house full of noise. Warm tea that tastes of love. A silly, human cartoon. Five dolls. The other two…. Well, I never thought Mercury would consent to join us in peace, and none of us have ever seen our seventh sister. This has always troubled me, because without all seven souls, Alice cannot be born, but how do you acquire what you are not sure even exists?

The peaceful days stretch too long. I realize now why none of us have died over the centuries. When we began, we were too young. Now, we are too soft. Too used to peace and comfort. Perhaps it makes me a fool, but I have grown used to it, too. I don't know how or if the first blow will ever come, but if it does, it must happen now. It is the first time we are all awake at the same time. It must mean something. We cannot remain this way forever, pretending to fight even as the humans destroy everything they have created. That is not what was meant to happen. We are not allowed to let that happen.

I never expected to see that look in Lapis Lazuli's eyes. She didn't want it as much as Mercury, but she was always so very serious. I misjudged her. I thought her love for Jade would hold her back forever. It turns out her love for Father mattered more.

I always wondered why I was the only one whose power had rose petals. As I watched them stream forward again, I couldn't help but think maybe there was a reason I was the strongest, a reason why I was the Ruby of the Rozen Maiden. I only wish I knew what that reason was. Despite my strength, circumstances have never allowed me to make the final blow. And now? Now I wasn't sure if I could. Lapis Lazuli knew, though. Mercury did, too. I could see from their expressions that they knew what choice I would make, and they were right. It seems the last Alice Game has begun. I close my eyes as I take Lapis Lazuli's soul, and can only feel the desire to see Father again. I wonder what he will say at the end of all this. I wonder what all this will mean, if it will mean anything at all.

THE BANDIT QUEEN OF DARKOVER

Despite his best efforts, he had been trapped!

Poised and polished, Damon Leynier-Ridenow sat courteously with his best friend's grandfather, listening once again to his host's stories of days gone by. Though Damon was careful not to betray his thoughts, he winced internally. The old man considered himself a historian but many of his fantastical tales of centuries past sounded more like fairytale than fact.

Earlier, after going riding in the foothills of the southern Kilghard Hills, he and Lerrys Aillard had made plans to go to an ale house of good repute in the nearby village. But when Lerrys stopped by his family's country home to quickly change clothes, his lady mother had snabbled both of them and dragged them off to sit down at a family dinner. (Would that his friend were not so fastidious about his attire!) Damon couldn't disgrace his lineage by bad manners. There had been no choice but to accept the invitation.

Damon's childhood friend shot him a rueful glance of apology across the large formal room to where they had all retired after dinner, but made no move to intervene, the traitor! Damon caught a whisper of Lerrys' pitying thoughts, "Poor old Damon, always sacrificing himself to protocol. Never a hair out of place or a wrong move. Not the fun-loving hellion he once was."

Didn't Lerrys understand that he too would have to grow up someday? Perhaps not. Not all young noblemen did. Especially those without the gift of laran and the burdensome responsibilities that went with such powers, such as telepathy, as its bearers received.

The large, white-bearded old man in front of Damon now seemed close to nodding off. He was in the midst of rambling about ships of metal which flew above the four moons carrying visitors from the stars, when his eyes completely closed, his voice trailed off, and he slid slightly forward in the richly embroidered throne-like chair. Damon, tall, slender, and deceptively muscular, moved quickly to keep Dom Aillard from falling onto a footstool as two attendants in house livery hurried to the elderly nobleman's side, murmuring their thanks for his assistance.

Damon made a polite response and glanced covertly around the room. No use leaving one trap only to fall into another!

Lerrys' three younger sisters, unmarried and scandalously flirtatious, were on the move. Soon he'd be bombarded with musical offerings and compelled to sing duets of love songs. Scorpion whips of Zandru, no thank you!

Damon rose gracefully, but swiftly, and made an exquisite bow to Lerrys' lady mother, thanking her for her hospitality. Of course, she pressed him to stay the night, but lying through his teeth, Damon smiled charmingly and claimed a previous social obligation, leaving everyone (except Lerrys) with the vague impression that he had a romantic assignation elsewhere. Lady Aillard pursed her lips in disapproval, while Lerrys' buxom sisters giggled and stole glances at him beneath lowered eyelashes.

They were nice enough girls, but the young nobleman had no desire to marry any of them and he made a mental note to take Lerrys to task later for not warning him the ladies had removed to their country home. From what he knew of Lady Aillard's shameless maneuverings, it would not take much time before he found himself boxed into a compromising situation where he'd be forced to offer for one of the girls.

Although he was not independently wealthy, an eldest son, or in line for the throne, he was of noble lineage, had proven laren through working in a tower with other gifted telepaths, and his family was of good repute. In short, meat for the marriage market!

The fact that he was a handsome, refined-looking man in his 20's, pale skinned, with crystalline grey-blue eyes and with a head of hair so deep a red as to almost have a violet tinge in the last rays of sunset, meant little to those looking for a bridegroom. Money, family, and laran were what the nobility cared about and though his Ridenow gifts of telepathy, empathy, and the ability to sense and communicate with non-human intelligences were not as impressive as the gifts that the Altons or the Hasturs possessed, they were still valued. The Leynier side of his heritage was in name only. It was family lore that some of his Leynier ancestors once had the ability to change shape or create illusions, but he had never experienced such nor met any family members that had a claim to it. Frankly, the rumors of it seemed mere fancy to him and as far-fetched as ships of metal above the moons ferrying creatures from the stars!

With a half-playful glance at his friend that promised retribution, Damon managed to obtain his horse from the stable and escape out into the warm summer night. He was no pampered lordling and would have been tempted to lay down his bedroll and stay out under the stars instead of seeking a room at the village inn, had it not been for the rumors of the Bandit Queen of Darkover (as some called her), whose secret lair was thought to be somewhere in these Kilghard Hills.

Whether she was truly just a mercenary bandit or a champion of the poor (as some whispered), he didn't know. What he did know, was that she was no creature of the imagination!

He had caught a glimpse of her once--a tall, slender woman in a white mask, appearing suddenly out of a dense forest at the top of a hill, projecting an aura of both cool strength and exquisite delicacy. A long strand of hair which appeared silvery in the moonlight blew loose from under her hood as she sat mounted on a magnificent black stallion that he would be loathe to put any woman on (save a MacAran who had the gift of rapport with beasts). Damon had been one of a party who were asked to ransom a spoiled and vicious young nobleman that had fallen afoul of the Bandit Queen's people.

The Bandit Queen must have had a leronis in her band, for the ransom money was levitated up to one of her companions, who examined the contents of the coffer and then nodded to her. She had motioned for one of her henchman to lead their filthy and outraged captive forth by a rope around his neck, letting the man stumble his way by foot to his rescuers. (It was a bad bargain for the parents--the miscreant was not the worth the money his family paid, for he was dead within the month; purportedly knifed in some Dry Towns gambling den when he was found cheating.)

Damon had never forgotten that night. Unbidden, her image often tugged at his mind in quiet moments as if she were some kind of puzzle he had failed to solve.

It wasn't that he lusted after her (though she radiated a mysterious beauty, and the gods knew he was no saint of the snows!), but it was as if some hitherto unseen golden thread hidden inside him had been tugged free at her appearance and it teased at him constantly. Damon sighed in exasperation. He wasn't fond of mysteries. Shaking his head as if to clear it of cobwebs, he guided his horse down the road to the nearest village.

He found a clean if somewhat simple inn there, and after a relaxing bath, padded quietly back to his rooms. With a sigh, he admitted to himself the growing compulsion he had to visit the Overworld this night. Impulsive as a boy and apt to act on intuition rather than concrete facts, Damon thought that such childish qualities had been drummed out of him during his telepath's training in the Tower some years ago. He had convinced himself that nowadays he chose to only act upon reason and fact and clung to that belief even after he made his decision to leave the Tower.

But something was cracking in him. Some hidden element was breaking its way to the surface ever since his sighting of the Bandit Queen, but for the life of him he could not reason it out. And it was making him crazy.

"Alright then," Damon murmured to himself, "let's try a different tactic. Follow my intuition. Be impulsive, damn it then." He was tired of fighting against himself.

Barring the door, he laid down, one hand over the blue starstone that resided in a silk bag on a cord about his neck, and let himself slip into a light trance, freeing himself to look in upon the Overworld, the psychic plane of existence where time and distance took on a different connotation. Tower-trained, he noted certain markers, lest he lose his way, being alone.

As he entered the Overworld with his barriers more open than they had ever been, but not completely unguarded, he was shocked to immediately feel a strong pull exerted on his astral self. Damon hesitated only for a moment and then let himself be pulled, flying over the ethereal landscape without effort. "Completely impulsive," his mind muttered to itself, "you'll be lucky if you survive this night."

Why didn't he care more? Had his life gotten so controlled, so dreary, that he was willing to take foolish risks? Wasn't he being childish? Or was it just possible that his true nature, rather than being reformed, had simply been tamped down, stifled…

As Damon came closer and closer to whatever was magnetizing him, he struggled with himself. He was afraid. And yet … eager. That was crazy. Wasn't it? "Fear," he thought. Fear was reasonable. Fear was a mature response to a dangerous situation. Fear went hand in hand with caution and restraint. And he was tired of it, tired of himself, tired of being so LIFELESS, of obeying rules that other people made up, of being taught not to feel so strongly, to hold back, to deny the reckless vibrancy and boundless compassion for others that had characterized him as a boy.

The truth was, he had HATED his time in the Tower and had been ill-suited for it but determined to succeed so that his family not be shamed.

"By all the gods," Damon thought with reluctant amazement and resignation, "I never really changed, did I? I just buried myself in the deepest grave I could come up with, comprised of protocol for nobles as well as telepaths, chained by self-denial, discipline and the dictates of my teachers." Blessed Aldones, exactly what path was he supposed to follow now?! He couldn't go back to being a child and he knew now, in his deepest heart, he couldn't continue life as it had been these last few years.

He was flying now, under the changing skies of the Overworld, across a gleaming expanse of a forest clearing that was piled with white crystalline flowers. Abruptly, he dropped as if whatever pulled him had ceased to exist.

Painlessly, he landed in the field of white flowers and looked about for a clue as to who or what had called him here. He saw a humanoid form in the middle of the meadow and cautiously headed in that direction, gradually feeling something like a pulse thrumming between them.

As he drew closer, he saw what appeared to be a tall slender woman in a white dress that trailed across the ground. She was facing away from him and she seemed to be weeping hysterically into her hands. There were ugly blood-stains on her garment and her long silvery blonde hair was tangled and unkempt. He reached out to tentatively touch her shoulder, but lowering her hands, she spun to face him and he took a step back.

His heart hammered as if an arrow had just been loosed in his face. It was the Bandit Queen, he was sure of it! The golden thread he had felt after first seeing her, tightened and sang within him. Her face was unmasked and ravaged with grief; her golden eyes were swollen with tears.

"I CAN'T DO THIS ANYMORE!" she screamed in rage and sorrow as if not really seeing him. "I can't. Do this." She fell to her knees before him, shoulders slumped as if all the fight had gone out of her.

"Please," she whimpered as if begging him. "All the strangers. I can't. Anymore. Please."

Unsure who or what he appeared to be to her (for appearances were known to change in the Overworld) and using all of his formidable gift of empathy, Damon opened the last part of his fortressed heart and knelt before her, taking her unresisting astral self into his arms and cradling her. Though they were not flesh and blood here, their psychic gifts were such as to create a very tangible sense of touch.

He could feel her tumultuous emotions as if they were his own. Such despair, such long-standing loneliness, such pain! He would have forbade to intrude into her thoughts, but she opened her mind to him without barriers.

Half-chieri and abandoned as an infant, she feared she was the last of her kind. She had been found by the hill folk one morning, and had dwelt among the laran-blind, never seeing another chieri, the long-lived Old Folk of the Forest, the reclusive, ancient and mysterious people who were the oldest and most powerful race on Darkover.

As she grew to womanhood, she was physically stronger than any human male, and blessed with more powerful laran than the most potent human psychic could ever possess. But shy and retiring, like all those of her race, she hid among the hill folk, avoiding other human contact until she could no longer ignore the injustices and cruelties inflicted on her foster tribe by careless nobles and rapacious bandits.

Thus, realizing her strength, the young woman had become the "Bandit Queen of Darkover," a defender of those who has succored her as an infant and who had raised her from childhood. But the inability to share her inner self with anyone, the repulsion she had for physical intimacy with the laran-blind, and the sheer isolation of being the only one of her kind, was driving her half-mad, though she had bravely tried to struggle against despair and loneliness.

Mhari was her name.

Damon rocked the crumpled figure in his arms gently and spoke to her with words and mind. "Mhari, Mhari, you are not alone, I promise you. Trust me. I will help you find your people. Please. Please do not sorrow."

Bravely, he opened his mind to her, inviting her mind's touch in return, knowing that she could blast him witless in an instant.

A featherweight touch brushed cautiously against his inner self and suddenly his consciousness was flooded with a joyous light that realigned his world and priorities forever, as they explored each other's very essence.

"Damon." She raised awestruck, wondering eyes to him, tears melting away like early snow.

He couldn't help smiling. "I'm not half as wonderful as I seem, I have to warn you," he joked feebly.

Impossibly, the beautiful creature smiled. A smile that could make a man turn hand springs and hang by his toes from a fifth floor balcony.

Damon didn't have a strong gift for precognition, but he knew somewhere along the line he'd be receiving a new title, whether by mischance or intent--

"The Bandit King of Darkover," she giggled.

