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“She never did. Before.”

Alright, the Bea/Ava run away fight. Let’s do this thing!

Rewatch #??? I notice how damn quickly in universe they go from fighting Adriel to this conversation. Like, Lilith and Ava fight, Mother dies, Ava resurrects her, the go for a shower and change of clothes then sit down for tea to discuss the miracle of resurrection and how two of their friends are probably dead. That’s when Bea says fuck prayers. Important to note how they sit down for tea. With Bea and Ava at exact opposite ends. Cinematographically this sets up the conversation visually, that they are already looking in different directions (literally). Story wise it shows how distant Bea is feeling from Ava in the wake of her decision. Bea then storms out because “who are we even praying to anyway.” 

This is actually really fucking significant and has been for some time. Beatrice has been doubting her faith in a number of super important ways. Admittedly most of them around her growing feelings of Ava. And because those doubts tie into that which she cannot allow to exist (big gay feelings) Bea has been avoiding the hell out of this conversation. Even when she was drunk and they were leaving the Bar Bea approached the topic of her faith and what Adriel means to it only a tiny bit before she shut it down. 

Ava knows this is an important conversation. One that has been some time in coming. So when she follows Bea outside the first thing she says is “Beatrice, talk to me.” And Bea does. 

She goes right to the heart of herself. “I let my emotions blind me to my mission.” Aka I let what I want *now* blind me to what I *should* want. Ava tries to address the explicit concern by pointing out how Bea saved her life. And Beatrice repeats herself explicitly with the addition of what ‘could have’ been better if she had done what she *should* have wanted and not what she *actually* wanted. Again, Ava talks about what Bea explicitly said and not what she implied. Pointing out that what ‘could have’ been better only happens if Ava dies in that scenario. 

This is not the first time they’ve done this. Their first fight was “excuse the fuck out of me” about exactly the same thing. Bea is so focused on what *should* be she ignores what it would *actually* mean for Ava. Ava’s far more grounded in reality (ironic considering the whole levitation thing). In the first argument Ava was able to point out that Ava and her happiness are the necessary sacrifices for Bea’s perfect *should*. 

Bea doesn’t acknowledge that point at all because it’s not actually what she ever wants to think about, thanks. She instead ‘clarifies’ what she’s saying by pointing out they’re only ‘delaying the inevitable’. What’s the inevitable, Bea? Because as much as you pretend you are, you’re not actually talking about fighting Adriel right now. You’re talking about having prioritized your wants over what is expected of you. And if what’s expect of you is ‘inevitable’ I wanna talk to your parents with a baseball bat.  Ava’s starting to get it at this point. 🥹 She’s giving off huge confused puppy dog eyes. She’s starting to realize there’s two conversations happening right now. “The Beatrice I know never stops fighting. Never looses hope.” She’s telling Beatrice she’s not acting like herself. That the Beatrice she knows would fight for a better way even if it meant not putting the crown first. That the Beatrice she knows fights to keep Ava safe. Fights to open up and let down her guard because Ava asked.

Beatrice agrees from the exact opposite direction. “No. She never did. Before.” She’s saying she changed because she put Ava first. Because she put Ava’s safety above the world’s and her love before her duty. Who she was Before didn’t love anyone like she loves Ava now. Who she was Before would leave Shannon to die in order to protect the halo. Who she was Before would risk Camila’s life and her own for the mission. Before means, clearly, Before she developed feelings for Ava. (Potentially before she knew Ava at all because her first action against that idealized version of Beatrice was returning to Cat’s Cradle to protect Ava and help Mary despite orders telling her to fuck right off as politely as she’d told Duretti to do so).

“You said we’d stop him our way.” (Italics from Netflix’s subtitles, which holy fuck) “Together.” Ava would her Bea back, please. She has spent months with that as her only Bea and this version is scary and closed off. Tellingly Ava then says “there’s always something else we can do.” She’s asking Bea to find an option with her. Any option that keeps Bea with her.  “There is nothing else you can do.” (Italics mine for emphasis) “Run. Hide.” And oh, oh, Beatrice shows she’s maybe not as changed as she’s hoping. Because if “our only priority now is to keep the halo out of Adriel’s hands” then Ava running off and hiding by herself is… kinda dumb? Like if running and hiding were the winning (or only) strategy right now then someone should go with Ava. And if fighting Adriel is something that someone needs to stay behind it should be Ava. The one with the superpowers literally chosen to do so. ‘Run away, hide and be safe while stay behind and do my duty’ is, like, such an emotionally repressed dumb ass idea actually.  This is when Ava advances, asking Bea to run with her, asking for Beatrice to be her Beatrice. And Bea puts her walls up instead. Denies Ava without further explanation. Keeps her arms crossed despite Ava have gotten into arms length. Despite Ava blinking away tears and looking like she’s about to cry for the first time in Beatrice’s vicinity without Beatrice holding her. Despite Ava playing with her own hands and literally holding herself back from reaching out.

I am a normal amount of sane about this. For reference, that’s horrible gutted and ready to throw things at my tv.

Ava, bouncing cheerfully: Morning Cam! 

Beatrice, bleary eyed and stumbling: Good morning.

Camila: Morning Ava! Morning Beatrice. You look awful, did something happen?

Beatrice, sighing and resting her face on her hand: Ava woke me up at four in the morning and I couldn’t get back to sleep.

Camila, slight scandalized: Should we be talking about this in public?

Ava, laughing: It’s fine, it was just one of those random questions. Y’know.

Camila, curious: Then why could Bea get back to sleep?

Beatrice, exhausted: I couldn’t decide if she had a good point or not. Technically, no. But also technically, yes. Depending on a scientific or mythological context.

Ava, curious: It took you all night to decide the answer was both yes and no?

Beatrice, sighing: No, it took me all night to *not* decide if I found it hotter if you were right or hotter if the question was dumb. I still can’t decide.

Ava: Are lobsters mermaids to scorpions? Beatrice: Ava, it’s four in the morning

Beatrice blinks awake, everything hurts. Feeling groggy and confused she looks up at a woman fiddling with an i.v in her arm.

What is her old housekeeper doing here?

"Rosita?" She mumbles, "Where am I? What are you doing here? I haven't seen you since my parents fired you for letting me out of the basement a week early. Gosh, Father was so furious after you left, I hadn't seen him that angry in a while. It didn't help that he was already angry about my grades, that was a horrible night. "

Shuddering at the memory, she pushes it back into the large box of traumatic experiences in her mind.

Despite this, Beatrice strangely feels the need to share everything about that particular incident with Rosita, so she resumes her account.

"Mother had to take me to a clinic that time, instead of a home visit from Dr. Evil," Beatrice chuckles over her nickname of her parents' cruel medical associate.

She continues her ramble, "Father protested of course but there was a lot of blood so I think she was actually worried. Although, I suspect she just wanted me in top form for the upcoming gala. Anyway, it turns out he cracked a rib and I got to stay in bed for a week, which wasn't so bad." Beatrice remembers that week being extremely painful but peaceful. While her parents didn't allow her the prescribed pain medication, at least they left her alone.

"But they still starved me as punishment, and I really missed you sneaking food for me, the woman who was hired after you was too afraid of my parents. Not that I blame her of course, they were quite terrible p-" looking up Beatrice abruptly cuts off her rambling, realizing as the haze of anesthesia passes, this was not Rosita, her kind, sweet, protective housekeeper from her childhood.

This was a nurse that she did not know, who she just divulged one of her more painful memories to - which was supposed to stay a secret, who is now looking at her in alarm and bewildered confusion. The nurse glances to her left and Beatrice freezes, stomach dropping. She registers frighteningly that they were not alone in the room. Slowly, Beatrice turns her head and takes in her friends, her family's expressions, which ranges from surprise, to sadness, to disgust and most of all anger. Nobody says anything and the silence is deafening.

The blood was pounding in her ears. Her heart started thudding in her chest. Her hands began to shake.

This was not supposed to happen. Beatrice was not to speak of these matters to anybody. Those memories were to stay her shameful painful secret. How could she do this? Now they knew.

She couldn’t look at them anymore so she turned away and shut her eyes. It was getting hard to breathe. Really hard.

Oh no, she thought, this is the worst possible time.

Needing something grounding, Beatrice dug her nails into her palms and tried to catch her breath using her usual exercise to no avail. Her chest was tight and she was starting to sweat from her eyes.

Suddenly, there were hands on her face and she opened her eyes to a tearful Ava, worried anger in her eyes.

"Beatrice! Breathe. You need to breathe, Bea. It's okay, you're safe. Breathe, Bea please."

"Ava," She gasps out "I'm sorr-"

"Shh it's okay Bea, you're safe. I promise. We're here for you. " Ava assures in a whisper. "Just try to breathe for me please"

But she can't. It's too much. Now that it's out there, those days are all she can think about. The box erupts and the memories spill out. Her father's angry disappointment and her mother's negligent apathy fill her mind. Reliving every painful moment, every strike, every meal missed, every punishing isolation in total darkness.

Distantly, Beatrice hears Ava desperately calling out to her. She tries to respond but nothing comes out.

The not-Rosalita nurse returns in her eye line to stick a syringe into her i.v. Beatrice immediately feels the effects, pulse slowing, breathing comes easier. Feeling her eyes start to shut, the last thing she sees is Ava haloed by the lights above before she falls into darkness.

28!

Beatrice is tired.

She carries a weariness that settles in her body, a bone-deep ache that wakes her most mornings. There are days where it hurts to open her eyes, stings when she breaths. Her hands, once her greatest weapon, seem to be her greatest weakness now. She drops things, can’t quite grasp them between her fingers. Her body tightens as she bends to pick them up, just to lose them again.

She is getting old. And she is tired.

