darkdevasofdestruction

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Chapter 11 - Purple Haze

Kratos placed Mimir's head by the giant horn, and thus, the old head summoned the Giant world serpent; With a roar, he rose up, then went straight to destroying a statue of Thor - Katrina found it highly amusing, enough so that it earned a chuckle. Big snake has quite the unpleasant history with the fat God - Or, as Mimir said, WILL have an unpleasant... Future-History. How confusing.

The Head started yowling at Jormungandr, and the snake roared right back in response - Neither of the three present could even guess what they were speaking in such an ancient tongue - Yet one thing was certain - The air was getting rather foul. The serpent moved their bridge platform into the right direction, the the old goat told them about a rune they had to learn, and about some kind of magical chisel that would aid them in traveling. 

As for the brief moment the trio thought they were going to be eaten alive by the Giant... Mimir misspoke, making Jormungandr think they were friends of Odin - Small mistake from one who never spoke the language sober. How funny this one was. Dionysus would have had a field trip hanging around Mimir and belching the ancient language.

They hopped back on the boat and rowed towards the statue of the oarsman, and thus, it was time for the much awaited story time. "Mimir - You never did tell me why Freya spit in your face." what a naively cute thing to point out.

"Well, she blames me in large measure for her present circumstances.... And not without reason." the old head sighed. "It all goes back to the Long War between the Aesir and the Vanir." he said. "Prior to that, wars for the Aesir were easily won -- But the Vanir had proved their equal, and exacted devastating damage." he went on. 

"That sounds exhausting - And terrible." Katrina placed her hand over her heart - She was glad the Gods never waged war with each other quite like that. In a sense, Zeus ruling over Olympus and ensuring everyone had their own role in the 'family' wasn't the worst thing to happen; That being said, they did not have multiple realms fighting each other - Just the occasional Titan uprising here and there. "With such a war, both sides must have suffered tremendous losses."

"Quite so, sister - And for many of us, war was simply no fun anymore." sounded like something Ares would never be caught dead saying.

"War is always a senseless waste of precious life." the Goddess spoke plainly, looking down into her lap. For her, the loss of life broke her heart - Be it human, animal or plant. Life was precious above all. 

"We all agreed to that, sister - And at last, Odin's most brilliant advisor became determined to find a more enlightened path. He set about to broken a peace between the Gods. Took some convincing, but ultimately, Odin was persuaded to marry his deadliest enemy." he narrated their old past.

"Freya - Sorry, you pronounce it as... Freyja... Freyja was married to Odin...? That sounds like hardly the blissful marriage." the lady scoffed in surprise - Though he couldn't blame either party. During the worst times of war, people would do anything to survive - And leaders would take the worst deals just to save their people. Even so, she still wonders why Hera did not divorce Zeus after cheating so much on her.

"Yes, indeed - The very Vanir Goddess legendary not only for her fertile beauty, but her genius at the very Vanir magic that Odin had long aspired to master." Mimir explained the deal.

"So... The Vanir got peace... While Odin got to marry a gorgeous and talented woman who would end up teaching him the very thing he was desperately seeking? No wonder Freyja hates Gods so much." Kat scoffed once again, shaking her head in disappointment. 

"Truly, she deserves better than she got." Mimir hummed in pitiful agreement. "But of course, there's much more to that story..."

"I can't believe Odin and Freyja were ever married." Atreus spoke in surprise.

"I thought your mother taught you about Gods - As it stands, is Odin not the Allfather, and Freyja the Allmother? Or their marriage was veiled in secrecy?" the Olympian Goddess asked.

"It didn't last very long... Nor was it a happy outcome for any party, involved or otherwise." Mimir sighed. "Love and hate are more closely intertwined than one might imagine. You see - Odin's one and true love was Fjorgyn, a giantess - Thor's mother --"

"Wait - Thor is half-Aesir and half-giant?! So weird!" Atreus exclaimed in shock.

"Truly - And once Fjorgyn was gone, lonely ages passed for Odin... And after no small amount of convincing, Freyja agreed. For a while there, he really turned on the charm; He seemed happy. He seemed interested in making her happy. He granted her so many wishes I can scarcely recall them all."

"Sounds like another certain Allfather I know..." Kat rolled her eyes.

"I was foolish, sister - The peace held for a while, and I truly believed all had worked out better than I could have planned... But Odin's true face showed itself again in the end... Once he won Freyja's trust, and she taught him some of her Vanir magic - Another choice she would live to regret. Sadly, despite his wise counsellor's best efforts to persuade him that peace was the only true path to stave off Ragnarok... Odin never let go of his obsession with Jotunheim. The taste of Vanir magic led him to new forms of experimentation, and new levels of depravity." he spat down in disgust.

"I cannot say I am surprised in the least."

Soon, the waters took them towards the frozen northern docks, where Mimir told them all about the sad story of Thamur. The saw the hammer of the blacksmith giant, and even the giant hand and what not -- It was quite a macabre idea, climbing over the dead body of a frost giant who froze over a whole village with his dying breath; And under a thick layer of frozen ice was hiding a powerfully glowing red light which they must reach.

 "I have a plan." Kratos said, looking up.

"You do?" Mimir gasped in mock-shock.

"Do not act so surprised, head." the Spartan then looked at the Olympian, who simply smiled and reached her arm up.

"Hold on tight and enjoy a wild ride." thus, Katrina summoned long vines from the ground, latching around Atreus and his father, and then shooting up into the sky, all the way on the top of the giant Hammer. Kratos seemed a little shaken by the unexpected ride - Atreus on the other hand was clutching his heart and laughing happily.

"THAT WAS SO COOL!" he squeaked adorably. "Can we do that again some time?! Pretty please?!"

"Certainly!" she giggled at him. "Now then, Almighty one, do your thing." she patted Kratos' back, as he huffed and went towards the mountain wall.

"Do not do that again." he mumbled under his breath - Clearly he wasn't one for extreme sensations.

With his Godly strength, Kratos pushed the Hammer down, and with it, urged both his son and his lover to jump down with it; Unfortunately, they lost balance and fell - Kratos and Atreus almost got trapped under the hammer, whilst Katrina fell outside. Thankfully, Atreus was still holding onto the flower she made for him, so he could feel she was still very much alive and well - The flower would pulsate with life and energy the closer they were to each other, and thus, find their way to reunite;

However, the Goddess had other plans; As she got up from the ground, her eyes were captured by a faint glow from the top of a mountain - It was purple, and fading, calling to her like a dying voice seeking aid. She gravitated towards that spot like a moth attracted to the flame, and she climbed up the steep cliffs and mountain peaks until she reached the very top.

But she wasn't alone.

On the edge of the cliff was the source of the light - A small flower, wilting and glowing with faintness - Over it, a man was towering; He was tall and fair, his skin as white as snow, his hair gold like a sun-caressed field of wheat, styled in intricate braids, he was wearing a white tunic and leather armor, adorned with solid gold ornaments and embellishments... But what stood out the most about him were not his golden teeth bared and sneered at the dying flower, but the fact that his eyes were purple and glowing, akin to the very flower.

As she approached with quiet steps, Katrina could hear the stranger muttering — Not with awe or reverence for the gorgeous flower, but with complete disdain.

“Stupid, fragile little thing. Could’ve bloomed when I needed you to, but no — You just HAD to go and die just to spite me.” the stranger got up to his feet, stomping the snowy ground in anger and frustration.

The Goddess tilted her head, then slowly stepped forward, making her presence known. "Flowers do not usually respond well to being insulted.”

The man turned sharply, violet eyes narrowing as they landed on her — Surveying her with instant suspicion. How come he didn't hear her steps? How come he didn't sense her presence?

“Who are you?” he snapped, glaring at her.

Katrina blinked at his hostility, but smiled nonetheless. “No one you would be familiar with.” 

“Mortals really are everywhere these days,” he muttered, rising to his full height. He was radiant, but his voice was soaked in disdain and malice. “Do you people just sniff out sacred places like dogs?”

She raised a gentle brow, unfazed by his sharp tongue. “I only wanted to see the flower.”

He scoffed. “Well, congratulations. It’s dead. You can grieve together.” he turned his back at her briefly. "What a waste of time - Getting through all the trouble of getting here... The Allfather's gonna be pissed." she heard him muttering under his breath. Was this man... An Aesir God? A lackey of Odin? What a terrifying thought. Even so - He couldn't be that scary if he couldn't even sense her presence, right?

She ignored the bite in his tone and stepped closer to the bloom. It was withered, but not gone — Just dormant. Her hands, warm amidst the freezing cold of the blizzard, lowered to cup the tiny stem and the fallen petals. Her fingertips glowed with a soft, radiant gold-green aura, her most beloved magic - Life - Drawn from the earth and herself, flowed into the frozen bloom.

The stranger watched with a sneer at first, but then — Something subtle shifted in his gaze. Disbelief and awe took over him as the petals lifted, color returning; The faint violet glow surged like a heartbeat, now stronger than ever. Even the frost beneath the flower melted into a small, glimmering puddle, making the whole peak green with grass and tiny mountain flowers.

Katrina smiled and gently plucked it. “There we go.” she turned toward him, walking with a gentle smile on her face, showing off the gorgeous flower in her hands. “Alive and lovely once more.”

He stared at her with a furrowed brow, lips slightly parted — Confused. Caught off-guard. He had never witnessed such magic before - Even the Vanir did not possess such an enigmatic type of magic... What WAS this woman?

She studied him for a moment. His features were sculpted, ethereal — And those eyes, glowing amethyst and crackling faintly with light - The flower in her hand, she suddenly realized, matched them perfectly.

Without thinking, she reached up and gently tucked the violet blossom behind his ear. “It suits you.” he went completely still.

His brows drew together into a frown, his body stiffening as if he had just had his intimacy violated rudely. “What did you just—?”

“The color.” she said softly, smiling. “It matches your eyes. You have an ethereal beauty about you - Even when you are scowling.”

His mouth opened and closed like a stunned child. No one — No one — had ever spoken to him like that. Especially not a witch who did not belong to these lands, soft in voice and warm in presence.“You’re insane.” 

She giggled softly, like a crystalline lullaby sang by the nymphs. “I have been called much worse.”

He looked away sharply, his ears just faintly pink now - Just the cold, he lied to himself. He muttered under his breath something about 'absurd mortals' and 'silly parlor magic tricks' but didn’t pull the flower from his hair.

She did not know what came over her - Perhaps it was Aphrodite's influence taking over her, or Anteros kicking her to move forward - Katrina found herself in front of the seraphic man, placing a soft, warm kiss on his pale, frozen cheek, and leaned back to smile - And admire her handy-work in making the man try so hard to hide he was flustered.

“Be kind to flowers. They might bloom for you next time.”  she offered an enigmatic smile as she turned her back at him. "Unless you want to summon me again and make use of my magic."

She left as softly as she’d arrived, the snow parting around her and flowers blooming where she stepped - And then, much to his shock, the lady jumped off the cliff; By the time Heimdall reached the edge to search for her, she was long gone, vanished into the wind like a sweet dream.

Heimdall stood alone, fuming — Not at her, exactly, but at the strange fluttering in his chest. The glowing flower still clung to his hair, pulsating with life and warmth akin to a heartbeat. What the hell did he just witness? Who was this woman, where did she come from - What was she? A mortal couldn't possibly achieve such an elusive level of... Whatever she was. No, she couldn't be... And yet, there was no way she could be a Goddess of the Realms -- He was familiar with every living, breathing being in all Nine Realms... Surely... She must be some kind of traveler from another land... The way she spoke, the was she looked, the way she was dressed, the way she behaved... She was nothing like the log-brained women of these lands who thought wrestling a beer keg was the most attractive thing to a drunk man.

She was... Truly out of this world.

Finally, amidst wreckage and destruction, Katrina found her was back to the party, reuniting once more; Kratos had blood splattered on him, and Atreus was panting - Still, as soon as he saw her, the boy skipped in front of her and chirped happily. "We killed a God! Kat, we killed Magni!"

"Who is Magni?" the red haired Goddess looked in confusion at the young boy - And then it registered to her. "Wait - Did you just say - You killed a God?! Here?!" she crouched to his side, grabbing his face gently and analysing him from each side and angle. "You are not hurt anywhere, are you? Everything okay?"

"Yes, we're okay! Don't worry!" he smiled cutely. 

"Magni is one of Thor's sons - Magni and Modi - They attacked us when we went for the chisel." Mimir explained proudly. "Minor Aesir, yes - But Thor... Not minor at all."

"Hey, I just realised - Magni - He didn't come back to life!" Atreus pointed out, making Mimir hum in realisation.

"You said you killed him - He would just... Die... Right?" Atreus shook his head at her.

"It's known the Aesir find their own way to Valhalla. No Valkyrie escort, no processing at the gates of Helheim. THAT may be significant." the head explained to the Olympian.

"How fascinating - And scary." Katrina patted the boy's head. "What is dead may never die - Wonderfully done, Atreus. You have truly come a long way. I am sure your father is very proud of you - Is that right, Kratos?" she turned to look at the Spartan with a vixen look.

Kratos grunted under his breath, looking away. "Yes." he let out, making the boy blush and look down.

"Thank you, Father."

"Think nothing of it. They attacked us - I simply defended ourselves. I fear no judgement." the laconic one spoke simply. "Let us be on our way."

Back on the boat, the party was finally leaving that frozen wasteland; Mimir was telling yet another story, Kratos was rowing the boat, and Atreus, exhausted as he was, fell asleep leaning into Katrina's side. Smiling, she placed her arm over his body, bringing him into a warm embrace - Except, she also eventually got lulled into a quick nap, thanks to the head's stories.

How did a story about Freyja and Odin turn into a dream about herself into a moonlit forest, she did not know, but she was disorientated. Tall trees were surrounding her - So tall she could hardly see the stars peaking through. The snarls of wild animals brought her out of her wonder, and howls sent shivers down her spine. Soon, she was almost surrounded by a pack of starving wolves - And she could not use her powers. What an awful dream, she realised - With no way of waking herself.

Begrudgingly, she started to run in the opposite direction as fast as her legs could take her; Hermes' sandals weren't working, her powers weren't working - Was she supposed to become wolf food for her to wake up?

Finally, she reached a flower meadow, and she felt... A sense of calm and safety. She couldn't explain why, but seeing the silver light of the moon falling onto her made her feel like nothing in the world could hurt her; 

The wolves arrived soon after, but she was not afraid. 

The sound of heavy hooves pounding against the ground made her head snap in the opposite direction, and a large stag pranced in front of her, his large antlers throwing the predators away, making them run away yelping in fear and pain.

Katrina was in awe - Not only had she never seen a stag twice the size of a regular one, but... This one... He was so proud and imposing, with his head high and looking like a true King; His fur way silver, and glowing in the moonlight, with runes she could not understand painted onto it. His large antlers looked like silver or white gold, and they were adorned with jewellery of all kind. He stepped away from her, and offered one look - Large, purple eyes, glowing like two amethyst gems were looking at her.

"Thank you." she whispered in a voice that was mixed with love and admiration. Her hand slowly reached out, one foot was placed in front of the other, slowly taking steps towards it. "You saved me." but the more she approached, the more wary the mystical animal looked - And soon, in pranced away, fading into the forest like mist. "Wait, no - Do not leave me here - Please...!"

"Kat?" her eyes opened, yet her body remained still - Atreus calling her name woke her out of her daydreaming. "We arrived at Tyr's temple."

"Thank you. It seems I was daydreaming a little." she smiled sweetly... But the Spartan could sense something was not right. Still, he said nothing - Not yet.

They entered inside Tyr's vault and found a triptych about the very man - A God, yet loved by all, Giants included. But their attention was drawn to the sand bowl, not to the vague Tyr mural; Kratos urged his son to read the rune, but Atreus had another plan - 

"Come look - Let me show you how to read this." what a sweet boy! "You too, Kat! I'm sure all these weird runes must look confusing to you - Coming from another land and all that."

"That is not necess--" the son cut off his father.

"You've taught me so much." the boy insisted. "Let me teach you something."

Katrina's face was all a smile, and she was glowing with joy, seeing the two finally having positive interactions. "That is so sweet of you, Atreus! Truly!" she pushed Kratos towards his son, and she herself stepped forward. 

"Atreus..."

"Come on. You already speak it. Learning to read won't be that hard." Atreus kept going.

Kratos knelt by the sand bowl to get a closer look. "I know how to read, boy. Just not this tongue."

"And it is quite the difficult language." Katrina admitted sheepishly.

"You're halfway there already then." he pointed towards the sand. "Okay... So the runes represent a lot of different things. Some Gods, some animals, and some are--"

"Wait."

Kratos held his hand up, making the boy stop abruptly, looking apologetic. "Oh, am I going too fast? Sorry, I'll --"

"Not that. Do you smell something?" the two gods shared a look; 

"Yeah, I do. Smells like.... Rain?"

Rain? Thunder? Thor? Thor's son looking for revenge?

As soon as she realised that connection, Katrina threw her arms around Atreus and leaped out of the way of vengeance, as Modi, the other son of Thor, threw lightning from his weapon at the sandbowl. Kratos was sent flying away, but the other two were safe in a corner.

And then, Modi came into the scene; A burly man with ginger-yellow hair and bear like straw, a mace with which he held Kratos down with its lightning powers, and a shield in his other arm. He hardly looked dangerous, and yet...

"You ruined everything!" Modi growled angrily. "I earned that fucking hammer! But now everyone's gonna think I only got it 'cause Magni's gone! I'll be a JOKE!" how was that cheap lightning keeping the Spartan to the ground, Katrina wondered in shock. There was no way any power in the world was capable of overpowering the God of War, Kratos himself... Right? "But if I'll kill you --" he amped up the power of his lightning. "No one's gonna laugh at me!"

"No!!" Atreus got up, shooting an arrow at Modi - Which he easily deflected with his shield. The poor boy, seeing his lack of power, slowly approached his father, reaching out to him - But the lightning latched onto his arm also, hurting him.

"Wow, are you dumb." that comment, along with the profanity earlier, truly angered the Goddess. "That your father's doing, or did you get it from your mum? She stupid AND ugly?"

"SHUT UP!!" the boy tried to lash out at the Aesir, but Katrina immediately caught him mid air. "You don't know anything about my mother!!" he wiggled aimlessly in her arms. "Kat, let me go! Let me at him! I'll kill him!"

"Oh, that's true, but I'm gonna get to know you really well. You're gonna be my new brother... Right after I finish killing your father!"

"STOP IT!!! WAAA!!!!" in her arms, Atreus started glowing, roaring loudly... Similar to Kratos' Spartan rage. Alas, the boy was weak, and did not know about his true heritage - Instead of unleashing his powers, he fell limp into her arms.

"Atreus!" she carefully placed him onto the ground.

"Whoops... I think I broke him." the bastard laughed mockingly. 

"You will regret the day you were born into this world." Katrina was visibly angry; Glowing with green magic, vine tendrils flowing around from the underground latched onto Modi's mace, repeatedly plummeting him with his own weapon; Blood was spraying everywhere --- 

And the bastard ran away like a coward.

"Kratos." calming down, she ran to kneel by the boy's side. "We must go to Freyja right now. Only she knows the magic to save him." she placed her hands on the Spartan's face. "I can only keep him stabilised, thanks to his Greek heritage - But the other side of him is foreign to me, and my powers do not work on him."

"She is right, brother - There is no other way." Mimir urged the father to quickly pick up his child and follow the Goddess quickly towards Freyja's cottage - Instead of going slowly by boat, Katrina summoned a tendril bridge across the water sheen going through the witch's cave, close to the entrance where they went up by the elevator.

Kratos was pacing, step by step, back and forth with worry. The Goddess could do nothing except keep her hand on his arm, squeezing it. "The fever burns hotter. He is shaking." he looks at her with pleading eyes.

"Give him to me. Rush to Freyja's door and let her know we are here. I will be right behind." he nodded his head, placing his son into her arms to carry and nurture slowly across the wooden bridge to the witch's door.

"Freya! Open the door!" Kratos shouter, kicking and hitting her door desperately. "We need your help!" no answer. "Woman, do you hear me?! It is urgent!"

"I am still a God! Go away!" came her cheeky response.

"The boy has fallen ill!" that caught her attention. "Freya!" 

When it came to the child, the door was already open, and Freyja was met with Katrina and her soothing green magic engulfing the boy in her arms; By her side, an almost-trembling worried father, whose heart was breaking at the mere sight of his fainted, ill son. 

Freyja guided them inside swiftly. "This is no ordinary illness - The boy's true nature - YOUR true nature - Fights within him." she urged the goddess to place Atreus on the bed. Kratos knelt by his side, cupping his son's face.

"I did this to him...?" terrified, he looked up, begging the witch. "Will you help me?"

"Of course." she breathed out, sitting on the bed. "There is a rare ingredient found only in Helheim. The keeper that protects the Bridge of The Damned... I need its heart."

"Hel..." he grunted out loud.

"The Realm of the Dead. Do you know it?" the witch asked.

"Not this one..." but the land of Thanatos truly was terrifying. 

Freyja closed her eyes, her head tilted away as if reliving the dread of those forsaken lands. "It is a land of unyielding cold. Fire cannot burn there, and no magic in all the nine realms can create a blaze. As for the dead... Your frost axe will be useless. You'll need to find something else."

"Do you think my nature magic can work there? My Magic is not of these lands... Yet it hardly can count as fire." Katrina asked softly.

"It may work, but I cannot say to what extent." the witch spoke solemnly.

Kratos straightened his back, and looked resolute. With a heavy heart, he spoke. "Then I must return home..."

"Sparta?" the Goddess blurted out without thinking; For a second there, he thought Kratos would still consider his birthplace his 'home'... Clearly, no longer.

He didn't say anything at first; He looked down at his arms, his fingers trailing over the ghost of the chains seared painfully into the flesh of his forearm. "... I must dig up a past I swore would stay buried."

"... The Blades..." the red haired Goddess whispered, her eyes wide with surprise. "You took them with you...?"

"I had no choice." he muttered. "Everywhere I went, they followed. Cast in the deepest waters, burnt in the hottest blaze, frozen in the coldest mountains... Yet when I turned, they had already returned by my side."

Katrina sighed solemnly. "Thus goes the curse of Athena and Ares. They might be dead, but they will never stop being menaces." she understood him very well - Though not physically afflicted by their ill-will, she still flinched thinking of everything she went through, at the accord of the Gods. Were it not for Hermes and his love, she would have long given up on people and become one of the Hunters of Artemis... Or maybe become a Moon Sister for Selene...

"Who you were before doesn't matter. This boy is not your past - He is your son. And he needs his father." she grabbed his hand, drawing a rune in his palm to be able to open the bridge to Helheim; Then warned him not to cross the Bridge of The Damned under any circumstance known to mankind or any other race.

Freyja urged the Spartan to leave already and do his duty to his son - Alas poor man was stuck by his child's side, cradling him protectively. He was terrified to leave his side... Not out of mistrust of Freyja, but out of fear of anything happening to Atreus. "Worry not, Kratos. Neither of them can touch you anymore. We assured of that ages ago." Katrina placed her hands gently on her lover's face, making him look at her - Her kind, loving eyes that never failed to caress his heart with safety and warmth. "I will come with you back home. I will protect you from them."

"You must to stay with the boy." the Spartan replied gravely.

"I have done all I can for now. I will help you retrieve the Blades... And return when you must leave for Hel." she carefully kissed his brow. "Right now, you need me more than he does, Kratos."

"Whatever you decide to do - Just be on your way already. The situation is urgent." Freyja urged them to hurry up.

Kratos rose to his feet, took a few steps towards the door, and then stopped. "Freya." he breathed out. "Last we spoke... I was..."

"no. You are right to distrust the word of a god." despite their earlier altercation, the goddess knows best about the capricious and disloyal nature of gods. "No need to explain. Not to me. Not for that." her voice was tender and mellow, with hints of sorrow. "I will keep him safe. That's a mother's promise." 

With one last look at the boy, Kratos nodded at Freyja and exited her cottage, Katrina walking right behind him. Together they boarded the witch's boat to return to his home. Mimir tried to speak, but it was for naught - Kratos needed quiet... He needed peace of mind... Reassurance... His hands were held tightly together, his head bowed - Instead of Katrina, he could see opposite of him the arrogant smirk of Athena. O, how he dreaded that loathsome bitch, how glad he was that he killed her back then, even by accident.

The storm was raging, the animals were running away, the sky was blood red and the world was in disarray - But that was all in Kratos' mind. Katrina tried to reach out to him - But then stopped. Her arm fell down by her side, and for a second, she hesitated - Should she really disturb him? Touch him? Bother him out of his stupor?

She rose her hand back again, but before she could speak a word, the boat arrived upon land, and her opportunity to calm his mind was lost - He was already off the boat and meters ahead of her... He was always ahead of her... She could only ever see his back, never within reach... Always out of her reach...

Finally catching up to him, she saw the man knelt on the ground, with a blanketed item took from within the hidden trap in the floor... A red greek blanket that once unwrapped, revealed the old blades... His arms were shaking, his body was stiff, his mind in turmoil. Katrina knelt next to him, her hands taking hold of his own.

"You can do it, Kratos. I am right here. Atreus needs you." her sweet whispers breathed life and courage into him. "Ares is no longer here - Nor is Athena... Or Zeus." she went on. "The chains will not burn you any longer... They will not betray you again. They are yours alone to control from now on."

"Athena is speaking to me." he grumbled lowly, frustrated, angry, as he grabbed the chains of the blades and hesitating, he wrapped them, roll by roll, over his forearms.

"Athena is only in your head. She is not real." her hands grabbed the chains, helping him wrap them over his clothed flesh. "You do not answer to her any longer. You are the master of your own life. No one is left to dictate your fate - Everything in this world is forged with these two hands of yours, Kratos." her hands moved over his own, closing them in tight fists over the handles of the weapons. "No matter what may happen... No matter where you go... I will always be there to protect you."

"... Thank you." it was not often he thanked anyone, but this was his confidante for so many ages... He owed her plenty, yet offered her nothing.

She got up, extending her arms for him to take, helping him up. "Think nothing of it." she smiled sweetly at the man. "May this flower protect you, just like old times. May you return to me, safe and sound, and with your goal achieved." sheepishly, she placed her hands over his broad chest, getting on her tippy toes and stealing a kiss. "I have waited for you aeons. Do not make me wait any longer."

"I shall try." he grunted, turning to walk out of the cottage.

"Take care of him, okay, brother?" she playfully called out for Mimir.

"Aye, sister, I will!" and thus, the two were completely out of her sight; And with that, the Olympian sight, stepping out into the snow.

This little cottage once sheltered a loving family... A family she will never belong to, with a woman she could never replace. She could see clearly, Kratos loved Faye, the same he loved Lyssandra... And he loves Atreus the same he once loved sweet Calliope. She will never truly have a spot in his heart, it seemed... Yet her heart will never stop loving him all the same.

Even so, she did not feel hopeless as before... DIsappointed, yes, truly... Making such a journey to find a man who did not wait for her, and made a loving family for himself... A bittersweet outcome for the both of them... Yet with all that, she cannot truly fault him, not entirely. She had Hermes, and Hermes she loved more than life itself. Though a mere comfort at first, he become her home more than she could ever imagine... And now, she feels guilty and cold... She feels... Out of place.

The connection she once shared with Kratos seemed frozen... Perhaps out of grief, his heart broken, shattered, unwilling to mend itself; The mourning was far too fresh to heal, if ever it will... And Katrina knew best, there was no cure for a broken heart, no matter how loving one is.

Perhaps she should leave the Nord once she helps them achieve their goal. A long journey, yes... But she was unsure whether she had any place staying in this frozen wasteland any longer... No one holding her back...

Yet... That dream she had, of the mystical stag protecting her... What was that all about? She had plenty of dreams in her lifetime, but none quite like that. It felt... Like her soul was being embraced with love and purpose... A warmth of understanding and safety that she didn't feel before. It was something akin to her friendship with darling Artemis with whom she was bound with heart and friendship, yet also it felt... Intimate, in a way that only Aphrodite and Anteros would understand. It was a bond that transcended any planar universe and spiritual myths, all which she could not understand. Truly, this place was filled with mysteries.

Once she reached Freyja's cottage, she quickly sat back on the bed, tending to the boy - Or at least, the side of him that held Kratos' Greek blood.

The cottage was hushed, lit by low firelight and the eerie blue-green glow of protective runes dancing around Atreus’s unconscious body. Freyja murmured incantations under her breath, her hands steady as they floated over the boy’s brow. A sacred mist hung in the air, thick with herbs and subtle Vanir magic... Or maybe it was the famed Old magic, she was unsure. Katrina knelt beside the child, palms glowing faintly with her own nature power, stabilizing the child’s fevered breath.

Hours passed. Atreus’s color slowly returned. The worst was being held at bay — For the moment, at least.

For once, her thoughts were not occupied with images of home, of her family and friends, nor worries of Kratos - In her mind, she kept recalling the scene with the stag, dissipating into the forest like mist. She did not know how long she was absorbed by her thoughts - Until the witch stepped away from the child to brew some tea for the two of them. 

"Thank you, Lady Freyja." she smiled dearly, tasting the tea. "Hmm... Herbal, yet very sweet and aromatic, with a touch of honey. Just how I love it. You are an amazing tea-brewer."

"Thank you; I imagined you would be the sweet-tea type." she hummed, a small smile on her face. "Your mind is elsewhere, sister. What is bothering you?"

She thought she was being subtle, how rude of her! "Forgive me - I did not realise my transgression." she offered an apologetic smile.

"There is nothing to forgive." the witch spoke. "Kratos will be fine out there; And the child is safe, until his father arrives." she reassured her. "Yet, if I am not mistaken, your thoughts are on neither issue."

"You are correct." the red haired lady let out a breathy chuckle. "I had this dream recently, you see... A most peculiar dream, yet no less fascinating." she went on, looking at Freyja; Her voice was almost giddy, like a child. "I was in a moonlit forest... I could not use my powers, and I was being chased by a pack of wolves. I ran through the trees until I reached a meadow - And then a stag appeared out of nowhere, protecting me. It hit the wolves with his antlers, making them run away." Freyja's breath hitched in her throat - She knew what the dream represented... But... How could a foreigner have such a dream, when she herself never had one such dream? "The stag was twice as big as any I have seen before, fur was silver, shining with the moon; It had some kind of runes in his fur... The antlers were large, like silver, adorned with jewellery..." she did not know yet, but she was holding a most precious smile on her face - One of a woman truly mesmerised. "And his eyes... They were glowing with the most beautiful purple I have seen in my life. Those eyes were... So gentle when they looked at me... It was like... He could see me. Like no one's ever seen me before."

"Sister - What you are describing is what we call a 'fylgja dream'." Freyja explained. 

"Fyl-Gee-Jah?" Katrina tried to pronounce the difficult word, making Freyja pronounce it slower.

"Fylgja." she repeated herself. "A fylgja is a spiritual bond between two living beings... It is... Something very powerful, more ancient than even magic. Few are lucky enough to have one, and even fewer to meet their own." Freyja spoke with disappointment. "I, myself, had never dreamt of one." she continued. "The stag your dreamt of the is spiritual representation of your mate's soul. Likewise, when he dreams, he will not dream of you, but of the shape your soul will take in the astral planes of your dreams."

"... Are you saying a Fylgja is like a soulmate? A person bound by soul and love?" Katrina sounded almost terrified. "But - That cannot be. Kratos is my fated loved since long ago when Anteros, the God of Love, shot his arrows and it hit the two of us. There is no way there would be another... After so long..." she turned to look at Freyja with eyes that sparkled with confusion and... Something else. "... Could it?"

"Kratos may be your fated loved from your own homelands - But a fylgja is something deeper - Something that connects two people by their soul. It is not only the love of a wife and a husband, or that of two lovers - It is a love that transcends the boundaries of time and land. It is stronger than a friendship, stronger than trust." Freyja hesitated a little. "It is as if someone finally understand you wholly."

Katrina's eyes widened in surprise. "That is exactly what I felt looking into the stag's eyes!" she exclaimed. "So... This Fylgja... It manifested because I came into these lands? And the other person... It must mean they are also from here, then? And... Not Kratos."

"I fear so." Freyja nodded solemnly. "And... The only being I know with purple eyes is an Aesir named Heimdall."

"Heimdall... As in, the seer? What were they saying... Watchman of Asgard...?" the lady tried to recall things that weren't insults about the very God.

"And quite literally one of the biggest assholes I have ever met, and coincidentally, Odin's lap dog - May Nature protect you, sister, if your fylgja is truly him." Freyja's words were spat with disgust.

"I... I met a stranger with purple eyes a little while ago - By the frozen northern dock where Thamur fell. I found him on a mountain peak, throwing insults to a dead flower." she explained softly. "He thought I was a mortal, yet when I healed the flower, he spoke no more of his profanities."

"Did you touch him?!" the witch sounded visibly allarmed.

"I -- Yes, I did. I placed the flower in his hair - Very beautiful gold hair styled in complex braids." and she also kissed his cheek, but she didn't feel recalling that memory out loud would have made the Vanir Goddess any happier.

Freyja started muttering under her breath agitated - No doubt, curses, Katrina thought to herself. "Do yourself a favour and try to stay as far away as possible - You hear me? He is dangerous - Not only to you, but for everyone. He is merciless, arrogant - And loyal to a fault to Odin only. He sees things others can't - He hears thoughts, reads minds - Sister, he will be your worst nightmare... And your own undoing." her warning was sharp and vehement.

"But... He did not pull away from my touch. It felt... It felt right." she tried to reason with the witch - But she shook her head, sighing in sorrowful resignation.

"It will not be easy, I know - Your hearts are already calling to each other. You are already connected. But listen to me, Kat - A fylgja can be a blessing... Or a curse, especially when the one you're bound to was never meant to love."

Katrina gulped and spoke no more; How could it be, that an innocent dream turned into such a fright? A being that protected her couldn't possibly attack her... Wish her ill... Could it? No, it was... It was impossible. Still, she didn't feel compelled to speak again, nor did she need to, for thankfully, Kratos arrived just in time to spare her the awkwardness of silence.

Freyja snatched the frozen heart from the Spartan's hands then rushed to the cauldron, throwing it right in the boiling concoction; As he knelt to the boy's side, the witch brought the glowing blue magical liquid, placing the bowl on his chest so he can inhale the cinders and mist.

She then told him the story of her son... Of how she tried to protect her son from the prophecy that predicted his death... And yet, in the end, she did nothing but make him hate her. She thought herself selfish and arrogant for trying everything in her power so save her child...

Atreus woke up with a gasp and hopped to his feet. He still looked pale and dizzy... And sad. Even still, he was in the right condition to travel. As a silent thank you, Freyja and Kratos held each other's arm, squeezing softly and nodding at each other. He will never forget her kindness.

Once again, they left through the back door to reach the boat; Even when he hopped in the boat, the child was quiet... Brooding. He must have overheard their talk. He remained silent.

"Why do you say nothing?" his father asked, the rope of the boat over his shoulder so he can carry it into the waters.

"You said I was cursed." Atreus spoke serenely. "You think I'm weak because I'm not like you. I know I was never what you wanted... But... After all this, I thought... Maybe things were different."

"Child... You misunderstood your father's words." the Goddess sighed, patting the boy's head. "You are not weak because you are not like his father - You are weak because you are just like him." and once again, she spoke in riddles.

"You are wrong, Kat... And at least I know the truth now." he spoke almost spitefully, slowly pushing her hand away.

"The truth..." Kratos stopped walking and contemplated. He briefly looked back at the Goddess. "The truth." she nodded at him, encouraging him to speak. He turned back to look forward, and spoke. "I am a god, boy." his voice was loud and clear. "From another land, far from here - The same land as Katrina." he spoke. "When I came to these shores, I chose to live as a man... But the truth is... I was born a god. And so were you." his words were grave and solemn. "Boy? Have you nothing to say?" the father's heart was tiny with fear at what his son's reaction will be.

Kat looked at the boy - He was puzzled, if anything. "I'm... Can I... Turn into an animal...?"

"Can you... Turn... Into an animal...?" Kratos, repeating his son's words, made the Goddess laugh copiously.

"You two are so adorable!" she leaned back on the boat, almost falling over.

THe man shook his head, pulling the boat again, making both the others lose balance a little. "No... No, I do not think so." he spoke simply, incredulous at the childish and outlandish question he just received. 

"I'm a god! Mother knew? She was a god too?" the boy asked very curious and excited.

"No, she was mortal, but she knew my true nature." he said plainly. 

"I'm a god...!" he exclaimed breathlessly. "Why did you wait so long to tell me?" he asked curious.

Kratos got onto the boat, sitting down and placing his head over his child's cheek, having a heart-to-heart with him. "I had hoped to spare you." he breathed out. "Being a god... It can be lifetime of anguish and tragedy. That is the curse."

"What sorts of things can I do?" the child asked immediately. "Can I fly? Or turn invisible?" he looked down briefly. "I... Do not feel like a god."

"I do not know the reach of your godhood, but over time, we will learn." Kratos pushed the boat off the shore with his oar. 

"You sure I can't turn into a wolf?" the boy asked once again.

"You are welcome to surprise me." his father answered. 

"Kat, what can you do? I mean - You're just like a witch, but not quite! You're a god - Like Freyja!" he looked at the lady who smiled sweetly at him.

"As you saw previously, I govern over nature itself. I feel the energy of life itself... And, on certain occasions, I have lovely chats with squirrels." she giggled sweetly.

"How cool... Do you think I'll be able to do that too?" he inquired immediately.

"Who know? It does take a while for your powers to manifest, I suppose. Forgive me, many centuries passed by, I remember little of my childhood." the lady scratched the back of her head sheepishly. "I just knew I was drawn to the nature itself, so I spent most of my time in the forests."

"Every god is unique, lad. You will figure it out." Mimir chimed in after so long.

"So... Maybe I won't get strong like father... But I'll have abilities all of my own?" he asked, tilting his head to the side like a cute puppy.

"You already do, laddie! Your faculty for language is extraordinary for one so young." the head praised him. "Time alone will tell what else you'll become capable of."

"And thankfully, there is plenty of time ahead of us." the lady added.

And with this realisation, the veiled truth coming out, the party was free to return to Tyr's vault, back at the sand bowl where they were previously attacked by that cowardly Modi, ready to embark on a new journey and find their way to Jotunheim and finish their quest.

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[darkdevasofdestruction]

Chapter 10 - Tormenting Reminiscences

The party of three ventured forward into Alfheim, meeting radiant beauty mixed with carnage and black blood spilled from its inhabitants. An eternal war was being fought over the light - The young one, naive as ever, could not grasp the notion that, if both parties need the light, can't they just share?

No, life was never that easy, especially for eternal beings like themselves. Greed was their fuel, Greed was their grave. Dark Elf murdering Light Elf - Light Elf, murdering Dark Elf. The cycle was never ending, and thus, they were caught up in the middle of a civil war over the right to the Light, the source of life.

Why were they being attacked - Foreigners, innocent and having nothing to do with their conflict? It mattered little - Simple casualties of war, like many others.

Soon, they met Sindri forging hard under his make-shift workshop tent, offering his assistance in upgrading some of their armor and weapons; Finally, Kratos had warmed up a little around the little man who seemed to be minding his business politely - Unlike his more vulgar blue counterpart.

Venturing further into the new realm, they found a boat and rowed down the river. The Spartan asked his son of any insight he had from his mother's wisdom and tales, though it seemed that Faye didn't speak much of Alfheim, save for the never-ending war and isolation of the Elves.

There was, however, one little peculiarity that Katrina noticed, though thought little of at the moment, was young Atreus asking thrice whether either of them spoke something - He couldn't be hearing voices or whispers, she thought, until he started clutching his head and screaming in agony; He heard voices, screaming, and they were angry, though fleeting - A transitory agony that briefly overwhelmed the poor child. 

"You... Really didn't hear that...?" Atreus whispered, only the earn a negative answered from both concerned adults. Could it be that they were unaffected by the evil of the land because they were not borne of it? Or because of their protective Godhood? "It felt... Evil." he went on, unsure and shaken, before resuming his seat on the boat, and eventually dropped the subject.

The scenery venturing forward towards the Light was stunning, yet somber. On a small island, they hopped off, finding a familiar riddle - "Without me or within me death is sure; Yet within you I am life most pure." - Atreus read out loud for them both to think over. With no runes around, they had to figure out both the answer, and the location of the runes. 

Back in the boat, Kratos went on to row them to another island; Atreus spoke with the innoce of a child of his views on war - And his father, the seasoned warrior that he was, spoke of a soldier's love for war and carnage of the enemy. They were two opposites that could never understand the other's sight. They were too far apart to understand each other, the Goddess sighed to herself, yet one thing was evident, and that was Kratos' pure love of his child, and his constant worry over his well-being.

"So... What do you mean 'I see with the eyes of a child'?" Atreus asked, back in the boat - The stories were for the boat only, his father said.

"In war, a soldier sees beauty only in the blood of his enemy." Kratos explained. "The rest of him is lost - Sometimes, never to return." what a hopeless thing to admit, Katrina hummed in agreement; He, of all people, would know of blind rage and bloodlust.

"You... Know about war... Don't you." the boy stuttered a little, almost pitying his father.

"Wars are fought for two things... Survival, or advantage." the God of War spoketh. "Battles may be won by the better soldier; Wars are won by those who are willing to sacrifice everything to ensure victory." the red haired lady felt goosebumps on her arms, and she rubbed her skin lightly, looking away.

"There is no point in speaking of such dark points, is it?" she muttered in a soft voice, soothing their souls briefly into calming down. "War does not concern us. Our quest does."

On yet another island, they fought plenty of enemies, and ventured deep into the wilderness until they reached some kind of complex mechanism that Kratos had to operate and destroy the peculiarly lighted branches - All that to open a door and find a treasure containing an amulet of protection, which she handed to the Goddess. "You do not need my protection, yet I would rather not risk your safety on a journey you did not wish to embark."

Katrina smiled up at the man and his tender words, accepting the amulet and placing her hand gently onto his rough, scarred face. He felt such a sense of relief and warmth that he had missed for so long. He loved Faye, and he loved Lysandra all the same, all for their own unique reasons - All women in his life offered him only gifts; His mother instilled strength into him, Lysandra gave him the love no mortal ever deserved, Aphrodite offered him euphoria, and Faye gave him purpose and solace... Yet Katrina... She was different, for in her arms it was the only time he felt safety and peace. He felt terrible betraying any of their trust, yet neither could replace the other in his heart, each of them having their own special place in his frozen, hardened heart.

"Sindri said mother was a warrior." Atreus was trying hard to make conversation with his laconic father, without letting his curiosities overflow too hard. "Was she in a war too?"

"Of a sort." his father replied. "Her family was decimated by hostile rivals, and she alone survived." he explained. "She walked the warrior's path, but her war was to live on - To brave an unforgiving world alone."

"And that's why she asked Sindri and Brok to make her the Axe?" the star-eyed boy asked his father. 

"She had the strength to wield such a weapon, and the wisdom to use it for good. She found purpose in protecting the weak."

"She sounds like an amazing and fascinating woman." Kat smiled sweetly at the Spartan.

"So... She'd help out the Elves?" the boy asked. What a silly and naive little boy. He received a strong negative answer.

Finally, they found the blue door, yet to reach it they had to cross a bridge of light, which was snatched from their grasp - The Elves were trying hard to prevent reinforcements to shift away the tides of battle. Dark Elf, Light Elf, both jumped into the fight against the intruders, and against themselves to protect what is most sacred for them, yet in the light of the Leviathan Axe, none could survive.

With another contraption to manipulate, Kratos was able to create a monument which, with its reflection into the water, created the shape of a rune - And thus they were back in the boat, rowing across the black waters, with Atreus having one more question for his father. "Have you ever heard of other people hearing voices?" he asked.

"I knew desperate men at sea who, when our supplies ran dry, would quench their thirst by drinking seawater." he spoke of his recollections. "They wore the sirens - Evil creatures singing to them from nearby islands - Were in fact their wives and daughters calling them home." he went on. "They endangered the crew, steering us toward the reefs."

"Uhm..." Atreus was flabbergast, perplex, and slightly astonished. "How did you fix them?"

"We threw them overboard." in the silence created by his solemn answer, and the boy's shocked 'Oh', Katrina couldn't help but let out an amused chuckle of merry. She was happy the years did not make her soulmate any dull.

"Good thing you didn't drink any seawater then, Atreus!" she giggled at the blushing boy.

"Indeed." his father grunted back.

Finally, going around the lake, returned to the pedestal which hosted the riddle, on top of which they stood, and the forming ornaments erected from the water aligned perfectly and formed a most intricate and elegant elvish rune, as the boy pointed out - The boy guessed right that the answer was 'Water', yet just as he spoke so, he fell to his knees once more, holding his pained head - The voices were begging for help this time.

"We are here for the Light. I do not care who they are or what they want." Kratos spoke sternly - Getting mixed up in a war they did not belong to only screamed trouble for the well-being of their quest.

"You never care about anything..." Katrina felt herself hurt hearing such an awful comment directed from a son to his father.

"Do you have something to say?" he asked his son, who looked away from his and fiddled around the pedestal, murmuring a negative answer. How incredibly upsetting, seeing their relationship, when Katrina knew so well how much Kratos loved sweet Calliope.

Her sadness turned to amazement as Atreus spoke out loud the riddle, and the runes parted the lake, holding a bridge in its stead - Before they were attacked by hornet-like Elvish enemies, the boy mentioned meekly that he thought he heard... His mother. Kratos vehemently denied such possibility - It was absurd - And painful. Their battle was not an easy one, but they killed their enemies, and went on, along the ruins overgrown with vegetation, towards the Light. 

Further and further inside the hornets' nest, they restored multiple light bridges leading to the core of the well-defended fortress, until finally they reached the blue door of the Ringed Temple... But how were they to open a door that could not be opened? How disappointing, having to look for another way in. Just around, they found Sindri again, and a Jotun mural, depicting a Giant sorceress named Groa, who had visions - Atreus was trying his best deciphering the shrine, but couldn't understand if Odin killed her for a book or something similar. 

Finally, going inside some kind of great building conclave with architecture similar so insectoid hives, they got closer to the core, and to the Light - Just within arm's reach.

"It's... Beautiful." the boy said, stepping closer to it. "It's making the whole temple reappear." his hands were almost touching the bright, blinding light. "Wait - It's singing! I hear... I hear her! I told you I heard her!" the boy was overjoyed, hearing his mother's voice. "Do you think she's in there?!" in his excitement, he involuntarily touched the Light - And got electrocuted and pained. "Urgh... That really hurt. Felt like my hand was on fire."

"Maybe we should not be touching such a dangerous entity." Katrina suggested wearily, noticing that such a painful wound left no physical trace on the boy's hand. 

"Stay with him." Kratos looked at his soulmate with determination in his eyes, an unspoken pact forging between them, before he looked at his son, handing over his Axe. "Only use it as a last resort." he warned. 

"You're giving me your Axe?" the boy was almost afraid, yet overwhelmed with joy and wonder at being allowed to hold his father's own weapon - The one that belonged once to his mother.

"I am letting you hold my Axe." he corrected his eager son. "It is not a gift."

"Kratos..." Kat placed her hand over his shoulder, giving it a soft squeeze. "Please - Do be careful." she smiled, before stepping away next to Atreus.

Once inside the Light, Kratos heard whispers of his son's regret... Of his son wishing for his mother back, and how sad he was, being all alone with... Him... And absent father who did not want to bond with his own son, who undermined and belittled him... Who doesn't understand him...

It should have been him dead, not her - Atreus loves Faye, not him...

Except...

He does not mean all that.

Atreus loves his Father... He just wants his Father to take a step toward him... To try to reach out... To understand him... To be better and put some effort into being a Father not just in name, but in role also...

And then there she was... So close, yet so far from his reach, his wife, his beloved Faye, humming a lullaby and reaching out to him... He was so close to seeing her... To holding her... And then...

He was ripped back from his reveries, and dragged to reality, where his terrified son was screeching at him angrily, and his worried lover was holding him down onto the ground, not allowing him to return and reach into the Light.

"WHY DID YOU DO THAT?!" Kratos screamed angrily at the two.

"WE SAVED YOU!" Atreus screamed back at him. "You were TRAPPED in there! I waited, but you wouldn't come out -- So we pulled you out!!" he was exhausted, poor boy.

"BOY!" Kratos slowly started sitting up. "I was gone only---" yet he stopped himself, seeing the carnage and blood surrounding him. "... moments." he breathed out in disbelief.

"NO!!!" Atreus yelled his frustrations. "YOU'VE BEEN GONE A LONG, LONG TIME!!!" he was coughing again from overexerting himself. "I DIDN'T KNOW WHAT TO DO! YOU LEFT ME HERE - AGAIN!! WHY DON'T YOU CARE?!" he continued his hurt monologue, blaming his father for his lack of judgement. "WHY DO YOU ALWAYS LET SOMEONE ELSE TAKE CARE OF ME?! MUM - AND NOW KAT -- DO YOU REALLY HATE ME SO MUCH?!" 

Atreus stepped away from his father; Kat only sighed, getting up and making her spear return back to its flower shape, and into her hair. She offered her hand for the man to take and raise to his feet. "Look - There's our exit - But there's no light to make a bridge. We're trapped. And the witch's bowstring is useless."

Kat noticed the odd item in Kratos' hand, and raised it slightly to her eyes, looking at him questioningly; He then stepped towards his son and asked for his bow, caressing the string with the item, making it sparkle with blue light and glow beautifully with the imbued magic, forging the bridge to make their way back.

Thankfully, their way out was much easier than before, and returned to the blue door, where they found another rune which depicted the word 'Seed', and the riddle that went as followed - "Greatest man nor tallest tree / Begins as any more than me." and with a hit, the blue door got illuminated with the rune, and they could enter - With a bunch of Light Elves, all dressed from head to toe into white garments ressembling ghosts, floated past them eerily.

They used a lift to go under the structure, with barely any light to guide their way, fighting shadows and darkness at every corner threatening their journey.  Once they reached another lift, Atreus did some of his magic and got the pedestal to move them upwards - Yet not without his mocking sass. "Boy... Read this. Boy... What's that say?" he taunted his father's laconic gruff tone. "Only time when you talk to me is when you --"

"Do you want to say something?" his father's voice was a tough warning.

"I said - The ONLY time you care to talk to me is when you need me to translate for you!" thus came the boy's frustrations. "If MOM was here -- "

"If your mother was still alive, we would not be here at all." silence overtook them. "Atreus..."

"Forget it." the boy sighed in defeat.

"Fine."

Katrina couldn't help but roll her eyes - Truly, she's had enough of these two and how badly they were doing... Though she felt like the spare wheel of a chariot and she was dearly regretting leaving home and the comfort of Hermes' arms, for this cold realm that held only regret and spite. She did not miss the fight, the war, the blood shed, nor did she miss the family arguments. Were Hermes present, he would have been able to make a joke and light up the atmosphere, or whip out his lyre and create a ridiculous ballad to make the kid laugh...

Alas, she was not home with Hermes, nor was she singing with Apollo, or dancing with Artemis and the nymphs, she wasn't cooking with Hestia, or practicing magic with Hekate, gossiping with Aphrodite or admiring butterflies with Anteros.

She was all alone, with yet another betrayal, in a lonely and isolated cold realm, with a desolate lover and a petulant child. Truly, she missed Lysandra and sweet Calliope more and more each day...

"So...? Was she in the light?" the boy asked, once they boarded the boat again, to which the father played ignorant. "You know..."

"No." came his answer. "She was not there."

"Not like you would even care if she was..." the boy frowned at his father, getting up and looking at him accusatory.

Kratos, in turn, shifted towards him, scolding his son for his cheeky tongue. "Mind your tongue, boy. Until our journey is over, one of us must remain focused." he warned sternly. "Do NOT mistake my silence for lack of grief!" he slowly shifted back into his seat. "Mourn how you wish - Leave me to my own."

Atreus looked down in shame and grief. "I'm sorry... I didn't realise..." 

"No. Why would you?" Kratos said, looking fixated at his son. "You do not know my ways." he continued in a more tender tone. "I know it has not been easy." he admitted. "In the light, I felt only moments pass, if that is any comfort to you."

"That's... Really good to know. Really." the boy sounded a little more uplifted - Kat wasn't, on the other side, feeling caught between a hammer and an anvil.

They came back to Sindri and left towards Midgard, or the realm of the people; Going towards the tree of the Bifrost, Atreus admitted that in Alfheim it was not the first time she heard voices, but that also, when they first met Brok, he could sense that his animal companion was afraid of something hiding in the forest. How fascinating.

Speaking of Brok, they met him again, and bad mouthed Sindri before enhancing the Leviathan Axe - And then, it was time to use the Bifrost Light imbued into the item Kratos brought from Alfheim to pass through the dreadful Black Breath blocking their way to the mountain top.

The Spartan went first, stepping surely and carefully up each step, dissipating the shadows - Once there was no more of that shadowy mist, he gestured for the other two to join in and climb up the mountain into a cave even darker than the dark void. Deep inside the mountain, they found an emblem ressembling that of the god Tyr, and yet another riddle which had the solution 'Freedom' Atreus guessed - And the stag headed statue sitting on the throne hit his scepter on the ground a few times before it illuminated golden light onto a wall, rendering it into an open door. 

Up and down the mountain they went, until they reached the heart of it, and met all the machinery that seemed to be mining inside. Perhaps some race living here used to gather resources from this place - Not just any race though, said Atreus - Giants; But these Giants were not giant in size also, but only in name. How very peculiar.

After yet another vulgar encounter with the blue dwarf, they went on, fighting many undead and even one big blue troll which got its head squished by Kratos with its own blue crystal. They even found a Giant Prayer where they asked their ancestors to guide and protect them home - Atreus lit up the floating paper candle and let it fly into the darkness of the cave, sending the prayer into the void. 

Smiling, Kat stepped next to Kratos and nudged him forward - With a soft glare, the Spartan went by his son's side... And placed his hand over his son's shoulder. "What did you write?"

"I asked them to watch over mother." the boy spoke in a sweet tone. "Do you think they'll watch over us on our way to the top?" Atreus shifted to look up at his father.

"Come, boy. It is a long way up." the laconic one said lowly, braving the first steps forward.

"I am sure they will, young one." the lady patted his head, smiling dearly at him. The boy seemed rather appeased, having such a moment with his father for once.

Up the lift they went again, they fought more senseless draugr; Waiting to reach the top, Atreus looked at the red haired beauty, then at his father, and spoke again. "After we scatter mother's ashes... What then? What comes next?"

"Nothing comes next. We go home." the father answered solemnly.

"That's it? The adventure is over?" the boy was shocked to hear.