Dear Father,

I suppose you are glad that you did not remain in England now. You were right all those years ago. We have fallen on dark times. And I am indeed, as you predicted, on the wrong side. Can you blame me Father? I wanted so badly to prove myself to you. To elevate our name and standing, to make us more than we were before. To provide more for my son than you did for yours.

I apologize. That was cruel of me. I felt so slighted as a child, and it is only now that I am older, and have a son of my own, that I realize: no matter what you did, I would have felt wronged. I do not blame you any longer. We both made mistakes. I only hope that it is not too late to move past them.

If not for me, then for my son. Your grandson.

With great sincerity,
Lucius Malfoy


Dear Father,

I do not know if you have received my letters, for I have received no replies. I can only go on writing these letters in the hopes that you are listening, for there is no one else to talk to. No one else to listen. Not for me.

I must be strong for my wife and son. They cannot see me falter now, when it is most dangerous. We cannot afford to show weakness. He inhabits my home - our home. Malfoy Manor will forever be stained with the darkness of his presence. It will never be washed clean. I will never be clean.

I wander the dungeons, listening to the screams of the poor inhabitants as their torment goes on. I feel as though they echo in my soul at night when I try to sleep. I do not rest much anymore. I no longer even try, to be honest. But that does not come as much of a surprise. To you, and to me.

If I die before this gods-forsaken war is over, please take in my son. Save him. He is everything to me.

Best health,
Lucius Malfoy


Dear Father,

I hope you will be proud of me. I have chosen the winning side now. The right side. The side my son should have been on from the beginning, if what I know of him is correct. He was never like me, and for that I am thankful.

He took after you, I think. You and Mother.

He would love to meet you.

I hope he will be able to, when this is over.

Eventually.

Salute et victoria,
Your son,
Lucius Malfoy


A loud chime rang throughout the Manor, and Lucius knew that Draco's friends had finally arrived, setting off the Proximity Ward. Clutching the now smooth-topped cane in his right hand, he gripped the wood of his writing desk with his left and began to heave himself to his feet.

"No need to get up, Father." His son's voice came from the doorway of his study, and Lucius paused his movements, anticipating the next words to come. "I think it would be best if... I went to greet them myself. You can continue as you were before being interrupted." Draco nodded at the desk to make his meaning clear. Though he knew the words were coming, that didn't make them sting any less. Lucius took a deep breath and slowly lowered himself back into his chair, carefully directing his eyes towards the wood paneling of the wall opposite him instead of the look on Draco's face.

"I understand." He said in a calm voice, inwardly relieved that it didn't shake. It didn't stand up to his son's keen gaze, but nothing more was said and the door was shut behind him. Silence reigned.

"Blast it!" His cane thudded into the wall, thrown across the room with the force of his sudden rage. But the anger faded as quickly as it had come, and Lucius resisted the urge to put his head in his hands. He already regretted his rash actions, as he would have to now get his cane, and his already aching leg protested loudly at the thought. Well, that's too bloody bad, he thought to himself.

He forced himself to his feet and, after regaining his balance, began to make his way across the room. Each step was agony, fire shooting upwards from his foot to his thigh, the muscles jerking and twitching under the strain of movement. By the time he got to his cane, his breath was coming in heavy gasps and his leg felt like it was being held under the Cruciatus Curse - something he was very intimately familiar with. Bending over seemed impossible at the moment.

"How you would laugh to see me now, Father." Lucius whispered, a bitter sound escaping his lips.

"You know me better than that, boy." A gruff voice announced, and Lucius stiffened, his already pained muscles screaming.

"Father." He finally managed to say, awkwardly bending down to grab his cane while trying not to aggravate his leg any further. Gratefully leaning on his cane to take some of the weight off of his leg, he turned to face the new arrival at the door. " I didn't know you were coming." I didn't know you were alive, was left unsaid.

"I didn't want you to know." Was the reply, and Lucius struggled to breathe for a moment.

There was only one chair in the room, and he automatically extended his arm to offer the seat to his father.

"You need it more than I." It was said neutrally, without scorn, but Lucius felt shame sear into him anyway. Limping heavily, he slowly made his way back to his chair and sank down into it, his right knuckles beginning to knead his thigh in a futile attempt to ease the pain still present there.

"Why did you come, Father?" He asked, allowing his masks to fall and reveal just how tired and in pain he was. Why was his Father here now, instead of when he truly needed him? When he called out for help?

"I got your letters." A non-answer. Lucius didn't respond. What could he say to such a statement?

When it became clear that his father was not going to continue without further prompting, he sighed and leaned forward. "What did you think of them, then?" He finally asked, one hand coming up to cover his face.

"Lucius..." The hands on his shoulders startled him into looking up, his father gazing down at him solemnly.

"You needn't say anything, Father. I understand. I know I am not the son that you wanted. In fact, Draco is more like you than I ever could be." He took a deep breath, about to continue, when his father cut him off gently.

"Lucius, stop. You are my son, and I will always be very proud of you. You've grown so much since the last time I saw you. I know I made mistakes in the past, but you have overcome them admirably. You chose the right side in the end, regardless of what side you were on in the beginning."

Lucius wanted to argue. He wanted to raise his voice and demand he take it back. There were so many wrong statements, so many holes and counterarguments he could make. But for some reason, he just couldn't speak. His mouth opened, but only a small broken sound escaped his control.

His eyes widened in shock and horror, and he instantly began pulling away from his father, determined not to cry in front of him. He hadn't done that since he was a young child, and he wasn't going to start now.

"It's alright, child. There are no barriers between us." And Lucius wept bitterly into his father's chest, even as he knew his father's statement for the lie it was. Somewhere over the long years of absence and separation, they had lost the connection between them, and there was no way to get that back.

But there was still hope for his son, to know his grandfather - to make something of himself in this new world. And it was that hope that was keeping Lucius alive when his usefulness was long past.

In all of James Bond's life, beyond the megalomaniacs who sought to wipe out mankind and create a new, elite civilization in space or underwater, or the mad men with elaborate schemes of irradiating Fort Knox's supply of gold or destroying Silicon Valley, perhaps the strangest thing the legendary super spy had ever faced was the notion of a peaceful retirement.

He had never expected to grow old and live peacefully. He thrived on danger, on death. Some believed he even relished the idea of dying for his country in glory, as though he actively sought after death, but Bond was such an impersonal person, yet so deceivingly charismatic, that no one could ever know for sure. No one could ever know why such a man who so often went on missions that spanned the globe and courting any woman he pleased would be so eager to end his own life, subconscious or not. He lived a life that other men fantasized of, and yet, he'd wanted to throw it all away.

In other words, no one could ever hope to understand James Bond.

And perhaps he had liked it that way. He had never let anyone close. Not since Vesper or Tracy, or for that matter, even Kissy or their son, named after him. All that had ever happened was that he got hurt. James Bond, the cold womanizer who was said to have no heart, was just as afraid of being hurt as anyone else. Of course, there was a degree of professional intimacy that he'd shared with the people who'd taken the titles of M and Q during his time as an active field agent, some more than others, but they were by necessity. Of course, he'd be lying if he didn't miss some of them to a degree, especially the ones whom he'd served with the longest naturally, but that couldn't be helped. The first and most enduring Quartermaster he'd served with was an older man, likely in his 60s when he'd first become a 00 Agent in his mid-30s, and Bond, loath as he was to admit it, had always liked him the most; so full of wry wit and condescension, yet also capable of genuine wisdom and whimsicalness that even the cynical agent was hard-pressed to find any fault with.

In the present, the 85-year old Bond found himself musing on his past as he boredly sat outside in the garden of his flat, staring blankly at the lively garden. He felt nothing when looking over the flowerbeds and other small plants, but his caretaker seemed to enjoy planting them, so he said nothing. And besides, for some odd reason, they made him feel… nostalgic. Nostalgic of a more active time, the cherry blossoms a more lively time, and the cypresses a more deadly time. He almost felt guilty feeling a desire to have a smoke out here, which was strange in of itself. Back in his day, Bond enjoyed smoking quite a bit, almost a pack a day, and it was quite a miracle that he had never come down with any lung disease (or liver disease for that matter, given his excessive drinking back then), but he'd stopped for a small while after his Q had come ill, and the last thing the older man had said to Bond before his eventual passing was a crack at how one of these days, Bond's vices would catch up to him soon as well. As if it were a smug gesture of feeling the need to prove someone wrong, even if it were a sickly old man, that had been the moment Bond let go of such vices, even if only for a time, before he eventually relented that he could not break his habit. Though he smoked less and less in his advancing age, it was something he still indulged in. To this day, the man had wondered if Q's words were a deliberate gesture of reverse psychology or if it was simply an old friend jabbing at another.

"Friend."

That had always been such a strange term for Bond. Other than his Q, he never really had any "friends." In fact, most of the people who came the closest to resembling any sort of "friends" were his work acquaintances… mostly just his boss and secretary Moneypenny. Oh, reliable old Moneypenny. In his old age, perhaps it made sense that the one remaining "friend" the man had now was the harmless, flirtatious secretary with whom he kept at a distance, and she understood. Bond had often teased her with thoughts of secret trysts, but he knew that deep down, Moneypenny wanted something more than a naughty affair, and he could never give her what she wanted. Even now, it had been a long while since he'd even reached out and communicated with her; he feared that in the final stages of both their lives, she'd be more adamant in seeking out something from him, an old lady acting like a needy schoolgirl.

Perhaps that was why he never married. Not after Tracy, at least. Perhaps that was why he never stayed with a woman for very long at all. He left them all before they even got the chance to crave anything more from him, not just as a man, but as a human, under the guise that he would much rather save the world again, because he had to.

Bond sneered to himself as he looked to the side, away from the flowers, his withered lips pursing slightly, ignoring the wind that flew through his white hair. Where did his activities get him now? 85 years old, and all that he had to show for his extensive career in the British Royal Navy, MI6… And for the kind of man whom others believed had everything, he had nothing. Just an ordinary flat, and a woman who had to be paid to be with him.

Despite saving the world so many times over, "James Bond" was still nothing more than a name that many women resented. At the end of the day, and this was the end, he would not go down as a legendary hero. Because of the covert operations and nature of Her Majesty's Secret Service, full discretion was of the utmost importance. MI6 wasn't entirely capable of covering up every single little incident, but as far as the general public was concerned, there was never any super maniac that ever threatened to destroy mankind, any villain to further his own agenda by starting World War III, or any covert organization with the objective of counter-intelligence, terrorism, revenge, and extortion. The world was simply what it was, and Bond single-handedly maintained it to be that way, but they would never know. No one would ever know.

And as such, no one would ever know what he'd lost either. No one would ever know about the death of his one and only wife, the death of his son from another later woman, and so on. And over time, his files, his records, they would all be swept up in some dusty old folder and put away, like all the other names, all the other 00 Agents.

And he was content with that.

Or… Was he?

Bond did not think himself a man of regret. He believed himself a man who was always able to look and move forward no matter what life had thrown at him, and when life had thrown as much as it did, the man believed himself impenetrable. An immovable object. An unstoppable force. A man beyond men.

He had always placed his focus, not on what could have been or what never could have been, not on what was lost or what once was, but on what was in front of him. A man of ration and logic who did not waste his time in hypotheticals, and lived in the absolute moment. He'd never stopped to think about the macabre nature of his job, killing people as he pleased, when he'd first began his career, and he'd never stopped to think about what he'd lost along the way as he made his way up the ladder of Her Majesty's Secret Service. He merely took his losses and moved forward, even when ordinary men would break down and give up, because this work was all he had. More than a normal life, a normal family, the most important thing to him was his duty. Officially, at least. And now, his chance passed him by. James Bond would not have a legacy to carry on. He wondered, for perhaps the first time in a long time if not ever, if he should have done anything different. It was a strange thing to think of such things without deciding that he had other things to do. To be able to just get up and court a woman at his leisure instead. But now, he didn't have that distraction anymore, that excuse of being tied to someone or something else. All he could do now was remember, because he didn't have time any more to forget.

Was it too late now? Had every opportunity that opened itself up to him pass him by? It wasn't like he never had any chance to pursue a more normal life, even after the only one he'd ever pursued blew up in his face. He'd been excommunicated and temporarily revoked of his license to kill before, and each time, instead of leaving it well enough alone, he'd done something to earn MI6's trust and desire again. For God's sake, he'd conceived a son and still stuck to his duty before his own family. He'd grown up to be as old as an undergrad student, and Bond never did more than pay for the boy's tuition, not even any sort of leisurely visit, not even when his mother had died, before he'd died at the hands of an old enemy. His own son… His only son.

But he had no more room in his heart for anger, sadness, or anything like that. He was just a tired old man, and as old men oft did, was left only able to look back at it all. Reaching for a pack of cigarettes on the counter to his side, he pulled out a cigarette and placed it in his mouth, but hesitated to reach for the lighter next to the pack, instead… remembering, looking back on how it was almost… embarrassing to relive the memories, and the lack of a life he'd led. What scared off Bond from the idea of a normal, peaceful life? Was it the death drive that motivated him, hoped for him to die in the name of duty, even when that death never came, or was it a sort of misanthropic trait of his that prevented him from truly connecting with anyone else? Whatever was the case, it led to the same path either way.

However.

The path wasn't quite over yet, was it?

Yes, there was still time.

It may have taken him 85 years, but dammit, if he had nothing left to lose, nothing to cherish, then perhaps he would find something or someone to lose. Someone he would want to spend the last few years of his life with.

