carol vs. manousos is so important to me because i think carol Needs manousos. see carol knows something is very, very wrong with what the hivemind is doing but every time she tries to express it to the other survivors she does it through highlighting a lack of individualismâ which is an inherently american concept, one that the other survivors who are very much Not american, none of them, see as selfish and bull-headed. they see CAROL as selfish and bull-headed and entirely unsympathetic. when laxmi is apalled at carol not even asking the hivemind what it feels like, this solidifies to her and to a lot of the other survivors that carol is this wealthy, american white woman that wants to change things that are in essence fine in order to go back to her previous, incredibly privileged lifestyle. this is further cemented by the fact that she only asked to meet with those who spoke english.
externally, carol looks awful. she looks like a karen. she is so, so well written that a lot of the people online iâve seen hate her because of this. but carol is visceral, and real, and her wife died like two weeks ago, and now everyone on the planet knows her biggest secret and wants her to become just like them. and she canât express how that is wrong without relying on this concept of american individualism because she IS so quintessentially american despite also being a lesbian desperately afraid of the conversion camp that is the hivemind.
now letâs talk about manousos. a man from paraguay. he sees the hivemind as colonizersâ this perspective is key. because they ARE. the hivemind is everyone, and therefore it is no one, this entirely new entity that has taken over the entire world and claims to provide for those who already live there, but are literally starving every human body as we speak. when he says nothing belongs to you, everything you have is stolen, you donât belong hereâ this comes from deep inside manousos. his active vitriol towards the hivemind is so much more intense than carolâs because he sees it for what it truly is, something carol is so so close to seeing but againâ she is tragically american. manousos is not, like carol is quintessentially american manousos is quintessentially latin-american, from a country in latin america that has a very strong indigenous culture (he speaks some guarani as well) and thus his determination to not allow them any intervention with his life or journey feels so intrinsic and so well done.
when manousos arrives, he is going to flip the narrative on its head and (hopefully) bring carolâs eye back to the prize. because ultimately carolâs head is in the right place, but her privilege and her heart are beginning to blind her (not entirely, but the hivemind has employed a new evermore sinister form of manipulation). and together they are going to save the world. methinks
I think the biggest difference between Carol and Manousos is that Carol knows when to give up and accept help. They're both strong-willed and see the hivemind as hostile (especially at first) and want to save the world. But in Carol's case when she feels she can't go on, she accepts help and thus deepening the trust and lessening the hostility (which I don't think is a bad thing). I think Manousos's case is an example of what happens when you don't do that: you die (unless saved against your will). So while Manousos is possibly more resourceful at surviving (he made it accross half a continent), Carol is the better survivor.
While watching, I was personally thinking something more along the lines of maybe Carol doesn't know how to live without a certain level of comfort. She needs certain privileges and benefits to live, and even if they come from something bad like the hivemind, she is willing to accept them. It reminds me of our current situation, where many people disagree with boycotting companies like Starbucks because it would be inconvenient.
While we have someone like Manousos, his principles don't allow him to accept something stolen; for him, hivemind is clearly a colonizing force, and he could never be a part of it or benefit from it. And I thought about his situation being more like, that's what happens when you try to fight an oppressive system alone; you can only go so far, because in the end we always need a community, others fighting for the same thing.
It's very interesting to observe and think about; their meeting will be something quite extraordinary.
This work is mine and I do not give consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted without my permission. I am sharing chapters as I work on this story but it is copyrighted material that I plan to rework and publish when completed.
story tags: modern-fantasy mashup, werewolves, witches, monsters, romance, learning to trust, hurt/comfort, blood, violence, explicit sex, explicit language
The earlier parts can be found under the tag or over on patreon. <3
BITE TO BRUISE - CHAPTER 33.
Ever wound his arms around her, gently catching her up when she was in the kitchen waiting for the kettle to boil.
They hadnât spoken much since the woods. She had come home with him. They had showered, slept, and woken together. Somewhere in the night, she had let her glamour fall away. Ever said nothing. He was never sure if it was a conscious choice or something she simply forgot to hold up.
She was smaller in this form, his body curling lower to wrap around hers, and his face pressed into the dark of her hair. It felt the same against his face and smelled like magic and deep woodsâjust like when it was blond.
He could feel the mountain of things she wanted to say but hadnât quite decided how. He certainly wasnât going to rush her. Ever would happily wait a lifetime for her to put her words right, so long as he could wait with her.
Her fingers touched his arm, dancing across his skin and dragging the ripples of magic. Ever didnât think she felt it the way he did. It was her own skin, after all, even if it was stained black by magic from fingertips to knuckles.
âEverâŠâ the witch started, her voice raw.
He opened his eyes, forehead against the back of her hair, listening to her heart beat and her breath drag deep. She had been so close to crossing that river yesterdayâto throwing herself into an unknown that no one had ever returned from. He had meant what heâd said. He would follow her if she went in. He had seen her in those icy waters, like the cold hadnât touched her. If anyone could survive what was in that forest, it was his witch.
A howl cut through the air outside, making the shadows of his own fenrir roll off his shoulders and snarl.
Invasion.
As if she understood that howl, his witch turned out of his arms and with no effort at all, drew her glamour over herself. She grew a head taller, broader and thicker, brushing past his side on her way to the front of the house.
She stopped by the door, leaning against the wall like she could see through it but didnât dare to put her face in the window. âTheyâre hereâŠâ
He knew, because his pack knew, gathering and spreading out in the valley around the house, between the road and the woods. âIâll take care of it,â Ever said, brushing a lock of now blond hair off her shoulder before grabbing the doorknob and letting a gust of winter air into the house.
He stepped outside and closed the door.
The black cars had come up that long road from Blood Country but stopped just in sight, lining the side of the road while one continued on alone.
Ever crossed the porch and stood on the top step, waiting.
Sky walked closer, the shape of a giant fenrir cutting through the thick snow on his way. He stopped, far enough away to make anyone who hadnât fought a fenrir think they were safely out of distance.
The car pulled right up to the house and stopped, engine idling.
Ever waited. He kept his gaze on the car while other eyes in his pack watched the cars, estimating numbers and silently discussing strategy and odds. Was this the arm Blackwell had brought to start her war and take their land? Could they chase them off?
He felt Sunny slipping through the door between their territories, followed by a handful more into the house.
The door to the backseat opened and Primrose stepped out of the car. The wind pulled at the delicate gold adornments of Primroseâs vest and slacks, tugging the thin material of his dress shirt tight to his skin before whipping it the other way. He flashed Ever a smile like he was expected and lifted a hand, the gesture asking for a moment. He had not dressed for winter but he did not seem to notice the cold either, turning and reaching into the car with that same hand that had asked for patience.
He guided a human out, she wobbled and winced at the daylight. She had an ornate box curled in one arm against her narrow chest and leaned against the side of the car when he closed the door, giving her nowhere to go. It seemed that the car was all that held her up, legs shaking on bare feet in the snow. But she wasnât shivering. She didnât appear to be cold either, her cheeks flushed and her breath curling hot off her chapped lips.
The stink of pending death radiated off of her along with that sickly heat.
The packs growled. Everâs lip curled. Everything inside of him raged to get her away from themâaway from their land and their families and their town.
The human spoil did not hear the snarls, her head tipping back to roll her unfocused gaze across the afternoon sky. A thick, bloody tear pearled at the corner of her eye.
Blood sickness. She was a timebomb. The second she died, riding her last breath, the illness would escape into the wind. âWhat have you done?â
Primrose took a few steps away from her, toward Ever. âNothing, yet. And nothing you canât fix with a miracle. I hear youâre a wolf with access to miracles.â
Ever snapped his gaze back to the shade. A jolt shot along his spine, and he recognized it, at first vaguely and then with dawning horror. It was fear. He felt afraid for the first time since he was a kid because this shade had a reckoning on his tongue and was prepared to speak it.
âDo you know why wolves and witches donât coexist, boy?â
Ever stared back at the other man, wondering if he too could feel the presence of the witch on the other side of the door, just inside his home, listening to every word.
âIt wasnât always the way of things. There was a time, long before your father and his father, when the fae were plentiful. Never enough to be their own kingdom but enough not to be thought extinct by most. They made the mistake of thinking we were their friends. Many of the midnights had witches in their courts, as did the sunrisen. But the witches thought they were our equals. They thought they were exempt from the lines we drew around our bloodlines and our races. They thought they could come and go freely.â
Ever hung on his words, heart pounding, but gaze flicking back to that sickly human against the side of the car. Every rattling breath she dragged could be her last and bring a plague to his land.