She spends her days in the east wing and her nights in the west. She likes to track the path of the sun, seeing each day pass in a slow progression as it climbs higher and higher in the sky until finally, like her, it sinks back down into the horizon to fight for another day. She hurts more on the sun-less days when the clouds push at the windows, threatening to break them. But then the sun comes up again, she walks from the east to the west, and she says a prayer for another day.

At night, she dreams. Always the same one, always the same place. She’s back in that small apartment, stretched out on a lumpy mattress with her toes nearly hanging off the end. A blanket is pulled over her head and the air is hot and there’s hair sticking to her cheeks, but she is smiling and Ava-

Ava is always there. Ava is always smiling back at her.

Beatrice is old. And she is yearning.

“Bea,” a voice whispers.

Ava is here. Ava is smiling at her.

A hand curls around hers, strong fingers dancing over the peaks and valleys. Beatrice follows it for a moment, lost in the feeling, before she remembers Ava is the one the fingers lead to. She inhales, lungs aching at the pressure.

“Ava.”

Ava’s smile widens. “I always liked the way you said my name. Have I ever told you that?”

No, but she knew.

Ava walks her fingers over the thin skin of Beatrice’s wrist. “You grew up,” she says casually. “But I always thought older women were hot, you know?” She grins, all teeth. “Not that you were ever not hot. With and without the whole nun get-up. You were a… wait, I remember hearing this once…” Her forehead wrinkles as she thinks. “A smoke show?”

Beatrice laughs. “I don’t know.”

Ava shrugs, uncaring, but her voice quiets. “It’s been a while.”

“I grew up.”

Then Ava’s smile is just as quiet. “I tried, you know. I- I fought, every day. To come back to you. You know that, right?”

Beatrice drops her weathered hand over Ava’s. “I know you did.” She shifts in her seat, the soft back of the armchair she’s picked today easing the ache. “I know you would have if you could have.”

“I guess it’s the next for us, yeah?” Ava let’s go of her hand, settles for leaving her fingers curled in the soft sweater Beatrice chose today. “I just kind of hoped it was this one.”

There’s a million things she wants to say. It was this one for her. And it’ll be the next for both of them. But her thoughts get tangled, the words knot in her mouth, and a yawn escapes, unbidden.

Beatrice is old. And she is tired.

Ava’s eyes watch her curiously. “How long has it been since you’ve slept?” She strokes a hand down over the curve of Beatrice’s cheek. “You’re never good at taking care of yourself.”

Beatrice tries to remember, but she can’t. Maybe the last time she rested was years ago, tucked into the Swiss Alps and Ava’s side. Maybe it’s been that long, the peace in those moments never following her through the days and months and years since Ava. But Ava looks at her as if she knows.

“Come on.” Ava’s eyes, honeyed in sunlight, sparkle. “For old times sake?”

Ava doesn’t have to ask; Beatrice will say yes to anything, if it means Ava will stay close. It takes effort, bones creaking, but she manages to shuffle to the side, create a bit of space for Ava to slide in next to her, fitting their bodies together as if they were never apart.

She sighs, the tiredness ebbing away as a contentedness takes its place.

“Sleep, Bea.” A hand strokes into her hair, scratches lightly at her scalp. “And in the morning, we’ll be in the next.”

Beatrice, alone in her chair, closes her eyes for the last time.

Aight, you asked. 

Beatrice’s faith is shaken after Ava. Not even after loosing Ava, just after Ava. But without Ava there she has nothing to steady her. She spends a couple months while still at the OCS working closely with the priests and decides that’s where her faith calls her now. Working closely with people, helping them from beside them, living in community with them. Away from the eternal fight physically and closer spiritually. She changes from being a nun to being a priest, from Sister to Father. She’s assigned a small community that experienced a truly bad prior priest. Not as punishment, but as Hope. They need her and right now, she needs to be needed. Over six months the community warms up to her. They don’t like the word ‘father’ anymore so she offers to let them call her ‘padre’. She’s kind. Reserved, almost shy, extremely private and incredibly endlessly kind. They get used to seeing her running around and encouraging everyone to attend her self-defence or languages or study groups. Things are good, Bea’s living. 

 But Bea’s gonna Bea. So when she sees some black cars with obvious mercenaries pull through her town, she follows them. And when they stop at the small house of a single mother and her pre-teen son (quiet people she’s worked hard to connect with) so does she. She knocks on the door and one thick necked man tells her to leave. She smiles politely and explains she’s here for her flock, gestures at the scared mother holding her son protectively behind her.  Another man, one with wealth dripping off him, orders her away. She smiles even more politely and says there’s only one person whose orders she obeys (Ava). The mother, desperate, begs her to get the cops before they take her son. Bea says they won’t be doing that. That they could do this the easy way or the hard way. The mercenary, goaded by his boss, slaps her across the face. She smiles up at him with bloody teeth and say “god forgive me, but I was hoping you’d pick the hard way.” Then she beats the everloving fuck out of them one by one. She uses the crowded room to prevent them from reaching for guns, focuses on one until he’s truly down before doing more than dodging the rest. The boss is the one that pulls a gun, threatening to shoot her once his goons are down. He does the whole “i’ll shoot” and she says “why would I doubt? Faith is my business.” Then she dodges, grabs him by the gun hand, punches him unconscious, and kicks him in the junk before releasing his hand and gun. 

She takes a moment to wipe off her bloody face (some hers, mostly not) and think about how much easier it is to fight people who aren’t possessed. Then she turns and asks the mother and son if they’re ok. It’s only then she sees the son was secretly recording everything. She’s pretty sure she’s loosing her touch because she’s been retired too long. The video goes viral. ‘battle priest’ and ‘padre punch’ are tossed about far too much for her liking. Maybe she has a talk with they boy about him thinking she said violence was never a solution and clarifies what she said (gently teasing him about not paying attention during sermon) about how violence should be the last answer. How it’s sometimes a necessity because god wants them to live (Ava wants Bea to live).

The gang that was trying to grab the boy decide they need to end the myth that is Father Beatrice. They threaten her town unless she willing comes to fight them alone. She does. They film this because they don’t need her to die, they need her legend to die with her. They need everyone to see she’s human. They beat her up and have her on her knees, gun to head, and ask if she has any last words. She looks up at the sky and says her last words. “You were right, I can live. I know this is me joining you a little quicker than planned but I don’t regret anything. In this life, now the next.” The gun’s hammer clicks back and a blue portal splits the space between a kneeling Beatrice and the guns aimed at her. A halo of golden light flares out, tossing everyone away and only causing a small breeze to blow through Bea’s hair. The halo becomes a person, floating off the ground. The camera catches Beatrice say something pundits will later say is “Ave”, or ‘hail’ in Latin. Father Beatrice reaches up in what feels like slow motion to catch the falling Angel. The gang refund their feet (those who can). Some pause when they seen the Angel, the one from Adriel, cradled reverently in Bea’s arm. The leader whips them into a fury, saying ‘what is an Angel to us? We are devils!” They go to shoot Beatrice again and she puts her body protectively over Ava’s.

The sky opens up again. This portal is red and fiery, this winged person is no Angel but the opposite. Lilith flies out, takes a look at the group threatening her best friend and says “Hell’s done waiting for you boys” then she murders everyone. Except Bea and Ava. “Is she hurt?” She asks when she’s finished. 

Bea shakes her head. “No. I think she’s just exhausted from whatever she did to get here. I’d like to get her to a hospital anyway, just to make sure.”

Lilith snorts. “i’d like to get you to a hospital, Father Beatrice,” she teases. “l think you’ve gone soft during your retirement,” she looks around, “I’ve seen you fight more demons than this with far less wounds.”

Beatrice shrugs. “I had a good team then,” she explains. “And I didn’t need to fight according to man’s rules. Just God’s.”

Lilith rolls her eyes. “enough with your excuses padre. Let’s get the two of you some professional help.” Then she grabs Bea’s arm and portals them back to the OCS. The world, watching via the still running camera, is shook. 

Ava, waking up with a muddled memory of her time on the other side to Beatrice as a priest, is shook. Beatrice laughs until she cries when Ava blinks open her eyes and her first words, after looking Bea up and down, are “new kink successfully unlocked”

no seriously, is there no avatrice request from yall?

COME ON GAYS I know i've mentioned my posting will be SLOW bc of my study doesn't mean I'VE STOPPED DOING IT

GIVE ME PROMPTS, IDEAS, AU OR WHATEVERR. my brain is not working!

‘‘i was all alone with the love of my life, she’s got glitter for skin, my radiant beam in the night. i don’t need no light to see you.’’

Holy shit! @elizabethgoudge​! I had never actually watch Alba interview until now!! What the fuck?! She is so much more serious and earnest. But as Ava she just embodies the joy of living! But as Alba it’s a very ‘I’m on duty’ vibe. 

@strongwomenunited​ you are absolutely correct! This is some god tier casting!

The casting director (probably): “Hey, wouldn’t it be hilarious if we made the *actual* sunshine puppy play the straight laced serious midnight kitty? And if we made the *actual* might kitty play the adorably energetic and beaming sunshine puppy?”

Simon Barry (probably): “Ha! Yeah, it would be. Let’s do it.”

Can we also talk about the fact that Sister Beatrice, this badass free-wheeling secret ass kicking nun is the very first role Kristina Tonteri-Young has played??? How many actresses do you know that have accomplished playing a role like this, that is beloved by many, as their first time acting? Right out of college. That’s crazy to me. Imagine what she could do later in her career. Maybe she’ll be the new Michelle Yeoh or Charlize Theron.

Not my tiktok. Just loved the video. Go give that person some love.

Okay, but! I have ideas now. 

Ava tags along with Beatrice because Beatrice is retrieving “The true crown” from the kingdom of the Gods. Ava doesn’t want that, she wants something else. It’s in the same place so Beatrice lets her come. Beatrice talks with the Gods and is very convincing for why the ‘true crown’ should be returned to the mortals. Then one Goddess comes in all flustered. Ava’s stolen something that belongs to them. Ava’s stolen the Spark of Life. With the Spark in human hands all humans will heal faster, better. They will heal without potion or magic or science. Beatrice is having such a face palm moment because this idiot. But also, she loves this idiot very much and the Gods are preparing to go hunt her down and kill her. Beatrice could let them. Could walk out of there with the ‘true crown’ and win the competition definitively. All it would cost is Ava. 