He closed his eyes for a brief moment, remembering his family motto, repeated over and over by his parents. Orbis non sufficit. The world is not enough. And while the family before James might have desired to stand on top of the world and conquer beyond it, he was content with the littlest happiness, the opposite of his family. He didn't need an extravagant mansion, or anything meaningless and shallow, like the sorry excuses for relationships with women he'd developed over his career. All he needed was something real. And in this retirement, he certainly had all the time in the world now for that. That was certainly enough for him.

Propping himself up from his seat, a coy smile on his face, the first true smile he'd cracked in years, he took his walking stick and opened the door behind him, leading himself inside the flat, taking the unlit cigarette out of his mouth and tossing it aside. "Ms. Maxwell?" He called out for his caretaker as he gathered a jacket from the coat rack.

"Yes, Mr. Bond?" The feminine response came from another room.

"Be a dear and fetch me the keys to the Aston Martin, won't you?" He spoke in a chipper tone that the woman found uncharacteristic of him, before continuing, "I've got an appointment to make."

"Oh, is that right? With whom?"

"One Miss Moneypenny! I think a visit is long overdue if I do say so myself."

"I see, I see. Why, I didn't know you had anyone else to spend time with, Mr. Bond! Why the sudden change of heart? And should you really be going out by yourself at your age?" The woman inquired, eventually entering the room Bond was in as she handed him his keys.

"Oh, hush, Ms. Maxwell. And if you must know, I remembered something," he spoke, taking the keys after putting on his hat, a nonchalant smile on his face, the same kind that he would have found himself adopting around a woman, "One very important thing that I never, in all my years, bothered to take note of," the old man continued, well on his way to his front porch where his car sat.

"And what's that, Mr. Bond?"

Looking back at his caretaker, halfway through the door already, Bond pause for a moment, before his smile widened ever so slightly.

"We have all the time in the world, Ms. Maxwell. We have all the time in the world. Time enough for life."

And so, he left, off to do what he'd always been afraid to do.

To live.

Link scrambled over the broken marble pillars and fell to his knees beside the fallen woman, her chest rose and fell slowly.

"Princess.." Link found the wound to her shoulder quickly, the puncture had gone straight through, breaking the bone and severing muscle leaving her arm limp and bleeding out.

Zelda's eyes rolled to focus on him "Link" she gasped "You… Have to..stop them" she said, struggling to get the words out.

"Princess I've got to get you out of here" Link said insistently, tearing his tunic to use as a bandage

"No,listen" Zelda said with earnest.

"It will take…. four to stop …… black snow from falling, one to wield the gold…. kill, one to sing … song and make a way" she paused breathing growing more ragged "one to shine ….light the path and" she gasped as Link tried his best to stop the bleeding "one to see and break the master's plan" Zelda's eyes fell closed "Promise me… find the other three" she said, struggling to focus on words.


"I promise" Link answered, he didn't know what it meant or how to find the people she talked about but he did know she was dying and he couldn't deny her last wish.

--

Ike had broader shoulders thank Link and was simply stronger. As such it fell to him to carry the slighter figured younger boy Marth. He'd taken ill the day before. Now Ike could feel his hot skin burning right through his own clothing. The boy's breathing coming in shallow wheezes.

"There see, told you there was a village" Ike said, nodding ahead down the dirt road, just beyond the thinning tree's the structures were coming into view.


"Good, we should find a place to stay and then search for a doctor to see to Marth, keeping him moving isn't good, he's in bad shape" Link replied, glancing up at Ike, even hunched over the man was taller than him.

Ike grunted his agreement and adjusted Marth again, even he grew wary. They'd been traveling a long time now, searching for a place of the beast's original appearance.

--

Later that night

Link had stayed behind at the Inn to watch over Marth while Ike went in search of a healer.


With an annoyed groan Link acknowledged the all too familiar laugh as his shadow changed and took the form of Midna. The Twili she imp seemed to find too much pleasure in bothering him.


"Haven't you noticed the strangeness of this place, can't you feel it" Midna said, Link noticed, he wasn't stupid like Midna seemed to think he was.

"Why don't you enlighten me" Link answered sarcastically.


"You are so oblivious" Midna said bluntly as ever with her little giggle, Link rolled his eyes he was getting used to her insults. It didn't matter what he said really.


"Look outside" Midna instructed. Link sighed and stood up, crossing the room to the window, he had learned that If he just did what she said she'd go away sooner. He pushed the curtains aside. What could only be described as ash fell from the darkened sky and blanketed the the village in a dismal gray shroud.

The young blond warrior watched what they called the black snow fall, he recalled it coming before the beasts.


"Recognize this" Midna questioned. He'd seen it right before the attack on Hyrule and Zelda's subsequent death. That had been a year or more ago. He wasn't keeping track anymore.


As long as nobody went outside, they'd be safe. The people in this village seemed to know that. By now, villages everywhere would know it. The beasts had appeared everywhere he'd traveled. Terrorizing the people. Nobody knew where they came from.


With a heavy sigh, he pulled the drapes closed. No need to fight them tonight, nobody was out there, wait, he paused and glanced at the bed where Marth lay.


"Ike!" was all he said as he grabbed up his sword and shield and bolted downstairs. Gorleth, the innkeeper, was barring the door as he came down.


"Keep watch on Marth" was all Link said before throwing the door open again.

"No wait!" Gorleth called in vain. Link disappeared into the darkened street.

As Link rounded the corner Midna made herself known again.


"You won't find him fast enough like this" she scoffed. With no further warning Link fell to all fours and his cry of pain changed into a howl as his mouth formed a muzzle and his hands became paws. He'd never get used to the transformation, though he was sure Midna found it amusing.


Link paused long enough to sniff the air and ground around him until he found the scent he was looking for, then, on all fours he ran. Much faster as a wolf than he was a man. Midna was right, he wouldn't have been able to find Ike in time. He'd never admit that to her though.


–


Ike knocked on yet another door in futile attempt to find a doctor. People had become so closed off since the invasion, it saddened him. He'd like to think that hard times would bring out the good in people, not the worst. Yet here he was in desperate need of a doctor and not a soul would open the door.

The shadow of the seven foot beast fell over the street freezing Ike where he stood, he could hear the ragged breathing.

Ike turned and looked up, he'd only heard the tales but never seen the creatures for himself. Now he could see why they struck fear. It stood on six long spidery legs covered in matted black hair, the feet like daggers as it stepped with a click, click, forward.

Ike stumbled back several steps, staring up into the four white eyes, transfixed as it lowered it's head, it's mouth of jagged teeth opening, green slime dripping. Ike stood unmoving. He willed himself to move, to draw his sword and slice off it's head. He was certain he could but his arms weren't listening to him. Panic gripped his normally steady heart.

Link jumped right over the top of Ike's head and onto the creature's back, breaking it's focus off of Ike and granting him use of his own limbs again. Link clawed and bit at the scaled body but couldn't break it, deflected as if made of steel.

The creature reared up, throwing up it's front three legs and tossing it's head back to throw the wolf from it's back. Unable to keep a hold of anything Link fell off and hit the ground.

Link had given Ike the time he needed to draw his golden sword, running forward, sword over his shoulder Ike yelled and thrust the blade out with all his strength cutting down two of the legs in a single blow, black blood splattering everywhere. The creature shrieked and toppled to the side, Link scrambling out of the way just in time.

Ike lifted the sword again and drove the blade downward into its middle. The creature gave a gurgling scream.

Link stared, he'd fought these things before, but no blade had been able to pierce the armored flesh before.

Ike ripped the sword out again and moved back as the creature twitched and jerked as it died in the street.

It's screams however had drawn the attention of more beasts. Ike held his ground, Link came to his side and as the creatures approached he lifted his head and howled. The beasts shrieked in response, tossing their heads and backing away, disoriented by the sound. Between the two weaknesses they now knew, perhaps they stood a slim chance of surviving the night.

"Over here!" a voice called, both their heads turned at the young woman's voice. "Hurry!" She said quickly, looking down the street as the creatures were recovering.

Ike ran for the open door, Link on his heels, the lovely blond woman in a bubblegum pink dress let them in and quickly closed and barred the door again.

"Thank you" Ike said, sheathing the blade, he'd have to clean it properly later.

"I hope you're right about them" the woman said to someone else in the room, sparing Ike a once over and Link a scowl.

Ike blinked "Huh?" he glanced around until he spotted a boy, a kid really, sitting near the window. He was watching Ike and link both with intelligent blue eyes.

"Have you ever seen anyone take one of them down before Peach?" he asked, glancing towards the disgruntled woman. She only huffed, sat by the fire and crossed her legs indignantly.

"Mind telling me what's going on here?" Ike demanded, it was more than a good Samaritan act that made her open the door, that was obvious.

"My apologies" The boy said and smiled a boyish smile that unsettled Ike.

"I was sent to help you and your friends Ike, these people have suffered greatly and need our combined set of skills to be free of this darkness" the boy explained

"How do you know who I am?" Ike went on to demand, not liking that this little boy seemed to know too much.

"I've been watching" he answered simply

"And that's not creepy" Ike frowned "Who are you?"

"My name is Pit, commander of Palatuna's forces" he smiled again "and as I said, I've come down to..." he stopped as Ike cut him off

"Come down?" Ike raised a brow

"Yes of course" Pit blinked "Oh, right" Pit stood and pulled the brown cloak from his shoulders.

Ike stared at the shining white angelic wings and took in the boys full appearance. There was no denying this boy was an angel.

"So...ok... we're supposed to take out these creatures but first things first. Can you heal?" Ike asked. Marth came first.

"Yes, I can heal your friend, we will need him too" Pit confirmed.

"Great, lets go" Ike turned towards the door.

"In the morning" Pit prompted "We won't get back to the Inn with so many of them out there"

"Right ok... Morning" Ike looked at the woman he'd called Peach, what kind of a name was that?

"Ms Peach...." Ike began

"Princess" she corrected

"Princess Peach" Ike amended "Can I crash on your couch?"

"I suppose" she sighed "So long as you swear to take back my kingdom from them after you've freed this village"

"What!?" Ike burst "Just for a lousy night on a stinking couch?"

"Ok go take your chances on the street" Peach challenged

"I think I will" Ike turned again towards the door

"Your kingdom will be saved Princess. Please, allow us stay the night" Pit spoke up

Peach hmphed and tossed her hair as she turned and walked off down the hall.

"I think that means, fine, reluctantly" Ike mused.

–

The next morning Ike woke still half hanging off the too short of a couch for his long legs he groaned and rubbed his eyes before letting his hand fall, smacking Link right in the face.

Link, already a light sleeper anyway startled awake, scrambling to his feet and reaching back for his sword which lay on the floor beside Ike's own blade. Not finding it on his back where it belonged he spun around, confused for a moment.

Ike stared up at him, blinking with just as much confusion "Link? Didn't...Didn't I leave you at the inn?" he sat up slowly.

Link lowered his arm and rolled his shoulders as he remembered where he was. Midna must have changed him back while he slept. As considerate as always.

"You did, then I came to find you when I saw the black snow falling" Link said

"Wait.." Ike looked around, not seeing the wolf who had curled up beside the couch the night before

"You... You're a...." he didn't finish, surprised at the connection he'd made.

"Yes I'm a wolf, it's a long story that I'm not getting into" Link answered "Lets get Pit up and get back to the Inn, Marth needs us" Link reminded.

"Right right, yeah" Ike got up and picked up his sword and Links, offering the other man his weapon.

Pit wasn't in the arm chair where they had left him the night before and the sound of voices lead them to the kitchen and dining area.

Link greeted the two already up and seated at the breakfast table with a nod.

Pit looked up "Oh good you're both awake, we should get moving" he stood.

Peach's eyes trailed over Link before she stood "I don't think we've met" she offered her hand to Link

"Princess Peach" she held her head a little higher.

Link hesitated, but remembered his manners, taking her hand and kissing it respectfully. Better to keep her in a good mood. "Princess" he smiled and released her hand.

"Link, Pit, come on" Ike said more impatiently from the doorway.

"I'm coming too" Peach insisted

"What no, we don't need you slowing us down" Ike shook his head

"We made a deal last night, I am going to make sure you keep your end of it" she said simply

"You're stuck with me until my kingdom is free" she went on.

Ike opened his mouth to protest but Link put up a hand to stop him from making it worse "We'll sort this out later, Marth, that's all we need to worry about right now"

"Fine" Ike relented.
–

It was a good hour before they found their way back to the inn and let themselves in through the front, Gorleth must have unbarred the door when the sun had risen and it was safe outside again.

Link remained downstairs while Ike lead Pit upstairs to see to Marth. Peach opted to stay with Link, preferring his company over Ike's.

Upstairs Gorleth sat dabbing sweat from Marths forehead with a cool damp cloth, he looked over as the door opened. "Ike, thank goodness, I was worried they'd gotten you and Link" his eyes went to the second cloaked figure, not recognizing him but assumed he was a doctor, even though he looked too young.

"No we're alright, we killed one of them and someone let us stay the night in their home and we were fortunate enough to stumble upon Pit here" he gestured to the boy.

"You killed one?" Gorleth stared in astonishment

"Yes" Ike stated simply "Then more came but Link scared them off" Ike explained in short.

"He scared them?" Gorleth blinked "I mean he's a fierce fighter I'm sure but..." he paused

"More confused I guess" Ike amended.

Pit moved past the two and came to Marths bedside. "I need to be alone with him" he said without looking at Gorleth or Ike, simply expecting to be obeyed.