âMy midnight never kept a witch in her court, but I saw what happened. We all did. Everyone knows how possessive immortals can be. As far as the courts were concerned, those witches belonged to them. But what could they do to keep them when bribery and emotional manipulation finally failed? Witches are dangerous.â
The human whined like she was trying to hum along to something only she heard. It was painful to watch and worse to feel how much he just wanted to shove her back into that car and close the door. âWhat did they do?â he asked, suspecting.
Primrose rolled a tongue against one fang, as though considering whether or not to share that next secret. âI donât remember which court started the culling⊠They moved quickly, before the witches could suspect.â
âThey killed all of them?â Ever wasnât surprised. The shades must have had access to the magical bloodlines at that point, before they were spread out and so watered down that a true witch was beyond rare.
âItâs not a bloodline,â Prim said, watching him with those cunning eyes and either hearing his thoughts or divining them. He had Everâs full attention. âThe bloodlines you know are watered down and still rippling with magic, showing themselves in seers and scryers, crafters of the echo of that great unfathomable power, but no witch is born to the bloodline. The witches that have walked this world have never been the descendants of witches who walked before them. They are eternal in their own right. The midnights had figured it out already, or else they would not have risked the culling.
When a witch dies, their soul settles back into the soil and cultivates a new form. It can take a year or twenty, but eventually they are born again from the mud and roots, returned to the world and to our waiting hands. In the time before, they would be there waiting for one another, to guide them back into life and remind them of who they were and who they are. But the culling was all and when they woke again, it was only we who waited and we who told them who they were.â Primâs smile twitched, uncontrollably cruel. âWe donât mind lying when it gets us what we want⊠But it never really made them more loyal to us. Eventually they strayed. Eventually the magic wielders always did as they pleased.â Primroseâs smile tightened, painfully honest in how much he seemed to like that and grieve it for them. âThey stopped returning. Almost all of them. They just⊠never came up from the ground.â
But not Wren. Wren was here now. Wren was hunted by Baron. Why?
âIt has been my rare pleasure to match deals in truths. They are the most efficient way to find terms, but not always accessible or suitable to trade. But thisâŠâ He grinned, looking around as if to take in the whole valley, the gathering pack, the house behind Ever, and the woods beyond. He nodded. âI think we can find terms, Hayes. I think we can finish this today and be done with one another.â
Ever curled a lip, flash fang. âIs that why youâve come with an army and a plague?â
Primroseâs gaze snapped back to his, never more snakelike than in that moment. Ever wouldnât have been the least bit surprised if a slender, forked tongue had flicked past the shadeâs lips. âBlackwell does not want your land and will not be buying it from you,â he announced. âWe come with truths today, boy. All the truth and no time to waste,â he said like it pleased him. âWe want your service in bringing something out of the woods and in return for that service, we will leave when it is done and not bother you again.â
Ever frowned. They wanted something in the woods to come out? Why? And what? âThereâs nothing but monsters in those trees.â
Primrose shrugged. âOf course, just leaving isnât payment enough for your help, lord of fur and tooth. We will keep the knowledge of your witch to ourselves,â he said in that deep, smooth voice. Ever felt a fist grip his heart. âWe will not tell Baron where to find her, and,â those eyes were on his eyes, boring deep. âWe will answer the question no one else canâWhy canât wolves and witches coexist? Why is she a curse to you? Why is Baron hunting her?â
The pause after those words seemed painfully long. The whole valley waited, even those long out of earshot. Primrose waited and Ever could hear Wrenâs heart beat faster through the door behind his back. Would she run again? He had seen how terrified she was of Baron, but he knew the answer to those questions would be too much to resist. He wanted to know but she needed to know.
The doorknob turned.
Primrose grinned wider and Ever growled and pushed a step forward just to drive the shade another step back when she opened the door and stepped out onto the porch.
They could take this deal, but he couldnât trust what theyâd get from it or that the leeches would really leave his land and not come back. His gaze flicked out toward the line of cars on the road and the dozens of blood creatures standing outside them, waiting and watching.
His fenrir were just as still in the valley, staring right back. The slightest signal would set them all off and they would melt the snow with violence and bloodshed.
Bellamy stood beside him, the wind pulling at her blond hair and one gloved hand twisting in the pendants and chains she wore. She sneered at Primrose like she wasnât scared and it was so convincing that Ever could have believed it if he didnât know her so well.
Ever wasnât sure if Prim believed her show or not, but he did believe that strange ripple of relief and sadness on the old shadeâs face when he beheld her. His smile dimmed to something scant and polite. âWren, is it?â He tipped his head and rolled a hand at his side in an ancient gesture. âWe have never met, fae creature. I apologize for my tactics and for your fate. Even by our ideals, Kish has gone too far with you. Itâs a waste. If any other house had claim to you, youâd be prized and pampered.â
Ever ground his teeth but Bellamy spoke. âPampered until I tried to leave or didnât do as I was told, right?â
Primroseâs smile grew and he gave a coy shrug. âWe are all as we were made to be. The dogs are wild and proud just as the shades are possessive and dramatic.â
âAnd me?â
Prim sighed, a twinge of that sadness returning and Ever couldnât fight the terrible feeling that this man was looking at her like the last of her kind. âYou are free, despite all the imaginings and efforts of others, because the world is as you make it and your kind have never been able to see themselves broken. Baron has tried many times, yes, but never for long, and never truly succeeded. He can take your tongue before it curses him and your eyes before they spite him. He can take your hands to stop the weaving of your magic and trap you in that skin for a time, but he has never been able to break you.â
A growl rippled through the wolves in the valley as the words struck, not as a nasty threat or idea, but as a truth of something that had happened and would happen again.
âIt is madness to hold a grudge for so long against someone who doesnât even remember the crime,â Primrose continued, conceding as though they were on the same side.
Ever tasted blood on his teeth and realized it was his own, jaw clenched too tightly.
He shivered at the feeling of a conversation without words taking place along that psychic thread that bound his pack. No one outside of fenrir ever really understood how their packs worked. They saw one voice and one lead with their mortal eyes and tasted the word alpha, turning it over and over in their fantasies. But that figure was chosen. Ever was in charge because his pack put him there and together they had a thousand debates and arguments spoken and felt across that connective spirit.
There was no debate this time.
There was no disagreement.
He shivered and the pack as a whole relaxed. They were of one mind now and that mind said to make the deal, give Blackwell what she wants. Let her come in close, let her look at the woods. That mind said to tell Baron where to find the witch too because that mind, his pack, his heart, said they were going to kill every damn shade until the whole of Blood Country understoodâthe witch was going nowhere. The fenrir would give up nothing.
This was fun, though I'm mad I couldn't use all the gifs I wanted.
Elena stood on Wickery Bridge and peered down to the river below. As she examined the water, she saw it all: her parentsâ car skidding off the road, plummeting into the depths. The water filling the car. Her father pounding the window. Her mother unconscious. The panic. The fear. The acceptance. The darkness. And then she woke up in the hospital. Her parents were recovering in different rooms on the same floor. Itâd been a close call. Too close.Â
           She didnât tell anyone about it, not her parents or her brother, not her aunt Jenna, not Caroline, not even Bonnie, but every day since that night, sheâd come to the bridge. Sheâd spent a lot of summer mornings just standing here, sometimes sitting against the railing, writing in her diary, before meeting up with whoever or doing whatever. Like a ritual. She couldnât really articulate why she did it. She couldnât really articulate how she felt since that night either. Everyone expected that she was fine because she was fine, her parents were fine, everything was fine.
Maybe a week, a month of being jittery -- that was to be anticipated -- but now, it was time to go back to the way things were, the way she was. The only difference sheâd really seen with her parents was that her dad had started spending more time with Jeremy, as if trying to make up for the possibility of lost time. But she and her mom were back to their routine. So she was back to hers.
Suddenly -- a caw. The noise disrupted her thoughts. A crow flew by and perched beside her. Elena startled. A crow on the bridge where she nearly died, how fitting. It didnât leave. It hopped closer to her.  Â
âGo away.âÂ
It started to flap around her. What was its problem? âShoo!â Stubborn damn bird. She turned to bat it away only to find the crow gone and a dark-haired man standing behind her. Her hand flew to her chest.