Beatrice uses even skill and all the daring she possesses. “Our plan worked then,” she says calmly and the Gods freeze. Like, unhumanely still.

“Your plan?” The Council of Gods Voice asks dangerously. 

Beatrice scoffs and fiddle with the crown in her hands. It’s beautiful. The jewel on it sparkles like there’s a sun buried inside. “Of course. You didn’t think I came just for this trinket, did you?” She is lying her ass off to all the Gods her people worship to save the life of someone who thinks she hates them. A new low, but she’s used to finding those when it comes to Ava. 

War places a hand on her weapon. Justice bares her teeth. Knowledge shakes her head in disappointment. “You have to know this doesn’t end well for you mortal.” The Voice of the Gods whispers. 

Beatrice boxes away all her fear and all her hesitation. She keeps out only her pure burning drive to keep Ava safe. She looks up to meet the eyes of the Gods, one by one. “I know how mortals challenge Gods,” she says as she spins the Crown in her hands. The True Crown that King Benjamin had lost while challenging the Gods for the city of Atlantis. It’s an old story and one she researched diligently before choosing her item. 

The Gods had decided the city of Atlantis had sinned too heavily and too often. They sent portents that the city would be destroyed. Atlantis itself had sent a challenger to the Gods. A trial, their champion against any three Gods at any three games. The winner would decide Atlantis’ fate and keep the True Crown. The Gods accepted. The mortal won the first game, then the second, and finally the third. The mortals had won and King Benjamin, in his ego, had bragged. He’d thought them safe as Gods were bound by the Heavens to honour the wager. War had gotten upset enough to lash out, knowing it was futile. The blow landed. The Heavens did not protect Atlantis from the fury of a God and in doing so laid King Benjamin’s trickery bare. The mortal champion was in fact one of five identical siblings who had switched out with each other in order to win their games. The Crown was taken and Atlantis destroyed within the hour. King Benjamin was exiled and his line shamed. Not for tricking the Gods but for letting his ego and pride reveal it. 

Beatrice arches an eyebrow, taunting the proud beings before her. “Or do you think you’ll fail?”

***

Ava arrives back at the capital with guilt eating at her heart. She should have told Beatrice. Should have let Beatrice prepare somehow. But she couldn’t, not when Beatrice was going to face the Gods and ask them directly for the item she was after. And she couldn’t wait for Beatrice to do so. The Gods were distracted, it was the best opportunity Ava had. Ava is, faintly, surprised that the Gods have not tracked her down yet. 

She’d ran as fast and as true as she could to return to the capital before they caught her. So long as she longed her item as retrieved they wouldn’t be able to take it back. Bound by the Heavens to honour how the humans chosen their ruler. Her… well, she was prepared for them to catch her. As long as humanity got to keep the Spark of Life it was worth it. Some things matter more. 

She hoped Beatrice understood. One day.

***

The Trial of Rulers formally ends when all contests have returned, given up, or died. It takes a month after Ava’s return for Beatrice to make it back through the main gate of the capital. She looks the same as when she left. Shoulders back with confidence and pride, gaze steady. If she’s uncertain about being the last contestant to return she doesn’t show it. 

Ava’s uncertain about it. Unable to draw her eyes away from how Beatrice stands placidly in line with the other contests at the Grand Reveal. The part where every contestant steps forward and declares the item they brought back and how it will better their people. The ultimate act of the Trial of Rulers and the one that matters most. Kings and Queens are judged throughout history for what they bring. Legends are made here, on this stage. 

Ava nudges her hand against Beatrice’s and Beatrice grabs then releases Ava’s in silent comfort. Ava’s shoulders relax and she feels the odd sense of burning where there should be none. 

“Ava Silva,” calls the Queen, “what did you bring to your people.”

Ava steps forward at the cue, straightening her stance. Not with pride, but success. “From the Gods themselves, I have brought the Spark of Life.”

The Queen nods and says, “Beatri-wait. What?!”

Ava smiles at the growingly shocked faces in front of her. “The Spark of Life!” She shouts louder as though she’d been unheard. 

“But, how?” The Queen protests even as the watching crowd begins to murmur. 

Ava grins. “Quickly.” Beatrice stifles a chuckle beside and behind her. 

The Queen scowls and raises her hands for quiet. The crowd disgruntledly obeys. “Beatrice Xin, dear niece, what did you bring to your people.”

Beatrice steps up, face neutral. “Nothing,” she says. 

The Queen’s eyes narrow, the crowd murmurs again. “Excuse me?”

“I brought nothing,” Beatrice repeats steadily. Ava furrows her eyebrows. She’d been certain that she saw Beatrice holding something gold and shinning in the Council chamber as she was sneaking out.

The Queen opens then closes her mouth. She tilts her head questioningly and Beatrice nods. The Queen blinks, slowly, almost mournfully and turns to address the next contestant. 

Warm, rich laughter rings out through the stadium. It feels like a mother’s hug on a sad day. Love steps from behind Beatrice like she’s always been there, hidden in Beatrice’s shadow. She drops an arm across Beatrice’s steady shoulder and meets Ava’s narrowed glare with a smirk. “That’s not exactly true, now is it dear girl?”

Beatrice frowns at the Goddess twined about her. “I have nothing for my people.” She repeats. 

Love pouts and walks her fingers up Beatrice’s shoulder to pull her cheek. Ava glares harder. “I must say, you truly impressed me with your performance. Heavens, you impressed all of us. Except, perhaps for Truth.” Love says thoughtfully, pivoting closely around Beatrice’s body to escape Ava’s murderous stare. 

“Performance, Your Holiness?” The Queen asks.

“Oh?” The Goddess gasps dramatically, “our dear girl didn’t tell you?” Love raises a hand to her mouth, as though she didn’t know full well Beatrice had told no one. “And after such a compelling showing, for shame dear girl.” Love tsks in clearly faked disappointment. 

“I know what your doing and it won’t work,” Beatrice whispers stoically. 

Love nudges her head under Beatrice’s chin with a purr. “It already has, dear girl.” She whispers back loud enough for Ava to hear it. Ava unclenches her hands long enough to shake the blood from her palms and takes a half step closer.

“Well, I suppose it would be a shame for humanity to have it’s hero go unsung,” Love says to the crowd. “Especially one as handsome as this.” She trails the tips of her fingers down the middle of Beatrice’s chest with a suggestive wink. 

Ava crowds up to Beatrice’s elbow and growls at the Goddess. “Haven’t you ever heard of personal space?”

Love laughs again, like hot cocoa on a cold day, and spins to put Beatrice’s arm around her shoulders on Beatrice’s other side. “This lovely mortal came right up to our Godly gates, pretty as you please,” Love says. “She asked for entrance, as one should. Consent is soo sexy.” Love purrs and rubs herself against Beatrice. She kindly ignores the fingers Ava jabs into her from the hand around the back of Beatrice’s waist. “Our dear girl wanted to talk with the Council of Gods about the True Crown. We were hesitant at first but she talked her way into our hearts.” Love flutters her eyelashes up at Beatrice adoringly.

“How does someone kill a god,” Ava growls lowly, “asking for a friend.” Beatrice fights off a smile. 

“She was very, very persuasive and soon denuded us of our, hmm, better sense.” Love tickles at the red flush on Beatrice’s cheeks. 

“Please stop making it sound so suggestive,” Beatrice asks. 

Love giggles and it feels like a lovers kiss against a bare back. “So we foolish Gods gave up our Crown to her.” Beatrice flushes deeper at the insinuation. “Only to discover, as all foolish lovers do, that our dear girl was not as faithful to us as we’d thought. For while she distracted us with pretty words and her,” Love caresses the muscle on Beatrice’s forearms, “handsome form her partner had snuck inside our house and stolen our glowing golden light.”

Ava, half behind Beatrice and full shoving against the Goddess, stops. Beatrice didn’t have a partner (she checked). Ava had travelled to the city of Gods alone with Beatrice. The Spark of Life hums into golden glowing existence from between Ava’s shoulder blades where it hid. They blamed Beatrice for Ava’s theft?

Love places a gentle kiss against Beatrice’s shoulder and winks down at Ava. “We were, understandably, quite put out that our dear girl chose this little scamp over us. The day, we’d thought, was one of broken hearts.” The watching crowd shivered, made aware by divine ability that it as less emotionally broken hearts and more physically rended and torn ones. “Until our dear, brave girl decided that the Wrath of Gods was best met with a,” Love licks her lips, “challenge.”

The crowd pales. The Queen takes a single unconscious step backwards. Ava sticks her arm in the middle of the Goddess and Beatrice in an attempt to lever herself between them. Love lets Ava nudge her away from Beatrice but pulls Ava away with her. 

“Niece, you didn’t?” The Queen asks aghast. 

Beatrice meets her aunt’s eyes calmly. Never spark a conflict until you know the odds, Ava remembers Beatrice telling her. “I did what I had to,” Beatrice says peacefully.

Love laughs and it sounds like a grandfather’s amusement as seeing his grandchild experience the first marvels of living. “Oh don’t worry,” she waves a relaxing hand at the tense populous. “She didn’t risk you.” Love turn her eyes to Ava who shivers and feels her back throb with stolen divinity. “Beside, Love makes fools of us all.” Ava swallows dryly. 

“What did you lose?” The Queen asks her niece. 

Love makes a thoughtful noise. “Dignity, mostly,” she eyes Ava up and down. Ava scoffs and Beatrice turns away to repress her smile. “But I suspect she was always going to lose that.” Love smiles and the sun gleams brighter. “Rejoice mortals, for the first time in all recorded history (and before) your champion has won the challenge against the Gods!”