"For now - But we will have much to do." Kratos said. "You were right earlier - On the boat after cutting down the last tree. You said it felt like something had changed - And it has. And our home is no longer safe." Atreus looked at his father like a sad puppy. "But it will be again - And we must continue your training."

"Okay." the boy agreed. "Can Kat come with us, father?"

Kratos and Katrina shared a quick look - The girl had an amused look on her face, the Spartan not so. "If she so wills."

"If you want me to, I will, Atreus." the boy got cheerful again.

"That's great! And look - We're almost at the summit - Nothing's gonna stop us--"

But as the child thus spoke, a giant lightning was thrown their way, and the God had to hold back his child as a large dragon attacked them. "Well this is definitely something you do not see every day." the Goddess chuckled, summoning her spear.

She was using her magic to attack him, while Kratos was nipping away at its large legs - It did not fight long before it fled, but it was quite the worthy battle regardless - But there was more to come; Once they exited the mountain, they heard a familiar scream - It was Sindri, being chased around by the dragon.

"Can you kill something that big?" Atreus looked with a pleading look at his father - He might not have wanted to save the Elves, but Sindri was... Sindri! Sindri was their friend, and he helped them a lot on their journey! Surely even someone as cold as Kratos would agree to help a friend - Right?

"We have encountered far greater foes than this drake whelping, young Atreus." Katrina grinned at the mesmerised look on the boy's face. "Surely, you did not grow old, did you, Kratos?"

Kratos glared at his lady companion and gruffed, looked at the dragon and pondered. "You have grown reckless."

"Thank Artemis for that." with a cheeky wink, Katrina, powered up by her trusty Hermes boots, swiftly bolted up the mountain wall and by Sindri's side, making Atreus look at her with a gaping jaw.

"Wh-What is she doing?! She can't -- All by herself -- We have to help her!" the poor boy was freaking out, only to feel his father's hand on his shoulder.

"Do not mistake her boredom with lack of care. She might not be a warrior at heart... But to know peace, is to know war." he did not understand his father's words - But one thing he did, and that was that the beautiful woman accompanying them was an old companion of his father, and she was capable of keeping herself alive without their help.

"O-Okay..." Atreus nodded his head with determination. "I can distract him."

"Break right. Find an angle. Wait for my mark." were his father's clean and precise instructions.

"Thank you." he nodded once again in appreciation, and with one last second spent bonding, Atreus ran towards the right, towards Sindri, yelling insults at the dragon and shooting arrows to annoy him.

Kratos sprinted towards the Dragon's blind spot, then hopped on its back, and up his head, slamming his axe into it, then rolling onto the ground. Once everyone was in the same spot, the dragon inhaled deeply, as if to swallow them - Kratos pushed his son behind the rocks to shield him; Katrina used her magical vines to latch onto a rock and jump upwards, then wrapped them around its mandible and maxillary, struggling to keep them open so Kratos would jump inside his mouth and ravage the beast.

Atreus took Sindri to hide up onto the platforms, to run away while the Spartan was fighting the lightning dragon and the Olympian was lasering it with her green earth magic. She summoned the roots buried deep underneath the earth to coil around its paws while her partner was throwing exploding crystals at it.

At his mark, Atreus was supposed to lower the crane above the dragon and use it to bring an end to the dragon, reminiscent to the aquatic beasts they encountered in the past, in Greece. The God of War  grabbed onto the crane, one side impaling the dragon's face, while the other speared into the other side - With great strength, Kratos killed the dragon and rolled onto the ground to safety, watching the terrible foe slowly fall down, like many others before it.

"You did not get rusty, my dear." Katrina was a few steps forward - Carefully, he extended his hand to hold her arm, bringing her by his side protectively.

"You did." he commented as the dragon fell down, its open mouth just around them two. Were she not moved, it would have fallen on her.

"Good thing I have got you to protect me." she smiled cheekily, earning a huff from the man. He turned around, popping his shoulder and smirking in triumph. He still got it within him, he thought to himself smugly, as his son ran up to him, completely out of breath and fascinated by how cool their fight was.

"Nobody's killed a dragon in hundreds of years...! Not since the Grand Culling of the Wyrms!" Sindri exclaimed, completely mortified, looking at the slain dragon. "A-And unless I'm mistaken, you did all that... For me!"

"Yep!" Katrina popped playfully, but Kratos's response overshadowed her.

"You are mistaken." he spoke sternly. "The dragon was simply in our path... Nothing more." the comment earned a giggle from the woman.

"You deny it all you want - But you saved me! And that... Deserves compensation!" he took out a bunch of green arrows from his bag, handing them over to Atreus. "Braided mistletoe arrows. Straighter than Heimdall and perfectly weighted."

"Who is Heimdall?" Katrina asked cluelessly.

"An all-seeing, all-hearing, know-it-all with a spear up his--" Sindri began with his usual snark, only to be silenced by Kratos' warning glare. He did not tolerate vulgar words around either his son and women. "Ahem. Forgive me. Let me rephrase that. He's kinda like... The Guardian... Watchman... Thingy of Asgard. Golden hair, golden teeth... Golden ego... Eyes and ears sharper than a needle in your boot. That stuck up little... Ahem -- He is a foresight-haver, so he's probably even hearing me say these things right now -- Hi, Heimdall! I'm sure you're offended! Good for you, little guard puppy!"

Katrina blinked in confusion at the dwarf, who, after Kratos got a Dragon fang, told the Spartan to use it on his son's bowstring to empower it with Shock magic. "Kat doesn't know what Asgard is. She's new around." Atreus smiles at her. "Asgard is the realm of the Gods - And like Sindri said, Heimdall is one of the Aesir Gods protecting the realm. He is like a watchman guarding the bridge to Asgard and can predict things before they happen. Mother said no one - Not even Odin himself - Is capable of touching Heimdall, let alone hurt him, because he can predict your every move."

"Oh! That sounds just like my husband, Hermes from back home! Witty, charming, swift and... A pain in everyone's... Behind." Atreus never heard Katrina's laugh being so pure and crystalline - It was beautiful, and he felt... Refreshed, like cold spring water. "Nevertheless... Foresight was never his strong suit. His poetic insults could anger even the most calm person alive." Kratos grunted. He did not want to hear of the Olympians again.

"Whoa, you are married? Really?" Atreus saw the lady nod her head. "What is he like? He sounds so cool!"

"Well... Let us see... Hermes could outrun wind and thought; He would race sunbeams, just to bring me flowers before breakfasts - And always with a sweet rhyme." Kratos looked away; He was glad he did not kill Hermes, for he took good care of his soulmate - But, in a small proportion, knowing she was so happy with another stung his already pained heart. No. He was better, wiser, older... He could not allow his selfishness to rule over his judgement any longer. Her well-being went above his feelings for the gorgeous Goddess.

"So cool! Can I meet him one day? Please, Kat? Pleeease?! Can we go to your home after we scatter mother's ashes? Pretty please?" the girl laughed sweetly, patting his head dearly.

"If your father wishes to, I would not oppose that." Kratos however, said nothing and went on ahead, calling them over.

"Stories are for the boat and campfire. We have no time to waste." the Spartan ordered, walking ahead.

"Jeez... Why is he so uptight." Atreus muttered, falling in line next to the Goddess.

"Hermes had an awful habit of insulting your father with every opportunity he had. Needless to say... Your father did teach him a well-deserved lesson." she giggled, not very fond of the memory, but still glad her husband was spared.

"No way - Father? So violent?" he gasped, looking up in shock at the lady - There was no way his silent-as-a-lake father would ever retort to violence just like that! He was too... Disciplined and uptight.

"I do love my husband very much, but... He asked for that beating with every venomous word he spewed." she giggled awkwardly, keeping the boy close to her.

"Will you tell me some of his rhymes? Or stories with him, from back home?" the boy held onto her sleeve. He was so cute and innocent.

"When we next rest, I shall be telling you of any stories you wish for, young one." it was a promise.

Venturing through the last bit of the mountain, they found a Jotun shrine depicting one person called 'Ymir', but Atreus did not recall the stories told as a child by his mother. And finally, they had reached the summit of the mountain. After fixing Atreus' quiver strap, the boy ran further into the snow, towards the highest peak. "I will never get used to this cold... White snow. It is so foreign to the heat I am used to." the red haired lady spoke, taking off her sandals and stepping carefully. "It feels so... Weird... But soothing." still, where she stepped, snow melted and grass spawned, along with blooming flowers. "Oops. I did it again. Forgive me." quickly, she put back her sandals and followed the boy ahead.

Climbing the mountain wall, they heard four voices bantering - Three of them were threatening the other into telling them where Kratos and his son were... The single one refused vehemently. The foes backed down, for the moment.  It was a man trapped into the deep coils of a tree - He looked distraught and old... Tormented just like Prometheus used to be, with that bloody bird eating away at his liver.

Atreus was told to check the others left - Kratos and Katrina approached the old man. "He doesn't know what you are - Either of you."

"And I would keep it that way." Kratos replied solemnly. "Who are you?"

"Me? I'm the greatest ambassador to the Gods, the Giants, and all the creatures of the Nine Realms. I know every corner of these lands, every language spoken, every war waged, every deal struck. They call me - MIMIR! - smartest man alive, and I have the answer to your every question." he sure wasn't underplaying his achievements.

"Why does the son of Odin hunt us?" came the fated question.

The old man hesitated. "Okay, there are a few gaps in my knowledge. Odin's had me imprisoned here for... 109 winters." pitiful. "I'm a clever lad, I can piece it together, I promise... Just... Given time."

"Nobody there... Just like I said." Atreus returned from his scouting. 

"The boy's mother is dead. She wished her --" Atreus cut his father off.

"She wanted us to spread her ashes on the highest peaks of all the realms." the boy explained.

"Oh, then you've come to the wrong place, little brother. The highest peak in all the realms is not here in Midgard - It's in Jotunheim, Realm of the Giants." came the knowledgeable man.

"NO!" the boy let out an angry, frustrated shout.

"Well... That complicates things a little." the lady took a peak to see just how high up they were - It was a long way down.

"That could not be what she meant..." Kratos was... Confused and disorientated, for once.

Using his single eye, golden and glowing, to show the party a holographic vision of the finger-like mountain peaks from Jotunheim, Mimir explained he was the only person alive who knew how to get them to the Realm of the Giants, as they destroyed all bridges, and the Bifrost light was useless.

They were going to Jotunheim. 

"First you have to cut off my head." Mimir spoke serenely.

"Sorry, what?" Katrina and Atreus both were shocked.

"Odin made sure that no weapon, not even Thor's hammer, could free my body from these bonds." he spoke. "But fortunately, you don't need my body." Atreus tried his knife against the roots and liana, but not even a little cut. "The trick is, we need to find someone who can reanimate my head using the Old Magic."

Atreus looked at Katrina. "You're a witch - Can you do that?"

The Goddess frowned - She raised her arm up; Green glow emerged from her, and the wind blew strong, leaves and grass blades were flying blindly -- But Mimir's tree was untouched. "Forgive me. My homeland magic does not seem to be able to counter the old magic of these lands."

"Then... The witch of the woods. She knows the old ways." Kratos muttered under his breath. 

"And she'll help? She might do. Worth a try!" Mimir exclaimed quickly. 

"But if she cannot revive you... You will die." Katrina placed her hand on the old man's face. She could feel his dread, his frustration, his hopelessness.

"He tortures me, you know. Every day, sister." he admits, his voice filled with agony. "Odin himself sees to it personally... And believe me, there is no end to his creativity." he breathed out. "Every. Single. Day." his words were strong. "This... This isn't living."

"Odin... Your All-Father..." Katrina spoke softly. "Zeus, our homeland's All-Father... He tied up the titan Prometheus for stealing the fire from the Olympians and gifting it to the humans. He was so enraged that he had an eagle eating away at his liver for all eternity... And he would heal him... And torture him again... Every day..." her voice became a whisper. "Until we put him out of his misery."

"Whatever the outcome, sister... I do not want to die in this place. Not to Odin. Not like this." Katrina stepped away, looking at Kratos.

"Very well." he nodded.

"Urghh I can't watch this." Katrina held the boy by her side, hugging him to her chest so he wouldn't look. He then fled away so he wouldn't even hear the blade swinging, or flesh being cut into.

"Brother, in case you can't resurrect me, there's something you need to know." Mimir spoked hushly. "The boy... The longer you wait to tell him his true nature, the more damage you do." Katrina was inclined to agree... But would never speak those words out loud. Kratos did not want to hear them. "He will resent you, and you may lose him forever." he warned vehemently. 

"There is much about me I would not have him know." the father grunted, looking away with shame and melancholy.

"Aye... So you value your privacy more than your son?" that was a painful question.

"I'm going to cut off your head now." was the Spartan's reply.

"Fair enough." Katrina sighed at the poor man's reply.

"May we speak again soon, brother."

"Thank you, sister."

With Mimir's head rolling onto the ground, Kratos roped it by the horns and attached it to his belt. They left the summit and used a rune to travel through the Dwarves' secret passageways; Here, Atreus spoke of the Aesir Gods, of Baldur, one of Odin's sons, Thor's brother - And Kratos bested him in battle... And he is also hunting them down with his nephews, Thor's own sons.

"What exactly makes one an 'Aesir' god?" the girls asked curiously.

"Well, uh... Mother said there are two families - The Aesir and the Vanir. The Aesir family has Odin, Thor, Heimdall, Baldur... And the Vanir have Freya and Freyr. I... Guess it's their bloodline? The Aesir live in Asgard and serve Odin, and the Vanir live in Vanaheim." Katrina hummed in understanding.

"I see." she whispered. "What a terrifying thought. We are up against powerful enemies."

"Yeah.... I wonder why is this happening. I don't understand..." Atreus agreed with her.

"If we can raise the head, he can tell us." the two nodded.

They reached right into Brok's forge - As vulgar and unamiable as always, he still upgraded the Axe before the party left towards the red forest of the Witch. Next to her turtle house we saw a runic rhyme - "Death to the Raven God / The Lord of the Hanged" . Katrina did not understand who the Raven God was, but she did not appreciate his cruelty.

"Who... Is the Raven God?" the lady asked her little companion.

"That would be Odin, the All-Father." she said nothing - She did not want to think of another All-Father tormenting them. Zeus was plenty trouble while alive, and still tormenting nightmares after his demise. Terrible father, truly. "Oh, finally, we've arrived! I hope that witch is at home." the boy ran enthusiastically inside the turtle-tree cabin - He saw the chestnut haired witch climbed up on a ladder inside her home, and expressed his joy. "It is SO good to see you again!" he said. "I knew you weren't dead!" it was clear he had so much hope and trust in the mother-like lady, who swiftly hopped off the ladder and knelt to embrace the young boy.

"Hello...!" she said with darling. 

"Oh!" Atreus let go of the hug. "Can you bring a head back to life?" at her flabbergast and confused expression, Katrina couldn't help but giggle - Truly an outrageous request they came with!

"I'm... Not sure I understand what... Wait... Where did you get those?" the witch immediately froze and went into a panic, slowly rising. "The arrows - Give them to me - NOW!" her sudden change in mood made the boy confused, and he looked at his father and Katrina - Did he do something wrong? They were given to him by Sindri - Surely, they were fine arrows - Right? 

"They were a gift..." the youngling tried to explain, but his father cut him off.

"Do as she says." he ordered, and the boy followed the instructions. 

"There arrows are dangerous... They are wicked!" she snatched them from Atreus's hand and threw them into the fire. "You find any more, you destroy them. Understand?" her voice was stern and dangerous, yet with a terrified waver lingering. "DO YOU UNDERSTAND?! SAY IT!!" she rose to her feet once again, raising her throne almost threateningly. Kratos immediately stepped protectively towards his child, though he knew the witch wouldn't hurt him.

"I understand! If I see them, I'll destroy them!" the boy repeated her words obediently.

Finally, she sighed in relief. "It's all I ask. Forgive me." her voice was back to being warm and homely. "Please - Take my arrows in their place. I have no need for them anymore." he did as instructed. "Now - What's this about a head?" instead of an answer, the witch was presented the dangling, rotting head of Mimir; Based on her reaction, she must have known the man whilst alive... And it wasn't a pleasant reunion by any means. "Do you have ANY idea who this is? Did you kill him?"

"At his request." Kratos answered, making the witch roll her eyes. "He claimed you could revive him."

"Me?! Are you sure you heard him right?" she truly seemed astounded that he, of all people, would place confidence in her magic skills of old. With a little 'please' from the young boy, the exhausted witch sighed and pointed towards her table, to place the head on. She spoke out a spell, then began her craft. "It's been a long time since I've practised the Old magic. Hold him there - Let's have a look." in the dim light, she could take one disgusted look at the corpse while stirring into a bowl. "Well, thankfully, his head hasn't decayed much and his brain is still intact. Nice, clean cut." what a compliment to give as she used the magic powder to clean and seal the chopped neck wound. "Cutting off his head, of all people... I sure hope you know what you're doing." she seemed mildly terrified of the consequences that were sure to follow. The Gods were never merciful. 

She ordered Kratos to keep Mimir's head succumbed into the bubbling cauldron water for a few seconds before he could take it out - And then, at her signal, once reaching the air outside, Mimir coughed all the maggots crawling inside his mouth. Disgusting. "It worked!" Atreus praised, shocked but very happy.

"Let me see him." the witch spoke. "Mimir? You there?" her face held a passive smile - Cold, venomous, vengeful. She hated the old head. 

"Yes..." he replied, slowly shifting towards the witch, to look at her.

"Good." she spit on his face. Yep. Katrina was proud with her evaluation of the witch and her feelings. 

"Oh." Mimir gasped out. "Hello, Freya. Been a long time!" he exclaimed serenely. "You look well!" yes, she does, Kat agreed in her head. 

"What I did, I did for them. As far as I'm concerned, death suits you better." she was quite mad.

"I'd bow if I could, you majesty. Forgive me - " Freya let out a groan, waved her hand dismissively and turned away. "Had I known the 'Witch in the woods' was Freya herself, I never would have suggested this." 

"Freya?! THE Goddess Freya?!" Atreus was having quite the joy moment, looking up at her with stars in his eyes. He truly admired the Gods, didn't he?

"You didn't know either?" Mimir was shocked also. "Sorry."

"When word gets out that Mimir is free, the wrath of Odin won't be far behind." what pleasant news.

"You're a God..." Kratos was not happy with the information he just found out.

"Leader of the Vanir once, yes... But no longer." ah, there it is again - Aesir and Vanir... So if she was a Vanir leader, is she in direct conflict with Odin? Are the Aesir and Vanir enemies? Truly, this frozen realm was a mystery.

"You did not think it important to tell me?" Kratos sneered at the Vanir.

"Are YOU really going to lecture me about that?" Freya stepped next to him, speaking in a hushed tone so the boy would not overhear his own father's secret.

Kratos turned around to leave with long, swift strides. "We are leaving, boy. Now." he ordered in a strict voice. The boy followed. On his way out, he shouldered the frame of the door in anger.

"In spite of this awkward turn of events - And especially with all the unpleasant events we have caused you - We dearly thank you for your aid, from the bottom of our heart. I hope our actions will be of no consequence to you, Lady Freya." Kat placed her hand over her heart, then towards Freya, as a gesture of genuine good will.

"You are pure - Unlike him. A Goddess." the witch stepped in front of the red haired lady. "A Goddess with a tender heart and a mellow touch. It is not often you find one such as yourself." she sighed, shaking her head. "Nevermind. You're welcome. Just stay safe, I suppose - And beware the Aesir - They are all evil and will not hesitate to kill you on the spot. ALL of them."

Katrina nodded her head, smiling in gratitude. "I shall take your advice to heart. Thank you dearly." with a cute curtesy, the Olympian turned around to leave. "I shall take my leave also. Fare thee well, Lady Freya. May we meet again soon - And under more pleasant circumstances." 

Even Freya had to admit, a gentle smile like that was not often seen, nor felt - Her pained heart felt just a little lighter with Katrina in her presence. What an odd little thing, she thought to herself. May she thaw out the frozen malice overgrown over the hearts of these lands.

Once outside into the tunnels, she caught up with the party; She didn't say anything, just smiled serenely. "I like Freya!" she said.

"Me too!" Atreus agreed, happy that, unlike his father, Katrina shared his sentiment.

"I do not." Kratos spat. "She is a God. She lied to us."

Katrina merely grinned wider at the man. "Is that so~?" what a tease.

"Quiet."

And now, they are headed towards Tyr's temple, to make their way into Jotunheim, the legendary Realm of the Giants. What an adventure! They were going to ask Jormungandr, the last living and most ancient Giant in the world - And he was going to tell them the way. Thankfully, Mimir enjoys conversing with that giant Giant serpent.

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[darkdevasofdestruction]

The Ballad of the Golden Knight and the Flower Nymph ~ Jaime Lannister x Tyrell Reader

Summary: Y/N has been Jaime and Cersei's best friend since before they were born, the fated trio of a bard's adventure story, however, not with a happy ending. When Jaime and Y/N fall in love, and Cersei becomes more and more bitter and jealous, revenge must be had. If Cersei does not know happiness - Then no one is allowed to.

> The story follows Y/N's relationship through the years with Jaime and Cersei, all the way until Daenerys' return to Westeros.

(( Jaime Lannister fanart by Michael Komarck ))

"There it goes! Quick, Jaime, before it gets away!" a lovely young lady was running around the flower garden trying to catch up with a cute orange cat they spotted while sparring in the training grounds. They had heard the knight training them to come back or they'll get scolded - But the warning fell on deaf ears. The same as the cat, who didn't want to cooperate, and escaped by climbing up a tree... And Jaime after her.

The poor boy was struggling to climb up the tree, but the cat was much faster and nimbler than him. "Shut up, Y/N, of course, you’re faster on the ground - But I can't climb up as fast as the cat! In fact, why don’t you climb up here and scare it down, so I can chase it around instead?"

Y/N wasted no time and climbing up by his side, grinning like a little imp. "I was enjoying my view." she teased the boy who blushed a little. "Besides - You were being graceful! I have to let you overcome this challenge, right? Knights are supposed to be strong and nimble, aren't they?"

"I’ll have you know, I’m as nimble as that cat!" he sounded mock-offended, pouting at her, only to hear the cat meowing defiantly from a higher branch, just out of reach. Both of the children started giggling.

"Oh yes, Ser Jaime the Cat Knight the Nimble, sworn to the chase. Shall I sing of your exploits?" the girl leaned forward, close to his face.

Jaime, however, hit his chest with pride. "You’ll be singing of my victory when I catch it! Just wait." he declared boldly as he lunged for the cat, darting further up the tree - Though he went to fast that he almost lost balance, making Y/N worry.

"Careful! If you fall, I’ll have to make you a crown of thorns instead of flowers! I want to sing of your success, not at your funeral!" the statement made the boy let out a confident laugh.

"I would wear it proudly either way, if it came from you, my sweet lady!" Y/N blushed a little at how charming Jaime could be - With them being spoken for, it was difficult not to imagine a loving and beautiful future together.

Eventually, however, they both gave up trying to catch the little devilish feline, retorting to laying on the ground by the flowers and looking up at the clouds lazily passing by - And then, they looked at each other, and laughed.

"Do you think it's laughing at us now? Two idiots, defeated by a scrappy little stray cat?" Y/N asked, turning to her side to look at her beautiful betrothed.

Jaime grinned, sitting up enthusiastically. "It is not over, Y/N! Next time, I will catch it for sure! And when I do, you will owe me a proper song about Ser Jaime the Cat Knight!"

Y/N smiled sweetly at him - He was so innocent, so untainted, so pure and genuine - A golden knight, a true sunshine, who deserved only the best in the world. He was beautiful, with golden hair messily emanating around him like a Godly aura, and those emerald eyes sparkling so precious with boyish enthusiasm and vitality. He was perfect. "Fine. But if you fall again, I will make the song about Ser Jaime the Tree Tumbler instead." they shared a laugh again, before Y/N had an idea, and fell back on her belly, quickly gathering some white, yellow and red flowers, quickly making a gorgeous flower crown. "For Ser Jaime of House Lannister - I have made you this crown, fit for a gallant knight, for when you prevail over that feline demon!"

Jaime's eyes went wide with surprise, and his cheeks were red. "A knight, you say? I’m hardly one yet... But I’ll gladly accept it from you, my lady."

"You look very regal. Like a lion of summer, crowned in blooms. It suits you, Jaime." her compliment made the boy smile even wider - One of his baby teeth had fallen, and he looked goofy and cute. Still, he laughed carefree.

"A lion of summer? How silly! What would Father say if he saw me now? 'A Lannister wears gold, not daisies,' he’d grumble. Ha!" Jaime imitated his father masterfully, making them both laugh even more.

"Oh, hush! It suits you. Besides, gold can be cold. This is warmer, don’t you think? Flowers are beautiful - And so are you." she spoke in such a sweet tone that it made Jaime's heart melt with warmth and darling.

"It is… warmer. Thank you." but much to his surprise, instead of a response from the girl, he received a sweet kiss on his cheek; Jaime's cheeks reddened more than the flowers he was wearing. "Wh-What was that for?"

"For being my knight in shining armor, of course! Every fair lady should reward her champion of light and justice, don’t you think?" she giggled cutely, making the boy stand up straight and tall, like a valiant knight should.

"Yes, that is right! And when I become knighted - Ser Jaime Lannister - I shall make for our wedding - What say you, the most beautiful Flower Lady?" he picked her hand gallantly, kissing it; He adored how lovely she looked, so demure and graceful, even when she wasn't trying, even when she was covered in dirt and wearing breeches. She was so soft and sweet, like no other. Everything she did made him so deeply in love with her.

"Ser Jaime Lannister the Golden Knight, and Lady Y/N Tyrell, the Rose of the Realm."

But it was always "The Knight and the Rose", not "The Knight, the Queen and the Rose", Cersei bitterly remarked, as once again, she was being left out from the activities her own twin brother and best friend were so joyfully doing. She wasn't allowed to horse-ride, wasn't allowed to spar, to do archery, to wear breeches and tumble around the mud like a pig, or chase after cats and dogs like a simple fool.

She was simmering internally with anger, and her face was twisted in envy, watching those two being all lovey-dovey. After their mother caught them in bed together, she separated them to sleep in different wings of the castle; She was forced to share a bed with all those headless chicken who try to befriend her, while Jaime enjoys the glee of having his bedchamber just across Y/N's own room. Why does their mother not make a fuss about those two sneaking into each other's room? Of course, Cersei snitched on them, but it wasn't a problem, because they were betrothed, she said. They need to get to know each other, she said. Horse shite, Cersei said, before having her mouth slapped.

Angry hot tears stung at her eyes that night, punching the pillow and kicking her bed maid off the bed. If the person by her side wasn't Jaime or Y/N, then they didn't deserve to share the comfort of her bed. It was hers, not theirs.

As dark thoughts kept tainting her heart, she didn't realise how she butchered her embroidery, and even stabbed her own finger with the needle - Nor that her father stepped behind her.

"You might be proficient with the wrong kind of needle." her whole body shivered in shock as she heard her father's grave voice. "You are supposed to bleed the enemy to death, not your own self."

"Father..." she grumbled under her breath, looking at Y/N and Jaime going back to sparring. "Look at them. Rolling in the dirt like common stable boys. It is unbecoming of a lady, don’t you think, Father? She is unworthy of becoming Jaime's wife - The future Lady Lannister, the wife of the heir of Casterly Rock."

"She’s indulging Jaime. That is not unbecoming; it is strategic." he spoke calmly. "Do not think I have any love for her family - In spite of that, however, politically speaking, this alliance is as powerful as it can get. Save for the Crown, there is no stronger family worthy of our lineage."

But Cersei was hearing none of it. She was bristling with rage and deaf to the political truth of the matter. "Strategic? She’s filthy! If that were me, you would drag me by the ear and lock me in my chambers for a week!" she exclaimed like a brat. "Her whole family is uncouth filth - She said she was riding horses since she was old enough to walk, and has been training in falconry with her brother all the same! How is that worthy of our noble family?!"

Tywin took a sharp inhale, making his daughter's blood freeze in her veins; It was clear he was getting fed up with her complaining."If that were you, Cersei, you’d be shouting at your brother, demanding the sword instead of proving you can wield it better. Or sulking when it wasn’t handed to you." she tried to complain, indignant at the accusations, but her father cut her off immediately.

The Lannister Lord looked at the yard, his piercing green eyes staring at Lady Y/N ducking with great agility under Jaime's swing and lightly tapping his side with her sword - His son laughed, declaring her the victor. Unlike his twin, Jaime was not a sore loser; He worked hard to overcome his weaknesses, to become a better version of himself. He was not the smartest, academically speaking, and he was having great problems even reading - But at least, when it came to wielding a sword, he was a prodigy. Tywin knew better than anyone that he needed a shrewd and intelligent wife to help him govern Casterly Rock after he was no more.

"She knows how to play her role in this mummer's show. A lady when it matters, and clever enough to win favor when it doesn’t. That is why she is worth my time, Cersei." the Lord told his daughter.

Cersei hissed at her father angrily. "So I’m not worth your time because I don’t prance around with flowers and simper like a fool?"

"No, you are not worth my time because you waste it. You’re too busy complaining about what you’re not allowed to do instead of mastering what you are. She can stitch a tapestry as finely as she can outwit Jaime with a wooden sword. Can you say the same?" Cersei's fists clenched with simmering rage, her nails biting into her palms painfully. Her voice got lower, venomous.

"She isn’t perfect. You only favor her because she’s a Tyrell. She brings wealth and alliances. If she were not, you would scold her just like me." she declared boldly. "Besides - Mother didn't have to behave like a fool to charm you. She was just pretty... And a maiden. Just like me.

"Do not mistake my favoritism for weakness. If she falters, I shall correct her. But unlike you, she doesn’t test my patience every time she opens her mouth." Tywin scolded his daughter coldly, watching as she flinched at the harshness of his words, though characteristically of her ego, she refused to back down. Her gaze shifted back to the two playing fools, watching as Jaime helped Y/N get up from the ground, though he still looked bright and full of admiration at the Tyrell girl, despite her being filthy from head to toe, just like him.

"It's not fair... She’s bewitched him. Jaime looks at her like she hung the moon. That’s why you’re so indulgent. Because she’s wrapped him around her little finger, and you think she’ll keep him loyal to you." she huffed, her eyes narrow and filled with murder. "Jaime is mine, not hers. He is my twin brother. He should spend time with me, not her - She is just a stranger. She can't steal everything from me, in my own home!"

"Cersei - Open your ears and listen clearly to me." her body froze in place with unexpected fear. "We all must play a role in this life, based on what dice we roll." he spoke solemnly. "The circumstances of your mother and I were far different than those of Y/N and Jaime - Though do not think, even for one second, to downplay your mother's worth to only her beauty and maidenhead." she never heard her father speak that way - He wasn't a man of compliments or sweet words, yet in his own way, he was scolding her for reducing his wife to being just another woman. "Y/N is here to make Jaime fall in love with her, marry, make children, and inherit Casterly Rock. The strongest two houses in Westeros are bound to thrive for generations on end." he continued his speech. "Likewise, she is here to teach you how to behave in the same way - How else are you supposed to learn how to shake down that nasty attitude of yours and become a woman worthy of charming Rhaegar Targaryen?"

Cersei jumped in her seat, her attention shifted completely on her father. "Rhaegar... Targaryen...? Th-The Prince, you mean? The Heir to the Iron Throne?"

"I will not have mine own daughter marry any less than the best there is in this realm." he declared coldly, looking into the horizon with cold spite - Cersei knew there was some bad blood between her father and King Aerys, but she wasn't aware of the details. "I will make you the Queen of the Realm, even if kills me - So instead of sulking and spitting venom like a viper, how about you use even half of that effort into honing those skills you take such pride on - Bitterness will get you nowhere. Listen to her. Learn from her. Never falter - And then, you shall become Queen."

For once, Cersei didn't protest - She hadn't met the Crown Prince yet, but she heard tales of how gallant and handsome he was, just like in those romantic tales she heard - For once, Cersei imagined herself Jonquil, in the arms of her beloved Florian - What a foolish tale - She was foolish indeed, to be dreaming of such childish things - She wasn't just a girl, she was the daughter of Tywin Lannister; She wasn't supposed to fall in love to the idea of a beautiful and valiant Prince who would treat her right... But she was get enamoured, dreaming of a man she had never met.

For once, Cersei didn't dream of sharing a bed with either Jaime or Y/N, but with a silver-haired boy with purple eyes like amethyst, and with the heart of a dragon. Y/N and Jaime can have each other, for all she cares; A dumb lion and a cunning rose. They can do whatever, as long as she marries Rhaegar Targaryen and becomes the Queen of the Realm.

"Jaime! Jaime! Look!" a young girl chirped enthusiastically, holding her skirts up in her arms, as if she was holding something. "Look what I found!"

Jaime looked at the pretty little lady with utmost interest and curiosity, drawing closer to her - To his surprise, he saw four baby bunnies nestled together. "Rabbits? Where did you find these?"

"I was in the flower garden nearby, looking for pretty red flowers to make crowns for you and Cersei - I found the mangled bunny mommy under a tree, and a few babies next to her. These three were the only surviving ones." the golden haired lioness also approached the two, looking at the little fluffs with a frown and slight disgust.

"They look... Weird." she muttered under her breath. "They're too small. We can't eat them, nor make pelts out of them. You should have left them to die as a family. They're too small to know they are suffering, regardless - Father says it's a mercy."

"I..." little lady Tyrell's smile fell, and she looked down at the terrified bunnies. "I... Hoped we could take care of them. Maybe Lord Tywin will see this as an early way of taking responsibility - Learning how to take care of a frail and vulnerable creature, so we get used to taking care of our babes when we grow older?" she tried to reason, but Cersei only scoffed, looking away.

"As if my Lord Father would ever agree to such a folly..." without much grace, she pinched her fingers around the scruff of a brown bunny, lifting it up - As soon as she got it to eye-level, the little critter squeaked loudly, making the lioness let go of it to fall back on the skirts of the Tyrell girl. "What an awfully loud and uncouth creature."

"You were much like it when you were born, daughter." the three children all jumped in shock as they heard the Lord Lannister's stern voice; Thankfully, he was followed by his Lady Wife, who was smiling warmly at them. They remained mute as the father raised another of the rabbits and inspected it.

"This one looks old enough to live without its mother. The eyes are open, the teeth are strong, and its limbs are nimble." he put it into his wife's delicate hands.

"And almost as darling as a baby." Lady Joanna added with a motherly hum. "I think Lady Y/N's idea is a most brilliant one - I would say they are old enough to learn the way of the household, would you not agree, my darling?"

"For Cersei and Y/N yes, I would say so, but what about Jaime? He has no time to fool around, he is to become a knight, not a kennel master for rabbits." Lady Joanna placed her hand delicately over her mouth, stifling a sweet giggle as she placed the bunny in Jaime's hands.

"You are most correct, my darling - However, would you not agree that it would bring Jaime and Y/N closer, taking care of babies together, the same they shall do in the future, when they marry and create a family of their own? Mayhaps this little exercise of responsibility will foreshadow their future happy life together." as always, Tywin couldn't argue with his dear wife's reasoning - He could almost never refuse her. In fact, the man held a half-smile and offered a curt nod to the children before leaving them to their plays.

"And there even is a fourth little bunny, for Cersei's and Jaime's little brother!" Y/N exclaimed, making Lady Joanna smile kindly, placing her hand over her slightly swollen belly.

"Don't come crying to me when they die." was his last response before he entered the castle to return to his duties, followed by his wife.

Although Cersei didn't want to admit, she was quite happy her father agreed to allowing them to keep the rabbits - In spite of it not being thanks to her own persuasion, but her friend. Truly, it was fine, she tried to lie to herself - Though whenever she looked at Y/N as saw that radiant smile... Or, rather, whenever she saw how happy Jaime was, staying around Y/N like a moth to the flame... A piece of her was breaking. Jaime was HER twin, they shared the same womb, he came into this world holding her foot - Jaime should love HER the most, not Y/N!

But Cersei couldn't be angry at Y/N - Not when Y/N was the only person who understood her. Not when Cersei could talk to her about falconry and horse-riding, about archery and swordsmanship. Y/N wasn't like all those stupid bedmaids who know only to gossip and seam dresses. Not when Y/N was supposed to marry Jaime, not Rhaegar Targaryen.

No, Y/N was different, she was raised different. She had loving parents and loving siblings who adored her; The people of Highgarden weren't looking down on her for wearing breeches and playing in the mud with her brothers or learning how to ride with them - In fact, they praised her for being proactive and wishing to learn as many arts as humanly possible. She was always praised for every little thing she did - Something that Cersei had never heard of, especially from her father. The only comfort Cersei ever had was the loving embrace of her mother, and the company of Jaime and Y/N...

However, she was jealous on both of them, to such a burning degree, that oft times, she couldn't hold back a sneer or a snarky comment that would hurt them.

She wanted to be a nice person, truly, she did - But why was Jaime treated differently, just because he was a body? Why was he allowed to play around and get dirty, to practice swordsmanship, archery, horse-riding... While she was stuck learning the history of dead men, and sewing some ugly flowers of a dress. She loved Jaime - She wanted to be Jaime - When they changed clothes, they were one and the same, not even Tywin Lannister could differentiate between them two. She loved Jaime - But she also hated Jaime.

The same way she loved Y/N, but also, hated Y/N. Y/N could embroider the most beautiful patterns, she could paint the most picturesque landscapes, make the prettiest flower crowns and bouquets, master all the arts taught by the Maester... As well as roll around in the mud like a pig with her brother... Or help with spar... Or indulge in archery competitions... Or ride small horses... Or chase cats through the garden... Or even indulge in falconry...

She hated how she felt so bitterly about everyone around her - She wasn't like this, she didn't want to feel like this. She wanted to be beautiful, graceful, kind - She wanted to be a woman worthy of being called 'The Queen of Westeros' ; and yet... She was well aware, these dark, tainting feelings were eroding her from the inside, and only her mother could help her diminish those awful thoughts and feelings plaguing her soul. It was times like those that not even the thought of marrying the silver haired beauty wasn't capable of consoling her.

"Well then!" Jaime was the first to chirp up, digging his hands into Y/N's skirts and retrieving the most energetic and robust bunny; That one was a gorgeous shade of blue-grey and velvety soft, with light coloured eyes. "You shall be mine companion!"

"He is definitely a fighter, just like you, Jaime!" Y/N giggled cutely, watching her beloved hold the bunny up so awkwardly, yet with a sunny grin on his face.

"And just as much of a fool - Look at it, wiggling in your grip, as if it wouldn't shatter his bones if he fell to the ground from that height. Fragile little fool." Cersei crossed her arms, spitting at the two, though not even she could deny how cute those little critters were.

Jaime, however, ignored her comment, and only let out a boyish snigger. "You shall be the greatest knight to ever be! Just like The Sword of the Morning, Ser Arthur Dayne!" he claimed boldly. "So young, yet already so legendary - Ser Bunny Dayne!" he said in a loud, confident roar.

"What. An. Idiot." Cersei let out a loud groan, before picking her own bunny; It was a golden girl with light coloured eyes. It could, in no way, match her beauty - But it was, by far, the prettiest of the three, and the most refined-looking. "Mine shall be called Queen. I will have the blacksmith forge a crown for her, and you and your plebeian rabbits shall bow down and kneel in front of us." she smirked at the other two, who smiled sweetly at her, doing a joint reverie curtesy.

"My Queen!" they giggled in unison, as Cersei finally seemed satisfied with the outcome.

The runt of the litter was a white rabbit with black eyes, small and scrawny. "My little darling shall be named Rose." Y/N cuddled the little petal-sized bunny into her neck, watching as Jaime cooed at how cute they were, with the rabbit nuzzling into her cheek as if seeking protection and warmth.

"It's settled! We now have three companions worthy of a ballad to be sung by the bards across generations! The Knight, The Queen and The Rose!" declared the boy boldly.

"Sounds like a wonderful tale to be sung for tourneys and events of all kinds!" Y/N clapped cheerfully.

"Yes, yes, magnificent, I agree." Cersei looked at the two bright idiots with disdain. "But has either of you any idea whatsoever on how to take care of a bunch of rabbits?" they remained mute and unmoved. "Thought so. You two are idiots, that's what you are." she scoffed once again. "There are midwives and nurse-maids who take care of infants - But who in their right minds would know how to take care of infant rabbits?" she scolded the two. "No matter. Let us see if the maesters can help us - Or perhaps the horse or kennel masters. They are all animals, cannot be that different, can it?"

"Cheers to Queen Cersei for being the brightest of us!" Y/N clapped at her for her bright idea - It wasn't that she didn't think of it, but Cersei had been so upset lately, that she needed to find some way of gratification - Of validation - And since her own father was never going to give it to her, and the words of her mother were already beginning to dwindle on her, the last thing she held was some authority grip on her little group of friends.

But that wasn't long to last, as no matter how hard she tried, Cersei could never receive the praise she so dearly craved for. No matter how pretty her writing was, Y/N's calligraphy was always better, more gracious, more feminine and elegant. No matter how good her seaming and embroidery was, Y/N's was always more refined and intricate. No matter how well she did in politics and history lessons, there was always some little tid-bit useless trivia that Y/N came up with to impress the Maesters and Septas.

Not fair! It was not fair!

She was still young, she had time to learn, of course! She was still young, and so was Jaime - They still could switch places and pretend to be the other twin, and Y/N never snitched on her... But that was worse, because her father allowed Y/N to train and play around with Jaime, and it was so much fun!

She loved to swing a sword around, to get dirty and wear breeches, to do calculus and think up war strategies, to pull back the string of the bow and shoot arrows -- Sure, she wasn't very good at it, but how could she be, if she wasn't allowed to train herself, like Y/N did? Oh, she was so very jealous, watching Y/N ride on a beautiful mare, by Jaime's and Tywin's side, and on her gloved hand, a most beautiful falcon nuzzling its beak into her cheek as she fed it some meat.

She wanted to be the one on that horse. She wanted to be loved by the falcon. She wanted to have her hair breezed by the wind as she rides into adventures. She wanted her heart to race with adrenaline and excitement. She wanted to spill blood and gore.

Instead, she was doomed to be mounting a throne, to be loved by a disgusting old man probably, to have her hair breezed by the air on her balcony, to have her heart race with annoyance as he climbs into her bed, and spill the blood of her maidenhood and the gore of her births.

It wasn't fair! It wasn't fair! Just because she didn't have a cock between her legs didn't make her any less worthy and capable!

She looked at Jaime with disdain and envy, stabbing her embroidery and biting her lip until blood trickled down her chin - He couldn't even read properly, but he was allowed to train to become a knight? All of father's good traits came to her, but she just had to be a woman like her mother - Yes, she was beautiful, but at what cost? It was a curse to be a woman.

But how can she excel, when her bitterness and jealousy overwhelm her very senses? When her pride and greed for validation are stronger than her will of remaining a passive little doll to be manipulated by others. She is a lioness, she is strong, noble, prideful, arrogant and confident - How can she allow herself to sit back and just embroider and smile and... Nothing else.

These gnawing worries and emotions kept plaguing her to the point that she hadn't realised how she was falling behind in her studies, until her father went to check on their maesters and septas to see how they were doing - And it was not a pretty sight.

The Lannister Lord looked at Jaime's work with a rare nod of approval - Though slower than average, his son was capable of clearly reading out loud the words written on the books he was supposed to study; Tywin had tried time and time again to make sense of the letters jumbled inside his own son's head, and was never able to sort it out. "The Maester tells me you’ve been making progress with your reading, Jaime. I was beginning to think it was beyond you."

Jaime, not having expected a compliment from the cold man he calls father, blushed faintly, looking down with a boyish smile, before gazing at Y/N. "It wasn’t easy. But I had help." likewise, the girl smiled sweetly at him. Of course it was the Tyrell girl who got Jaime to learn how to read properly, he needn't be surprised anymore.

"Y/N has been incredibly patient with me... More patient than I deserve, if I am being honest. She found ways to make it easier for me to piece words together, despite the letters not making sense to me and looking chaotic in my head." Cersei wanted to vomit at how annoyingly cutesy those two idiots were being with each other. They didn't have to flaunt how very happily in love they were with each other, and all that nonsense they were shamelessly displaying in front of everyone.

"I do not deserve all the praise, My Lord, I truly have not done much; Jaime did all the hard work himself - He is very diligent when he sets his mind to do something. He just needed a push in the right direction, and he flew on his own from there." oh, what an annoyingly humble and selfless response - Cersei hated that. If she achieved something, she wanted to be praised for it, not to pretend to be holier than thou. "Diligent or not, you did well, Lady Tyrell. Jaime is lucky to have a devoted and patient wife such as yourself." Tywin felt like his body was being burnt and prickled with thorns, spewing such compliments, but if it meant achieving what he set as his goals, it mattered little. Cersei needed to learn from Y/N, and Jaime had to marry Y/N. The Highgarden resources were highly valuable, and so was the Crown power.

Alas, his plans were only going half his way, as his daughter, with the ever spiteful venomous tongue, cut in to protest. If only she would learn to shut up, she would be seen as wiser. "I tried to help him too, Father. But it’s impossible to teach someone who doesn’t even try to learn."

"That’s not fair, Cersei! It's not my fault I see the letters flying and constantly changing places!" Jaime protested immediately, not appreciating the way his sister was blaming him like that.

Cersei slapped her hands on the table, raising up and hissing at her stupid younger brother. It was times like these, when he was agreeing with her, that she felt completely alienated in her own home, by her own family - She was truly alone. "Oh, it is not? Did you try this hard when I sat with you for hours, sounding out every word? No! You just stared at the page like a dullard, and when I corrected you, you sulked like a child!" she crossed her arms, huffing in anger. "I was right to stop wasting my time. You’re hopeless, Jaime. More suited to swinging swords like a lowborn than inheriting Casterly Rock. You never had a problem reading - You just wanted Y/N's attention so you can impress her."

The room falls silent, echoing with the sound of a slap, as Cersei's face gets struck, and she falls to the ground. Jaime stiffens, remaining silent, while Y/N instinctively bites her lip and holds his hand for comfort. She was always somewhat afraid of men who acted violent, though she couldn't fault Tywin for disciplining his misbehaving daughter - Y/N herself wanted to strike Cersei for speaking so ill of her beloved Jaime.

"I, myself, tried teaching Jaime how to read - Are you saying I would not know if my own son had a problem with his studies? Or do you assume that, when he says the letters are jumbled in his head, he is lying to get out of studying?" the Lord's voice was harsh and grave.

"Exactly so!" Jaime sighed, squeezing Y/N's hand. "Y/N helped me read intuitively... I read the shape of the letters, of the words, so I try to read the first and last letters and guess the words. I read fast this way, yes, but I do not always read correctly - So I have to go back to reading the same word again, and figure out where I was wrong..." he tried to explain, though his own ailment was difficult to understand even for himself, let alone to put it into words. "I... I am sorry I am so difficult to deal with... I promise I really tried my hardest to get better... And I still am... But it does not always work as I wish it to. It takes patience... And I am very grateful for every bit of it."

"Jaime has worked so, so hard, and he has improved so much. When we study together, he focuses with such determination... He stays up every night to practice reading, even though he wakes up tired in the morning." Y/N cleared her throat. "He wanted to make Lord Tywin and Lady Joanna proud by reading a poem for them, on the anniversary of their wedding."

Jaime’s tension eases slightly, and he gives the Y/N a bashful, grateful smile. Tywin, in turn, looked sharply at Cersei - How was she going to make Rhaegar Targaryen want to wed her, when she has such a disgusting attitude? No man would ever want a spiteful and opinionated wife like her. "Do you hear that? Patience. Encouragement. Qualities you sorely lack, Cersei. Instead of supporting your brother, you insult and belittle him. And you wonder why you fail where others succeed?"

Cersei's voice rose up, in spite of her knowing she will get awfully punished - Her red cheek was stinging, and tears streamed down her face, but it was in vain - Whenever her pride took over, her mind took a backseat and she forgot herself. "Why do you always take her side? She’s not even your daughter! In fact - You treat her more like a daughter than you treat me!"

Tywin rose a quizzical eyebrow, though remained unshaken. "Is that so?" he spoke in such a low, cold tone, that it made all three children shiver with a terrified chill. "Then tell me, Cersei. Why is it that every report I receive from your Septas and the Maester mentions your negligence? Your embroidery is sloppy, your history lessons are incomplete, and your arithmetic is abysmal."

Cersei, however, remained on the defensive. "They exaggerate! I’ve been studying, obviously, but how can I focus when she—" she gestured her hand towards Y/N. "When she keeps giggling with Jaime and skipping classes and distracts me all the time?"

Her father cut her off with a tone as sharp as valyrian steel. "Enough." Cersei froze on the spot as her father stepped in front of her, looking down at her with such disappointment that it physically hurt more than the slap itself. "Making excuses for your failures by dragging others into it is unbecoming of a Lannister. You think you can mask your laziness with lies? To humiliate the noble House of Lannister?" he called for one of the Septas to come in - She nervously did a curtsy, unable to look up at him. "Show me her embroidery - And than Lady Tyrell's."

The other Septas waiting outside hurried to retrieve the most recent pieces hastily - He was not proficient in embroidery, but one needn't be, when comparing Cersei's uneven stitches, and the little prickles of blood stained on the sides, to Y/N's delicate and intricate romantic pattern of a golden lion surrounded by blooming roses. What a disappointment. Surely his own children should have inherited some of his talent and wit... Hopefully, the third would be better. "Discipline, diligence and pride - As opposed to lack of interest, haste and boredom."

Seeing her own embroidery next to Y/N's made Cersei feel positively humiliated - She hadn't realised until then how far apart they were. "You take pride only in being a Lannister with wealth and power - Though you do not possess the skills, nor the will for it. Perhaps if you studied as much as you complained, you would reach at least a quarter of Lady Tyrell's level."" her face was burning with shame, as her father asked the Maester to bring about their academic progress records.

"Lady Tyrell has consistently excelled in her studies, my lord. Her arithmetic is precise, her history essays insightful, and her understanding of High Valyrian is remarkable." the old man cleared his throat awkwardly. "As for Lady Cersei…" he hesitated, gulping down as he glanced nervously at the Lannister Lord. "… has struggled to meet even the minimum expectations."

No one spoke another word; The maesters and septas all left the chamber, leaving Lord Tywin alone with the three children. With a nod of his head, Jaime took Y/N's hand and they, too, bolted out of there, not wanting to be subjected to his wrath.

"What do you have to say in your defense, daughter?" one last chance he offered her, before a tidal wave of critique shall follow.

"What would you have me do, Father? I see Y/N for who she is - She is not nearly as much of a fairy as everyone thinks she is! She is pretending - She seduced Jaime and everyone around her - She is trying to steal everything from me!" and Tywin expected nothing more from his brat of a daughter. Why could she not be as well behaved as her own mother? He swears Jaime is more like Joanna - How could Cersei inherit nothing from her own mother?

"For her to 'steal' things from you, as you say, you must first 'own' things - Which, mind you, you do not own anything. Everything you have is thanks to me and mine own efforts, not by any means anything that you have done thus far." Cersei’s hands tremble with rage, but she says nothing. "Why must you squander every opportunity to prove yourself? Can you not see you are not nearly as smart as you think you are?" he continued with his disappointment. "You are angry for being a pawn used for political alliances, yet you do nothing to prove your worth above marriage - Yet how much use can you be of me, when you behave like a spoiled child, and you would repel the Crown Prince at first sight with your unruliness?" the idea of Rhaegar looking at her and running away from her broke her heart in pieces.

"What would you have me do? Sit and smile like her? Pretend to care about embroidery and make up while Jaime is allowed to chase glory?" Cersei’s eyes burn with tears, but Tywin pays her no mind, as usual.

"I would have you master the tools at your disposal. You are a woman of House Lannister. You wield power not with swords, but with intellect, charm, and influence, yet you refuse to cultivate any of these because you cannot see beyond your own bitterness. That is why you fail. Instead of using your advantages to secure a future worthy of our name, you squander them with petty jealousy and spite." he then continued in a softer, yet no les chilling tone. "You embarrass me, Cersei. If you drive away the Crown Prince with your disgusting arrogance and spite, then you are of no use to me."

Cersei storms out, her anger boiling over into hot tears as she vows silently that one day, she’ll show them all. She’ll show him. She’ll prove she’s more than they think — At any cost.

She sought out the only person of comfort to her, and fell to her knees before her mother, dramatically hugging her legs and sobbing loudly into her lap, as Joanna could only pat her golden locks to appease her. "Not fair! Mother, it is not fair! Why does father always scold me, but never Y/N? Why does Jaime like Y/N more than me? Why can Y/N do the same things Jaime can, but I cannot?!" she cried like the little five year old child that she was, noticing the blinding differences between them. "Am I not good enough for father? Am I not a worthy daughter? Am I meant only to breed like a cattle cow, and bring babes into this world, while Y/N and Jaime have fun together, going on adventures and living a happy and fulfilling life?!"

"Oh, my sweet child, that is not true." Joanna kissed the golden crown of her head. "Your father cannot scold Y/N because she is not of our own family, but a Tyrell - She is an important member to alliance with, for political purposes - The fact that Y/N and Jaime get along so well is just a pure coincidence."

Joanna smoothed a hand over her daughter's golden curls, her touch gentle as always. "You are your father's only daughter, Cersei. He holds you to the highest of standards because he expects great things from you."

Cersei sniffled, pulling away just enough to glare up at her mother. "He expects me to sit still and be quiet! He expects me to smile and curtsey and act as if I am no more than a broodmare to be bartered away!" her little fists clenched at the fabric of Joanna’s gown. "Why doesn’t he expect that of Jaime? Why can Jaime do as he pleases while I—" she hiccuped, her voice breaking "... while I am scolded like a child for simply wanting the same?"

Joanna sighed softly, brushing a tear from Cersei’s flushed cheek. "Because Jaime is a boy, my love. And you…" she hesitated, then cupped her daughter’s face in both hands, forcing Cersei to meet her eyes. "You were born to be something else entirely. Something greater."

Cersei blinked, her breath hitching. "Greater?"

"Yes." Joanna nodded, her voice soothing, but there was an undeniable weight to it. "Jaime will grow into a knight, yes, but you, my sweet girl — You will be the Queen."

For the first time since she had fled to her mother’s chambers, Cersei’s breath steadied. The Queen. That meant being the wife of Rhaegar Targaryen, the mysterious and gallant prince of her dreams, the man she had never met before, but often fantasised over. The thought sent a strange thrill through her veins, stronger than any promise of adventure, stronger even than her desire to best Y/N. The realisation that, being the Queen of Westeros, gave her the power to rule - And she always loved having authority and power over people.

