Amy's Oath
Characters: Amy Sinclair, Nathan Petrelli, Trevor Harkness, Claire Bennet, King Arawn, Luke Campbell, and Victor Creed.
Rating: PG
Setting: Bump in the Night ‘verse
Word Count: 1,064
A/N: All muses used with permission and TLC. Set immediately after this thread.
I glare at the gathering of royalty before me, rage painted on my face. I hate this, hate that this is what I’m being forced to do to free my family, but I have no choice. Closing my eyes for a moment, I focus on what the end result. My stomach gives a sickening roll, and my palms begin to sweat…and that’s how I know it’s time to begin.
“I swear ta fight for this court ’n’ defend the throne ‘til my body fails me ’n’ I can defend it no longer. I swear t’ obey an’ protect…” I trail off, grinding my teeth. It’s no secret that I have authority issues, and I don’t function well under dictators, but I have to do this. For Luke, for Nathan, for Claire and Trevor and Jack, I have to. “T’ obey an’ protect my king for as long as he protects those who give me the strength t’ carry on. As part o’ this, my king will return Claire Kate Bennet to 'er father, an’ return Trevor John Harkness ta his family. Should I fail in this oath, let me lay down my life an’ live no more. I swear this Oath in blood ‘n’ seal myself t’ King Arawn, Lord o’ the Unseelie Fae.” I feel sick for saying those words, for promising myself to someone I’d rather kill than ever protect, but even as my stomach rolls, I can feel power rising in me, feel something changing in me. I stoop down to pull the knife from my right boot, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath before rising again.
Squeezing my hand into a fist around the blade, I pull the knife sharply, wincing as it rips open my skin. I stare down as blood quickly fills the two wounds, watch as it fills the lines in my palm before once more squeezing a fist. My blood, the proof of my life, a sacrifice for my family’s life spills into a small stone basin, collected as if it were water from the fountain of youth. I feel sick.
Only now does it seem that the people gathered here breathe, and Arawn rises from his throne. Even I can’t deny how poised and elegant he is, despite that boiling hatred that’s twisting in my gut. I can’t stop the growl that rolls past my lips as he approaches me, laying hands on my shoulders. “Don’ touch me.” I try to pull away, but his grip is firm, holding me in place.
“Welcome to my court, my child. You are now my Knight of Spirit, holding dominion over the soul itself. I return to you the prisoners I have promised in blood, and bestow upon you the blessing of myself and this court,” he purrs to me. I can’t think about anything but the stench of his sickly sweet oils and the inhuman strength of his fingers.
It takes a moment for me to realize that he’s done talking, that he’s let go of me. Now Victor rises, and the significance hits me like a ton of bricks. I just, in effect, murdered him not a week ago, and now… “You.” The word is dripping with venom, with hatred, despite my fascination with him; he’s definitely a healer, and solid like metal...like Logan. Things to consider later.
“Now darlin’, y’don’t gotta look so angry,” he purrs as he stalks toward me, so much like the predator he truly is. Those wicked claws glint in the light, and a whisper of fear thrums in me as he approaches. Seconds seem to last hours, and I can feel sweat beading on my forehead by the time the feral finally stops in front of me. Instead of laying his hands on my shoulders, he looks to Arawn as though searching for encouragement before taking my bloodied right hand in his left paw. It takes every ounce of my strength to keep my face impassive, but the smirk that crosses his face after a moment tells me that he knows it hurts. “Welcome t’ the club, bitch. Don’t die too soon.” He grips my hand tighter, testing me, and I return the favor. His smirk spreads into a full grin before he lets go and steps back, returning to his place at Arawn’s side.
“Come,” calls Arawn, “let us make the necessary exchanges.” He snaps his fingers, indicating for Claire and Trevor to be brought out, and I shudder internally. They both look like hell, but Claire more so. She’s naked, bloody, but the scariest part is that she’s got those marks in her skin. She’s supposed to be impossible to harm, but I can see those marks in her skin, and I want to puke. I want to run to her and hold her and tell her it’ll all be okay, but Trevor beats me to it. They’re clinging to each other as Nathan steps forward, a tiny golden egg cradled so carefully in his hands.
I watch my husband as he brings my son - our son to this…man. He presents Luke’s egg, and my heart breaks; he looks so tired, so broken. “My son, Lucius Daniel Petrelli, as I swore in blood. Now let them go, my king, I beg you.”
Arawn delicately takes that egg in his hands, smirks at it. “The boy’s goblins did such intricate work; I am impressed. I require your own sacrifice, Air Knight, a sacrifice of your blood to anchor the boy to the physical world.” I frown, watching them closely, but Nathan obliges. I hand him my knife, and he drags the blade across his palm over the basin, his blood mingling with mine, before joining our wounded hands. Blood to blood, life to life, joined as Jack said we were always meant to be, I cling to that. My ears can’t comprehend the words that the Fae Lord speaks, mind can’t interpret the archaic language slipping from his lips in that intricately woven melody, but a part of me is terrified when he breaks the egg that houses my son’s soul.
Nathan’s grip on my hand tightens, but I can feel so much fear from both of us that I can’t even tell where mine ends and his begins. It takes a few moments, but finally the shadows weave together before unfolding to reveal a tiny form. But that face… “Luke?” I whisper, and Nathan’s eyes widen.