The despair in the Queen’s eyes turns to greed. She licks her lips nervously. “What did you win?”

Love grabs Ava by the scruff her neck and lifts her easily with one hand. Ava dangles awkwardly, feet kicking at air. “Your prize, dear girl.” Love says as she holds Ava out to Beatrice. Beatrice opens her arms and accepts Ava completely. “May it serve you well,” Love purrs with a saucy wink. Then Love steps forward and disappears into the shadow behind Beatrice and Ava’s combined bodies. 

“As I said,” Beatrice says as she holds Ava easily in her arms. “I brought nothing for my people.” She tightens her arms around Ava. Ava snuggles her face into Beatrice’s neck and grins. She’d been telling Beatrice she should do more things for her and it was nice to see Beatrice finally do so. 

For the challenges: perhaps a small pilgrimage, where each contestant has to retrieve something they believe is lacking and will be valuable to the land (think Athena and Poseidon's gifts to Athens; also they have to present it, there's a ceremony and speeches, it's a whole event). Maybe B's parents want her to retrieve a long lost family jewel and present it to her aunt to remind her they are family, but she fails the quest, because it's either it or whatever Ava's bringing (maybe a manuscript for a cure or some invention that would be helpful to the people) and she decides it's much more important to help Ava AND their people, than to make nice to her family.

Good luck with the idea, hope you get around to writing it!

anon you are genius THIS IS PERFECT for like the final test and maybe the entire reason Ava joins in the first place is that if she gets to this stage it’s the monarch who funds their trip to retrieve said item so all Ava wants to do is help. also maybe bea does go get the jewel but somehow meets Ava in between like 10 times and they have to help each other maybe bea gives up the jewel to keep Ava safe in a knife to throat situation. THANKS

Hahahaha, I can just imagine her advisors arguing which they like better and she’s “hmmm, tough to decide, they’re both so good.” And Camilla (as ship Captain) is like “what if?” And smashes her hands together in a kissy motion. “Yes, perfect! let’s do that!” Only no one but the Queen was looking and they’re all too scared to admit it.

For the challenges: perhaps a small pilgrimage, where each contestant has to retrieve something they believe is lacking and will be valuable to the land (think Athena and Poseidon's gifts to Athens; also they have to present it, there's a ceremony and speeches, it's a whole event). Maybe B's parents want her to retrieve a long lost family jewel and present it to her aunt to remind her they are family, but she fails the quest, because it's either it or whatever Ava's bringing (maybe a manuscript for a cure or some invention that would be helpful to the people) and she decides it's much more important to help Ava AND their people, than to make nice to her family.

Good luck with the idea, hope you get around to writing it!

anon you are genius THIS IS PERFECT for like the final test and maybe the entire reason Ava joins in the first place is that if she gets to this stage it’s the monarch who funds their trip to retrieve said item so all Ava wants to do is help. also maybe bea does go get the jewel but somehow meets Ava in between like 10 times and they have to help each other maybe bea gives up the jewel to keep Ava safe in a knife to throat situation. THANKS

AVA and SISTER BEATRICE + S1 QUOTES Warrior Nun (2020-) dir. Simon Barry

It would have been fine, if not for the prophecy. Ava hates very few things but the prophecy is definitely one of them. Before the prophecy Shannon was Aunt Suzanne’s heir. All the responsibility for leading the kingdom fell on her. Ava spent her days roaming around doing whatever pleased her in the moment. Painting at the coast one week and learning a Gallien flourish to disarm an armed opponent the next. The world was hers and she relished it. Then the Oracle interpreted the prophecy. 

Ava is to be the next Queen and she will lead the kingdom to prosperity unseen in a dozen generations. No pressure. Aunt Suzanne looks as disbelieving as Ava’s sure she, herself, does. This wasn’t good. “Together with the steadfast love of her King by her side, Queen Ava will be an unstoppable force for good.” The Oracle says and Ava’s stomach drops straight through the floor and the cellar beneath it. 

“Fuck, the Hell, no.” Ava whispers. It was bad enough that she was being collared into a crown but this was the last nail in the coffin of her freedom. She could see Aunt Suzanne knew it too, judging by her guilty expression. Whatever freedom Ava had to choose her own spouse has just died ignobly in front of them. 

It’s Shannon who tells Ava what the Council’s decision is. Her sad eyes convey how much Shannon wishes she didn’t have to. “They’ve decided on a Grand Melee. The winner will earn your hand in marriage.” 

Ava grinds her teeth together, thinking furiously. “How many contestants?” She knows the Lords would try to stack the contest to maximize the chance of their child being the one that wins. The debate around the cut off must have been deadly.

Shannon grimaces. “They tried to narrow it to ten.” Ava grimaces back. She’s well acquainted with the most likely ten and none hold any appeal for her. “Aunt Suzanne insisted that anything but an open contest would be an attempt to control fate and doomed to backfire horribly.”

An idea sparks in Ava’s mind. A stupid enough it might just work idea. “There’s no limit?”

Shannon nods. She bites her lip then offers, “if you want Mary could-”

“No,” Ava cuts off her cousin. She knows where Shannon’s heart had lain for years. Knows also that Mary was too low of station, too foreign, to ever be allowed to marry the Crown Princess. Shannon’s not the Crown Princess anymore and has a chance now at the freedom that always brought Ava happiness. “But I am going to need her help. And yours?”

Shannon nods immediately, shoulders untensing. “You have it, Ava. Whatever you need.”

***

“This is a stupid idea and you should be ashamed for agreeing to help.” Mary says as she scowls at the woman she loves. 

Shannon shrugs, shamelessly uncaring. “It’s actually kind of brilliant,” she says. “There was nothing in the prophecy that counteracts the idea.”

“Except the whole King thing,” Mary deadpans. 

“I mean,” Ava protests from where she’s trying to get out of one set of armour. “It’s more implied than stated that Queen Ava isn’t also, y’know, King Ava.” Distracted from her tasks of squirming out of armour, Ava unbalances and lands on the ground with a thud. “Fuck! Little help?”

Mary sighs and starts helping Ava out of the armour. “This is going to backfire on us so bad, I just know it.” She grumbles. 

Shannon smiles and nudges at Mary’s shoulder. “Does that mean you won’t help us?”

Mary scowls at Shannon in offence. “Babe, I’d help you fight the moon. I just want to be able to say I told you so when it does, inevitably, blow up in our faces.”

Shannon giggles and places the most gentle kiss she can against her lover’s lips. Thrilling as she always does at this new ability. “Thank you.” The two blush at each other like school girls with their first crush.

“Why’s it so dark?” Comes Ava’s muffled voice. “Am I upside down? Guys, help!”

***

The armour they’d finally selected covered Ava completely. They’d forgone full plate (”Aww, but I’d be invincible,” Ava had protested. “Yeah,” Mary snorted agreement, “to everyone but yourself.”) in favour of more flexible chain mail. If Shannon hadn’t help Ava put on the armour herself she’d never imagine that the Crown Princess was the one standing in it. This was the first day of competitions and all over the kingdom groups as large as this one were gathering to fight for the right to be Ava’s King. Shannon watched impassively from the screened throne Ava was supposed to be sitting in. She was thankful Aunt Suzanne was still feeling too guilty to actually talk to Ava or their ruse would be discovered far too quickly. 

Shannon was trained diligently in fighting as it was unbecoming of a heir to not be able to do so. She is, objectively, one of the greatest knights their kingdom has. Mary could match her only with her weird machines. She’d never sparred with her little cousin. Always too busy with other responsibilities. Shannon chews at her lip and prays to the Goddess Reya that Ava at least knows how to fight. 

Ava does know how to fight. Kind of. Shannon can’t pick a single concrete style out of the eclectic mix of moves Ava uses. There’s a certain brutal minimalism to the foundation of it that Shannon doesn’t expect. It takes two days and four fights before she realizes it’s because Ava never learned formally. What she’s seeing is every move that looked cool enough to learn combined with Ava’s general mouthiness picking way more street fights than a princess should be in. It’s very… Ava.

The preliminary rounds last a week. Ava dominates the smaller competition that occurs in the small town close to the Royal Summer Palace. The heavier competition has likely all gathered at the Capital where the finals will be held. The smarter competitors will have spread to other cities as the top winner of every town and city as well as the top five at the Capital will advance to the finals. Shannon and Mary will three weeks, minus two days of travel, to cram as much structure into Ava’s fighting style as they can before the finals start. 

***

Ava sees Micheal only after she came into the competitor’s mess hall. She’d felt confident without her obscuring helmet and armour because “it’s not like anyone knows me here, Shan. I’ll be fine.” Except there was Micheal Fucking Salvius, her best fucking friend who should not be in a competition to marry her.  She ducks behind the nearest set of broad shoulders she sees. There are an awful lot of broad shoulders here and in any other circumstances Ava would be eyeing the room up like an all she could eat smorgasbord. It’s a lot less appealing when she no longer has the option to not partake. 

Ava pops her head up, half behind her hand and half curled in to the straight backed form beside her. She glances away from watching for Micheal to look up into amused brown eyes and freckles and oh goddess, she’s pretty. 

“Can I help you?” The woman asks with soft openness. 

Ava grins, unconsciously leaning closer even though she’s already in the woman’s personal space bubble. “Sorry, just trying to avoid a, uh, ex.”

The woman nods solemnly in understanding. “I imagine it would be difficult deal with someone who doesn’t know how to let go.”

Ava draws her eyebrows together. “Why do you think he doesn’t know how to let go?”

Laughter twinkles in those alluring brown eyes. “Who could ever let you go?”