âOops,â he said, his blue eyes glinting. âDidnât mean to scare you.âÂ
Elena didnât answer right away. âI just didnât know anyone else was here.âÂ
He was grinning at her. Elena didnât know how she felt about it. It was playful but there was something else there to it, something that made her a bit uneasy, like she should be ready to run at a momentâs notice. She blinked at him. Wait a minuteâŠÂ
âI know you,â she said, taking in the leather jacket, the blue eyes, the smile that in a second could turn to a leer. Â
Theyâd met months before. Four months before to be exact. On the night of the crash. Before everything changed. Heâd come out of nowhere, just like he did now, and he thought she was someone else, someone called ⊠what was that name, itâd been a âkâ name or a âcâ nameâŠ
           âI do have a pretty unforgettable face,â he said now.Â
           Elena nodded. âD..DaâŠDamien, right?â
           He paused, something sharp and painful flitted over his face and then it was gone. âDamon,â he corrected.Â
           Right. That was right.
âYou should be careful out here, all alone.â He gestured around the empty bridge.Â
           Not to be rude or anything, Damon, but itâs kind of creepy that youâre out here in the middle of nowhere.Â
           Youâre one to talk.Â
Pieces of the conversation theyâd had in May were coming back to her as he said, âBeen catching up on the local news.âÂ
Elena swallowed hard. âYeah, itâs weird, you know, because all my life, thereâs never been a single animal attack and now suddenly itâs like bears and wolves and coyotes.âÂ
âOh my!âÂ
Elena stared at him.Â
âWizard of Oz.âÂ
âFunny,â she said.
Why did she feel so tense? Why did it feel like heâd cornered her somehow?
When sheâd met him that night, sheâd felt ⊠well, itâd been weird, but itâd been somewhat intriguing. Heâd been somewhat intriguing. You want what everybody wantsâŠÂ
âAnimal controlâs been out so itâll all die down soon,â she said. Â Â Â Â Â Â
âUnless it isnât animals.âÂ
Elena narrowed her eyes, trying to sus him out. âWhy? You know something everyone else doesnât?â
           âOh, I know a lot more than âsomethingâ.âÂ
She shivered. It didnât feel ⊠her heart rate was steadily picking up. Why was something so simple so nerve-wracking? So stressful? She should walk away but she didnât feel released from the conversation. He seemed to sense her trepidation because he took a step back and loosened his demeanour, like he was trying to appear non-threatening. Heâd done that the last time theyâd met too.
           âSo what are you doing here? Isnât school starting?âÂ
           Elena bit the inside of her lip. âItâs a bit of a long story.â
           âI ainât getting any younger.âÂ
           Elena paused. She didnât know if she wanted to tell him or not, but she somehow felt like she had to.Â
âA few months ago, the night I saw you actually, my parentsâ car skidded off this bridge. We almost died, itâs a miracle we didnât.âÂ
âYou come back to the spot where you almost died?â He raised his eyebrows. âSeems a little morbid.âÂ
Elena pressed her lips together. âYeah, I can see how it seems that way.â
âWhat does the boyfriend think about this? You know, the one you got into a fight with?âÂ
Good memory.
âMatt?â Elena thought about him showing up to the hospital, taking her hand in his. Then showing up to her house, anxious to make sure she was doing OK. Then his back as he left when she told him⊠âWe broke up.â
           âFigures,â said Damon with a shrug. âSeems too much like a country bumpkin for a gal like you.â
Something in Elena switched and her tone grew firm. âI was in a weird headspace when I talked to you that night but I would never talk down about Matt. OK? You donât know him so you shouldnât either.âÂ
He shrugged. âI just call âem like I see âem.âÂ
âBut you havenât seen anything.â
He squinted his eyes at her and Elena didnât really know what that meant. She couldnât be sure that he wouldnât hurt her but she couldnât be sure that he would.
âYouâre right, you know, I should get to school. Donât want to be late my first day.âÂ
âWant a lift? I got a sick ride.âÂ
âThanks,â said Elena slowly, picking up her school bag. âBut Iâm kind of taking a break from carsâŠâÂ
âSuit yourself.â
His eyes twinkled and Elena smiled somewhat awkwardly before taking off down the bridge, and when she was sure she had enough distance between them, she slowed down and exhaled, before picking up speed again at hearing another caw. Â
*
Sheâd made it to school quicker than she thought she would. People were still outside, finishing homework or gossiping or playing hacky sack like they were in some weird retro movie. Elena stopped walking, taking a moment to properly breathe and unclench from her talk with Damien or Damon or whatever on the bridge, and glanced around for Bonnie or Caroline.Â
âLook out!â
Everyone looked around, and then up. By the time Elena followed suit, it was too late. A football. Spiraling in the sky. It was soaring toward her and in a second it was going to connect. With her face. Elena already knew it was going to be bloody. Bloody and embarrassing and painful.Â
Someone was calling her name. âElena!â Maybe Matt? âElena, watch---â
Out of nowhere, someone came in front of her, catching the football before it could hit her.
He wasnât even looking at it. His head was turned toward her, his eyes peering into hers for any hint of impact or injury. She could get lost in those eyes -- that brilliant green. She was lost. Elenaâs lips parted.
âYou saved me,â she said, with a gasp of disbelief.Â
âYou all right?â The boyâs tone was soft but his expression was focused, intent on her, and almost smouldering with concern. She could do nothing but blink. It took her a moment to realize that she was actually holding her breath again. It took her another to realize that it wasnât because sheâd almost been pummeled by a football.Â
His gaze lingered for a second before he turned around and threw the ball back. It whipped through the air at a speed Elena didnât think sheâd seen before. She chuckled. She couldnât be sure if it was because of the adrenaline or because she was impressed.Â
âThat was incredible. How did you throw it like that? How did you catch it like that?â
           He shook his head. âI saw that it was coming toward you, and I just reacted, I guess.â    Â
Elena felt suddenly and unexpectedly embarrassed, as if that had been the most intimate thing sheâd ever heard. She was vaguely aware that they had an audience but she saw no one else, just blurs and shapes, this boyâs chiseled face the only thing she could see clearly.Â
âSo, does my hero have a name?â She hoped he could sense the playful irony in her tone and her eyes widened slightly at the possibility that he couldnât. She spoke quickly to fill in the silence. âMineâs, um, Iâm Elena.âÂ
He smiled at her, his eyes glinting with ⊠what was that? Amusement? Charm? Was he charmed? Did she charm him? Why was her heart beating so fast?
âStefan.âÂ
           She nodded and bit her lip nervously. âIâve never seen you around before. I wouldâve remembered.â
           That last part was unnecessary. Oh God.
           âUh,â he grinned, like he didnât know what to do with the compliment. âIâm sort of new here. My family has roots in Mystic Falls, I was born here but I moved away a while ago. I just came back.â
           âJust in time,â she said.
           He looked at her curiously. âFor?â
           Me. Wait, what?
           âUh, well, our football team is in desperate need of saving. And with reflexes like yours, we might actually have a shot at not being a complete joke this year. Tryouts should be this week.âÂ
           Stefan made a face, like he wasnât certain.
           âYou should do it for your moral fibre,â she continued.Â
           He laughed at that.
âNo, seriously, wasnât it, uh, Camus!â Elena said his name like she was answering a question on a game show. âWasnât it him who said everything he learned about morality and obligation he learned from football?â
Stefan licked his lips and Elena did her best to keep her gaze eye-level.
He smiled. âHe wasnât talking about American football.â
âThereâs non-American football?âÂ
âSoccer.âÂ
Elena cringed. âOh. Right. I knew that.â
He shrugged it off. âCommon mistake.âÂ
           He was kind. Elena brushed her hair from her face. The bell rang and everyone started moving toward the building.
Stefan gestured in front of him. âShall we?âÂ
Elena couldnât help but smile but tried to control how widely. âWe shall.âÂ
They started toward one of the schoolâs entrances and even walking side by side, he kept his attention on her.
