I mean... at least y'all didn't have to wait a whole month.
ALSO, don't skip this, but the present is after season 6. Unsure whether I will follow season 7 as I stopped watching halfway through season 6 lmao.
ANYWHO, please enjoy!
Word count- 4265
In a heavy, black suitcase there were many rolls of sweatshirts, tank tops, shorts, jeans and all the other necessities someone would need when staying in Magix. Between the cramped spaces were unnecessary things that Musa found necessary; scrunchies, notebooks, lip scrubs and travel-sized tissues had become the victim of the singer's overpacking. She exhales in accomplishment.
"You were right, Tec. I can fit plenty more things this way."
The entry of dark purple heels in her vision causes her eyes to trail up the striped socks, pink skirt and mauve blazer to the tech-enthusiasts face. A furrow in Tecna's brow replaces the content look she usually has.
"This isn't what I intended for you to do with the extra space. Now it looks cluttered and messy, despite the rolled clothing."
"Well, I'm just preparing for all the things I might need," The dark-haired girl explains sheepishly.
The taller of the two raises her brow. "Musa you're there for less than a week. Plus, you'll have makeup artists, stylists and your manager. There's not much else you need."
She opens her mouth to respond but quickly closes it. Tecna's not wrong -she never is- there's just a small part of her that misses the independence she had before her breakthrough in the music industry. As though overnight, her loosely made song had blown up and reached the ears of every Magical Dimension Citizen. (If they had a radio, of course.) Alongside her already growing fame from the Winx Club, an upbeat pop song only encouraged it. The next thing she knew, floods of managers and labels had poured into her inbox. So when the music label that Matlin had been under contacted her, she jumped at the chance. Various interviews and meetings had landed her a team dedicated to her success. That's when Musa knew she made it.
All around the clock, there were a handful of professionals willing to aid her in an instance. Her current life would have been her permanent lifestyle had her father not abdicated, oddly enough. The title 'Princess' was given to her for respect of the royal blood that flowed through her veins, not for her actual benefit. But, it was important to remember he did it to pursue music- exactly what she's doing now.
"I guess you're right," Musa frowns.
Tecna smiles triumphantly, the confirmation of remaining in the right like music to her ears. "Does that mean you're gonna reorganize?"
"Nah."
Musa grins at the disapproving shake of her roommates head, amused by her reaction.
The ring of their doorbell makes her jerk; the neon-haired girl calmly walks to the door and allows the Specialist inside.
"Timmy? What are you doing here?" The singer asks. He stutters, surprised to see the Fairy. Musa interrupts before he can respond. "How did you-"
The answer to her question is in Tecna's keycard that permitted him into the teachers' dorms. The glossy card is held firmly by his hand, the other rubbing the back of his neck. The musician's mouth forms an O.
The blushing couple ahead of her tempts her to embarrass them further. Instead, she waits for either of them to say anything as they awkwardly stand side by side.
The bronze-haired boy clears his throat. "It's nice to see you again, Musa."
"Likewise, Timmy," She stretches her long legs from their crossed position, leaning on the palm of her hands.
"Um, not to be rude or anything, but what brings you here?"
She teasingly raises her eyebrows.
"Last time I checked this was my dorm." His bony face burns crimson. She laughs, her tongue between her teeth. "I'm only kidding. I'll be gone soon- I'm headlining the music festival downtown. That's why there's this ugly suitcase in front of me."
Tecna shrugs in apology to Timmy, then sits on the couch behind the dark-haired girl. Her hand pats the space next to her, signalling her boyfriend to sit next to her.
For the next hour, they delve into a light-hearted conversation; in the midst of the discussion, she noticed they were tip-toeing around to avoid any relation to Riven. They did it with such ease that it made the pit in her stomach larger, knowing they had enough practice to do this like the back of their hands. Musa bottled her frustration. It wasn't either of their faults that she was so sensitive about the boy that had left her or the relationship they had. She wanted them to talk freely and mention whoever they fancied. They talk about their summers, yet she can't stop the thought of Riven which racks her brain. It's like he's the tune to a song that you can't just name.