Ava gasps with delight feeling the fine hairs on her body stand up at attention. She’s flirted before, of course she has. And she’s been flirted with. Far to many times for her position, power, or wealth over her body. Since she started this ruse almost two weeks ago people had viewed her as the poor mercenary attempting to reach beyond her station. She’s been dismissed and demeaned and threatened. She’s been scorned and propositioned for sex in the same conversation (if it could be called that). What she hasn’t been is seen as worthy. Not until this woman with her serious expression and gentle eyes. Ava wiggles closer, intrigued by why a competitor for the princesses (Her) hand would flirt so genuinely with her (a poorer competitor). “Are you flirting with me?” Ava asks with clearly faked dismay.

The woman’s freckles stand out more when she blushes. “Yes, well,” she stumbles verbally before she swallows heavily. She fiddles a little with her fork and glances down shyly. “You’re very beautiful,” she confesses.

Ava had poetry written about looks her by some of the best poets in the world. None of it holds a candle to the warmth that blooms in her chest from this honest confession. “Careful,” Ava teases, “or I might fall a little bit in love with you.”

A tiny smile licks at the woman’s lips. “That doesn’t sound so bad.” 

Ava laughs and nudges at a well muscled arm. “Maybe not, but if I do I might convince you to run away from all this to marry me instead.” Ava doesn’t know where this is coming from. She doesn’t even know this woman’s name and she’s already threatening to steal her away from what everyone in this room wants bad enough to risk death and marry her instead. 

The woman looks at her with a serious expression. “Like I said,” she repeats, “that doesn’t sound so bad.”

Ava grins and rest her hand against the woman’s forearm, feeling the heat and strength with her fingertips. “That’s a pretty bold statement considering where we are.”

The woman nods, looking around the room as though to remind herself of her purpose. “My parents might kill me if I ran away,” she comments. 

It could be an offhand comment but Ava already has a firm impression that the woman doesn’t do off hand comments. “Besides which, I don’t even know your name.” Ava says to get the conversation back to something lighter, to free the woman from whatever burden Ava can see weighing down her shoulders. “I think I should at least know what name to call out on my marriage bed.”

That startles a bark of laughter from the woman, leaving her looking as adorably confused as a pup whose never barked before making a noise it doesn’t understand. “Beatrice.”

“Ava,” Ava says with a smile. Beatrice is a beautiful and elegant name for a beautiful and elegant woman. 

Beatrice’s eyebrows furrow. “Like the Princess?”

Oh shit, Ava realizes. She was supposed to use a fake name. Should have, even  if it meant missing out on hearing Beatrice say her name. “Uh, mmhmm, yep. That’s, it’s a really odd coincidence but, well, I didn’t pick my name.” Ava shrugs and catching the quick flicker of Beatrice’s eyes dropping from her face to her chest then back up to her lips. Ava’s licks her lips and leans forwards slightly, allowing a better sight down her chest. Just to distract Beatrice from her totally not suspicious fumble. 

***

Hanging out with Beatrice is easy. They banter and talk like they’ve known each other for years. Beatrice has spent the majority of her life away from the Kingdom, travelling with her diplomat parents. Ava’s spent the majority of her life in the Kingdom, seeing all the life it has to offer. They share stories and secrets as easily as they trade blows while sparring. There’s a certain rhythm between them that makes it feel more like a dance than a fight. Ava grows more tempted to steal Beatrice away and disappear into the obscurity of being a roaming mercenary by the day. Beatrice would probably let her. Even if Beatrice’s parents wouldn’t. 

The final fights start a week and a half after she first meets Beatrice. Her first match is against some Lord’s son, J.C. Fortunately he’s too interested in the ladies and their displayed bosoms to offer much of a fight. Ava doesn’t want to admit it but he might have been able to beat her if he’d actually focused on it. She’s pretty sure he’s just here to get laid and get his dad off his back. Ava can respect those goals so she holds her hand out to help him up after she wins. He nods amicably back at her and disappears with the first girl who compliments him with a hand on his chest. 

Ava watches Beatrice’s fight afterwards, wishing it could be as easy as that with her woman. Only, just for her. Not for any girl who tried. Beatrice is a force of nature. Ava wonders how she missed it before now. She trades a glance with Shannon through the screen that protects her identity. Beatrice doesn’t win her fight, she dominates it. Ava’s thighs clench at how easily Beatrice floors a bloodied knight with ten years experience on her. It had been like he was standing still, a training dummy before her.

Shannon sends Mary with a message that night and Mary raises a judgemental eyebrow at how she finds Ava nearly sitting in Beatrice’s lap they’re eating so close together. Ava shrugs shamelessly. Mary just sighs and motions for Ava to meet up with her. Ava leaves Beatrice with a visible reluctance. 

“This mean you have a favoured winner?” Mary asks ruthlessly the moment they’re alone. 

Ava scowls at her pseudo big sister. “Yeah, me.” She replies. “Just because I want to lick her sweat from her forearms doesn’t mean I want to give up my freedom.”

Mary grimaces at the, to her unnecessary, visual. “Ew, I regret asking already.” Ava raises a challenging eyebrow. “Shan sent me with a list to watch for. She’s pretty sure your, hmm, unorthodox fight style would let you win against most fighters. There’s only three she’s concerned about. Micheal knows how you fight.”

Ava scoffs. “I got Micheal,” she reassures. “I don’t know what that brat thinks he’s doing but I know how he fights too. Leave him to me.”

Mary nods easily. “The other two, well, they’re just better than you. Don’t pout baby girl. You know we’re not trying to be mean.” Ava pouts harder. “Shan’s going to try to get them to fight each other before they fight you. That way you only have to fight one of them.”

Ava’s pretty sure she already knows but she has to ask. “Who?”

“Lilith Villaumbrosia,” Mary says and they share a knowing grimace. The Villaumbrosia’s pride themselves on being the best warriors. Ever. Ava’s not even sure they care about winning her hand as much as they do proving their heir kicks ass. “And the Leonidas heir.”

“The who?” Ava frowns with the question. She doesn’t think she’s heard of him. Mary’s jaw drops. “What?” Ava asks.

“You’re so into her it’s made you stupid.” Mary responds, half to herself. At Ava’s continued confusion Mary clarifies. “Beatrice, you idiot. Beatrice Leonidas. Or as she’s publicly known, the Lion’s Pride.”

Ava pales and the world side steps beneath her feet. The Lion’s Pride. She knows that moniker. Everyone does. They youngest general in their neighbouring, thankfully much smaller, Steral Kingdom. The warrior who single handedly fought an ogre chieftain in ritual combat. Who took only a company and razed the thousand bandits of Wild Deer Grove in an absolutely impossible coup. “Who?”

Mary laughs. “You heard me,” she says mercilessly. She shakes her head at Ava’s pleading expression. “Face it baby girl, you’ve got a crush on the pretty girl your whole country would give it’s left nut to have win this competition.”

“Fate is such a bitch,” Ava groans.

***

As Ava promised, it’s easy to win against Micheal. Her longest friend puts up a good fight but her familiar voice shouting “dick” is enough a distraction for her to disarm her at a pivotal moment. “Ava?” He asks soft enough the crowd can’t hear him. His tone is full of disbelief and wonder. 

“Duh,” her response is unsympathetic. “Now surrender and tell me what the hell you think you’re doing.”

Micheal raises his voice loudly. “I am defeated. I surrender the fight.” The referee nods acknowledgement and Ava helps her friend up. “What are you doing here? Have you been, well, you this entire time?” He asks impatiently.

“Of course I have,” Ava dismisses. “And where else would I be? Letting some idiot control my choices?” She slaps her friend gently upside his head in pointed emphasis. 

Micheal pouts at her. “It’s not like I wanted to,” he protests. At Ava’s fierce scowl he hastily backtracks. “I mean, I just, I wasn’t going to let someone force you into something you don’t want. You’re my best friend.” He shrugs and Ava gets it. They were both sick often as kids, both stuck until his mother’s loving but slightly tyrannical thumb until she could heal them. He says ‘best friend’ but Ava really knows he means ‘sibling’. 

“Well, good. I wouldn’t marry you anyway.” She teases. He makes a sour expression at the idea of them marrying. “Now let’s go watch Bea kick Lilith’s ass.” 

His eyes crinkle together in confusion. “I thought Lilith was fighting Leonidas?”

Ava blushes. Ava never blushes but she can feel how hot her cheeks get right now. Can feel his stare and jaw dropped shock. “Right. Yeah. Her.”

“A-Ava,” Micheal stutters. “Ava what was that?”

“Nothing!” Ava denies. They both know she’s lying. If not then he certainly knows it by her wide eyed heavy panting awe as she watches the legendary fight between Beatrice and Lilith. Beatrice wins flawlessly, her hair dark with sweat and escaping her cowl as she makes her way to where Ava’s watching her breathless. “That’s my girl,” Ava cheers. Beatrice stumbles and almost trips. “Oh shit! Are you ok? Do you need a healer?” Ava asks with concern. 

“Or laid?” Lilith snarks from behind Beatrice. 

Beatrice flushes red and Ava bites at her bottom lip at the sight. “I’m fine,” Beatrice says to Lilith, then softer to Ava, “I’m fine.”

“Yeah you are,” Ava growls her agreement and thrills at how Beatrice smiles shyly in response. 

She ignores Micheal’s mumbled, “this isn’t nothing” like the professional she is.

***

It comes down to Ava and Beatrice. Like it was fated. Written in prophecy and spoken by an Oracle. All Ava’s freedom locked on the other side of the woman Ava desperately wants to gift it to. On the other side of a woman she can’t defeat, and not for lack of trying. Ava hates it. Hates that she’s fallen in love and probably going to marry this woman only to resent Beatrice for being forced into this. 

Beatrice stands polished and proud. Looking every bit the amazing King she’s going to be. Her grip on her spear is easy and firm, practiced and perfected over countless hours. Ava looks pathetic in comparison. It’s intentional, the mismatched colours and contours intended to make people overlook her. No self-respecting Princess would wear this. Ava’s full face cover is down, protecting her face from the scrutiny of the Queen and her Council. Beatrice is holding her helmet under her arm, her serious eyes locked on Ava’s fidgeting form. The referee called start two minutes ago and neither of them have moved. 