"The Queen..." she repeated, as if tasting the words for the first time.

"Queen Cersei." Joanna smiled, though it did not quite reach her eyes. "But a Queen must have patience, my love. She must be clever, and careful. She cannot lash out like a little girl throwing tantrums."

Cersei frowned. "But Y/N—"

"Y/N is not you." Joanna interrupted gently. "She will marry Jaime one day, yes, but that is her role. Yours is far grander. Yours is to rule. When you father and I are no more, and Y/N and Jaime marry, Y/N will rule over the Westerlands and most - But you? You will be the sole power over the whole Seven Kingdoms."

Cersei swallowed, her mind racing. To rule. The words filled her head, drowning out the ache in her chest. Perhaps she had been foolish to cry over Jaime’s affections and attention. Perhaps she had been wasting her energy on a war that was already lost. Let Jaime and Y/N have their foolish happiness.

She would have a crown.

She straightened, brushing the last of her tears away. Joanna, ever perceptive, smiled faintly as she watched the shift in her daughter’s expression.

"I understand now, Mother." Cersei said, lifting her chin. "You are right - I am a big girl now - And big girls don't cry. Rhaegar would never like me if I was snotty and bratty, after all."

Joanna pressed a final kiss to her brow. "Good girl."

And in that moment, Cersei decided—if she could not have Jaime’s freedom and Y/N's favoritism, she would have the world's respect.

At any cost.

The four little rabbits had become the heart of their small world - And the fourth one was always laying on Lady Joanna's swollen belly, as if to protect her baby and become a symbol of safe birth.

Jaime had taken it upon himself to bring her fresh greens from the kitchens, and even Cersei — Who had been reluctant at first — Would sit beside her mother, gently stroking the little white rabbit’s fur as they talked about the future. It was true, she was jealous thinking there would be another Lannister to be the competitor for her mother's love - But she would teach her sibling some discipline.

And then, the day of the birth came.

Joanna’s cries had echoed through the halls, sending a cold shiver through the children as they waited just beyond the chamber doors, into the garden outside.

Jaime paced restlessly, his hands clenched into fists. He looked at Y/N, who was trembling, mortified - If they marry, he would have to put Y/N through this horror? Was that what being a woman was? Was that how their mother shrieked delivering them also? It was cruel and unfair - He didn't want his mother to go through this - And he didn't want Cersei and Y/N to go through this either.

Cersei sat rigidly on the bench, arms crossed tightly over her chest, her foot tapping anxiously against the floor as she manically petted her rabbit. Y/N, though her hands trembled, kept her voice gentle as she spoke to them - Yet it was wavering and weak. It was the first time the twins saw the perfect rose being shaken and afraid.

"Your mother is strong. She’ll be fine."

Cersei shot her a sharp glare but said nothing. As much as she wanted to snap at her, she didn't have the power to.

Then, at long last, the screaming stopped. Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating. Jaime reached for Cersei’s hand, squeezing it tight. Y/N bit her lip.

And then— Finally— The door opened.

But it was not Lord Tywin who emerged. It was a Maester.

Jaime and Cersei leapt to their feet at once, searching his face for any sign of relief. Y/N felt her stomach twist as the old man hesitated, adjusting his chain as if weighing his words carefully.

"The child is a boy..." the Maester said at last, subtle tears pooling in his eyes.

Jaime let out a breath. A boy. A little brother. He always wanted a little brother to play with, to protect, to teach. Cersei, however, could care less, and Y/N was deaf to those news. She knew, based on the man's face, something awful happened.

"Lady Joanna, however ... Did not survive the birth."

Silence.

Jaime went pale.

Cersei froze.

Y/N’s heart stopped.

"No." Cersei’s voice was barely a whisper at first, then it grew. "No. No, she—she wouldn’t—"

But the Maester only bowed his head. "Lord Tywin has asked for no disturbances. He is mourning in solitude."

Jaime’s breath hitched, and then he broke in fits of loud sobs; He stumbled back against the wall, his hands covering his face as the first sob tore from his throat.

Cersei stood shaking, her fists trembling at her sides, and then she screamed, and shrieked her lungs out - A raw, ugly sound, filled with fury and heartbreak. She threw herself against the Maester, shoving him back with all the strength her little body could muster.

"You’re lying! She’s not dead! She can’t be—SHE CAN’T BE DEAD!" the old Maester staggered but did not retaliate. Grief destroys people, he knew it all to well, and at such a frail age, no les... ; Cersei spun toward Y/N, eyes burning with tears and rage. "You said she would be fine! YOU LIED TO ME!" Y/N flinched, but before she could say a word, Cersei lunged to attack Y/N, to shake her, to yell in her face, to blame her; Jaime barely had the strength to stop her. He caught her wrists as she swung at Y/N, his sobs breaking between his desperate pleas.

"Cersei, stop... Please..."

But she was too lost in her grief. "I hate you!" she screamed at Y/N, her face contorted in anguish. "I hate all of you! I hate him! That little monster! He killed her! He killed her!"

The little brown rabbit — Joanna’s rabbit — Had been placed in the crib with the newborn, its soft fur brushing against the infant’s tiny hands. Cersei saw it, and something inside her snapped. With a choked cry, she tore away from Jaime’s grasp and ran.

Jaime collapsed to his knees, his face buried in his hands.

And Y/N, stunned, heartbroken, knelt beside him, wrapping her arms around his shaking shoulders. She wanted to tell him everything would be alright, but she could not bring herself to lie - Not when she was so deathly afraid of her own fate.

Time, however, waits for no one, they say, and Lady Joanna Lannister's body was burnt, while everyone else had to move on with their lives, just as before.

Casterly Rock’s grand halls felt suffocating under the weight of grief, though its lords and ladies carried on as if nothing had changed. But something had changed — Everything had changed. Lady Joanna Lannister was dead, and in her place was a wailing, red-faced babe who had done nothing to earn his family’s love. Lady Joanna Lannister was dead, and with her, so was the last bit of humanity in Lord Tywin Lannister's heart.

Still, just as previously planned, Princess Martell of Dorne, along with her son and daughter, had arrived not long ago, and their presence brought an unusual warmth to the keep. Oberyn and Elia — young, lively, and utterly unafraid, had made their way through the lion’s den with confidence, their sand-kissed skin and bright Dornish silks standing in stark contrast to the heavy crimson and gold surrounding them.

Cersei had taken it upon herself to guide them through the Rock, though Y/N and Jaime were never far behind, trailing lost lost puppies trying to catch up to her - Or stop her from bringing them to the Lions' cages.

"You must see the monster." Cersei had said, leading them toward the nursery with a cruel glint in her eye. "The beast that took my mother’s life."

Elia hesitated, casting a wary glance at her brother, but Oberyn, always the curious mischief, followed with amusement. It was even better seeing the worried and apprehensive look on Y/N and Jaime, as they looked at each other, though had no clue how to stop the imminent problem that Cersei Lannister was. As beautiful as she was, she was perfectly ruthless.

The nursery was quiet, save for the soft cooing of a wet nurse tending to the infant Tyrion who layed nestled in his crib, with the tiny brown rabbit still curled beside him, twitching its pink nose in sleep.

Cersei wasted no time in dismissing the wet nurse, and showing off her cruelty for the world to see. "Look at him." she sneered, stepping up to the crib and glaring down at the child. "This grotesque little thing, with his misshapen head and his ugly little stubby hands. He should have died instead of her. He has no right to live."

Jaime stiffened beside Y/N, his hand curling into a fist. Y/N swallowed hard, shifting uncomfortably as Elia frowned deeply, her hands clasped before her.

"He is just a babe, Cersei." Elia murmured, but Cersei did not hear her, nor did she care to hear. She reached into the crib, her fingers curling around Tyrion’s soft, chubby flesh.

"Cersei, don’t —" Jaime warned, but his sister ignored him. With a sharp squeeze, she took hold of the infant’s tiny prick and pressed, harder and harder, watching as Tyrion’s face scrunched up in agony before he let out a high, piercing wail.

"Cersei, stop!" Y/N gasped, stepping forward, but the golden-haired lioness only pressed harder, her teeth bared in fury.

"You are the reason she is dead!" she hissed at the helpless babe. "You took her from me! You killed her! You should have been strangled in the cradle, you little monster!" Jaime lunged, shoving Cersei back just as Oberyn moved. The black haired Prince grasped her wrist with a firm but careful grip, his dark eyes gleaming with something unreadable.

"He is just a babe." Oberyn said smoothly, though his voice held an undeniable sharpness. "He has done nothing wrong."

Cersei trembled with fury, but she did not pull away. Instead, she tore herself from Jaime’s grasp and stormed from the room without another word.

Silence settled awkwardly between them. The wet nurse hastily returned into the room to sooth the crying Tyrion, rocking him gently in her arms.

Elia exhaled, shaking her head. "I did not think Lord Tywin would allow such cruelty in his house, but I see now that grief can fester in many ways."

Y/N sighed, rubbing her arms as she turned to the Martell siblings. "I apologise sincerely for the way she acted... Cersei, she... She hasn’t been the same since Lady Joanna passed."

"Grief does not excuse cruelty, little rose." Oberyn countered, tilting his head at her. "Though I believe you already know that."

Jaime scowled but said nothing, his jaw tight with emotion. Then, as if the moment had never happened, Oberyn grinned. "Let us not dwell on sadness. I did not come all this way to be scolded by a child who thinks herself queen already."

Y/N blinked, startled by his sudden shift in tone and the boldness of his speech. "Our mother was friends with Lady Joanna, you know." Elia offered, her expression softening. "She had hopes that Oberyn would one day wed Cersei."

Jaime’s brows furrowed. "And now?"

Elia’s lips pressed into a thin line. "Now your Lord Father refuses to even entertain the idea. He says Cersei will only wed a king." Y/N frowned.

"But..." Oberyn cut in with a venomous smirk "He did have a counteroffer."

Elia rolled her eyes. "He suggested I wed your little brother."

Jaime stiffened, and Y/N’s mouth fell open in horror. "Tyrion?" they both gasped in shock.

Elia nodded. "As an insult, no doubt."

"And here I thought Tywin Lannister was known for his tact." Oberyn mused, shaking his head.

Jaime bristled, insulted by the free way the two siblings were talking. "You don’t have to accept it."

"Oh, we would never." Elia assured him with a tired smile.

Oberyn, however, had turned his gaze back to Y/N, his smirk growing playful. "But perhaps I was meant to marry the beautiful rose, not the feisty lioness, after all." he purred, stepping closer to her. "You seem far more interesting than your golden-haired friend; Mother told me only praises of you - The Queen of Thorns raised quite the beauty. "

Y/N’s eyes widened, being rendered speechless, as Jaime immediately stepped between them, scowling. "Don’t be foolish, Martell." Jaime snapped. "She is betrothed to me."

"A tragedy, surely." Oberyn sighed dramatically, pressing a hand to his heart. "But not one without its delights — I do enjoy a challenge."

Y/N flushed brightly at the Dornish Prince's boldness, as Jaime sneered further; Elia only laughed. "Do not let him tease you." she told Y/N warmly, taking her hand in hers. "My brother is reckless, but he means well."

Y/N smiled hesitantly. "I shall keep that in mind. Thank you, Princess." she replied, trying not to look at the way Jaime’s hand twitched at his side. For some reason, Elia's hand holding hers made her feel... Warm. It was a special kind of safeness and joy that she only had when playing around with her own sisters. How strange, feeling that with a girl she has only just met.

Oberyn winked. "Good. That makes it all the more fun."

Elia thought her brother was only hell-bent on humiliating the Lannisters, though the little rose proved to be his main source of interest. Was her brother actually interested in a girl to marry, for once? Usually he wasn't so delicate with girls he wanted to charm the skirts off. That night, the two Martell siblings chatted away until they fell asleep - How happy Oberyn was that he no longer had to marry such an awful girl - The mere thought of having to marry Cersei Lannister had him want to drown himself in the Water Gardens.

The two were very close with one another, and hoped to remain that way forever, sharing gossips and indulging in fun adventures together - One of them, of course, being the Tyrell rose - She was such a lovely girl, and so sweet once she actually started speaking to them; No more shyness as before, Y/N was giggling and laughing away with Elia and Oberyn at the feast, indulging in red wine like never before. Both Jaime and Cersei were shocked to see her like that - So free, so easy-going and haughty - She blended in with the two Dornish siblings almost perfectly; No wonder Highgarden and Dorne were so close to one another, the South was so lax and free of rules and regulations.

Y/N sat in front of Elia and Oberyn, between the two Lannister twins, sharing laughter and conversation, while Jaime sat strangely quiet and awkward; Cersei, meanwhile, was very clearly displeased, scowling over her goblet of wine as she watched her only friend bond with Elia in ways that the two of them never did before. What did that Dornish whore have that she didn't? She had black hair and black eyes, and looked average at best - And she wasn't the least bit interesting or special. Elia Martell wasn't a lioness like her - So why was she so much more interesting to Y/N than her?

"And then I met Baelor Hightower - He was a very nice young man - Or at least, that's what I thought. Half in love with him; Very gallant and sweet... That is..." both siblings bent over the table to speak in a hushed tone.

"He farted!" they said in union, making the three of them loud loudly and very peasantly.

"No way! Really?!" Y/N couldn't believe her ears. "That is horrible!"

"Now he is Ser Baelor Breakwind." Oberyn said confidently, making the girl double over laughing.

"I could not look at him anymore without laughing - Poor man!" Elia was crying tears of laughter.

"That sounds hilarious - Truly!" Y/N entertained them so; Jaime tried to laugh a little, but felt ashamed, whereas Cersei continued to drink herself into a jealous drunkness; Why did Y/N never laugh like that around her? Was she not as funny as that ugly peasant girl?

"I must say, Y/N, you remind me so much of home." Elia mused with a warm smile. "We do not often have guests who understand the importance of good company and gossip. All these serious men, always talking of battles and honor."

"Exactly!" Y/N agreed eagerly. "They act as if laughing and enjoying oneself is some kind of crime. But truly, they just don’t know how to have fun."

Elia chuckled, while Oberyn smirked. "That, little flower, is where I come in." he said smoothly, pouring more wine into Y/N’s cup before she could protest. "I am an expert in fun. I could teach you, if you’d like."

Y/N raised a brow at him, amused. "And what exactly would you teach me, my prince?"

"How to live, of course!" Oberyn said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. "You are too young to be caged in a place like this, burdened with duty. In Dorne, you would be free. No one would make you wed against your will. You would never have to birth heirs if you did not wish to. You could ride where you please, dance when you like, and no one would dare tell you otherwise."

Jaime made a face, finally speaking. "That’s easy to say when you’re not the heir to anything important. Just a second son meant to inherit nothing."

Oberyn laughed, unbothered. "Exactly, little foolish lion. That is the very best part." He turned back to Y/N, eyes twinkling. "I am not the Prince of Dorne, I am merely a prince of Dorne. That means I may do as I please. And if you were to come with me, so would you."

Y/N chuckled, shaking her head. "You make it sound so tempting."

"That is because it is." he said, lifting his goblet to his lips, watching the beauty before him with his sparkling gem eyes.

Jaime clenched his jaw, while Cersei rolled her eyes. "You do realize she is to marry Jaime, don’t you?" Cersei said, her voice dripping with smugness. "She is betrothed to my twin. You may flirt all you like, but Y/N belongs to House Lannister. Not Dorne."

Oberyn didn’t even bat an eye. "Is that so?" he mused. He turned to Y/N, a teasing smile on his lips. "And tell me, my lady — Do you wish to belong to House Lannister?"

Y/N hesitated, and said nothing. Suddenly, the fun vanished, and she was placed behind two rocks that could kill her. She glanced at Jaime, who looked more sullen than anything, before shifting her gaze to Cersei — Who very much expected her to say yes.

Y/N sighed, placing down her goblet, sobering up. "My name is Y/N Tyrell, The Rose of the Realm, Lady of House Tyrell of Highgarden, daughter of the Warden of the South, protector of the Reach." she spoke, earning a widening grin from the Prince, who realised just what she was saying - She is her own master, and no one can own her.

"Then take a vacation - Come to Dorne." Oberyn said, resting his chin in his hand as he watched her with loving eyes, completely enamoured by her. "I shall steal you away, and we will see what adventures await you beyond these dull stone halls."

"You cannot steal what is already mine!" Cersei snapped, glaring and slamming her empty goblet on the table.

Oberyn laughed. "Yours? How curious. I see no collar around her neck."

Jaime scowled. "She’s not going anywhere."

"We shall see, little lion. Duty can only get you so far - Dissatisfaction gets you even farther." Oberyn mused, twirling his goblet between his fingers before looking back at Y/N. "If ever you find yourself longing for happiness and warmth, remember — Dorne is always warm, the Water Gardens are always open, and I will always be happy to escort you there myself."

Y/N bit her lip, trying to suppress a smile. The thought of walking hand in hand with Oberyn and Elia, and having fun in the Water Gardens actually sounded fantastic. Elia giggled beside her. "You truly are shameless, brother." she said. "Though, I agree - Y/N, I would love it if you visited us someday. We could have so much fun."

"Oh, dear sister, that is not even the half of it." Oberyn winked.

Jaime scowled, Cersei fumed, and Y/N found herself laughing despite it all. It seemed Oberyn Martell had a way of making everything more interesting, the Tyrell girl thought to herself, somewhat blinded by the allure of freedom and hedonism, of a life filled with luxury yet none of the responsibility; The cries and death of Lady Joanna still haunted her, reverbing through every night terror she had;

But could she really forsake it all and run away, just for her own happiness?

The night was still, save for the whisper of the sea far below and the distant hoot of an owl. The candles in Y/N’s chamber had long since burned low, leaving only the glow of the moon spilling through her open balcony doors, along with her restless thoughts and the pain in her heart.

Why was choosing so difficult, she thought to herself, absent-mindedly staring at the ceiling. She wasn't truly betrothed to Jaime, they were far too young, of course - However, her mother and Jaime's mother were good friends, and alliance between their two houses was an outstanding power; Of course, the fact that the two of them got along so well was simply a coincidence, though a much pleasant one.

Yet there she is, racking her brains over a choice - And it wasn't just the illusion of choice that most people lament over - It was a true choice handed to her.

She met Jaime when they were so young, and they got along so well; He was so just and gallant, a true knight in the making, and Y/N was sure he will end up growing into such a strong and righteous man who would treat her right and protect her from any woe...

And then, there was Oberyn Martell, the half-mad Prince of Dorne; Already a young man, older and more experienced than her in both life and romance; He was insane enough to steal her away from the Rock and make her his Princess, lavish her with jewels and flowers and ride together into adventures... Possibly even indulge in hedonism and lust that would make even the most experienced whore ge flustered and blush... And for the first time in her life, Y/N felt excitement in her heart, and restlessness, as if her feet were burning to run with no shoes down the grassy field, so fast that she would end up flying like a cageless bird.

She was so... Bored to death, being the perfect little flower, here in the cold Westerlands; She wanted to go back home in the reach and ride with her sisters and hunt with her brother, to recite poems dramatically and play with her falcon... She wanted to decipher riddles with her mother, and dance and sing with the commonfolk surrounded by flowers of all kinds...

She hadn't realised how much she missed home, until Elia and Oberyn came into her life, reminding her of the sweet memories lingering in her heart, tugging at the strings and shrieking at her to return to her origins, down South where it was warmer and more welcoming.

"Truly, little rose, you ought to lock your doors." a familiar voice was followed by a thud and Y/N's imminent yet adorable squeak of surprise. "Unless, of course, you had been waiting for me, and to that, I would have to apologise for my tardiness. It is unbecoming of me to make such a lovely lady wait."

Y/N turned sharply, only to find Oberyn Martell perched upon her balcony, balanced effortlessly on the rail as if he had all the time in the world. His grin was wicked, his eyes gleaming in the dark. Just like a viper ready to steal her away from this life.

"Ryn...!" she hissed, rushing forward, not sure whether to scold or shush him. "Are you mad? What if someone sees you being an absolute menace, sneaking into my room like that?" though she scolded him, her fingers dug hastily into his disheveled open shirt and pulled him into the room to safety, checking for injuries all over.

"Then they will think I have good taste. I have always been a fan of sweet perfumes." he said easily, holding her hands gingerly. "Come, I have come to steal you away for one last adventure before I must return to the red sands of home."

Y/N crossed her arms, playing defiant. "You think I will just climb out of my own chamber like a common thief? Do you not know it is unlady-like for one of my status - Betrothed, no less - To be roaming around with a bachelor like yourself, in the shroud of mystery and the veil of night?"

Oberyn bent at the waist and offering a suave yet provoking smirk. "Do you need me to carry you, then? Young ladies like yourself truly have high standards these days." she swatted at him with a bratty huff, but he only laughed, catching her wrist and pressing a soft kiss to the inside of it. "Do not make me beg, sweet girl." he murmured against her skin. "Come walk with me one last time, before I must leave you behind in this prison of stone and gold."

"What if I do want you to beg? Would you do that?" with an air of arrogance that clearly wasn't quite working (Oberyn found it quite funny, in fact, how coy she was playing, as opposed to the snobby Cersei and her unbecoming arrogance), Y/N looked away from the Martell prince, as if she wasn't even noticing his presence.

"Aye, but of course, for such a beauty -- " he gallantly went on one knee, holding her hand and kissing her fingers gently. "I would even beg on my knees for favour."

Y/N hesitated. But gods, how could she say no? The Dornish retinue was to leave back to Sunspear the following morning; That was the last time she would be seeing Oberyn in a long time, she was well aware... Denying his offer would make her regret her entire life...

Perhaps, just a little bit of naughtiness couldn't hurt, could it?

With a sigh, she grabbed a cloak from her chair and threw it over her shoulders. "You have earned my time, I suppose..." she cleared her throat as a way to hide the rosy hue of her cheeks.

Oberyn grinned before hopping back to his feet and picking Y/N up like a princess and sneaking through the quiet halls and down into the moonlit gardens, where the scent of roses and lavender filled the cool night air.

For a while, Oberyn didn't want to let Y/N down, and he walked like that just holding her in his arms, as if she was as light as a rose; Though he knew, something was awfully wrong, by the way she was so awfully silent and snuggling into the crook of his neck as if she was nothing more than a baby kitten.

"You are too quiet, little rose." Oberyn said, glancing at her. "What could be ailing that a lovely dove?"

Y/N exhaled. "I..." her voice was as sweet as a whisper. "I am afraid of the power of choice and consequence."

"Ah, thought so." he said, carefully placing her on the ground. "For someone who has lived a pre-determined life, a story already written, to be facing a crossroad with different destinations... Well, I do not envy you, sweet girl." he let out a dry chuckle. "At least you are wise enough to know you deserve better than to be shackled by duty."

"Duty is all I have ever known." she admitted. "And the love of my parents, who wish for me to live a happy life bound to a man who would care for me as if I was a porcelain doll."

Oberyn’s playful expression softened. "What great parents you have, sweet rose." he said, stepping in front of her and twirling a lock of her hair around his finger. "And between duty and love, what is it that truly terrifies you?"

She swallowed. "What terrifies me is the intersection between duty and love." she hesitated, her voice faltering.

Oberyn, ever perceptive, filled in the blanks. "You are afraid of childbirth." he murmured, watching with gentle eyes as Y/N looked away, her hands tightening in her cloak with great shame. "I know. Elia told me." he continued, his voice ever darling. "To be afraid, and to be unable to speak it out, in fear of snubbing and judgement. You are not the first, nor the last woman in such position - And once again, I do not envy your position." his rough hand was warm, caressing her delicate face. "Men are simple creatures - We get drunk, we get our cock buried deep in some pretty woman, and we run to war." he picked her chin, raising it up. "I do not claim to be a saint. I will not lie to you - I am as much of a whore as the girls in the brothel, except I don't get paid. I like women, and I like men, the same as I like to shed blood and kill. If you marry me, I will not promise you faithfulness, but I can promise you safety, luxury and understanding. I do not require children of you, nor will I ever." his other hand sneaked around her waist, pulling her closer to his body.

"Then why... Are you doing this...?" her voice was so soft that he almost didn't hear her; A good question - One which made him chuckle, looking down into those sparkling eyes of her, gleaming in the silver light of the moon.

"Not from the goodness of my heart, nor from selflessness, of course." he joked. "Not only did Elia like you very much - But you are also a beauty that has intrigued me so."

"Beauty is not what captivated you, Ryn." his smile widened.

"Not alone, true, though it paid a good part in it." he said. "Truth is, you are what Elia would have been, if she weren't so sick. Now, don't get me wrong, I haven't gotten smitten with you because you remind me of my sister - I am not those foolish lion cubs - But you are... Just like a little kitten, trying to look all cute and graceful, but you wouldn't pass up an opportunity to run around hunting mice and scratching the drapes to ribbons."

"Are you calling me a mischief, Ryn? My, how unbecoming of me - I have become haughty!" she tried to laugh it off, but it caused no effect.

Oberyn looked down at the girl, and his smile softened. "Your heart belongs to Jaime Lannister, doesn't it?" she remained silent as she averted her sight away from him. "Thought so. He is the dream of every little lady, isn't he? A gallant knight to take care of the fair lady."

Y/N looked at him then — Truly looked. The way the moonlight kissed his sun-bronzed skin, the way his dark hair framed his sharp features. He was beautiful, and he was tempting.

But her heart was torn.

"Jaime... He... He is not like Cersei." her breath was hitched in her throat. "He... Is very kind with me, and very sweet. He is genuine... And a little dumb sometimes, but not in a bad way. I mean... He is very... Innocent and pure. He is... Like a ray of sunshine. That's how I see him... And when he smiles... When he is happy, he... He is just so..."

Oberyn studied her for a long moment before letting out a small sigh. "What a lucky lad." he said. "I've heard enough, sweetling. No need to tease me more, I understand your heart better than you do." he said, pulling her closer. "Just know, if the lions ever forget their place, and you find yourself feeling all alone, that half of my bed shall remain empty only for you, and that I will marry no woman but you." hearing such a bold statement, Y/N tried to protest - Except, she was hushed instantly.

"And if I never do?" she asked, almost terrified to know the answer.

Oberyn’s fingers brushed her cheek. "Then I shall mourn the loss of my sweetest dream." she felt her heart clench, and gleaming crystal tears started stinging her eyes. "Now, now, sweet girl, don't cry over me - Instead, let me teach you one little trick that you can use on that fool, to see if he truly loves you."

"Wh-What...?" the girl stammered over her words, unable to understand his meaning.

"When you get bold enough to go for a kiss, do this --" he cupped her face carefully, making her look him in the eyes. "Look into his eyes, and see deep into his soul - Don't ask me to explain, you will understand when it happens - And then... Lean in slowly..." his lips captured her soft ones, as pink and soft as the petals of a flower, and sweeter than anyone he's ever tasted before. He was going crazy, his body felt hot and his hands wanted to grip her body and feel her skin; He was suffocating with love and lust all over. "... you will know."

He observed the small pants of her breath, and the sparkle of her eyes as she looked up at him as if she'd seen the Gods. He knew - And now, so did she.

"Yes." she breathed out. "I do know, now." and before she could stop herself, she reached into her cloak and pulled out a small, embroidered handkerchief. "Here..." she said, pressing it into his hand. "Something to remember me by."

Oberyn glanced down, fingers tracing over the intricate golden suns stitched into the soft fabric. His lips quirked, twitching into a smile. "Ah. You wound me, little flower — This will only make me miss you more."

Before she could respond, he leaned in, his lips brushing hers in a kiss that was as soft as it was fleeting. It was not a kiss of conquest, nor of demand. It was a kiss of promise. Of something unfinished. Of reunion, not of confession like the one before.

When he pulled away, he sighed. "Ah, if only I had met you first."

Y/N smiled, though her eyes were misty. "Goodbye, Oberyn."

He smirked, stepping back into the shadows. "Not forever, sweet girl. Just for now." and with that, he was gone, leaving her alone in the garden, clutching her lips, and wondering if fate was truly so cruel.

That night, she did not sleep - Instead, she pondered over his words - Now, she knows - Yes, she knows, Oberyn's feelings for her; She felt those through that kiss; He was genuine, he was true. And he, also, knows her feelings for him - Though, he knows her heart better than even she, and he knew, she loved Jaime, not him. How peculiar love is - An emotion she does not comprehend as well as she thought she did.

Perhaps that mattered little - The sweet dream will be over in the morn, and with it, so will the reverie. Oberyn and Elia will be back in Dorne, and Jaime will be going away from the Rock for his training as a squire; That meant Y/N was finally free to return home where she was happiest and safest, away from problems and responsibilities - And away from the love confusion she created for herself.

Tywin Lannister's ambitions remain big, and for Prince Viserys' birth, he hosted a tourney at Lannisport; Once again, Y/N and the twins were inseparable as they watched the jousting and cheered for the finest knights;

Of course, Cersei was completely head over heels in love, watching Prince Rhaegar Targaryen winning joust after joust, defeating the likes of Tywin's finest knights - And even the renowned Barristan the Bold! Everyone was cheering for the Young Dragon -- Only for him to lose to the Sword of the Morning, Ser Arthur Dayne - That is when Jaime started cheering the hardest; He worshiped Ser Dayne more than anything - And he wanted to become just like him.

Of course, the Crown Prince was then knighted, and Cersei couldn't stop babbling about her supposed future husband - Her aunt, Lady Genna, had told her their betrothal will be announced at the feast, and she was so excited to marry such a gorgeous and strong Prince!

Thoughts of Jaime were no longer in her head - Y/N can have Jaime, for all she cares - As long as she has Rhaegar Targaryen, she was happy;

That night, Cersei climbed into Y/N's bed, shaking her awake. "Don't you dare sleep, Y/N. I've got plans for us." she said, before dragging Y/N, along with her other two bedmaids, Melara and Jeyne, towards the forest, at the tent of the witch, Maggy the Frog.

The air was thick with the scent of damp moss and rotting leaves, the distant hoot of an owl cutting through the quiet as four cloaked figures slipped through the trees. The tourney grounds were far behind them now, the laughter of revelers and the clang of steel lost to the whispering night.

"We shouldn't have left the camp." one of the bedmaids muttered. "If we’re caught — "

"We won’t be caught." Cersei interrupted sharply. "Unless you keep whining and get us lost."

"Uh... Cersei...? Are you sure you know what you're doing...?" Y/N wasn't particularly afraid, rather, she was confused and uncomfortable at the idea of seeking fortune from an old crone. She was never superstitious, and she believed people forge their own fates - However, there was a little bit of a gnawing thought at the back of her head, screaming at her to run away.

"Don't be a craven, Y/N. We'll get your prophecy also. Now hush - Get inside." the lioness spat, shoving Y/N further.

Ahead, nestled between gnarled trees, was a crooked tent, its thatched roof sagging as though burdened by centuries of secrets. The only light came from within, flickering behind crude shutters. Y/N felt the chill before they even stepped inside.

Cersei was the first to push through the sheer leather door. A sickly-sweet aroma of herbs and decay clung to the air. Maggy the Frog expecting them.

Her skin was sallow, her lips shriveled, her eyes like frog slits in a face wrinkled and worn by time and warts. She was seated behind a battered table, three bowls of some dark, viscous liquid set before her.

The girl with the golden curls put her hands upon her hips. "Give us our foretelling, or I'll go to my Lord Father and have you whipped for insolence."

"Please..." begged Melara. "Just tell us our futures, then we'll go."

"Some are here who have no futures-" Maggy muttered in her terrible deep voice. She pulled her robe about her shoulders and beckoned the girls closer. "Come, if you will not go. Fools. Come, yes. I must taste your blood."

Melara paled, but not Cersei. A lioness does not fear a frog, no matter how old and ugly she might be. She should have gone, she should have listened, she should have run away. Instead she took the dagger Maggy offered her, and ran the twisted iron blade across the ball of her thumb. Then she did Melara too.

In the dim green tent, the blood seemed more black than red. Maggy's toothless mouth trembled at the sight of it. "Here..." she whispered. ".... give it here." when Cersei offered her hand, she sucked away the blood with gums as soft as a newborn babe's. Y/N looked with disgust, her body cringing away from the sight.

"Three questions may you ask." the crone said, once she'd had her drink. "You will not like my answers. Ask, or begone with you."

But Cersei was unrelenting and ever confident. "When will I wed the prince?" she asked.

"Never. You will wed the king."

Beneath her golden locks, the girl's face wrinkled up in puzzlement. Did that mean she will marry Prince Rhaegar after King Aerys died? Was he ill? Was that why her father and aunt told her about the betrothal so soon? "I will be queen, then?" asked the girl again.

"Aye." malice gleamed in Maggy's citrine yellow eyes. "Queen you shall be... Until there comes another, younger and more beautiful, to cast you down and take all that you hold dear." Y/N was sure she had heard that in some fable sung by a bard at a tavern. There was no way that was true, she thought to herself, rolling her eyes. Far too unspecific.

Anger flashed across Cersei's face. "If she tries I will have my brother kill her." wrathful as she was, she still had one more question due her, one more glimpse into her life to come. "Will the king and I have children?" she asked.

"Oh, aye. Six-and-ten for him, and three for you."

That made no sense to Cersei. Her thumb was throbbing where she'd cut it, and her blood was dripping on the carpet. How could that be? she wanted to ask, but she was done with her questions. She looked at Y/N, who looked back at her - She was just as confused, yet held a solemn look on her face. She must be sensing something amiss.

The old woman was not done with her, however. "Gold shall be their crowns and gold their shrouds." she said. "And when your tears have drowned you, the valonqar shall wrap his hands about your pale white throat and choke the life from you."

"What is a valonqar? Some monster?" the golden girl did not like that foretelling. "You're a liar and a warty frog and a smelly old savage, and I don't believe a word of what you say." Cersei huffed in anger, stomping her foot on the ground before grabbing Y/N's hand.

Y/N was silent, and she looked at her golden friend with a pondering look. "You got us all the way here to hear your future, but you are not happy with it." came her cold reply. "Granted, I agree with you - Everything the witch has foretold sounded like nothing more than the stories old nan used to tell us when we were nothing but babes. Fairy tales and bard songs for children who love dreaming. Nothing specific to you, nor something that could prove her craft." no, she was lying, and by the ugly grin on the witch's face, she knew she was found out. "Witch Maggy, my name is Y/N of house Tyrell. I shall give you blood, so in return, grant me three questions. Fair exchange?"

The old woman grinned disgustingly. "As fair as a deal can be, little rose." she tapped her fingers together with enthuse, watching the young lady cut her finger and offering her blood for her to lick off. "Mhh, sweet blood, like a flower's honey. Your answers might be more to your liking than your friends' over there." she let out a broken cackle. "Ask away, ask away."

"Here is an easy one - Like any lady, I am interested - Who will I marry?" Y/N stood tall, eyeing the old witch for her response. She knew best what was in her heart, what was in her life - Any bit of specifics, she will know.

The witch inhaled deeply. Then she exhaled a long, slow breath — One that sent a shiver down Y/N’s spine. "Two men shall claim your hand - A red viper, swift and deadly; A golden lion, valiant and proud" she foretold. "One shall dance under the red Sun, while the other will sing under the golden Moon." that... Sure was cryptic enough, Y/N thought to herself; It wasn't difficult to guess the two people involved, though the cause of it sure was mysterious.

"Will I have any children?" came her most feared question,

"Your womb shall be as the winter earth — cold, barren, untouched by spring. No babe shall suckle at your breast. No heir shall cry your name."

Her breath hitched. She wasn’t sure if it was relief or fear curling around her ribs. Y/N's hands trembled, along with her heart. Would a husband cast her aside for this? Would she be tossed away like a withered rose, unwanted and forgotten?

She felt Cersei’s fingers curl around her wrist, nails biting into her skin. Cersei was smiling, albeit, bitterly.

"Poor Y/N." she murmured, feigning pity. "No children for you. No little lions. No legacy." even better, Cersei thought to herself - If Jaime and Y/N don't have children, they can't have reason to return to the Rock and leave her alone in King's Landing.

She was pleased - And Y/N knew very well why. Cersei was never as smart as she was, nor did she listen to her father's words when he told her so. Pity.

"Why will I have to marry a second time?" came the last question.

"The viper shall topple over the mountain, yet perish beneath its weight." Y/N frowned at the thought of Oberyn dying, thought she couldn't comprehend why. "You, who shall free the lion of its shackles, shall lead the pride."

Cersei's hand squeezed Y/N's so hard that she thought it would shatter. "Go now, little flower." Maggy crooned. "And remember… All prophecy is a curse, for it binds those who seek to escape it."

"I get three questions too!" Melara's meek voice squeaked out, and when Cersei and Jeyne tugged upon her arm, she wriggled free and turned back to the crone. "Will I marry Jaime?" she blurted out.

You stupid girl, Cersei thought, angry at the idea - She could live with Jaime marrying Y/N, provided they stand by her side - But Melara? Jaime does not even know you are alive, you dumb broad. Jaime lives only for swords and dogs and horses... And for her and Y/N.

"No, you absolute idiot - Did you not hear? Jaime - My betrothed - Shall marry me." Y/N rolled her eyes at her idiocy; "If you want to marry Jaime, you first have to let him know you exist, you lowborn fool." it wasn't often that Y/N spat out such vile insults - It even surprised Cersei, who felt proud of her.

"B-But... I-I... I loved him...!" there were defiant tears in her eyes.

"Hush now, Mel, no need to get upset. There are plenty of pretty boys for our status." Jeyne tried to sooth her friend,

"Not Jaime, nor any other man." said Maggy. "Worms will have your maidenhead. Your death is here tonight, little one. Can you smell her breath? She is very close."

"The only breath we smell is yours." said Cersei. There was a jar of some thick potion by her elbow, sitting on a table. She snatched it up and threw it into the old woman's eyes.

Y/N stumbled back from, Cersei pulling her away, and they ran away into the cold night air, followed by Melara and Jeyne. Once they got back to the retinue, Jeyne sneaked back to her chambers, pretending she never even knew the existence of a witch.

Melara, however... Wasn't as lucky.

"What gives you the right to marry Jaime, and not me?" the poor idiot dared to speak back to Y/N, making both the flower and the lioness look back at her with terrifying eyes. "I love Jaime - Truly, I do! More than you ever will!" her declaration was bold and false. "You just marry him for wealth and status - Besides - What good are you to the future heir of Casterly Rock when you are a failure as a woman and cannot birth him heirs?!"

"It would serve you well to shut your mouth, Melara. If my Lord Father hears about the treason you are spewing, he would sear your tongue off himself." Y/N wasn't expecting Cersei, of all people, to side with her - But in a morbid way, she was enjoying it. "Besides, my brother loves Y/N - Everyone knows that. There is no competition - Especially not from some peasant girl like you. You should count your blessings that we even know your name at all. Clearly you don't deserve even that much grace."

"You are a vile, manipulative, evil liar!" Melara shouted, backing away in tears. "You don't speak for Jaime! I want to hear it from his mouth, not yours! He is gallant and just and fair - Unlike you two!"

"Melara." Y/N stepped forward with such morbid elegance that it resembled a ghost. Melara's blood froze in her veins and was unable to stop Tyrell's hands from wrapping around her neck. "Can you smell the stench of death?" she asked, pushing her backwards, towards the well. "Because you reek of it."

"LET ME GO! HELP, SOMEBODY---"

But it was too late; Once Cersei leaped to help her friend, she slapped her hand over Melara's hand and together, they pushed her down her well, to her doom.

"At least we know the witch was right about one prophecy." Y/N grumbled, dusting herself off. "I guess this remains our little secret." she said, offering the lioness her pinky finger.

"It has always been the two of us, Y/N. In duty and in joy." the lioness smiled, hooking her pinky to her friend's. With this crime committed, they were ever closer - Closer than they've ever been before - Closer than that Dornish whore would ever hope to be to her best and only friend.

And thus, they shared a secret that will be their forever, until the dawn of time - Though Y/N refused to tell Cersei she knew the meaning of the word 'valonqar' ; She didn't want to make her hate poor Tyrion even more than she already did, though she was sure it was inevitable, with how she blamed Joanna's death on him. She shall never change.

Before long, Jaime was no longer a squire, but a knight, sered by no other than Ser Arthur Dayne himself - His greatest honour, he must be so proud, Y/N thought to herself with immense joy, as she waited his return in King's Landing; By now, Y/N had also remained in King's Landing to be Elia Martel's lady in waiting as she married Prince Rhaegar, much to Cersei's dismay, having to live three years in the castle, only the watch the man you fell in love with, marry and sire children with the Dornish whore who wanted to steal both her brother and her best friend.

She deserved to die, like sickly ugly thing.

Alas, that idiot, Y/N, was taking good care of her, even after the birth of their first child, Princess Rhaenys. What an ugly, squalling thing. HER children would never be that disgusting and loud.

Cersei was livid - She felt invisible to even her only friend, as though she did not matter anymore. How could she not? She was Cersei Lannister - There was no way that sand bitch was better than her. She deserved to die. She deserved to perish in a most brutal and torturous way.

Y/N was hers. ONLY hers. And so do Jaime and Rhaegar.

All three of them shall be hers, one way or another, even if she had to topple over the mountains and drain the oceans.

Thus came her brilliant idea - When Jaime was to return to King's Landing, they would meet up at an old inn, and she would bewitch him into a scheme; A most clever scheme, of which even her father would be proud - A scheme that would ensure both Y/N and Jaime remain by her side forever and ever and ever.

aime found Cersei waiting for him in the high tower, bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun. Her beauty was sharper than a blade, her smile as knowing as a cat’s. She had summoned him, and as always, he came.

"Jaime." she murmured, stepping closer, her fingers trailing up his arm. "You are finally the knight you've always dreamt to be. Congratulations to you." she said, drawing closer to him. "You must be happy - Thrilled, even. Thrilled enough to spend the night with your fair lady, perhaps?" she purred into his ear. "Or... You would rather have me, the one who loves you most in this world? The one to whom your soul is bound for life and death?"

"I..." Jaime blinked, his head hung, feeling a little dazed. "I wanted to tell Y/N. She's been waiting for me all this time. I want to make her proud - To make her happy. She's encouraged and supported me so long... I..."

Cersei’s lips pressed together, displeasure flashing in her green eyes. But she smoothed it away, tilting her head as if in sympathy.

"Then you are happy with the marriage?" she asked. "To be tied to her? To live your days as Lord of Casterly Rock, ruling, scheming, passing dull judgments while your wife bears you children embroiders handkerchiefs?"

Jaime hesitated. When she put it like that... Being a Lord did not sound quite as exciting as he thought it would... But he had so much fun with Y/N as a child - Life with her couldn't ever be dull... Right?

"That’s not what you dreamed of, is it?" she pressed, her voice a whisper now, close enough that he could smell the perfume on her skin — Flowers and oils, intoxicating. "You wanted to be a knight. A true knight."

Jaime swallowed. "I am a knight."

"Are you?" she breathed. "Not yet. Not like Ser Arthur Dayne, not like Ser Barristan Selmy. Their names will be sung for a thousand years. Will yours?" Jaime stiffened, the words cutting deeper than he expected.

"You have always wanted to be like them - And Y/N knows this. She's a good girl. She will understand. You are a golden lion like no other - You were made for glory and fame." she continued, stroking his cheek, peppering him with poison kisses. "And now you can. You are already the youngest knight in the realm, but imagine—" she smiled, and gods, how beautiful she was when she smiled. "—if you became the youngest Kingsguard in history."

His breath caught. "You could stand beside the greatest knights in the realm, your greatest deeds written in that stupid book they have for the Kingsguard members." she murmured. "Ride with them, fight with them, be one of them. And when people speak of the Kingsguard, they will not just name Arthur Dayne and Barristan Selmy. They will name you, Jaime Lannister, the Lion of the Rock, the youngest ever knight to be cloaked in white."

The thought sent a thrill through him. "And best of all..." Cersei continued. "You will be at my side, always. Protecting me, watching over me. No matter who I wed, we will be together in King’s Landing. The same goes for your sweet Y/N - She won't leave that bitch's side any time soon; She will remain here, in King's Landing all the same. You can bed her from time to time, whenever you miss her. Surely, she misses you by now."

Jaime looked away, his jaw tightening. "Or..." she purred, stepping around him, her fingers gliding over his chest. "You could move to Casterly Rock, all alone and away from the battlefield; Watch Y/N wed you in duty, not love. Watch her bear your children, but keep her heart locked away, because it is no longer yours."

Jaime frowned. "What are you saying?" there was no way -- The Y/N he knew held his heart, and he held hers.

Cersei’s lips curled in mock sympathy. "Oh, Jaime, you don’t see it? Oberyn Martell stole her heart the moment he laid eyes on her." she leaned in, whispering. "Do you remember that day, when the retinue came to our home? Did you forget the way she smiled at him? How she blushed under his gaze? How easily they spoke, laughed, like they had known each other all their lives?"

Jaime’s stomach twisted. "Do you think she would have embroidered a handkerchief for you?" Cersei murmured, tilting her head. "She gave him something to remember her by. She let him kiss her. And now he’s gone, off to Dorne, taking a piece of her with him." she continued with her vile tongue. "Did you know - Whenever that Dornish snake comes to visit his sand whore of a sister, he always spends the night in Y/N's chambers?"

Jaime clenched his fists. "But it doesn’t have to matter." Cersei said, drawing his face to hers. "Because you have me - And I would never betray you. We are twins, after all, are we not? If we cannot trust each other - Than who can we trust?"

Her lips hovered close — Too close.

"Father knows of the Martel Prince and Y/N; I heard him speaking to the Tully Lord about changing your betrothal to Lysa Tully - That oversized fat cow, remember? You don't want that, do you?" Jaime's look was that of sheer and utter disgust. "Come to King’s Landing, Jaime. Join the Kingsguard. Take the white cloak, become the knight you always dreamed of. And at night, when the castle sleeps, you will find your way to me, and I will be yours, as I have always been. Let father have his legacy. Let Y/N pine for the Dornish Prince..." Cersei rose her skirts and undid his breeches, sitting on his lap. "... or fuck the Dorne out of her mind. It is all the same. The three of us - We belong together; She's just lost her way, surely... I have heard those Martels have magic blood - They must have bewitched poor Y/N. We must bring her back to us, show her the way. She is one of us. We cannot lose her."

Her fingers curled into his hair, tugging gently. "The three of us belong together. That is the only truth that matters." Jaime closed his eyes, torn between reason and desire. Between honor and love. "Join the Kingsguard, and you can have it all." Cersei eased into him, and the young knight lost all reason.

"I shall join the Kingsguard."

But that was a decision he had to talk with his betrothed; In secret, he visited Y/N's chambers, late at night. Sneaking out, they go into the gardens, away from prying eyes - Though Y/N, most of all, is well aware of the whispers and gossips of the palace. Nowhere was safe.

The night air was thick with the scent of lemon trees and jasmine, the gardens of the Red Keep bathed in the silver light of the moon. The hum of crickets filled the silence, a peaceful contrast to the endless courtly games within the castle walls.

Y/N wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders as she stepped cautiously over the cobbled path. A warm hand caught hers, steadying her. "Careful." Jaime murmured, his voice quiet yet filled with familiar warmth.

She smiled softly up at him, her fingers curling against his palm before she let go. "You’ve changed." she observed, tilting her head. "You stand taller, prouder." she beamed at him. "You have become a true man."

Jaime grinned, glancing down at his freshly knighted hands, as though seeing them for the first time. "Ser Arthur Dayne knighted me himself." he admitted, voice laced with pride. "I want to be like him, Y/N. A true knight, one whose name will be remembered long after I am gone."

"The Sword of the Morning himself. What an honour." there was something bright in his gaze, something fierce and determined, but beneath it lay a quiet doubt. A hesitation he had yet to voice.

Y/N turned toward him fully, taking in the golden-haired boy who had been her closest friend since childhood. "You always wanted to be a knight." she said softly. "And now you are one." yet his nervousness was clear to the girl. "... A knighthood isn't enough for you, is it? You want more." Jaime's eyes widened in shock, and he looked away towards the walls of the Red Keep - Looming, suffocating. "You want to join the Kingsguard, don't you?"

The words sent a pang through his chest. "How did you know?"

"I have suspected that for a few years now, to be fair." she smiled sweetly at him. "You are brave and just, just like Ser Barristan the Bold and Ser Arthur Dayne - Both of which belong to the Kingsguard. The finest knights of the realm - The protectors of the people."

"You think... I am like them?" the golden lion had an almost boyish wonder in his eyes, flattered yet almost afraid to inquire for more.

"Ever since I have known you, yes, I have thought you were going to become a knight worthy of the greatest stories..." Y/N looked down with a sad smile. "Even if that meant you could never hold love for me, the same way I love you."

"Y/N..." he whispered out her name, his arms shooting up instinctually to hold her, but then he stopped abruptly. "I... I am sorry, I... I just..."

"That's alright. I understand." Y/N offered him a smile - It looked bittersweet and heartbroken. "I have been trying to come to peace with the idea for a while now. I did not expect you would be knighted so soon, truly - I thought I would still have your love for a few more years, maybe even marry first before you got to make that decision..." he remained quiet, frozen in place. "Alas..."

"Forgive me." he whispered. "I truly love you, Y/N." he confessed. "I love you with all my heart - I swear I do - I really do. You mean everything to me, I---"

"Hush now. You are a man, you must not fumble over your words like that." Y/N let out an amused breath. "Don't worry about me. Worry about your father. He will go mad when he hears your decision."

"Well... I suppose..." he gulped, looking down.

"Your sister must be happy. She will have you by her side all the time. Protecting her." Jaime looked at her, as if caught with a lie.

"I... Don't know what to say..." he admitted shamefully. "You... Are right. Both times, you are right." and she was right in silently deducing it was Cersei's ploy all the same, he realised.

Y/N was silent for a moment. She inhaled deeply, steadying her thoughts, her heart. There was a time when she believed her life and Jaime’s would be forever entwined, that they would grow old together, ruling over Casterly Rock - That future was fading like a dying ember. Just like Maggy the Frog said.

She reached for his hand, squeezing it gently.

"If this is what you truly want, Jaime." she said, her voice a whisper, "Then I will always stand by you and support you every step of the way."

Jaime’s breath hitched, his gaze snapping to hers. "You will?" he asked, bewildered by her loving tone. He thought she would be mad, hysterical, sobbing - But... Her reaction... Hurt him even more. She was as kind and loving with him as he remembers... What has he done?

"Of course." She smiled, warm and steady, despite the ache in her heart. "No matter where you go, no matter what you choose, my heart will always be yours. Even if we are not bound by marriage, even if our paths diverge. I will love you all the same."

Jaime blinked, as though trying to process the weight of her words. "Y/N…" His voice was unsteady.

"You are kind, Jaime." she continued, her eyes soft as she traced his features. "You are brave, and righteous, and good. You are a knight in the truest sense of the word, and I am proud of you." she held his hands, squeezing them dearly. "Do not let the world change who you are, my love."

Jaime exhaled sharply, almost as if the praise pained him. His fingers curled around hers, holding on as though she was an anchor in the storm of his thoughts. For so long, he had been told he was nothing without Cersei, that no one else would love him the way she did. But here was Y/N, looking at him with unwavering warmth, with admiration that was not manipulative, nor possessive. Just genuine, pure devotion.

"You deserve happiness, Jaime." she whispered. "And if this is what makes you happy, then I will not stand in your way."

Jaime opened his mouth, but no words came. Somewhere, in the depths of his mind, Cersei’s voice echoed—"She loves Oberyn. She has already chosen another."

But looking at Y/N now, standing before him with all the tenderness in the world, he knew — Cersei had lied. All this time, she had lied.

Jaime swallowed thickly, his grip on Y/N’s hand tightening, unable to let go.

"I should return." she said softly. "Elia will wonder where I am." Jaime nodded stiffly. "Before I go - May I ask for one single favour?"

"O-Of course. Anything for you." he declared whole-heartedly.

She reacher her finger up, brushing away a stray tear from his emerald eye. "Do not cry, Jaime Lannister - It was your decision. Do not regret it now." she said with a playful smile. "I will teach you a little trick - To see if someone truly loves you." she giggled, remembering her late-night lesson.

"Wh-What...?" the boy stammered over his words, unable to understand his meaning.

"When you get bold enough to go for a kiss, do this --" she cupped her face carefully, making him look her in the eyes. "Look into her eyes, and see deep into her soul - Don't ask me to explain, you will understand when it happens - And then... Lean in slowly..." her soft lips captured his chapped ones, rough and broken by the wind, yet sweet and plump like no other. She was going crazy, her body felt hot and her hands wanted to grip his body and feel his skin; She was suffocating with love and lust all over. "... you will know."

Y/N observed the small pants of his breath, and the sparkle of his eyes as he looked down at her as if he'd seen the Gods. Shee knew - And now, so did he.

"Yes..." he breathed out. "I do know, now." realisation blasted him like a brick in the head, striking his heart with a crossbow arrow - That kiss meant to him more than what he and Cersei had shared just a few hours previous. The lies she told him, just to keep him closer to her... Was it all worth it? Was it worth giving away Y/N's sweet love, for honour and fame and glory, and his twin's bed?

Y/N reached into her cloak and pulled out a small, embroidered handkerchief. "Here..." she said, pressing it into his hand. "Something to remember me by." it was embroidered with a golden lion among flowers, the same handkerchief she made years ago as she was watching him spar. She only worked on that when he was sparring, he remembers. He truly can't believe she held onto that...

"I shall be seeing you around, Jaime. I am wishing you only the best in the world." she turned around, pulling her hood on. "I love you." and she faded into the darkness.

As he stood there, alone in the gardens, he felt a hollow ache settle deep within him. For the first time, he wondered if he had made a terrible mistake.

Cersei's plan, however, did not go as smoothly as she'd hoped, for Tywin Lannister saw Jaime joining the Kingsguard a slight from the King against him - First, he refused having Jaime as a squire and Cersei and the Crown Prince's Consort, and now, he wants to take away his own heir; Cersei was taken back to the Rock, while Jaime was all alone in King's Landing... All alone, with Y/N. All alone, to witness the madness that everyone was whispering about.

The Madness of King Aerys Targaryen, second of his name.

He witness the King growing more paranoid by the minute, suspecting his own servants, his own family of treason; He had honorable knights and lords killed with Wildfire right in front of him, and Jaime's heart shattered with each of them. He became disillusioned, broken and disappointed - This wasn't what he wanted to become - Protector of a mad man who massacred the people he was supposed to rule over.

There was only so much he could 'Go away inside', as Ser Gerold Hightower taught him, and in turn, he also would teach others; And when he witnessed the unfair executions of both Lord Rickard Stark and his heir, Brandon, he felt goosebumps all over his skin, and bile coming into his mouth.