âSo, you read Camus?â
âYes. No. Well, Iâm trying.â Elena couldnât understand why she was rambling. Maybe sheâd stop if heâd stop looking at her.Â
âI had something sort of happen to me a few months ago and it - uh - it - it changed things for me, not everything, a lot of things. Well, maybe not a lot of things, but some thingsâŠâ Why couldnât she just shut up? âSo Iâm trying to do ⊠things.â Elena, she admonished herself, stop saying âthingsâ. âKind of like a New Yearâs resolution just not on New YearâsâŠâ She pressed her lips together and closed her eyes, shaking her head slightly. If the universe had any decency, it would open up a hole in the ground that would swallow her up.
âThat didnât make any sense did it?âÂ
           Stefan grinned. âI get it. You have a new perspective now and because of that, youâre trying to do things you wouldnât have before.âÂ
           That was exactly right. âWow, you make talking look so easy.âÂ
           âYears of practice.âÂ
           She laughed at that. She didnât remember a time laughing this much, this genuinely in such a short period of time.
They were in the hallway now and Stefan had stopped walking. Elena had the horrible feeling that he was going to head in the opposite direction of her and that it was time for them to go their separate ways.Â
âThanks again,â she said.
âAny time.â
           She moved to continue the way theyâd been walking the same time he moved to walk down the opposite way.
They did that a few times before he stood to the side and let Elena pass.
           âThanks,â she said, hunching her shoulders, embarrassed.
           She should keep walking. It would be smoother that way. Cool. Indifferent. Unaffected. Itâd be what Caroline would tell her to do. She was almost around the corner. No, she couldnât help it. She felt drawn back. A pull. She had to see him one last time. She turned her head and felt a jolt when she saw that heâd been watching her the entire time.Â
*
The rest of the morning went by in a bit of a haze. Truthfully, like most of her days since the accident. And then everything suddenly brightened to a sharp clarity just before lunch. History class. Her eyes went right to him when she walked into the room and she felt locked in even though Stefan didnât seem to notice her. Before he could catch her staring, before Matt -- who sheâd realized a second too late was also in this class -- could feel any worse, she sat down. Â
Mr. Tanner had been droning on for fifteen minutes but Elena wasnât paying attention. She couldnât even if she wanted to --- her thoughts wouldnât let her neither would her body. Everything in her seemed to respond to Stefanâs mere presence being in the same vicinity. As if she were being called to. Which was crazy, she thought, because she didnât even know him.Â
           Casually. Very casually. She turned her head to glance at Stefan. A second later, his gaze met hers and embarrassed excitement bloomed in her chest, making her turn away immediately, a smile lingering on her face. Â
âAm I boring you, Miss Gilbert?âÂ
Mr. Tanner saying her name made her flinch.
She wasnât expecting it and so answered without thinking. âKind of.â She was snapped back into reality when she heard the rest of the class titter with excitement. âSorry, no, I didnât mean---â
âNo, no, you spoke your mind, donât be a coward, own it. Letâs do something to correct your disinterest in my class.â
âMr. Tanner, reallyâŠâ
âPop quiz,â he said, leaning against his desk. âThe Battle of Willow Creek took place right at the end of the war in our very own Mystic Falls. How many casualties resulted in this battle?â
           Elena had no idea. It had to be a lot, right? It was a battle. âA couple hundred at least.âÂ
           âAre you guessing?â
           âWell, Iâm trying,â she said helplessly.Â
           The class laughed.
âIt would impress me more if you just owned up to not knowing.â
âOK then, I donât know.âÂ
Mr. Tanner sighed. âI was willing to be lenient last year for obvious reasons, Elena. But the personal excuses ended with summer break.â
âThere were three hundred and forty-six casualties,â said a deceptively light voice. âUnless you're counting local civilians.â
           Elena looked behind her. Stefan was looking at Mr. Tanner with a pleasant expression on his face.
âThank you, Miss Gilbert.â
Stefan smiled. Entirely un-intimidated.
âYour name?âÂ
âStefan. Stefan Salvatore.âÂ
âSalvatore. One of the Founding Families.âÂ
âDistant relative.â
Elena saw Matt mutter beneath his breath. It looked like it couldâve been âof course.âÂ
Mr. Tanner nodded, as if deciding on how he would play the rest of the scenario. âIn any case, youâre correct. Except, of course, there were no civilian casualties in this battle.â
âActually, there were twenty-seven, sir.â
Mr. Tanner raised his eyebrows. âTwenty-seven?âÂ
âConfederate soldiers, they fired on the church, believing it to be housing weapons. They were wrong. It was a night of great loss.â
Elena felt suddenly moved by that. Something in Stefanâs tone, in his expression told her that he was no stranger to loss. It was almost like he could feel the pain of that day as if he'd lived it.
âThe founder's archives are, uh, stored in civil hall if you'd like to brush up on your facts, Mr. Tanner.â
Elenaâs mouth fell open in gleeful shock and admiration. Â
Mr. Tannerâs eyes flashed. âCute,â he said. âYou know I let it slide before when you swooped in to save Elena, no doubt to impress her, even though I didnât call on you to speak but I wonât tolerate rudeness. Pack up, go to the office.â
âWell, donât get upset at him because he knows more about your subject than you,â said Elena.Â
The class tittered again and Stefan shot Elena an amused expression. She pressed her lips together to keep from smiling.
Mr. Tanner let out a nasty laugh. âWell, isnât this sweet, the lovebirds defending each other. You can join him in the office, Elena. Come on, letâs go.âÂ
Outside in the hall, Stefan was already walking in the direction of the office and Elena reacted.Â
âHey,â she called out.Â
He turned around. She didnât really have a plan. She just didnât want to go to the office and she didnât want him to go either. She wanted time. She realized right then and there, she would probably always want more time with him.Â
Elena walked over to a door and pushed it open. She tilted her head -- you coming? He grinned.Â
They decided to walk around the track, spending a few moments just ambling next to each other as the sun beamed down.
It was weirdly comfortable. Elena didnât feel the need to talk to fill the silence. It was also strange how calm she felt. Earlier, being around him made her nervous, light-headed, and now she just felt ... anchored.
Sheâd never experienced that before.
âBit bold of you, you know,â she said finally. âNew school, new - well - old town, but first day and youâre already making trouble?â
âWell, I live on the edge.âÂ
Elena giggled. âI can see that.â        Â
âWhat about you? Mouthing off to a teacher on the first day? Very edgy,â he said, deadpanned.Â
She snorted. âWell, I nearly died. Whatâs your excuse?âÂ
He turned to her then and Elena mentally kicked herself.Â
âThat the thing that got you on your not New Yearâs resolution?â he asked. âWhat Tanner was talking about?âÂ
           Elena brushed it off. âI shouldnât have brought it up.âÂ
           âWhy not?â
           âBecause itâsâŠâÂ
           She glanced sideways at him to see if he would just change the conversation to something else he wanted to talk about but his expression was interested. Open.Â
âMy parents and I got into a crash last May. Over on Wickery Bridge.â She shrugged. âThatâs it, thatâs the story.â
âMm,â he said. âMaybe thatâs what happened but itâs not the story.âÂ
How did he know that?Â
âYou donât like talking about it.â The way he said it, Elena knew he wouldnât press the subject if she didnât feel like continuing. Â
âI just donât really feel like I can say anything about it,â she found herself saying. âI lived, you know, I survived. My parents survived. I shouldnâtâŠâ
âHave feelings about it?â
Elena had never really thought of it like that before. âEveryoneâs just so ready for it to be in the past, you know?â Â
âA car crash isnât a little thing. Nearly dying is the most transformative thing you can experience. Itâs OK if youâre not OK about it right now. Thereâs a lot to process.âÂ
âYou know, I go to the bridge everyday? The spot we skidded off and into the river. Morbid, right?â
âI donât know,â he said. âSeems like youâre trying to keep a promise to yourself. Going to the bridge helps remind you of that.âÂ
âYeah.â The word barely came out as a whisper.
How did he know that? Know her? Elena felt ⊠recognized. And bare. Yet ⊠safe. This. Was. Crazy.
âA promiseâŠâ She repeated. âAnd thatâs the other thing too, itâs like itâs made me restless. Like, I got a second chance, a miracle, who gets that in their lifetime, you know? And I donât want to waste it. But everything seems dumb and superficial now. I just want to live, you know, live with ⊠with, uh--âÂ
âPassion?â
           She nodded. âRight.â
âIn my experience, itâs the dumb stuff, the small stuff, thatâs what makes up living. By all means, if you want to climb Everest, climb Everest, you know, but going to a concert or a pickup game or âŠ
           âFamily night,â said Elena.