Ike frowned but nodded, what other choice did they have?

Stepping outside Ike closed the door and looked down at the shorter man "He's gotten worse hasn't he?"

"He started having fever dreams around midnight" Galeth reported,walking a short ways to the end of the hall where a bench sat under a window, there he sat. "Talking in his sleep, tossing and turning, I did my best to keep the fever down" Gorleth went on "I hope this boy you've brought can work a miracle"

Ike appreciated that Gorleth didn't try to sugar coat the situation. Marth was dangerously sick, that was the simple truth.

Downstairs Link sat at one of the empty tables, Peach slid into the seat beside him. "You're very different from that dark haired man you travel with" Peach commented.

"We come from different backgrounds" Link replied, leaning back in his chair and looking over at her

"Obviously, you know the proper way to treat a lady" Peach said "He doesn't"

"He's rough around the edges, but a good man" Link assured her.

"If you say so" Peach sighed "So what brought you to this dismal little town?" Peach changed the subject.

"What brought you here?" he answered with a question.

"The black snow took my land and they overran it, myself and my people had to flee" Peach answered.

Link nodded "I think we are all here for a similar reason Princess" he frowned and looked toward the stairs where Ike had gone with Pit to see to young Marth.

"But if what Pit says is true, and our combined efforts can stop these things, then it's no coincidence we've all been driven to this same little town" he looked back at Peach

"Do you believe him?" she asked

"Yes, after last night, I do" Link answered firmly.

–

Afternoon waned into evening and still Pit remained in Marths room with the door closed. Ike, Link, Peach and Gorleth sat at a table having just finished eating their evening meal.

"Do you think I ought to check on them?" Ike asked, not for the first time

"I think you ought to leave it be Ike, Pit knows what he's doing" Link assured

"How can you know that?" Ike protested, his foot tapping anxiously

"He's an angel sent here by a goddess, what could happen?" Link asked, Ike only frowned in answer, looking up at the ceiling and folding his arms.

"Well... I'm going on up to bed, you can wake me if you need anything" Link went on when Ike was obviously in no mood to offer further conversation. Ike glanced down again at Link and nodded, at least acknowledging he'd heard and understood.

Link walked up to his room and closed the door behind him, no sooner had he done so than his shadow shifted and giggled at him.

"Yes Midna?" Link asked before she even said anything

"Don't you remember what Princess Zelda told you?" Midna said, floating a few feet away from him

"It's all a little muddled to be honest, the castle was crumbling around us in case you forgot" Link said frowning.

"Well I remember" Midna giggled

"Well tell me then" Link said impatiently

"Ask me nicely" Midna insisted

"Please will you remind me what she said" Link said, donning a more patient tone for the sake of getting the conversation over with.

"It will take four to stop the black snow from falling, one to wield the gold and kill, one to sing the song and make a way, one to shine and light the path and one to see and break the master's plan" Midna repeated the words that Link had forgotten.

"Ok well, wielding gold is obviously Ike, I guess the singing could be the howling but no idea what it means to make the way. One to shine could be Pit I mean he's an Angel and I don't know what the last one is supposed to mean" Link frowned "It would be nice for once to get simple straightforward directions"

Midna giggled again "What would be the fun in that?"

"Fun has nothing to do with it" Link said frowning "People are suffering because of this black snow and what lives in it, it's not a game Midna"

Midna smiled and her red eye glinted, to her, everything was a game. She didn't answer him though, instead she fell back into his shadow and was quiet again, leaving Link in peace to get some rest.

–

The next morning Link found that the door across from his own stood open and he heard talking in the other room. Deciding that since the door was open, it was alright to come in. As he looked in he saw Marth sitting up in bed, still pale, but up and talking with Ike, Peach and Pit.

Link coughed to announce his arrival before he walked on into the room.

"Ah Link, good you're awake" Ike smiled "we were just catching Marth up on what's been going on since he fell ill on us" he explained.

"He just finished telling me that he killed one of the creatures" Marth added "Maybe there's hope after all" he smiled.

"And you know I had the weirdest dreams but now... feels a bit too real" Marth went on, shaking his head.

"Oh yeah, what what do you mean?" Ike asked curiously.

"The four of us were traveling through a canyon and the creatures were following behind but they'd never get to close because of this bright light and if any dared to get to close there was a howling sound and then Ike would kill them." Marth explained "Then There was this man in a big room and all these gray people" he shook his head "I don't remember anymore than that"

"Wait, so you dreamed about Pit and Link being a wolf and me killing the creatures before you knew any of that stuff" Ike said, staring at the younger man.

"Yeah I that's what I mean by too real" Marth said "More than fever dreams"

"There was something someone told me that might be important in all this" Link spoke up "It will take four to stop the black snow from falling, one to wield the gold and kill, one to sing the song and make a way, one to shine and light the path and one to see and break the masters plan"

"Who told you that?" Ike asked

"Someone I trust" Link answered "But it all fits"

"There are four of us here right? Ike can kill them with his golden sword, I can scare them off with my howl which is a wolf song, Pit to light the way and obviously Marth can see whats going to happen, it's all laid out for us" Link explained.

"So assuming all this is true. We still don't know where to go, where this canyon is or anything really so we're still at square one" Ike said with a frown.


Peach coughed into her hand "I know where the canyon is" she said, all eyes turned to her

"I've been here awhile and every time the creatures come I've tried to follow them to find out where they come from" Peach explained "They always go the same way, to a gap in the mountains, I can show you" she said smugly, enjoying the surprised expressions "I'm not just a helpless princess" she chuckled.

"No you're crazy" Ike said and laughed "And I'm glad for it!" he grinned. Peach scowled.


"It's settled then. While it's still daylight lets go see where this canyon is and we can form a plan from there" Link spoke up, standing up and grabbing his sword and shield off the back of the chair he'd been sitting in.

"It's a long walk" Peach warned

--


It took most of the afternoon for them to get there, having to stop more frequently so Marth could rest, still recovering. The climb up the ridge that overlooked the canyon was the worst of it. He was panting as they reached the top of the ridge.

The sight below them was devastating. Everything was dead, the tree's blackened and brittle as if they'd been burned and the ground covered in layers of the black snow. Antlers of a fallen buck protruded out of the smooth gray ground, a mound where the body lay. Five other mounds were in close proximity to the buck.

"The poor things" Peach said in a soft voice


"There are probably a lot of dead animals down in that canyon" Ike pointed out as he looked on too. "That's not what I'm worried about, it's those black moving shapes" he pointed. Further down the canyon there were hundreds of moving black shapes , a dark haze hung over the deepest part of the canyon making it difficult to distinguish anything beyond vague shapes.


Marth felt a sharp pain in his head, images flashing into his mind like a dream, only he wasn't asleep.

Marth saw the black snow covering the town and forming into the gray people, a black haze casting it's shadow and blocking out the sun.

The black snow killing plants and animals, choking men women and children even as they tried to find shelter.

He saw flashes of the four of them fighting against the creatures but falling one by one.

The image of Links body speared by one of the creatures lay in the street, his eyes open and unseeing, laying in a pool of blood.

Marth forced the thoughts from his mind. No, he wouldn't beleive that, Link was not going to die. He wouldn't tell him what he'd seen either.

"Look, there's a road down through there" Link pointed to a thin line at the head of the canyon and disappeared into it. "Maybe Gorleth will know something about where it goes"

--

"That's Deadfall pass" Gorleth said, looking at the place they'd marked on the map. Between Link and Ike's experience in traveling they were able to find the pass on the map although it was not marked.

"Why isn't it marked?" Peach asked with a frown "There's a road to it, we saw it"

"It's not been used for years, Deadfall pass is dangerous, evil lurks there, they say a demon lives in the caves" Gorleth explained "If that's where you saw the creatures, they weren't wrong"

"Why do people say that though? What evil started there?" Marth asked "Maybe whatever is in this pass, in those caves is what started this evil that's taking over the world"


"Well, as the tale goes, the pass lead to the caves where an ancient people lived, a whole city built beneath the ground, was supposed to be a spectacular sight. The people that lived there were were small pale faced and dark hair, white eyes and they could not withstand the sun" Gorleth explained "They were friendly, traded minerals from deep in the earth for goods from the village, mostly food and clothing, things of that sort that could not be found in the ground. Then, one day, the caravan didn't come back" Gorleth frowned. "As the story goes, when they came to search for them, all they found were the wagons and dead horses with deep puncture wounds. After that, anyone out after dark, went missing."

"Ever since then there's been a strict curfew in the village, of course it's only been a superstition and a story to scare the children into bed until recent days"

Marth hesitated to speak "In the canyon….. I saw the black snow that comes at night when the creatures come" he said "only it was light, it fell from a dark haze, not a cloud exactly, thinner yet darker, enough to darken the sun. Like the haze we saw in the canyon" Marth told them.


"Whoever or whatever is behind this must be developing a way to spread the haze in broad daylight, if they or it can do that, then, there would be no hope of defeating this thing" Ike pointed out "Those things would kill everything and the black snow would wipe out crops and animals. There would be nothing left"

"Why would anyone want that?" Peach asked "If everything is dead then whoever is behind this couldn't survive either"


"Who cares why, we just need to focus on how to stop it before it happens" Ike replied shaking his head

"We already know what we must do" Pit reminded them "have you forgotten Marths dream? It showed us what to do" he said, looking around the table, at each of them in turn. When nobody spoke, Pit went on.

"We know that Links howl will clear the path for us, they don't like it, the light I can create will keep them at bay and light our path and Ike with his sword can defend us should any come close"

"And then what?" Ike asked "Go wondering into the caves and hope for the best? There could be thousands more of those things and I'm only one man, I can't kill them all if they decide to attack"


"Marth, was there anything else, any other small detail you might have missed?" Link asked, looking to the younger man.

"Just the man in the room and the gray people" Marth replied

"Maybe if you sleep, you will see more" Gorleth suggested "even if not, it is late and you all are tired and in need of rest" he pointed out.

"You're right" Link nodded "We've had a long day, let's all get some rest and sort this out tomorrow" they all silently agreed.

--


Marth came down later than the others, his dreams troubled with images. After the night he'd had and the things he had seen he had to believe in the prophecy Zelda had given before she died. He just wished he didn't have to be the one to see, he felt like he hadn't slept at all.

"You don't look so good" Ike frowned, looking up from his plate of food.

"Not sleep well?" Link guessed by the dark circles under his eyes

"Felt like I didn't sleep a wink" Marth replied, slumping into the wooden chair

"More visions?" Pit wondered

"Yes I think so" Marth answered and continued without needing further prompting from the others. "It was a big room with a strange pale light, many different doorways, tunnels, in and out. The five of us stood grouped together in the middle and the gray people with pale eyes watched, they stood with their heads falling to the sides and their arms limp like they weren't alive" Marth frowned at the memory of it "then a man spoke but the words are all confused and I can't recall them. He's not in the room but I can see him in my vision but I can't remember what he looks like just remember that I saw him and he saw me because I remember he looked at me. His eyes were pale gray" Marths brow furrowed "And that's when I woke up"


"It sounds like he knows we're watching him now" Pit said and frowned, Marth thought that already. The vision of Link had felt different, he was sure it was planted, or perhaps he just hoped that it was.

"I think we just need to go in there and get this guy" Ike said "Before he can plan anything against us"


Marth rubbed his temples, a headache coming on.Peach's body was missing it's head, her body on the cave floor, the head having rolled down to his feet. The image was so vivid and real that it made Marth want to puke.

"You said five, so I was there too?" Peach ventured to guess


"Yes" Marth answered with a frown, forcing himself not to say anything about what he'd just seen. It must not have shown on hi face.

"Great because I wasn't going to be left behind" Peach smiled

"Oh no, you're staying here, we'll have enough on our hands without having to deal with you" Ike protested at once

"Deal with me!? What's that supposed to mean?" Peach narrowed her eyes

"I mean, it's not like you can fight or be useful in this situation, we'll just be protecting you. You'll be safer if you just stay here" Ike said bluntly


"I can too fight!" Peach scoffed "You don't know a thing about me! I'm more than just a pretty face" she tossed her hair over her shoulder

"Link back me up here" Ike looked to the blond

"I do agree with Ike" Link said apologetically to the woman

"Whether or not you two like it I was in the vision, I'll be there one way or the other so just accept it" Peach said stubbornly.

"She has a valid point" Marth remarked, hoping that he was right about the planted visions.

"The future is never certain, what Marth has seen is only a possibility" Pit replied "Things can change depending on the choices that we make. Right now, we know we can be successful because we've seen it, better not change the variables." Pit reasoned "We should do exactly as Marth has seen as best as we can"

Marth stared at Pit, maybe he was seeing another possible outcome now, maybe they had changed something already. He didn't know if he should tell them though.

Ike huffed "We might have already changed a variables then" he voiced Marths worry.

"But is it worth the risk?" Pit countered, chewing on that remark for a moment.

Marth felt that sharp pain again and, there it was, another vision. Sharp and clear. Pit being torn apart, pinned down by a creature, it tore off his wings first causing an agonizing scream from the boy to pierce Marths ears.

Marth rubbed his ears and walked away from the table without a word to the others, his brow furrowed. They didn't notice.

"Fine but if she dies it's not my fault" Ike agreed grudgingly.

"Lets go then before we lose anymore daylight" Link said and stood up, the rest followed suit. The plan needed no discussion, they all knew what the vision had entailed, that was their plan.

--

As they neared the mouth of deadfall pass Link assumed his wolf form with the aid of Midna. He wouldn't be able to communicate with the others now, he'd have to trust them to lead the way and trust their choices and he'd be there to back them up. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't uneasy about this.