It wasn't fair. It wasn't how it was supposed to be.

Yet in spite of all this, what hurt the most was not the lost promise of a legacy, nor the fact that Cersei was no longer with him, or that the King chose him not for his skill, but to spite his father --

No.

What hurt the most was seeing how terrified Y/N was every day of her life.

He had to guard outside the chamber whenever the King would want to bed the Queen - And Y/N, also, would await just outside, to tend to the Queen afterwards; Each time, she would tremble more, would cry more, would melt and wither away... And he felt all the same.

Hearing the cries of agony coming from Queen Rhaella as she was bitten and mauled and clawed by her own husband during what should have been a most sweet and intimate act between two lovers...

Seeing Y/N in such a state hurt his heart, but hearing her describe the Queen's torture and the marks on her body, her suffering, at the hands of her own husband... It hurt just as much.

"We are the Kingsguard - We protect the Realm, the people... That includes the Queen also, doesn't it?" he asked once - A pure and innocent question, that of a young lad, Ser Hightower said.

"Just 'Go away inside', young man. We swore a vow to protect the King, not to judge him. As much as it pains me to say, we have to protect the Queen, aye - But not from the King himself, we cannot." it wasn't right. It wasn't fair. It wasn't just. It wasn't how it was supposed to be.

No man should ever hurt his woman. No Lord should ever hurt his Lady. No King should ever hurt his Queen.

Y/N stood in the dimly lit hallway, supporting her weight by leaning on the cold stone walls just outside the Queen’s chambers. The air was thick with the acrid scent of burnt incense, masking the stench of blood and fear that lingered behind the great doors.

Jaime stood beside her, on the other side of the door, his newly polished armor gleaming in the torchlight, but his face was pale, his jaw clenched tight, trying to fade away into the old memory of a happy life - The dream of a happy future with Y/N - A future that he threw away down the river with his own two hands.

From inside, muffled cries echoed through the stone walls — Queen Rhaella’s cries was reverbring through the cold halls like a tidal wave meant to drown the castle.

Jaime’s hands curled into fists. He had seen battle. He had trained with the best knights in the realm. But this? This was something else entirely. He was not prepared for this kind of brutality, nor did he want to be. Not when he had a duty to protect, and he was unable to.

Y/N stood stiffly, her hands trembling at her sides, wrinkling her skirts. Jaime could see it now — Truly see it. The way she clenched her teeth to keep her lips from quivering. The way her breathing was shallow, controlled. The side of Y/N that he'd never imagined he would see - Y/N, terrified, petrified out of her wits. And she had every reason to be. She was there where the Starks were killed. She was there when the Queen was abused. She was there when so many were burnt alive. The horrors, the crimes, the atrocities committed by the King himself - She had seen them all, in the past years since she's been at the court.

"Y/N…" he whispered her name, making her flinch at the sound of his voice, her shoulders tensing before she slowly turned to him. Her eyes — Gods, her doe eyes — Were wide, filled with unspoken terror and pooling with tears threatening to fall. How pitiful, how terrible.

"It’s alright." he murmured, reaching for her hand without thinking. She took it, fingers cold as ice. "Just try to Go away inside. It's the only way I manage to cope."

The Queen’s cries grew louder. Jaime swallowed, his grip on Y/N’s hand tightening. He had always thought her brave - Oft times, braver than him, but now, he understood — Her bravery had never been the absence of fear. It had been enduring it, despite the horror.

And he hated it. He hated that she had to endure this. He wanted to promise her that she will be safe in his arms, that he would protect her from any danger, that everything will be alright...

Not for the first time, he questioned everything - The Kingsguard. The vows. The honor he had been taught to uphold. What good was a sword if it could not protect the ones who needed it most?

As Y/N trembled beside him, Jaime made yet another oath, though this one was personal, made by his heart - No matter what, he would protect her - Even if it meant breaking all the other vows he had taken before.

The door was slammed open, and the King exited the chambers - He looked at Jaime and Y/N and let out a disgusting snarl. "Hands off the maidens, Lannister - You swore a vow to keep your cock dry like the deserts of Dorne." he pushed the lion away from the girl. "And you - Do you revere me so much that you tear up at the mere sight of my excellency? Ha!" he aggressively grabbed her jaw, squeezing it tightly, his long claw-like nails digging into her soft cheeks. "If you want something, get on your knees and worship my cock, just like your ancestors did before, you little Tyrell whore." he let out a gargled cackle, before pushing her to the ground and walking away. "Tag along, Lannister - You have to guard me as I take a piss."

Angered beyond belief, Jaime was forced to peer his eyes away from the tearful Y/N who picked herself off the ground and forced herself to get inside the Queen's chambers to tend to her. Reluctantly, he followed the mad king, listening to his awful insults of poor Y/N and the disgusting things he'd do to her;

This man wasn't meant to be King - This man wasn't even a man anymore. He was an outright monster, the nightmare that old nan told them when they were little children. Vile, uncouth, unworthy scum.

As the Lannister Knight was forced to hear the mad man's rant for longer that night, Y/N swiftly returned to her chambers, all alone, and hiding under her blankets, sobbing her woes into the pillow. She only remained in King's Landing out of love for Elia, not wanting her to remain all alone, especially after how she almost died giving birth to her second child, Aegon.

The moon hung high over King's Landing, casting silver slants of light through the thin curtains of Y/N’s chambers. A single candle burned on her bedside table, its flickering flame barely keeping the darkness at bay.

But the darkness wasn’t just in the room. It was in her mind. It was in her chest. It was the suffocating weight of fear pressing down on her ribs, curling around her throat like unseen fingers.

She wailed into the void, her body trembling, her breath ragged, her hands tearing away at her gorgeous hair...

A soft creak at the window stopped it all.

She barely registered it until a warm hand touched her shoulder out of nowhere, making her jump in her skin, almost shrieking her lungs out - Only to have a hand placed over her mouth, and a body over her;

"Sweet dove, it is me." a hushed voice whispered into her ear, soothing enough to calm her panic down.

"R-Ryn..." she stammered out, after the man in cause slowly took away his hand. "D-Don't do that again... I-I thought... I-... Y-You..."

Oberyn’s voice was softer than she had ever heard it. His usual teasing bravado was absent, replaced by something raw. Something real. Pure worry for her.

Y/N looked up at him, her tear-streaked face illuminated by the candlelight. Her breath a panting pace, her eyes puffy and pink, and face wet, hair disheveled; All whilst he looked as flawless as ever, those black eyes of his warm and darling, burning with the flame of the dimming candle light.

"What happened?" he asked, shifting his body so he would be kneeling on the bed before her.

The dam inside her broke, and her arms were thrown around the man, clinging onto him tightly, pulling him back on the bed so she could sob her life away into his bare chest.

"The King-" she gasped between sobs. "The things he does, Ryn—you don’t understand. Every night, I hear her scream. The Queen—" She choked on her words, shaking her head violently. "No one does anything. No one can do anything." she continued her broken string of words. "I tend to her every night when he claims her - And Every night, the wounds, the scars, the bruises... Worse and worse..." she mewled pitifully, breaking his heart. "And tonight... He... He even threatened me... Again... Spoken such disgusting words..."

Oberyn’s jaw tightened. She could see the anger in his eyes, simmering, barely restrained, like burning coal in the fire.

"Elia is safe with that silver haired cunt." he assured her, voice firm. "The Prince would never let any harm come to her. He can do at least that much, especially now, after she birthed him an heir." he grumbled with spite. "Almost at the cost of her life, that is."

"For now." Y/N whispered a truth that was better left unspoken, her voice barely audible. "But if anything happened to Rhaegar—"

She didn’t finish. They both knew what would happen. The Mad King was a monster, and no one was safe from his wrath.

Oberyn lifted a hand, brushing away her tears with a touch so gentle it nearly undid her. "You don’t belong here, sweet rose. This place is rotting. It’s poison." she nodded, her throat too tight to speak. "I’ll take you away from here." he vowed. "The next time I return to King’s Landing, I will bring you to Dorne. I swear it on my life." he vowed, holding her closer to his chest. "I shall do what that imbecile couldn't do and marry you; Keep you away from danger, safe and sound."

"Ryn..." she whimpered, her fingers gripping tightly onto him. "Can you stay here for the night? Please?" she nestled into him. "I am terrified of being alone."

"Of course, my sweetling."

Oberyn's promise to her was the only thing keeping her together in the days that followed... But those days weren't long, and then the rumors started. The whispers spread like wildfire. The gossip was heard far and wide, spread by the spiders's web.

Prince Oberyn Martell had been seen sneaking into Lady Y/N Tyrell’s chambers. Every night, the guards had seen a shadow slipping through the halls. The court loved gossip, and there was no story more tantalizing than a Dornish prince seducing a noble lady under the Mad King’s nose.

And the Mad King loved to punish.

Soon enough, before his very nose, before he even realised, the sky was burning red.

Outside the Red Keep, the city was aflame. The Lannister banners had come, the gates had been opened, and Tywin Lannister’s troops poured into King’s Landing like a tide of crimson and gold.

The King thought they were his salvation - His most trusted, most loyal servant had come to defeat the rebellion; He didn’t know they were his doom; And thus, the King had enough time to pass judgement on his favourite subject, the defying maiden that kept bewitching the Queen;

The only thing Y/N could do was pray for a quick death or a miracle - She knew there was carnage outside those walls; In the throne room there was only herself, the King, and her beloved White Knight, staring at them, stunned and mind-blocked.

Aerys’ fingers were bruising her wrists, his breath hot and vile against her cheek.

"You think you can defy me in my own castle?" he seethed, his grip tightening as he slammed her against the cold stone of his chamber wall. "You and your Dornish filth — Whoring under my roof—"

"I didn’t—" Y/N sobbed, struggling against him. "I swear, my King—please—" if Jaime thought Y/N was sleeping with another, would he still protect her? Would he still feel the same for her, as he did before? Did he believe the rumours?

The Mad man laughed. A sharp, deranged sound. "Please?" he mocked. "You beg me, yet you spread your legs for theviper? You deserve to burn just like the rest of them—" his fingers clawed at her skirts, and a scream built in her throat.

... Then she collapsed to the floor like a discarded doll, with blood spilling and spraying all over her; A blade slid through flesh, followed by the sound of a thud.

She gasped, stumbling back, crawling away from the blood pooling around the corpse of what was once King Aerys II.

Jaime stood before her, his pristine armor splattered with red, the white cloak of the Kingsguard stained and tainted. His hand gripped the hilt of his sword, staring with horror at the blade, and seeing the reflection - His reflection - Bloody and afraid.

His breath was ragged, his eyes wide, gaze shifted away, and Y/N realized—

He wasn’t looking at the King. He was looking at her.

"Y/N." he whispered, voice breaking, before he immediately collapsed on the ground by her side, gathering her into his arms, shaking and sobbing as she was. "I’ve got you." he murmured, holding her so tightly it almost hurt. "You’re safe now. You’re safe." she clung to him, her fingers curling into the fabric of his cloak, her body trembling violently. "It’s over. He cannot hurt you again. No one can." he promised, voice hoarse. "I won’t let anyone hurt you. Not ever again."

The King’s blood pooled around them, and Jaime held her as the world as they knew it burnt all around them.

When the doors were opened, Ned Stark was the first to see the horrific scene; Y/N was huddled away in a corned, Y/N had sat on the Iron Throne, his bloody blade over his knees, and looking into nothingness; What was he trying to prove? Kingslayer, that's what he was. A man with no honour, no shame, no morals.

Though Jaime was later pardoned for his sins, and retained his spot in the Kingsguard, to protect the next King - King Robert Baratheon, and his wife, Cersei Lannister - He found, much to his dismay, that Y/N wed Oberyn Martel and went to live with him in Dorne, never to return to King's Landing ever again.

He could not fault her - She held no happy memory of the capital, after all, and there was no joy that anyone here could bring her; He could not marry her, nor bring her comfort; She could have remained Cersei's lady in waiting, although, for how long, before she was forced to marry and fulfill her duty as a noble woman of her status.

Of course, the Queen was pissed - She demanded Y/N return to court - She wanted her friend back - That was the whole purpose of everything, to have Jaime and Y/N constantly by her side. But now, she lost her beautiful flower, what was she to do? There was only so much joy she could get out of sharing a bed with her brother - He still remained as foolish as always, caring only about swords and battles and all that nonsense. At least her and Y/N were bound by womanhood, by secrets, by so many traits they shared together.

Alas... That friendship was forever lost to time and destiny.

"A Wedding fit for a King, you said?" Lady Olenna Tyrell scoffed, looking away, though the corners of her mouth twitched upwards in a proud smile. "I almost do not recognise you, my child."

"That little atrocity is as much of a King as I am." Y/N huffed at her mother, slumping down on her chair unceremoniously. "No less, he is Cersei's bastard, with all the cruelty, and even less of a common sense than her." Oberyn chuckled light-heartedly, slumping down on the chair next to her, immediately reaching for the wine goblet. "I have already killed one Mad King - What is another?"

"Hush now, child, you did no such thing - It was the Kingslayer's blade, not your hand, which pierced the Mad King's belly." her mother scolded her, before straightening up. "The Sun of Dorne must have burnt your head, for you speak nonsense."

"Dear Lady, mother by law, are you not so proud of your little flower?" he played with a lock of her hair. "Hearing the news of her sweet niece's marriage - Second marriage - She jumped on the horse and tried to come here all the way, just to see her to safety." he mused with a sly smile. "Used to be she was so shy and passive - Now she grows hot headed, thirsting for blood and the safety of her kin."

"Fools, both of you." Olenna spat, though her eyes sparkled with motherly love. "Better feel blessed for your luck, not your heart or brain, for otherwise you would have still been lovesick over that fool who lusts over his sister's golden cunt - And what then would you have done? Killed your husband's bastards and live to tell the tale?"

"Instead, I would render us both lucky for marrying a man who got four chains at the Citadel just because he was bored out of his mind - Or, rather - A viper more proficient in poisons than any Maester in the land." the Queen of Thorns was quite fascinated by the way her daughter was speaking to her.

"And what, may I ask, is the price, then? Surely, the Red Viper of Dorne would not offer his aid out of the goodness of his heart." her eyes turned stern, looking at the Dornish prince.

"Could you perhaps be suggesting me cold-hearted when faced with my sweetling's distress? How cruel must you think me be, my dear lady mother by law." he did not seem the least bit offended. "Of course, my wish to exert vengeance on the Lannisters only adds to the thrill of fulfilling my darling's every wishes."

"Men are such fools - Only ever seeking the taste of honey in between a woman's legs." she rolled her eyes.

"I will have you know, the honey is very sweet - And so is the taste of revenge." Oberyn licked his lips sultry. "So why is there I hear you complain, when our goals have mutual finality?"

"He even has the venomous tongue of a viper." the old lady huffed, before smiling at her daughter. "Much better choice, I assure you." she said, referring to Jaime Lannister.

The scent of roses lingered in the air, mingling with the sharp aroma of Dornish wine that Oberyn swirled lazily in his goblet as they contemplated murder. A deadly collection of possibilities, carefully curated for the demise of a boy king who had lived far too long and was threatening the blooming of a flower..

Olenna tapped a delicate finger against the table, her sharp eyes narrowing at the selection before her. "The Strangler is effective, of course." she mused. "It tightens the throat, turns the face a lovely shade of purple… Quite dramatic, but too quick. A shame, really. I’d rather see him linger and wither on the ground like a pig."

Oberyn smirked. "You sound almost Dornish, Lady Olenna. In Dorne, we prefer a death to be… An experience. Something one does not simply slip away from, but feels with every agonizing breath."

Y/N tilted her head, glancing at her husband with a knowing smile. "Something slow, then. Something fitting for a boy who enjoys tormenting others — Wouldn't it be poetic justice if he suffered in turn?"

"Ah, my love, you understand me so well." Oberyn murmured, shaking his arm a little, only to reveal a small vial in between his fingers, which he fingered and played with idly. The liquid inside moved thickly, a deep, oily, murky green. "Basilisk blood."

Olenna raised a silvered brow. "I have heard tales of it - I had perhaps thought it to be simply that - A tale."

"It is a rare poison indeed - Legendary, in fact." Oberyn explained, watching the liquid slosh against the glass. "Derived from the fangs of the great lizards of the Isle of Tears, just off the northwest coast of Sothoryos. A single drop burns through a man’s veins, leaving him writhing in agony. His blood turns black, his flesh festers, and he screams until his throat is too raw to make another sound." He grinned. "Is that dramatic enough?"

Olenna took a slow sip of wine, considering. "Dramatic, certainly. But we are not simply making a statement, Prince Oberyn. We need precision. A public spectacle is well and good, but we must be certain the boy dies before anyone can suspect our hand in it." she declared. "I will be damned before I am forced to find that girl another husband - After all, who else but you has such renowned illicit knowledge?"

Y/N traced a finger over her own goblet, looking at the red wine with a pondering look. "The Bloodwyrm's Lament." she said, impressing her mother. "It forces painful convulsions, as well as heavy bleeding from the eyes, ears and nose."

"Clever." Olenna admitted. "And equally ruthless." she continued. "Plenty of ideas, yet which to use?"

Oberyn chuckled, setting down the basilisk blood. "We are at an impasse, I see? Then, perhaps, a blend?" he offered. "These beauties together could make for a fine crystal. Place it in any food or drink, and it shall be no more."

Y/N and Olenna both turned their eyes to him.

"Bloodwyrm's Lament for the initial pain, Basilisk Blood for the agony… and The Strangler to make certain he does not survive the ordeal." Oberyn spread his hands as if laying out a feast. "His body will convulse, his face will turn purple, his insides will rot as he chokes, and he will die knowing it was no simple accident, but a punishment crafted just for him - And we are all happy."

Y/N smirked. "Swift, but meaningful. Sweet revenge." she glanced at Olenna. "Perfectly balanced."

The Queen of Thorns hummed in approval. "And how do you propose we deliver this delightful crystal?"

Y/N leaned back, tapping her nail against her goblet. "The wine will be too closely watched - Not to mention, Margaery would be sharing a goblet with him. The main courses will be tested for poison. But the wedding pie…" she smiled. "The doves will be the main spectacle, as will the newly weds. No one will notice if something is slipped into the king’s slice before it reaches him."

"And who, my dear, will have the honor of delivering the final touch?" Olenna asked, her voice laced with amusement.

The Tyrell woman spoke carefully. "Sansa Stark." surprising both her daughter and her husband.

Oberyn lifted a brow. "The poor girl?" he asked in surprise. "How could you have possibly managed to persuade her?"

"I never said she is a knowing accomplice." the woman waved her hand. "Girls love jewellery. Craft the poison crystal into a hairnet, and she won't suspect a thing." she continued on. "Besides - I doubt she would be opposed to marrying the grandson that you crippled, Viper. She must be in a great hurry to leave the lion's cage."

"You call me a dangerous and hot-headed man, yet every drop of your blood schemes." Oberyn grinned mirthfully. "You got that cunning tongue of yours from your mother, I see!" he looked with a twinkle of mischief at his wife.

Olenna took another sip of her wine, eyes gleaming with something murderous. "A dangerous man needs an intelligent wife to keep him in check."

"And a dangerous woman needs a husband who will let her be dangerous." Oberyn countered smoothly, lifting his goblet in a mock toast. "To a wedding, then."

And thus the deed was done; Olenna Tyrell went with her whole retinue in King's Landing to lure the little wolf pup closer to her side, with dreams of willow blossoms and marriage - And as a gift, a hairnet adorned with lovely crystals, so that she would shine with joy, knowing she was one step closer to escaping the lions, and one step closer to becoming a flower in the Highgarden.

Whilst Oberyn and Ellaria enjoyed the brothel, Y/N joined her family - Of course, Margaery was as lovely as ever, and her mother as ruthless as always. Sansa even joined them on occasion, indulging in her favourite lemon cakes.

Yet not all his pleasure and glee in the pleasure house, as the Rains of Castamere was sung by some poor Lannister bastard, who dared interrupt the Dornishman's good time; Before long, the whores had left, and the fool had a dagger shoved through his hand, binding him to the table - And the only thing saving him was not his companion, but the arrival of the Imp, who remained speechless as his intensity... And his pure hatred for the Lannisters.

Martell took the Imp aside for a little walk, just the two of them, for a conversation with little to hide - A conversation that would terrify the little golden lion. "What are you doing in King's Landing, my Prince?"

"I was invited to the Wedding." he smiled simply. "My wife's niece is the bride - I wouldn't be a good husband if I did not join the retinue, would I?"

"I thought we were speaking truth." Tyrion spoke solemnly.

"The last time I was in the capital was many, many years ago, for another Wedding - My sister, Elia, married Rhaegar Targaryen, the last Dragon. My sister loved him, bore his children in her womb; Took care of them, waddled them, fed them at her breast - Didn't even allow the wet nurse to touch them." he continued, fidgeting a little. "My sweet wife was there by her side day and night, helping her." his smile was wide, filled with resentment. "And beautiful, noble Rhaegar Targaryen left her for another woman." he went on. "That started a war - And the war ended right here, when your father's army took the city."

"I wasn't there." Tyrion looked down, feeling guilt, in spite of him having no part played in the massacre.

"They butchered her children. My nephew and niece, carved them up and wrapped them in Lannister cloaks. And my sister - You know what they did to her?" he picked the imp's chin, raising it up to look him in the eyes. "I am asking you a question."

"I have heard rumours." Tyrion gulped, his heart pounding hard against his chest.

Oberyn's laugh was mirthless. "Yes, so have I." he said. "The one I keep hearing is Gregor Clegane, the Mountain, raped Elia and split her in two with his greatsword." Tyrion tried one more time to say he wasn't there, he had nothing to do with it - It was in vain. "But if the Mountain killed my sister, it was by your father's orders." his voice dropped a little in a humourless tone. "Tell your father I'm here. Tell him the Lannisters aren't the only ones who pay their debts." he let out a small huff. "Cheer up, little man - My wife would be thrilled to see how much you have grown since last she saw you -- Perhaps you should ask your dear brother and sister; They are sure to know what I am talking about."

Thus she returned to the brothel to retrieve his paramour and left to explore more of the city - Yet back to their room, there was no sight of Y/N; Surely, she must still be with her family, he thought - Or worse, she caught sight of that foolish Lion. What a pity, he thought to himself, however inevitable that conversation would be. Fifteen years or so passed since that day when Jaime Lannister drove his blade through King Aerys' body and rescued Y/N from being burnt alive - For that, Oberyn was thankful, yet for everything else, he was not.

"You're a Queen, not an ox." Olenna huffed, looking away from those ugly necklaces displayed nobly over the red velvet cushions, before she grasped one of them. "Your grandfather gifted me a necklace quite like this, at my one-and-fifty name day." she threw it off the balcony, grinning.

"My father never did have a good sense of fashion." Y/N giggled at her mother.

"My wedding is in a fortnight, grandmother, we cannot turn everything away." Margaery scolded her picky grandma, who simply smiled.

"Of course I can - And I will." she said sternly, before addressing the ladies in waiting. "My dears, go to the royal jewellers all over the capital - Tell them who you are, tell them who sent you - The one who brings me the best necklace will receive the second best." the girls grinned happily, before skipping away with excitement.

Y/N smiled sweetly, before receiving something from inside her sleeve. "Can I receive the best, if she likes this?" Margy gravitated to her aunty, her eyes wide and sparkling beautifully.

"It is gorgeous!" Margaery smiled brightly.

Y/N placed the necklace over the girl's cleavage. "And it also suits you - Do you agree, mother?"

"Takes a flower to know a flower." Olenna laughed, sitting back on her chair. "Yes, that's the one, I agree. Enjoy your gift, Y/N."

"I suppose I do not have to rely on Joffrey to place a string of dead sparrow heads around my neck." the young girl joked, making both her auntie and grandma scold her for speaking reckless.

Out of nowhere, a very tall and strong woman appeared, speaking very politely and diplomatic, introducing herself as Brienne of Tarth - She used to be Renly Baratheon's protector, that much Y/N heard from Loras, though she did not know that she beat Loras in jousting - That was a woman! Y/N giggled to herself, thinking about a young Brienne beating Jaime up. That would have been cute to see.

Margy delicately took her auntie's hand to follow her into the gardens, to hear what the blonde lady has to say about the night of Renly's assassination; The shadow of Stannis Baratheon killed him, she said - And though it sounded beyond fantastic, Oberyn told Y/N about the stories of the water witches Princess Nymeria brought to Dorne, and she knew of the blood mages of old Valyria - There was nothing to say such forbidden magic couldn't persist to these days.

"Auntie - Lady Brienne here bravely sought Ser Jaime Lannister to safety, after his imprisonment by the Starks." so that was why Margaery wanted her along. "Perhaps you might with to speak." she smiled sweetly, before returning to her grandmother.

"Is that so?" Y/N asked with a passive smile. "Hard to believe the proud lion would be needing aid. What happened?"

"My Lady, I..." Brienne looked down for a second, gathering her words. "Ser Jaime saved me when we were captured - He lied to preserve my maidenhead, though I could not save him from the cruel fate of having his hand chopped off." Y/N's eyes widened with shock, her hands flying to her mouth in disbelief. "Afterward, the lord of the castle we were brought to allowed Ser Jaime safe passage to King's Landing, but threw me in a bear pit with only a wooden sword and a dress. He jumped in the pit and fought the bear, yelling at the people to kill the bear, while he helped me get out of the pit." she placed her hand over her heart. "In spite of his reputation as a Kingslayer, his actions are honorable and righteous as that of a true knight."

"Thank you for saving him, Lady Brienne. For that, you have my eternal gratitude and thanks." spectacularly, Y/N embraced the tall lady, who was frozen in shock. "I do not want to imagine him dying." she said. "Though I cannot believe his heart has healed - May you take me to him?"

Brienne looked down at the smaller lady - She wondered what kind of delicate connection the two of them had - Still, she could not refuse her. "Of course, my lady. Right away."

Jaime sat in the dim candlelight of his chambers, his body draped lazily over a cushioned chair, though there was no comfort in his posture. His golden hair was unkempt, his features sharper, wearier, even after bathing thoroughly a few times since he's arrived. He idly flexed the fingers of his remaining hand, but it was the stump at his side that truly defined him now - The empty spot where once was his sword-hand.

From the corner of his eyes, he noticed a shadow passing the threshold, along with the soft squeak of the door. He lifted his head, expecting another visitor to come gawk at him. Instead, he saw the sweetest dream he's ever had, right before his very eyes - The one woman he never thought he would see again in this life.

"Y/N." he breathed, almost disbelieving. Was he dead, and dreaming? Was he in a reverie? He did not take Milk of the poppy, nor was he drunk... So why...? How was it possible?

She stepped closer, the warm glow of the candles illuminating her features. She was older now, more refined, yet still radiant in a way that made his chest ache. The woman that was so close to being his wife; The woman to whom he turned his back.

"Jaime." she whispered back, and in that moment, they were children again, playing in the gardens of Casterly Rock, before the world had turned cruel.

For a long moment, neither spoke. He drank in the sight of her, the softness of her gaze, the gentle concern that had never faded. She was the same as ages ago.

"I heard what happened to you." Y/N finally said, stepping closer. "Brienne told me everything."

Jaime chuckled, low and bitter. "I imagine she made me sound more noble than I deserve." he gestured at his missing hand. "I am not the gallant and righteous knight that you used to know, you see." he huffed. "Do you pity me?"

"No." she said firmly, stepping closer to him, close enough that he could see the way her lips trembled, the way her hands fidgeted as if she wished to reach out but did not want to overstep. "I only regret that I wasn’t there to save you."

"What could you have done?" Jaime asked, voice hoarse. "You weren't saving me from Father's scoldings; Those men were savages, traitors." he looked down at the ground. "If you were there... I would not have been able to save you."

"I could have at least held your other hand." she murmured.

Jaime inhaled sharply, looking away. She had always been like this — So effortlessly kind, so willing to love... And he… had been too blind to cherish it when he had the chance. There she was, standing ing in front of him, as bright and beautiful as the Maiden, and as loving and warm as the Mother... The one to whom he was truly bound by soul...

Yet there he was, bound and broken, shackled by the mistake he did ages ago, when he chose blood ties over his ration and heart. He allowed himself to be manipulated by dreams of honey and gold, when the true reverie was right under his eyes.

A fool, he has been... But now, returned to his home... He has seen what Cersei truly was; Bedding other men, snarking him, snubbing him, blaming him for not having escaped soon enough... Guilting him for leaving her alone, as if he was faring any better; As if he wanted to be taken prisoner by the Stark boy.

As if unworthy, Jaime raised his gaze, his sad eyes looking the lady up and down; She was wearing rich Dornish silks of the highest quality, and was adorned with jewels of which even he has not seen before. It did not take an intellectual to know the truth; She was happy. "Dorne treats you well, I see?" he asked after a moment, forcing himself to ask the question that had burned in him since the moment he saw her again. He couldn't speak his name - He wouldn't - But she knew regardless.

Y/N smiled, the kind of smile that did not need words to affirm its truth. "Yes. He treats me very well."

Jaime swallowed thickly. He had always known he was too selfish to truly wish her happiness without him, but looking at her now, seeing the peace in her eyes, the way her body held no tension, no uncertainty — He knew Oberyn had given her something he never could. The last time he remembers seeing her was that day, when the Mad king wanted to burn her alive - The fear in her eyes was no more, nor the tears wetting her beautiful face. The reign of terror was over.

"Then I am glad." he said, voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N reached out then, the hesitation gone, and took his remaining hand in hers. "But you, Jaime? How are you?" she asked. "You have been through so many hardships - Yet finally you have prevailed and returned home." a question so simple, yet it unraveled him.

"I don’t know..." he admitted tragically.

She squeezed his hand gently. "You are still you, Jaime. Even without a sword in your hand, you are still a knight. You are still worthy of being called one."

He laughed, hollow and broken. "Do you really believe that?"

"I have always believed in you." she said softly. "Even when you did not believe in yourself." she smiled up at him. "Even when you were Ser Jaime the Cat Knight."

"That cat must still be laughing at us." Jaime shut his eyes, breathing through the ache in his chest. He wanted to turn back time, to make different choices, to never let go of her hand. But time had marched forward, and now she belonged to another, and he — He belonged to no one.

"If I could do it all again..." he murmured. "I wouldn’t hesitate."

"You forget yourself, Jaime. You did not hesitate." Y/N smiled, sad and knowing. "You did not hesitate to choose Cersei over me." the man gulped with guilt - Of course she knew, there was no need for words or explanations. Y/N knew the two of them better than they knew themselves.

"Since when...?" he found himself asking in such a meek and mousy voice.

"Since your Lady Mother moved your bedchambers across mine own." the lady let out a sardonic chuckle. "The two of you have never been known for your subtlety, mind you. People just chose to turn a blind eye to your... Misbehaviour. Deeming it a twin thing. But I knew better." she said, her voice throwing daggers at the man's heart. "I have known since then that you were a lost cause for me, and that you would fall prey to your sister's lies."

"Why did you not warn me?" he found himself asking, bewildered, yet not surprised.

"Would you have believed me, over your own sister?" Jaime nodded to himself - She was right, and he replied with a negative answer. "Thought so."

A silence stretched between them, filled with everything they had left unsaid. "There is no point for regrets anymore. We cannot go back, Jaime. We can only go forward."

Finally, Jaime spoke, his voice as fragile as the moment between them. "You are right." as always.

"Jaime - What ever happened to our bunnies?" Y/N asked, all of a sudden. "I never did get to ask you, did I?"

"No... I guess you didn't." Jaime said with a sad smile. "Cersei got angry the day she heard she won't be marrying Rhaegar Targaryen, and she hugged the rabbit so hard she killed it." of course she would do that. "She got even angrier, and she went to Tyrion, killed the rabbit in front of him, then forced the cooks to make it into a meal and feed it to him." Y/N covered her mouth in shock. "As for ours... I knew Cersei would end up hurting them... So I went into the forest one night and let them go. I do not know if they got attacked by predators, or survived... But at least they survived her." what a very sad fate for them.

"Well... Can't say I am surprised." Y/N sighed pitifully. "Sorry that I asked. I soured the mood." she said, fixing her hair. "On another note - Tell me... Is there anything that you learnt from this... Journey of yours?" Y/N asked, letting go of his hand and stepping away. "Anyone that... Taught you something meaningful?" she continued.

"What are you talking about?" the man asked with confusion.

"What do you see when you look at Brienne?" his eyes narrowed, along with his furrowed brows - He could not make the meaning of the question. "Do you know what I see in Brienne?"

"What does Brienne have to do with anything?" The lion was evidently confused.

"Everything." came the solemn answer.

"What are you talking about?"

"Does she not remind you of yourself?" Y/N ask, receiving silence.

"I am not that ugly." Y/N shot him a warning look, making him apologise. "Apart from being tall, strong and blond, I can't really see what similarities we share. Do enlighten me, O, wise one."

"Snark me like that again, and I am leaving." he remained silent. "Although your sarcasm proves me that you do, in fact, admire Brienne for what she is - And for what you were incapable of doing." she let out a dry laugh. "She did what you could not - She kept her righteous heart and kindness. You became blinded by renown and power." she spoke bitterly. "Do you even remember why you killed the Mad King? Do you remember why you so readily accepted that God-awful nickname of yours?"

"Well, if I remember correctly, he was ripping away at that pretty dress of yours, and wanted to fuck you in front of me before he would burn you alive with wildfire. Am I misremembering something?" snarky as always, and with all the bitterness. "I did not even get a thank you, if I remember well enough."

"Forgive me for crying so much that I forgot to voice my gratitude." Y/N rolled her eyes. "I was trying to remind you that you used to be selfless. You used to be the man who wanted to protect the weak; Who wanted to be the champion of justice and all those who could not protect themselves. Like Arthur Dayne and Barristan Selmy."

"Yes, well - Arthur Dayne is dead, Barristan Selmy was dismissed from his post, and I am a cripple. Between the three of us, I wonder what legacy will we bear." Y/N groaned in annoyance.

"Legacy? What are you, your father? Since when did you care about legacy? Since when did you discard everything that you ever stood for? You used to have honour, justice, righteousness." Y/N shook her head. "Do you think I fell for you because you had pretty gold hair, and gorgeous green eyes, and had a rich family?" she went on. "I fell in love with you because you were hard-working and diligent, because you always wanted to do what's right, and wanted to protect those who could not protect themselves." she let out a ragged breath, her voice breaking a little. "What happened to my sweet Jaime?"

"He died, along with the Mad King." when he got the nickname of Kingslayer, and had his reputation tarnished.

"No." Y/N said sternly, surprising him. "My Jaime died when he fell prey to his sister's manipulating lies, and forgot how to think for himself. The Jaime in front of me is nothing more than Cersei's puppet that she liked to sleep with - But no more. You're not as dashing as you used to be, without one hand and the long hair." with his answer being a contemplative silence, Y/N stepped towards the door to leave.

"Y/N." he called out. "Can you promise me something?" she hummed in agreement. "No matter which way life takes us, what roads the two of us take - No matter what - Please... Y/N... Promise me you will seek your happiness above all else."

Y/N stood there in the door, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall. She had to return to Oberyn and Ellaria as fast as humanly possible - Being in the same room as Jaime brought her nothing but misery... A bittersweet misery which she could not escape.

"I promise." she mumbled under her breath, before escaping back to her chambers, into a land of love and warmth where problems existed no more.

A fortnight passed, and the wedding ceremonies were in bloom; Everyone was having fun - Except, of course, the Mad boy who thought himself a King. Y/N was content staying with her husband and his paramour, feasting at a table, somewhere away from the main events - Yet even still, as she kept squeezing Ryn's hand, she saw her mother caressing Sansa's sweet face, fixing the hairnet and stealing the mischievous crystal.

But the King grew bored, and he invited a most vulgar dwarf show, depicting his enemies fighting each other... With awful words and an even more dishonorable showcase of humiliation, which left everyone watching uncomfortable... Except for the Queen Regent, of course. Poor Sansa was fighting between being numb, and bursting into tears; First she watched her father beheaded, she was abused by her supposed betrothed, and then her brother and mother, at a wedding no less...

And to make matters worse, the first time Y/N saw Tyrion, after so long, was him being metaphorically pissed on by his own brat of a nephew - Though Y/N was almost sure Joffrey wouldn't have shied away from actually pissing on his uncle if it weren't for Tywin.

Y/N squeezed Oberyn's and Ellaria's hands tightly, watching with hawk eyes as Joffrey handed Margaery his goblet - And when she placed it on the table, she added the crystal Lady Olenna handed to her prior, when fixing her dress.

The dove cake was cut, Margaery fed him a bite or two, and then the King forced his uncle to fetch him the goblet again; One big gulp, and another, and another - Until he started choking and raking his nails at his own throat until there was skin and flesh no more; Vomit was spewing from his mouth, his eyes were red, and blood was spilling from his nose and ears; His body was trembling and spazzing involuntarily, and his shrieks were sweet lullabies to all those he had wronged.

One scheme, three people, and an unfortunate innocent to be the scapegoat. Y/N had not wished Tyrion to be blamed for this ploy, they had not anticipated Cersei's and Joffrey's sheer cruelty - Alas, the poor imp was imprisoned and trialed for his crimes.

At least Margaery was safe, and with that Oberyn also was asked to join the Small Council by none other than the Lannister Lord himself - In the brothel, no less. What a very amusing turn of events.

Tyrion was imprisoned, yet his brother did not hesitate to go talk to him; He was innocent, he knew, and yet... What could Jaime do to save him? Nothing, he realised - Alas. One thing he could, however, was to save his squire, Podrik, by sending him along with Brienne... Brienne...

Y/N had been right. Brienne was just like him, in the past, and now, with Oathkeeper in her hands, she could do what he never could - Keep her oaths, protect those in need.

Bring Sansa Stark home.

In that tainted and rotten heart of his, there was still a spark of light, and even though Catelyn Stark was dead, he had sworn to her to bring her daughter back into her arms. Jaime Lannister might be incapable of such a feat - Yet Brienne of Tarth could do anything she ever dreamt of, and more.

In the gardens, Oberyn and Y/N were writing poems for his daughters back in Sunspear - And the lioness appeared to disturb their peace. Oh, for Y/N to meet Cersei like this, after so many long years, it was unpleasant. To go from 'Cersei' to 'Your Grace' with a bow - She was sure she enjoyed it very much. Or ordering them for a walk, without the capacity to refuse.

"I did not take you for a poet." Cersei started the conversation, stealing one glance at the way Y/N and Oberyn were holding hands, and her jaw clenched in anger.

"Not a very good one, I am afraid. Y/N here has the romantic heart for it." he kissed her hand sweetly.

"I did not think you would be sharing paramours." the lioness japed.

"It is for one of my daughters." he replied.

"You have several, don't you?" Cersei pointed out.

"Eight." Ryn stated proudly.

"Eight?!" Cersei looked at him. "Eight daughters?" she repeated. "Would any of them call me 'auntie'?" she looked at Y/N, who seemed uncomfortable by the question, and avoided her gaze. "Or, perhaps a son?"

"We might not have children together by blood, Y/N loves my children as though they were her own." the Dornishman spoke up immediately.

"Pity. I suppose the prophecy came true for some." Y/N couldn't help but let out a sarcastic laugh.

"It did not miss you either, I am afraid." the flower smirked antagonistic at the Queen regent. "Though I believe you are less happy with the outcome, all things considered."

Cersei glared at the girl - Dorne ruined her - She used to be so mellow and sweet; Now she dares speak back to her. Blasphemy. "What is she like? Your daughter, I mean."

"She is my fifth daughter - And the most stubborn. I named her Elia, after my sister." he began.

"Beautiful name." a lie. Cersei hated Elia Martell more than any woman alive. She stole Y/N from her. She stole Rhaegar from her. She stole every thing, including her happiness.

"Yes, it is - Though I am saddened every time I speak it - And then, I grow angry." Cersei remained unmoved.

"Perhaps that is why she is difficult. Gods love their jokes, don't they?" jokes? Oberyn asked. "You are a Prince of Dorne, a legendary fighter, a brilliant, feared man throughout Westeros - Yet you could not save your sister." she said. "I am a Lannister, Queen for 19 years, daughter of the most powerful man in the kingdom, and yet I could not save my son." she went on. "And you... You belong to the second most powerful House, on which we now depend dearly; You had my father's admiration and my brother to wed, you befriended the Crown Princess and ended up happily marrying her sister..." she smiled bitterly. "But no matter how hard you tried, you could not hold onto anything that you held dear and it all slipped through your fingers."

"Might be so, but I live a happy and worryless life now. I would say it all worked for the best for me." Y/N shrugged lightly.

"Tell me, sister - What is the use of power, if you cannot protect those you love?" Cersei asked.

"You can avenge them." Cersei agreed.

"Do you really believe Tyrion killed your son?" Y/N found herself asking.

"I know he did." Cersei spoke with certainty - It took everything from Y/N not to sigh.

"He will have a trial, and we will find out the truth." Oberyn spoke simply.

"We will have a trial, yes..." Cersei then trailed on, tearfully speaking of how much she missed her daughter - Not that Y/N would understand, of course, she said. Still, they promised to deliver her the name's day gift and remind Myrcella of her mother's affections. Myrcella was happy.

Oberyn was now part of the Small Council, and heard plenty about the Targaryen girl in Mereen, winning and conquering far and wide; It gave the Viper quite the funny idea - Get the Targaryens back on the throne, to get rid of the Lannisters. Funny thought indeed. Rhaegar Targaryen abandoned his sister - Tywin Lannister killed his sister and his niece and nephew. Lesser of two evil? Who knows. In spite of this, Dorne still loathed the Dragons.

The trial was every bit as Y/N expected - Unfair, just like the whole country. She never expected Tywin to hate his own son so much that he would have him killed - Was it because he was a disgrace? An imp? Or because birthing him, his beloved Joanna died?

So many people testified against Tyrion, making his sound like such a horrifying monster... And yet Y/N saw the same squalling baby in the crib... The baby that Cersei was torturing in front of her and Oberyn.

And Jaime wasn't doing anything to save his little brother - Except, he went to beg his father for mercy, at the cost of his White Cloak; He promised he will accept the seat at the Rock, and find a suitable wife to marry and make heirs together -- Only if Tyrion lives.

The thought of marrying a woman that wasn't Y/N hurt his heart dearly - But... He knew Y/N would want Tyrion alive... And he would have been, were it not for the whore who betrayed him, who lied about him so ruthlessly... Who broke his heart, the same way he loved Tysha... And because of their father, his heart broke forever.

"Father... I wish to confess..." Tyrion sneered between his teeth, before turning to all the people watching the trial. "I saved you. I saved this city and all of your worthless lives. I should have let Stannis kill you all." the words of a very hurt man.

"Tyrion - Do you wish to confess?"

"Yes, father. I am guilty." he spoke with snark and defiance. "Guilty - Is that what you want to hear?"

"You admit you poisoned the King?" Tywin spoke, perched up on the Iron Throne.

"No. Of that, I am innocent. Tyrion said. "I am guilty of a far more montrous crime." he hissed. "I am guilty of being a dwarf."

"You are not on trial for being a dwarf." Tywin spoke, but he was easily cut off.

"Oh, but yes, I am. I've been on trial for that my entire life!" he exclaimed pitifully.

"Have you nothing to say in your defense?" Y/N shed a tear, seeing the little Lannister being so hated. He didn't deserve all this madness.

"Nothing but this - I did not do it. I did NOT kill Joffrey, but I WISH that I had." merciless trial. "Watching your vicious bastard die gave me more relief than a THOUSAND lying whores!" Y/N had her hand over her heart, and searched for the crowd - Her eyes met with Jaime, and in that instant, they both knew - The little Lannister was doomed to death since the day he was born. "I wish I was the monster you think I am! I wish I had enough poison for the whole pack of you! I would GLADLY give my life to watch you all swallow it." he turned to his father. "I would NOT give my life for Joffrey's murder; And I know I'll never get my justice here - That's why I'll let the Gods decide my fate."

I DEMAND A TRIAL BY COMBAT.

Y/N fell into her seat, whilst Oberyn straightened up; Jaime gulped with fear, whilst Cersei gritted her teeth in anger, and Tywin clenched his fists.

The youngest Lannister was brought back to his cell, and his brother followed with one last sibling chat. The only friend he's ever had... The strongest knight in the Kingdom, yet he couldn't even fight for his brother's honour... Couldn't even defeat a stable boy, without his precious right hand.

Bronn, his sellsword, the man who fought for him once, also did not accept to fight for him - After all, who in their right mind would fight the Mountain, of all people - And Tyrion could not blame him for that.

He was all alone.

Except...

Much to his surprise, two people entered his dimly lit jail - The man he knew as Oberyn Martell, and his wife, Y/N Tyrell, of whom he knew little, except for what he heart from his brother and sister. Even now, she was as gorgeous as a flower - Or so Jaime used to describe her.

"I thought you'd be back at the brothel by this hour." Tyrion spoke softly.

"I did spend all yesterday with a stunning blonde." Oberyn said, placing his torch on the wall. Tyrion watched as he gallantly took a chair and placed his coat on it, so his wife would not dirty her dress sitting down. "Cersei approached me - We talked a lot about her daughter, how worried your sister is about her. She was trying very hard to hide she was trying to sway me away from you - I think she may have even believed it herself."

"But, well - Cersei has never been that good of a liar. Most people aren't Jaime, you see. I think you, of all people, would know that much." Y/N smiled enigmatically.

"It is very rare to meet a Lannister who shares MY enthusiasm for dead Lannisters." Oberyn exclaimed with mock joy. "She desperately wants to see you killed."

"She didn't need to bother you. It looks as though I have taken care of that myself." he sighed. "The joy she will feel when my head leaves my neck. She's wanted it for a long time."

"Yes, I know." Tyrion was confused. "We met, you and I. Many years ago."

"I think I would have remembered that." Tyrion looked suspicious.

"I don't believe you would, little one. You had only just been born." Y/N smiled sweetly. "You do not remember even me, who took care of you until the moment I left for King's Landing." he was even more confused.

"My mother, the Princess of Dorne, took me and my sister Elia on a visit to Casterly Rock - You see, our mothers were good friends, and talks of marriage were in place. Me, to marry Cersei, they said. Of course, your father would hear none of it - Thank goodness for his arrogant pride." Oberyn let out a dry chuckle. "I did not like anything about the Rock. Not the food, not the weather or your accent - Nothing. But the biggest disappointment - You."

"You and my family might have more in common than you think." Tyrion hissed pitifully.

"That is not true." Y/N said. "Everyone, everywhere, talked only about the little Lannister monster - A head twice the size of his body, a tail between his legs, claws, one red eye, the privates of both a girl and a boy."

"That would have made things so much easier." Tyrion sighed.

"When I met your sister, she promised to look us - Dragged Elia and I all the way to your nursery and she unveiled the monster." Ryn recalled dramatically. "Yes, your head was a bit large, your arms and legs a little small; But no claw, no red eyes, no tail between the legs - Just a tiny pink cock." he said. "We couldn't hide our disappointment. That's not a monster, I told Cersei. It's just a babe, Elia told her." he went on. "And she said - He killed my mother. And she pinched your little cock so hard I thought she might pull it off. Until Y/N and your brother tried to stop her." he continued the story. "It does not matter, she said. Everyone says he will die soon; I hope they are right. He should have died long ago."

"Well." Tyrion bit back a sniffle. "Sooner or later, Cersei will get what she wanted. She always gets what she wants."

"Does she?" Y/N chuckled. "She wanted to marry Rhaegar Targaryen. She wanted to marry the man she fell in love with, and have children with him. That woman only ever loved one man, and that is Rhaegar, not Jaime. All the love she bears is for herself." she said, tilting her head.

"Tell me, little man, what ever happened to that fluffy little thing nestled to you in the crib?" Tyrion frowned a little. "This beautiful lady here, before you were born, found a bunch of rabbits. One for each, and one for you - Or so she says. I always did wonder what happened to those rabbits."

"Stew." Tyrion shrugged. "Jaime used to play with me, with the rabbits. Once he left for training, the nursemaid had to take care of all four of them. It was only me, and four rabbits. Cersei was in King's Landing too... And Y/N, I do not remember you. Forgive me." he said. "I know... Cersei's rabbit died first. Some disease, the Maester said... And then she killed the rabbit and made the cooks make it into a stew, to feed me. I remember she specifically said it was my fault the rabbit died - Just like how I killed our mother." he sighed, looking down. "Jaime said his and Y/N's ran away into the garden, to live happily ever after among the flowers... My guess is, they also became porridge. Who knows."

"Cersei has always been vengeful." Y/N nodded her head. "Truth is, since the day Oberyn and Elia came into the Rock, she has hated them like nothing else." she smiled bitterly. "All because I was getting along with them so well." she said. "Dornish whore, she called Elia. O, how I wanted to wring her neck as she stood. Cersei wishes she was even a fraction and kind and gentle as Elia was."

"You see, little man - Cersei may get what she wants - But what about what I want?" Oberyn spoke, looking at the prisoner. "I married Y/N so I can save her from the Lannisters. To keep her safe from this, when your own brother abandoned her." he leaned forwards. "But there is still one thing that I demand. Justice for my sister and her children."

"If you want justice you've come to the wrong place." Tyrion laughed mirthlessly.

"You are wrong, Tyrion. The Mountain killed Elia Martell and her children, Princess Rhaenys and Prince Aegon - At your father's orders. We want revenge for all the evil that has been done." Y/N said with power in her voice. "Elia was not my sister by blood, but I loved her like mine own. I took care of her each day, in this god-forsaken citadel of death - Only for her to be slaughtered by a monster who calls himself a knight. I will not have that be the last memory of her."

"I want bring those who have wronged me to justice - And all those who have wronged me are right here." Tyrion looked at him with awe and wonder. "I will begin with Ser Gregor Clegane who killed my sister's children, and then raped her with their blood still on his hands, before killing her too." Tyrion shed a tear when hearing him speak. "I will be your champion." his saviour.

"Do not worry, little cub. Oberyn is the Red Viper of Dorne. Not even the Mountain can stand in his way." Y/N smiled, bending to ruffle the messy and dirty golden hair on Tyrion's head, before holding Oberyn's hand to leave to their chamber.

"You tell him that, yet you worry more than anyone I have ever known in my entire life." Ryn chuckled carefree.

"Of course I worry - That man is a monster, that a human." Y/N grumbled, squeezing his hand lovingly. "And I did tell you that blasted prophecy." she looked down, biting her lip. "Do not allow it to happen. I do not wish to be a widow. I do not wish to part from you."

"Why? The prophecy said you will marry Jaime Lannister after me. Is that so bad a fate?" he japed lightly, getting slapped on the arm by his wife. Her reaction earned a heartfelt laugh, and a sweet kiss. "Worry not, my sweetling; We both know not even that monster can kill me."

"Unless you let it get to your head."

Ellaria and Y/N both were kissing and embracing their beloved Oberyn, encouraging him for his fight, whilst reminding him to be careful, to not get arrogant and all that. With such little armor, he had to be lithe.

"Don't leave me alone in this world." the ladies both said.

"Never." he replied, before going to show off with his spear.

Alas, those were the confident words of a dead man who got his revenge after his death; The poison of his lance offered the Mountain a most torturous death... Yet nothing could save Oberyn from having his head smashed in, as the monster pushed his thumbs through his eyes.

Poor Ellaria was shrieked her lungs out in horror - Y/N, however, collapsed to the ground. The prophecy had turned true, and with that, so did her sweet dream of summer.

Oberyn Martell, the Red Viper of Dorne, was dead.

When Y/N was brought to her room, or how did she get there, she did not know; All she knew was that the first thing she woke up to were the green eyes of Jaime Lannister, looking down at her with worry. No one else was there - No doubt, celebrating Oberyn's death, along with Tyrion's death sentence.

"... Why are you here?" Y/N whispered, her voice saddened, and growing sadder. "Shouldn't you be trying to help your brother escape the city?"

"Already done that." he assured. "Varys will get him out of King's Landing." he said, his hand placed gently over her cheek. "Enough about that - You just lost your husband tragically. My brother's well being is the last thing on your mind."

"Do you think they will allow me to go back to Highgarden?" Y/N asked powerlessly. "I'm sure they will. But a widow, at my age? How pitiful. It was not even a war that took him. What a shame indeed."

"I... I am sure that, should you want to return home, they will welcome you with open arms." Jaime reassured her.

"Is Cersei still alive?" the question confused the man.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Did she never tell you about our little secret escapade?" Y/N giggled sadly. "Our meeting with Maggy the Frog, and the prophecy she gave us?"

"I have no idea what you are talking about." he admitted, furrowing his brothers.

"During the time of Prince Viserys' birth celebration tourney, Cersei took me to the witch's tent. She answered us three questions, you see." she smiled, looking away. "Cersei's was that she would marry a King, not a Prince. That she would have three children, shrouded in gold, while the King will have sixteen." Jaime looked at her with shock - They were so young back then - How could the witch know all that? How could she predict so well? "She will become Queen, until another, more beautiful, will take her place. She will outlive her children, and then, the valonqar will strangle her to death - Or something like that." she chuckled softly. "Younger brother, it means."

"You think Tyrion would kill her?" the girl shrugged. "No, he's gone. It's okay."

"Is it?" she snorted, getting in a sitting position.

"What was yours?" he asked, surprising her with his curiosity. "What was your prophecy?"

"Hmm... How did it go now? Something like... I will marry two men - A red viper (clearly, Oberyn was that), and a golden lion, valiant and proud." she let out a sardonic chuckle. "I won't have any children because I am barren, thank the Gods for that." she went on. "And, the one I hated the most - The viper shall topple over the mountain, yet perish beneath its weight. You, who shall free the lion of its shackles, shall lead the pride."

Jaime remained silent - The thought of marrying Y/N was sweet and tempting... But surely, not at the detriment of the man she loved so much. "Y/N." he licked his lips, trying to form his words. "I know... I have wronged you. More times than I can dare count. And... I know you loved Oberyn with all your heart." he continued, awkwardly and unsure. "However... If you ever feel lonely, and you wish for a place to enjoy your days... Perhaps not as festive and easy-going as Dorne, but with all the luxury... I..." he looked down for a few seconds, before looking back at her. "I will resign from the Kingsguard on the spot and join you at Casterly Rock. No father, no Cersei, no Crown. Nothing. I won't go to war, I won't leave your side, I won't do anything stupid or reckless anymore - Not that I can at this point, anyway."

"And when the Targaryen girl comes to steal the crown from Cersei's head - What then? Will you go to save her, and leave me behind again? Will you start a war against the dragons?" but her answer was a tight hug.

"I will bow my head and bend the knee to the girl. I am tired of war. I am tired of being involved in the unjustly matters of the Crown, of my own family. I want no more part in any of it." Y/N's hand reached to caress the man's rough and scarred face.