           âWho says you canât do those things passionately?âÂ
           Elena didnât remember when they stopped walking but they were standing now
and the feeling ⊠that feeling ⊠of being recognized had deepened into something more acute, more intense and she felt the urge, the need to be that person, that space for him. Right then and there, she wanted to pour into him, and wanted him to ---
A crow cawed.Â
Breaking the reverie.Â
Elena turned sharply toward it. She couldnât be sure but it seemed like the same one from the bridge. As soon as the thought entered her mind, Damonâs face flashed before her eyes, and she took a deep breath in. Stefan touched her arm. She wanted him to keep her hand there forever.
âYou OK? Whereâd you go?â
âNowhere,â she said. âIâm here. IâŠâ She took another breath and looked around for the crow. It was gone. âThe crow ⊠it reminds me of someone. Someone I saw earlier, before school.âÂ
âSomeone you know?âÂ
âNo. Not exactly. Iâd met him once before.â She closed her eyes, searching for the words to describe what was happening to her. âI donât know, since then thereâs just been this feeling in the pit of my stomach. It went away for a bit, whenâŠâ When she was talking to him. When she was relaxed. âBut it just came back. Itâs like something I canât seem to shake.â
âSounds like he made an impression.âÂ
She looked at him. âThere are better impressions, believe me.âÂ
           Stefanâs eyes searched hers and it happened again. Immediately. He was drawing her into him and she was falling and falling...
âHey, your face. Is there something---â
           âSorry.â Stefan shielded his eyes from her. âSorry, I ⊠sorry, Iâve gotta go.â
           âUhâŠâ
           Elena watched Stefan walk away, his stride swift, and felt a sharp stab of disappointment that they were no longer talking, no longer in the same place together,
           A few seconds later, the bell signalling lunch rang.Â
*
The moment Elena opened her locker, it was slammed shut and her best friend, Bonnie Bennett, was standing beside her. Elena let out a sigh of relief. âBonnie! Why did you--?â
âYou and the new hottie. The whole schoolâs talking. Dish.âÂ
âThereâs nothing to tell,â said Elena casually. Too casually.
Bonnie looked at her. âThat always means thereâs something to tell. And I can tell because---â
âBecause youâre a psychic now?âÂ
âBecause I was sitting by the window in calc. and I saw the two of you walking around the track. And you two were vibing. Donât deny it.âÂ
âOh, please.âÂ
âAimee Bradley said that he defended your honour in Mr. Tannerâs class. She said he cussed Tanner out and stormed out of class..â
Elena made a noise of disbelief. âSince when did you listen to Aimee Bradley?â
Bonnie shrugged. âSheâs not the only one saying it.â
âThat literally did not happen! He just---â
Elena was interrupted.Â
âWell, your nose doesnât look broken,â she said, nudging her way between Elena and Bonnie.Â
âHi, Caroline.âÂ
Elena exchanged a quick look with Bonnie who tried to stifle a laugh.Â
âAnd what do you mean my nose doesnât look broken?âÂ
âOh, everyoneâs talking about how Matt threw a football at your face to get back at you for dumping him and the new guy beat the shit out of him on the green.â
âWhat!â Elena looked at Caroline incredulously. âOh my God, guys! Nothing youâre saying happened! Someone --- not Matt, he tried to warn me -- threw a football, it almost hit me and---â
âAnd the new guy saved you from massive embarrassment on the first day?â said Caroline. âItâs just so typical. There is a finite amount of hot guys at this school and when we finally get new blood, you get there first. Youâve already dated the captain of the football team, you had this encounter with some mystery man---â
Elena unconsciously tensed at the memory and Bonnie looked at Caroline pointedly, who closed her eyes.
âSorry, Iâm a bitch,â she said. âI shouldnât have brought up that night.âÂ
Elena sighed, half-exasperated but already on her way to forgetting the insensitivity. âI never said that guy was hot by the way.â
âOh, please, mystery men are always hot. Itâs like a rule,â said Caroline, apparently over her brief bout of contrition.Â
Elena addressed Bonnie. âYou know I actually saw him again today before coming to school?âÂ
Elena opened her mouth but didnât say anything . âIt was definitely intense. But not likeâŠâ Not like what sheâd felt when she spoke to Stefan. âI donât know, it kind of made me queasy?âÂ
âButterflies,â said Caroline, throwing up her hands. âSo, the sexy, dangerous mystery man gives you butterflies--â
âI never said--â
           âAnd now youâve got the other mystery guy who actually goes here saving you on the green like some freaking knight?â
Elena rolled her eyes. âDonât be so dramatic. He caught a football.âÂ
But even when she tried to minimize what had happened verbally, physically she felt her heart thud and a jittery, giddy flutter in her stomach that made her want to laugh to get the feeling out.
âAnd stood up to Tanner on your behalf,â said Bonnie.Â
Caroline shook her head like she was severely disappointed in Elena. âYouâre being so greedy.â
Bonnie snorted and rested her head on Carolineâs shoulder.Â
Elena opened her locker again. âLook, Iâm not even thinking about Stefan.âÂ
           âSo the new guyâs name is Stefan.âÂ
âI could be talking about the mystery man on the bridge.âÂ
âYouâre not, I can tell by that big, dumb smile youâre trying to hide,â said Bonnie.Â
Elena popped her head out from behind her locker door and gave Bonnie a playful grimace. Â
âAnyway. Iâm actually thinking about Jeremy. I havenât seen him anywhere. Have you two?âÂ
Caroline rooted around in her bag for some lip gloss. âElena, if I ever start caring about the comings-and-goings of sophomores, shoot me.âÂ
âThatâs Caroline-speak for ânoâ,â said Bonnie. âAnd I havenât either.â
âIâm kind of worried. He never skips school.â Elena pulled a contemplative face. âBonnie, do you mind if we, like, quickly go over to my house to see if heâs there? Iâm sure thereâs something in the fridge we can eat so we wonât miss lunch.âÂ
Caroline made an expression as if Elena had said the dumbest thing she ever heard. âIn all of the times weâve skipped school, when have we ever stayed home? Heâs probably at the stonerâ pit or something.âÂ
Bonnie snorted. âYeah, Jeremy, a burnout. Please.âÂ
âNo, he could be at home. I donât know, all summer heâs either been on his Xbox or pining after Vicki Donovan. Maybe heâs pretending to be sick and heâs still in his room.âÂ
âIf heâs been pining after Vicki Donovan then heâs definitely at the stoner pit probably trying to impress her..âÂ
âCaroline!â Bonnie gave her an admonishing hit on the arm.Â
âWhat! You know Iâm not wrong.âÂ
âDonât be mean just because youâve had a thing for Tyler since fifth grade.âÂ
âShut up.âÂ
           Bonnie laughed. âElena, Iâll give you a lift.âÂ
*
âSince when was your family pack rats?â said Bonnie.Â
           Theyâd made it to Elenaâs house and walked into the foyer. The closet beneath the stairs was open and there were a bunch of boxes around the door, crammed with what looked to be junk. Papers. Dusty journals.Â
           âI donât know, this wasnât here when I left this morning,â said Elena.Â
           âYou think Jeremy took it out?â
           âYeah, but why?â
           Bonnie shrugged.
           âJeremy?â Elena called.Â
           When there was no answer, she walked into the living room and didnât see him there or in the kitchen.Â
           âSome leftover spaghetti in the fridge,â said Elena to Bonnie. âIâm just going to check upstairs and then Iâll be right down.âÂ
           Bonnie nodded. âOK cool. I love pasta night at your house.âÂ
           âItâs the oregano,â said Elena, grinning.Â
           She headed up the stairs. She could definitely here talking. Low talking. But it wasnât coming from Jeremyâs room. She turned around. It was coming from her parentsâ. It was the middle of the day. Neither one of them should be home. Elena felt like suddenly she shouldnât be up there. Something was wrong or secret or ⊠She walked slowly down the hall toward the room. The door was nearly closed, but not quite. She peaked through the crack. Jeremy on a chair. So, he did stay home. And then ⊠Dad. He let him stay home? And then ⊠was that ⊠was he holding ⊠a stake?   Â
Link to part 1: http://zalrb.tumblr.com/post/164720175550/trust-jonsa-one-shot
Link to part 2: http://zalrb.tumblr.com/post/181817838525/an-entirely-different-way-pt-2
Link to part 3: http://zalrb.tumblr.com/post/182562584780/passion
Link to part 4:https://zalrb.tumblr.com/post/184333793460/survival
Link to part 5: https://zalrb.tumblr.com/post/184637430325/the-happening
Link to part 6: https://zalrb.tumblr.com/post/627229549053214720/nothing-has-changed-everything-has-changed
Link to part 7: https://zalrb.tumblr.com/post/695978201342672896/agony
Jon Snow was dead. With each step he took toward the altar, heâd buried another piece of himself until he stood, waiting, for his bride as not much more than a hollow husk. Truthfully, heâd already been dead for a while. Since his conversation with Arya.Â
           Heâd been dressing when sheâd entered his rooms, fastening his vest with leaden, sombre hands and when sheâd walked through the doorway, heâd turned to grin at her somewhat morosely.