Ava’s sword is still sheathed. Beatrice’s spear is butted against the ground. The most they’ve done is nod at each other. Ava’s seen Beatrice fight before. Knows that she advances like a storm the moment the referee calls a start. Like the hand of the goddess touching down against vulnerable earth, moving everywhere at once. No hesitation and no regret. Beatrice is chewing a bit at her bottom lip and Ava’s a tiny bit distracted by her jealousy that she’s not allowed to chew at Beatrice’s bottom lip. The referee called start five minutes and the crowd is murmuring loudly in the silence between them. 

“Fight.” A voice calls out and the crowd takes up the chant. “Fight! Fight! Fight!” Beatrice’s eyes don’t waver from the lock they have on Ava. Ava feels naked before her, despite being more covered than ever before. Ava wants and wants and curses herself for not finding the words to explain herself. Ava wants to beg Beatrice to walk away, to surrender this competition she’s going to win. Wants to explain that Bea’s Ava is that Ava, the one who should be sitting like a princess behind a protective screen. Present and not seen, like she’s felt her entire life until Beatrice saw her. Would Beatrice? Could she bare it if Beatrice didn’t? If she chose what her family wants her over what Ava asked of her? Ava’s never felt so weak, so alone. The referee called start ten minutes ago and the stadium rocks with the shouts of ‘fight!’

Beatrice breaks eye contact and Ava breathes through the tears spilling down her face. She turns to look at the stern couple who carry her same colours and standard. They nod at her, imperious and commanding. She tilts her head and smiles. Beatrice’s spear stays standing for a moment after she releases it, perfectly balanced until the wind knocks it down. The crowd goes silent enough between her open hand and the wind that Ava can hear the spear hit the ground. Beatrice drops her helmet next, without care for how the shiny metal hits the ground. She steps forward, away from her weapon. Her gauntlets fall right first, then left. Her cloak is ripped off her shoulders the step after. Beatrice slows, pulling at the buckles of her cuirass and it hits the ground with a solid thunk when she’s five steps away from Ava. Ava can’t breathe. The referee called start fifteen minutes ago and Beatrice is unarmed and half defenceless in front of her. 

“My whole life, people have tried to make me into something I’m not. To make me normal. Or at least… acceptable,” Beatrice explains as she continues stripping off her armour. “I became skilled at so many things just so I would still have value, despite my flaws. Or what I’d been taught was a flaw.” Beatrice scoffs. “Of course, I tried to fit in. But when you’re punished just for being different, you begin to hate what you are.” She pauses in kicking off her greaves to look at Ava. Ava’s too stunned to lift her helmet so she hopes Beatrice can see how much she’s listening in her eyes. “And what you love, what should make you happy. Only brings you pain. Pain is what made me a warrior.”

Ava blinks tears from her eyes. “Don’t hate what you are. What you are is beautiful.”

Beatrice, stripped down to the soft clothes worn beneath her heavy armour, laughs. “When I’m with you,” she says softly, “I can actually believe that.”

Ava thinks they must have been overheard because her aunt chooses this moment to interrupt. “Contestant Leonidas,” Queen Suzanne’s sharp tone cuts through the understanding between them. “What are you doing?”

“I’m falling in love,” Beatrice shouts back and Ava swoons. 

“What about the competition?” Suzanne demands. 

Beatrice blushes, as though she’d forgotten they were surrounded by a crowd and why. “Sorry,” she whispers to Ava first. Beatrice turns to Shannon’s hidden form. “I’m sorry Princess. I’m sure you’re lovely and I do wish you luck in finding you’re King to sit beside you. It just won’t be me.”

Suzanne sighs and rubs at her temples. “Contestant Leonidas, your assuming Contestant Silva will agree with you.”

Beatrice shakes her head ‘no’. “She makes her own decisions,” the vulnerable woman says. She turns to make eye contact with Ava again, as serious as she’s ever been. “Whatever you chose, I support. I’m yours. If you want to marry me, well, nothing would make me happier. If you want to strike me down and win a kingdom,” Beatrice holds out her empty hands leaving her utterly vulnerable. “I won’t stop you.”

Ava laughs. She can’t help it, even as Beatrice blinks at her with surprise. She laughs so hard her shoulders shake. 

“Contestant Silva,” Suzanne calls over Ava’s laughter and points at Beatrice’s patiently waiting form. “Perhaps you’d like to end this charade.” Ava’s eyes widen. Her aunt knows? And let it happen? Did Suzanne know this  would happen? Her shock must be obvious in her body language because Suzanne smiles. “After all,” she calls looking at her Council with an imperious expression, “Fate cannot be denied.”

Ava fumbles with the latch of her helmet and silently curses Mary’s diligence at making sure it wouldn’t accidentally come off. “You promise you’re mine?” She asks, hesitating with the weight of her helmet in her hands. “No matter what?”

Beatrice nods. “In this life and the next.” 

Ava tosses her own helmet off and throws herself at Beatrice. Her lips feels exactly as soft and perfect against her own as she dreamed. Beatrice pulls her closer and Ava can feel Beatrice’s smile with her tongue. Her hands wander a little more than is socially acceptable but Beatrice doesn’t protest so Ava doesn’t care either. Ava pulls back from the kiss to meet Beatrice’s heavily lidded eyes. Beatrice cups her face gently with both calloused hands. “I’m going to hold you to that,” she threatens. Beatrice presses their foreheads together and Ava can’t stop grinning. 

“Thank fuck!” A voice shouts behind the protective screen hiding the Crown Princess and Shannon stumbles out from behind it. 

“Princess Shannon?!” The Council gasps in shock, a few looking behind her for their Crown Princess to magically appear. “Where is the Crown Princess?”

Ava laughs and pulls back from Beatrice enough to turn and face her aunt and the Council of Lords. “It seems the final contestants have tied,” she shouts. “So we’ll be splitting the rewards accordingly. Bea will have the Princess and I’ll get married.” Beatrice pouts and Ava doesn’t have to prevent herself from poking at that tempting lower lip so she does’t. “Don’t be jealous honey,” Ava teases.

“I don’t want some Princess,” Beatrice protests, “I want you.” 

The gathered crowd of onlookers murmur to themselves, wondering if such a thing is allowed. Queen Suzanne slams her cane against the ground, bringing all attention to her. “You’ve heard my niece,” she says with a growing smile. “Now, come over here and let me give my congratulations on your upcoming marriage Ava. And welcome your King into our family.”

Ava grabs Beatrice’s hand and skips forward only to pull to an awkward halt when Beatrice does’t come with her. She looks over her shoulder to find Beatrice looking stunned. “Niece?” Beatrice croaks out.

Ava grins and rushes back to press a quick kiss to Beatrice’s lips once more. “So, turns out the reason I share a name with the Princess is because I am the Princess.”

Beatrice’s jaw drops and her eyes look between Ava and her aunt, The Queen. “What?” It comes out half strangled. 

“Surprise!” Ava flourishes her hands. “I choose to marry you and win a kingdom. You promised so no take-backies.” She steals another quick kiss and returns to pulling her fiancé over to her family. This time Beatrice goes willingly, if a little stiffly.

“I wouldn’t take it back,” Beatrice protests.

Ava grins. “I know. You’re much too steadfast for that love.”

given how she hates being powerless, ava would be the exact type of person who would enter in as a knight in a contest for her own hand so she can maintain her independence

so, knight!ava-who’s-secretly-the-princess in a contest for the princess’ hand with one of her main rivals being one Sir Beatrice Young, and as the contest drags on Ava quickly discovers that while she would rather die than loose regardless, if she has to loose to anyone she’d rather it be Beatrice

meanwhile Sir Beatrice, who was never all that interested in winning the princess’ hand to begin with, and only entered the contest at the behest of her father, finds that the urge to say to hell with it all and run away with the mysterious, constantly punning, rival knight who fights almost like their life depends on it grows stronger by the day

Flip-flop in training?

Yeah training for flip-flop:D

okay, so, 30 (tourist/knowledgeable local au) go go go

this turned into tourist/park ranger au and is heavily/entirely based on a hike i went on in arches national park years and years ago. slot canyons my beloved. please reblog if ya like it!

“Alright?”

“Great,” Ava says, trying not to look down into the canyon between her feet and the rest of the hiking trail. It’s maybe two feet wide and a long way down. Beatrice holds her hand out over the gap, and Ava takes it. She doesn’t even try not to enjoy the warmth of Beatrice’s hand or the callouses on her palm. Thirsting after her park ranger guide on a group hike definitely isn’t the highest point of Ava’s life, but it’s not the lowest, either, and she’s refusing to feel shame about it. It’s not her fault that Beatrice somehow makes a park ranger uniform look good. It should be impossible, between the pleated trousers and the baggy grey shirt and the stupid, stupid, stupid hat, but Ranger Beatrice is doing it. Ava has been at the front of the pack through the whole hike, throwing in an occasional glance at the shape of Beatrice’s arms beneath the short sleeves of her shirt amongst the views of slot canyons and rocky vistas.

“Ma’am?”

Ava blinks. She’s still holding onto Beatrice’s hand, and has yet to take the step over the canyon before her.

“Ava,” Ava says. “Ma’am was my mother.” She makes a face. What did she just say?

“Ava,” Beatrice says. Oh, Ava likes that. She really likes that, the way Beatrice’s accent turns over the second a in her name. “Just one step. The more you look down the worse it seems.”

“For sure.” Ava decides to let Beatrice think she’s afraid of heights. At least for now. She’s getting, like, major gay vibes, so maybe she can correct that misunderstanding at a later date.

Ava takes the step.

“One small step for Ava, right?” Ava says, looking up from her hiking boots to grin at Beatrice. Beatrice smiles back at her, which is just—devastating. Ava will never be the same.