"Can you, truly?" he nodded. "You will not desert me again?" he shook his head. "And you will love me more than you ever loved Cersei?"

"I have always love you more than I loved Cersei." Jaime admitted sincerely. "I just got caught in her lies... And in her bed. Everything she said... All her lies... I was too stupid, and I believed all of them." he muttered, kissing her forehead sweetly. "But no more of that. I cannot even stand the look of her - Not after what she did to Tyrion."

"... Alright, Jaime." she muttered, easing into his embrace. "But we are leaving the city tonight, without question."

"Anything for you, my Rose."

As promised, Jaime went to his father's tower and left the white cloak there, telling him he will become heir, and marry Y/N Tyrell; Let him believe in legacies all he wants - He is done living another man's dream - From now, he lives his own reverie.

With Tommen becoming King, and Margaery Queen, the Faith rose up, and the High Septon took over; They imprisoned Margy and Cersei - But the little rose was smart, of course, she was a Tyrell taught by the Queen of Thorns herself; Cersei, however, had the pride of a lioness, but not the smarts of it; With Tywin long dead, she was all alone in King's Landing and with no allies, save for an exiled maester, who was only able to deliver a letter to Casterly Rock - To Jaime, to come save her.

"Come at once.” she had written, in the letter he had Y/N burn in their shared chamber. “Help me. Save me. I need you now as I have never needed you before. I love you. I love you. I love you. Come at once.” Her need was real enough, Jaime did not doubt. As for the rest … She’d been fucking Lancel and Osmund Kettleblack and Moon Boy for all he knew … Even if he had gone back, he could not hope to save her. She was guilty of every treason laid against her, and he was short a sword hand, a loving heart, and good reason.

He had sworn a vow to protect his wife, and he was not going to break that one, even if the Gods will it - Especially not for his sister. He was done playing the hero - He was fine being Jaime the Cat Knight, or Jaime the Tumbler, or Jaime the Whatever-Nickname-Y/N-Came-Up-With for him; And even better, she kept her promise of coming up with a song for his greatness as the best cat-chaser to ever exist.

With no allies and no one to turn to, Cersei faced the walk of shame, but with that came revenge, in the form of wildfire, and the destruction of the Sept of Baelor, along with the young Queen and her brother, Loras Tyrell, and their father, Mace.

The news of her family dying at the hands of Cersei only fueled Y/N's need for revenge - And in turn, Highgarden rose against the Crown, and was ready to pledge their allegiance to the Dragon Queen - And so did Casterly Rock. The Queen may have her Crown, but will not have the coin, army nor support of her family.

And thus, the Dragon Queen moved to reclaim her Crown, starting a war; King’s Landing burned in the distance, a city of ashes and ghosts. The Red Keep loomed above, its once majestic silhouette tainted by the destruction Cersei had wrought. The Queen of Ashes, ruling over nothing but ruin. That is what she will always be known as.

Jaime and Y/N moved swiftly like shadows through the corridors, silent, unseen. The castle was quieter than it had ever been. The scent of fire still lingered in the air, mixed with the distant cries of the people who had lost their families..

At last, they reached Cersei’s chambers. Jaime placed a hand on the door, hesitating for the briefest moment. Y/N watched him, waiting. There was no doubt in her heart — He had already made his choice. She squeezed his arm, giving him all the courage she had.

He pushed the door open.

Cersei sat by the balcony, watching the war beneath her, with a goblet of wine in her hand, her golden hair, short and disheveled, her face pale and angered. The moment she saw them, her lips curled into something between relief and desperation. It was fake, as it has always been.

"Jaime! Y/N" she exhaled, standing quickly. "You came for me. I knew you would!" she let out a chuckle of relief. "I began to fear my letter never reached you!"

Jaime said nothing. His green eyes were unreadable, locked onto hers with an intensity that made her falter. "I threw it in the fire."

Y/N stepped forward, her own gaze burning on Cersei. "No one is coming to save you, Cersei. Not after everything you've done to us."

Cersei scoffed, though there was a tremor in her voice. "Of course you would hold a grudge like a love sick puppy getting kicked." she sneered at Y/N. "I thought you got over my brother. Shame."

Jaime exhaled sharply. "You always thought me weak over you, didn’t you? The smartest child Tywin had." sis voice was calm, but there was steel beneath it. "Well - You are not as smart as you think you are, Father was right about that."

Cersei’s gaze flickered to his, searching for the brother she once knew, the one she could twist around her little finger. But he was gone. "Jaime—"

"You were wrong to tear us apart." Cersei’s lips parted, confusion flashing across her face.

"I loved her." Jaime said, stepping closer. "I always loved her. Not you. Not the twisted thing you became. I was just too much of a blind fool to admit it."

Cersei staggered back a step. "You don’t mean that." she whispered. "You and I, we were meant to come into this world together, and we were meant to leave it together. Don’t you remember? Don’t you—"

"Valonqar." Y/N purred into Cersei's ear, placing her hands on her shoulder. Her voice was laced with amusement, her lips curling into a cruel smile.

Cersei paled. Y/N continued, tilting her head. "You always thought Tyrion would be the one to end you. But oh, sweet Cersei…" She stepped even closer. "You held Jaime's foot when you were delivered into this world, did you not?"

"No—" Jaime’s hand shot forward, wrapping around her throat.

Cersei’s eyes went wide. Her hands grasped at his wrist, but she was powerless against him. "Jaime — Please!" she gasped, her voice cracking, her nails clawing at his flesh. "We were— We are... I lov---"

His grip tightened. Tears welled in her eyes as she choked, her body convulsing, her knees buckling. Jaime leaned in close, his voice a whisper. "You destroyed everything we ever had. Everything I could have been." her lips parted, her breath shuddering, but no words came out. "I hate you, Cersei. Good riddance."

Her struggles weakened. Her fingers slipped from his wrist. Her eyes, once gorgeous, green and so full of fire, dulled. And then — Nothing.

Jaime let her lifeless body slump to the floor. For a moment, there was silence.

Y/N looked down at the corpse of the woman who had ruined and humiliated them both plenty of times. Cersei, the golden lioness of the Rock, now just another body, like all the casualties of war.

She turned to Jaime. He was staring at the lifeless form of his twin, his expression unreadable. Y/N stepped closer, reaching for him. He flinched, but she didn’t let go. Her fingers brushed against his cheek, grounding him. "She was never your sweet dream, my love." she whispered. "Only a night terror."

Jaime’s green eyes met hers, filled with something raw and aching. He exhaled, the weight of a lifetime of regret leaving his body. "Let’s go home, sweet Rose." he murmured. Y/N smiled softly. "You promised to sing to me that Ballad you wrote - About the Golden Knight and the Flower Nymph."

"Of course, my darling."

Hand in hand, they stepped over Cersei’s body and left the Red Keep for the last time. Daenerys Targaryen would get her throne, would marry the bastard of Ned Stark who turned out to be Elia Martell's son, Aegon Targaryen; And Tyrion would re-take his position as Hand of the Queen.

Y/N and Jaime would remain in Casterly Rock, where the sea met the stone, forever to enjoy each other's company, in a place where they could finally be free to live their sweet dream.

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Chapter 5 - I AM KATLOCKED

"It seems to me, Miss Black, that in spite of all our best efforts, the plan to reclaim those precious photographs has pitifully failed." Mycroft seemed to be as disturbed as it goes, in spite of his calm and stone-cold exterior. Much to his surprise, however, the woman opposite of him was painfully calm, even smiling, as she was sipping from the pretty porcelain cup, the very expensive and aromatic Gesha coffee.

"This time it feel a little floral, almost like lilac. I quite love being so pleasantly surprised." she hummed playfully, almost as though she was giving his worries no apparent regard. 

"Miss Black, I don't think now it's the time to be making jokes." he watched as the lady looked at him with a confident, vixen-like smile, her hand angling gracefully as if to dismiss his worries.

"I can assure you, those photographs have never been safer." for some reason, hearing Katrina say those words made Mycroft feel more assured, than when his semi-genius younger brother did. He couldn't explain what kind of influence this woman had over men, but a wave of relief washed over him instantaneously, yet with no rational reason.

"And how, may I ask, can you be so sure of that?" he found himself asking.

"Because Miss Irene Adler is a woman." came her surprisingly blunt answer. "Women understand women the best, you see?" she hummed softly. "And Miss Irene Adler has just committed the gravest crime one such as herself could ever commit." she placed the tea cup gently on the saucer plate. "Do you know what she did, Mycroft?"

"No, I cannot say that I do, Miss Black." he admitted - Of course, how could he know, through the secrecy of their own encounter? He might be All-Knowing, but not even he can guess what others speak.

"She exposed her greatest weakness." Kat leaned forward, whispering mysteriously to the elder Holmes brother. "She fell in love with Sherlock."

Mycroft had not anticipated such an outcome - He had genuinely thought Sherlock lost because he got intimidated by a woman's aggressive and forward sex-appeal ; In no way had he expected that the Dominatrix herself could have possibly - So swiftly, so easily, in fact --- "That affirmation is quite absurd, Miss Black, how could you possibly rationalise a person's irrational feelings? Miss Adler is a highly intelligent and manipulative woman - She wouldn't allow herself such an easily exploitable weakness to show, especially in front of her enemies --"

"That is something you and Sherlock will never understand." she smiled, proud of herself as she straightened her back and returned to sipping her coffee. "If you don't trust my feminine intuition... Then trust my emotional intelligence and empathy, at least." she continued in the same mellow voice. "Women get charmed by the weirdest things - In this case, it was not just Sherlock's pretty face, but wit and somewhat cold demeanour. She wasn't getting what she wanted - Thus, she wants to take it. She wants to claim her newest obsession, to win the game she set for herself. She wants to win." her giggle was so dark that it almost creeped the man out. "And that, Mycroft, shall be the grave she dug herself."

Christmas came by alarmingly fast, and with it, the lovely decoration hung around the apartments of 221b Baker street; Outside was snowing, inside the fireplace was crackling warm, the fairy lights were twinkling festively, and the whole place smelled like cinnamon and oranges. Sherlock, dressed in a suit, was playing a carol on the violin, Mrs. Hudson's eyes were sparkling as she joyfully listened to the beautiful melody, sitting on the armchair next to him. John was snuggled up in the mandatory ugly Christmas sweater; Katrina was worse a red form-fitting sweater-dress and antlers, drinking wine together with Lestrade and slow-dancing to the gentle tune.

The song ended, and the audience whistled, applauded and praised the detective for his remarkable song. "Lovely! Sherlock, that was lovely!" Mrs. Hudson clapped lovingly.

"Marvellous!" Watson raised his beer glass to him, as Sherlock did a playful bow of appreciation.

The old lady giggled sweetly, looking up at the detective with a slightly impish grin. She was up to no good, as always. "I wish you could have worn the antlers!"

"Some things are best left to the imagination, Mrs Hudson." the man smiled playfully.

"Wish granted, Mrs. Hudson!" Katrina chirped cutely, prancing up to Sherlock and putting a pair of antlers on his fluffy head. "Lovely, right?"

"Brilliant idea, Kat, darling - Oh, Sherlock, you look simply adorable!" she clearly was just a little bit tipsy - It was a delight to see her so gleeful and cute. Kat and Sherlock shared a look - He might not have been the greatest fan of her decision, but at least Mrs. Hudson was happy. He didn't protest too much.

John handed the elderly woman a cup of tea, taking away the alcohol. His new girlfriend came over with a tray of cookies and cakes, offering it to the two. "Thank you, Jeanette!" said Katrina, whilst Sherlock muttered "No thank you, Sarah." the woman's face fell, clearly displeased. John ran over immediately, putting his arm around her and trying to alleviate the situation - Sherlock wasn't good with names, he said, but of course, he is also not good with... People in general. And feelings. And diplomacy.

"No, no, no, I can get this." Jeanette placed down the tray, folding her arms to her chest and looking up at the detective with a murderous look. "Sarah was the doctor, and then there was the one with the spots, and then the one with the nose, and then ... Who was after the boring teacher?" oh Sherlock...

"Nobody." the woman deadpanned.

"Jeanette!" he exclaimed, proud of his sound deduction. "Process of elimination." John awkwardly took his girlfriend away from there, trying to pacify her.

At once, the door opened, and Sherlock groaned, looking away. "Oh, dear Lord." he grunted, surprising the red head as she looked at him with confusion; With a subtle tilt of his head, he motioned for her to look towards the new-comer. It was Molly Hooper, smiling timidly, wrapped in a large coat and carrying some large gift bags. Katrina looked again at Sherlock, not understanding why he was so upset to see Molly there; She gently placed her hand on his shoulder, angling her gaze to meet his. He didn't say nothing, and the eye-contact lasted for a mere few seconds, yet his hand picked her own and held it - Her hand was so small compared to his, he realised - Her fingers so slender and feminine, and her nails were long and slightly sharp - And painted a delicate shade of glittery rouge. The ring finger also had a cute reindeer painted on it, how quaint.

Kat could see how annoyed the detective was, hearing everyone saying those mandatory and highly boring 'Hello's to each other, so she pulled him further from them, to sit down. Bored, he went on John's blog, making a big fuss about the fixed counter of 1895 views; Then, he complained about the picture posted of hi with the deerstalker hat. How silly. "But you do look pretty with it." Sherlock shot her a look, before he huffed and closed the laptop lid. He was safe nowhere, damn it!

"How’s the hip?" Molly asked the old woman.

"Ooh, it’s atrocious, but thanks for asking." Kat could feel that pain very well.

"I’ve seen much worse, but then I do post-mortems." an awkward silence fell over the apartment, making Molly embarrassed. Sherlock rolled his eyes - Not even he was so awful at socialising. "Oh, God. Sorry."

"Don’t make jokes, Molly." Holmes warned her harshly.

Greg hands her a glass of red wine. "Thank you. I wasn’t expecting to see you. I thought you were gonna be in Dorset for Christmas." that's a good light-conversation! Good job, Molls!

"That’s first thing in the morning, me and my wife. We’re back together. It’s all sorted." Lestrade spoke proudly.   "No, she’s sleeping with a P.E. teacher." Kat had to harshly tug on Sherlock's sleeve to make him shut up.

Molly turned next to John who was sitting on the arm of his armchair, with Jeanette is sitting on the chair. "And John. I hear you’re off to your sister’s, is that right?" he affirmed. "Sherlock was complaining." the man in cause raised a warning, indignant eyebrow at her, making the woman correct herself. "... Saying."   "First time ever, she’s cleaned up her act. She’s off the booze." Sherlock negated that proposition. "Shut up, Sherlock!"

"I see you’ve got a new boyfriend, Molly, and you’re serious about him." finally, the detective was simply done with this pleasantry facade. He simply couldn't stand the disturbance of the otherwise jolly Christmas party. Why did she have to come and ruin everything? Things were just fine without her and her stupid jokes, and her god-awful attempts at making small talk. Why couldn't she just sit quietly in a corner and shut up? Or better - Not come at all? He hated how awkward she was, how it was always about boyfriends and love and stupid things - Doesn't she know other things exist in life also?

"Sorry, what?" the room became quiet, and Molly found herself gasping, feeling attacked, viewed under a microscope like a specimen under a bird's view eye.

"In fact, you’re seeing him this very night and giving him a gift." Sherlock got up from the chair so rapidly that he mistakenly pulled Katrina up with him also, as she tried to tug on his sleeve to make him shut up and not ruin the festive mood for everyone.

Exasperated, John groaned at his friend. "Take a day off, Sherlock."

 Lestrade, also, strode across the room and slammed a drink on the table in front of him. "Shut up and have a drink."

 "Oh, come on. Surely you’ve all seen the present at the top of the bag – Perfectly wrapped with a bow. All the others are slapdash at best." everyone was looking at the red head to do something fast, before things escalate - And with Sherlock, they always go down VERY fast.

At once, Katrina sprung towards the gifts and took out the scarf she got for Sherlock, then ran in front of him, throwing it around his neck and covering his mouth tightly. "I hope you like my gift for you, Sher. It's 100% cashmere. Very soft and comfortable, isn't it? Perfectly warm for this type of weather." she smiled innocently, almost hearing the sighs of relief from the others. "Speaking of comfortable - Mrs. Hudson, John and I had a surprise prepared for you! Come on, follow me!" and with surprising force, the red head dragged the man far away from the living-room, leaving behind a confused and awkward Molly, and a very exhausted crew.

"What, exactly, are you planning?" Sherlock asked as he finally grabbed the scarf off his face.

"Sparing everyone a very uncomfortable evening." she smiled thinly. "What were you thinking, attacking Molly like that? It's Christmas - Take a break - Keep that for the hospital when she's boring you to death." 

The childish detective clearly wasn't appreciating the scolding, as he frowned and pouted at her, shocked that she wasn't enabling his behaviour. "Oh, come on, don't be taking her side now!" he groaned in annoyance. "You saw it yourself - That gift is for someone special, why else would she doll herself up so ridiculously on a cozy Christmas party at home?" he huffed, gesticulating rapidly. "The shade of red from that bow echoes her lipstick – Either an unconscious association or one that she’s deliberately trying to encourage." Katrina had to point out that she herself is also wearing red lipstick, as not only it is a feminine colour, but a highly classic and elegant one - Irene Adler would know best. "Yes, you're wearing red because it suits you, and because it's Christmas - But red lipstick only makes her already thin lips look even weirder." he dismissed her previous claim swiftly with more hand flipping in the air. "You, as well as I, know very well that she only ever has looooove on her mind. The fact that she’s serious about him is clear from the fact she’s giving him a gift at all - Though quite peculiar she hasn't taken him with her to the party - Or perhaps she's going over at his afterwards?" his speculation only made the girl sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose exasperatedly. "She has long-term hopes, however forlorn - She’s seeing him tonight, that's evident from her make-up and what she’s wearing - Such dolling-up but with clear lack of style simply shows how she's trying to compensate for the  size of her mouth and breasts---"

"She did it for you." Sherlock's insulting rant faded off into a shocking void once he heard the girl's deadpan words. "She dressed up for you. She did her make-up for you. She wrapped the prettiest and most meaningful gift - For you." she explained, as if he was a mindless child. "No matter how many boyfriends she has - Molly Hooper's heart will always be yours, Sherlock? Why can't you understand that much?" like a guilty child, he licked his lips and looked down at his feet. "Can you please stop mocking and degrading her for having feelings for you? Least of all, on Christmas night, and in front of everyone?" he remained silent still. "What you were doing was not only atrocious, but cruel - And what did she do wrong? Being in love? Trying to impress you? Or, Heaven's forbid - Being human and having feelings?" the girl sighed pitifully, shaking her head. "Honestly..." she bit her lip. "If you don't have anything nice to say - At least try to filter out your words - Or say nothing at all. There aren't many people who care for you, as those at this party do... So don't alienate the already incredibly few people who love you unconditionally... In spite of the way you treat them."

After everything she told him, after all the scolding, Sherlock's priority was still in the wrong place - Albeit, it still made Kat smile her sweet, tender smile at him. "Do I... Treat you... Badly?" it was clear he was having difficulty voicing such words.

"No." the woman's clear answer made him feel relieved. "But if you were to treat me the way you treat Molly, I would suffer a lot." his brief second of relief dissipated. "I would not be so forgiving. I would cut all connections with you and resent you forever. I am not as nice as you think I am - Nor am I a pushover." his heart sunk, and the air was punched out of his lungs. "This is not only advice, but a warning also - Be very careful how you treat people."

"I... I am sorry. Forgive me." he gulped, admitting truthfully to his faults.

"There is nothing for me to forgive, Sherlock." she spoke softly, before handing him a small gift. "Go to Molly and apologise to her. Give her this."

"But I didn't --" he read on the tag 'For Molly, from Sherlock' . "Did you---?"

"Yes. Now go apologise and let's have a good time, okay? We don't want to upset Mrs. Hudson, right?" her smile returned on her face.

"Right." Sherlock stepped in front of her, and leaning down, he planted a soft, lingering kiss on her forehead. "Thank you." he said, walking by to the living room.

Everyone remained quiet once they saw Sherlock again - But when he presented Molly her gift and wished her Merry Christmas, the jolly atmosphere returned once more - Unfortunately, not for long. 

Sherlock's phone moaned - It was the first time Katrina's heard it, but John mentioned hearing 57 such texts - Only what he witnessed, at least. That was Irene texting him, she was sure of that. With great alarm, Sherlock rushed to the mantelpiece, grabbing a small, red gift, then rushed to his room. She smiled, and made herself unseen, going to her home. She didn't need to see the contents of the gift to know Irene was playing with the man again, no doubt, sending him her precious phone. Her game, for him to guess the code - Also, her safety. She was going to fake her death, no doubt; Go into hiding, lose her pursuers as fast as possible. 

She made herself comfortable, picking up a book to read in bed, but she couldn't concentrate - She was still highly amused by Irene's childish playfulness. She took her phone and texted Mycroft - 'She's alive' - Was all she wrote.

Later that evening, the Holmes brothers went to the morgue, accompanied by an unfortunate Molly, having changed from her party dress into a pair of comfortable trousers and a Christmas jumper; She looked much more natural and cozy that way, but even so, Sherlock wasn't paying attention to her - He had eyes only for the female cadaver laying down on the table. Her face was all bashed up, but her body was enough for the detective to recognise her.

"That's her, isn't it?" Mycroft asked his brother. 

"That's her." his voice was empty, monotone. He turned around to leave the room, as Mycroft thanked Molly for her assistance.

"Who is she? How did Sherlock recognise her from... Not her face?" silly dumb girl, asking so many questions. The elder Holmes brother simply smiled politely, before following the younger into the corridor. 

Mycroft offered his brother a cigarette - Low tar, he shouldn't mourn someone he knew for so little. "Merry Christmas." he joked.

Sherlock takes the cigarette and Mycroft digs into his coat pocket to find a lighter. "Smoking indoors – Isn’t there one of those... One of those law things?" regardless, Mycroft lights the cigarette for him.

"We’re in a morgue. There’s only so much damage you can do." he watched his brother inhaling deeply, before blowing the smoke out, grieving. "How did you know she was dead?" Katrina and Sherlock came to different conclusions, when they only had the phone as a clue; Could it be that his brother was in the wrong, for once? Was he being played by a powerful woman? Still, the body spoke to him. Sherlock knew Irene Adler was dead. He saw her dead body with his own eyes.

"She had an item in her possession, one she said her life depended on. She chose to give it up." she gave up the photographs, then?

"Where is this item now?" but his brother didn't answer. Instead, Sherlock looked round at the sound of sobbing. A family of three people was sobbing loudly, cuddled together, grieving the death of someone. Mycroft followed his suit to look at them.

"Look at them. They all care so much. Do you ever wonder if there’s something wrong with us?" Sherlock found himself asking such a silly question - Did it stem from Katrina's words earlier? Or from feeling so alienated from everyone else?

"All lives end. All hearts are broken." he turned his gaze towards his younger brother. "Caring is not an advantage, Sherlock."

"Tell that to Kat." he huffed, grimacing at the cigarette taste. Weak and disgusting.

"Miss Black has something that neither of us will ever be able to comprehend." the man nodded his head. "But don't assume she knows no heart ache or grief."

Almost indignant, Sherlock looked at his brother before striding down the corridor, flicking the ash onto the ground. "Merry Christmas, Mycroft." "And a Happy New Year." he answered, before calling John on his phone to alert him of a potentially danger night for the drug-addict.

For a few days onwards, Katrina could hear the violin lamentation coming from Sherlock's apartment - He was clearly mourning Irene Adler's death. How silly of him. Still, it made for a lovely recital, and she loved to read, listening to music. He became paranoid - First, using the faulty view-count on John's blog as the phone code, which was evidently wrong, then even X-raying the phone, and thinking his own address of 221B was the code. He failed again. Two more attempts left.

Then came that evening when she returned home to see the police surrounding her block, Sherlock and Lestrade chatting idly. Apparently, the guys who almost killed them at Irene's home found their way into Mrs. Hudson's apartment and tormented her. Thankfully enough, Sherlock defenestrated the leader many times, right onto her bins. That was a good revenge.

Months passed and nothing dangerous happened - Thank goodness for that. Katrina didn't want any more death encounters like before with Moriarty. She was perfectly content hanging around, doing her job and doing her hobbies as much as possible... Yet one thing she hadn't expected was to wake up with someone cuddled into her side, hugging her tightly, and two men staring down at them in shock.

Katrina woke up with Irene, wearing one of her silk nightgowns, her hair let down, cuddling her to sleep, as Sherlock and John looked at them with surprise. "I did not expect this." for once who prided herself with every step of Irene's games... She surely didn't think she would wake up to her hugging her like that.

With a vixen smirk, Irene woke up, and the four went into the living room to discuss what the hell was going on. "So you faked your own death in order to get ahead of the pursuers." Sherlock's voice was neutral and cold.

"It worked for a while." she replied playfully.

"Except you let John know that you were alive, and therefore me." Sherlock spoke.

"I knew you’d keep my secret."

"You couldn’t."

"But you did, didn’t you?" she smiled alluringly. "Where’s my camera phone?"

"It’s not here. We’re not stupid." oh, poor John, so gullible.

"Then what have you done with it? If they’ve guessed you’ve got it, they’ll be watching you." and Irene was none the wiser, it seemed.

"If they’ve been watching me, they’ll know that I took a safety deposit box at a bank on the Strand a few months ago." of course, Irene insisted that she needed that phone immediately.

"Well, we can’t just go and get it, can we?" but John had his eureka moment. "Molly Hooper. She could collect it, take it to Bart’s; then one of your homeless network could bring it here, leave it in the café, and one of the boys downstairs could bring it up the back."

Sherlock smiled sarcastically at his friend, nodding at him. "Very good, John. Excellent plan, with intelligent precautions."

"Thank you." John took his phone out, ready to call Molly.

"Except - The phone is right here." Irene's eyes went wide at Kat's words.

"Oh, for goodness' sake." John groaned in exasperation. He humiliated himself once again. "How did you know?!"

"I just guessed." that smile told him otherwise.

"So what do you keep on here – In general, I mean?"

"Pictures, information, anything I might find useful." Adler explained briefly.

"What, for blackmail?"

"For protection. I make my way in the world; I misbehave. I like to know people will be on my side exactly when I need them to be." she smiled defiantly.

"So how do you acquire this information?" Sherlock peered more, only to hear her talk about misbehaving. "You’ve acquired something that’s more danger than protection. Do you know what it is?"

"Yes, but I don’t understand it." she admitted, looking away. Sherlock urged her to show him all about it. Irene holds out her hand for the phone. Sherlock holds it up out of her reach. "The passcode." she kept her hand out, and eventually Sherlock handed her the phone. Activating it and holding it so he can’t see the code, she types in four digits. The phone beeped warningly.

Kat couldn't help but giggle seeing Irene's face - She was fooling around, there's no way she'd input the correct password so easily. Still, the detective snatched the phone from her hands smugly. "No, because it’s a duplicate that I had made, into which you’ve just entered the numbers 1058." he took the real phone from under the cushion, inserting the password. It was then that Katrina actually saw the lockscreen for the first time - I AM _ _ _ _ LOCKED - How fascinating, she thought to herself.

WRONG PASSCODE. 1 ATTEMPT REMAINING

He stared at the screen in disbelief. He failed three times. He'd been had. "I told you that camera phone was my life. I know when it’s in my hand." the man couldn't help but praise her. "You’re not so bad."

Irene snatched the phone away from him; Katrina looked simply unbothered, serene, whilst John was frowning at the pair holding intense eye-contact. "Hamish." he broke the captivating reverie between the two. "John Hamish Watson – Just if you were looking for baby names." Sherlock was thoroughly confused.

"There was a man – An MOD official. I knew what he liked." this time, she wrote the real code into the phone, then opened up a photograph. "One of the things he liked was showing off. He told me this email was going to save the world. He didn’t know it, but I photographed it." she handed the detective the phone. "He was a bit tied up at the time. It’s a bit small on that screen – Can you read it?" Sherlock sat down and narrowed his eyes at the picture.   

007 Confirmed allocation   4C12C45F13E13G60A60B61F34G34J60D12H33K34K

"A code, obviously. I had one of the best cryptographers in the country take a look at it – Though he was mostly upside down, as I recall. Couldn’t figure it out." she leaned her hands on his shoulders, leaning forward over him. "What can you do, Mr Holmes?" she whispered seductively into his ear. "Go on. Impress a girl."

"There’s a margin for error but I’m pretty sure there’s a 747 leaving Heathrow tomorrow at six thirty in the evening for Baltimore. Apparently it’s going to save the world. Not sure how that can be true but give me a moment; I’ve only been on the case for eight seconds." he looked at John, then went back to speaking with an obvious huff. "Oh, come on. It’s not code. These are seat allocations on a passenger jet." he showed the screen. "There’s no letter ‘I’ because it can be mistaken for a ‘1’; no letters past ‘K’ – The width of the plane is the limit. The numbers always appear randomly and not in sequence but the letters have little runs of sequence all over the place – Families and couples sitting together. Only a Jumbo is wide enough to need the letter ‘K’ or rows past fifty-five, which is why there’s always an upstairs. There’s a row thirteen, which eliminates the more superstitious airlines. Then there’s the style of the flight number – 007 – That eliminates a few more; and assuming a British point of origin, which would be logical considering the original source of the information and assuming from the increased pressure on you lately that the crisis is imminent, the only flight that matches all the criteria and departs within the week is the six thirty to Baltimore tomorrow evening from Heathrow Airport." he looked at Irene, who was already having mental intercourse with him. "Please don’t feel obliged to tell me that was remarkable or amazing. John’s expressed the same thought in every possible variant available to the English language."

"I would have you right here on this desk until you begged for mercy twice." the look of lust and fascination on her face seemed to be almost intimidating the detective, as he tried to divert the conversation towards John, to check those flight schedules. "I’ve never begged for mercy in my life."

"Twice." she emphasised, more aggressively.

John confirmed he was right, as always, and something about a 007 flight; That notion got Sherlock's mind into disarray, and he didn't notice Irene typing - Texting.

747 TOMORROW 6:30PM HEATHROW

The person who received Irene's text message grinned in triumph - He, in turn, sent two messages; One to Mycroft Holmes, reading 'Jumbo Jet. Dear me Mr Holmes, dear me.' and the other, to his unfortunate friend of old, 'Now the world is gone, I'm just one'. As Mycroft received the message from the comfort of his luxurious office, Katrina's phone beeped during the chaos at 221B baker street. It didn't take her long to understand who sent her such a cryptic message - Quickly, she made herself invisible and rushed out of the residence, calling Mycroft and having him send a driver ASAP so they can meet privately. During the time it took for Katrina to reach his residence, the Holmes brother was sunk on the chair, running his hand exasperated over his face, clearly shocked at the unexpected turn of events that washed over him. He trusted his brother, he trusted his plan - How could everything crumble before his very eyes, so rapidly, so aggressively? He removed his jacket, downing a glass of rum; His hands were folded in front of his mouth, as he kept rotating the gears of his mind, yet coming to no conclusion nor salvation. Evening came rapidly, and Mycroft's face was pained and anguish, his eyes wide with horror and terror; The very security and safety of the nation were in his hands. He failed the country. He failed everything.

Slowly, he closed his eyes and let his head fall into his hands, succumbing to despair. The only thing left to do was to negotiate with the Devil and pray for a miracle.

"Forgive the tardiness - Terrible traffic." ah, there she was. He did wonder what coincidence made it that she called him just a second after he received that dreaded message. "I won't beat around the bush. Irene Adler is working with Moriarty." that was one piece of information that piqued his interest - Far better than his own foolish little brother managed to gather up in almost a whole year. "Forgive me for taking so long - I didn't know Moriarty was involved, nor that it wasn't, truly, just about the compromising photographs. I should have known you wouldn't ask for help just for that. Forgive me for not realising sooner." Mycroft's jaw hung slightly agape at the apologising girl - What else could he say? How could she blame her, a normal person, when his own brother, a detective - His own kin, no less - Couldn't figure out the evident pattern he sent him over the months?

"It is not for you to apologise for something you were not told. I asked you to take care of my brother, and of the photographs - You did what I asked of you, and for that, I thank you. I cannot fault you for failing national security, when the failure was on my part." he sighed, leaning back on the chair, pouring more rum. "Forgive the unsightliness - And forgive me for being nosy, but how did you know?"

"Because Moriarty texted me." Holmes immediately sobered up, straightening his back and looking fixed at the girl as she showed him the message. "This lyric is from a Metallica song about war - Adding that to the conversation about flights and planes from home, and I realised Irene must have texted the code to Moriarty that instant, otherwise, why'd he text me something so weird, at that exact time?" 

"That is rather dangerous of him - Alas, he can afford it - Both him, and Miss Adler. They got what they wanted. They have the right to extort the nation." he sounded miserable - Katrina hated seeing the otherwise proud man so down in the dumps and self-deprecating.

"Mycroft - I know it is not for me to ask - But can you tell me what this flight is all about?" the man raised a quizzical eyebrow. "I think I have a plan to corner Irene Adler -- And I also think I know her phone's password."

"Well, Miss Black, if that is true, then Sherlock should learn from you." he smiled, though still doubtful. There wasn't much to lose though, telling her all about Coventry, how allegedly, in the Second World War, the Allies knew that Coventry was going to get bombed because they’d broken the German code, but they didn’t want the Germans to know that they’d broken the code, so they let it happen anyway. Likewise, this time, they also had a bomb threat, and Mycroft filled the whole plane with dead bodies - The plane shall fly, but there would be no deaths. Mission accomplished for the terrorists - Hundreds of casualties, but nobody dies. "The flight of the dead."

"So when Sherlock told Irene that the code is actually about a plane, he revealed that you already knew about the bomb." the woman hummed. "And with your plan destroyed, the plane cannot fly. The terrorists know already, and they can't be fooled. You must have been planning this thoroughly for months - No, years maybe - Correct?"

"That’s all it takes: one lonely naive man desperate to show off, and a woman clever enough to make him feel special." Mycroft smiled sarcastically. "Sherlock and Miss Adler are going to arrive at the plane. Sherlock will wallow in self-pity at his own foolishness, whilst watching the woman who defeated him so shamelessly takes three quarters of our country."

"Not if I can stop it." she took a little piece of paper and a crayon, writing down the lockscreen. "The woman made him feel special - He wanted to show off his wits to her - But the same is also the other way around."

I AM _ _ _ _  LOCKED

"Do you trust me, Mycroft?" the girl asked, writing in the code for him. "I know it is a lot to ask of you, especially after what happened -- But can you trust my intuition that I have guessed the code correctly?"

Mycroft stared perplex at the piece of paper, before averting his gaze towards Katrina's sparkling aquamarine eyes; Shrewdness, intelligence, wit, kindness and so much more. He was right to trust her once, and he will do so again. Only a woman could understand the complexity of another woman's mind and emotions, especially when it came to someone of the caliber of Irene Adler. At once, the elder Holmes crumpled up the paper and threw it in the fireplace, putting on his blazer and getting ready to leave. "Wait for us in the meeting room. I will make an opening for you."

Night time fell by quickly as Mycroft scolded his younger brother harshly - Though he hadn't enough hours in the day to scold him, for the villainess prowled through the plane isle, looking as sexy and dangerous as always - The Woman - Femme Fatale.  Sherlock still couldn't understand - How could he fail so badly? How could he let himself be played like a fiddle? This wasn't true - It was a farce, a game, a mistake - There was no way Irene Adler had the upper hand! There was no way he failed Mycroft's expectations of such a mundane and terribly easy pattern riddle! No way--

 Mycroft looked at his brother with intense disappointment. "I drove you into her path... I’m sorry." he lowered his eyes, clearly blaming himself for both trusting Sherlock, and for challenging him with the dangerous prospect of a powerful woman. "I didn’t know." this wasn't right - None of it was. Mycroft Holmes... Apologised? To him, of all people alive? He only ever apologised to their mother -- Did he really screw up that badly?!

"Mr. Holmes, I think we need to talk." the demoness spoke alluringly.

"So do I. There are a number of aspects I’m still not quite clear on." oh, poor boy, he still thought he was important.

But Irene pushed past him, not even sparing him a glance. "Not you, Junior. You’re done now." now in front of  Mycroft, Sherlock turned to watch Adler turn on her phone and showing it to the elder brother. "There’s more... Loads more. On this phone I’ve got secrets, pictures and scandals that could topple your whole world. You have no idea how much havoc I can cause and exactly one way to stop me – Unless you want to tell your masters that your biggest security leak is your own little brother."

Mycroft could no longer look into Irene's predatory blue eyes. He lowered his head and gestured for them to follow him into his office to negotiate. They sit down at the table, opposite to each other, whilst Sherlock sits away from them, on an armchair by the fireplace.

"We have people who can get into this." Mycroft tried to negotiate, but Irene was confident in herself, thanks to his own brother's foolishness.

"I tested that theory for you. I let Sherlock Holmes try it for six months." Irene smiled wickedly.

"Sherlock, dear, tell him what you found when you X-rayed my camera phone." she ordered him casually.

"There are four additional units wired inside the casing, I suspect containing acid or a small amount of explosive." Mycroft lowered his head into his hand, succumbing more and more to his despair. "Any attempt to open the casing will burn the hard drive."

"Explosive. It’s more me."

Mycroft tried once again. "Some data is always recoverable."

She challenged him once more. "Take that risk?"

"You have a passcode to open this. I deeply regret to say we have people who can extract it from you." the elder Holmes spoke, but his brother was forced to speak up against that idea once again.

"There will be two passcodes: one to open the phone, one to burn the drive. Even under duress you can’t know which one she’s given you and there will be no point in a second attempt." he explained.

"He’s good, isn’t he? I should have him on a leash – In fact, I might." she gazed intensely at Sherlock, though he didn't dare look at her - Only at the crackling fire.

"We destroy this, then. No-one has the information." came Mycroft's middle-ground idea.

"Fine. Good idea... Unless there are lives of British citizens depending on the information you’re about to burn." she played a dangerous game.

"Are there?" of course she wasn't going to play fair.

She reached into her handbag and took out an envelope which she pushed across the table to him. "A list of my requests; and some ideas about my protection once they’re granted." Mycroft took the sheet of paper from the envelope and started unfolding it slowly. "I’d say it wouldn’t blow much of a hole in the wealth of the nation – But then I’d be lying." he rose his eyebrows in amazement as he read through the demands she listed. Miss Black better be right with her plan, otherwise, they were royally screwed. "I imagine you’d like to sleep on it."

"Thank you, yes." but Irene didn't allow him any second to think his decision.

"Off you pop and talk to people." sighing, Mycroft sunk back in his chair.

"You’ve been very ... Thorough. I wish our lot were half as good as you." he praised her - She was deserving of it.

"I can’t take all the credit. Had a bit of help." she smiled ruely. "Jim Moriarty sends his love."

"Yes, he’s been in touch. Seems desperate for my attention... Which I’m sure he received from exactly the person he wanted." he huffed, remembering only he and Katrina received any bit of attention from the criminal.

"I had all this stuff, never knew what to do with it. Thank God for the consultant criminal. Gave me a lot of advice about how to play the Holmes boys. D’you know what he calls you?" she hummed playfully. "The Ice Man..." she then looked mockingly at the younger Holmes. "...and the Virgin." she smiled with triumph. "Didn’t even ask for anything. I think he just likes to cause trouble. Now that’s my kind of man."

"And here you are, the dominatrix who brought a nation to its knees." Mycroft stood up, along with Irene, appearing as though he was ready to bow to her in salute and admiration for her deeds in outwitting them both. "Nicely played." 

No, this couldn't be right, Sherlock thought to himself in alarm. Mycroft couldn't possibly accept defeat - Not in front of Irene Adler; Not in front of James Moriarty. No way - His own older brother, Mycroft Holmes -- Admit defeat?!

"Except Moriarty played you too, Miss Adler." Sherlock only jumped in his seat, hearing Mycroft's cunning words. "I was confident when I told you I have someone who can get into this." he snatched the phone casually, smiling confidently and he handed out the phone. 

"What could you possibly mean by that, Mr. Holmes?" Irene frowned, bewildered by the game the older man was playing with her. "Didn't we just assert that there is no one who could possibly guess the password safely?"

"But there is, Irene." Sherlock's eyes widened as he heard the familiar sound of heels clicking, and behind Mycroft appeared none other than Katrina Black, wearing an impish grin. "Moriarty sends his regards." she seemed delighted, amused; She was laughing even, not so lady-like, as she grabbed the phone in her delicately manicured hands. "James only told you how to play 'The Ice Man' and "The Virgin' -- But has he ever told you anything about yours truly?" she giggled, prowling theatrically around Irene. "I thought you understood me, Irene. I thought you saw me for who I was - The Princess - I expected you, of all people, to count me in -- Yet you completely disregarded me. Was it because I was truthful with you? Did you thought me weak for that?" she made a full circle around the Dominatrix, intimidating her like a starving wolf circling her prey. "James still send me flowers every week, you know? You are not that special - You are just another chess piece for him to entertain himself." 

"And how, exactly, are your silk gloves and kind words going to save the day, Princess? Go on, charm me, see if that works." Irene shot right back immediately, standing her ground steadfast. "I am into innocent little bunnies like you - You would look fantastic with silk ribbons tying your wrists together, and a velvet blindfold over those pretty eyes of yours."

"Oh, Irene, your confidence is so... Intoxicating. But let’s not pretend you don’t feel it — The tremor of doubt. The question creeping at the edges of your mind - What have I missed?" Katrina was now standing right in front of her - Once again, not tall enough because of her heels, but no less terrifying with that poison smile of hers.

Irene turned her head slightly, her smirk sharpening. "Enlighten me. What have I missed, Miss Kitty-Kat? I’ve already made a fool out of the Holmes brothers — What could you possibly bring to the table?"

Katrina's voice dropped into a mocking whisper. "Your mistake, Irene, was believing that love makes someone weak. You thought by wearing your heart on your sleeve, you could control him—" she gestured to Sherlock, who was not even breathing, watching the dramatic scene before his very eyes. "I told you, didn't I? My love is my strength - Yours is your worst undoing."

Irene's smirk faltered for a split second, before it returned back once more. "Oh, darling, don't tell me you deluded yourself into thinking I actually fell in love with Sherlock Holmes." she found herself mock laughing.

Her smile widened, tilting her head as though Irene’s words were pathetically adorable. "Is that so? Then let’s test that theory, shall we?" she flashed a brilliant smile as she theatrically pressed the letters to the password, then displayed it to the three participants of the play. Irene's face fell, and her bottom lip was wavering. "You think you’re invincible because you’ve built a fortress of secrets - But fortresses have gates, and the key is always the thing you value most. You just couldn’t help yourself, could you? You had to prove you were smarter than him. You had to prove to yourself, and to the whole world, that you could dominate even the great detective Sherlock Holmes."

I AMS H E R  LOCKED

"You challenged Sherlock, provoked him, teased him, tempted him, made him feel special. And in doing so, you exposed yourself. Because he matters to you. Too much. He became your greatest weakness." the lockscreen light flashed briefly before the phone opened, revealing its secret content. Silence descended like a thunderclap as Kat handed Mycroft the phone, just as promised.

Irene's face froze in disbelief and terror, the blood draining from her cheeks pale cheeks. "...How?"

"Mycroft promised me a cool umbrella and more Gesha coffee if I get the phone open." her silly joke, spoken in a dead-pan voice, made the elder Holmes let out an amused huff. Not a promise, but definitely an earned reward. "You dwelved into unknown territory. You could have used any random number, and you'd have won the game - Instead, you chose to play the love game - And you got burnt." she hummed, mockingly caressing her smooth cheek, removing the single crystal tear streaming down. "I understand love, Irene. I didn’t manipulate it. I embraced it. I wasn’t afraid to be vulnerable —To be myself. That’s what makes me stronger than you. While you were busy trying to control him, you gave away the one thing you never wanted anyone to see - Not even yourself."

"And what would that be?" the woman whispered, completely defeated.

Kat thus leaned in, her voice soft and cutting) "Your heart." she said. "You fell for him, Irene. And that’s why you lost." that wicked smile filled with venom was the last thing Irene saw. "You deserve better than him - Remember?" she turned that pitiful advice right back on her.

As Irene was taken away, Kat looked up at the elder Holmes, and smiled - This time, genuine and sweet. "Did I earn that coffee?"

"And the umbrella." he pocketed the phone carefully, leaning on the table. "Pearl pink and with white lace?"

"You know me so well, Mycroft!" unexpectedly, she hugged the elder brother, who awkwardly chuckled and patted her back. 

"Well then, with this unexpected happy end, I suppose we can return back to our normal schedules." the man sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I will have a car escort you and Sherlock back home." he assured the girl. "Do send my regards and thanks to Doctor Watson."

"Of course." she nodded, happy and reassured with the outcome. "I am glad everything ended up okay." she continued. "Looking forward to our next coffee date, Mycroft! Let's have a nice book also, yeah?"

Mycroft simply chuckled, nodding his head, watching the girl leave -- Then, he looked down at the flabbergast, speechless brother of his, still slumped in that armchair, as though he was a decoration. "It is late, Sherlock. You should go home." he took his cane. "Reflect on what happened and learn from your mistakes." he was too light on him.

It was late at night after the latest adventure was finally over; Fun indeed, and Katrina was privileged enough to see another side of Sherlock - Vulnerable and clueless, all because of a woman who got his flawless mind all tangled up with confusion. Mycroft's anger and defeat at having the person he trusted most, his own little brother, fall prey to the savage claws of a predator; The single tear that fell down Irene's delicate cheek as she watched Katrina's smile, typing the password to her precious phone; The look on Sherlock's face once he realised he'd missed a most evident clue, and that he had possessed the password, but he was far too blind to see it.

Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

After such a satisfying case, Katrina texted her criminal best friend with one single phrase - "I am Katlocked -- Are you Jameslocked?" she typed, and laughed heartily, pleased at her performance. She single-handedly flabbergast the four most intelligent people in the world, and earned their respect far more than she'd ever imagine. What a wonderful feeling, love is!

Euphoric, she opened the rosé bottle and poured the sparkly pink drink in one crystal champagne glass; She grabbed her mannequin skeleton and waltzed around the large living-room to whatever song was playing; She was having so much fun, she even sent a picture of herself and her macabre dancing partner, inviting James Moriarty to dance - Alas, he was far, far away and missing his best dancing shoes.

How long she enjoyed her ballroom activity, she did not know; Her reverie was broken by a knock on the door - Loud, speedy and repeated. Sighing, she dropped the skeleton to the ground, sipped half of her alcohol, then dragged herself to open the door. As expected, it was Sherlock - Hair disheveled, white shirt an unbuttoned mess, and looking quite exhausted... Or, perhaps... Troubled?

Sherlock looked up and now, scanning her looks - Similar to that night with the killer cabbie, she was wearing a dark green negligee and a loose coat over her shoulders, but based on the way they were hanging loosely off her gracious body, he couldn't help but deduce she had been moving a lot. Seeing her like that... Not styled up with fashionable clothes fully accessorised and jewelled up, hair and make up done and all that - Yet still such a naturally, genetically successful specimen... He must be experiencing a most painful chemical and hormonal imbalance. Was it something he was missing in his diet, or the lack of nicotine? "You shouldn't, as a lone and defenseless woman, open your door to strangers, especially at this hour of the night." he was discourteous about going up to her past midnight, yes, but he needed it. He couldn't wait any longer. 

"It's fine. I knew it was you." the girl chuckled lightly, seeing his furrowed brows. "Hard to think many people would be knocking that obnoxiously fast in Morse code." he was so adorable, all messed up and confused.

"You know Morse Code?" he blinked, looking down at the girl.

"Nope. But you do." she popped her tongue. "Just a wild guess, based on the rhythmic pattern." she shrugged, kicking the door open and signaling him to get inside. "Forgive my friend - He's wasted." she gestured to her skeleton friend, sprawled on the ground.

"What's the matter with him?" he mutter, going to pick him up and rattle him back on the stand.

"He stepped on my toes. Not a gallant move when waltzing." Sherlock nodded, still confounded by her actions. "Tea?" the girl asked, leaning on the arm rest of the couch. "Or should I open the wine bottle?"

"Forget the wine, that's not why I'm here and you know it!" he exclaimed, his tone up - Once he realised he shouted, he cleared his throat and apologise. "Forgive me. I did not mean to yell."

"If it makes for anything, I actually have no idea why you're here." she casually sipped from her rose.

"What do you mean - You don't know? Surely, you have to have some inkling, some -- Some idea... Something, anything!" she still shook her head. "Nothing at all?!"

"Don't get me wrong, I imagine you're here because your mind is still warped around what happened today with the password - But there are a million things that could be going on in your head, and I couldn't possibly guess them all. You, of all people, should know I could never come even close to guessing what you're thinking - You're too smart for me." the man groaned, shaking his head before burying his face in his hands.

"How can you say that after you've just solved the case -- If it weren't for you, Mycroft's case would have been compromised, the country would have suffered significant losses, Irene Adler would have won the game, Moriarty would have gained the upper hand... And I would have lost myself in self-doubt." the girl titled her head to the side, looking like a confused puppy. "I... I don't understand... When did I fall off my rational train of thoughts? When did I fall into her web of lies?" he continued, clearly with deep self-hatred. "Love isn't a mystery to me - I understand it, from a strictly physiological stand point - And I know I've not fallen in love with Irene Adler." he was still a rambling mess. "Has my fascination with solving difficult cases gotten the best of me? Have I forgotten this was more than a game? Did my pride make me underestimate a woman's cleverness, just because I thought I was unbeatable?"

"Are you here in hopes that I would be able to untangle the mess in your head?" she asked, pouring more rose into her glass.

"No, I-- Yes, sort of." he shook his head before abruptly standing up. "Love is a weakness, Kat! I can't... It's a disadvantage in every way. It is impossible for me to feel anything like that. I was not created to feel that." his teeth were painfully gritted, voicing his existential crisis. "So why is it that Irene Adler's love brought her to ruin, while your love made you solve the case?! I don't get it!" his voice was getting agitated and louder. "Mycroft told me I was a fool, John said I was clueless, yet both of them told me to just ask you - You're the biggest mystery I've ever encountered, and I can't seem to figure you out!"

"It's quite simple, really - I think it's so difficult for you because of the word, but change it with another common fear - Ghosts, for example." he rolled his eyes impatiently. "Irene Adler feared ghosts, but I didn't believe in them - So if both of us were thrown in a Haunted Mansion, I would easily find my way out of the house, while she would stumble around in the dark, terrified and foggy-minded."

"What the hell does that have to do with anything from the case?" he was quickly losing his patience.

"Everything." the girl smiled kindly. "Irene was over-confident; She was certain she made you fall madly in love with her - So she decided to be smug about it. She was certain she would beat you - Her love for you had nothing to do with her ruination - It was her pride that was her downfall." his eyes widened a little. "It was the same for you." she said. "Your overconfidence was your downfall."

"Okay, fine, so?" he urged her to keep going.

"So - Mycroft called me in his office that time to make sure I take care of you, and have the case solved. And I did." she spoke simply, with a shrug. "It wasn't difficult to see how much both of you were enjoying your little game of cat and mouse. I already had an inkling she'd changed the password to something that would be related to you - But once I heard she contacted Moriarty for help, I knew immediately what she did."

"I don't understand." he let out a big exhale. "I don't bloody understand!" he grunted under his breath. "That... That jerk... He knew that I... And I proved him right to doubt me..."

"Take it easy. We all learn from our mistakes. It's just important not to let pride get the better of us." she hummed, sipping again. She didn't really think she was getting through to Sherlock.

"Katrina..." he sounded... Weak. Vulnerable. He placed his hands over her cheeks, looking down into her gorgeous blue-green eyes. They were so sincere, so beautiful, so precious. "Tell me - What do you feel. Explain it to me. Make me understand." he gulped, blinking a few times. "Please." he didn't sound very comfortable saying a genuine 'please'. Emotions scared him.

"What I feel? Well... I'm not sure if words can explain it. It's something that is intuitively felt and understood, rather than rationally explained." she began, trying to figure out the right words. "When I hear your name being spoken by someone, I smile without realising." he nodded. "When I see you, I feel my heart fluttering with joy." he nodded again. "When I'm in your presence, I feel safe and reassured, as if nothing bad can exist in the world." it took a while, but he nodded again.

"How did you... When... Why...?" he sounded incoherent.

"I don't know." she shrugged. "Maybe it began when I first met you. You're physically attractive and fascinatingly intelligent - There's hardly anything not to love about you." her smile widened a little. "You can be a lot of negative things, yes - Arrogant, condescending, a liar, a manipulator, a nuisance and what not -- But you never displayed any of that with me. You made me feel special - Appreciated, even. And I've never felt that before from anyone else."

"But... I never..." he stammered again. "I specifically remember being around you when I told John I was married to my work and completely uninterested by anything else." he mumbled, seeing her nod in affirmation. "I must have hurt you."

"No - You hurt Molly, but not me." he seemed even more confused than before. "For me it doesn't matter whether it is romantic or purely platonic, as long as I continue being your friend. You are very dear to me, Sherlock. I appreciate you for who you are. Everything else is just a bonus - But nothing can take away from the special thing we share - You and I - Don't you think?"

He remained silent for a few seconds, gazing tenderly into her eyes, and then the corners of his mouth twitched a little, forming a mellow smile. "Yes - You are right. As always." as before, he placed a kiss on her forehead, then leaned in. "You are very special to me, Kat." with a subtle move, he took the glass from her hand, placing it back on the table. "More than anyone else." in spite of all common sense dictating him to return to his own flat and leave her alone - He couldn't. Sherlock felt, for the first time in his life, the soft lips of a beautiful woman, and the sweet taste of cherry lip balm she was using. Slow and unsure at first, but gradually growing bolder and more passionate, the detective couldn't get enough of her - His special friend, his darling Kat.

If love was a weakness for everyone else, it was the strength surging through Katrina's veins; And if she could be empowered by such a bold emotion, something so terrifying, so unpredictable... If she could be strong, so can he. Katrina’s lips were still tingling from the kiss, a soft hum of warmth spreading through her as she gently touched her lips, just where she'd been kissed... The air between them seemed to grow still, as if the moment itself was something too fragile to disrupt. Sherlock’s forehead rested against hers, his usually restless eyes now calm and searching, a quiet vulnerability in them that he didn’t often allow anyone to see.

“I didn’t plan this...” Sherlock whispered, his voice rough, the words spilling out as if they carried more weight than he'd intended. "Forgive me -- I don't know what came over me, I just--"

“I know.” Katrina replied, her tone light but filled with understanding. “You don’t have to explain.” she continued, her hand placed gingerly over his chiseled face. "I am happy that you did that."