Ike watched in amazement as Link changed forms, he knew now that he was capable, though didn't know how, he hadn't actually seen him change forms. Marth and Peach were equally fascinated and Link just wished they would quit staring at him.

Link stepped forward, glanced back at the others and nodded before he walked farther down the pass, his ears pricked forward, alert. He inched forward one step at a time, going from brittle dry grass to the black snow that swirled like dust around his feet.

When he heard the fall of the spiked steps on either side of him he stopped and looked to either side, sure enough he had a dozen of them coming at them from both directions and a few circling behind.

"Any time now Link" Ike said, gripping hi sword in both hands. Link still waited another moment, waiting until the creatures began to raise their three front legs, then he lifted his head and howled.

The effect was deafening as the howl echoed off the canyon walls. The creatures shrieked and reeled back from him. Farther out they could see other creatures climbing up out of the canyon to escaping the sound, effectively clearing the path for the group.

Pit took his cue and stepped forward, drawing back the bow string and letting loose an arrow of light that illuminated their path. They would have to repeat the process when the creatures began to come back down into the canyon, but it was working, the path was clear for them. Still, Ike was on guard, they all were.

The trip was agonizingly slow but mouth of the cave opened up in front of them like a gaping mouth, the trail leading right into it. What looked like the remains of stone buildings were now half crumbled walls in what was once a small collection of buildings. Most liking this had been the trading post Gorleth had spoken about.

"There's no telling what we're going to find in there" Ike said before taking the first steps forward into the ruins. It was like walking into a ghost town, nothing but still silence. Link fell in step beside him while Peach and Marth followed, Pit taking up the rear, watching their backs.

So far everything had gone according to plan, but, they didn't know exactly how to get to the chamber in Marths vision. They were on their own now.


Link decided it was best for him to stay in wolf form for now, in case his howl was needed, chances were high that there would be more of those creatures inside.

Ike walked boldly forward to the entrance of the cave, they were greeted by nothing but cool air and a dim light that seemed to emanate from the cave walls themselves. It was barely enough light to see by but nothing obstructed the light, nothing lurked in the entrance.

"Here goes everything" Ike said, glancing back at the others "Ready to face the unknown?" he asked them

"As ready as we can be" Peach answered with a firm nod


"Ready" Pit answered, wielding his weapon, ready to fight if it came to it.

Marth only frowned and nodded stiffly. They were all here because of his dreams and while they had so far proven accurate, he couldn't help but feel responsible. If anything went wrong, he'd blame himself. Marth felt the pain again but this time was ready for it, he guessed what he'd see, Ike's death. Ike's twisted body broken in the street. His head turned round at an impossible angle and his arms bent in ways they shouldn't, like he'd been crumpled up as a piece of paper.

Though he'd known what he'd see, it didn't make it any less gruesome. Was he walking them all to their deaths? Would he die here too?

Ike stepped forward into the dimly illuminated cave, he touched the wall curiously with one hand, it felt like smooth stone but shimmered out in a rippled from where he touched it. It was like no magic he'd ever seen before, any of them had ever seen before.

Link looked down at his paws, noticing the same ripple effect, following it with his eyes as it traveled down the tunnel and around the corner, no doubt it would alert whoever was at the end of the tunnel that they had arrived. It was like a spiders web. No sooner had he thought this than a heavey stone fell over the entrance with a crash.

Peach yelped in surprise and latched on to Marths arm as they both stumbled forward a step. Ike caught himself on the cave wall. Link was the only one not to lose balance, but he had four paws to stand on. Nobody said anything, they didn't need to, they all knew they were in trouble and their only option was to continue forward.

The tunnel wound around, seeming to turn right back on itself as it snaked deeper and deeper like a worm hole

The tunnel eventually opened up into a larger chamber. They could see more tunnels going off in other directions, all of them looked identical to the one they stood in. It would be easy to get turned around. It didn't matter though, the way they had come was blocked. They would have to find another way out.

Link transformed back to his human state, Midna no longer seeing a need for him to be a wolf. "I don't see any of those gray people you described Marth" Link noted as he ventured towards the middle of the chamber, his feet sending rippling signals.

Marth followed him "This is the chamber from my dream, right down to the number of tunnels…" Ike, Pit and Peach followed. Pits light footfalls barely made a ripple at all.

Link watched as each of them took a step, they all seemed to have their own unique ripple. Ikes was like thick deep waves. Peach's were more rounded out and close together While marth seemed to only cause a single ring of rippling light each time he took a step.

Experimentally. Link took a step and watched his ripples, they were irregular, some come together, another step, farther apart. He frowned. Maybe he confused the magic because he had two forms. Still, it was distinct in its irregularity.

Just as Pit, the last of the group, stepped into the middle of the chamber there was a woosh of air that came from all the tunnels at once and whirled around them, bringing with it black snow that blocked their sight and threatened to choke their lungs.

The whirlwind only lasted mere seconds but it was long enough. When it cleared they found themselves faced with the pale gray people all around them. They hadn't made a sound and their heads fell to one side or the other, resting on their shoulders, a few of them fell forward onto their chests.

Link noticed their feet didn't touch the ground, suspended in the air like they hung from strings.

Peach took a step back from the gray people, sending a wide arching ripple. The movement triggered action, the heads of the gray people came up snapping to attention. They rushed from all sides, converging on Peache's position. Each of them drawing a sword to cut her down.

Marth flew to her defense clashing blades and driving the attacker back with a quick succession of forward attacks, though none of his strikes met flesh, only metal as the deft gray swordsmen blocked every blow.

Link blocked Marths left side clashing blades with one and his shield deflecting that of another. With two attackers Link had to be fast, deflecting and blocking but the constant onslaught of attacks not giving him an opening.

To Marths right Ike swung out wide and hacked two clean in half. They made no sound as they fell and crumbled into piles of black snow. These people were nothing more than lifeless puppets. "They're nothing but ash!" Ike said as he hacked the head off another

Marth heard Ike but did not take his eyes off his attackers, like Link, he was quickly being overwhelmed by the sure number baring down on him. Ike seemed to be the only one able to get any blows and that was due in part for the reach of his broad sword.

If they were only ash, black snow, it wouldn't take much force for them to fall apart. At least that was what Marth was hoping for. "Link, your spin attack, do it now!" Marth said and hoped the other man would trust him.

Link didn't hesitate, he trusted his friend to have some sort of plan. He ducked quickly under the next attack, under the arms of the gray attackers. It left Marth's left side open as well a way in at Peach who thus far had been protected on all sides.

Link rose up again and spun, swinging his sword out with a cry, hacking into the swarm of gray bodies. He expected to meet resistance but his blade sliced through the bodies like brittle sticks of charcoal.

Like the ones Ike had felled, they crumbled into piles of snow, the swords clattering to the ground, the only things real about them.

With the new found weakness, Pit quickly utilized it. Connecting the handles of his two blades he made a doubled edged sword. He spun it around in front of him like a glowing sawblade as he moved forward and carved a path through the gray puppets.

What had at one moment seemed like the end of their journey was now only a step closer to finding the puppet master.

As the last puppet fell into a pile of ash, Link and Pit were left panting, their spinning attacks were crucial in the 'slaughter' if it could be called that.

Whatever magic that kept the walls and floor glowing, dimmed slowly before going out entirely though they were not left in utter darkness.

Pit glowed, not brightly, but enough to see by.

If the lights were out, Link wondered if the floor and walls would still ripple and somehow tell the illusive puppet master where they were.

"Come on, lets try this way" Peach suggested, walking to one of the tunnels.

"Why that one?" Ike asked.

"Why not? It's just as likely as any of the others" she pointed out. Ike only grunted, not voicing his agreement but not arguing with her either.

Pit's light seemed to be brighter in the confined space of the tunnel, yet still swallowed by the intensity of the darkness ahead and behind. It felt like walking into open space, not knowing whether or not there was going to be ground there until you took another step forward. At the same time, the air was stale and unmoving. An odd combination of claustrophobia and vast stretches of nothing.

The staleness of the air began to feel a little cleaner, a little fresher, if not a way out, at least a vent. Then, ahead of them, a light, pale yellow light. Steady and unmoving, sunlight, not a torchlight.

As the group drew closer to the light they came out into the ruins of an underground city built into the very walls, carved by expert hands.Stone bridges crossed over a still crystal lake to yet more homes and buildings chiseled from the strange luminescent silvery stone.

The architecture was a mixture of Gothic high archways and something of an elvish elegance rather than thick supports they were thin and delicate, the entryways tall and narrow. The top half of the archways looked like it might of once had glass rather than being open but it was now gone.

Looking either direction, the city stretched on through a vast ravine until it turned and they couldn't see it anymore. It was hard to guess how far it might go on.

To call the city ruins wasn't exactly the right word as the stone structures were nearly perfectly preserved but left abandoned. The only sign of ageing was the absence of life.

"look, over there" peach pointed across one of the bridges to the far wall of the chamber. There they count see a hole had broken into the wall letting in the yellow sunlight. So taken where they with the city they had forgotten about the light. It didn't occur to them it had been nothing but darkness until they stepped out onto the walkway.

"come on, let's get over there and get out of here" Ike said and took a step further out.

"We can't go yet, we haven't found the puppet master" Pit objected "we came here to stop him, we can't just leave, we may never get back in"

"we can't stay either" Ike said "that room, where we fought all those puppet things, was probably a crossroads and all those tunnels probably lead to different parts of this same city" Ike reasoned "We could be days searching it for this puppet master and we didn't bring supplies for that" he pointed out.

"we need to cut our losses and try again another day" Ike went on "I don't like it anymore than you but we have to be reasonable"

"Pit's right,we can't leave" Peach said

"You have absolutely no say" Ike stated with a frown "You miss Peach shouldn't even be here, you're just in the way as I said you would be, you've contributed nothing"

"It's Princess Peach!" Peach corrected him with a frown, holding her head high "And I do have a say, I am as involved as the rest of you. Marth saw me in that vision of his remember" she argued snootily, folding her arms and narrowing her eyes.

"Screw the visions! All they've done is gotten us into a mess!" Ike all but shouted, though he was clearly agitated.

"Ike, I agree with you, coming here was a mistake" Marth said calmly "My visions were nothing but dreams, we made connections we wanted to connect and saw what we wanted to see"he didn't believe they were only dreams, not fully. Too much of what had happened had been exactly as he'd seen it

"We should leave this place" how was that supposed to help break the puppet masters plan? He supposed if he saw what he was planing and they put a stop it but so far they hadn't done that, he had no control over what he saw.

Pit looked bewildered as he listened to them "But…I was sent here to help you all, surely the Goddess cannot be wrong also"

"Nobody is saying she is" Link said "We make a good team and we learned a great deal from this place. Perhaps that as the purpose of our coming here, not to defeat the puppet master now but to learn" Link suggested.

"Ike makes a valid point, we don't have the means to continue a search for days on end, it is better to leave while we can and return later. We can return by this hole we have found and begin again where we've left off" Link went on.

The suggestion seemed to appease everyone, it made sense and satisfied everyone's concerns.

"I'll go first" Ike spoke up again, his voice calm once more "I'm probably the heaviest of us all, if that narrow bridge can hold my weight, it should be safe for all of you" he reasoned. Nobody argued with him. If he fell it would be a plunge into the lake below, Link would be ready to dive in after him.

Ike took a few cautious steps out onto the bridge, the solid stone seemed to hold, not so much as shifting under his weight. A few more steps, still nothing. Reaching the middle of the bridge he stopped and looked over the edge. It was a long way down to that crystal lake. While the water would cushion his fall, if the bridge collapsed, the falling stones would probably drag him down, possibly crush his skull before he even hit the water. At the very least he would get very badly bruised up.

Taking a step back to the middle of the narrow bridge Ike hopped up and down, daring the bridge to collapse.Nothing happened. "I think we're good" Ike said, looking back at the group.

Marth wasn't paying attention, his mind was occupied. Maybe if he could just see what the puppet master looked like, remember the face. He closed his eyes, recalling the visions in perfection recollection.

The image came slowly into view, not a man, a small woman, pale faced, dark haired and pale eyes.
"Get out of my head!" the master's voice had become female and enraged. He'd gotten in. he could see her, sitting in a building.

He focused his mind on the location, where was she, if he could find her, he could stop her. There it was.

Marth opened his eyes just in time to see one of the creatures launch itself from behind one of the buildings, colliding with the bridge. Already standing on the edge, Ike tumbled over the side and plummeted into the water below, the six legged creature falling right behind him.

More of the monsters were crawling out of the buildings like disturbed termites. Marth stood frozen. If he stayed, their deaths would be inevitable, if he left, he might just be able to stop her and save their lives. He didn't have time to explain that.

Marth turned and ran. Peach ran after him "Marth wait!"

Link dove into the water after Ike, abandoning his weapons on the ground, he'd have enough weight with Ike and his sword to deal with.

Pit rose into the air, flapping his wings he closed his eyes and summoned every bit of energy he had. His wings and he himself began to glow brightly, reflecting off the stones themselves.

The creatures backed off giving Link the time he needed to help drag Ike back to the surface of the water.


---

There, seated in the middle of the room was the woman, small and delicate. Her head was bowed, black hair spilling around her face.

Marth saw the ripples he made go to her and there stop like they were absorbed. So they were sending her signals, visible vibrations through the stone itself.