~o~
The synthy bass that echoes across the outdoor stadium mimics the music in her earpiece as she runs through soundcheck and her hour-long setlist. She retraces the meticulous steps that Musa and her choreographer had planned; enter the stage from the left, stop at the middle, pause, continue down the narrow runway and finally, sing. All for the theatrics, of course. Ideally, she would already have started singing the moment her feet touched the stage. But for a show to be considered successful, you had to be a performer. Luckily for Musa, she was already born one.
In the corner of her eye, the Fairy spots other artists entering the building, adding to the rising pressure. Her mind goes blank, ignoring the call of her name behind her. It isn't until a hand is on her shoulder that she notices everyone else has taken a break.
"Sorry. I zoned out for a bit," The short girl explained timidly.
"I noticed." The dark-skinned boy grins a toothy smile, his bright eyes sparkling. Milo had graduated from the Golden Auditorium a few years ago, solidifying his position as her close friend, dancer and choreographer. His hand drops to return to his side. "Anyways, they want you in the back to review your setlist."
Musa untangles the maroon headset mic from her undone hair and holds it. "Oh, okay. Sounds good."
She makes her way backstage, greeting colleagues along the way. It consistently amazes her to see the amount of effort and people that take place behind the curtain, in addition to working in an environment that was often overwhelming. Large, steel bars hold the structure above her with hanging florescent lights. People rush by her and envelopes Musa into the working atmosphere that she loves. Her navy eyes take in every feature before seeing the sound technician.
"Hey," She waves.
"Oh! Musa, right on time." The unfamiliar face pushes a tablet in her hands, replacing the headset. "Do me a favour and look over this, 'kay?"
"Sure..." She disappears before she can finish, Musa's voice trailing.
The vocalists acrylic nail taps the screen, preventing the device to sleep. At full brightness, she reads the order of songs that she is slotted to play. Most of her songs are from her new album to promote it, the rest being popular singles that could occasionally get repetitive.
Touch It, Summer Days, TLIC...
The list continues.
At times, there are moments where Musa wished that she hadn't written so many songs about people. Reminiscing was a gamble- being aware that a feeling or experience was locked in place by a three-minute song was relieving to know she could always relive it. On the other hand, it could be the exact opposite. Her focus wearies if she thinks about it too much.
She hands the tablet to an intern and retreats to the stage for rehearsal.
Focus.
~o~
Musa nibbles her bottom lip, contemplating the varying results that could occur. Everyone from management had advised her to go home, reschedule and wait. Nevertheless, she ignored them and confirmed her position in the setlist. Thus, she was sitting in her folded chair, being pampered by her makeup artist and stylist. Her supporters came here for a reason.
"Black or plum?"
The singer raises her eyes, examining the different coloured materials in front of her.
"Um... plum," She replies.
"Great," Mara, her stylist, cheers. The emerald-eyed girl was from Solaria where she embraced her gifts with the help of Stella; the Princess acted as her model in return for a few occasional custom outfits. A couple of years later, the fashion Fairy was becoming a professional stylist with the help of two Winx members.
Mara spins around and raises the leotard beside other clothing articles. The blue-eyed girl turns straight, inspecting her reflection in the mirror; a brush flicks the bridge of her nose, held by Rory. Following the movements of her makeup artist, she ponders the severity of the threat until there's a knock on the door. Rory cautiously walks to the door, aware of the danger of them being at the stadium. Musa glances nervously through the reflective image.
Unable to see past his body, the long-haired girl asks, "Who's at the door?"
"Just an intern- they brought you your tea."
Her tense body unwinds. "Oh, good."
The transparent, fragrant liquid is poured into a brown mug, settled on her lap. The hot steam pinkens her face as she uses her hands to take a sip. A foul look draws on her appearance. "Dragon, I forgot how terrible lenugia tea was."
The artist snorts. "Then why did you request it?"
"It does well for my throat," she explains. "It helps that there's some sentimental value too."
Rory's eyebrows raise. "Like Winx Club value?"
She beams at the mention of her favourite people. Musa delves into last years adventure, deliberately avoiding her past boyfriend to keep up her perky demeanour. Performances always reflected the attitude of the singer, whether it is real or not.