He pulled back, breaking the delicate connection they’d shared. His hands, so accustomed to control and precision, now seemed to falter, unsure of where to place themselves. He stepped away, pacing the room, the space between them growing as he struggled with the storm inside his mind. His fingers absently tugged at his shirt cuffs, trying to smooth away the disarray that felt so foreign to him.

“What you feel for me...” he started again, but his voice trailed off, as if the words were too difficult to form. “It doesn’t make sense. You said it yourself - I can be selfish, calculating… Cold and even cruel. I’ve never been the type to search for love from people. I've only ever lamented over my work.” he stopped pacing and turned to face her, a mixture of frustration and confusion in his gaze. “Why would you…?”

"But Sherlock, you are wrong." she smiled sweetly. "Has anyone ever told you how sad you look when you think no one is watching you?" Katrina watched him with a quiet intensity, her heart sensing the weight of his struggle. She took a slow step forward, her presence steady and warm as she closed the distance between them. “Do you think love is something that can be reasoned with, Sherlock? Something we can control or dissect, just like we do with science?” she reached out, her fingers brushing lightly against his arm. “It’s not something we choose. It just happens. Like breathing, like gravity. You don’t stop to calculate each breath, you just… Breathe.”

His lips curled into a small, almost self-deprecating smile. “And you breathe for me?”

Her smile softened, filled with affection and a trace of amusement. “I’ve been breathing for you longer than you think.”

Sherlock’s eyes narrowed slightly, his mind turning over her words, trying to analyze them in the way he did with everything else. But this… This was different. “You don’t make sense, Katrina. You…” he paused, his voice quieter now. “It’s maddening,” he muttered, almost to himself. “Everything about you — Your kindness, your unpredictability, your ability to see through me — It defies everything I thought I understood. It’s like trying to solve a case where the answer keeps shifting.”

“And yet, here you are.” Katrina teased, gesturing to the room around them. “You came to me.”

“I couldn’t stop myself.” he admitted, his voice low. “The noise in my head… It was unbearable. Every misstep, every mistake — I could hear it over and over again. Failing the nation, disappointing Mycroft, losing to Irene and Moriarty..." he gulped, hanging his head. "But then I thought of you, and it… Quieted.” Sherlock’s gaze softened, and for a brief moment, it seemed as if the world outside had faded, leaving only the two of them in the quiet of the room. He exhaled deeply, the tension easing from his shoulders as he let her words settle in.

Her heart swelled at his confession, though she kept her expression steady. “That’s what love does, Sherlock. It’s not a weakness. It’s not a flaw. It’s—” she paused, searching for the right words. “— A kind of strength. The kind that makes us better, even when we don’t understand it.” he looked at her then, as though seeing her clearly for the first time.

“You make it sound so… Simple. I never understood that about you. I took you for a fool, a human with human emotions - And yet, every time, you had these... These revelations that I just... I couldn't come up with. Out of nowhere, even! You are simply impossible to understand, Katrina!”

“Sherlock - Love is simple. Feeling, also, is simple. You just need to stop being afraid of it, and accept it. Once you do, things will happen naturally.” they stood in silence for a moment, the city’s distant hum the only sound. Then, almost hesitantly, Sherlock reached out, his fingers brushing against hers. Katrina didn’t pull away; instead, she laced her fingers with his, grounding him.

“But… What if I fail you too?” His voice was softer now, vulnerable in a way that caught her off guard. “What if I disappoint you, like I’ve disappointed everyone else?”

Katrina shook her head gently, her hand sliding up to cup his jaw. “As long as you remain the Sherlock that I know... Then you cannot fail me." she smiled, a touch of sadness in her eyes. “I don’t need you to be perfect. I just need you to be you. The 'you' that I fell in love with. Brilliant, dramatic, cocky, arrogant, funny, witty, confident, silly, childish, playful... And I could go on the whole day.”

Sherlock’s breath caught in his throat as he processed her words. His mind, so used to ration and logic, was lost in this moment. He took a step closer to her, the space between them now nothing but a memory. His hand reached up, tentative at first, before resting gently against her cheek. “I don’t know if I can love you the way you want me to... No - The way you deserve to be loved.” he confessed, his voice trembling slightly.

Katrina’s thumb traced the outline of his jaw, her touch grounding him. “Just do what you've always done, and we are good." she encouraged him. "No need for big changes - That's always scary - Just be yourself and act naturally with me. You'll figure things out soon enough."

For a long moment, he stood still, as if considering the weight of her words. Then, almost imperceptibly, he exhaled, his shoulders relaxing. “You make it sound so simple. How annoying." Sherlock’s gaze softened, and he leaned in slowly, as if testing the waters. His lips brushed against hers, a delicate touch, hesitant but sincere - This time, he kissed her willingly, not out of impulse. It felt different... It felt... Somehow special. When he pulled back, he let out a stressed exhale, as though the weight of the world had shifted just a little bit.

“I don’t deserve you.” he murmured, his voice barely audible.

Katrina smiled, her hand resting over his heart. “That’s not for you to decide.” she slowly wrapped her arms around his torso, engulfing him into a loving embrace.

In the quiet of the room, Sherlock felt something he rarely allowed himself to acknowledge — Peace. For once, the noise in his mind faded, replaced by the steady rhythm of her heartbeat. He wasn’t sure what the future held, but for now, with Katrina in his arms, he didn’t need to have all the answers.

And for Sherlock Holmes, that was temporarily enough.

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[darkdevasofdestruction]

Chapter 4 - Another Sin

The sound of the beeping medical equipment was the sole disturbing of the graveyard silence amidst the recovery emergency room in the hospital; The sole reminder that she was, in fact, alive - Otherwise, with how annoyingly peaceful it was, she would have thought she was very much dead for some reason, in spite of her semi-present conscience. For once, she appreciated that Chinese Water Torture she was subjected to - That very rhythmical beeping that reminded her that her vitals were perfectly in check.

She was bored, and her body felt stiff and pained - Not from the gun shot wound, but from laying motionless in bed for so long. Her muscles were numb and aching. She wanted so badly to get a proper stretch and work out. Alas, it was a struggle to even open her eyes; She had to, though. She had to force herself to wake up, otherwise she'd be staying in that atrociously mind-numbing hospital room. It was awful - Really, it was.

Her fingers twitched, little by little, they even moved - She could weakly grip onto the blanket. That's good progress; Little by little, she'll wake up. Next were her toes, wiggling a little, and then her feet changed angle. And now, her eyes - Her lashes fluttered a few times, before finally, her lids opened, and then closed again. The chamber's lights were slightly dimmed, but it was bothering her - She had to adjust to the light again, after who knew how long she'd been asleep. Once, and twice, and three times before she could keep her eyes open for longer amounts of time.

Next she slowly turned her head to the right; A pink vase was filled with different blue flowers; There was a chocolate box next to it, and a cute little teddy bear plushie, holding a heart; Next to it, there was a book by Agatha Christie. She wondered who was nice enough to stop by and bring her get-well gifts. She was quite flattered actually - To think she'd have to almost die three times to receive any gift. It was... Quite sad.

With a little effort, she turned her head to her left; Much to her surprise, there was someone sitting on a chair next to her bed. It was Sherlock Holmes - And even more curious was that he was playing on her PSP - His brows were furrowed in concentration, and his fingers were quickly pressing buttons around. Based on the pattern, hilariously enough, he was playing a rhythm game - Without music.

"Normal... People would play... A rhythm game... With music..." she managed to speak, weak and low, and a little raspy, startling the detective - For a split second he lost focus, and his entire score was ruined.

"Oh, come on, couldn't you wait one more minute and twenty-three seconds so I could beat my previous high score?" he was salty, poor man. "Not that I managed to beat yours yet."

"Turn the music on... And you will." the man rolled his eyes and threw the PSP on the bed next to her, leaning back on the chair and crossing his arms to his chest.

"Where's the challenge then?" he huffed, pretending to be pouty, before finally looking back at the girl. "Took you long enough."

 Once he saw she was flexing her muscles in an attempt to sit up, he helped her. "Mum always said I love sleeping."

"A little too much." he sported a tender half-smile. "Two whole days and 4 hours." that's how long she's been sleeping. "Don't speak too much - Doctor's orders. You'll strain yourself."

"I'm a doctor too - I'm allowed to break the rules." she let out shaky breath of amusement. "Most I slept was 16 hours straight."

"16 hours? Either you overworked or you have depression." he raised his eyebrow, eying her with hawk-like attention.

"I'll let you guess." she smirked a little. "Uni life was funky." he nodded his head absent-mindedly. "Who are these from?"

"Molly brought the stuffed bear, Lestrade the chocolate, John the book, and your flatmate sent the flowers." surprisingly for the man, Katrina's eyes widened with shock at the last part.

"Can you help me a little? Bring me the vase here?" although confused, he did as instructed. 

"There's a note." Sherlock noted, picking it from among the flowers. "~What is wrong with another sin~" he hummed, handing it to the girl. "Odd. Inside joke?"

The blue haired girl could only chuckle, albeit, in pain. "Yes - But not with Lea." she looked up into Sherlock's beautiful blue eyes. "Moriarty."

"Moriarty sent you flowers?" she nodded his head. "Then what about the note? The vase? Is there anything--" she shook her head negative.

"Sit down and let me explain to you what this represents." the man, confused by the cryptic message, did as instructed, bringing his chair as close to the bed as possible. "James is admitting his defeat to me - But also, he's making fun of me." she chuckled a little. "The vase - It's the same shade of pink as my dress that night - And this is a red plum flower, in the middle, representing my bloody wound." she began her discovery. "The flowers are blue, like my hair - This bouquet represents me, but not only; This blue is the same as your eyes, Sherlock. He was very specific about it. Next - The little ones are Forget-Me-Nots; He doesn't want me to forget him and the time we spent together. This one is hydrangea - He knows it's my favourite flower, but not only, it also represents understanding and sincerity, which tells me he was being genuine when hanging out." Sherlock was quite impressed by her knowledge in flowers - To think one would love flowers so much they would bother learning their meanings; Feels useless to him, yet it seems to make her happy. Weird. "This is a Himalayan Poppy - It's a very rare flower, especially here - So he is telling me I am... Unique. And beautiful" next, she picked up a rose. "And this... Look at the thorns - Removed in places, but not completely; It means that I keep myself guarded against most people... A mystery.... Yet for those who are not affected by the thorns, I am... Worthy of admiration."

"That was a lot, just from some flowers. Are you sure you're not trying to steal my job?" the girl couldn't help but chuckle, looking away bashfully.

"I'm good, I promise. It's far too dangerous for me. Four is the number of death - I fear, next time, I will not be so lucky as to evade death." she gave him back the vase to place on the nightstand; To think she'd just wake up and would be able to figure out such intricate details, simply from a few flowers. Fascinating. 

"What about the note? Does it mean anything?" the man saw her smiling tenderly at the little note.

"It's one of the lyrics from a song we used to sing at Karaoke quite often - It's from Scorpions, a German rock back; It's called 'Rock you like a hurricane'. James and I loved to sing rock ballads. The 80s-90s nights were our favourite." why don't they have things in common to speak about? Him and Raven have so many things in common - Why don't they go out more often and have quirky conversations that would confuse John and make Mrs. Hudson laugh, and make Molly Hooper leave the room from jealousy? Why did she look so fondly on the ephemeral memories she had with a mastermind criminal.

 "Why don't you ever ask me to go to karaoke with you?" he found himself asking, almost sounding like a child.

"Because... You refused me and said it's stupid and only drunk people go there to meet other drunk people and get even drunker." right. He did say that, now he remembers. Damn it.

"Right. Yes. Yes I did say that." he remained quiet for a few seconds. "I can play the violin." he began, and with incredible force, he continued his idea. "... for you." he stopped abruptly once again. "If you want."

"I would love that, Sherlock. Thank you." she smiled sweetly, extending her hand to place over his own. "But why are you so... Awkward with me? Did I do something to make you uncomfortable?"

"No!" he exclaimed immediately, shifting in his seat. "No, no, not at all." he realised he was acting even more suspicious. "Just, uh, get better." he nodded his head, looking away. "Christmas is approaching - Can't have one of Mrs. Hudson's heart-warming Christmas party without you."

"I couldn't miss one of your special violin recitals even if death were to take me away." with the way her hand was placed over his hand, her thumb reached under his wrist. "I always turn off my music when you start playing. I can hear it from my room. You play beautifully."

"I didn't know." his pulse spiked a little, as his voice got softer, and his demeanour a little more fidgety than usual. He was adorable. "Thanks."

"When I'm out of here - Want to grab a coffee and have a stroll through the park?" Sherlock's eyes widened a little. Such a mundane activity was so below him - Were it anyone else; Were it Molly Hooper - He would have refused; He should have refused; And yet... He accepted.

"Sure. Sounds good." he nodded his head, getting up from the chair. "What are you going to do now?" he paced around a little, his eyes darting in any direction but hers.

"Well - Not much to do when you're bed-ridden, right? I will read the book that I've finished 6... No, actually, 7 times; And then I'll go through all of my games - For the millionth time - And once I've finished everything, I'll start throwing a fit so I can go back home. I hate hospitals." she shrugged impassively, lowering down on the bed; Her spine was beginning to hurt again.

"How ironic." he huffed, hearing the doctor say she hates doctors. "I give it 3 days tops before you start attempting to sneak out and escape this place. You just woke up and you're already bored out of your mind." much like himself, truly. 

"If I physically can, I definitely will. As long as I can stand up and move, I will return to work." she remarked proudly.

"As long as you don't hurt that clever little head of yours - I still need your epiphanies." he smiled dryly for a few seconds - Her brilliant epiphanies are exactly what got her in danger every time. "Not that I'd bother you with a case that was below a level 7." he strode to the door, his hand on the handle. "Get well soon - I'm bored."

She was left alone once again, save for her few entertainment devices - It wasn't too bad... For exactly two days, which is when she started getting restless and ready to run a marathon - Even if that meant possibly breaking her stitching. With the promise of regularly redressing her wound and taking it easy for a few weeks, Katrina returned home - Alone.

She had poor Mrs. Hudson to help her wash her hair - It was difficult to take care of such beautiful hair, when her body was aching like that. In fact, she even started dyeing it red - It suited her so well, a scarlet red so beautiful, like the Empress' cloud brocade - And it was easier maintenance.

Finally after four unbelievably long days, Katrina returned to work; She wore a lovely beige dress and was looking very stylish, matching the beauty of the coppery autumn; Molly hugged her carefully once she returned to the lab, and went to grab her a pastry and coffee; By the time Katrina unzipped the body bag, the door was slammed open, making the girl jolt in her own skin and gasp in pain, clutching her torso; Looking at the intruder, it just had to be Sherlock Holmes, Troublesome Detective, with a shit-eating grin on his face.

"You tell me to rest and take care, but it's going to be your fault if my stitches break!" she scolded him, shaking her head at his behaviour. "I also said you'd be out of there in 3 days. It was 4. I underestimated the wound. I am sorry." he said, without the least bit of remorse. "I would have gone out yesterday, but the PSP kept me going. I finished all my games. Again." she pointed out, a bit amused. "You're wearing lipstick - No, it's lipgloss. Pink. And it has glitter. Do you have a date? You also got a hair change - Different colour, and it's only brushed, not styled." he pointed out, raising her chin to get a better look. "Yes, I have a date with this elderly man right here on the table." she chuckled lightly "I've been wanting to switch to red for a while - I think it looks better, doesn't it?" she raked her fingers through her hair. "I like this change. A lot." "It's good." he said, turning around to look at the body. "It suits 'Katrina'." "I'm sorry if it feels unnatural or difficult for you to switch how you call me - It took me a long time to legally change my name; I wasn't even sure if it worked. It was just easier to stick to an old nickname from highschool." she smiled a little awkwardly.

"Nothing I can't get used to." he rushed to get the riding crop for today. "Today's experiment -  If it bruises in 20 minutes, then I've got the culprit. It's for a case."

"Getting kinky, Sherlock. Have fun." she gave him thumbs up before going to the table and continuing her microscope investigation.

More gently this time, the door was opened and Molly got in the room - She was wearing lipstick this time. Red and vibrant. And she went to smile at Sherlock, asking him about his experiment... But that was merely a conversation starter to something more important. "Would you like to have some coffee?" she asked, obviously asking him for a date. Sherlock then stopped his crop whipping and looked at her casually. "Yes. Black, two sugars, no milk. Thanks. I'll have it here." "Oh, uhm... Sure..." she nodded, very dejected, and left the room with her head hanging down in disappointment. "You... Know she was asking you on a date, right?" Katrina asked carefully, only to see him nodding casually. "Well, I wasn't interested. What was I supposed to say?" he shrugged simply, continuing his whipping until he was pretty exhausted. "You're a mess. Take my handkerchief." the red haired girl sighed, getting up and patting away the sweat from his forehead. "Thanks." he muttered, taking the handkerchief from her hand and continuing to wipe away his sweat. 

"Here you go, Sherlock." Molly returned with the coffee, and the man in cause could only smile and nod at her. "You are not wearing lipstick anymore." he pointed out with a frown. "Oh, yeah, uhm... I didn't think it fit." she stumbled over her words with an awkward chuckle. "Pity. It made your mouth look smaller." as insensitive as always; After taking a sip of the coffee, he put it on the corpse table and looked at Kat. "I'm starving, let's get lunch." but he didn't wait for her to answer; he just put his arm around her shoulder and guided her out of the room. They went to a nice, little pub nearby that served some light food, and they dug in, listening to the lovely jazz music. Neither of them said anything for a while, but the silence was comfortable as it was. He paid for the consummation, despite her protests, but he merely said he was making it up to her, because of what happened at the Chinese Circus.

Next, they went to the nearest coffee shop and, to her surprise, Sherlock knew just what to order. "Tiramisu Dolce Latte, XL, no whipped cream, thanks." he ordered, and then handed her the cup. "It's so sweet you can hardly tell it's coffee anymore." "How'd you know my order, Nostradamus?" she chuckled, thanking him for the coffee. "You always order the same thing, it's not rocket science." he muttered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world - Which, really, it was. Still, she didn't think he actually paid attention to unimportant things. "You know... I think you made Molly cry back there." she muttered, making him frown and turn his head to look at her, confused. "Why would she? Did I say something wrong?" he asked, cluelessly - He was playing. "I was just being kind to her - Would turning her down bluntly be better? Not very gentlemanly of me, is it?" "Well... You did ask me on a date just after she asked you out. For the hundredth time." she looked at him all cheeky, waiting for his reaction. "If she didn't get it by now, it's her fault not mine. You're too nice for your own good. You saw what happened with Moriarty." this comment made her chuckle awkwardly and look away. "That thing with Moriarty... He was entertaining. I'm not like you, Sherlock... I need people to talk to. I get lonely. Lea has other friends now, I don't matter anymore. She moved out." Katrina said, looking up at the cloudy sky. "Molly is... Only ever talking about you and work... And you just appeared just recently, and even so, you were... You are..." she sighed, seeing her breath because of the cold. "Married to your work. I always had fun doing cases together, even if it meant almost dying. Your company is everything to me." her honesty was painful to Sherlock, and he couldn't understand why. Feelings always made his mind go into disarray. "But... Moriarty always knew what to say. He did his research in advance, he knew everything I liked... And, thing is... I know that... Some of them, he genuinely enjoyed too. Like the music - He just confirmed he liked that. He didn't want to kill me... I would have died a hundred times if he wanted me dead." she let out a heavy exhale. "James Moriarty was the only friend I've ever had in my life." admitting this made her uncomfortable, but relieved. She knew what she felt, and she didn't stray away from it. Right or wrong, it is what it is. It wasn't her fault she was unlucky in the social department - She enjoyed her friendship with Moriarty while it lasted. 

"Well... Right or wrong... I, also, haven't had this much fun in a while." the detective muttered in a low voice.

"I guess... We are back where we started." the melancholy in her voice was very reminiscent of the dead season of early winter.

"Maybe not." Holmes looked down at the girl who sported a particularly depressive disposition, then looked back at the sky with a large smile. "Did you know... There are exactly 247 different types of tobacco?"

"247? I thought there were only 243!" Katrina looked at him a bit puzzled.

"Ah! How did you know that?" he asked, a little giddy.

"I read it on your blog." she explained simply. "I read all your posts. Quite interesting, really."

"Aha! You read it on my blog!" he seemed enthusiastic about that notion. "Oh, I just can't wait to tell John about it - He said nobody reads my blog!"

"Well... It's a little... Stiff. I can see why John's stories are better received." his glee vanished. "But I still love your work. They're both good, in different ways. Just like you can't compare flowers with fairy lights - Both gorgeous, but different."

"Diplomacy will get you nowhere." he huffed, now a little offended. "Anyway, I just quite recently discovered new types, and--" and thus, the great Sherlock Holmes began rambling about who knows what; It was the first time someone was actually listening to him, and not just nodding along, deaf, and unattentive. 

Christmas was approaching at a slow pace; The whole London was beautifully decorated for this festivity. It was Kat's favourite time of the year, truly, the only joy she had in life was the beauty of Christmas - Likewise, the greatest pain was being all alone on Christmas.

One random day like any other, Katrina left her flat - She was dressed as nicely as always, and since her injury was healing well, she found it easier to get dolled up as before. Just as she got out, she was met with a luxurious black car, and a beautiful woman around her age texting quickly on her phone. She looked at the doctress and opened the door, welcoming her inside, telling her someone wants to speak to her directly. Were it not for John's story of how he met Mycroft, she'd have been on very high alert and terrified out of her mind.

The car ride was quiet, but very comfortable, and she was brought to this wonderful residence - Kat was almost sure even Buckingham Palace wasn't this magnificent, nor were the gardens so well attended to. This was Mycroft Holmes' residence. To think she'd be alive and have the privilege to step into such a luxurious and high-class villa... Outstanding! She felt like a princess walking around and admiring the gorgeous architecture.

The butler guided her towards the elder brother's study room - It was bright and sunny, comfortable and furnished in great taste; A few plants, a red flower by the windowpane, a whole wall-length shelf filled with hardcover books - And the table was large, sporting a high-tech computer and several piles of papers, a glass of water, a cup of coffee, a plate of cookies and an elegant pencil case filled with expensive ink stylos, ink, wax and stamps.

"Good morning, Mycroft. Lovely day, isn't it?" they shook hands before he gestured her to sit down in the red velvet armchair in front of him.

"Quite so. Coffee? Biscuits? They're quite delightful." he offered, leaning back on the back of his own armchair; He was sporting a burgundy red tie. 

"This tone of red suits you well." she smiled kindly; From the way she was sitting so elegantly, and the colour of her dress, the way the sunlight was peering through those wide windows, she looked radiant, Mycroft remarked. "I would love sweet coffee - And some biscuits, please - Thank you very much."

"Great choice." he smiled, motioning for the butler to do as instructed. "Gesha coffee. All the way from Panama." he went on, taking a bite of the cinnamon biscuits.

"Truly - This is Gesha coffee? Why, that is the most sought-after coffee! I heard it tastes differently with every brew!" Mycroft was rather pleased with having someone with extensive knowledge - And actual passion - For coffee. There are enough people quite like his younger brother who have plenty knowledge, but care little for the subject that matters. Coffee, tea and desserts are of high, national importance! 

"Exactly that, Miss Katrina." he took a sip of the coffee. "Mine has a tint of Jasmine today."

"I have never tasted such amazing coffee - It is worth the praise!" the girl eagerly took another sip. "I think mine has the aroma of... Raspberry? And... Is this peach too? Fantastic!" she looked visibly sparkly with each sip. "You spoil me, truly! So - Will you tell me what may I help you with?"

"You seem to have recovered well after that unpleasant incident. You are in high spirits today." the man gestured as he leaned back in his seat. "Perceptive as always."

"The better the coffee, the better the day." she chuckled sweetly, trying one of the biscuits also. "Delightful indeed!" she exclaimed happily. "I may not ever be up for a marathon run, but my mind hasn't taken a break yet." her disposition was quite bright. "So what is it about Sherlock that I should be aware of? Is there something about a case -- And for some reason, like sibling rivalry, Sherlock isn't taking you seriously?"

"Doing well indeed." he nodded his head appreciatively. "A matter of national importance; I will keep it brief as to not bother you with details, or information that I cannot publicly disclose." she smiled at him to continue. Mycroft showed the screen of his monitor, depicting a gorgeous woman. "This is Miss Irene Adler - Her profession is... Well, delicate." he showed next the promotional pictures from her website.

"Oh~! Miss Irene Adler is a freaky Snow-White! Hair dark like ebony, skin white as snow and lips red like the blood her mother spilled on the snow when she pricked her finger embroidering. She looks incredible." the older Holmes was quite shocked to see the angelic-looking lady smirking so enigmatic... So intrigued and fascinated by a dominatrix, a woman embodying the complete opposite of everything she is. "Does Miss Irene have some kind of blackmail material on someone important and we need to get whatever it is? Given her profession and who she is, I imagine she gets a lot of clients. She must be hunted down like the magical white deer."

"That is correct." the man nodded, closing the pictures. "Miss Adler has in her possession a numerous amount of... Compromising pictures that we are afraid she might use as blackmail. We need to retrieve those photographs."

"I understand the picture." Katrina said, before leaning in a little closer. "Where do I come in?"

"It is a complicated matter - My brother, a piece of work - He... Never..." he seemed quite uncomfortable trying to explain things about his brother. "You are a remarkable and charming young lady, and I am sure you have realised by now my brother has become taken with you in ways that I thought impossible for him before." Mycroft was having troubles being perfectly eloquent when it came to the matters of his brother. "Miss Adler is much unlike you - She is aggressive, and foreign to everything Sherlock's met before." he cleared his throat. "I trust that you, and of course, Doctor Watson, will be able to keep him in check. I fear my brother might lose his head a little." he flashed a sarcastic smile. "He is not much unlike a boy who just hit puberty."

"If it were just about keeping Sherlock in check, I imagine you would have had a meeting with John, in some abandoned parking lot or construction site. Instead, you brought me to your office to speak privately, at your own home." Mycroft's smile widened at her stellar intuition. "Do you, perchance, wish me to make sure the case gets fulfilled, should anything happen to Sherlock?"

He neither confirmed, nor denied. "My brother should count his blessings with you around." he finished the coffee from his cup. "Once you're done, we're leaving for the meeting place."

"Oh, before that, I had a curiosity, if you don't mind me asking." he gestured for her to speak. "I was wondering about your umbrella." she pointed towards the umbrella holder, and his umbrella. "The night we met, after the cabbie incident, you had an umbrella, despite it not raining, and you having a car just nearby." she smiled like a little kid ready for a mystery. "And you have an umbrella holder in your office - On the second floor of your mansion. Doesn't quite add up, does it?" she grinned cheekily. "Is there something special about this particular umbrella of yours, that those by the entrance door don't have?"

The elder Holmes chuckled, entertained, and he grabbed the umbrella from the holder; He pressed a button and showed the handle of the umbrella was actually a hidden sword. "Ingenious little thing, isn't it?" he stood tall and straight, holding a chevalier fencing pose.

"Fantastic! You look fantastic! I never took you for a fencer - How elegant!" the man laughed at the praise, looking away from the girl. "Mycroft, do you have a knighthood? Should I call you - Sir Mycroft?"

"I will leave that for the valiant." he used the umbrella as a cane, walking to the door and opening it for the lady. "Shall we?"

The car they drove in was even more expensive; Katrina was in awe at all the wealth, but portrayed none of those emotions, only carrying herself like the proper lady she wanted to be seen as. Just as before, the car ride was completely silent, yet comfortable. Once they arrived to their destination, Mycroft opened the door and offered his hand to help her get out of the car - And enter Buckingham Palace, of all things. She might not be meeting the Queen, but the people she met weren't low status either. Mycroft introduced her as a doctor and person of great relevance to the case, and then showed her where to wait for them, in the lobby.

"Think we'll be meeting the Queen?" she heard a familiar hushed voice coming from there.

"Perhaps not a Queen by blood, though I would love to believe that I embody the allure of a Princess." with a charming smile, Katrina did a princess courtesy in front of the two flabbergast men sitting on one of the red couches. "Lovely seeing you."

"What are you doing here?" Sherlock, who was wrapped like a burrito in a large white sheet, brought the textile even closer to his body, and looked at her with a weird expression.

"I had the courtesy of driving here with Mycroft." with small, graceful steps, the girl got in front of them. "Did you miss me?"

"S-Sorry, did you just say - You rode in with Mycroft?" John was shocked and stammering.

"Why, yes, lovely car, amazing driver - Though I have to say, I am quite jealous on that house of his - And the garden especially!" their eyes widened realising she just implied to have been at his home. 

"Why are you here?" Sherlock asked with mild hostility, only to see the wicked smirk on her face, mimicking that of Moriarty himself.

"I know something you don't know~!" she giggled playful, waiting for the very man and his client to arrive. "Why are you being so hostile with me today, Sherlock~?" she slowly bent to the waist, getting to his level. "Woke up on the wrong side of the sheets~?" she hooked her finger underneath the hem of the textile around his neck, pulling back a little, revealing he was actually perfectly naked underneath. "My, Sherlock, darling, I never imagined you were so freaky~!" she giggled, making the man clench his jaw, disliking being taunted like that very much.

"Blame it on Mycroft. It's his fault, not me." he seemed very upset that there was something she knew, but he didn't; Why did Mycroft call for her, before him? Mycroft never calls people into his office, let alone, his own house! What did he want with her? What did he tell her? He was so upset and indignant, he almost didn't realise she had sat down between him and John on the couch; So many question filled his head, yet no answers - He couldn't just ask her directly, could he? He had to be sneaky about it, Mycroft could be listening at any moment; He had ears everywhere, he knew everything, just like a spider weaving his web throughout the world.

The more he thought about those gnawing questions, the more lost in thought he was - That is, until Mycroft came into the picture, and he heard John's comment - "Looks like Her Majesty just arrived." at once, the two of them started chuckling like children, whilst Katrina had to bite her lip and look away - Not only their snark was hilarious, but Mycroft's exasperated visage was making it even more so amusing.

"Can you two, just once, behave like grown up?" the elder one scolded them.

"We solve crimes, I blog about it and he forgets his pants. I wouldn't hold up so much hope." John kept his best serious face.

"I was in the middle of a case, Mycroft." Sherlock looked up at his infuriating older brother.

"What, the hiker and the backfire?" Mycroft kept his hands in his pockets, looking impassively at his brother. "I glanced at the police report - A bit obvious, surely?"

"Transparent." Sherlock snarked.

"Time to move on, then." Mycroft cleared his throat; John looked at his partner with confusion - How the hell did he solve the case without even being there? The elder Holmes picked the pile of neatly folded clothes and handed them to Sherlock, who looked away with condescence. "We are in Buckingham Palace - At the very heart of the British Nation - Not to mention, you are being indecent in front of a lady." he was very expressive in his annoyance with his bratty little brother. "Sherlock Holmes, put your trousers on!" he truly sounded like an exhausted mother with a misbehaving child. 

"What for?" oh, so bratty! Kat's never seen him THIS defensive.

"Your client." Mycroft put emphasis on that aspect.

"And my client is?" Sherlock finally stood up, although rather confrontational. 

"Illustrious, in the extreme." a new man appeared in the room, also looking slick and suited up. Must be working with the Noble Family or some high-up political stuff. Katrina always hated politics, so she preferred to stay unengaged in such matters. "And remaining, I have to inform you, entirely anonymous." this man stepped towards them. 

This man, Harry, shook hands with Mycroft as if they were on friendly terms; Mycroft apologised for the compromising position he found his little brother in. "This must be Doctor Katrina Black, the lady you've been praising lately for her admirable contributions to the forensics field, and the past crime solving?" Mycroft gave a split second smile, offering an affirmative answer as the man, Harry, bent to kiss her hand before turning to John. "And this must be Doctor John Watson, formerly of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers?" they shook hands. "My employer is a tremendous fan of your blog - Particularly enjoyed the one about the Aluminium Crutch."

"Thank you." John looked at Sherlock with a smirk. 

"And Mr. Holmes the younger - You look taller in your photographs." what a shady comment!

"I take the precaution of a good coat and a short friend." came Sherlock's defiant answer. "Mycroft, I don't do anonymous client. I'm used to mystery at one end of my cases - Both ends is too much - Good morning." Sherlock simply stepped away, with clear snarky offensive.

To stop him, Mycroft stepped on the sheet, making it fall almost entirely off of his little brother; Although the elder one was pissed, he didn't look, as the others did, feeling second hand embarrassment. That was a very nice body, Katrina barely stopped herself from doing a teasing wolf-whistle. The atmosphere was as tense as it was, she needn't add more fuel to the fire. "This is a matter of national importance - Grow up!" poor Mycroft. 

"Get off my sheet!" the younger Holmes was furious.

"Or what?!" Mycroft provoked him. 

"Or I'll just walk away." he threatened.

"I'll let you." 

"Boys, please, not here. Behave." John spoke in a mellow voice.

"It would be a pity to start arguing in such a lovely place, provided we have such an intriguing case to solve." Kat leaned back on the couch, smiling emptily. "Surely, one look at where we are, and you could easily figure out the identity of our most esteemed client, yes?" she got up and picked the clothes; Her small heels were the only source of sound as they circled around the half-naked man, and presented him with his clothes. "God save the Queen - That's what you, Englishmen, say, am I correct?" Sherlock could only grit his teeth, looking down at the cheeky girl with spite.  "As much as I enjoy seeing you half-naked; You wouldn't really want to be seen like that by dear old Lizzy junior, yes~?" that bloody smile of hers was so enticing. "Not that she wouldn't enjoy seeing such a fresh and masterful painting, amongst these old and boring cobwebs..." quite so, even the Queen would enjoy seeing an attractive young man like Sherlock Holmes naked, in all his glory.

Though Mycroft was almost horrified hearing the foreign girl call the Queen of England, Her Highness, Elizabeth the II - 'Old Lizzy junior' ... He couldn't help but notice the subtle flexes of his brother's muscles, and the slight twitches in his posture - He could bet he was forcing himself hard not to be amused by the girl's outrageous comments. "Give that here." snatching the clothes from her grasp, Katrina went back to her seat, as the detective walked away to get dressed, and returned as elegant as always. Victorious.

"My employer has a problem." old man Harry spoke first.

"A matter has come to light of an extremely delicate and potentially criminal nature and in this hour of need, dear brother, your name has arisen." Mycroft continued the preface of the mystery case.

"Why?" Sherlock asked bluntly. "We have a police force of sorts, even a marginally secret service. Why come to me?" what a silly question to ask!

"People do come to you for help, don't they, Mr. Holmes?" Harry asked simply. 

"Not to date anyone with a navy." how fascinating. 

"This is a matter of the highest security and, therefore, of trust." truly, the issue was a very delicate matter. 

"You don't trust your own secret services?" John seemed actually surprised by that.

"Anyone can be bought with money." Kat chuckled sardonically. "It's not easy finding good people like you, John."

Harry rushed his work partner to get to the point. Mycroft opened his suitcase and handed Sherlock a picture of Irene Adler. "What do you know of this woman?" of course, he knew nothing of mundane television. "Then you should be paying more attention. She's been at the center of two political scandals in the last year and recently ended the marriage of a prominent novelist, by having an affair with both participants separately." quite the unhinged behaviour. "Irene Adler, professionally known as The Woman." Mycroft spoke out her name. "There are many names for what she does; She prefers 'Dominatrix'."

"Dominatrix." Sherlock found himself muttering under his breath.

"Don't be alarmed." Mycroft taunted his younger brother. "It's to do with sex."

"Sex doesn't alarm me." Sherlock glared at his brother.

"What would you know?" that was painfully remarked. "She provides, shall we say, recreational scolding - For those who enjoy that sort of thing - And are prepared to pay for it." he spoke simply. "There are all from her website." he handed Sherlock the promotional pictures from her website. 

"And I assume this Adler woman has some compromising photographs?" his question was affirmed. "Hardly difficult deduction - Photographs of whom?" 

It didn't come as easy for either men to explain. "A person of significance to my employer." Harry spoke. "We'd prefer not to say any more at this time."

"You can't tell us anything?" John was quite surprised - How were they supposed to remove the photographs of a person they don't even know?

Mycroft gave one more detail without divulging the identity of the employer. "I can tell you it's a young person." of course it is. "A young female person." was it Harry's own daughter, based on his reaction?

"How many photographs?" Sherlock asked.

"A considerable number, apparently." Mycroft replied - And Irene and the young lady appear in these photographs together, evidently. A wide range of compromising photographs.

Sherlock rolled his eyes - This wasn't a case, this was ridiculous. Something like this could easily be solved with money. "I have a question." the detective huffed under his breath hearing Katrina speak in that sweetly voice of her; There was no need for questions, she should know better than to waste time. "At this very moment, is Irene Adler using the photographs as blackmail? Is she asking for money in exchange for the photographs? Or... Is she using them for safekeeping for black days, so that she could, one day, use them, in case she needs something... Like, say, protection, to vanish, or be safely transported to another country." actually, that was a good question, the man realised. "The employer isn't the only person of significance that became her client - Surely, she has countless of photographs with powerful and wealthy people. That means she must be hunted down constantly by people, much like us, who want to make sure those photographs don't come to light."

"Quite so, Miss Katrina, she doesn't want money. In fact, she got in touch and informed us the photographs existed. She indicated that she had no intention to use them to extort either money or favour." it was a power play with the most powerful family in Britain, Sherlock remarked, now deeply interested. 

"Now that is a dominatrix - Oooh, this is getting rather fun, isn't it?" while Sherlock was quite happy with the outcome, everyone around him was... Less than stellar. They were going to have a looot of fun.

The trio took a cabbie to return back home - Funny enough, Sherlock stole an ashtray for John. How silly of them.  After a long time trying to figure out what 'battle armor' to wear, the detective changed back to his usual clothes, and they left towards the address of Irene Adler.

Whilst Sherlock and John were busy play-fighting like two children, Katrina simply went by the residence and pressed the intercom. A lady answered. "Hello?"

"Hello - I am Katrina Black - I believe Miss Irene Adler is waiting for me?" she spoke simply. "Sherlock is a little busy playing in his sandbox, he'll be a little late." the door buzzed, and she was allowed in. "Hello - And thank you." she was met with a beautiful woman who guided her in the living room - Large, and pristine white.

She took a few small steps towards the middle of the room, admiring the simplicity of the place, and how elegantly chic it looked - Very French classic, she thought to herself. Before she could sit down, however, she heard the sounds of high heels clicking against the floor, and as she turned towards the door, she noticed the stunning woman in all her glory, looking at her like a hunter ready to hunt down its prey; A cheetah ready to sprint over and rip apart the innocent and oblivious white bunny standing right in front of her.

"Miss Irene Adler - You are even more beautiful in person. It is lovely meeting you." Katrina spoke in the same demure, polite voice she always uses, allowing no insecurity or speck of intimidation to be seen. She smiled sweetly, doing a little princessy courtesy in front of the woman. The two looked each other up and down, analysing each other thoroughly. Two sides of the same coin - Two beauties depicting the divine feminine. 

"You must be Miss Katrina Black. What a sweet little dove you are." Irene prowled forward, almost fascinated by her radiance, her bright light, like the Virgin being engulfed in an aura of purity. "I was not expecting you - Though what a pleasant surprise."

"Forgive the intrusion in your lovely home." Katrina smiled foxily. "The boys are still outside, playing."

"With such a beauty in front of me, the boys hardly matter now, do they?" Irene was now right in front of her, slightly towering over the younger girl, whose heels were smaller, more delicate. Irene turned leisurely, her smirk blooming as she takes in Katrina’s pristine appearance. “Well, aren’t you a surprise? Not quite what I was expecting. You’re... Softer. Like a porcelain doll wrapped in silk.”

Katrina stepped forward, smiling politely, her voice gentle but grounded. “And you’re everything I imagined. Bold, unyielding. A woman who knows exactly what she wants - And takes it.”

Irene raised an eyebrow, circling Katrina slowly like a predator sizing up itsprey. “Compliments from a stranger? Careful, darling, I might think you’re trying to charm me - And private sessions are expensive.”

"Charm you? Perhaps, for someone like you, it might look that way - The best I can do is charm a person, whereas, you can seduce them." Katrina let out a soft laugh, her hands clasped delicately in front of her.  “Alas, no, I am not looking to charm you, Miss Irene. Admire, perhaps. I find it’s easier to appreciate people for what they are than waste time wishing they were something else.”

Irene paused, intrigued, her smirk fading into something sharper - She felt almost intimidated by the little angel's bright white light.  “Admiration. That’s a rare currency. Most people only give it when they think they’ll get something in return." she stopped for a brief second, her haunting blue-grey eyes peering deep into those gentle aquamarine eyes. "And you? What’s your price?”

Katrina met Irene’s gaze steadily, her smile unwavering. She knows she's somehow managed to get under her skin. “I don’t have one. Not everything has to be a transaction, Miss Adler. Some of us give freely.”

Irene laughed, low and rich, shaking her head slightly. “Freely? Oh, darling, you’re either lying to me or lying to yourself. Nobody’s that pure. Not in this world. Nothing is for free.”

Katrina stepped closer, her voice calm but with a quiet intensity. “Purity isn’t about naivety. It’s about choice. Do not make the mistake of confusing kindness for weakness. Our power and confidence simply stems from different assets.”

Irene tilted her head, her eyes narrowing as though reevaluating Katrina - She thought she was just a simple woman, falling for the simple charm of a pretty face - Of Sherlock Holmes - But no, she was proven wrong; What a peculiar specimen. “Different, yes. But strength comes in many forms. You wear yours like a ribbon. I wear mine like a weapon. Tell me, which one do you think wins in the end?”

The red head found herself smiling softly, almost wistfully. “The one that remains true to oneself."

Irene stared at her, a flicker of something vulnerable crossing her expression before she covers it with a smirk. A strong woman indeed, this princess. A much worthier foe than she anticipated. Truly, women were outstandingly remarkable. “Interesting answer. You’re not quite the innocent little dove you pretend to be, are you? There’s something sharp under all that silk.”

Katrina had a faint, knowing smile on her face, realising the shift in the woman's demeanour and approach towards her. “Sharp edges aren’t always visible, Miss Adler. Some are meant to be felt, not seen.”

The Dominatrix stepped back slightly, folding her arms, still watching Katrina closely. “And here I thought this was going to be dull. I was right to wear my battle armor." she chuckled under her breath. "Tell me, princess, what is it you want?”

"Perhaps you may want to hear me saying that I came here to fight you - The truth is, I am more of a babysitter. Boys are, after all, such children - And only Lord knows, mommy dearest must take care of her little dumb ducklings." she chuckled softly.

"Darling, you are quite the mystery here. Untouchable, yet somehow... Disarming. It’s maddening.” Irene grabbed Katrina's chin, propping it up to look straight into her eyes - The mirror into her soul. Despite her timid shiness, Katrina's eyes revealed nothing except for her neutral intentions. What an enigma. "What secrets are you hiding, you little grey butterfly?"

"That is something that not even Sherlock himself figured out." Katrina's smile widened, akin to that of a fox. "Would you like to try and figure me out, Miss Irene?"

Their little game was unfortunately disturbed by the boys finishing their little brawl; The intercom was blaring aggressively, and Irene's assistant smirked in amusement, answering. He was so piss-poor at acting, that Kate pitied him and just let him in - And Doctor Watson, of course.

Irene rolled her eyes, her smirk returning as she caressed Katrina's long, velvety hair. "Men always know when to come and ruin the fun for us, girls, don't they?" she hummed sweetly into her ear. "It was much more fun with just us around, wasn't it?"

"I never thought motherhood fitted me. Wouldn't you agree?" the vixen giggled preciously, her glittery pink gloss shining brightly in contrast with the white room.

Irene embraced the beauty just as Sherlock entered the room; She wore an innocent smile as she noticed him deep shock. "Hello. Sorry to hear that you’ve been hurt." she spoke in such a sweet voice. A perfectly fake sweet voice. "I don’t think Kate caught your name."

Sherlock, seeing the two women embracing, could only stammer over his words almost pathetically. His voice fails him when he realises that, with the exception of high-heeled shoes, she is flawlessly naked. His jaw drops a little. "I’m so sorry. I’m..."

"Oh, it’s always hard to remember an alias when you’ve had a fright, isn’t it?" she petted Katrina's beautiful red hair. "Men and their lies. They don't even realise how bad they are at lying. How very pitiful, don't you think, little dove?"

"Now, now, darling, it is not me you should be tormenting now, is it? We both know you are simply dying to be playing around with your new little toy. I shall not be stopping you - Indulge." with a gracious twirl, the lady waltzed out of Irene Adler's embrace, and sat down on the pristine couch, smiling passively. "Don't mind me here - Pretend I don't exist."

"That, darling, we both know it's impossible." Irene smiled seductively, before turning to Sherlock. "I see why you like him - What a pretty face. Look at those cheekbones. I could cut myself slapping that face." she hummed, tilting her head to the side, addressing the man. "Would you like me to try?" she asked, snatching the collar from his shirt and biting into it very alluringly. 

As Sherlock stares up at her in confusion, John walks into the room carrying a bowl of water and a fabric napkin. His eyes are lowered to the bowl to avoid spilling its contents. "Right, this should do it." He stops dead in the doorway as he lifts his eyes and sees the scene in front of him. Irene looks round to him, the collar still in her teeth. John looks at her awkwardly, then down at the bowl before looking up again. Katrina couldn't help but sigh, watching both Irene and Sherlock clearly bothered by the interruption. "I’ve missed something, haven’t I?"

"As always." the red head coughed softly.

"Please, sit down." She steps back disappointingly from Sherlock, who fidgets uncomfortably on the sofa as she walks away. "Oh, if you’d like some tea I can call the maid."

"I had some at the Palace." Sherlock found himself compelled to speak.

"I know." Irene spoke, at the same time as Katrina. "She knows." the similarities certainly frightened the detective. "Clearly" he muttered passively.

Irene sat down on the couch next to Katrina, crossing her legs, folding her arms gracefully to obscure the view of her chest. They stare silently at each other for several seconds, weighing each other up. John looks at them awkwardly, switching from one leg to the other. "I had a tea, too, at the Palace, if anyone’s interested." his comment was successfully ignored by everyone present. Sherlock’s eyes were still fixed on Irene while he attempted to make as many deductions about her as he possibly could. His final analysis, however, bewildered him.

???????

That was impossible - There was no way -- 

Blinking in shock and panic, his eyes darted towards Katrina; He looked at her hair, her make up, that gorgeous smile of her, her impeccable outfit... And he came to the same blank conclusion. Irene and Katrina, together, were two riddles far out of his reach. Was he losing his touch? Surely, he analysed Katrina before, so why couldn't he now? Was Irene's aura overshadowing her? Thus, he tried again, from head to toe, to figure out what the two were hiding.

He came out with nothing.

Frightened, he turned towards his Doctor friend -

Neckline: Two Day Shirt Lower face: Electric, not blade Bottom of his jeans and his shoes: Date tonight John’s right eyebrow: Hasn’t phoned sister John’s lower lip: New toothbrush Underneath his eyes: Night out with Stamford Relieved that he hasn’t had a cerebral apoplexy, he slowly turned his head to look at Irene again. Narrowing his eyes slightly, he applied all his deductive reasoning as she smiled enticingly back at him, and he quickly came to the following conclusion:

???????

He frowned deeply, like a brat not allowed to play with his favourite toy.

"D’you know the big problem with a disguise, Mr Holmes?" he quirked an eyebrow at her, urging her to go on. "However hard you try, it’s always a self-portrait." "You think I’m a vicar with a bleeding face?" he asked passively. "No, I think you’re damaged, delusional and believe in a higher power. In your case, it’s yourself." she teased him mercilessly. Sherlock started unbuttoning the top two buttons of his too-tight shirt as Irene leaned forward. "Oh, and somebody loves you. Why, if I had to punch that face, I’d avoid your nose and teeth too." She glanced across to John momentarily, making the man force out a very awkward chuckle. 

"Could you put something on, please? Er, anything at all." he looks down at what he’s holding. "A napkin." he fumbled with the napkin in his hand, before trying to hand it over.

"Why? Are you feeling exposed?" not quite the same, but Irene did have fun tormenting weak men such as John Watson.

Sherlock then stood up, fixing his blazer and turning his back at Miss Adler. "I don’t think John knows where to look." he picked up his coat, shook it out and held it out towards Irene.

Ignoring him, she stood up and walked closer to John, who rolled his head on his neck uncomfortably and forced himself to maintain eye contact with her and not to let his eyes wander lower to her attractive curves. "No, I think he knows exactly where." she turned to Sherlock who was still holding out the coat while keeping his gaze averted. Irene took the coat from him, amused by his stubbornness, and put it on. "I'm not sure about you."   "If I wanted to look at naked women I’d borrow John’s laptop." he refuted like a brat.

"You do borrow my laptop." poor John shot back.

"I confiscate it." the detective huffed.

"Boys." Katrina giggled passively, yet somewhat bored of this charade.

Sherlocked started walking around the room as Irene wrapped the coat tightly around her body, plopping back on the couch and taking off her Louboutins. "Well, never mind. We’ve got better things to talk about. Now tell me – I need to know. How was it done?"

"The hiker with the bashed-in head, you mean?" Katrina turned her head at her, questioning softly. At once, both John and Sherlock looked at her, almost surprised that she was right. The case wasn't in the papers - Just what kind of connections does the Dominatrix have?

"That’s not why I’m here." Sherlock pressed harshly.

"No, no, no, you’re here for the photographs but that’s never gonna happen, and since we’re here just chatting anyway-" but John interrupted her with his shock.

"That story’s not been on the news yet. How do you know about it?" he asked perplex.

"I know one of the policemen - Well, I know what he likes."

"Oh." he interjected as he sat down next to her, as if to hear the spiciest gossip. "And you like policemen?"

"I like detective stories – and detectives. Brainy’s the new sexy." her smirk was very alluring. 

Without realising, Sherlock started pacing slowly, speaking - Almost rambling, in fact. "The position of the car relative to the hiker at the time of the backfire. That and the fact that the death blow was to the back of the head. That’s all you need to know."

"Okay, tell me: how was he murdered?" Irene asked, very excited about the case.

"It wasn't a murder case - It was an accident." Katrina hummed, patting her dress down.

Irene's eyes shifted at the demure lady with shock - So even she knew the truth? Did she figure it out all by herself, or did Sherlock tell her? Was Katrina smarter than her? Was that where she got all that strength and confidence from? "You don’t think it was murder?" "I know it wasn’t." the detective's comment left the woman speechless. "The same way that I know the victim was an excellent sportsman recently returned from foreign travel and that the photographs I’m looking for are in this room."

"Okay, but how?" the Dominatrix was truly flabbergast, especially as she saw not only Sherlock smirking down at her, but Katrina also giggling.

"You just told him." the red head answered.

"Thank you. John, man the door. Let no-one in." the two of them exchanged a look, then John got up and put the bowl and napkin on the table before leaving the room and closing the door behind him. Startled by her mistake, Irene sat up straighter, looking suspiciously at the closed door yet said nothing. "Two men alone in the countryside several yards apart, and one car."

"Oh. I – I thought you were looking for the photos now." she peered shortly towards the other woman, who simply smiled emptily.

"He is." she answered plainly. 

"You are too kind, Katrina - Didn't I tell you it will get you killed one day?" she only smiled wider. "Stop giving her so many hints - Let her think, for once, instead of catering to the whims of the pathetic and taking off her clothes to make an impression." Sherlock turned sharply towards Miss Adler. "You can stop boring me to death and think any time now - If you want to be as sexy as you claim to be." he left her speechless once again. "Now then - Are you ready to prove yourself?" he huffed, stomping his foot down. 

In his mind palace, the scene had already changed - He was no longer in Irene Adler's house, but at the crime scene, and he was the narrator. "Two men, a car, and nobody else." he crouched next to the driver’s door of the car. Inside, frozen in time, the driver's face was contorted with anger while his hands were raised, about to slam down angrily onto the steering wheel. "The driver’s trying to fix his engine. Getting nowhere." straightening up, he turned and looked into the field. "And the hiker’s taking a moment, looking at the sky." the scene changed with Sherlock appearing into the field, walking around the hiker. "Watching the birds?" rhetorical question, of course it didn't matter... Or did it, Irene thought to herself. Why would it matter what the hiker was looking at? Maybe he was admiring the sky. "Any moment now, something’s gonna happen. What?"

Irene also appeared, sitting on her sofa, watching the detective with incredible intrigue. No wonder the little dove was so smitten by him - He truly was charming. "The hiker’s going to die." she answered confidently - And wrong.

"No, that’s the result. What’s going to happen?" he asked again, making sure to emphasise the right question. Irene's confusion made the red haired lady giggle softly.

"I don’t understand." she admitted perplex, looking around, unable to find an answer.

"Then clearly, you are not nearly as sexy as you think you are, by your own words." Sherlock snarked her, before moving away. 

"The car’s going to backfire." the man nodded.

"There’s going to be a loud noise." Sherlock added to her statement. "So, what?" Irene asked. "Oh, noises are important. Noises can tell you everything." suddenly, he was back in the real world, before Irene could wake up from her reverie. "For instance..." 

At once, the smoke alarm started ringing; John had set the newspaper he rolled up on fire, waving it around the fire detection. Irene, with her heart clenched, unconsciously looked towards the large mirror above the fireplace, making the detective follow her gaze, and smirk. Simple trick, for a simple person.

"Thank you. On hearing a smoke alarm, a mother would look towards her child. Amazing how fire exposes our priorities." he walked over, tracing his fingertips gently underneath the mantel, finding a button switch, which made the mirror slide up, revealing the small safe in the wall behind it. He looked back at the desperate woman who stood up at once out of panic. "Really hope you don’t have a baby in here." he joked dramatically, before calling out to John to turn off the fire alarm - Twice, in fact.

The detective hummed, gazing deeply at the number pad. "Should always use gloves with these things, you know. Heaviest oil deposit’s always on the first key used – That’s quite clearly the three – But after that the sequence is almost impossible to read. I’d say from the make that it’s a six digit code. Can’t be your birthday – No disrespect but clearly you were born in the eighties; the eight’s barely used, so..."

"I’d tell you the code right now but you know what? I already have." It was Irene's turn to get smug and taunt the great Sherlock Holmes, with her sly smile and challenging words. "Think."

"Come on, Sherlock - It is quite elementary." Kat giggled elusively. "You are a man, are you not?"

Sherlock's confusion was disturbed by the loud sound of the door bursting open as some men got in and aimed their pistols at them; But his concern wasn't the evil-doers, but the lingering twisted expression of agony on his friend's face, as she got so startled by the obnoxiously loud noise that her wound started agonising her. These men will pay, the detective vowed to himself, clenching his jaw tightly.