Gray puppets began to form, picking up stones to use as weapons. Marth didn't have time for this! He started to pull his blade when Peach kicked one with surprising force and whacked another with her umbrella. "I got this Marth! I take care of that one" Marth blinked, but nodded and turned his attention back to the woman.

"So you've come to stop me" her voice spoke in his mind, Peach heard nothing. Marth felt a sharp pain in his head, he grimaced and pushed it back. She was more experienced but he didn't have time to learn.

Marth walked forward and sat cross legged in front of her, she lifted her head and blinked sightless white eyes. "I've come to listen, Oomora" Marth responded, knowing her name without ever hearing it.

"Tell me what my kind has done to deserve destruction" Marth went on.

Oomora did not answer him right away, seeming to consider whether or not she should humor him.

"The sun dwellers killed my people, I am the last, doomed to live forever alone in these caves, to wander alone." Oomora said.

"How did we kill your people?" he asked.

"The sun dwellers brought illness to my people, an illness that spread so fast and our healers could not cure. The sundwellers refused to help" she said "Now I bring a pestilence to your people, now you may watch your people die! And be able to do nothing" Marth could guess at the plague Oomora spoke of, her people were not the only ones to suffer.

"You made these creatures?" Marth asked, choosing his questions carefully

" Yes I made them, they began as thoughts, nightmares I had as a child, they represented the illness that took my people, that took my family" Oomora explained "Then they became real"

"Through psychic power you created something from nothing to kill a race of people" Marth summarized "And those gray puppet people, they are the beginnings of another of your creations?"

"They will be my people" she said "When the earth is mine, they will be mine and I will be alone no more!" she declared, almost laughing.

"You want to play god" Marth stated

"I want to be free" Oomora corrected her voice cracked "I don't want to be alone, I want to be heard, I want to be seen"tears rolled down her pale cheeks. Marth didn't know how long she'd been alone but it had broken her. He could see and feel it.

"Oomora" Marth spoke carefully "The illness that took your people, it took many of ours too, there is no cure for it, that is why the sun dwellers did not help. It was not because they didn't want to, they could not and they feared it" Marth tried to explain "you don't have to destroy our people now to be free" he went on. "Stop this and I will take you from here, find you a place to live with others where there is no sun to hurt you" Marth offered her.

"Lies!" Oomora shouted so abruptly and loudly that Marth jumped.

"Oomora please.." Marth began again but she cut him off

"Our pleas did nothing for us, yours will do nothing for you" Oomora answered. She was too focused on her goal and so set in her belief that she could not hear reason.

"Marth hurry!" Peach worried voice cut in. The fight outside must be going badly, he was running out of time. He understood now though. A simple misunderstanding had brought this evil to the world. He felt Oomora's pain through their connection. She felt truly alone. More powerfully, he was overrun with anger and fear. Perhaps with more time he could reason with her, but there was no time.

"I understand Oomora" Marth said softly. "I'm truly very sorry" he said before he lifted the knife and pierced it through her heart. Her eyes went wide before he fell forward, Marth caught her in his arms, holding the delicate little woman. "You're not alone" Marth said aloud, cradling her as she let out her final breath. It was over. Without her psychic power to control the creatures and create the monsters, they would cease to exist. The world could begin to mend.

Phil Connors had told Rita once of all the things that he wished he could do. All of the things he had left unchecked and never thought he would be able to do. A checklist of 7 items, things that people take for granted. He had to laugh, these were all things that people took for granted. The sun rising, growing facial hair, all these minors things that you wouldn't think twice about when days passed for you.

But for those 10.5 years that it was always February 2nd, these were the things he thought about in his mind. These little things he wouldn't be able to do. What stung was that she would never remember these things as the day looped, but he did. He remembered his own list and though, it seemed like he wasn't listening, he had heard all the things she wanted to do. All of them.

As he watched the sun rise for the first time in forever, he felt lucky that she was sitting next to him. More than lucky, he felt blessed to be seeing the sun rise with her. " Check," he muttered under his breath. He was startled when his phone rang. He hadn't had had signal in so long that he forgot what it sounded like.

" Phil, your phone is ringing," Rita informed him. He fumbled with it for a moment. Now, how did he answer a call again? He stared at the phone and saw the green sliding phone icon. Ahh, yes, that was how he did it.

He slid the phone icon across the screen. " Hello, this is Phil Connors. Who may this be speaking?" He asked. He listened and was shocked. It was the network executive, they loved his Groundhog Day forecast and after so many asks, they were finally giving him the raise he had asked for. The one that he thought he deserved way before coming here. " Thank you…. I'm grateful," he said, hanging up the phone.

Rita looked over at him. " Who was it Phil?" She asked.

He smiled at her. " It was the network executive…. They gave me a raise," he said. He was at a loss of words, within the span of February 3rd, two of the things he had wanted for his whole time in the loop had come true within the span of the hour. He looked over at her and smiled. " So,now that we have seen the sun rise, where do you want to go Rita? We got the day off still, do you want to go to the weather museum?" He asked.

Rita chuckled. " I feel like I have seen it a thousand times, Phil. How about we go to the diner and get some sticky buns for me and doughnuts for you?" She asked.

Phil smiled. " I would love nothing more than to get some sticky buns and doughnuts with you. Maybe I can get some coffee while we are there," he said to her.

Rita nodded back and the duo headed off to Gobbler's Knob. When they arrived, Doris was brewing a fresh pot of coffee. Phil looked over at her. " Doris, can we get a dozen doughnuts and a plate of sticky buns and some coffee over here when you get a chance?" He asked.

Doris smiled and nodded. " Of course, Phil. It seems you had a good night with Miss Rita. Did she-?"

Phil offered a smile. " She spent the night with me." He didn't go further than that.

" Phil." Rita was scowling. God, he loved it when she scowled.

" It's a small town, there is no use trying to hide it honestly. Besides, it's not like we did anything. I fell asleep pretty early," he replied, knowing full well that she didn't want them to know about the other thing.

Doris came over and poured the coffee into the cup. When he took a sip, it tasted good. " Doris, this is really good, why does it taste so good today?" He asked.

Doris smiled. " Well, Phil, we got our new shipment of fresh ground coffee beans this morning. The only one should have been replaced way before the celebration, but with the blizzard, it got delayed."

That was a third thing that he had completed from his check list. Three things in less than two hours. He was at a loss for words. He looked over at Rita. " Are you enjoying your sticky bun?" He asked.

Rita had already eaten half of it and looked over at Phil when she swallowed it. " I loved it so far, but then again, these sticky buns are the best."

Phil smiled back. " I can't disagree with you, the sticky buns are delicious, though, I prefer doughnuts since there are so many varieties. You got your vanilla, your boston cremes, your chocolate- your-," Rita cut him off by kissing him.

Just like last time, Phil was surprised by this and shut up. " Are you going to do that every time I go off on a tangent?" He asked.

Rita smirked. " Don't you wish you know," she simply replied.

Phil wasn't sure if he should be excited or unnerved by this and simply nodded, finishing the food he had ordered and the coffee he had ordered. " So, where do you want to go now?"

Rita looked over at Phil. " I think I do want to go to the weather museum, maybe you can teach me a thing or two."

Phil nodded and they headed off to the weather museum. It was beautiful in all the right ways and he talked about the weather with her for hours. He loved talking about the weather and especially with her. He knew when she got too bored or want him to shut up with a kiss.

" I guess we should pack for Pittsburgh or you should at least, I am pretty much wearing the only outfit I brought with me." Phil really didn't want to leave her, but knew that it was healthier than spending every waking moment with her, no matter how much he wanted too.

" I'll see you in the van, Phil. It feels so good to be going back home, despite it being one day, it felt like a lifetime in Punxsutawney."

Phil chuckled at Rita's comment. " Yeah, it sure did. Or at least 10.5 years." He walked over to the van and climbed in to see Larry.

" Well, it's been a long time since we had to leave Punxsutawney, but it's nice to be going back home. Larry, did you get the nice blonde's phone number?" He asked.

Larry looked at him and blinked. " I mean- yeah- we are going to text and talk and stuff…." he replied.

Phil only felt bad about one thing, he had never gotten Ned's phone number, but he was sure he could get it from the phone book back home. It felt so good to be going back home. When Rita finally arrived with her bag, he couldn't help but smile. " Well, we are off then."

He was silent throughout the car ride, watching them past familiar intersections and exits, though it had been a long time since he had seen them. Another thing he hadn't seen in a long time was traffic and damn was there a lot of it.

The cars were packed neck to neck, each moving about a inch or two every ten minutes. It was honestly refreshing for the first hour, but after three hours of barely moving, Phil was not doing so well. He wanted to be home…. He wanted to be anywhere but in this never-ending traffic. He was also starving, but he refused to speak. He knew that he would become his old self if he spoke any words in this fit of anger.

" Phil, I don't think we are going anywhere, there's a nice Chinese food place at the next exit, so maybe you want to stop and eat while we wait for this traffic to clear up," she said, looking over at him.

Phil took a deep breath. " That would be nice, I haven't had Chinese food in a long time, it would be nice to have some," he replied. Phil watched as Larry got off at the next exit. It was a dinky Chinese place, one that old Phil would have whined about, but he would take it. Larry went in and ordered food. He was quiet, looking over at Rita occasionally. It was a good twenty minutes of awkward silence before Larry came back with the food. He took it and ate it slowly and deliberately, savoring each and every bite that entered his mouth. It was bad- but it was bad in all the right ways. He took a deep breath and decided to go to sleep for now, who knows when they would get home?

A few hours later, he could feel someone shaking him awake. " Phil, wake up. We're at your house- goddamn, Phil wake up." Even in his half- asleep state, he could tell that this was Rita shaking him awake.

Phil slowly opened his eyes. " Ugh, what time is it?" He asked, still not quite awake.

" 3AM on February 4th, it was some really bad traffic heading home, now as your producer, I got to make sure you get in your house, even at this ungodly hour, so move it, I'm tired, irritable and really want to get home myself." Phil nodded and got out of the van. He knew which house was his and he pulled his keys out. He however had a slight problem, he had seven keys and only one opened the front door. He could tell his car key easily. He also could tell the key that opened his back door as he had labelled it. However, the other five keys he wasn't so sure about.

He tried the first key, but it didn't work. It was much too small. He tried the second key, but it was much too large. He tried the third key, but it wouldn't turn. He tried the fourth key, it was much too fat to move. He finally put in the fifth key and turned it left. It didn't open. He turned it right and the door opened. " Sorry about it, I was too tired to remember what key was mine. You can go home now, Rita. Larry can drive-," he turned back to the van. Larry had fallen asleep at the wheel, the van was thankfully parked and off.

" Or you could stay here- I don't think Larry is awake enough to drive anyone." Phil turned to her and she looked at him.

" Well, it's not very professional, but it beats sleeping in the van. I'll take it. I'll sleep on the couch."

Phil crossed his arms. " No, you are not sleeping on the couch, you can take my bed, I'll sleep on the couch. You are a guest in my house and I'm not letting any guest sleep on the couch."

Rita frowned. " I'm not taking your bed, Phil. It seems wrong."

Phil sighed. " Will it make you feel better if I also sleep in the bed with you?" He asked.

Rita looked at him. " Fine, but we get Larry up and let him take the couch. Sleeping in the van is not comfortable and you and I both know it. Also, no funny business. We're going to lie in the same bed together- but we are NOT doing what we did last night before we slept."

Phil smiled. " That's fine with me. I'm too tired for it anyway." Phil got Larry awake and got him some blankets and stuff for the couch.

" Thanks Phil. Are you sure you are well?" Larry asked.

Phil nodded. " I'm fine, Larry." Phil got into the shower and changed into his night wear. Rita was still wearing her clothes from yesterday and he lied on the other side. He fell back asleep, tired still from his long days. When he awoke again in the morning, Rita was resting her head against his shoulder. He didn't want to wake her and he let her sleep. It had been a long day yesterday and they did have one more free day. As he laid in his bed, he wondered how he had gotten so lucky. He guessed it was a good thing that he had learned so much in the loop. He took a piece of paper and made a checklist of items he wanted to complete both for himself and Rita.

The check list

1- See the sun (Check)

2- Grow a beard

3- See the ocean

4- Have chinese food (Check)

5- Have a decent cup of coffee (Check)

6- Get a raise (Check)

7- Have a birthday

8- Have a kid.

9- Get Married

10- Help Rita learn how to dance

11- Buy Rita some books to read

12- Learn to climb with Rita

13- Learn to paint with Rita

14- Have Rita learn Piano

For the items already done, he put a check next to it. He decided to go back to sleep for now.

There was the thing about time, Minutes give way to hours which give way to days which give way to weeks. Before Phil Connors could even realize it, it was already the first day of spring and the air was filled with pollen and love. Over the few weeks, he got back into his routine, though slowly. A piece of it each day. He spent time teaching Rita Piano and going to dance lessons with her and even rock climbing and painting, he bought her books. She was really good at everything she did. It was no time flat that almost everything on her checklist was done.

He barely shaved and some little stubble over a few days gave way to a very nice looking beard. Though Rita complained it, he knew that she liked it. She still kissed him.

Before he knew it, it was his birthday. He was 44, an age that he thought he would never see. He celebrated and looked over at Rita who had gotten noticeably fatter in the past few months. He hadn't put two and two together yet until she pulled him aside at his party. " Phil, do you think you could be a father?" She asked.

Phil was at a loss for words. " I mean yes, I think I could be. Why do you ask?" He asked.

Rita looked dumbfounded by this. " You don't know?" She asked. He looked over at her and the pieces fell in place.