Musa forces a laugh.
o~o
"Make sure you watch the new kids. And, act like a civilian. We do not want to raise any suspicion or frighten people." Reyna reminds him, much to his annoyance. Riven rolls his eyes at the Distinguished leader. Her buzz cut had vanished, thick curls replacing it instead. Her dark skin has become the home to the few wrinkles that line her face. Reyna's piercing eyes warns him to watch his attitude; she pokes a finger in his chest. "Watch yourself. Just because you're an Ace doesn't make us any less than you or your partners. This mission is under the jurisdiction of the Distinguished and the Aces."
The Ace grunts in response.
She shakes her head, stalking off to the front of the aircraft. Riven curses quietly to her back.
He flops onto a leather seat and pinches the bridge of his nose. The mission was a burden enough with the joint team of the Aces and the Distinguished. But now, Dominic had assigned the beginners to him probably because he knew that Riven would despise it. Sadistic fuck.
The majority of the trip consisted of Riven trying his best to ignore his underlings' questions and inquisitive stares. His squad included him, the temporary leader, and three other Aces; they were overly-confident, wearing proud grins while casting the Distinguished judgement glances. As much of a headache they gave him, it was common for recruits to be cocky and brass, similar to how he was when he first started. His face falls into his hands, elbows on his knees.
Recently, life has not been very kind to the former Specialist. His mood has become more irritable, the result of multiple calls to his Red Fountain days and the reminder of what he left behind. Thus, when the opportunity to reconcile with the past, he couldn't say no. Riven should have denied it. Still, he just wanted to see her, know that he left Musa for the greater good. In addition to that, he selfishly wanted to be the one to protect her as he didn't believe that anyone else could do the job adequately.
His shrink did say he had a possessive nature.
The leader's cluttered thoughts are interrupted by a wavering voice. "Sir? We've finished preparing. Your equipment is at the back."
Riven reluctantly lifts his head, eyeing the boy dressed in plain clothes. "Good. Wait for my command when we land."
The violet-eyed boy doesn't wait for him to reply and strolls to the location of his gear. A grey windbreaker, a maroon sweater, black jeans, dark sunglasses and ball-cap lay beside an enchanted phantom gun. He shrugs on the clothes and accessories over his protective uniform, then grasps at the weapon. The steel item glows in the white light, a deceiving look to what could happen if used wrong. His hands raise, finger lingering over the trigger; a dark, misty ball of magic flies through the air, marking the wall. Huh. It works for once.
Riven lowers the weapon calmly, the gun retracting into a small cube.
"Riven! We're here," Reyna yells.
He makes his way over to join everyone else, tossing the cube before shoving it in his pocket. The black-haired leader rambles on about the mission. "-be cautious of your surroundings. The terrorists are pretending to be concert goers, like us. Your main goals are safeguarding the thousands of innocent lives, whether that involves capturing or harming potential threats. Ideally, we want them alive. Remember to report any odd behaviour to either Riven or I."
She pauses.
"And finally, do not give any idea to what could happen to other people. No one knows this is occurring other than the performers and such," Reyna curtly finishes after a breath.
A few hands raise. The Distinguished points at one, prompting them to speak.
"If the singers know about the threat, then why is the festival still happening?"
"They were given the option to proceed or not. All of the singers were informed promptly, but they continued anyway," Riven answers. His jaw tenses, thinking about how stupid and stubborn Musa is.
Another inquiry.
"What are the terrorists planning on doing that could harm the whole concert?"
Reyna facade falls slightly. "A bomb."
The group breaks into gasps and conversation at the possible outcome of this mission. Their frenzied looks and shallow whispers remind Riven how immature and inexperienced they were.
He shouts, "Alright, enough. Last question."
"How are we going to communicate?"
"When we leave the ship, you'll be handed earpieces that connect you to your teammates."
The Distinguished leader claps her hands together and announces the plan.
o~o
Please don't be here. Please don't be here.
Please have changed your mind.
The marroon-haired boy stands at his assigned area, trying to avoid the crowd of people that pushed and shoved him further away from the stage. He glares at the blur of people, hidden by a blanket of darkness. Only the bright stage lights and lanterns along the perimeter provide light, save for the few dots in the clear night sky. Riven takes off his sunglasses, useless in the evening and hangs them on the collar of his sweater. A few sentences pass by the intercom, confirming his teammates' places. The Ace's face scrunches while he attempts to hear what they're saying; the crowd around him screams. The stage lights turn dark, encouraging the audience to push forward as he fights for his personal space. Too many sounds around him leave his earpiece useless and force him to rely on his instincts. The packed floor reminds Riven of the few experiences he had at moshpits- sweaty, heated and cramped.
