For those of you that don’t know, today is the day that the last episode of Young Justice takes place. So, I made this tribute for it. I came up with the idea just two days ago so I almost killed myself trying to finish it on time. Some parts you can tell I was really rushing.
All the drawings in this video were made by me and I edited it myself. The song is Photograph by Ed Sheeran, and its on my Spitfire playlist!
hi! me again with a canon divergence/AU prompt! Imagine... Jamie finds Claire when he escapes from Ardsmuir prison. (I can't remember if the episode is in Voyager or in The Scottish Prisoner, sorry)
A clink of metal at the door made me look up from mopping the forehead of the desperately ill man.
There were two men in the door, one tall, painfully thin, dressed in rags, and fettered. The other was much shorter, slim, light-boned as a girl, and wearing the uniform of an English Army Officer. This must be the prisoner brought to listen to the dying man’s final words. Mr. Campbell, who owned The Lime Tree Inn, had mentioned they were coming.
I stood and curtsied to them. It was only as I was rising that my mind finally made the connections.
Thin he was, and fettered, but he still stood as straight-backed as a king, the top of his head nearly brushing the rafters- chains and starvation could not mask that pride, for all they might try.
His face was obscured by untrimmed and unwashed red beard, but it could not hide the slanting blue eyes that looked at me out of a bone-white face.
It had been his hands though, that had given him away. His right hand, specifically. Where his left was large, straight, and capable-looking, his right was twisted, the middle finger crooked, the ring finger fused unnaturally straight. Both had scars across the backs. Scars that I knew intimately. Scars I had created.
I schooled my features carefully before looking up at the two men, and cast my lot. “Feasgar math maighstirean.” I could only pray that the English officer did not know enough Gaelic to detect my own English accent beneath the unfamiliar words.
The officer gave a short, irritable bow, clearly understanding nothing of what I had just said, but the prisoner simply stood, looking as though he were made of stone.
“Thank you, we must speak with the wanderer now in private,” the Englishman said, gesturing me out the door with a polite, if perfunctory wave of his hand.
I cocked my head at him, as though I didn’t understand a word he’d said, and looked then at the prisoner.
At Jamie Fraser.
At my husband.
“You’ve learned some Gaelic then, have you Sorcha?” he asked quietly in that language, translating even my name for me.
I lowered my lashes and bobbed my head slightly. “I’ve been practicing,” I answered.
“She doesna speak English,” Jamie lied to the officer. “Would you like me to ask her if she will have some tea or food sent up?”
“No, just have her go.”
Jamie turned to me again. “Are you really real?” he asked.
“I am. I promise I am.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m saving your life, fool.” I could see the confusion and question in his eyes, but the small English officer was shifting from foot to foot, clearly desperate for me to leave. I bobbed another curtsy and left, as he wanted.
My heart was hammering in my chest as I leaned against the wall outside the door.
I was terrified that the soldier might have been able to read my give-away countenance and see that I was lying.
I was thankful that the man seemed not to understand enough Gaelic to recognize my many mistakes, and that the recognizable feature of my madly-curling hair was tucked respectably away under a proper cap for once.
More than anything though, I was furious.
They were keeping that brilliant, strong, beautiful man of mine fettered.
I wanted to kill them.
Three days later, Jamie Fraser escaped from Ardsmuir Prison.
I had, of course, known he would. It was why I’d come.
In 1957, (a year ago for me, and 202 years in the future for everyone else) I had told my husband, Frank that I wanted to begin medical school. He, claiming to have been driven to the last straw by what he saw as my continued insistence on believing the fairy tale that I had concocted to explain my three years away, finally sought a divorce. Able to prove that Brianna was not Frank Randall’s daughter, I had been awarded custody and had fled from Boston to the only place that I had ever found a home- Scotland.
Brianna, then nine years old, had been furious with me for never telling her. She’d loved Frank dearly, but his vitriol during the divorce had soured her feelings for him considerably. Instead, I began to tell her about her real father- the 18th century highlander who had stolen my heart and given me my soul in the form of my daughter.
It had been Brianna’s idea to confirm his death, and her tenacity that had led to me finding him alive after Cullodden.
I had confirmed his death, however. In the records of Ardsmuir there was a note:
Prisoner James Mackenzie Fraser escaped three days past. Caught on the moor, he was killed in his re-capture.
“We have to save him,” Brianna had said.
And so we had gone. Flown through time together for the second time. I had entrusted my daughter to Jenny and Ian with the promise that I would find a way to save Jamie.
What had gone unspoken but had been understood as I rode away from my daughter that day was that yes, I would save Jamie… or die trying. Giving Brianna to them had not simply been a request for my family to care for her while I was away, but the implicit acknowledgment that I was giving her to them, perhaps for good. They had accepted Jamie’s daughter without demur.
I’d spent the day that I knew he would escape carefully sifting through my herbs, preparing poultices and salves for his injuries, and packing my bags, knowing we would have to flee immediately. Mostly I was trying to keep myself busy, ears trained to every sound outside of the miniscule croft where I lived.
For all I thought I had been listening carefully, he still startled me when he arrived.
Between one breath and another, he stood in my doorway (left open to encourage the light), his shadow falling over me long and alien.
Well, this has been in very high demand so me and @alexfierrno have delivered and presented you with chapter two of our Demon/Angel AU, Reversed!!!!! Again, Alex wrote the Nico parts and I wrote the Will parts!!! I hope y’all enjoy!!!!!!