" You're pregnant. When did you find out? How long has it been? " Phil's mind raced with a thousand different questions.

" I am five months along. I found out in April, do you remember the day I came into work and was throwing up? I took the test then, and well, here we are." Phil scratched his beard thoughtfully.

" So, have you been to an ultrasound?" He asked.

Rita laughed. " On an associate producer's salary, no. I barely get by on the bills that I have to pay each month. I can't pay for it."

Phil looked over at her. " I'll pay for it then, I'll pay for it and the doctor visits."

Rita looked over at him. " Phil- no you can't. I can't-."

Phil cut her off. " This is my kid too, I get a say in it and I want to make sure that everything is okay. I want to make sure that you are okay. We need to get you on the right medicine and everything. Five months is pretty far along." He gave her the look, the one that basically said there was no winning this argument.

Rita looked over at him. " Okay, Phil, we can do this. Speaking of which, how come you went with a beach party?"

Phil looked at her. " Promise not to laugh and I will tell you." Rita nodded. " I wanted to see the ocean, I know that it sounds childish, but I wanted to see it. It's beautiful this time of year. I wanted to see it."

Rita smiled. " That's nice, Phil."

" Move in with me," Phil said soundly and spontaneously.

" What?" Rita asked.

" You are having my kid, move in with me. I don't want you to worry about anything during this time."

" Phil- I can't just- it is too sudden. We aren't even dating… and it seems like a big step. I'm not sure if I am ready-,"

Phil looked at her. " It's the least I can do, I would propose, but I don't want to come across as too forward and make you think I am doing it for the kid only. I love you, Rita. I have loved you for the past few months, but I didn't want to overstep my bounds. I know that you want to keep things professional and I respect it, but I can't let you do this on your own now that I know."

Rita was silent. " Okay, I'll move in with you."

Phil smiled. As the birthday passed, he watched the months fly by. He felt like he was stumbling forward, being jostled from behind by time. As he watched life pass before me, he was happy that he had chose as he did. When the baby finally came, he was right by her side, no matter how much she wanted him to not be there. He squeezed her hand… and when the doctor fainted, he helped to deliver the baby.

" When did you-," Rita asked.

" Don't ask, just push," Phil simply replied. Within hours of labor, a healthy baby boy was born.

" What should we name him?" She asked.

" Stephen Ned Connors- Hanson," he said.

" Phil, you do know the hyphen goes the other way if we were going to get married?" She asked.

" But it would go that way if I put the hyphen in my name," he replied back to her.

" Are you saying that you would take my last name and add it to your own?" She asked.

" Yes, that is exactly what I am saying, it would take some time to get the paperwork, but it is entirely possible for me to do that. So, as I was saying, how does Stephen Ned Connors- Hanson sound?" He asked.

Rita smiled. " I think it sounds wonderful, Phil."

Phil nodded, as he watched the nurse take away Stephen in her arms. " I am going to stay here for the night," he replied. He fell asleep in the hospital room.

As time progresses, Phil learned that it was good. He saw the firsts, the first steps, the first words, the first tears, the first everything of their son.

Before he knew it, it was Rita's fortieth birthday. At this point, they had been together for three and a half years. Though for him, it was truly fourteen years, but for her, it had only been one day. He was nervous, as he waited for her at the diner. He had never proposed- well seriously proposed before. He had asked Nancy to marry him during the loop, but that was because he knew he wouldn't have to go through with him.

Though he would have never admitted, before the loop, Phil Connors had a fear of commitment, of another person loving him and be loved in returned. He looked over as Rita arrived.

As the moments of the dinner passed, he got more and more nervous. When the moment finally came, he nearly slurred his words. " Rita Hanson, would you marry me?" He asked.

Rita smiled. " Yes, Phil, I will marry you." She replied.

Over time, they planned the wedding and the big day came on their son's fifth birthday. He adorably brought them the rings and they sealed their union with a kiss. Nancy caught the bouquet when Rita tossed it.

As Phil danced with Rita on the first dance of the night, he couldn't help but think about how perfect it. How wonderful that he had completed his check list. " I love you, Rita." He kissed her and got lost in the moment.

He knew that if he had his time again, he would do it all the same.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Fandoms: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Characters: Original Female Character(s)
Additional Tags: HHHH, local witch is bad at math, more at 7, a tragedy in at least seventeen and three halves parts, canon characters are for suckers, oc haven
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2017-09-21 Words: 1647 Chapters: 1/1 Hits: 1344

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Summary:

---

read the story and find out?? damn millennials and their tl;drs. it'll take you like five minutes to power through it. i guess a bit more? who cares. buckle up and grab a glass of water,. stay hydrated. start a noise band. say farewell to your family. whatever your final rites are. maybe a bit excessive but you do you, y'know?

enjoy, nerds

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The pumpkin was a surprisingly comfortable seat, especially once Harley Helene had magicked away the stem. Sure, it meant the pumpkin would never grow any larger, but the behemoth was already half as tall as Harley herself, who often and adamantly claimed she was tall despite her obviously being rather average in the vertical department.

She sat there upon her murdered pumpkin - juggling parchment and quills and a wooden board repurposed as a portable desk - wrapped up against the cold. Fingerless gloves kept palms warm and fingers blue, several cloaks were layered one on top of the other, and a green and silver scarf was wound up to just beneath her eyes. Even during the summer, the Scottish Highlands weren't renowned for their warmth. This late into fall, it was the kind of place 60-somethings fled from as fast as their walkers would take them.

Harley, who was far from 60-something, suffered through.

As did her close friend Mina Hart. Though not much suffering was actually to be seen in the other girl as she cavorted around the pumpkins. Occasionally she flashed Harley a smile that was as straight as her nose; which was to say it was crooked beyond most sins. Harley would give one back, woefully blind to the fact that her scarf hid her friendly efforts.

Overlooking them both was a pumpkin headed scarecrow, who defied all expectations by being mundane in every sense of the word. Never a jig jigged beneath a cold full moon, or a song sung to enraptured audience. In a world of talking paintings and screaming plants, his plainness was a source of much shame. If he had been capable of shame, that is.

Several crows rested upon him, defiant.

Also defiant was the solution to the Arithmancy question scrawled onto parchment and held to Harley's board with ever more blue fingers. Kicking her heels against her seat's rind, Harley groaned in dismay. "Less than an hour, Mina!" she exclaimed, "less than that, and then it's time to give this in to Professor Vector!"

"Better finish it," Mina helpfully answered, inspecting a nearby roach.

"Thanks, but here's a counter proposal. You finish it. Put that Ravenclaw brain of yours to good use."

Mina looked up, eyes sparking with amusement. "I don't think we agree on what 'good use' means here."

"It means helping me by any means necessary," Harley sighed and buried her face in the parchment. It smelled like dust. "Tutoring, cheating, helping me flee the country-"

"Studying?"

Harley gave a muffled scream of horror. "Last time I tried that I actually learned things! Never again, I tell you."

"Fair, fair," Mina allowed, nodding sagely. "Well then, you've done what you can. And in the end, that's the thought that counts."

"If my thoughts could count I wouldn't be in this mess," Harley complained.
Had the nearby scarecrow been less of a coward and more of a sentient being, he might've spoken up at that moment to point out that numbers had a terribly straightforward nomenclature and that he was sure Harley and her thoughts could successfully count up to some absurdly large figure given enough time. But being neither of either, he kept his worthless insights to himself. Another crow settled down on his arm.

Raising her head from her boredom board, Harley gave one last dejected sigh before writing down whatever numbers felt right without any regard given to their accuracy; by accident stumbling into the true secret of adept arithmancers: instinct. In fact, later that day, her work would be held up in front of the rest of the class as an example to aspire to. She'd earn Slytherin house a full twenty points, which was ultimately meaningless due to Dumbledore's aggressive tendency to rig the whole affair at the last second anyway.

Pulling out her wand, Harley gave a whisk of the wrist and a twirl of the wand and utterly failed to make her board and parchment fold up and disappear into her pocket. Then continued to do so for several more moments before Mina took pity and did it for her.

"Thanks," Harley said, and held out her hand for the impossibly small cube. But instead of handing it over, Mina pocketed it was a coy grin and plopped herself down on Harley's lap.

She tapped conspiratorially at her ear. "First, what's the magic word?"

"Please?" asked Harley, only to get a shake of the head in return. Leaning closer, she tried again, quieter. "Abacadabra?"

Snickering, Mina took one of Harley's blue fingered hands and began warming it between her own. "Not quite."

With her other hand, Harley began surreptitiously pointing her wand at Mina's back. "Fiscal responsibility?"

Mina settled in against Harley, making herself comfortable. "That's two words, idiot."

Now Harley's voice was almost a whisper, the only thing separating her lips from Mina's ear her musty scarf. "Rictusempra, idiot," she said, and cast a tickling charm.

Immediately a torrent of shocked laughter burst out from Mina, and in her convulsions brought the both of them backwards to the ground. They rolled deeper into the pumpkin patch together, hidden from the rest of the world as Mina expertly failed to regain her composure and Harley clumsily succeeded in regaining her tiny board and parchment.

Eventually their tumbling came to a jarring stop against the base of the hapless scarecrow, the wooden post that passed for his spine smacking into their ribs. The crows littering him seemed unfazed by the impact. "Stupid scarecrow," Mina laughed, the tickling charm wearing off enough for words to be a realistic possibility.

"Stupid scarecrow can't even scare crows," Harley agreed, tucking away her reclaimed shrunken homework. Above, the scarecrow remained unfazed. One of the few perks of being a definitely non magical scarecrow was that sticks and stones may have formed his bones but words had never hurt him. One of the crows began pecking at the small pumpkin that formed his head.

Emboldened by the privacy offered by the massive pumpkins - pumpkins that were still nearly a full decade shy of the pumpkin-spice-latte-driven horror that would later devastate their population - Harley squirmed her icicle reminiscent hands back into Mina's logic defying warm ones and gave the Ravenclaw a quick kiss.

Mina returned the favor. "Hey," she said softly.

"Mm." Harley made a contented sound before rolling onto her back to stare into the sky; steel-gray clouds skittering across pale blue, all framed with the orange of autumn. "Times like these…"

"Make you appreciate just how flawless I truly am?" Mina teased, scratching leaves and twigs out of her hair.

"Make these past few years bearable." The sharpness of the sky began to grind its way into Harley's eyes, but she didn't close them or turn away. "The archaic classes. My step-mom making me take all those muggle classes during my summers. The bloody arses that make up most of my House. And especially the past few years! What with all the shit that's been happening here.

"Dementors last year, students being petrified the year before that, and the troll the year before that." Harley finally closed her eyes, and began furiously trying to rub the spots out of them. The stress and dread that she kept buried somewhere deep in her gut dug their claws into her veins and began to take hold of her heart. As a seventh year student, she had only this last year to soldier through. But most of the year still lurked ahead, and it seemed the years had only been getting worse as time went on.

"It always gets better eventually," Mina said, her usual playfulness and coyness abated for the moment as she cut through Harley's thoughts. "In the long term. Life, that is."

"Maybe," Harley said, unconvinced.

"Hey. Hey," at Mina's insistent tone, Harley opened her eyes and turned to look at her. "Listen, it will get better, okay? Things can only go wrong for so long. And hey, there's the rest of the Triwizard tournament to look forward to, right? If those dragons last week went off without anyone getting hurt, then I'm confident we can relax and just enjoy the show."

"Finish our last year off with a bang and pop?"

"Exactly."

"Here's to hoping then." The two of them lapsed into silence, shoulder to shoulder, hand in hand, watching the sky go past.

"Hey Harley?" Mina asked into the quiet after a few moments.

"Yeah?"

Mina propped herself up on one elbow. "How long did you say until your next class?"

"A little less than an hour."

Mina gave her crooked mess of a grin, showing once more that her playfulness could be briefly suppressed but never quelled. "Perfect," she said, and fell down upon Harley. Had he been capable of manners, the scarecrow might've turned away to offer them some privacy, had he only been capable of turning. The crows simply didn't care.

The speaker blared out Helghast propaganda to pump up those men who served under Colonel Radec himself.


"Brothers, Sisters, I envy you. To fight the enemy of our nation, to face the people who deny us even our right to breathe we all aspire to. Our flag means nothing if not held aloft in the hands of the mighty and it is now you who carries it. If the leg goes lame, it must be removed, if the kidney fails, it must be cut out. The body doesn't live for the individual organs. Sometimes for the body to survive, parts of it must be lost. A good soldier knows this. I promise you this. Through your sacrifice, Helghan will survive.


During the war against the ISA scum, the Helghast donned gas masks and blood red "eyes" that would perhaps scare the enemy as they battled.


They fought for Helghan...their flag and their own right to survive.


Were they really the bad guys if they were just fighting for their right to survive? Was Visari right in his words to fight and die for their planet?


In a filthy night on the Helghast planet, in the gassy, dirty area. A Helghan man waved a simple flag of red and black while wearing his signature gas mask and red shining eyes.


He chanted "HELGHAN FOREVER!"

Every night seemed like the coldest to me in the last one week, but I really felt tonight had to be the worst one yet. The sky was filled with many clouds, so many that the light from the moon couldn't be seen at all. It was snowing; I knew this much because the wind was throwing it into my face rather painfully. I couldn't tell where the wind was blowing from; no matter which way I turned I kept getting a face full of snow. Huddling in one place wasn't keeping me warm and I had no way to make a fire; even if I did the wind would have blown it out. So in order not to freeze to death I stayed on my feet, walking and tripping, one arm wrapped around me while the other reached out in front of me, feeling around so I wouldn't crash into anything.