After warning some people who were too close for comfort, Riven analyzes his surroundings to search for suspects. His towering figure gives him an advantage despite the difficulty to see in this lighting. Spotting a hooded girl, he nods. Another Ace. Unbeknownst to him, Reyna was in the stands, watching him with caution. It was clear she trusted the tall boy less than the newcomers; his former relationship with the celebrity wasn't as concealed as he thought. The severity of this mission couldn't afford anyone to be distracted.
At once, they all turn back to the front where beams of various colours flicker across the arena. A flurry of people enters the platform from both sides yet unrecognizable from the commotion. He must have underestimated the sounds citizens of Magix could make after hearing a shrill shriek to his left. Riven shuddered at the deafening cry. Though, had he been someone who vocalized their shock, he would have reiterated.
A spotlight focussed on the main attraction.
Fuck.
Musa's sleek hair was pinned back, bangs nowhere in sight. Baggy, ripped jeans hung on the edges of her hips, struggling to stay on was it not for the leather belt that caused the top of her pants to fold over another. The swordsman's eyes trailed upwards. Her plum bodysuit dipped into V, stopping at her stomach; the space covered in sheer netting. The choker around her neck shared the same material and shade. She -or someone- must have dotted her face in makeup, concealing any of her nonexistent imperfections. The Fairy broke into a smile, the pink glitter on her cheekbones shining. He could have sworn that the stars in the sky glowed a bit brighter.
She began a slow, antagonizing stride down the runway as music emerges from the speakers. The dancers dressed in white separated, standing on both sides which allow her to reach the end. Musa stops again; she waves to the screaming fans. The warm metallic taste in his mouth compels him to release his bottom lip, puffy and bleeding. Riven's hand tilts the brim of his hat and hopes that she doesn't notice him. He backs away, letting her frenetic followers take his place. As much as he wants to stay out of her sight, he can't stop staring at her. Thankfully for him, she passes over him; the Ace briefly closes his eyes in relief.
They snap open again at the sound of her voice, alongside the thousands of others.
"How do I make the phone ring? / Why do I even care?"
Her voice is raw and silky, hypnotizing the audience to sing and dance along. The usually hard, intense soldier unconsciously mouths the lyrics. How could he not know them when it was about him? His regret and remorse flared, a burning sensation crawling up his throat. He clenches his teeth to lead him back to reality and find the reason why he was in an overpacked stadium, surrounded by ear-splitting screams and within a close radius of the person he vowed to leave.
"How are you all around me when you're not really there? / When you're not really there?"
At the top of his lungs, he wanted to shout, "I'm right here."
But years of training could not go to waste. For the sake of the innocent lives at stake, there wasn't a chance he could delve into his temptation. Not for a moment. Riven was made aware of that anew by the roars in his ears.
Someone whose name he can't remember yelled. "Sir? What are you doing?"
"What do you mean 'what am I doing'? I'm doing my duty like you're supposed to," He snarled, immediately irritated at the question. The sentry made his way out of the crowd, index finger on the earpiece.
"Um... There-"
With his dampened mood, he wasted no time to scold the recruit. "The next time you decide to address your commanding officer, I suggest you watch your tone."
"Apologies, sir." Riven heard him inhale as if building his courage. "But the- the-"
He snapped, "Stop stuttering and just say what you need to."
"The culprits are coming your way; one of them is in a pink hat and the second one is holding a duffel bag," The beginner blurted.
Shit, shit, shit.
"Why didn't you tell me earlier?" He roared. Riven pushed past civilians, seeking to get a glimpse of the terrorists. Cover be damned.
"I- I did, sir. I was trying to get your attention earlier; that's why I was-"
He slid past a group of teenagers and bolted to his previous position. The closer his proximity got to Musa and the speakers, the more challenging it was to stay attentive. Lights ran along the arena. His eyes centred on pink, glittered hat that reflected the light. They were heading towards a door backstage.
"Stop talking." Riven interrupted. "All Aces to door D. I repeat, door D."