"Hands behind your head." one of the men shouted at Sherlock, as the other two grabbed the two women and threw them harshly onto the ground. "On the floor! Keep it still." they pointed their guns at their heads. John was also shoved into the room, and onto the ground next to them.   "Don’t you want me on the floor too?" logically, he knew, they wanted him there, to open the safe - But his instincts were terrifying him; His instincts were telling him to fall to the ground and cradle Katrina to his chest, to protect her from the pain she was feeling as she clutched at her wound, biting her lip to tune out the excruciating pain surging through her body. How dare they rough up such a lovely lady like herself? Brutes, all of them, with no regard for British manners!

"No, sir, I want you to open the safe." at least he was somewhat polite.

"Interesting. Why would you care?" that clearly pissed the goon off.

"Sir, the safe, now, please." fake manners - American manners. Terrific.

"I don’t know the code." Sherlock spoke simply, continuing the pointless exchange of replies.

"We’ve been listening. She said she told you."

"Well, if you’d been listening, you’d know she didn’t." he shot back simply. 

"I’m assuming I missed something. From your reputation, I’m assuming you didn’t, Mr Holmes." not wrong, how annoying.

"For God’s sake. She’s the one who knows the code. Ask her." John sneered at the foreign attackers. Why was he always dragged in deathly circumstances?

"Yes, sir. She also knows the code that automatically calls the police and sets off the burglar alarm. I’ve learned not to trust this woman." ha, of course she'd have such a safety measure, Sherlock huffed to himself. At least that much.

"Mister Holmes doesn’t..." Irene was quickly silenced by the main goon who yelled at her threateningly.

"Shut up." he snapped loudly. "One more word out of you – Just one – And I will decorate that wall with the insides of your head. That, for me, will not be a hardship." he looked at one of his henchmen. "At the count of three - Shoot Doctor Watson."   "What?!" at there it went - Whenever either of the people close to him get in such danger, Sherlock starts panicking a little too badly. Sure, he always gets things done, he solves the riddles - But for how long will he be able to keep them safe? Such an insecurity lingered silently in the back of his head, tainting at his soul during every case.

"I don’t have the code!" Sherlock pressed once again.

Poor John cowers down as the goon pressed the muzzle of the pistol into the back of his neck, cocking the gun. "One."

"I don’t know the code!"

"Two."

"She didn’t tell me! I don’t know it!" his voice was raised, even shouting - Why won't he believe him?!

"I’m prepared to believe you any second now."

Sherlock looks across to Irene who lowers her gaze pointedly downwards. She was not going to speak - If she did, she could get them all killed regardless; He looked at Katrina, clutching at her abdomen - He wasn't sure if he was seeing things, of if her dress was getting slightly tainted red - Had her stitches broke?! - And he looked at John, looking down in resentment once again, like the broken soldier he was; Always ready to face death. Unacceptable.

"Three."

"No, stop!"

The goon held up his free hand to stop the henchman - John closed his eyes in temporary relief - Sherlock’s gaze became distant, unfocused, as his mind is centered onto the safe combination only; He slowly turned towards the safe and lowers his hands. As the leader watched him closely, he lethargically pressed the ‘3’ and then the ‘2’. Hesitating for a split second, he added ‘2’ and‘4’ and ended with ‘3’ and ‘4’. The safe beeps and noisily unlocks. Irene smiles in satisfaction and triumph as Sherlock sighed in relief, along with John and Katrina. Surprisingly, they were still alive.

"Thank you, Mr Holmes. Open it, please."

Twisting the lever to open the safe door, Sherlock took a quick glimpse to Irene, who lowers her gaze, tilting her head subtly.

"Vatican cameos!"

With the code spoken, John instantly threw himself to the ground as Katrina swiftly dragged herself to a safe corner - At the same moment, Sherlock pulled open the door of the safe while ducking down below the fireplace, allowing the trap-gun to shoot one of the hechmen straight through the chest; Rapidly turning and straightening up, Sherlock grabs the main goon's pistol, smashing the butt into his face, making him fall to the ground, unconscious, as Irene spins around to ruthlessly elbow the man in the crotch - Before he could get up, however, she grabbed the gun from his hands and slammed it across his face, rendering him immobile also. 

Distracted by the adrenaline and shock, Irene Adler doesn't notice the subtle thievery as Sherlock reached into the safe and pocketed its  contents, before rushing carefully to the red head's side.

"Damsel in distress once again." the girl chuckled weakly to herself.

"Admit it - You just like being carried around, don't you?" he tried to joke, though it was clear he was still panicked. Slowly, he placed his hands over hers, removing them from her torso - The material of her dress was thankfully unblemished, and his fright simply made him see things. 

Panic...? See things...? Since when was he so overly protective and concerned about the well-being of others? How peculiar - He would never -- He couldn't... Could he? The great Sherlock Holmes? "Yes, I admit, I do like being carried around - By you." speechless.

But speechless was also Irene, who looked down at the scene unfolding before her eyes - How tender Sherlock was with the little bunny, how carefully he handled her, how he talked to her so mellow; And how familiar she was with him, feeling his emotions, easing his fears, so bold and confident in her own kindness and love. Katrina was right - Her greatest power was clear for all to see, yet for very few to understand - For some, Love was their greatest weakness; For Katrina, it was her greatest strength.

"Yes, right." Sherlock cleared her throat awkwardly as he helped her up and gestured her to sit back on the comfortable sofa while he solves things around.

"Thank you. You were very observant." Irene felt the need to praise the non-chalant detective, and even more, to confuse the poor doctor. "I’m flattered.

"Don’t be." this time, the detective paid her no mind at all, as if she didn't exist whatsoever. "There’ll be more of them. They’ll be keeping a eye on the building." he took the pistol, removing the silencer and going outside to shoot into the sky to alert the authorities. Quickest way, surely. "On their way." he assured his partner, before returning inside the house to taunt the Dominatrix with the phone he stole, flipping it up in the air playfully, while John was checking the house for more intruders.

"Well, that’s the knighthood in the bag." Gulping, Irene held out her hand. "Ah. And that’s mine." 

Sherlock opened the phone, revealing the security lock - Four digits required to activate it

I AM

_ _ _ _

LOCKED

"All the photographs are on here, I presume." he smirked in triumph, seeing her panic over his victory.

"I have copies, of course." what a terrible liar.

"No you don’t. You’ll have permanently disabled any kind of uplink or connection. Unless the contents of this phone are provably unique, you wouldn’t be able to sell them." Sherlock debunked her lies. "Who said I’m selling?"

"Well, why would they be interested? Whatever’s on the phone, it’s clearly not just photographs." he replied right back.

"That camera phone is my life, Mr Holmes. I’d die before I let you take it." she walks closer and holds her hand out again. "It’s my protection."

"It was." As Katrina remains casually on the sofa, Sherlock runs up the stairs doing God knows what; John and Irene went after him. How he got poisoned - Well, it wasn't rocket science. The doctor disappeared into the hidden back door, and Katrina heard loud slaps. Chuckling, she made her way into the room, seeing a semi-conscious Sherlock on the ground, being slapped and whipped with the riding crop so mercilessly; It only made the red head chuckle, alerting the Dominatrix.

"Are you not going to stop me, little dove? I thought, for sure, you were the vanilla type - Or, perhaps, I was wrong?" Miss Adler looked over to the princess leaning on the frame of the door.

"What I am into is no-one's concern, is it, Miss Irene?" she hummed softly. "Likewise, what Sherlock is into, is none of mine - So do continue. He probably won't remember by the time he wakes up." she continued. "It is, in fact, quite funny seeing him like this, all things considered."   "Perhaps a little rope bunny, instead?" Katrina simply smiled a little wider.

"I will leave that up to your imagination." she said. "May we meet each other under better circumstances, Miss Irene Adler. You are truly a remarkable woman, and I admire you for who you are. I pray you remain safe and sound."

"Was it a boomerang?" she asked, earning a nod from the girl. "Did you figure it out yourself?" she nodded once again. "No wonder you are so special to him. Sherlock Holmes doesn't see you as he sees everyone else." that statement simply earned a silent, sad smile of resignation and acceptance from the lady. Irene smiled wry, a little defeated by all the unexpected kindness received from such a bright person. Her goodness was like a plague. She couldn't stand it - It burnt and blistered a shadowy woman like herself. "You deserve better than him." her voice was mild, almost pitiful. "Alas, a fool in love in destined to get repeatedly hurt to the end of times." she stepped towards the open window. "That emotion you are feeling for Sherlock..." Irene began, sitting on the pane. "Is the most frightening thing I have ever experienced in my entire life." and thus, she disappeared from the building.   Katrina slowly stept next to Sherlock, kneeling down and cradling him to her chest; She smiles softly, humming and petting his hair. "It truly is frightening, Irene. You are right." in spite of his delirium, the detective could still hear her voice, the only thing somewhat keeping him in this world - Before darkness took him over.

John returned to the room shortly after, and his heart sunk at the view. "Don't worry, it's just a simple drug. He'll be awake in a few hours. Let's get home, John. We deserve a good rest." with some help, the two carried Sherlock to a police car, and they drove back to 221B Baker Street.

"How did he know the key code? Was it only from the oil deposit on the key pad?" John asked, only to see Kat shake her head, gently placing the detective on the bed.

"Irene appeared before Sherlock naked for a few reasons - She wanted to intimidate him, so see his personality, to see if he falters in front of a naked woman - And more, she was taunting him, testing him..." she chuckled, pressing a soft kiss on his forehead before placing the blanket over him. "She showed him the code - Her body - A woman's measurements." John remained with his jaw agape in realisation, watching as the red head graciously walked out of the room, back into her apartment to rest for the remainder of the day. 

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[darkdevasofdestruction]

Do you write for Fatgum in Bnha

Sure, why not ✌🏻

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Hi i was wondering if you still did matchups for characters?

Hey, thanks for asking :)

No, I don't really do match-ups anymore, unless it's a special occasion or sth, because when I had them open as request, it was the only thing people ever wanted, and it was exhausting =/

[darkdevasofdestruction]

It's been a year since the last gow chapter dropped, I feel old 😭

Honestly... Me too sis. Me too. *all joints and bones crack and crick like an old goat*

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Mine, Always and Forever ~ Ramsay Bolton x Stark!Reader

Small disclaimer: It's Ramsay we're talking about; The story will have heavy dark themes and scenes that might make you uncomfortable.

Summary: Ramsay's obsession has always been Lady Y/N Stark, since the very moment they were children, and up into their adulthood. Everything he does, he does for her. He would burn the whole world to see her in his arms again, desperately needing him again. Ramsay Snow was going to trample over every noble house known to Westeros, just to gain the right to claim the little she-wolf that encaptured him in her spell.

Y/N was looking down at Sandor Clegane, wearing a conflicted yet highly determined look on her face; He, however, was smirking, he was amused to the point of barking a laugh in her face. His large hands kept a strong grip on her hips to keep her comfortably on his lap.

"Anyone told you you're one crazy lady, little fox?" the disfigured man teased the red haired Stark lady; Her long nails were digging harshly into his shoulders.

"Yes." she said deadpan. "Let them say whatever. As long as I get out of here, I don't care."

"You want me to risk my neck, to get you out of King's Landing. That's bold, even for you." his fingers dug painfully into her flesh. "And you think giving me your maidenhood's gonna sweeten me into losing my life, is that it?"

"Don't flatter yourself, Sandor. I'm only here because you're the only trust-worthy person in this pit of vipers." she hissed at him. "My maidenhood is not yours to take, nor am I giving it away to anyone except the man I've been in love with since I was eleven winters old."

"Sentimentalism won't get you anywhere, girl." he scoffed, finally pushing you off him to tumble on the hard ground. "And neither will you fleeing. Everything is surveilled by the Lions."

"Robb is at the Twins. If I get there, I can return home to Winterfell. I am the oldest - Someone must take care of our home." Y/N got up, her long red hair a beautiful mess all around her. "Sandor, I need you. Please. What do you need me to do? Beg you? I will beg you, if that's what you want."

"Tell me who's that poor bastard." Y/N looked at him confused, but dragged a chair by the bed and sat down.

"Roose Bolton's bastard, Ramsay Snow." her voice was serene and casual. "You know, that crazy guy who gets off on flaying living people."

"I'm beginning to think someone slammed your head against a wall. Girl, you're deranged." she shrugged her shoulders, as if to say she doesn't care much. "Does anyone know about him?"

"My dad used to know I had a thing for Ramsay - Obviously, we didn't speak much about it. If mother found out I was head over heels over a lowly bastard from a disgusting family like the Boltons... Well, I wouldn't hear the end of it." she laughed dryly. "Mother would be very disappointed to know that all of her girls have terrible taste in men - Take Sansa for example, falling for an old dog like you... And, to be fair, I don't think Arya even has a taste for men at all, if you catch my drift."

"The little bird won't sing me sweet thrills." he huffed under his breath. "Convince me, and I'll think about helping you get out of your cage."

"Let's see... It all began many years ago, when I had just passed my eleventh year alive, and my father took me to the Dreadfort for business with Roose Bolton..."

The Stark party arrived on horse-back after many hours of uncomfortable riding through the snow and cold; Eddard was afraid his little girl would get ill - Cat had told him many times not to take her - But he couldn't refuse Y/N's pleading. She was eleven years of age, and behaving very much like how Lyanna used to. Y/N might favour her Tully side, with scarlet hair shining like red copper in the Sun, and light eyes that peered deep into your soul - But at heart, she was a valiant and loyal Wolf.

The forest hiding the Dreadfort was thick, yet beautiful, though in no way could it compare to the woods around Winterfell. It was a warm Spring afternoon, with the flowers in bloom; the sky was blue and embellished with a few lazy clouds, and the breeze was gently rustling through Y/N's long scarlet locks.

Lord Bolton was awaiting the Stark retinue; He took Ned aside to guide him into his council room to speak business; The servants were guided into the Fort to be houses; And Y/N remained trugging behind, looking around and exploring with the curiosity of a little fox.

It was then that she spotted that brunet runt with eyes like crystal icicles; He was staring intently at her from behind a tree. Y/N knew who that was - Ramsay Snow, the bastard of Roose Bolton. Her dad mentioned him, and told her to be nice to him. Of course she was gonna be nice to him - She loves Jon and treats him just like her younger brother, because that's what he is!

With a bow and quiver attached to her back, Y/N stepped towards the boy, extending her hand towards him. "You are Ramsay Snow, aren't you?" the boy looked at her, soulless, but grumbled affirmatively. "I'm Y/N. Want to come help me out with my archery?" he looked at her as if she was crazy; Y/N let out an impatient sigh, and turned on her heel. "You know the woods better than I do - I am sure you will find me once you remember how to move your feet. Left foot, right foot, and repeat."

She thus wandered into the forest, looking for a place to practice her archery; It didn't take long before she heard the noise of rapid footsteps approaching. Ramsay stood right behind her, his demeanour guarded, cold and wary - Typical for that of a mistreated bastard.

"See? I told you you'd find me easily." she let out a soft chuckle, turning her back to him and fidgeting with her bow.

The boy didn't answer immediately, unsure of how to respond to the noble girl. He’d been taught to keep his distance from highborns, especially someone like her, the daughter of the Warden of the North... But there’s something different about her, something that doesn’t seem to care about the invisible lines that separate them, about ranks or blood.

"How did you know who I am?" he asked in a low voice.

"What, Bolton's bastard son?" Ramsay flinched slightly at the word, but Katrina’s tone is curious rather than cruel. She steps closer, studying him with those sharp, Stark eyes. He nods, unsure of what to expect from her. "Dad told me to be as nice to you as I am with my own bastard younger brother. Jon is a delight to have around, truly - Too bad mother can't see that." she shrugged her shoulders lazily. "You don't talk much, do you?"

"I don't know how to speak to noble ladies... My Lady." he admitted begrudgingly. "Nobles aren't supposed to see a bastard like me."

"Well, you can start by calling me by my name - Y/N - And then, you can continue by coming with me and helping me out with my archery." she grinned, and before Ramsay could react, she grabbed his wrist and tugged him along, her energy infectious. Ramsay stumbled slightly, caught off guard by her boldness, but he didn’t resist. For once, he didn't protest to being dragged around - He enjoyed the physical touch from her.

"Where are you taking me?" the boy found himself speaking a little louder.

"Deeper into the forest! I need someone to help me practice. I can't hit anything if I don't have someone to fetch the arrows."

Ramsay blinked, bewildered by how casually she dismissed the divide between them. He’d never been treated like this before — Like he’s just another boy, not the bastard son of Roose Bolton. And yet, there’s something exciting about the way she was pulling him along, like he was a part of her adventure rather than an outsider.

They reached a small clearing in the woods. Katrina lets go of his wrist and unslinged her bow, not wasting any time. She lines up an arrow, but her aim is slightly off. The arrow flies past the tree trunk she was aiming at and disappears into the underbrush.

"Damn it!" Y/N stomped her foot impatiently. "This is all Robb's fault! If he hadn't told on me, I would have been able to train with Theon!" she whined so cutely, the bastard thought with amusement, watching her look around aimlessly for that arrow. "Great, it's lost. Only four left I guess." she grumbled to herself with resentment.

Ramsay hesitated for a moment, before rushing toward the underbrush. He found the arrow easily enough and returned it to her, watching as her eyes widened in awe.

"You found it - And so easily! How cool!" no one had ever praised him before - It felt really good. "You know how to shoot?" he nodded his head. "Can you teach me?"

The boy stepped to her side, raising her arms up and placing her in position. Without even realising, his hands lingered on her body; He was enjoying touching her so much, and she wasn't protesting, too focused on holding the bow and arrow properly with those small, delicate hands of hers. She was so very cute, he thought to himself, as he positioned himself in a way that almost engulfed her whole.

"You’re holding it wrong." he muttered into her ear. "Follow the trajectory of my finger - Focus on the target and hold the tip of the arrow a little above the spot you want to hit. Draw the string with an inhale, and release with an exhale." he then fixed the angle of her drawing arm. "Boys won't tell you this, but girls have this small curvature of the arm - To aim properly, you'd have to arch your arm like this... And it will improve your accuracy." he then kicked a little at her feet, getting them in position. "Posture is half the work; Stand straight... And release."

With all points ticked, Y/N released the arrow, and lodged itself close to where it was supposed to reach; It hit the tree trunk, which was all that mattered for a beginner. "Wow! Robb will be so jealous when I beat him at archery next time!" her voice went up cutely as she chirped with excitement, almost bouncing on the spot with glee. "Thank you, Ramsay, thank you!" huh... She thanked him. What a peculiar girl.

"Don't thank me until you win." he teased her. "Try again - Without my help this time." that comment stopped her in her little joy party. Right, Ramsay won't be there to help her. Damn.

Regaining posture, Y/N drew the bowstring back, feeling the difference in her stance. She released the arrow, and this time it hit the tree trunk with a satisfying thud. She did that, all by herself! She grinned, turning to Ramsay with a look of triumph and victory.

"Was that cool?!" was she asking for validation - From him?!

"Yes, My Lady, you did well." she didn't seem to notice the way he called her; She was far too absorbed into her success and practice.

Ramsay smiled for the first time in his life; a small, hesitant smile that Y/N almost missed - But she caught it, and something about that moment made her feel like she’d cracked through a layer of ice.

For once, the boy felt at ease around another human being, even if that person was an eleven year old brazen noble lady who tried to best her younger brothers at silly things like archery and swordsmanship. Wasn't she supposed to learn embroidery and other girly things? Well, now that he thought it over, Ramsay was sure most noble Lords wouldn't take their daughters with them on delegations; They'd take their sons, right? It only meant Lord Stark loved his daughter very much, he noted. Not that he'd know what that was - Surely, the little haughty thing was going to forget all about him.

As the sun began to set, Ramsay realised he had to escort the young lady back, before either her father worries, or his father thinks he murdered her. That bloody monster - He hated his father more than he hated anyone alive. He was going to get the most miserable death there is.

For dinner, however, Ramsay wasn't allowed to sit at the table with the nobles; Y/N's mother also didn't want Jon to sit with the rest of the children... So in that regard, she could understand the miserable, spiteful look on Ramsay's face. It was Y/N and Robb who begged their dad to allow Jon and Theon to eat with them... But Y/N was afraid of Roose Bolton and his terrifying icy glare - He was empty, and ruthless, just like a harsh blizzard.

In a way, Y/N was glad they'll only be staying one more night in this awful place... But she would dearly miss her new friend. She wonders if she'll ever see him again - Hopefully, yes!

The night settled swiftly over the cold stone halls of the Dreadfort - The place was deathly silent, save for the scary howling wind and the occasional flicker of torchlight casting long, terrifying shadows all around.

Ramsay was lying on the bed, half-asleep, and thinking over the events of the day - His mind was obsessively settled on the young noble lady who treated him so well, who smiled so sweetly at him... Who felt so good in his arms. He loved how she dragged him all around, and grinned so enthusiastically; How she thanked him for helping her with archery... In his perverse mind, he wanted to bury his hands in that gorgeous mess of long red hair and pull her into his arms, never to let go ever again; He wanted to squish her in his arms until she explode, that's how cute she was; He wanted to slam his lips against hers and kiss her until she had no more air in her lungs, and her body was bruised and imprinted with his hands all over.

Not once did he expect to hear the heavy door of his sparsely furnished cold room creaking open, revealing the very girl he was fantasising over, wearing a thick nightgown and holding tightly a fur-lined cloaked draped over her small shoulders; Her wild hair was even more tousled than before.

The air is cold, a reminder of the unforgiving northern weather. Ramsay’s small, sparsely furnished room is dimly lit by a single candle on the bedside table. She waited for a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, before walking in - The boy, already on edge, bolted right up, startled by the sudden intrusion. His first thought was that an assassin was trying to get him, or his father wanted to beat him half to death -

But no. It was the object of his obsessions. Y/N stepped forward, letting the dim light of the fireplace reveal her nervous face. The boy's stiffness melted away, and he leaned forward to look at her.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice as cold as that of his father.

Y/N offered a small, sheepish smile, pulling the cloak tighter around her shoulders as she moved closer to his bed. "I don't like sleeping alone. It's cold and scary here." she said, moving her bare feet closer to the bed. "Can I sleep in your room... Please?"

Ramsay blinked in shock, still processing her presence. It was not every day that a noble’s daughter sneaked into his room in the middle of the night, asking to spend the night. He shifted, making space on the bed as Y/N climbed on... The sheep walked right into the wolf's den.

"I thought noble ladies weren't allowed alone in a room with a boy - A lowly bastard, no less. Who knows what I'll do to you." she looked at him all confused and innocent - Of course she had no idea what he was talking about; No one tells noble ladies what men want to do to them... How they want to ravage them...

"No one has to know I am here." she smiled sweetly. "Besides - I had something for you." all of his wicked thoughts dispersed on the spot, thinking what it could be that she brought - For him! He felt a weird warmth spread through his chest - And much below also; He watched attentively as Y/N revealed a small tray filled with desserts from inside her cloak - All the sweet desserts a bastard son like him wasn't allowed to eat, from the dinner he wasn't allowed to attend.

"I am sorry... Your father scared me too much... I was too much of a coward to ask him to let you dine with us." she said in a tender, guilty voice, placing the plate on the bed for him to try out the cakes. "At home, mother doesn't want to see Jon and Theon, our ward, eat with us... So I and Robb begged dad to let them eat with us, and he agreed." she messed up her already rousled hair. "Forgive me."

Ramsay looked deep into her eyes, making her look away with a blush; She didn't seem to like holding eye-contact, he realised; He was intimidating her with his usually cold and empty expression - Just like his father. She was afraid of his father - And rightfully so; But he didn't want her to be afraid of him too; He wanted Lady Y/N to like him, to love him, to want him and only him.

"It's a man's job to protect his woman, Y/N, not the other way around." he let out a small, sardonic chuckle. "I can't blame you for being scared of my Lord Father. I know he can look rather... Intimidating."

"But... It's not right... And regardless of the circumstances of your birth, you should not be treated any less. You deserve better than this." Ramsay's body grew ever hotter the more she spoke, and were it not for his self-control, who knows what he would have done to this little fox girl. She was far too cute for her own good... Far too nice... And nice girls always end up the worst, because of monsters like him.

But it was fine. He was a monster, but he would protect her. His mind was settled - Y/N was his, and only his.

"Are you not cold?" she asked all of a sudden; He had forgotten he was wearing no shirt, and his body was in full view. She was worried about him, how cute of her.

"I am a man of the North, Y/N. This is how I sleep every night." he let himself fall back on the bed, casually eating some of those little cakes. "You're just cold because you're a girl, and you're all frail and mellow. You need a man's heat to keep you warm through the night." he ended with a cocky smirk addressed her way.

"Is that so?" she hummed softly. "Prove to me that you are right, then." how cheeky she was, Ramsay thought to himself, watching with shock as the little vixen laid herself so carefree in his arms; Her hand was placed comfortably on his shoulder, and she nestled herself on his side. "Keep me warm."

"What a playful little minx." he scoffed, watching her so cutely clinging to his body. He reveled in the silence broken only by him enjoying the cakes she brought over, and soon enough, in her rhythmic slow breathing - She had fallen asleep so easily, he was truly mesmerised. She was so cute and little compared to him, he realised once again.

As the candle flickered and the night deepened, Ramsay stood awake for a little while longer, his mind racing with wild thoughts and feeling he's never experienced before. Eventually, however, the warmth of her presence lulled him into a deep, dreamless sleep, yet holding a small smile of triumph on his face.

The very next day, early in the morning, Lady Y/N sneaked out of Ramsay's room and went back into her own so no one would suspect a thing. She received breakfast in bed and her maid helped her dressed and get ready for another exciting day spent with Ramsay.

This time, the bastard thought he'd show off - He brought her to the kennels to his the hounds. It was his idea to raise dogs to hunt and guard the place and what not; The kennel master was a middle-aged man full of experience... But his daughter was an annoying little girl around his age. She wanted to appear strong and rough around him... To show off. Why, he couldn't quite understand - He was pretty sure girls this age weren't so interested in boys and their bodies - Unlike boys wanting desperately to see girls naked.

Lady Y/N was cheeky, yes, but she was gracious also; Myranda, on the other hand, was a disgrace... A disgrace that Ramsay loved to humiliate. Unfortunately for him, it seemed that she also enjoyed that kind of treatment in a rather profound way.

The kennels were dark and chilly, filled with low rumbles and growls, and the smell of straw and wet dog fur. The light filtered through narrow, creaked windows... Y/N didn't think it was a nice place for dogs to stay at, but at least they were protected from the snow, wind and cold outside.

Much to Ramsay's dismay, Myranda was there, tending to the dogs and snapping at them every once in a while; She wasn't stern - She was harsh and cruel; The exact opposite of Lady Stark, who had a natural affinity for animals, and the gift of warmth and compassion to all living beings.

With a protective arm holding Y/N firm into his chest, he showed off his dogs; Most of them were females, large, with long fur, and highly aggressive. "What do you think about my bitches, Y/N? They make the best hunters, not the mutts." he spoke cockily. "And they know to obey only their master."

Y/N's visage was tender and soft; With no fear, she approached one of the dogs who had just given birth, and her puppies were sucking at her teats. She knelt by her side; The dog's menacing growls all but dissipated once she sniffed the lady's hand, allowing her to pet her head.

"What a gorgeous mommy you are, darling! Oh, but you must be cold - Your little ones too!" Y/N took off her cloak, draping her mother dog nicely in it. "There - Isn't it better? Nice and toasty!"

Ramsay watched the interaction with a mix of shock and fascination - He was so used to commanding the dogs through fear and dominance, that he hadn't expected the dogs to listen so quickly to a gentle word. Was it the Wolf's blood coursing through her veins that made her a canine whisperer? Or was it simply that sweet voice of her that bewitched even him? "I’ve never seen them act like that. They usually tear anyone apart who gets too close."

Y/N smiled sweetly, scratching the dog behind her ears, completely at ease. "They’re just like people, but trust-worthy and reliable. If you show them kindness, they’ll return it. They’re not so different from us, really."

Before Ramsay can respond, a harsh voice cut through the air. Myranda, holding a leash, stood at the other end of the kennel, glaring at Y/n with undisguised jealousy. She tugged on the leash, yanking a dog that was already straining against her rough grip. "They’re not pets, they’re beasts. You can’t trust them with soft words, or they’ll turn on you. That one already bit me once."

The dog on the leash cowered, her tail between her legs as Myranda yanked it towards her. Y/N frowned, rising to her feet. The bastard didn't think even a small, little girl like her could hold such an undeniable presence and imposing aura. "Maybe if you weren’t so harsh, they wouldn’t bite. They’re only reacting to how you treat them."

Myranda’s face flushed with anger, her grip tightening on the leash. She sneered at Y/N, her eyes dark with resentment and spite. "What would you know about it? You’re just a spoiled little brat who doesn’t understand anything about the real world." How dare that obnoxious slut speak like that to his darling little fox? She was his - His only - And no one was allowed to treat her like this. Ramsay, sensing the tension, steps forward. His expression shifts, a cold smirk curling his lips as he looked at Myranda, enjoying the sudden shift in her demeanour; Immediately meek and pathetic. It was time to put her back in her place.

"Watch your tongue, Myranda. What's the filthy peasant daughter of the kennel master, compared to the Wolf Lady herself?" he hissed at the girl who immediately went quiet; She flinched at his harsh tone, her eyes were wide and hurt. She was used to his cruel streak, but it still stung in the sweetest way... But to be scolded like that in front of that little whore...

"I... I didn’t mean anything by it, Ramsay. I just—" she was at a loss for words; Her mind was empty as always, the boy remarked spitefully.

"Didn't mean anything, you say - Any other noble would have your tongue for speaking ill of Lady Y/N Stark; You should fall on your knees and seek forgiveness. She is graceful, don't you think? If it were me, well... We both know what I like to do with disobedient cunts like you, don't you, Myranda?" his gargoyle eyes stared emptily into her own tearful eyes; Somewhere lower, she noticed the subtle way the bastard showed off a small knife that she knew very well was used to flay. She gulped, hanging her head low, and trembling pathetically. "I'm waiting, Myranda - Where is that apology?"

As Myranda bit her lip, holding back the tears of her weakness, Y/N sighed, walking in front of her; Though Y/N was smaller than her, she still placed her hand gently on her hand. "It's fine - She's not wrong. I couldn't possibly be knowledgeable in dogs than someone who was raised in the arts of dog-raising. The only difference is the approach - I have a different approach in caring for my animals, and it has proven far more reliable than ruling with an iron fist." her voice was soft and tender. "Raise your head. No need to ask for forgiveness. Just make sure they are all well taken care of." with a graceful twirl, Y/N turned to her friend and hooked her arm to his, guiding him out into the forest.

"If I was in her place, I'd have shot you when you turned your back at me." he grumbled harshly under his breath.

"She wouldn't have dared, and neither would you - Not for as long as I am Lady Stark, and mine own Lord Father is here, on the very premises... Not unless you want to meet a fate worse than death." oh, that wicked smirk of her, so different than anything sweet and tender she embodied thus far; The twisted grin of a rabid fox, not the sweet smile of a flower.

"What would you know, the little flower knows how to play to her political strength. How adorable." he huffed, pulling her into his side harshly. "Politics aside, you are still just a frail little thing that can break so easily... It would be a pity if anyone did anything to hurt you..."

"So what, you are saying you want to protect me?" she scoffed at him; Though her question was genuine, and his answer even more so.

"Yes." once they were deep into the forest, he held her in a painfully tight embrace, his face buried in the crook of her neck; She smelled sweet, like honey and flowers... It only made him want to taste her even more. "Always, and forever."

Just like the previous night, Y/N had snuck out of her room again, her small feet padding silently across the cold stone floor. The Dreadfort, with its bleak atmosphere, had never bothered her, not with Ramsay nearby. Tonight, though, was different. It was her last night here, and the thought of leaving him behind made her heart ache in a way she couldn’t quite understand. Ramsay was her friend, and though the Dreadfort wasn't too far away from Winterfell, it was unbecoming of a young Lady to go out of her way to visit a bastard... She wouldn't be allowed to.

She slipped into Ramsay’s room, finding him lying on his bed, shirtless, his dark eyes gleaming as he watched her approach, just like a predator seeing delicious prey walk willingly inside his lair.

“You’re not supposed to be here, little fox.” he drawled, the nickname slipping from his lips with ease.

Y/N rolled her eyes, though a small pout formed on her lips as she climbed in bed next to him. “I don’t care. It’s too cold in my room, and I don’t want to be alone.”

Ramsay smirked, propping himself up on one elbow. He was shirtless again. “Afraid of the dark, are we?” His tone was teasing, but his eyes held an intensity that belied his playful words.

She stuck her tongue out at him but nodded nonetheless, crossing her arms over her chest. "I am used to sleeping with my siblings."

"Fine, fine, little rose, I won't tease you about it - After all, you've come to seek my protection; How can I tease a lovely little lady such as yourself." she blushed softly at her new nickname, looking away but said nothing. “You know, sweetling..." Ramsay began, his voice dripping with mischief. “Did you know there are things that boys and girls do together when they’re older. Things you wouldn’t even imagine.” he leaned closer to her body, his bare chest against her back; His hand found itself playing with a velvety lock of red hair - It was quite addicting. SHE was addicting.

Y/N turned her head a little to look at him, her brows furrowing in confusion. “What do you mean, Ramsay?”

His grin widened, enjoying the way her innocent mind struggled to grasp the meaning behind his words... His intentions. “Oh, nothing you’d understand now...” he said, his tone teasing. “But one day, when you’re older… I could teach you.”

Y/N tilted her head, still perplexed. “Teach me what?”

Ramsay leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “What boys and girls do together when they’re alone. It’s something… Special.”

She blinked at him, her confusion deepening. “Like playing games?”

He chuckled, a dark sound that made her shiver despite the warmth of his presence. "I suppose... A game only for grown-ups.”

Katrina pouted, feeling as though he was making fun of her. “I’m not that young, Ramsay. Mother said I am old enough to flower soon - That makes me an adult in the eyes of the noble families.”

He reached out, brushing a lock of her hair behind her ear, his touch lingering a little too long. “And when that time comes, sweetling, I’ll make sure you know everything.”

The thought of Y/N flowering soon... The thought of making her his own... It made his body all hot and greedy. Some day, when she becomes a woman, he wanted to be the one to claim her; Her one and only; The only man she ever looks at. But he was a bastard, and she was the eldest daughter of the Stark Family... How the hell could he make her his, forever?

It was a maddening thought... That his bastard label would keep him away from her. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. There was no way any man would be capable of taking care of her the way only HE could. No one could make her as happy as he can. No one can understand her the way he does.

She stared at him, unsure of what to say. There was something in his tone, something she didn’t quite understand, but it made her feel uneasy... But also, enticed. Curious. Addicted. Still, she trusted him. He was her friend, after all... And will forever be her friend... Whether he wants to or not. What Lady Y/N Stark wanted, she got, even if she had to force the hands of fate to achieve her goals.

Ramsay, noticing the uncertainty in her eyes, decided to push her just a little further. “You should just enjoy being a little girl, for now, all innocent and pure like a dove. Don’t worry about what happens when you’re older.” he hummed, his low, husky voice, whispering in her ear, making her shudder and blush. "I'll take care of everything."

Katrina huffed, turning her face away from him. “You’re always saying things I don’t understand.”

He laughed softly, the sound sending a strange thrill through him. He sneaked his arms around her body, pulling her into his chest; One hand was holding strongly onto her small body, while the other held her jaw, firm but gentle. “Noble men don't know horseshite about these things - They're all stupid, but have the pride of lions and cockiness like no other. They think they know the game well, but they are shamefully bad... And without an experienced man to teach them, you, noble ladies, are all cute and confused, losing the game...” ah, tsk tsk, bad Ramsay, he was talking too much when he shouldn't... Not now.

She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest in defiance. “You’re just trying to confuse me.” she huffed, quite like a brat, getting out of his clutches and drawing the blanket over her.

Ramsay watched her for a moment, his smirk fading as he realized she was serious about ignoring him. She couldn't ignore her. She wasn't allowed to. She was supposed to look at him with those beautiful eyes of hers - To look at him, and only him.

The silence stretched on, and something dark and possessive flared up inside him. He hated being ignored, especially by her. Desperate for her attention, he threw the blanket off of her, pinning her down on the bed before she could react. He straddled her waist, his hands holding her wrists above her head as he loomed over her.

Y/N gasped in surprise, her wide eyes locking with his - Finally, she was looking at him. For a moment, neither of them moved, the air between them charged with something neither could name.

Ramsay’s smirk returned - He enjoyed looking down at her like that, her face all innocent and confused, so damn precious. "Ramsay...?" don't talk to him in that sweet voice... Don't... He'll lose control... He will...

To stop his own wicked thoughts and urges, he started tickling her sides mercilessly. Y/N squealed, her laughter filling the room as she squirmed beneath him, trying in vain to escape his grasp. This wasn't any better, he noted; It only made him more desperate to touch her, to hold her... To...

“Ramsay, stop!” she begged, her voice breathless with laughter - He only tickled her harder, delighting in her helplessness. There was something so special about ignoring such lovely pleas.

In her desperate attempts to defend herself, Y/N’s nails raked across his arm, deep enough to draw blood. Ramsay hissed at the sharp sting, letting out a surprising sound of pleasure... Surprising even for him... but he didn’t stop tickling her until she was breathless and teary-eyed from laughing and her body aching for freedom and mercy.

Finally, he relented, looking down at her with a mixture of amusement and something darker... Victory, triumph... Y/N panted, her chest heaving as she caught her breath - Yet her eyes widened when she saw the red lines on his arm, painting his pale arm a lovely shade of crimson red.

“Ramsay...! I’m sorry - I'm so sorry, I didn’t mean to!” she shot up, her voice small as she reached out to touch the scratch she had left.

Ramsay caught her hand, his grip firm but not painful. He looked at the blood, then at her, a strange expression on his face. “It’s nothing.” he said, though the intensity in his gaze made her heart flutter with unease. “Just a mark... A precious little reminder.”

“A reminder? Of what?” she asked, confused, watching him lick the blood leaking down his skin.

His smirk returned, though there was something almost possessive in his eyes. “That you, little Kitten, are all mine, and only mine; Even when you leave, you’ll still be mine." he wiped some of the blood his his thumb, and unexpectedly, he pressed it gently against her bottom lip - Pink turning red - Then a little inside, touching her tongue. "You want us to be together, don't you, My Lady?" he got closer to her face, now both hands cupping her small face carefully. "Always and forever."

"Yes... I want us to be friends... Forever." he wanted to kiss those plump dewy lips so bad, but he couldn't; Not not. She was driving him crazy... A twisted child with nefarious cravings and desires... And all his obsessions channeled into a single being... A precious little kitten who loves to scratch him. "Always and forever." he kissed her forehead gently, almost as if he was sealing an unspoken vow between them.

The bastard of Dreadfort wasn't happy to see his cute little kitten leave; But he couldn't do anything about it - Not yet. He lingered in the back, far away, and watched as her horse disappeared into the horizon. He knew it was going to be an awful day for him. He just knew.

The atmosphere was terrible all around the fort, heavy with the chill of winter and the unspoken tension that has settled over the castle. Ramsay remained in his small room, reflecting on the recent visit, the fleeting moments of warmth with Lady Y/N still fresh in his mind.

Every time his mind lingered back on their closeness, his body grew all hot and restless; He felt himself going crazy, needing to touch himself to relieve the pressure building inside his stomach; His core was all knots and ache.

He couldn't though... He couldn't... He had to hold on... It wasn't night yet, and he risked anyone barging inside his room... But he needed her so badly... Her scorching touch on his ice-cold skin... Those sweet, soft rose petal lips on his rough, chapped ones... Her small body, all cute and frail under his own... At his mercy...

His rapid thoughts were interrupted by the sound of heavy footsteps approaching his room. His heart quickened even more, a sense of dread creeping in. He knew what was going to happen, and he dreaded every second of it.

The door opened, and Roose Bolton stepped inside, his expression as unreadable as ever... But Ramsay knew better than to trust the calm before the storm.

"Do you have anything you wish to tell me, Ramsay?" those harsh eyes bore silently into him, carving his heart out.

"No... Father." he muttered under his breath, getting off the bed and standing in front of his father, his head hung, but jaw clenched in anger and humiliation.

"Is that so?" the boy remained quiet. "I’ve heard... Things, Ramsay. Things I don’t like."

Ramsay tensed, his eyes meeting his father’s cold, manipulative gaze. He knew what was coming, and though he’s experienced his father’s wrath before, the dread never really faded. He tried to stand taller, to show no weakness, but the apprehension was clear in his voice.

"Lady Y/N wanted to talk to me. She was bored with no child her age around, so she dragged me to be her companion. I couldn't refuse the daughter of Lord Eddard Stark..." he couldn't refuse her even if he wanted to; He was desperate for her attention, after all. It was only by luck that he captured her attention so easily - And by fate, he will continue aligning with her, no matter what obstacles jump in his way.

Roose’s eyes narrowed, his expression hardening. He stepped closer, his presence looming over the subject of his deepest disappointments and shame, who instinctively took a step back. "In case you've forgotten - You’re a lowly bastard, Ramsay. You might be my son by blood, but you will never be a Bolton in the eyes of the world." he spat at his son who flinched habitually. "Your place is not with the likes of her. You forget yourself too easily. We are lucky Lord Stark didn't have your head for tainting his precious daughter's air."

The words cut deep into his heart, a reminder of the bitter truth Ramsay always tried to ignore... But this time, they stung more than usual, because for a moment, Y/N made him believe he could be something more.

"Lady Y/N said Lord Stark agreed to allow the bastard and the ward to dine at the same table as his legitimate children. They treat them like their own flesh and blood..." the words slipped out before he could stop them, and he immediately regretted his impertinence. Roose’s expression darkened further, his patience wearing thin.

"You fool - How dare you fall in love with a noblewoman?! You think Lord Stark would ever allow his eldest daughter to marry some filthy low-life like you and take his riches? His noble name? Have you lost your mind, child? This is not how I raised you." his voice boomed painfully through the echoing empty stone walls of his room. "Love and foolishness are weakness, Ramsay, and I will not tolerate either in my son."

Before Ramsay could react, Roose’s hand struck him, delivering a sharp backhand across Ramsay’s face - The force of the blow sent him stumbling, crashing into the bedside table, the candle tumbling to the floor. Pain spread across his cheek, but it was nothing compared to the humiliation that followed as Roose grabbed him by the neck, dragging him back to his feet.

"You are my son, Ramsay, and you will do as I say. I will not have you ruin yourself over foolish maiden dreams of love and marriage . You are a tool, nothing more - And I will carve you into something useful, no matter how much you resist." Ramsay tried to fight back, to push against his father’s grip, but he was no match for Roose’s strength and iron grip.

The beating that followed was brutal, each strike a lesson in obedience, in submission, a reminder of the cruelty that defines his existence. He tried not to cry out, to show no weakness - And he did just that. Ramsay utter no sound through it all.

When Roose finally released him, Ramsay crumpled to the floor, gasping for air, his body battered and bruised. Roose looked down at him, his expression harsh and unforgiving.

"Remember this, Ramsay - You are nothing but my bastard son, and you will learn your place, or I will teach it to you until you understand."

Roose left the room, the door slamming shut behind him. Ramsay was left alone, the echoes of his father’s words ringing in his ears, the pain throbbing through his body. He remained there, motionless on the ground and growling like a rabid animal.

Hours passed before Ramsay finally moved, dragging himself back onto the bed, wincing with every motion. He stares at the ceiling, his mind a whirlwind of emotions — Anger, shame, dread.

He thought of Y/N, of her kindness, of the way she treated him like he was worth something. That memory was a lifeline, something to hold onto in the darkness, but it was also a source of pain, a reminder of what he can never have...

He clenched his fists, the pain in his body overshadowed by the rage building inside him. He hated his father, hated the world that condemned him to this life, hated the fact that he was born a bastard - But most of all, he hated that he cared — That he yearned for something more, something better.

"I will make them pay." the words were whispered into the darkness, a promise to himself. "I will kill them all." he punched the ground with his fist until it became a bloody mess - Yet he felt no pain at all, only wrath.

He knew he couldn't change the circumstances of his birth, but he could at least take control of his life. He could become what his father wanted — A lethal weapon - But he will do so on his terms; And one day, when he has the power to make sure no one ever hurts him again, he will walk forward to force all of his wishes to come true...

Even if that meant kidnapping Lady Y/N Stark and marrying her in secret.

Three years down the line, Y/N was now 14 years of age, and putting her brothers to shame when it came to archery and hunting; Thus, they all agreed they would have a hunting competition, to which, albeit reticently, their father agreed.

Three whole days spent in the Wolfswood; The one who brings the most game wins the contest - Thus, Theon, Y/N, Robb and Jon rode confidently into the forest.

The Wolfswood was a dense, ancient forest stretching between Winterfell and the Dreadfort - She felt so close, yet so far from her best friend; Alas, she couldn't afford to think of him. She had to win. The woods were thick, the towering trees created a canopy that blocked out much of the sky, leaving only slivers of light to pierce the darkness. The forest was eerily quiet, save for the rustling of leaves and distant cries of creatures every now and again.

The moon hung high in the sky, casting a pale light over the clearing where Y/N had set up her camp. She’d done well so far, managing to bring down two deer, a boar and a few smaller game, which were now tied securely to a tree. Her brothers were likely doing just as well, but she was determined to win. She had to. If she won, she would forever get rid of her brothers' teasing, or them telling her to return to embroidering. How bothersome.

After finishing her meal, she moved cautiously around the perimeter of her camp, checking the traps she’d set earlier; They were simple, designed more to alert her to danger than to catch anything significant. As she returned to the fire, she couldn't help but shiver slightly. It wasn't the cold that bothered her, but the darkness pressing in around her.

Taking a deep breath and calming her nerves, she settled down by a large tree, its sturdy trunk at her back. The fire crackled, offering some comfort, but the night was still intimidating. She tried to focus on her goal — Winning the competition, proving she was just as capable as her brothers - But the fear of being alone in the dark was still there, lurking at the edges of her mind.

Just as she began to relax, the snap of a trap echoed through the clearing, followed by a loud, furious string of curses. Y/N’s heart leaped into her throat, and she instinctively grabbed her bow, an arrow quickly nocked. Her eyes darted around the shadows until she spotted the source of the commotion.

Hanging upside down by his leg, thrashing and cursing loudly, was Ramsay Snow.

Y/N’s eyes widened in shock, her grip on the bow loosening as she lowered the weapon. “Ramsay?!” she muttered, barely believing her eyes.

Ramsay twisted around, his face a mix of annoyance and amusement. “Who else would be stupid enough to get caught in one of your traps, Kitten?”

Finally getting over her shock, Y/N dropped her bow and rushed over, pulling out her knife to cut the rope. Ramsay landed with a thud, groaning as he rubbed his ankle. She knelt beside him, worry etched on her face.

“Are you alright?!” she asked, her voice filled with concern.

Ramsay looked up at her, a mischievous grin spreading across his face despite the pain. “I’ve had worse - But really, trapping people now? I didn’t know you’d gotten so ruthless.”

She blushed, embarrassed that she’d caught him of all people. “It wasn’t meant for you! I just didn’t want anything sneaking up on me.”

Ramsay chuckled, getting to his feet and dusting himself off. “And you did a fine job of that." he stepped towards her, and lazily rested his arms on her shoulders, leaning on her body to the point of making her stumble over her feet from his weight. "You could have just asked for help instead of trying to do all this alone.”

Y/N looked at him, his face so close to her own that she could feel her breath. "I genuinely didn't think I would meet you again - Not like this, at least." her voice was so tender and soft; Oh, how he missed her voice.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by her. "Yes, I was sad not getting a visit for three whole years... Though now that I look at you, all sadness magically vanished." he smirked at her, his expression confident and cocky. "You still look like a child compared to me."

"You will always be older than me, Ramsay - What exactly do you want me to do about it?" she breathed out, slowly analysing him; He grew up so much in three years... He looked gorgeous. Gorgeous, and deranged. Those crystal clear eyes were swimming with craziness, only highlighted by the peeking moonlight caressing his already pale face.

"Grow up!" with a swift power move, he grabbed her body and lifted her in the air, reveling in the cutesy squeals of her surprise, and the strong grip she held on his shoulders. Little kitten loved to dig her nails in his flesh, how exciting.

"How about you help me win, instead?!" she cried out. "Now please, put me down - And help me out, please!" begrudgingly, he did just that, dragging her to the fire, where she explained the premise of their contest... And how adorable she was, admitting to still feeling afraid of the dark, clinging onto him so adorably.

Ramsay smirked, clearly pleased with her bagging for his help so sweetly. “Of course, Kitten. I’ll make sure you have a little… advantage.”

"Meow." she meowed! She... Meowed, of all things! How was he supposed to keep his hands to himself when she was being so adorable?! It had been three whole years since they last saw each other; She grew even more beautiful than he expected, than he imagined - And now, he can't even touch her! How unnerving.

Y/N couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of comfort in Ramsay’s presence. Though he teased her mercilessly, there was something reassuring about having him by her side - And though she didn’t realize it yet, Ramsay was just as glad to be there with her, the thrill of the hunt only heightened by the prospect of spending the night together in the wild - In the shadows of the Wolfswood, their bond deepened, forged in the darkness and sealed by the blood they would spill together.

Since then, every fortnight, until she would turn 17 years of age, they would meet in their special spot in the Wolfswood. Eddard and Cat sometimes spotted her sneaking away, but they could never get her to say a thing - She was praying in the Godswood or something - No one would believe her.

It was a fortnight after the hunting competition when Y/N first returned to the Wolfswood alone. The memory of Ramsay helping her secure that precious victory over her brothers still lingered in her mind, and she found herself drawn back to the forest, eager to see him again. As she rode into the familiar clearing, she noticed the way the trees seemed to close in around her, the shadows long and deep. She dismounted, tying her horse to a nearby tree, and waited.

She didn’t have to wait long.

Suddenly, strong arms wrapped around her from behind, pulling her close before she could react. She gasped, her heart leaping into her throat as she struggled instinctively, but then she heard his familiar chuckle in her ear.

“Miss me, Kitten?” Ramsay’s voice was a low, teasing murmur.

Y/N relaxed slightly, though she rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Ramsay, you scared me!” she whined, trying and failing to push him away from her.

“That was the point.” he replied, his arms still holding her securely. “It’s no fun if you see me coming.”

She turned in his arms to face him, her expression both annoyed and amused. “One of these days, I’ll get the jump on you.”

Ramsay smirked, clearly pleased by her challenge. “I’d like to see you try.”

Each meeting after that became a game — A test of wits and skill - For the bastard, that is. Ramsay would always arrive first, hiding in the shadows of the forest, waiting impatiently for the perfect moment to strike. Sometimes he would leap out from behind a tree, causing Y/N to yelp in surprise; Other times, he would sneak up silently, wrapping his arms around her waist or pinning her against a tree before she even realized he was there.

With each encounter, Ramsay’s touches grew bolder. He would linger behind her, his hands resting on her shoulders, or let his fingers brush against her hair as they walked together through the forest. Y/N, now 16, was aware of his increasing boldness, but she couldn’t deny the thrill it brought her. She was beginning to understand all those suspicious things he would tell her as children - To think he would be so bold and knowledgeable since so long ago... His advances were teasing, playful and straight-forward, and she felt a strange mix of excitement and apprehension each time he touched her.

Ramsay seemed to revel in her reactions, his smirk ever-present as he found new ways to surprise and corner her. He would pin her to the ground during their mock fights, holding her down as she struggled and laughed, his eyes dark with something she couldn’t quite understand. Other times, he would push her against a tree, their faces inches apart, his breath warm against her skin as he teased her mercilessly.

As the years passed, their meetings became a constant in their lives. No matter what happened between Winterfell and the Dreadfort, they always returned to the Wolfswood, where the world seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of them.

She began bringing her pets— A red wolf named Meleys after the Red Dragon Queen, and a fox named Jade to match her eyes; Meleys, with her fiery fur and fierce loyalty, would growl softly at Ramsay whenever he got too close, while Jade, more curious than cautious, would dart around their feet, sniffing at Ramsay with mild interest, yapping to play with him, or to garner his affections.

One night, after a rather intense wrestling onto the ground that left Y/N pinned beneath Ramsay, her wrists above her head, unable to move and breathing hard, struggling to break free, she managed scratched him, again, drawing blood - This time, it was his neck instead. The sight of the single scarlet line against his pale skin made her freeze, her eyes wide with shock.

"Oh no, not again!" she got naturally worried. "I told you not to tease me so much - Now I hurt you! I'm so sorry!"

Ramsay, however, only laughed, his eyes gleaming with something dark and possessive. He grabbed her in his arms, holding her chin. “Looks like you’ve marked me again, Kitten.” he said, his voice a low purr. “Afraid I forgot who you belonged to?”

Katrina flushed, unsure of what to say. She didn’t fully understand the weight of his words, but the way he looked at her made her heart race in a way she couldn’t quite explain. "Let me wipe the blood... I should put some snow on it to stop the bleeding..."

"Or you could be a good little Kitten and lick the blood away." his affirmation shocked the girl so much that she almost didn't realise she was pulled into his lap, her chest flush against his own. "Or... My Lady doesn't want to take accountability for her actions~?"

"That's... That's weird, I can't... I'm not..." he grabbed her face, fixing it to look deep into her eyes.

"What a naughty, naughty Kitten you've been... You wouldn't want me to punish you... Or... Mayhaps that is exactly what you wish for~?" the blush on her cheeks was as beautifully red as her hair; She was so precious and shy, how sweet... And how hard to resist.

"F-Fine... Stay still..." with reticence, she carefully held onto him, one hand holding his jaw up, and the other keeping herself steady by holding onto his shoulder.

The feeling of her hot, wet tongue trailing the small scratch line along his neck garnered a strong shiver from the young man, and a shameless groan of pleasure; Such a sound, so primal, so masculine, it made Y/N feel even more timid... And intrigued. She wanted to hear more... To make him react more.

She continued in her conquest, using instead her lips, kissing at his skin until there was no more blood leaking down... Each kiss made his grip on her body get stronger to the point of pain... But she loved it. She loved how feral Ramsay could get, so strong, so unchained... So arousing. And then, once she held onto him tighter, and her kisses turned bolder, nipping away at his skin, sucking on it, he was desperate... So desperate, in fact, that he had to roughly push her away and place snow on his neck to cool down his scorching body, or he was sure to burst and make a mess of his breeches... Or worse, force her down and claim her. It wasn't how he wanted her to look at him... But it wasn't easy to hold back around her.