 "Let me guess,â he said. âYou're here to tell me what a fool I am for agreeing to this wedding. It's a little late. Iâve already asked Tormund to say the first words."
Arya shook her head. "I'm not here to tell you anything." Sheâd smiled, her eyes softening a bit. "No one can tell you anything, Jon."
"I don't know about that,â he said. âSounds more like Sansa."
Jon briefly closed his eyes -- how quickly his thoughts turned to her, how eagerly his tongue spoke her name. It was a problem he needed rectified and an instinct he never wanted quelled and a threat he relished to a peace he longed for. It was a multitude of conflicting emotions. It was Sansa.
"That's why I'm here."
Jon turned around to face her completely, raising his eyebrows.Â
Arya paused. "She'll never forgive you for this, you know."
Oh, did he. "So, you came as her ambassador."
"I came for you, to see if you're prepared for that loss."
He wasnât. He couldnât think of anything worse except for what would happen to his home, his countrymen if he went back on his word. And the fact that Sansa refused to see that, that she would severance herself from him, leave him, made him angry.
"Sansa thinks she knows better than everybody else,â he said gruffly. âBut I am doing this because--"
"Jon, your Queen?â Arya walked up to him, her tone getting firmer.Â
âOur Queen, Arya.â
âI know a killer when I see one. And if somewhere she knows about..." She looked at him pointedly and his lips parted. She knew. He knew she knew. But she wouldnât say it out loud.
"Then Sansa is a threat to her in more ways than one and that's something I will have to deal with."
"Don't speak so dangerously," said Jon.
"Iâve never been afraid of danger.â She kept her gaze steady. "Sansa will never abandon you but tonight you will lose her, do you think you can survive that? Do you think we can survive that?"
He rubbed his eyes. Why was everyone being impossible? "I have to choose what's best for everyone, regardless of how I feel or what I want. We donât have the luxury of following our ⊠we have a duty ⊠we ⊠I gave my word before I even knew that Iâd---âÂ
Jon couldnât even finish the sentence. It physically pained himÂ
Arya continued to look at him. "I know you think you've made your choice. But don't be surprised if there comes a time where you might have to choose again."
*
Sansa couldnât recall the last time a wedding had been a joyous occasion. Tyrion had been kind in their marriage but she hadnât known what to expect beforehand and the trepidation and unease of that ignorance had made her nervous and fearful the entire ceremony. The night sheâd married Ramsay, sheâd thought she was going to be sick, walking through the godswood sheâd walked through many times as a young girl but with Bolton banners everywhere and toward a family who had slaughtered hers. Upon seeing Ramsayâs face her own became a mask of impassivity while rage and disgust and fear roiled within her. Before either wedding, her mother and brother had been slaughtered at one, ripping out a large piece of her that she would never, even if sheâd attempted to, get back. The only glimmer of joy had been when Joffrey, her tormentor, had died an agonizing death at his wedding but that demise had not been the liberation sheâd prayed for.Â
And now, this wedding, between this man and that woman. This wedding thatâd had the entire castle in a frenzy of preparation for days. This wedding was plaguing her with a keen, aching sorrow that made it impossible to speak, near-impossible to breathe. In the midst of dressing for the occasion, she would sometimes stare at her own hands, wondering who they belonged to So much had been taken from her over the years, but this loss was something she couldnât have imagined because she couldnât have imagined Jon in the first place, of what the two of them together awakened in her. She couldnât imagine passion. She couldnât imagineâŠ
Sansa closed her eyes. Stop it. Stop.
It was done. They were done. Before they even started. She had to let it go. There was no other way. Her heart had been broken a thousand times before this, and loving Jon Snow would be yet something else sheâd survive. She knew how to endure, she knew how to rebuild, she ---
Suddenly, she heard a creak and felt something inside of her ignite. That spark, it was only triggered by one personâs presence. She turned toward the door, looking at it with such concentration as if that was all it took for her tear-brimmed eyes to see through to the other side, to see through to who she knew, in her gut, was standing in the corridor. She willed him to come in, to knock, to whisper her name, to yell in anger, to do anything to let her know he was there, he was hers. Â
Jon stood outside Sansaâs door, poised to walk in. He wanted to hold her and yell at her all at once and his hand trembled with the urge to push open this barrier between them and take her in his arms. Soon, his entire body thrummed with the desire to see her, to go to her. His mouth moved wordlessly, and he furrowed his brow, conflicted. It felt physically impossible to stay on this side of the door, everything in him strained to see her, yearned to touch her. The desire was overpowering, transforming into an uncontainable force that made him agitated, made his breathing ragged, he was going to come undone --Â
And then it was gone. Heâd buried it all at once, removing himself from how he felt, shrouding himself in a numbness so complete, it was as if he belonged to himself. He was gone.
He murmured, âGoodbyeâ and we walked down the corridor, making his way out to the godswood.Â
Sansa sank onto a chair, her hand suddenly splayed on her chest as the spark died as quickly as it had flared within her and something in her body shifted. Something that told her, it was all over.Â
*
The knock was unexpected. It wasnât Jon. Sansa already knew that. But it surprised her when she opened the door to find Daenerys in full wedding dress.
Sansa blinked. âYour Grace. I⊠I was making my way to your rooms---â
âThatâs alright,â said Daenerys. âI move at my own pace.â
âEvidently.â
Daenerys walked into the room and glanced around. âI wanted to give this to you before the ceremony.âÂ
She handed Sansa a scroll that she unfurled and began reading.Â
âIt will say that as my prince consort, Jon will have another title as King in the North, which is what Tyrion had explained when discussing the political aspects of this union.âÂ
Sansa remained looking at the piece of paper, sensing Daenerys was waiting for some sort of expression of gratitude but she did not give one.Â
Daenerys prompted her. âIt is exactly what we discussed.âÂ
âWell, what you and Jon discussed,â said Sansa, putting the paper on her desk.Â
Daenerysâ face became steadily less congenial. âI have compromised a lot, Sansa. I even conceded to the Northern customs for this wedding.âÂ
âWhich was smart as youâre in the North and want to the favour of our people,â said Sansa simply with a shrug. Every move Daenerys did was calculated and she was rather bored with the assumption that she didnât know when her strategies were simply common sense. âA Northern wedding and a title with no power.âÂ
âJust not sovereignty,â said Sansa. âHe bends the knee to you, we bend the knee to him, nothing changes. Heâs just the Warden of North except heâs not in the North and has a fancier title and youâre counting on our loyalty to Jon to quell any idea of a rebellion as he would be by your side.â
Whatever congeniality Daenerys was putting on had now evaporated. âThe Seven Kingdoms are my birthright, the North is my birthright and I love this land like---âÂ
Sansa clasped her hands together. âWhat is it that you love about the North in the short time youâve been here?â
Daenerys blinked, taken aback by the question. She tried to recover. âI discover something new about this place everyday. Each discovery more beautiful than the last.âÂ
âMm.â Sansa nodded. âBut do you love the conviction we have in our beliefs? Do you understand our beliefs? Our wilfulness and loyalty. The passion with which we uphold our ideals, which may be very different from your own? Our might, our---â
As Sansa continued to speak with more and more feeling, Daenerys got the distinct impression that she was not only describing her country and countrymen. And when she finished, she took a deep, shuddering breath as if her own words moved her to breathlessness.Â
Daenerys cleared her throat and patted down her dress. âI am marrying him when I am in no need of a husband,â he said. âThat is proof enough,â she said, opening the door. âItâs time.âÂ
âYour Grace,â said Sansa.