“Who are you?” one of the angels demands. He is…. different from the others. Like a smudge on their perfect world. He’s dark and his wings look menacing with their raven feathers, but there’s something else about him that I can’t place my finger on. I put on a smirk, trying my best to actually seem like a demon.
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” The boy looks like he’s about to say something, then thinks better of it. He turns to the blonde haired angel beside him. She clears her throat.
“We heard that you have information for us. Where is the angel Piper?”
“Downstairs. In your basement.”
“We know that but Hell is a big place we want a specific location–”
“It’s not just a place I can give you a map to. I don’t even have a map of Hell. But I can lead you to her.”
“Really? And why should we trust you?” The boy with black hair narrows his eyes at me and I smile, looking back at him daringly, challenging him.
“Because I’m your only hope, and you know it.” The girl looks at me disapprovingly, but nods her head.
“Alright then. Lock him up.”
“Wait what?” I say as two angels grab my arms. I try to twist out of their grip, but they won’t let me. They drag me away, the boy with the raven wings following behind. They throw me into a cell, and walk away, the boy leaning himself against the wall, watching me. I jump up, planning on getting to the bars, hoping that I have enough strength to break them, when something catches me. I fall to the floor.
“Devil’s trap,” the boy says. I look up to see the symbols painted on the ceiling. “You aren’t getting out unless we want you to.” I slump down on the floor.
“Who are you anyway?” I ask, looking like I’m inspecting my nails but watching him out of the corner of my eye.
“One of the angels,” he says simply. Something in his eyes though…. it puts me off.
“I mean what’s your name?” I say again.
“What’s your name?” he backfires.
“Why do you care? At the end of the day I’m still just demon scum.”
“Then why do you care about some angel?”
“Well then shut up.” Silence.
“Why am I in a cage?” I ask, throwing a rock at the bars. The boy cringes.
“Because you are a possible threat to us.”
“How am I a threat?” I say, batting my eyelashes innocently.
“Stupid demons,” he mutters.
“What was that? I didn’t hear you.”
“You better shut up right now.”
“Aww but we aren’t even properly acquainted.” He takes a deep breath, clenching his fists.
“Do you want my name? Fine. You can call me Nico.” Something about the name itchs at my brain, but I can’t quite figure out why.
“Will,” I say with a bow. Nico rolls his eyes.
“Please just shut up.”
“Gladly. If I can get out of this cage.”
“You will shut up unless you want to be dead.” I giggle.
“You can’t kill me. I’m your only ally.”
“Okay.” I throw a rock at his boot. He acts like nothing happened. I do it again. Still nothing. And again…..
“Honey I’m a demon. My whole being is annoying.” He blushes a little.
“You better stop before I get Annabeth in here, and trust me, you do not want Annabeth in here.” I throw another rock.
“I swear to god Will–”
“Nicholas,” somebody says from behind him. It’s the other angel from earlier. Alarms ring in my ears as I hear his full name. Now I remember where I recognized him from. I smirk.
“Zeus wants to speak to you…. And the prisoner.”
“Oh so now I’m a prisoner? I thought I was an ally,” I say. The girl looks menacingly at me.
“We’ll be right there.”
Will looked nothing like a demon.
Blond hair? Blue eyes like the sea?
Less of a demon and looked like a kid dressed up like one. But had failed majorly. What did he think he was doing?
What was Will doing above Hell anyways?
It was just Nico’s luck he was, that he just HAPPENED to be out and about.
It was probably a trap. Maybe he was stronger than he looked.
In fact Nico was sure he was, he looked too good to be a demon, he looked too human. He must be incredible powerful to first off LEAVE Hell, and second off glamour himself so much.
Besides…. His personality. He seemed demon enough.
But, if we were bringing him to Zeus…. Maybe he could figure something out. Maybe the head man would know more.
“What’s your name?” Zeus asked, stepping off his matching marble throne.
“Will- Er. William Solace.”
Solace? Sun? You gotta be kidding me.
“Right… Mortal-turned, right?"
"What do you know, about the disappearance of the angel Piper McLean?"
"Well Hades took her. And now he has her in a cage… And is probably ripping out her feathers.”
Nico turned to look at the prince, who was currently clenching his fists tightly.
“We have to go for her, right now. I’ll gather an army.” Jason said.
“We can’t just go storming into Hell, we need a plan.” Annabeth turned her attention towards Will.
“We need information."
"Hey missyy—” Will looked nervously.
“Solace,” She walked towards him, pulled out a blade, curved, runed, she placed it along his neck,
“What do you know?"
"Look. I’m only talking to him.” He turned his head, close to cutting those perfect locks on the braid, and pointed to Nico.
"You’re the heir to Hell, right? Maybe you’ll understand.” Will said.
Annabeth and Jason turned to Zeus, while Nico still was staring at the demon.
“Let him talk to Di Angelo, dismissed.” Zeus said boredly, heading back to his throne.
Jason proceeded to shove Will towards Nico, who instinctively caught him, then let go.
“Thanks.” Will grumbled, dusting himself off.
Nico raised an eyebrow, and then walked out of throne room, demon in tow.
“What were you doing out of Hell?"
"I said what were you doing out of Hell?"
"For angels, you’re not very nice.”
Nico shifted uncomfortably, sighing.
“I’m not gonna ask again. Either you tell me or I’m going to put you in that cage again."
"I was looking for you."
"Who sent you? Thanatos?"
"Hades sent me. He thought I would blend in you know?"
"Why do you look like that anyways? You’re eyes aren’t black."
"Hey. I’m supposed to be getting you out of here, so stop with the questions."