“One giant leap for Ava-kind,” Beatrice agrees. She squeezes Ava’s hand before she lets it go, and Ava has to clench her jaw shut to keep from doing something embarrassing like asking her to do it again. Or moaning.

They follow the trail as a group as it narrows between two rock walls, then widens again, letting them out into a sort of split in the side of the solid rock hill, rock faces soaring a dozen feet high on either side of them. It affords them an incredible view of the desert out beneath them, sand and rocks and hills. Beatrice stops near the far end of the open space, turning and waiting as the hiking tour group files in behind her.

“Everyone doing alright?” Beatrice says. Ava watches as she does a quick headcount, following along with the numbers Beatrice mouths. If that involves staring at her lips, well, Beatrice probably can’t tell. Beatrice nods a moment later, apparently satisfied with the number of hikers gathered before her.

“This is my favorite spot in the entire park,” Beatrice says. “If you’ll all entertain it a moment, I’d like to tell you why.”

“Go for it,” Ava says. She’s the only person in the group to speak aloud. Beatrice glances at her, and Ava refuses to be embarrassed, offering an encouraging grin.

“Well, if Ava approves,” Beatrice says with a smile. She reaches up and takes off her hat. Several strands of brown hair have escaped their neat bun, and she brushes them back with one hand while the other holds her hat against her side. “My first summer in the park, I was cleaning cabins. I graduated college and lost contact with my entire family not long afterwards. It was a very difficult and confusing time in my life. I thought that I had made a mistake in coming to the US. I thought that I had made a mistake by coming here. I thought that I was in the wrong, that it was my fault somehow that my parents weren’t accepting of me. That it was my fault I was different.”

Gay, gay, super gay, totally gay. Ava agrees with the voice in her head and then tells it to shut up. There’s a rehearsed quality to Beatrice’s voice—Ava suspects she gives this speech on every one of these hikes—but there’s something genuine in it, too, and Ava wants to listen.

“One day towards the end of July—the hottest day I’d ever experienced up til then, being from England,” Beatrice says, “a friend I’d made, a ranger, took me up here. She sat me down and told me to talk to the desert, and ask it if I’d made a mistake. And then she went back up the canyon to give me some privacy. I sat here for ten minutes before I finally did it. The desert did not answer.” A ripple of quiet laughter goes around the group. Ava doesn’t join in. She’s transfixed by the look on Beatrice’s face, a little half-smile that Ava wants to stare at forever. “But on the hike back out I found a tarantula on my backpack.”

“And that made you want to stay?” Ava says. Beatrice glances at her.

“The tarantulas are a very important part of the ecosystem, Ava,” Beatrice says. Ava shuts her mouth and busies herself with the lid of her water bottle. “But yes, it did. It felt like…the desert was calling me stupid for even asking. What does a bunch of sand and rock care if I’m here or not? Have a spider for your troubles, you idiot.” More laughter, and Beatrice laughs quietly at herself this time. “But the people do care. My friend cared to take me here and show me all that sand and rock. And I care to show it to all of you. It’s my job, yes, but it’s only my job because it matters to me. And I hope that it matters to all of you.” She takes a deep breath and puts her hat back on.

“So,” she says. “On the way down the hill, if you want to, I hope that you’ll all ask the desert a question. Doesn’t have to be out loud, don’t worry. The sand won’t hear you either way. And I can’t promise you a tarantula, although some of you may be grateful for that”—no fucking kidding—“but I can promise that the desert won’t answer. And I can promise that that will be more comforting than it sounds.” Beatrice pauses for a moment. Ava might be in love with her. “Are we all ready to start?” There’s a general murmur of assent, and Beatrice turns away from the group, leading them towards the trail out of the split in the rock and down the hill. Ava hurries to catch up to her.

“So,” she says as she draws up shoulder-to-shoulder to Beatrice. Beatrice looks over at her. “Quite the story.”

“I suppose.”

“All true?”

“Of course.” Beatrice shakes her head slightly, amused and scandalized by the idea of lying.

“Got any more stories you’d like to share?” Ava says. “Maybe over a beer or something?” Beatrice is silent for long enough that Ava’s rapid, anticipatory heartbeat turns worried and even faster. “That can be my question for the desert,” Ava says. “If you want. Don’t want. Whatever.”

“Asking the desert to have a drink with you,” Beatrice says. “How unconventional.” Ava shrugs.

“I’m not really the conventional type.”

“No?” Ava shakes her head. Beatrice looks down the trail. “I’m done for the day after this tour,” she says. “There’s not many bars worth visiting around here, but if you’d like to come by my cabin, I make an acceptable gin and tonic.”

“High praise,” Ava says. “There’s literally two things in that drink.”

“Three,” Beatrice says. “There’s lime.” She pauses. “Four. And ice.”

“Sold on the ice,” Ava says. “How the fuck do you do this hike in July?” Beatrice laughs, a sharp, abrupt noise, like it’s been startled out of her. Ava’s hands clench into fists at her sides, trying to catch it in her fingertips.

“You get used to it,” Beatrice says. “Now watch where you’re going. You’ve been missing all the views staring at me.” Ava flushes pink at being caught, but she obeys, turning her head and watching the desert stretch out before her.

Ava: *grinning as she starts undressing* It’s a dirty job but I promise I’ll see it through to the end.

Beatrice: *starring in shock at Ava* What? That’s not-

Ava: *starts undressing Beatrice* I’ll see it through to the ‘end’ as many times as you want. *winks*

*Beatrice messes up for the first time*

Beatrice: My calculations are wrong?!…OHHHH FUCK ME-

Ava: Sure

Beginning Within End (Ch. 4)

Warrior Nun Fic

Rating: M

Relationship: Sister Beatrice/Ava Silva

Excerpt:

“A little snack won’t hurt and I promise to be careful,” Ava is saying as Beatrice comes into earshot, swaying back and forth in a purple and green striped tank top and an apparent complete disregard for the menacing glare Lilith is sending her way. There’s a bag of crisps in Ava’s hands, all bright colors and obnoxious packaging that’s sure to give Lilith a headache.

“I said no. You’re banned from the library.” Lilith folds her arms. “That means no entry, for you or your… snacks.”

Ava only grins up at her and starts to lean in.

“Come on, Lilith. It’ll be our little secr–”

“Hey,” Beatrice slides in, angling herself so she comes to a halt partially in between them. She’s never seen the vein in Lilith’s forehead pulse quite so hard before, even when dealing with new recruits who can’t tell the difference between a short sword and an oversized dagger. “Ava, I was just looking for you.”

Read chapter 4

Or start from the beginning here

That Lilith Voice Inside My Head

Avatrice Week Day 2: Injury/Sick

Beatrice isn’t quite sure what she’s doing, standing outside of Ava’s apartment at 2pm on a Tuesday. Well. She knows what she’s doing, but she’s not certain why. 

You know exactly why, Beatrice. For six months now, you have been engaging in the most protracted and gauche courtship ritual I have ever had the misfortune to witness. One or both of you need to either do something about it or resign in shame. For everyone’s sake.

Disconcertingly, it’s Lilith’s voice that she hears. She’s not certain what that says about the state of her conscience but she doubts it’s anything very good. She shifts the brown paper bag in her arms slightly and retrieves her phone from her pocket to make sure she has the correct address. She does. She did the last three times she checked as well. If she doesn’t make a decision soon, she’ll be bringing Ava cold soup. 

She straightens her back, pockets her phone again, and stares at the door. Right. This is ridiculous. Ava is a friend. Ava is a friend who isn’t feeling well. Beatrice is bringing her friend, Ava, pho from the place where they often eat lunch together, because she knows Ava’s order, because they are friends. 

Say friend one more time, Beatrice. You are aware that our clients pay you to use language effectively? That you allegedly graduated magna cum laude from a passable law school?

“You’ve seen the diploma. And that’s not how most people refer to Harvard, Lilith.” 

Middling, then. It’s certainly no Yale.

Beatrice opens her mouth to answer, but snaps it closed as a woman approaches and passes on her right. Beatrice takes stock of the situation. She’s a grown woman. She’s an objectively accomplished grown woman. She’s an objectively accomplished grown woman engaging in a very petty argument with herself on the street in front of a brownstone in Brooklyn while holding a bag of rapidly cooling soup. 

Depressing, isn’t it?

It’s enough. Her inner Lilith isn’t wrong. Although she has a history of being entirely oblivious when women are pursuing her, she has never been this hesitant about pursuing someone else. Well, since she got away from her family and their ghosts, anyway. She likes Ava, in more than a passing way, and she has wanted to be careful. But she can acknowledge that there’s careful and then there’s avoidance so extreme it results in a part of your subconscious taking the form of your harshest, oldest, and most honest friend. She needs to do something.

She takes a deep breath and hits the button for Ava’s apartment. Ava buzzes Beatrice up without even asking who it is, the door clicking open immediately, and Beatrice makes a note to discuss the importance of basic safety practices as she hoists the bag a little higher and climbs the stairs to the third floor. The 

Ava must be waiting by the door because it’s open essentially the moment Beatrice’s fist makes contact. 

“Hi, Bea.” 

She’s smiling at Beatrice like she’s exactly who Ava had been hoping for, and Beatrice feels suddenly incoherent, moving her face into something that she hopes very much at least approximates a smile. Ava is wearing blue sweat pants and a tank top, a green robe with sloths engaging in various sloth-appropriate activities closed loosely around her waist. Her hair is up in a messy ponytail, and she looks a little bleary from sleep and sickness. Beatrice has never seen her like this. She is…adorable. 

Beatrice swallows, opens her mouth to say hello, instead says, “I could have been a murderer.” 

My god. Did you learn to flirt from a true crime thread on Reddit?

Beatrice’s shame burns through her; her face is on fire, her stomach a pit of self-loathing. She lifts the bag and says, “I brought you soup.” She is irrationally proud of herself for that recovery. 