“What!?” yells Arawn. I should be terrified, but instead…I’m relieved.
My son is back.
Rating: PG
Setting: Bump in the Night ‘verse
Word Count: 1,064
A/N: All muses used with permission and TLC. Set immediately after this thread.
I glare at the gathering of royalty before me, rage painted on my face. I hate this, hate that this is what I’m being forced to do to free my family, but I have no choice. Closing my eyes for a moment, I focus on what the end result. My stomach gives a sickening roll, and my palms begin to sweat…and that’s how I know it’s time to begin.
“I swear ta fight for this court ’n’ defend the throne ‘til my body fails me ’n’ I can defend it no longer. I swear t’ obey an’ protect…” I trail off, grinding my teeth. It’s no secret that I have authority issues, and I don’t function well under dictators, but I have to do this. For Luke, for Nathan, for Claire and Trevor and Jack, I have to. “T’ obey an’ protect my king for as long as he protects those who give me the strength t’ carry on. As part o’ this, my king will return Claire Kate Bennet to 'er father, an’ return Trevor John Harkness ta his family. Should I fail in this oath, let me lay down my life an’ live no more. I swear this Oath in blood ‘n’ seal myself t’ King Arawn, Lord o’ the Unseelie Fae.” I feel sick for saying those words, for promising myself to someone I’d rather kill than ever protect, but even as my stomach rolls, I can feel power rising in me, feel something changing in me. I stoop down to pull the knife from my right boot, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath before rising again.
Squeezing my hand into a fist around the blade, I pull the knife sharply, wincing as it rips open my skin. I stare down as blood quickly fills the two wounds, watch as it fills the lines in my palm before once more squeezing a fist. My blood, the proof of my life, a sacrifice for my family’s life spills into a small stone basin, collected as if it were water from the fountain of youth. I feel sick.
Only now does it seem that the people gathered here breathe, and Arawn rises from his throne. Even I can’t deny how poised and elegant he is, despite that boiling hatred that’s twisting in my gut. I can’t stop the growl that rolls past my lips as he approaches me, laying hands on my shoulders. “Don’ touch me.” I try to pull away, but his grip is firm, holding me in place.
“Welcome to my court, my child. You are now my Knight of Spirit, holding dominion over the soul itself. I return to you the prisoners I have promised in blood, and bestow upon you the blessing of myself and this court,” he purrs to me. I can’t think about anything but the stench of his sickly sweet oils and the inhuman strength of his fingers.
It takes a moment for me to realize that he’s done talking, that he’s let go of me. Now Victor rises, and the significance hits me like a ton of bricks. I just, in effect, murdered him not a week ago, and now… “You.” The word is dripping with venom, with hatred, despite my fascination with him; he’s definitely a healer, and solid like metal...like Logan. Things to consider later.
“Now darlin’, y’don’t gotta look so angry,” he purrs as he stalks toward me, so much like the predator he truly is. Those wicked claws glint in the light, and a whisper of fear thrums in me as he approaches. Seconds seem to last hours, and I can feel sweat beading on my forehead by the time the feral finally stops in front of me. Instead of laying his hands on my shoulders, he looks to Arawn as though searching for encouragement before taking my bloodied right hand in his left paw. It takes every ounce of my strength to keep my face impassive, but the smirk that crosses his face after a moment tells me that he knows it hurts. “Welcome t’ the club, bitch. Don’t die too soon.” He grips my hand tighter, testing me, and I return the favor. His smirk spreads into a full grin before he lets go and steps back, returning to his place at Arawn’s side.
“Come,” calls Arawn, “let us make the necessary exchanges.” He snaps his fingers, indicating for Claire and Trevor to be brought out, and I shudder internally. They both look like hell, but Claire more so. She’s naked, bloody, but the scariest part is that she’s got those marks in her skin. She’s supposed to be impossible to harm, but I can see those marks in her skin, and I want to puke. I want to run to her and hold her and tell her it’ll all be okay, but Trevor beats me to it. They’re clinging to each other as Nathan steps forward, a tiny golden egg cradled so carefully in his hands.
I watch my husband as he brings my son - our son to this…man. He presents Luke’s egg, and my heart breaks; he looks so tired, so broken. “My son, Lucius Daniel Petrelli, as I swore in blood. Now let them go, my king, I beg you.”
Arawn delicately takes that egg in his hands, smirks at it. “The boy’s goblins did such intricate work; I am impressed. I require your own sacrifice, Air Knight, a sacrifice of your blood to anchor the boy to the physical world.” I frown, watching them closely, but Nathan obliges. I hand him my knife, and he drags the blade across his palm over the basin, his blood mingling with mine, before joining our wounded hands. Blood to blood, life to life, joined as Jack said we were always meant to be, I cling to that. My ears can’t comprehend the words that the Fae Lord speaks, mind can’t interpret the archaic language slipping from his lips in that intricately woven melody, but a part of me is terrified when he breaks the egg that houses my son’s soul.
Nathan’s grip on my hand tightens, but I can feel so much fear from both of us that I can’t even tell where mine ends and his begins. It takes a few moments, but finally the shadows weave together before unfolding to reveal a tiny form. But that face… “Luke?” I whisper, and Nathan’s eyes widen.
“What!?” yells Arawn. I should be terrified, but instead…I’m relieved.
My son is back.