It was hard not to cry as I struggled forward. The weather wasn't supposed to be an issue, not when my mother and father were still alive. We had been travelling by horse carriage, heading for the city of Whiterun. Father would have been working in the fields along with Mother while I stayed home and took care of things there. We would have arrived a week ago if only our carriage hadn't been attacked by vampires. I still don't know how I managed to escape, it was all such a blur; all I recall was Father grabbing me and dumping me on the already scared horse that immediately raced off. I must have fallen off because I simply remember waking up on the ground, dirt in my mouth, my whole body aching as if a giant had stomped on me.

The winds blew with a fury, forcing me to stumble back. Maybe it would have been better if I have died then. How could I survive any longer without any warmth?

Father, Mother… give me a sign, please?

It wasn't long before I heard something other than the wind, something that terrified me even more. Growls from either side of me… the wind must have muffled the sound. The growls became harsh barking as I felt one snap at me.

"G-get away!" I flailed my arms uselessly in the direction of the bark, trying to knock away what I now guessed was a wolf. As I expected my actions did nothing but anger the animal. Another snap and it had my hand in its mouth. I screamed as I felt the sharp teeth bite down, not just breaking through skin and flesh but breaking my bones as well.

I was going to die. That was all that was going through my mind at this point. It wouldn't be long before the other wolf attacked as well and ripped me to shreds-

It was as if thunder boomed throughout the land, causing me to forget the pain momentarily. My senses were disrupted by the loud sound and the same was for the wolves; with their better sense of hearing they were probably in more pain than I was. However that wasn't what I noticed at all. Instead my tear glazed eyes widened as I felt the wind die down along with the disappearing snow. The winter moon could be seen, not really bright but comforting anyway.

From the corner of my eyes I saw something bright, causing me to turn around. Sitting atop a horse was a man in dark armour, his drawn sword seeming to be lit with fire. I ducked and stumbled backward; was he going to hurt me too? Now that the wind and snow had died down, the pain in my hand had returned and I could feel my entire arm shaking. Looking to ground, I saw blood stained snow leading straight to me.

"Please-" Even as I spoke the man dismounted his horse though he didn't look my way at all. That was a relief at least. For a moment I watched as he headed toward the wolf, fiery sword held before him. Then I realized this was my chance; I had to get to the horse and flee. There was no telling who this person was and if he was simply going to kill me next.

As I raced towards the horse, I could hear the sound of the wolf's dying yelp, spurring me to move even faster. However, when I reached I realized that the horse was simply too large to climb without help and likewise there was no way I could pull myself up with only one good hand!

Then came the sound of the second wolf dying and the crunch of the snow closing in on me; I had failed. I stood frozen in place, expecting some sort of punishment for trying to steal this man's horse.

"Not a smart thing to do lass, stealing my horse right after I save you." I felt a heavy hand on my shoulder and couldn't help but quiver like a leaf. "Luckily for you I don't get angry about stuff like that." I guess that meant the person wasn't going to kill me? I bit down on my lip to keep myself from crying out in pain. "For now, take this potion, should fix your hand right up."

There was definitely surprise on my face when I turned around, seeing the small bottle of potion being offered to me. Who was this person? A warrior or an alchemist? Or maybe a mage… I mean, he had to be the one who had cleared away the wind and the snow, right?

"Th-thank you…" I brought the bottle to my mouth, grabbing the cork with my teeth to pull it out. Letting it fall to the ground, I turned my attention to the actual contents of the bottle, unsure.

"Go on lass," the man insisted. "Drink before you get any worse. If you're worried that's poison, you should know I could've easily just let you die by riding away."

That was true I guess. I brought the bottle to my lips and downed the contents. It tasted vile and disgusting but no more than what my mother would insist I drink when I'd fall ill. It took a few moments but soon enough I could feel the pain ebbing away.

"Who are you?" I asked now that I was thinking a little clearly.

"Bjorn," the man replied. His voice was rough enough to sound bearlike, though unlike most of the men here in the north, he seemed smaller than usual. "Or Little Bear, that's what my friends like to call me." He scratched at what I guessed was a beard before looking out at the frozen brambly path I'd been walking aimlessly on. "Where were you headed, lass?"

"Whiterun… Father and Mother were going to work at one of the farms there." The expression on his face shifted from curiosity to realization.

"They're gone now, huh. What got them?"

"Vampires…" My unhurt hand clenched tightly, mouth drawn as I tried to keep myself from crying in front of a stranger.

"I'm sorry lass." He sounded sympathetic enough. "In these times of war, it's hard to meet anyone who hasn't dealt with loss." He sighed some, shuffling in the snow before nodding toward the horse. "Whiterun's where I'm headed, and with luck we should reach in the morning."

I nodded though I wasn't even sure if I should head that way now. Without Mother and Father around, what would I even do there? There was almost no point in making the journey except that it would keep me from dying on the road to nowhere.

"Up you get then." And just like that I found myself on the horse I had failed to steal. Bjorn joined not a moment later, taking hold of the reins and leading the large mare he called Buttercup to a cobblestone road not too far from the now dead wolves.

It was uncomfortable at first, sitting so close to a strange man, but the warmth the closeness provided was very welcome. As time passed I could no longer feel any pain in my hand, and when I ventured to look down at it I realized it was completely healed. That reminded me of the question that had crossed my mind earlier.

"Who… no, what are you?" I asked hesitantly. "Are you a… warrior or something?"

I was answered with a laugh before Bjorn decided to speak. "Truthfully don't know how to answer that question, lass. Just months ago I was a horse thief… and now? Seems the gods decided to punish me not by executing me but by shoving a whole lot of responsibility on my shoulders."

I guess my confusion wasn't hard to miss because Bjorn continued speaking. "I was headed to the executioner's block in Helgen and ended up living to tell the tale because of something worst-"

"Dragon," I interrupted. Even I had heard the story of what had happened in the town known as Helgen. I had never seen one, but Father had mentioned how a dragon had attacked the town and how we couldn't put off moving anymore; it was safer to live in a proper city with walls rather than the small village we called home.

Bjorn was quiet for a moment. "Yes, dragons. That one was just the first, there're plenty more. All the stories you might've heard won't really tell you how it really feels when a dragon's blasting fire at you. Dragons can be killed though so that's what I do… it's a long story."

There were many questions that lingered in my mind but it seemed obvious to me the man would rather not speak more on the topic. Truth be told I was tired as well; now that I was safe, sleep was coming at me with a vengeance, forcing my eyes to close.

---

I'm not sure how long I slept and I didn't have a chance to ask when I woke up. "Up lass," was what I heard accompanying the rough shake to my shoulder.

"Uhh… wha-" The sound of a deafening roar cut through whatever I was going to say. Any thoughts of sleep vanished as I looked up at the lightening sky just in time to see a huge shape fly overhead. "That's-"

"A dragon," Bjorn confirmed grimly. He didn't seem to waste any time in dismounting the horse. "Run, Buttercup!"

"Wait, what about-" But the mare had already raced forward and away from the Bjorn, stopping only when she was a safe distance away, taking shelter under an overhang of the looming mountains. In the distance I could see towering walls; was that Whiterun? I wasn't sure but I didn't spend much time looking in that direction, not with the sight of that dragon landing on the ground, sending out tremors that I could feel so far away.

"He's going to die… he's going to die…" My hands were on my face and I was peeking through my fingers to watch, feeling horribly guilty that I couldn't do anything to help. It was hard to tell where Bjorn even was, and I could feel the hollow in my stomach widening when I saw the blast of fire leave the dragon's maw. "No…"

It was hard to watch someone else die… and even worse then that was just like with my parents I was too weak to do anything but run. Even if I tried to help the most I'd be was a second's worth of distraction before burning to a crisp-

Once more I heard that thundering sound I had when I'd been attacked by the wolf, and to my shock I saw the dragon jerk back as if it had just been hit! That's when I saw a man attacking the dragon, the flaming sword bright in the distance. The dragon was retaliating but it seemed that Bjorn had the upper hand, forcing the dragon to take flight.

"No way…" Could he actually win this fight? It was hard to imagine. My parents couldn't take care of a couple of vampires. A dragon had to be much more difficult that that, right?

Even as the dragon landed the thunderous sound reverberated yet again. I watched as the flaming sword attacked the raging beast until it finally collapsed to the ground, no longer moving.

"He did it! He- he really did it!" The horse didn't seem to want to move but I couldn't contain myself. I slid off Buttercup and ran the distance, slowing down only when I was near Bjorn and the dragon's corpse. He seemed to be casting a spell on himself, perhaps one of healing? It was hard for me to tell since I'd only heard of mages and never seen one personally.

"Bjorn?" I called hesitantly.

"I'm fine, just a little winded." He smiled reassuringly. With the sun now rising I could finally see how the man actually looked, short but well muscled behind his dark armour, with pale blond hair escaping from under his helmet. His light blue eyes looked rather tired.

"What is that?" I was unable to quell my question any longer. "You did it last night and you did it twice now against the dragon. Loud, like thunder…"

"I was shouting," was the reply

"You shout thunder?" I asked incredulously.

What followed was a lengthy silence that was broken by a hearty laugh. "I think I like that," he muttered to himself before looking at me. "I am able to use Thu'um or Dragon Shouts. They are words of power and they are from the language of dragons."

"So you were shouting at the dragon?" I blinked at the man, a little confused.

"I guess you could say that," Bjorn replied, still chuckling. "My sword helped as well."

I chewed on a finger before asking a rather stupid question. "Could… I do that too? Shout like thunder?"

Bjorn rubbed at his bearded chin before speaking. "Maybe… after a whole lot of training, something I can't provide. I don't even know why I have the power I do, except that I have it."

"I just… I want to be stronger!" I knew I sounded silly but it was the truth. "When my parents died and even now... all I could do was run away and watch like a coward!" My eyes were beginning to burn from trying to stop the tears that were beginning to form. I stared at the ground as if the blue flowers growing by my feet were something special.

"I understand how you feel lass." Looking at Bjorn, a frown creased my forehead. How could he? He just… shouted a dragon to death! "Before I was blessed with this power, I was nothing more than scum." He shook his head, seeming sheepish.

"Then… then what about using a sword?" I asked. It seemed childish, begging a man I just met to teach me, but how many more people like him would I ever meet? What exactly did I have to lose? "You can teach me that much, right?"

"I could… but I won't." He let out a sigh. "My apologies, lass. I'm a wanderer, an adventurer; wolves and dragons are not the only scary bits I deal with on a daily basis. I can't drag you around into dangerous situations like that."

"Oh…" That was that, I guessed. It was a fool's wish anyway; why would anyone want someone who wasn't able to defend themselves as a travelling companion? Even so I still felt sad... in fact I wanted to cry again. Hastily I changed the subject, turning and pointing toward the large walls I had seen before. "Is that Whiterun?"

"Indeed it is, lass. Let's get going, I could use a rest…" His voice trailed; I looked his way and saw he was smiling. "Come with me lass- what is your name?"

"Senri," I replied, wondering what was with the change in his demeanour.

"Senri, come with me. I know a place where you can learn with much better teachers than myself- in fact, most of what I learned was from there."

Was he simply making this up? I couldn't tell, but there was no reason for me to deny his invitation. "Well… alright then?"

---

It didn't take long for us to finally walk through the gates of Whiterun after leaving Buttercup by the stables. The city was as grand as Father had made it seem, with two story houses, shops of different sorts, and all the way at the top of the city the Jarl's longhouse, Dragonsreach. Father had mentioned that it had been named in honour of a hero who'd imprisoned a dragon in the palace. It had been hard to imagine dragons back when he told those stories. Not anymore though.

"We're not going there," Bjorn told me; I guess he saw me eyeing the palace. "No… we're going somewhere even greater."

What could be greater than where the Jarl lived?

The answer was clear when I found myself standing before an old, large building. It wasn't as big as Dragonsreach but it seemed really important, as if it had seen a whole lot of the world. Father would always say something about if walls could talk; I bet if they could this building would tell many tales.

"Jorrvaskr, the grand mead hall, headquarter to the Companions." There was a look of pride in Bjorn's eyes as he spoke. "You must know who they are?"

"Um… I think so…"

"The Companions are a group of honourable warriors who come to the aid of the people," he supplied. "They accepted me, gave me a home, became my brothers and sisters, taught me what I know… and now they will do the same for you."

"Why would they accept me? Why would they think I'm worthy of entering?" I couldn't think of anyone wanting a country bumpkin in such an important place.

"Because I say so." Bjorn gripped my shoulder. "I say you are worthy. If I was accepted then there's no reason for me to doubt you'd be." His blue eyes bore into mine. "You want to be stronger, you want to protect yourself? Well, here is a place that can help you with just that. Not only will you learn to protect yourself but to protect the ones you care about as well. Here you will no longer be alone, your brothers and sisters will have your back, you can stay here as long as you wish-"

"Will I be strong enough to fight a dragon?" I asked curiously, warming up to the idea. "Even if I can't shout like thunder?"

I was expecting the answer to be no; instead I received a nod and chuckle. "Yes. And when you are, we can go hunt dragons… and vampires together."

I thought of my deceased parents and how their lives were so unfairly cut short. My breath quickened before I slowly let it out. I couldn't bring them back, but I would able to keep others from feeling the same loss I still was... maybe that was good enough?

"I want to join then." Saying that, I opened the door, ready for a life unlike any I had imagined for myself.
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