That is not what I would call a recovery but the bar here is obviously in hell, so well done, I suppose.

Ava blinks at her, clearly not expecting Beatrice to forgo a hello in favor of a violent hypothetical. That is, Beatrice thinks, reasonable. She grimaces and then Ava is laughing, “Camila told me you were coming. I promise I don’t usually buzz people up without checking.” Beatrice briefly considers calling Camila later to discuss the apparent immediate chain of information from her to Ava and to request that Beatrice be consulted before information is passed through it. She dismisses the idea. She has no doubt that the conversation would end with Camila nodding very solemnly and proceeding to change absolutely nothing at all about her behavior. 

Ava is still smiling at Beatrice. Beatrice feels this is incredibly generous of her. “Thank you. Come in?”

She pulls the door open wider and Beatrice steps inside, walks the bag toward the the kitchen counter where Ava points. Ava is behind her, moving toward the island, and she puts one hand on the small of Bea’s back to guide her, moving it to Beatrice’s bicep and squeezing gently when she passes. Beatrice nearly destroys the bag, somewhat miraculously manages to get it safely to the counter.

Ava falls into one of the chairs at the island separating her kitchen from the living room and kicks gently at another, which Beatrice prays is an invitation to sit. She takes the hand that Ava places on her knee when she settles in the chair as confirmation. Beatrice expects a brief touch. Instead, Ava’s hand stays. Beatrice is still staring at it when Ava starts speaking, blinks up at the sound. 

“Full disclosure, I did watch you stand outside for minimum eight minutes before buzzing my apartment. It looked at one point like you were talking to yourself?” 

Ava is smirking, hand still warm on Beatrice’s leg. 

“I was. Well, I was also talking to Lilith, but the Lilith inside of my head.” Beatrice pauses, sighs. “Please disregard that.” 

“No can do. I’ll absolutely be returning to that later, because so many questions, but for now, I’m more interested in why you stood outside my house for so long being all frowny and cute.” 

She moves her leg out slightly to press against Beatrice’s. Beatrice can feel the soft cotton of her sweatpants on the small strip of skin between the hem of her pants and her brogues, the warmth of her up to her calf. 

Ava is flirting with her. Beatrice should not be surprised. At this point, only the most conservative and risk-averse part of herself can still posit the theory that Ava may not be interested. Beatrice can be oblivious, but every single one of their mutual friends has expressed to her privately that she’s an idiot for not having done something about this sooner. They’ve also stopped being particularly subtle in shared spaces. Two weeks ago, during board game night, Camila poked Lilith quite aggressively in the ribs when she handed Beatrice a pink figurine to marry in The Game of Life with a droll, “Look, it’s Ava.” While Mary was busy choking on her beer in laughter, Ava had locked eyes with Beatrice and said, in her incredibly earnest way, “Lucky woman, whoever it is.” 

So Beatrice should not be surprised. Unfortunately, the conservative and risk-averse part of herself is the part that makes her a better-than-average attorney, and she pays it considerable deference, so she is in fact continuously surprised and rendered speechless or stupid by Ava’s proximity and any demonstrated interest in Beatrice. Currently, she’s fascinated by the blue of Ava’s sweatpants against the black of her slacks. 

“Bea.” 

She looks up again. Ava has leaned closer, pressed some of her weight into the hand on Beatrice’s leg, which has now migrated to a still socially acceptable, but definitely more distracting, position on her thigh. Her eyes are searching. Beatrice clears her throat, glances away. “Yes. Sorry.” 

Look at her, you absolute moron.

“Bea.” Ava’s other hand has come to her jaw, turns Beatrice back to face her. “Just to be totally clear about what’s happening here—I’m flirting with you. I’ve been flirting with you for months. This,” she takes her hand from Beatrice’s jaw and gestures up and down at herself, “Is not exactly how I wanted to have this conversation, but I just watched you lurk on a sidewalk for almost 10 minutes talking yourself up to come see me and it was stupidly cute and it made me want to kiss you. Lots of things make me want to kiss you, and I thought I should probably just tell you that and confirm that you’d want to kiss me back. Because I’m almost totally sure you would.” Beatrice nods and Ava wiggles just slightly in her chair, grinning big. “Awesome. Unfortunately, I can’t actually kiss you right now because I’m currently still like 30% disgusting, which is better enough for me to have told Cam not to stop you from coming here but which is like the absolute maximum you’re allowed to see before we’ve been dating for at least six months.” Ava’s mouth snaps shut and her cheeks bloom red and Beatrice feels something stir in her stomach. 

Ah. The elusive backbone. Glad to see it still exists.

Fuck off, Lilith, she thinks and, in a show of real progress, does not say out loud. Channeling all of the determination that got her through her middling law school education, Beatrice manages to get it together enough to tangle her fingers in the ones on her thigh and say, “Three points. Or, two points and a question. First, I take issue with your use of the word disgusting.” She tucks an escaped strand of Ava’s hair behind her ear, “You’re beautiful. Second, I respect your boundaries entirely but just so you’re aware, I would kiss you right now without hesitation. Finally, would you like to go to dinner with me on Saturday?”

The smile Ava gives her is perfect and bright and Beatrice feels like she’s done something right in this, which, given how she began their interaction today, is quite the relief. 

“Yes. I really, really would.” 

A small piece of the Avatrice Witcher AU: Pt. 2

"So, this is the famous Gray Eagle," a sweet voice behind her back says, and Beatrice turns around.

She's neither careless, nor unaware that she's been watched. Her witcher medallion, a silver eagle head resting against her chest, has been vibrating for a while, indicating extraordinary magic presence in the ordinary village inn.

"I am not sure fame is something witchers would crave or deserve," she replies and meets the eyes of the young woman in front of her.

She's beautiful, Beatrice concludes. Even if the Trial of the Grasses rids witchers of emotions, they are still able to spot aesthetic wonders. And appreciate them.

"The famous Ava Silva, I presume?" she asks, to which the sorceress smiles brightly and offers her a hand.

When Beatrice shakes it, her skin tingles pleasantly. Sometimes, magic does that to her. Even though it doesn't explain why her breath hitches and her cheeks warm up now.

"Do you really deem me worthy of fame, Beatrice?" the sorceress asks playfully. "Because I cannot deny a small craving."

Beatrice notices that the corner of the woman's mouth has risen.

She realizes they're still holding hands.

But she doesn't mirror the smile. In fact, she makes sure not to move a muscle in her face when she says: "I don't think my opinion on this matter is worth your consideration."

To which, and damn her three times, Ava Silva frowns and her dark eyes pierce Beatrice through. "I would argue about that," she says quietly and gently squeezes Beatrice's hand. Then, she lets go; although her eyes don't.

And for the first time since she remembers, Beatrice doesn't know what to say. Doesn't know how to escape those deep, dark eyes.

"Let's get to business," she says finally and leads them to a free table in the corner of the inn.

"The notice on the village board mentioned you're looking for someone to accompany you on your journey to Kaer Seren," she continues when they sit down. "Why do you wish to visit a witchers' keep?"

Ok, but that bed is only accessible from one side. And given the season two mournful bed touching Ava does, combined with season one’s mention of sleeping Poorly (see chatting with Mary as they hike), my guess is that Ava sleeps on the accessible side. Meaning Bea sleeps close to the wall. Bea who wakes up first and then has to climb over Ava to get out of bed. Ava whose not used to feeling things and is constantly squirming even when awake. Constantly reaching out and touching. How many times did Bea try to climb over Ava to get out of bed only to get caught and snuggled by Ava?

Avatrice’s bedroom set up in Warrior Nun S2 | source | Primary source is Bárbara Pérez-Solero, the show’s production designer

Ok, but I also feel like Bea wouldn’t just pretend her kids aren’t there and push them back without looking at them. Like, yes, this is a very important meeting and the whole world is potentially watching but these are her kids and they come first. Bea’s going to do the opposite of what her parents did and make sure they know they come first. So when the toddler comes up she just reaches down a hand, grabs them by the jumper and sets them in her lap without pause. And when the toddler pats her on the face and calls her name “mum” she looks at the camera and says, dead serious, “My apologizes, something very important just came up.” Then she looks down at her toddler and goes “yes darling?” And the news studio just lets it happen because a) adorable and b) turning off her camera would just make them look like assholes. 

So when Ava stumbles into the room (literally) and hustles the infant away she has to come back for the toddler who is explain very serious things to her wife on national television. (“mommy go potty I come say hi”). Ava’s 100% ready to die of embarrassment when she grabs their toddler from Bea’s lap but Bea grabs her for a quick kiss and a ‘thank you’ so that makes it a little better. And no, she doesn’t care that all of national television saw her look at her wife with wide eyed adoration. Or walk into the door she closed because she was too busy starring at her wife. Who just smirked smuggly and returned to her interview.

😂 if it’s canonverse, ava in her haste to get the kids out asap b4 they can disrupt beatrice’s meeting even further and so she phases in and/or out of the room when she goes to get the kids not realizing that’s the most disruptive thing there 😭😭😭

if it’s non canonverse ava, and a no powers universe ava, while trying to grab the kids she probably trips or knocks something down or vv obviously very nearly does so

the only reason canonverse ava didn’t is because she’s a trained fighter and fought in a whole holy (🥁) war and the urgency of trying to get her & beatrice’s kids in and out without being even more disruptive kicked that part of her in, but even then it was probably a near thing lmao

Re this ask and this original post

Canonverse Ava phasing into the room then immediately back out with the kids is a hilarious visual. It would just be a blip on the screen and then the kids are gone,,, like one of those Bigfoot sighting pictures (the only example I can come up with lmaoo).

Non canonverse Ava wears grippy socks around the house 1000% so in trying to slide into the room she just ends up falling face first (maybe…. maybe this was inspired by real events in my life… maybe)