           âHow do I look?âÂ
           Sansa gave her a once over. âItâs a dress fit for a Queen.âÂ
Jon couldnât feel the chill on his bare face, he couldnât feel himself within his body, couldnât even feel worn or tired, or detached, he felt ⊠gone. Tormund, who stood next to him, was more nervous than he was. He could see Arya looking at him curiously but couldnât even bring himself to pretend. He just ⊠was. Heâd snuffed it out -- the spark that had enlivened him since the Red Woman brought him back and now he was nothing more than an animated corpse and that was all he would be. That was the choice, the sacrifice heâd made.
           He saw them approach but his vision was unfocused, saving him from seeing her, from noticing her, keeping his heart dead.
Sansa, once again, found herself in the godswood. Her feet, once again, propelling her toward her heartbreak. They passed by soldiers, passed by faces she knew until they stopped in front of Jon and she felt as though sheâd shatter on the spot.Â
Tormund glanced awkwardly at Jon who gave an encouraging nod and then he spoke, his voice raspy. âWho comes before the gods?âÂ
Sansa didnât answer right away. She couldnât. If she did, her voice would break and betray the depth of her pain and sheâd already bled in front of Jon enough for a lifetime. She willed herself to swallow her sadness and relax her throat and once she did, she answered.
âDaenerys of the House Targaryen.â Sansa paused before saying the words that had shackled her to a man sheâd despised. âA woman trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessings of the gods. Who ⊠who comes to claim her?â
Jon hesitated and then stepped forward. Even in such a state, he was drawn to her. His eyes shifted to Sansaâs and when, after a few seconds, they locked, the furious pain that made hers shine with unshed tears lanced through his chest and catapulted him into an internal free fall. He didnât feel rooted to the ground he was standing on. Nothing about the wood seemed real or possible, it wasnât possible that he was where was, watching himself stare at the woman, at the two women in front of him. This body wasnât his, this life wasnât his. He was aware everyone was waiting for him to recite the expected answer.Â
He opened his mouth. He paused for a second, an eternity and then --- Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â
Commotion in the near distance. Clanging. Shouting. Everyone turned to look toward the distraction. Voices could be heard.
âAssassin! Assassin!âÂ
Everyone started moving. Jon and Brienne rushed toward Sansa, Brienne standing in front of her, Jon crushing her to him, cloaking her. Greyworm rushed to protect Daenerys, joining her with Missandei. Arya, readied, had her blade drawn, covering Bran. A few soldiers ran toward the commotion. Everything was happening so fast.Â
In a manner of seconds, men entered the clearing with the severed heads of the apparent would-be assassins.Â
âWhat has happened?âÂ
âThey opposed the union.â
Daenerysâ head snapped toward Sansa and then her eyes widened near-imperceptibly at seeing the way Jon held onto her.
His stomach plummeted. âNo,â he whispered. âDaenerys---â
She addressed Sansa. âDid you know about this?â
Sansa remained silent, her eyes narrowed in fury.Â
Link to part 1: http://zalrb.tumblr.com/post/164720175550/trust-jonsa-one-shot
Link to part 2: http://zalrb.tumblr.com/post/181817838525/an-entirely-different-way-pt-2
Link to part 3: http://zalrb.tumblr.com/post/182562584780/passion
Link to part 4:https://zalrb.tumblr.com/post/184333793460/survival
Link to part 5: https://zalrb.tumblr.com/post/184637430325/the-happening
Link to part 6: https://zalrb.tumblr.com/post/627229549053214720/nothing-has-changed-everything-has-changed
Link to part 7: https://zalrb.tumblr.com/post/695978201342672896/agony
Jon Snow was dead. With each step he took toward the altar, heâd buried another piece of himself until he stood, waiting, for his bride as not much more than a hollow husk. Truthfully, heâd already been dead for a while. Since his conversation with Arya.Â
           Heâd been dressing when sheâd entered his rooms, fastening his vest with leaden, sombre hands and when sheâd walked through the doorway, heâd turned to grin at her somewhat morosely.
 "Let me guess,â he said. âYou're here to tell me what a fool I am for agreeing to this wedding. It's a little late. Iâve already asked Tormund to say the first words."
Arya shook her head. "I'm not here to tell you anything." Sheâd smiled, her eyes softening a bit. "No one can tell you anything, Jon."
"I don't know about that,â he said. âSounds more like Sansa."
Jon briefly closed his eyes -- how quickly his thoughts turned to her, how eagerly his tongue spoke her name. It was a problem he needed rectified and an instinct he never wanted quelled and a threat he relished to a peace he longed for. It was a multitude of conflicting emotions. It was Sansa.
"That's why I'm here."
Jon turned around to face her completely, raising his eyebrows.Â
Arya paused. "She'll never forgive you for this, you know."
Oh, did he. "So, you came as her ambassador."
"I came for you, to see if you're prepared for that loss."
He wasnât. He couldnât think of anything worse except for what would happen to his home, his countrymen if he went back on his word. And the fact that Sansa refused to see that, that she would severance herself from him, leave him, made him angry.
"Sansa thinks she knows better than everybody else,â he said gruffly. âBut I am doing this because--"
"Jon, your Queen?â Arya walked up to him, her tone getting firmer.Â
âOur Queen, Arya.â
âI know a killer when I see one. And if somewhere she knows about..." She looked at him pointedly and his lips parted. She knew. He knew she knew. But she wouldnât say it out loud.
"Then Sansa is a threat to her in more ways than one and that's something I will have to deal with."
"Don't speak so dangerously," said Jon.
"Iâve never been afraid of danger.â She kept her gaze steady. "Sansa will never abandon you but tonight you will lose her, do you think you can survive that? Do you think we can survive that?"
He rubbed his eyes. Why was everyone being impossible? "I have to choose what's best for everyone, regardless of how I feel or what I want. We donât have the luxury of following our ⊠we have a duty ⊠we ⊠I gave my word before I even knew that Iâd---âÂ
Jon couldnât even finish the sentence. It physically pained himÂ
Arya continued to look at him. "I know you think you've made your choice. But don't be surprised if there comes a time where you might have to choose again."
*
Sansa couldnât recall the last time a wedding had been a joyous occasion. Tyrion had been kind in their marriage but she hadnât known what to expect beforehand and the trepidation and unease of that ignorance had made her nervous and fearful the entire ceremony. The night sheâd married Ramsay, sheâd thought she was going to be sick, walking through the godswood sheâd walked through many times as a young girl but with Bolton banners everywhere and toward a family who had slaughtered hers. Upon seeing Ramsayâs face her own became a mask of impassivity while rage and disgust and fear roiled within her. Before either wedding, her mother and brother had been slaughtered at one, ripping out a large piece of her that she would never, even if sheâd attempted to, get back. The only glimmer of joy had been when Joffrey, her tormentor, had died an agonizing death at his wedding but that demise had not been the liberation sheâd prayed for.Â
And now, this wedding, between this man and that woman. This wedding thatâd had the entire castle in a frenzy of preparation for days. This wedding was plaguing her with a keen, aching sorrow that made it impossible to speak, near-impossible to breathe. In the midst of dressing for the occasion, she would sometimes stare at her own hands, wondering who they belonged to So much had been taken from her over the years, but this loss was something she couldnât have imagined because she couldnât have imagined Jon in the first place, of what the two of them together awakened in her. She couldnât imagine passion. She couldnât imagineâŠ
Sansa closed her eyes. Stop it. Stop.
It was done. They were done. Before they even started. She had to let it go. There was no other way. Her heart had been broken a thousand times before this, and loving Jon Snow would be yet something else sheâd survive. She knew how to endure, she knew how to rebuild, she ---
Suddenly, she heard a creak and felt something inside of her ignite. That spark, it was only triggered by one personâs presence. She turned toward the door, looking at it with such concentration as if that was all it took for her tear-brimmed eyes to see through to the other side, to see through to who she knew, in her gut, was standing in the corridor. She willed him to come in, to knock, to whisper her name, to yell in anger, to do anything to let her know he was there, he was hers. Â
Jon stood outside Sansaâs door, poised to walk in. He wanted to hold her and yell at her all at once and his hand trembled with the urge to push open this barrier between them and take her in his arms. Soon, his entire body thrummed with the desire to see her, to go to her. His mouth moved wordlessly, and he furrowed his brow, conflicted. It felt physically impossible to stay on this side of the door, everything in him strained to see her, yearned to touch her. The desire was overpowering, transforming into an uncontainable force that made him agitated, made his breathing ragged, he was going to come undone --Â
And then it was gone. Heâd buried it all at once, removing himself from how he felt, shrouding himself in a numbness so complete, it was as if he belonged to himself. He was gone.