A line of confirmation followed while he pivoted the other way. He ran past the teenagers for the second time, not pausing to apologize. The overwhelming amount of people caused for a great obstacle until they got the message to part ways. In the corner of his eye, Musa continued her performance, oblivious to the crisis at hand. His eyes were darting back and forth from her, the suspects and door B. The Ace noticed a commotion in the stands as well. Someone shoved their way in the same direction. The Distinguished.
A few long strides later, he flashed his identification at a measly guard and hopped over the fencing. A spur of protests commenced behind him; the security guards clamour at the crowd. The violet-eyed boy turns the door to no avail. Inhaling deeply, he calms himself. Door B. He steps back before ramming the heavy door; the lock breaks to reveal a room for storage. Without hesitation, he swerves around piles of equipment, flinging open the next door. His eye analyzes the map on the wall to search for the quickest route to door D.
"Any updates?" Riven orders.
Static, then noise. "The pair split up- the Distinguished are chasing for the one with the bag. The pink hat is still heading to door D."
"Good. I'm inside the building." He resumes his steady pace. "I can cut them off."
"Alright."
He races to door D, hoping to get there ahead of time. The tall boy's hand grazes the wall, boots thumping the polished floor. A sharp turn to his left, then right lead him past door C. He slows down and reaches for the cube in his pocket; squeezing the weapon, it reforms into the shadow gun. He tip-toes closer toward door D and instead finds the electrical room. Formulating a brief detour, Riven jogs to the area and ignores the 'Do Not Enter' sign. He opens the door slightly, pointing the gun inside before finding it empty. The former Specialist hastily opens the electric panel and reworks the wires to turn hallway H's power off. The absence of light would be his advantage.
Cheers and applause echo through the building. Were he in a different situation, he's positive that he'd had to fight a grin off his face, as much as he detests it. His thoughts vanish in an instant at the creak of an open door. The darkness envelopes them both; hidden underneath the shadows, Riven sees the rough outline of the suspect and shoots. The culprit -a girl- shudders violently, then collapsing to the ground. A second later he's joined by the rest of his team.
"Woah, you got her already."
He grunts disinterestedly, regardless of the profound thankfulness he feels. The weight of this assignment had multiplied when he knew Musa would be here.
Thank the Great Dragon.
o~o
Dominic's stocky thumb turns counterclockwise, rewinding the tape and pausing. Once Riven is in view, he points with his index finger. "Do you see this?"
Riven leans back and tilts his chair. The cold piece of furniture under him provides zero to none comfort like the rest of the interrogation room. His arms tighten in their crossed position.
"Me doing my assigned position...?" He bites.
"Has anyone ever told you that you have a serious attitude problem?"
The Ace smirks. "Not really."
The red-head side-eyes him and resumes the video. He goes into a lecture about distraction and his responsibilities that Riven pays no mind. He stares blankly at him from the other side to the table. The violet-eyed boy suppresses his anger directed toward the entire situation and his so-called friend. Flashes of heat pulse through him when the tape fixates on Musa. Pushing his tongue against his cheek, he scoffs cynically.
His superior rests his elbow on the grey surface and holds his freckled chin in his palm.
"We're well aware of the... relationship you had with her. And, as a friend, I want you to know it's very normal to miss your ex."
"I don't," He lies.
Riven jumps out of his seat, bee-lining to the exit. Behind him, the clash of the chair hitting the ground rings alongside Dominic's sigh. The maroon-haired boy twists the knob but is interrupted.
"Riven as much as you hate it, everyone knows you've been distracted ever since that assignment. Change that, or your shrink will."
He grits his teeth and squeezes the handle. "Piss off."
The door slams, shaking the area after him. Outside, Dominic can hear his hand against the wall through the padded room.
The red-head mutters, "Fucking loverboy."
HELLO. Thanks for making it down here.
The tea Musa was drinking was in season 6 episode 13. Don't ask me what the episode was about- I didn't watch it.
SPECIAL THANKS TO bydreamsandnightmares FOR REVIEWING. This chapter is 100% a thank you for supporting me and this story. You're a gem.
If you enjoyed, check out my Tecna centric one-shot called 'Mindless Thoughts'. :)
Until next time...