He murmured, âGoodbyeâ and we walked down the corridor, making his way out to the godswood.Â
Sansa sank onto a chair, her hand suddenly splayed on her chest as the spark died as quickly as it had flared within her and something in her body shifted. Something that told her, it was all over.Â
*
The knock was unexpected. It wasnât Jon. Sansa already knew that. But it surprised her when she opened the door to find Daenerys in full wedding dress.
Sansa blinked. âYour Grace. I⊠I was making my way to your rooms---â
âThatâs alright,â said Daenerys. âI move at my own pace.â
âEvidently.â
Daenerys walked into the room and glanced around. âI wanted to give this to you before the ceremony.âÂ
She handed Sansa a scroll that she unfurled and began reading.Â
âIt will say that as my prince consort, Jon will have another title as King in the North, which is what Tyrion had explained when discussing the political aspects of this union.âÂ
Sansa remained looking at the piece of paper, sensing Daenerys was waiting for some sort of expression of gratitude but she did not give one.Â
Daenerys prompted her. âIt is exactly what we discussed.âÂ
âWell, what you and Jon discussed,â said Sansa, putting the paper on her desk.Â
Daenerysâ face became steadily less congenial. âI have compromised a lot, Sansa. I even conceded to the Northern customs for this wedding.âÂ
âWhich was smart as youâre in the North and want to the favour of our people,â said Sansa simply with a shrug. Every move Daenerys did was calculated and she was rather bored with the assumption that she didnât know when her strategies were simply common sense. âA Northern wedding and a title with no power.âÂ
âJust not sovereignty,â said Sansa. âHe bends the knee to you, we bend the knee to him, nothing changes. Heâs just the Warden of North except heâs not in the North and has a fancier title and youâre counting on our loyalty to Jon to quell any idea of a rebellion as he would be by your side.â
Whatever congeniality Daenerys was putting on had now evaporated. âThe Seven Kingdoms are my birthright, the North is my birthright and I love this land like---âÂ
Sansa clasped her hands together. âWhat is it that you love about the North in the short time youâve been here?â
Daenerys blinked, taken aback by the question. She tried to recover. âI discover something new about this place everyday. Each discovery more beautiful than the last.âÂ
âMm.â Sansa nodded. âBut do you love the conviction we have in our beliefs? Do you understand our beliefs? Our wilfulness and loyalty. The passion with which we uphold our ideals, which may be very different from your own? Our might, our---â
As Sansa continued to speak with more and more feeling, Daenerys got the distinct impression that she was not only describing her country and countrymen. And when she finished, she took a deep, shuddering breath as if her own words moved her to breathlessness.Â
Daenerys cleared her throat and patted down her dress. âI am marrying him when I am in no need of a husband,â he said. âThat is proof enough,â she said, opening the door. âItâs time.âÂ
âYour Grace,â said Sansa.
           âHow do I look?âÂ
           Sansa gave her a once over. âItâs a dress fit for a Queen.âÂ
Jon couldnât feel the chill on his bare face, he couldnât feel himself within his body, couldnât even feel worn or tired, or detached, he felt ⊠gone. Tormund, who stood next to him, was more nervous than he was. He could see Arya looking at him curiously but couldnât even bring himself to pretend. He just ⊠was. Heâd snuffed it out -- the spark that had enlivened him since the Red Woman brought him back and now he was nothing more than an animated corpse and that was all he would be. That was the choice, the sacrifice heâd made.
           He saw them approach but his vision was unfocused, saving him from seeing her, from noticing her, keeping his heart dead.
Sansa, once again, found herself in the godswood. Her feet, once again, propelling her toward her heartbreak. They passed by soldiers, passed by faces she knew until they stopped in front of Jon and she felt as though sheâd shatter on the spot.Â
Tormund glanced awkwardly at Jon who gave an encouraging nod and then he spoke, his voice raspy. âWho comes before the gods?âÂ
Sansa didnât answer right away. She couldnât. If she did, her voice would break and betray the depth of her pain and sheâd already bled in front of Jon enough for a lifetime. She willed herself to swallow her sadness and relax her throat and once she did, she answered.
âDaenerys of the House Targaryen.â Sansa paused before saying the words that had shackled her to a man sheâd despised. âA woman trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessings of the gods. Who ⊠who comes to claim her?â
Jon hesitated and then stepped forward. Even in such a state, he was drawn to her. His eyes shifted to Sansaâs and when, after a few seconds, they locked, the furious pain that made hers shine with unshed tears lanced through his chest and catapulted him into an internal free fall. He didnât feel rooted to the ground he was standing on. Nothing about the wood seemed real or possible, it wasnât possible that he was where was, watching himself stare at the woman, at the two women in front of him. This body wasnât his, this life wasnât his. He was aware everyone was waiting for him to recite the expected answer.Â
He opened his mouth. He paused for a second, an eternity and then --- Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â
Commotion in the near distance. Clanging. Shouting. Everyone turned to look toward the distraction. Voices could be heard.
âAssassin! Assassin!âÂ
Everyone started moving. Jon and Brienne rushed toward Sansa, Brienne standing in front of her, Jon crushing her to him, cloaking her. Greyworm rushed to protect Daenerys, joining her with Missandei. Arya, readied, had her blade drawn, covering Bran. A few soldiers ran toward the commotion. Everything was happening so fast.Â
In a manner of seconds, men entered the clearing with the severed heads of the apparent would-be assassins.Â
âWhat has happened?âÂ
âThey opposed the union.â
Daenerysâ head snapped toward Sansa and then her eyes widened near-imperceptibly at seeing the way Jon held onto her.
His stomach plummeted. âNo,â he whispered. âDaenerys---â
She addressed Sansa. âDid you know about this?â
Sansa remained silent, her eyes narrowed in fury.Â
I know there were a couple of requests to include a few things but this is already an extremely long fic and itâs JUST focused on the SE angst soâŠâŠ but there are a couple of threads of things that might get a continuation if I write a second part. Hopefully itâs nothing but angsty goodness :)
my fav type of couple right now is "when they are similar but not the same"
like avery grambs x jameson hawthorne (the inheritance games), nora stephens x charlie lastra (book lovers), tory nichols x robby keene (cobra kai), yeo reum x dae beom (summer strike)
for me there is something very special about these couples that consist of people who are so similar that they understand each other better than anyone else, but still there are differences between them that help elevate the relationship
i know many people love the "opposites attract" type of couple and nothing against it, but the "we are similar" (i think you can call it that, right?) is simply superior to me
now... why am i not seeing more people shipping wednesday and bianca????? they have the perfect story for a hate to love plot, they've energy together and i love their scenes together
i wish everyone who made kit connor feel he had to come out a very merry FUCK YOU. you forced an eighteen year old into coming out publicly, before he was ready, when he stated many many times he wanted to keep it private. how many more times does this shit have to fucking happen before some of you fucking clock that YOU CANNOT QUEERBAIT IN REAL LIFE. this is the natural end to the discourse of âif somebody is in the public eye playing a queer person they owe us their sexualityâ, and itâs DEEPLY FUCKED UP, they do NOT owe you an answer, and this mindset JUST FORCED AN EIGHTEEN YEAR OLD TO OUT HIMSELF BEFORE HE WAS READY TO
I genuinely don't understand how people can watch Tory go through a season full of abuse and manipulation and then blame her for not immediately telling everyone about the tournament. people really saw this child being viciously abused by the only two authority figures in her life and said, "wow, what a coward; she should've came out about this way sooner." it makes sense that Sam was initially upset, given her lack of context, and it makes sense why she would call Tory a coward, but when she found out more about Tory's situation, she got over it and understood. because she's not going to hold Tory's own abuse against her.
No, but you're so right! The way I saw people saying she was to blame for what she went through, while Tory was constantly being manipulated and abused shocked me!
I understand that not everyone likes Tory or her writing on the show, but how can they see s5 and blame her for the adults who chose to manipulate her?!?! And like, Tory talks about how she hates having to lie, keep it all a secret, but she genuinely believed that what she was doing was the right way to do it, she just wanted to do the right thing
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