"Never do that again, sweetling - Not to anyone, except me."

As the time approached for Y/N to turn 17, their meetings in the Wolfswood took on a new tension. Ramsay’s touches became more lingering, his teasing words more loaded with meaning. He would hold her closer, his hands sliding down to her waist, his lips brushing her ear as he whispered things that made her cheeks burn. He wanted her so desperately, but there was no way he would destroy the way she craves him so, by taking her against the tree in the forest.

During their last meeting before her birthday, Ramsay surprised her by sneaking up behind her as she sat by a stream, lost in thought. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her back against him as he nuzzled her neck.

“You’ve gotten better at sneaking up on me.” Katrina admitted, her voice betraying the mix of emotions she felt.

Ramsay smirked, his breath warm against her skin. “I love seeing you squeal for me, My Lady."

She tried to pull away, feeling the intensity of his gaze on her, but he held her fast, his hands firm on her waist. “What do boys and girls do together when they’re old enough?” he had teased her many times before, always with a mischievous glint in his eye.

Y/N had never fully understood the implications, but she knew enough to feel a flutter of something in her chest — Something that made her both curious and uneasy - The same wicked thing she felt, kissing his neck, and witnessing his raw reactions. That was what happened to young people whose parents never told them how babies were made... And, worse... Parents who never knew how pleasure was made.

“When you’re old enough, I’ll show you.” Ramsay had once promised, his voice dark and mischievous. "I will show you something even better than the games boys and girls do when they're alone." Unfortunately, he wouldn't have the opportunity to show her the hedonistic world of pleasure he succumbed himself into... The world in which he wanted to drown together... For she was forced to join the retinue to King's Landing and search for a proper marriage prospect... Fit for the eldest daughter of Lord Eddard Stark.

Y/N was always looking forward to the routine her and Ramsay created for themselves, meeting at the same spot once every two weeks, and catching up, havin fun... She was always the happiest when around him... And yet, this time, Y/N was troubled... Desperate, frustrated, angry, betrayed...

She dismounted from her horse with a heavy heart, her hands trembling as she tied the reins to a nearby tree. Meleys, her red wolf, and Jade, her pet fox, followed closely behind her, sensing the tension that hung in the air. She had come to the clearing many times over the years, but this time felt different... The finality of an ephemeral bliss hung over her neck like a guillotine.

Ramsay was already there, leaning against a tree, his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes, as always, filled with playful malice and mischief, ready to torment his sweet flower - Though, as she approached him, he straightened, his posture tense, as though bracing himself for the bad news brought by a black raven. In the past three years, not once had he seen her this miserable... This... Sorrowful.

“What's gotten my naughty little Kitten so pissed? No more drapes to scratch? Or human flesh is the only thing that can satisfy you now?” he spoke in his usual dark, taunting voice, but for once, his teasing didn't seem to have the intended effect - Or any at all, for what matters.

Y/N didn't even look at him, or acknowledge his presence. H he greeted her, his voice rougher than usual. Her face was paler than usual, and her eyes were puffy pink and glazed with tears, her brows were furrowed in a deep frown, and her mind lost in thought. He couldn't stand this look on her. She was supposed to be sweet and smile, to be energetic and filled with vitality, to jump on his and scratch him, to cuddle into his arms and purr so lovingly;

She did none of that.

"What's the matter? Daddy found us out?" he scoffed a question, but she merely shook her head. "So?" she said nothing. "Go on. Speak." still nothing. "I do not appreciate this, Y/N."

She nodded in response, unable to find her voice at first. The words she had rehearsed so many times in her mind now seemed hollow, insufficient for the gravity of the moment. In his rage and frustration, Ramsay roughly grabbed the girl by the furs of her dress, wrestling her to the ground into the soothingly cold snow; His hands were holding tightly onto her shoulders, his face twisted into a malicious sneer - Yet one look into her devastated eyes... Her hopelessness... And he was immediately simmered down.

"The King came over a few days ago." she stammered pitifully over her words. "Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King died... And he wants daddy to become the next Hand..." with great difficulty, she managed to utter some words.

"What's that got to do with you?" he hissed under his breath, his eyes not even once flickering away from her own.

"My daddy was forced to accept... Thus, he has to stay in King's Landing." he slowly nodded his head, as if to urge her to continue. "Sansa fell in love with the King's son, Joffrey... I told her he's a real cunt, that he's not the gallant prince she dreams of, from 'The Ballad of Florian and Jonquil'... But she wouldn't listen... She wants to marry him..." she gulped, tears streaming down her face. "She is barely eleven... Hasn't even flowered yet..."

"You were eleven when I met you." Ramsay noted, earning a nod from her. "You are seventeen now, and still an unwed maiden. The eldest Lady Stark." she cringed softly at the affirmation. "They want to trade you to some rich old fuck, like a piece of meat." she nodded again. "How miserable."

"I don't want to go, Ramsay." she whimpered so pitifully, that the young man found his body growing hot. "I want to stay with you - Forever. The North is my home... I-I can't stay there... I can't..."

"A flower of the North, uprooted and forced to wilt in the stench and stifling heat of the South." he muttered under his breath.

"Mother has been furious for a while that daddy let me unmarried for so long... He wanted me to fall in love and marry someone I wanted... But my mother, married out of duty, also wanted me to do the same... Just like the Tully word - Family, Duty, Honour - ... Marry, have many heirs, do your duties..." he had never seen her cry before, but now, she clinged onto him, sobbing into the crook of her neck, so desperately and pitifully that he almost couldn't understand her. "I don't want to marry some pathetic lordling! I don't want to give birth! I don't want it - Any of it!" she whined and mewled like that some more; Ramsay's grip tightened around her protectively... Possessively... And then... "I want you, Ramsay! I want only you! I want to be you friend, I want to have fun with you, I want to marry you - I want to stay with you forever - Forever and Always!"

His breathing was heavy, picking up a little; He dragged her on his lap, and held her so tightly to his chest that she almost got lost inside his strong embrace. "That's right, little Kitten. You are mine, and only mine. No one can have you. No one but me." he grumbled in her ear, his hand burying into her hair, holding her firmly. "Did they find some shit lord yet?" annoyingly enough, she nodded her head.

"Tyrion Lannister... The Imp." she whimpered lowly. "He is a witty and respectful man... I would have a content life with him... He wouldn't force me to do anything I didn't want..." she hiccuped from sobbing. "But he isn't you. No one is you. And I want only you."

The thought of losing her — Of her being taken away to a place where he couldn’t reach her—stoked the fire of his rage once more. “And you brought your pets over to let me take care of them, then?” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “I don't want your pets, Y/N. I want you.”

Y/N’s heart clenched at his words. She had known for years that Ramsay’s feelings for her were intense, even possessive, but this was the first time he had spoken so plainly. She felt more tears slip down her cheek as she looked up at him, her vision blurred by the emotion she had tried so hard to contain.

He stared at her, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he reached out and cupped her face in his hands, his touch surprisingly gentle. “You’re mine, Y/N.” he murmured, his voice soft but filled with a dark promise. “You’ve always been mine, and you always will be.”

Y/N closed her eyes, leaning into his touch, wanting to believe him— To believe that they could find a way to be together, despite the forces of the universe pulling them apart. She knew how difficult it would be - Escaping King's Landing was close to blasphemy; She knew the expectations placed upon her as a Stark, and the dangers of being tied to a man like Ramsay... A bastard...

She cared for nothing, except for her happiness. She wanted to be selfish, in spite of how much she loved her family. “I’ll find a way back to you.” she promised, her voice barely a whisper. “I’ll escape King’s Landing, I swear it.”

Ramsay’s expression darkened, his grip on her face tightening. “You’d better.” he growled. “Because if you don’t, I’ll come for you. I’ll burn that wretched city to the ground if I have to.”

His words, though terrifying, were also a twisted comfort to her. She knew Ramsay meant every word — He would stop at nothing to claim what he believed was his. But as much as she wanted to be with him, she couldn’t ignore the fear that gripped her heart, the fear that she might not be able to return, that she might be trapped in the South forever. That she would wilt before she got the chance to liberate herself.

Ramsay pulled her closer, pressing his forehead against hers. “I’ll take care of Meleys and Jade.” he finally said, his voice rough with emotion. “But don't forget who you belong to, Y/N."

Y/N nodded, her tears mingling with his breath. She wanted to say something, to reassure him, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, she pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, a silent promise that she would return to him, no matter the cost.

She bit her lip, forcing herself to hold back another sob that threatened to escape. She couldn’t bear to leave him like this, but she had no choice - She wasn't a wild wolf anymore, but a collared dog on a leash, and the handler was a slut like Myranda.

With one last glance at him, she forced herself out of his protective arms, turned around and mounted her horse, her heart heavy with sorrow. "I cannot say farewell... But I can try and say... I will see you again... Soon."

As she rode away, she heard Ramsay’s voice call out to her, filled with a desperation that shook her to her core. “Don’t make me wait too long.”

Y/N didn’t look back, tears streaming down her face as she urged her horse forward, the forest closing in around her. She knew this wouldn’t be the last time she saw Ramsay, but the thought of the long, uncertain road ahead filled her with dread... And determination to break free from her shackles... A ferocious, feral instinct broke inside of her, and she was ready to transform into the she-wolf she was born to be...

The cold, dimly lit chamber of the Dreadfort, where the stone walls seem to absorb any warmth that might exist felt now even colder than before, Ramsay noted unconsciously, once he realised it had already been over a year since he hasn't seen Y/N... Since she'd been mercilessly snatched away from his grasp.

Roose Bolton sat at his desk, his expression as impassive as ever, while Ramsay stood before him; The tension between father and son was as harshly palpable as always. The air was thick with the scent of burning torches and the ever-present dampness of the castle, a stark reminder of the harshness of the North, didn't bother him anymore; A man of the North would never be bothered by such trivialities.

Fueled by a mixture of fury and frustration, Ramsay is seething inside at the thought of losing Y/N, but his father’s presence was forcing him to maintain a veneer of calm... For as long as humanly possible for him.

Ramsay paced the length of the chamber, his hands clenched behind his back, his mind a storm of rage and dark thoughts - He was restless - Restless as never before, and that restlessness usually brought with it a storm of torture, hedonism and quite a lot of erratic flaying.

The room felt too small, too suffocating; His father’s cold gaze on him felt like a blade pressed to his throat. He wanted nothing more than to unleash his fury, to tear the room apart, and his father with it, but he knew better. Roose Bolton did not tolerate outbursts, and Ramsay knew he had to keep his emotions in check... As long as he was a bastard, his father was still useful... Afterwards, well...

“You are going to dig a dam if you keep pacing.” Roose’s voice broke through his thoughts, a calm, controlled tone that belied the gravity of their discussion. "Don't tell me you're thinking of that Stark girl again."

Ramsay forced himself to stop pacing, turning to face his father. He knew Roose saw everything, knew everything, and any attempt to hide his feelings would be futile. Still, he had to be careful. His voice was tight with barely suppressed anger. “She’s in King’s Landing.” he grumbled. "For over a year."

Roose arched an eyebrow, his expression giving nothing away. “And this concerns you... How, exactly?" his father's words cut as deep as the cold Valyrian steel. "Have you forgotten you place again?"

Ramsay’s jaw tightened, but he forced himself to stay calm. "No... Father." he licked his lips, looking down for a few seconds. "But she's a Stark - The daughter of Lord Eddard Stark, Warden of the North, and now, Hand of the King. Marrying her - Politically, of course - Would help our House regain power and wealth again."

"MY House." his father's words felt like whips against his skin. "Not yours. You are a Snow, not a Bolton." he continued with a painfully strong word. "Yet." Roose leaned back in his chair, studying his son with those cold, calculating eyes. “You’ve grown attached to the girl, haven’t you?” he said, a faint hint of amusement in his voice. “You don't care about politics - You only care about yourself." he scoffed, sneering at his son with disgust. "It’s only natural for a bastard to crave what he can’t have.” he continued to belittle him even more. "If you got tired of Tansy's cunt, just move to Kyra - And if even she bores you, you have Myranda. There's plenty women in here - Stop wasting time thinking of the one you can never have. You're wasting your time - And mine."

Ramsay’s fists clenched at his sides, his nails digging into his palms. He hated the way his father spoke, the way he dismissed him, the way he thought him incompetent and lesser, just because he was born out of wedlock. "She's mine. I claimed her - And I will make sure I get what I want."

Roose’s amusement faded, replaced by a steely resolve. “If you want to make her yours in more than just your mind, you’ll have to do more than just ruining the floor of my study chamber.” he said, his voice as cold as the North itself. “Listen clearly to me, Ramsay. We have a new ally - Far more powerful than the Starks.”

Ramsay narrowed his eyes, his anger simmering just below the surface. “What do you mean?” it was the first time he heard his father speaking about aiding someone other than the Starks - Knowing full well the Bolton army was aiding the Young Wolf win against the Lannister - And that his father, also, had to return to the battlefield soon enough.

Roose leaned forward, his gaze piercing. “The Stark boy, Robb, is a threat to the Crown. Naturally, the self-proclaimed 'King In The North' has a huge bounty on his head - And there is a way to remove him from the board, permanently.”

Ramsay’s heart skipped a beat. He had heard whispers of the plot, rumors of a grand betrayal that would see the Young Wolf brought to his knees, but hearing it from his father’s lips made it real, tangible. He had allied with the Lannisters. “The Red Wedding.” he said quietly, more a statement than a question.

Lord Bolton nodded, his expression unreadable. “The army is going to reach the Twins, and Lord Frey demands a groom. Alas, Robb Stark has the same dangerous sense of loyalty that his own father had - The same loyalty that got him killed." he let out a sardonic laugh. "He married the woman he slept with, out of duty - He cannot be the groom; He's sending his uncle, a lowly, incompetent Tully Fish. Of course Walder Frey would feel betrayed... And will act accordingly." his peering eyes stabbed his own, and his voice was threatening and alarming. "If you want to secure your claim to Winterfell, you must act soon. After Robb Stark dies, the next-in-line heirs are merely children of 7 and 3. The heir is clear - Your darling Y/N Stark." Roose smirked ironically, seeing his bastard's interest piqued, for once. "Everyone wants to fuck an heir in her womb, Ramsay. She is every Noble House's target." his jaw clenched in anger, in rage, in madness. "But only you must claim her maidenhood, make her your woman and have her bare your heirs. It is the only way to secure your position as the next Lord Bolton."

Ramsay’s mind raced. The idea of Robb Stark dead, of Winterfell ripe for the taking, filled him with a dark excitement. But it was Y/N’s face that haunted his thoughts, her tearful promise to return to him, to escape the South and come back to the North. The thought of losing her, of her being out of his reach, drove him to the brink of madness. Then, he remembered the tears painting her face, her distraught, her agony - How loudly she yelled that she didn't want to be a tool to create heirs? That she didn't want to give birth, because she was terrified of the pain, terrified of death, of motherhood - Of everything? And he was on the same wavelength as her - No way he wanted to be a father - Not while his mind still works properly. But Roose continued, his voice like ice, waking him up from his excruciating inner conflict. “Do something useful for once in your pathetic, miserable life and marry that Stark wench you kept sneaking out to meet for three years." he spat at his son. "Don’t think I haven’t noticed, Ramsay. You may be stealthy, but I know everything.”

Ramsay’s blood ran cold. His father knew—of course, he knew. Roose Bolton knew every secret, every move his son made. There was no hiding from him. But what Roose didn’t understand, what he couldn’t comprehend, was the depth of Ramsay’s obsession with Katrina. She was not just a means to an end, not just a stepping stone to power. She was his, in a way that went beyond any rational thought or ambition.

The bastard didn’t respond; He didn’t trust himself to speak. He left the chamber, his heart and mind a maelstrom of conflicting emotions. As he stepped into the cold corridors of the Dreadfort, his thoughts returned to Y/N, to her promise to return, to the way she had looked at him in the Wolfswood. He would make sure she kept that promise. She would be his, no matter the cost.

As he walked through the dimly lit halls, all the way outside of the Fort, and into the forest, his mind churned with plans and possibilities. The Red Wedding would be the first step, yes... His father's betrayal... But Y/N… She was his obsession, his desire, the one thing that mattered more than anything else. He would marry her, claim Winterfell, and make sure that she never left his side again m- All on his own accord, not the traditional way the old fucks want to force upon them. He needed her happy; He needed her to want him, to need him, to desire him the same way he wants, needs and desires her.

No one, not even his father, would stand in his way to get his little Kitten back in his arms.

Lost in his mind, the young bastard found himself by the running river - He always wanted to take Y/N here, his special spot to get away from the world. Once, she admitted to him that, although her personality is very much that of a wolf, she still find a good portion of her peace by the river-run, just like her Tully mother.

The icy wind blew through the trees along the riverbank, but Ramsay barely felt it. His dark mood had numbed him to the cold of the North. He stood by the rushing waters of the river, his fists clenched, chest heaving with barely suppressed rage.

He couldn't believe over a year had passed since his sweetling had been taken to King’s Landing, and in that time, Ramsay had fallen into a restless spiral. His hunts no longer thrilled him, and even the cruel games he played with his prisoners brought him no joy. No one could satisfy him anymore, and every woman he took to his bed only made the ache for Y/N grow worse. With an empty chuckle, he remembered the hurt in Myranda's eyes, and the protest she chirped, once he called her by Y/N's name instead of her own. Hilarious how either of them thought themselves important in his life. Dumb cunts, all of them.

He cursed under his breath, pacing along the riverbank, his thoughts tangled in frustration and agony. The image of her haunted him - Her eyes, her smile, the playful way she used to tease him. It wasn't just her beauty that lingered in his mind; it was the feeling she invoked in him. A need deeper than any he'd known before. She had marked him, claimed him, and he hated her for it, almost as much as he longed for her, needed her, just like he needed air to breathe.

His breath came in harsh gasps as he leaned against a tree, trying to calm the storm raging inside him. He slammed his fist against the bark, the roughness biting into his skin, but the pain brought him no relief. His mind kept returning to her, to the day she left, to her cries, her tears, her screams, to the promise she'd made, the way she'd looked back at him with those desperate, pleading eyes, almost as if she was begging him to kidnap her and tie her up in the dungeons, away from the harsh world that would hurt her... That would take her away from him.

"Where the hell are you?" he snarled, his voice echoing through the wind, as he continued punching at the tree, an unfortunate bad habit he got since childhood; Punching until his fist was a bloody mess... Punching until he didn't want to claw his own body out, as if he needed to escape this cage of flesh and sinew.

Then, from the corner of his eye, Ramsay caught movement; He tensed, instinctively reaching for the dagger at his side - Instead of danger, he saw the familiar forms of Meleys and Jade that approached him. The red wolf padded silently through the trees, her light coloured eyes gleaming with intelligence and caution, while the fox moved with graceful playfulness. Ramsay lowered his guard, watching as they approached him.

The wolf nuzzled his hand, the softness of her fur a stark contrast to his cold rage... Her red-coppery fur was as velvety soft as Y/N's hair, he remembered. His muscles relaxed, if only slightly, and he knelt down, letting his fingers run through Meleys' fur. Jade, ever loving, kept her green eyes fixed on him, before she yapped for his attention.

"You're missing her too, aren’t you?" Ramsay muttered, his voice softening for a moment. He scratched Meleys behind the ears, feeling the animal’s warmth against his skin. It was strange — He’d never cared for animals like Y/N did, but these two were different. Sure, he preferred the company of dogs over that of people, and for good reason...

When he looked Meleys in the eyes, she looked straight back at him; She climbed on his lap and gently licked at his face. He didn't stop her. He remembered those times when he'd meet Y/N, and she'd show him how she learnt to warg into Meleys, to see life through her, to control her... To live through her. He often wondered if Y/N was warged into Meleys, and she was trying to comfort him... To show him her love... To give him hope...

Jade, too, jumped on him, nudging her small wet truffle-snout against his palm, licking at his bloody wounds; Ramsay found some strange solace in their presence, though he would never admit it. Meleys and Jade missed her too — He could see it in the way they searched for her, the way they lingered near places where she used to be. They were as restless as he was, as hungry for her return.

"She promised." Ramsay whispered, more to himself than to the animals. "She swore she'd come back."

Meleys whimpered softly, nudging Ramsay's hand, as though offering comfort in her own way, then gently placed her head on his shoulder. Jade blinked up at him with her bright eyes, her tail flicking slightly. They were loyal creatures, just as Y/N had been loyal to him - That loyalty, that bond they all shared — It was the one thing he could cling to when the loneliness clawed at his insides.

"I will flay everyone who gets in her way." his hand gripped the hilt of his dagger, his jaw tightening with renewed resolve. Y/N would return to him. She had to. And when she did, he would never let her go again. Not to anyone. Not to anything. She was his, marked by him, claimed by him; He wore her mark, that haughty little kitten.

He sat there in the snow for a while longer, the quiet of the forest and the gentle presence of Meleys and Jade soothing his maddening thoughts. For the first time in what felt like weeks, Ramsay allowed himself to relax just a little; Though beneath his calm exterior, the storm still brewed.

"See, Sandor?!" Y/N desperately tried to shake him into agreeing with her plan; Though her lack of strength managed to move him not even by a fraction of an inch. "You must help me! Please - You must!"

"You're just as fucked in the head as he is, little fox." the Hound barked a sarcastic laugh. "What of the little bird?"

Y/N hesitated, looking down. "She..." Y/N gulped, her voice wavering. "The Lannisters have her in their clutches. She won't listen to me... Not anymore. She's forgotten herself, who she is... Since father died." she bit her lip painfully hard. "I cannot save her anymore, Sandor; And I can save our family even less if I am trapped here, in this hell." she looked up into his eyes, strength and determination surprising even him "I trust only you with her safety. Whatever happens of that... A wolf must always return to the North. I hope, one day, you will escape also - And bring her with you to our home." she continued in a more tender home. "You will always be welcomed in the North, Sandor."

"You've lost your mind, girl. I am welcomed nowhere - Especially not given my reputation." he rolled his eyes, pushing her away from him. "Fine. I'll take care of the little song bird - But don't expect me to die for her. That damned lousy cunt who calls himself the King is unpredictable, and I am still just a dog."

"A loyal dog who's earned the trust of the Queen In The North."

The night of the wildfire siege at Blackwater Bay was a chaos of screams and roaring flames that lit the sky with an eerie green glow. The city was in disarray, and amidst the flames, the terrified Sandor Clegane dragged the two Stark sisters out of their rooms and fled the blasted Crown city for good, never to look back or miss the damned stench.

At first, they didn't know where to go, except North - Always into the North - Yet during one silent camping stop where their fear calmed down the littlest bit, they agreed on a temporary strategy - Reunite with the Young Wolf who was currently hosted at the Twins.

Unfortunately the reunion was bitter, and that night they didn't meet Robb Stark nor Catelyn Stark or Grey Wind... They met death staring right at them. Sansa fell into the Hound's arms, sobbing, wailing, almost waiting at the grotesque sight... Almost as bad as seeing her father beheaded... Y/N remained silent, her mind all but blank and filled with rage and revenge. What once was her proud brother, the beautiful Lord Robb Stark of Winterfell, the King in the North... Was now reduced to a headless corpse mounted on a horse... With his precious Grey Wind's head sewn on his shoulders. No doubt, their mother also met a similarly humiliating and grotesque fate.

"Y/N. I found your rat runt of a sister." Sandor spoke, out of nowhere, holding Arya by the back of her shirt as she was trying to escape his grasp and run head-first into the Bolton and Frey army to kill them all.

"Let me go! Now! I'll kill you, you stupid mutt! Y/N, tell him!" the little sister tried to struggle, but it was Sansa who slapped her face.

"Arya, can't you see?! Robb is dead! Mother is dead! If you go there, we will lose you too! Stop being a brat for once, and listen to us!" poor Sansa's heartbroken cries made even the wild little sister stare at her with wide eyes, and teared up too.

"They... They killed them... Slaughtered... Like livestock... Why..." came her little, trembling voice. "It's not fair..."

"Life ain't fair, girl." the dog grunted under his breath, taking them away from there. They suffered enough, no need to see the enemy making a mockery of their beloved family anymore.

"The North remembers... And we will have their skins..." though Arya was emboldened by that fearsome threat, Sansa shuddered a little at her cold, hars voice. It was only Sandor who noticed the malice and vendetta behind her words... And the ally hidden in the North, ready to flay anyone alive. What a deranged bastard. Gulping away her sorrow, Y/N finally found the words and strength to speak. "Let's go to aunt Lysa for now, and we'll see what we do from there."

The road to the Eyrie was filled with danger, but Sandor, Arya and Y/N knew how to fight away the assailants; They pushed forward relentlessly, despite their exhaustion and heartbreak. The girls needed a place to recover — Somewhere far from the reach of the Lannisters and the Freys. The only safe place they had left.

The eerie mountain fortress became their temporary sanctuary, though they knew they couldn't stay forever. Surprisingly even to himself, Sandor guarded over the Stark girls with the fierce loyalty of a dog - Though not for long. The girls had to divide and conquer, to make a plan and gain enough support and a proper army to regain what was lost through the Red Wedding, and the loss of Robb and Catelyn Stark.

Sansa, ever the diplomat, remained at the Eyrie to deal with aunt Lysa and young Robert; Arya had escaped into the night, ready to take on the unknown and learn how to properly fight and fend for herself, a little girl against the endless world; Y/N was going to reclaim their home and name herself the heir and Lady of Winterfell - Bran and Rickon were far too little to lead, even with the Maesters aiding them. Maester Luwin might have been as intelligent and loving as their second father, but even he couldn't rule the way a true Stark would.

Leaving Sansa in the care of Sandor, Y/N began her lonely ride northward. She hadn’t heard of what had befallen Winterfell — Only whispers of its burning and rumors of her brothers’ deaths. Her heart told her it was lies, but her mind feared the worst.

The North was desolate, colder than she remembered, and the haunting loneliness echoed in every step she took toward her home. Winterfell had once been a place of safety, but now, the foreboding silence filled her with dread.

When she finally arrived at Winterfell, the place she called home was but a shell of what it had been. The castle stood lonely and bleak, with the Greyjoy banner flapping mockingly above the walls. Panic surged through her veins as she noticed two small bodies, covered in tar, burnt and hanged above the gate as display for all to see. They couldn't be... No way those were Bran and Rickon... Theon Greyjoy would never...

She stormed inside, desperately searching for answers, only to be greeted by the sight of Theon, standing in her father’s hall, playing at being Lord of Winterfell.

Fury like she had never known surged through her - Theon had betrayed them, his only family that accepted him after is own father renounced him in favour of his sister, Asha, who was a far better leader than he would ever be.

Her anger overwhelmed her to the point of irrationality; The words were ripping from her throat with all the venom she could muster. Theon was no longer the boy she once knew. He was brittle, broken, and deluded with false power. The arrogant power-trip that the weak get once given the chance to hold a fickle grain of power.

"You... You pathetic, loathsome, disgusting, arrogant little cockroach!" the voice of a Stark roared loudly through the castle walls, calling forth all of its original inhabitants - They all marveled in joy and horror at seeing Lady Stark return home. "Theon Greyjoy, who in the Seven Hells do you think you are?!" she lunged at him, wrestling him to the ground in his state of confusion and panic.

"You—!" her voice was a guttural snarl, thick with disbelief and outrage. "You traitorous bastard!" she screamed as her fists slammed into him, each strike landing with the weight of her anger and heartbreak. The hall fell into shocked silence, with the few guards present too stunned to react immediately - Though none of them had any respect for the poor excuse of a Kraken playing the leader role. "How dare you sit there! That seat belongs to my father! My family! You are nothing!"

Theon, momentarily caught off guard, could only try to shield himself from the onslaught; Y/N’s blows came hard and fast, her nails scratching at his face and her fists thudding against his chest. For a brief moment, she was relentless, every ounce of betrayal and rage from months of being away from her home, from seeing her family butchered, pouring out of her.

Theon groaned in pain and surprise as she clawed at him, her anger consuming every fiber of her being. “Stop—!” he tried to shout over her furious attacks, but his voice was drowned out by her curses - Just like his useless God.

"How could you?!" she cried, voice cracking with the raw emotion of betrayal. "After everything we've done for you! After we treated you like one of us! You were my brother, Theon! And now this?! You betray your best friend who trusted you above all else, take over my home, declare yourself the Lord and even kill my brothers!" her fists slammed into him again, the intensity of her emotions seeping into every word. "You disgust me! You, vile, evil, pathetic worm!"

The old citizens of Winterfell, those who had remained loyal to the Starks, rushed forward in an attempt to hold her back. A few guards hesitated at first, unsure whether or not to protect Theon from the girl’s wrath or to stand aside. One of the older men, who had known Y/N since she was a child, wrapped his arms around her from behind, gently restraining her despite her thrashing.

"Lady Y/N, please!" the man pleaded, his voice filled with sorrow. "You'll only get yourself hurt - Your precious hands should not be damaged against a lowly peasant such as him." truly, no one feared him, nor respected him. He was a wretch everywhere he went. Even his own family was praying for him never to return.

Y/N was panting, her wild eyes still fixed on Theon, who now stood from the ground, wiping at his bleeding face, his eyes a mix of embarrassment and growing rage. Her chest heaved as she struggled against the arms holding her back, her voice hoarse with the weight of everything she had bottled up for too long, a dark, malicious murder intent growing ever stronger.

"You don't belong here!" she spat, trying to wrench herself free. "This is my home!"

Theon’s pride, wounded by both her words and her successful attack, twisted his expression into something unknown. His initial shock and shame from being attacked by a woman was quickly replaced by a cruel sneer, the only way he knew to hide the guilt and shame gnawing at his insides.

“Shut up, you worthless mewling quim!” he snapped, straightening himself and brushing off his tunic as though her blows were nothing but an inconvenience. “The past doesn't matter. Winterfell is mine - The House of Theon Greyjoy, Lord of Winterfell, Warden in the North." unexpectedly, Y/N managed to land another harsh slap against his gaunt face, then spat him in the eyes.

"You may call yourself whatever you wish, but you will never earn the respect or aid of anyone! You’re nothing but a coward playing at being king in a castle that’s not yours! Do you really think this charade will last? You think you can be anything more than the Greyjoy runt, pathetic and spineless?!” she screeched at him even as he dug his hand into her hair and tugged harshly at it. "You don't know what happens to traitors, do you, Theon? Everyone hates a traitor."

Theon’s face flushed red as Y/N's words pierced through the thin veil of arrogance he had built around himself. For a moment, he wavered, the reality of the situation crashing into him - But his desperation to hold on to his fleeting power won out, and he grabbed her from the man's arms, slapping her face hard with his gloved hand; She simply grinned with defiance - No once could hit harder than Meryn Trant and his metal gauntlet. "You even hit like a cunt, Theon. You could never best me at anything."

Theon looked around at the gathered faces—faces of the people he had known for years, people who had served the Starks faithfully. They were not looking at him with fear or respect, but with contempt and disgust. His eyes flickered back to Y/N, who was still breathing heavily, her eyes filled with loathing and burning rage. Something shifted in him. For a moment, guilt seemed to seep into his features, but he masked it quickly with a cold glare.

“Lock her in her room.” he ordered with a dismissive wave of his hand, his voice trembling slightly. “I will teach some proper discipline into her later - And you will learn to scream my name from the top of your lungs - Lord Theon Greyjoy."

The old man holding Katrina hesitated, clearly torn between his loyalty to her and his fear of what Theon might do if defied. Y/N, however, stopped struggling, her fury replaced by a dangerous calm. "You don't have a big enough cock to fuck me, nor the balls to dare even approach me. That's why you could only get women through coin - You are everyone's laughing-stock, and that's what you will remain forever." she said, her voice low but venomous. “And mark my words — You will regret ever stepping foot in this castle.”

Theon flinched slightly at the threat, but he quickly turned away, trying to maintain an air of control as Y/N was swiftly led away by the remaining Stark loyalists who were afraid to see their Lady get in even more trouble. His grip on power was tenuous at best, and deep down, he knew it. Anarchy was approaching.

Y/N’s parting words echoed in his mind, and for a brief moment, a flicker of doubt crossed his face. He had lost his only true family in the Starks, and now even Y/N, the girl who had treated him like a brother for years, despised him, and rightfully so. Despite his stolen throne, Theon felt more alone than ever before.

She was supposed to become a prisoner in her own bedroom chambers, but Y/N Stark was no prisoner — At least, not for long. That night, before Theon could instill his faux sense of discipline and power on her, she escaped through the old tunnels she had explored as a child, her heart set on freedom and revenge. She fled back into the Wolfswood, where the wolves of her ancestors watched over her and awaited the Stark she-wolf to reclaim her home. Yes, the initial plan failed, but there was one last thing she could do -

Return to Ramsay Snow and get the Bolton army on her side.

Once she reached the forest edge close to the Dreadfort, Y/N dismounted and stumbled through the underbrush of the Wolfswood, her clothes torn and her face streaked with tears and dirt. Once she saw the fort in her sight, she took a deep breath and let out a long, haunting howl, the sound echoing through the trees like a wolf’s cry — A cry of both pain and a call for her true brethren to reunite as one once more.

She felt her voice tearing at her throat as she called out into the cold, sharp air. Her fury was boundless. It was the Boltons who had betrayed her family's trust, Roose Bolton who teamed up with Tywin Lannister and orchestrated the Red Wedding, the massacre that took her mother and her brother from her. He was going to pay for betraying her trust. They all will. She will have their skins.

Before long, the silence of the woods was broken. Meleys, her loyal Red Queen, sprinted through the undergrowth, her frozen eyes gleaming in the low light. Behind her, padding quietly, came Jade, her beloved fokin - But it was not just her darling animal-sisters who emerged from the darkness.

As she expected, Ramsay followed shortly after, his black hair wild and messy, his expression one of uncharacteristic joy at the sight of her. For a moment, a flicker of something softer passed through his icy blue eyes, a twinkle of hope. She had come back to him, the only living being he had ever truly wanted - She returned to him, just as she promised.

Y/N’s greeting was, however, far from warm and heartfelt; She snarled at him, her hand instinctively going for her bow. In one swift motion, she nocked an arrow and aimed it at his chest. “Y/N…” Ramsay began, his voice low, almost tender. "You've come back to—"

"Stop right there, you traitorous bastard!" she growled, her voice dripping with venom. She didn't care about the small smile that briefly flashed on his face, or the way his hands slowly rose as if in surrender. She loosed a warning arrow, purposefully missing him by inches, letting it thud dangerously into the trunk of a nearby tree. “Don’t you dare say my name!” she screamed, her voice shaking. Another arrow flew, this one even closer to him, landing in the snow at his feet. “You... you monster! How could you let this happen? How could you betray us? How could you betray me?”

Ramsay's smile faded, replaced by a look of confusion, then anger. His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t step forward. Not yet. How dare she accuse him?! And of what, he didn't even know - How dare she?! How DARE she?!

"Betray you?" Ramsay's voice was bubbling and sneering but laced with an undercurrent of fury. He finally realised - It was all about his father's betrayal of the Stark family. Of course. Of - fucking - course. He knew his father was going to ruin everything he ever did in his life - That blasted worm... "You think I had something to do with that?!”

"You’re a Bolton!" Katrina shouted, another arrow notched and ready. “Your father slaughtered my family! My mother, my brother! They were all butchered! Tortured! And for what? For Theon fucking Greyjoy to burn my little brothers alive and take Winterfell for himself?” her voice cracked, and tears welled up in her eyes, though she refused to let them fall. "You knew! You had to have known!"

“I didn’t!” Ramsay spat, his voice growing desperate as her accusations cut into him. “I had nothing to do with it!” his tone was raising with every bit of defense he had to shout to be heard.

"LIAR!" Y/N screamed, and her voice broke as the tears finally spilled down her cheeks. “You’re no different than him! You’re just like your father, Ramsay! You’re—”

In that moment, Ramsay snapped, something inside him, probably his sanity, shattered. The frustration, the rage, the desperation to make her understand, to stop her from hating him - They all boiled over. With a savage growl, he moved faster than she could react, lunging forward and knocking the bow from her hands.

He slammed her back against a nearby tree, his hands gripping her shoulders with a bruising force; She gasped, her breath coming in ragged pants as she stared up at him, wide-eyed like a fawn and trembling, her heart pounding furiously in her chest.

“Shut up!” Ramsay growled through gritted teeth, his face inches from hers. “You don’t get to talk to me like that. You don’t get to blame me for what he did!” he snarled at her like a rabid beast.

Y/N’s breath hitched, and for a brief moment, she was silenced — Bot by fear, but by the intensity of Ramsay’s gaze on her. It burned into her, wild, petrifying and unhinged, filled with emotions she couldn’t quite decipher. Her tears streamed down her face in endless waterfalls, and she tried to shove him away, but he only pressed her harder against the tree, their bodies closer than ever before.

“I have nothing to do with that.” Ramsay snarled, his breath hot against her face. “Nothing - Yet you… You came back, just to accuse me like this?”

She opened her mouth to protest, to explain herself, but before she could speak, Ramsay’s lips crashed against hers in a violent, desperate kiss. Her entire body tensed, shocked by the suddenness of it, by the raw hunger in the way his mouth moved against hers. She tried pushing against him, her mind going crazy, but Ramsay was relentless, strong, and his hands were gripping her tighter as if he was trying to claim her once again, to force her back into submission.

For a moment, her mind blanked, overwhelmed by the intensity of the kiss, her very first kiss; The way his lips devoured hers with a desperation she had never seen in him before. When she finally managed to shove him off, they both stood there, breathing heavily, the air thick with unspoken emotions.

“What…” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. “What did you—”

Ramsay’s eyes softened for just a moment. “I didn't betray you.” he said, his voice quieter now, like a threatening low whisper. “Don't ever do that to me ever again. Not even the Old Gods could stop me from tearing you apart if you accuse me of such horse shite ever again. You hear me?!"

She glared at him through her tears, still uncertain, still struggling with the whirlwind of emotions tearing her apart. She wanted to believe him, wanted to believe that Ramsay wasn’t involved in the betrayal of her family, but the bitterness of grief and the sting of betrayal ran deep.

“I will kill him.” Ramsay promised, his voice turning dark again as he took a step closer, his hands still resting on her shoulders. “Once he legitimises me, I will kill him. He deserves it for everything he did to me - To us." he hissed softly, his lips almost touching her again. "I will flay him alive for you."

Y/N looked up at him, her expression torn. She was still angry, still grieving, but the conviction in his voice made her pause; She believed him. “I heard what that worthless cockroach did to your home.” Ramsay continued, his voice dripping with venom. “I will gift you Winterfell back, and Theon Greyjoy's skin made into a flag."

Y/N’s lips trembled, her heart torn between hatred and hope. She stared up at Ramsay, her thoughts swirling. She had seen so much darkness, so much death - And yet, through all the horrors of the world, Ramsay Snow remained the only person she fully trusted... The one person who might be twisted and screwed in the head enough to give her the vengeance she craved.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke, the air between them heavy with tension. Finally, she nodded, her voice a soft, broken whisper. “Bring me Winterfell… And bring me Theon Greyjoy. Alive, but not for long.”

Ramsay’s lips curled into a wicked smile as he leaned down, his forehead brushing against hers. “It’s yours.” he whispered. “All of it.” his lips trailed down to her ear, whispering sultry. "All of me."

For the first time in a long time in may painful years, Y/N felt a gleaming of something resembling hope — Dark, twisted, insane hope, but hope nonetheless. They would take Winterfell back, and they would make sure that every betrayal was paid for in blood - That's what he promised her; She kept her promise to him, and it was time for him to reciprocate.

Winterfell will be reclaimed by the shocking wit of the bastard of the Dreadfort - Truly, not only did Y/N never imagine he would be so witty, but also such a fantastic actor; He would play the role of a half-wit peasant called Reek, bring her to Theon as a prize, and gain his trust - Trust which will be oh-so-satisfyingly shattered once Reek betrays him and becomes Ramsay once more... And he will learn his place, that pesky little filth.

The frigid winds howled through the corridors of Winterfell, but within the walls, tension simmered hotter than any hearth. The once-proud castle of Winterfell was shadowed by the Kraken banners of House Greyjoy, their sigil hanging where the direwolf of Stark once stood tall and proud for generations.

Ramsay had donned the rags of a peasant, dirtying himself with soot and mud until he was nothing more than a shadow of the handsome yet brutal man he truly was.

He became "Reek", it rhymes with "Meek", it rhymes with "Leek", it rhymes with "Weak" - a pathetic and broken figure, eager to please and loyal only to Lord Theon Greyjoy. Y/N, playing along, allowed herself to be dragged in as his prisoner, bound and silent, though her eyes burned with cold fury and thirst for a torturous revenge.

Theon, still drunk on his fleeting power-trip, was easily fooled by their flawless charade; He sneered at Y/N, mocked her, and paraded her around like a trophy in front of her people. "Lookie here, Lady Stark came back home!" he struck her face so hard she fell to the ground. Each word, each cruel jest, was like a knife twisted in Y/N’s heart repeatedly, and added salt and cyanide - But she held herself together, knowing that it was only temporary.

She could feel the storming wrath in Ramsay's eyes - The humiliation won't last long, before he snaps and goes berserk. Theon had fallen too far to see the trap being laid for him. Even as he and "Reek" bonded over Y/N’s torment, the bastard’s true self remained hidden, seething beneath the surface, watching and waiting impatiently to destroy this worthless cunt who thinks himself a King.

One of Greyjoy's favourite ways of tormenting the she-wolf was to degrade her in front of his Ironborn; He'd force her to kneel before him, his foot on her shoulder, and would belittle her. "You like kneeling for men, don't you, Y/N? Is that what you did in King's Landing? Whore yourself for any man who gave you attention?" he laughed mockingly at her, looking at Reek for validation, to see if his joke was funny. "The proud Lady Stark, sucking cock like a greedy slut!" he wanted to go further, to take out his dick and dangle it in her face - But something in him couldn't go that far; Was it their previous sibling bond, or the fact that he practically froze under the harsh blizzard-like glare of her eyes - He kicked her to the ground, having his people drag her back to her room, before he took Reek away from there.

Reek kept his eyes downcast and his hands clenched into fists whenever Theon mistreated his sweet little thorny rose. He would swallow down his rage, pretending to be the loyal, cowardly "Reek" who would never dare to defy his master. His nails would dig into his palms until they drew blood, the pain a reminder to keep his cover intact, no matter how badly he wanted to rip Theon apart with his bare hands. He will pay with his skin, and not only. The more he saw Theon mistreating his darling, the more he wanted to make him feel eternal pain. He will lose his cock, his finger nails, toe nails, and more...

He would shove her around, slap her, hit her, insult her and more; So many threats of him fucking a bastard into her womb, and that he will beat her pregnant belly until she loses the babe; Each word he addressed her way became a new way of Ramsay to torture him.

But one night he went to far... Too far, even for Ramsay to accept. Theon had dragged him into Lady Stark's chambers; He buried his hand into her hair, throwing her onto the bed, his hands gripping at her slender body. "Don't you fucking dare..." came a low, guttural rumble, a threat, a warning... But the Kraken was deaf and blind; He ripped the bodice of her dress and with a weirdly strong grip, he tried to spread her legs apart for him to get to her honeyed core. "I will tear you apart, Theon Greyjoy."

"Shut up, you greedy little whore, I know you're desperate for me... You've always looked at me, since we were little..." with a strike to her face, he slumped over her body, rendering her unable to struggle away. "Don't play coy with me - I know you're not pure anymore - You cannot be."

"Listen to me, Theon Greyjoy - I am not yours to claim." she smirked with wicked defiance; She knew her wait was over, and she could rise up and riot. "The only man allowed to claim me is Ramsay Bolton."

"Then I'll make sure to tell him how tight your cunt is." his hand was fumbling with his breeches, ready to take his cock out and fulfill his promise, until...

"I'd like to see you try." Theon was fell limp over Y/N's body, knocked unconscious by an iron poker struck onto his head. "You don't get to touch her - Filth." THE Theon Greyjoy crumpled to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut, his body lifeless except for the shallow rise and fall of his chest, as Ramsay had to restrain himself to jump on him and punch him to death - He deserved far, far worse for even daring to touch his precious Kitten's skin... Let alone think he can CLAIM her.

"Took you long enough." Y/N found herself panting for air, regaining her senses.

"Be glad I'm not claiming you right now." he was trembling with anger as he hissed under his breath.

"You can claim me in front of him." her bold, teasing voice made him snap at her, his eyes wide, tormented. "Down in the dungeons, when you've had your way torturing him... After you cut that useless prick off... Tormented him..."

"Shut up." he growled at her. "Get your people back, raise your flag - Just get away from me." his warning made a shiver go down her spine, and she scurried away from her chambers. She'd never seen Ramsay so pissed that he couldn't control himself even around her. She will let him have his fun for a while, let him cool down on his own, before she returns to check on him.

She moved to the court where the few remaining people of Winterfell— Those who had not yet been driven away or killed — Waited in tense silence. They had seen the Starks fall, seen the banners torn down and replaced with the Kraken of the Ironborn. But now, standing before them, was their last glimmer of hope — The rightful heir to Winterfell. The Queen in the North.

Y/N looked out at the faces of her people, her voice ringing out clear and strong, despite the bruise forming on her cheek. “Theon Greyjoy is no more. Winterfell is our home once more!" there was no mistaking the fierce determination that burned within her - The Scarlet She-Wolf of the Stark House. Once she cupped her hands to her mouth, she let out a loud howl, haunting, booming, alert; Meleys joined in, and from the forest, many more were heard.

The Stark Wolves howled under the Northern Moon once again.

After the bastard finished tying up the naked, unconscious Theon Greyjoy on a wooden X-cross in the dungeons, he went out, watching his Kitten's loud meowing from the shadows, and he held a satisfied smirk on his face. That was his girl, he thought to herself, feeling power brewing in his chest as the people cheered loudly on her - Queen in the North, Lady Y/N Stark - With all the strength and fury of the North.

He slipped away, heading toward the gates where his own forces waited in the cover of night. He signaled them, and like a tidal wave, the Bastard's Boys stormed the premises, decimating any Ironborn still alive. Of course, Y/N wasn't happy to see foreign armies in her home - Alas, she had to accept it for a while.

Back in the dungeons, Theon awoke to the cold, damp darkness, his head throbbing and his wrists bound tightly with burning ropes. He could hear the distant sounds of battle above, the faint screams of his men as they were cut down one by one. Panic surged through him, but before he could cry out, the door to his cell creaked open, and Ramsay stepped inside, carrying the Greyjoy flag in his hands.

With a cruel grin, Ramsay unfolded the Kraken banner before Theon’s wide, terrified eyes. “You’ve made quite a mess of this place, haven’t you, Theon?” Ramsay drawled, his voice mocking. “But don’t worry, I’ll be sure to clean it up.”

With a twisted grin, Ramsay unceremoniously pissed on the Greyjoy flag, defiling it just as Theon had defiled Winterfell. The stench filled the air, and Theon recoiled in horror, but Ramsay only laughed — A dark, mirthless sound that echoed through the dungeon like a death knell.

Ramsay approached him slowly, his leather gloves creaking as he flexed his fingers. His expression was calm, almost serene, but the fire in his pale blue eyes told a different story. He was eager, too eager to start, but he reined himself in, savoring the anticipation. He wanted to make Theon fully aware of what was coming before he even laid a hand on him.

"Reek?! What - How did I get here?! Go on, get me out of here! What are you waiting for?!" but Theon was horrified to see the empty grin of Reek growing ever wider... Twisted, cruel, malicious. "Reek...?! I order you, as Lord Theon Greyjoy, to get me the hell out of here!"

"Y/N was right, you are as stupid as it gets." the bastard scoffed. "I am not 'Reek' - You are! You are Reek." he got close to his face. "And I - I am Ramsay Bolton." Theon's eyes widened with shock and horror, realising he tried to rape this psychopath's woman in front of him; He threatened and tormented her - In front of him.

“You thought you could have her...” Ramsay said, his voice soft, almost conversational, as he circled Theon like a wolf preparing to strike. “Y/N - MY Y/N." he hummed softly. "The Red She-Wolf Queen in the North, Y/N Stark, The Lady of Winterfell... Otherwise known as my precious little Kitten.” He smiled darkly as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against Theon's ear. “You thought you could take what’s mine?”

Theon’s eyes widened with terror, but he couldn’t respond with words that weren't protests or pleas. in his mouth. “Please… Ramsay…” Theon stammered, his voice trembling with fear. “I didn’t mean—”

“Shhh…” Ramsay placed a gloved finger to Theon’s lips, cutting him off. “I’m not interested in your excuses, Greyjoy. I’m interested in watching you suffer.”

Without another word, Ramsay picked up a small, sharp blade from his table of tools. He held it up for Theon to see, letting the dim light from the torches glint off the steel. He then moved toward Theon's hand, grabbing it roughly. Ramsay pressed the blade to Theon's fingers, drawing shallow cuts along the tips—just enough to sting, just enough to let Theon feel the sharpness of the pain before the real suffering began.

He gasped and grunted, squirming, trying to pull his hand away, but Ramsay held him firm, his grip painful and firm. “This is only the foreplay.” Ramsay whispered, his voice dark and dangerous. “You’ll feel every inch of what I’m about to do to you - And I’ll enjoy every second.”

The bastard had chosen a small patch of skin on Theon's chest located where he knew the pain would radiate and linger. He peeled back the flesh slowly, deliberately, relishing in the sight of Theon's blood as it oozed from the wound, along with his screams; His body was convulsing with excruciating agony, but Ramsay remained unfazed - In fact, his nether regions grow hot with desire and lust; He always got aroused when torturing people. His hands worked expertly, and every cry from Theon only seemed to spur him on.

“You should have known better - You have only yourself to blame, Reek.” Ramsay said with an almost casual tone as he continued his work. “You think you’re a lord, you think you’re in control, but you’re not. You never were. Y/N could never belong to a filthy wretch like you. You’re nothing. Nothing but an urchin pretending to be a lord.”

As Theon’s screams grew louder, Ramsay only leaned in closer, whispering in his ear. “This is what happens when you try to steal what belongs to me.”

Once Ramsay was satisfied with the patch of flayed skin, he moved on to Theon’s fingers again, this time bending them back slowly until he heard the satisfying crack of bones breaking. Theon’s howls echoed through the dungeon - Utterly powerless, utterly broken.

“What’s wrong, Reek?” Ramsay mocked, his voice dripping with amusement. “These fingers tried to touch my woman. I either remove them, or kill you, you see? You have to get purified if you want to remain alive."

Theon, shaking from both pain and terror, could only whimper in response - He wasn't quite sure if he wanted to continue living or not, the pain was unbearable. His body was drenched in sweat, his skin pale, and his breath came in ragged gasps, and Ramsay wasn’t done. He wanted more. He needed to hear Theon beg, to hear him plead for the mercy that would never come.

Ramsay brought out a thin iron rod, heated in the fire until it glowed red-hot. He held it up, letting Theon see it, letting him anticipate the pain to come. “It's getting rather cold in here, don't you think? And you're all naked... Let me heat you up a little!” Ramsay exclaimed with a wicked grin.

“Please… Please, no more!” Theon sobbed, his voice barely audible through the tears. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”

Ramsay’s grin only widened as he pressed the hot iron against Theon’s thigh. The stench of burning flesh filled the air as Theon screamed louder than ever, his entire body shaking with agony. Ramsay watched with dark satisfaction, his eyes gleaming with twisted delight as Theon writhed in pain beneath him.

But then... The bastard went on to remove that worthless little prick of his... And Theon Greyjoy lost consciousness from the agony.

With Winterfell reclaimed once more, Roose Bolton had reason to celebrate, and so did the Crown, who not only appointed him Warden of the North; but offered his bastard son the legitimisation every bastard dreamt of; Ramsay Snow was no more - Ramsay Bolton finally took over - And Roose was going to make a special trip to tell him just that.

The grand hall of Winterfell had been transformed for the feast. Lord Bolton, as imposing as ever, entered, met with a display of power and wealth. Y/N had spared no expense in preparing a lavish meal - His last meal. The long table was covered with roasted meats, warm bread, and jugs of dark wine. The hall glowed with the light of torches and hearths, and a low hum of music filled the air.

Ramsay stood at the head of the table, his face a mask of restraint, as his father entered. Katrina was seated beside him, regal and defiant, her eyes never leaving Roose's cold figure.

Roose barely acknowledged her at first, his eyes fixed on Ramsay. "You've done well, Ramsay." Roose remarked, his tone devoid of warmth as he took his seat. "Winterfell is yours. You’ve managed not to disgrace the name I gave you, for once." as harsh as ever. "Now, you are truly Ramsay Bolton." with that, he threw the letter at his son.

That letter had arrived from King's Landing just that day - Ramsay Snow truly was no more. He had been legitimized by the King's royal decree. He was now Ramsay Bolton, the only living true son of Lord Bolton, no longer the Bastard of Bolton. This was everything Ramsay had ever desired — Power, status, and legitimacy.

This was it - He had the Dreadfort, he had the Bolton name, and he had Y/N. He had everything he ever wanted in his grasp.

It was time to take one step further; He will be the son of Lord Bolton no more - He will be Lord Bolton.

Ramsay smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Thank you, father.”

But as the feast began, Roose turned his attention to Katrina, eyeing her in a manner that made Ramsay’s blood boil. The cold Lord of the Dreadfort spoke of her as though she were little more than a breeding sow, not even present in the room.

“She’s a Stark.” Roose said dismissively between bites of food. “Strong bloodline - But don’t let her think she has power of Winterfell, Ramsay - She’s just a woman after all. Her worth is in her womb, in the heirs she can give you. Many heirs... Strong boys to continue our line.”

Y/N’s face twisted with fury at the crude comment, and Ramsay’s fist clenched beneath the table. He had never been a man to hide his anger well, but for a moment, he restrained himself. His eyes flickered toward his sweetling, and he could see her seething. Roose's words had wounded her pride, and that was something Ramsay would never allow. He spoke ill of her far too many times - But he will speak no more.

After a few more tense exchanges that he hadn't even heard, Ramsay stood and moved toward his father, his expression darkening. “You’ve always been so wise, father.” Ramsay said in a soft voice, though the undercurrent of malice was undeniable. “And I have always sought your approval.”

Roose raised an eyebrow, clearly suspicious of the sudden shift in his son's demeanor, but before he could react, Ramsay pulled him into an embrace, feigning affection. "But I’m afraid it’s time for you to step aside." Ramsay whispered into his father's ear. "I am Lord Bolton now."

In one swift motion, Ramsay plunged a dagger deep into Roose’s gut. The older man gasped in shock and the sharp pain of the twist, eyes wide with disbelief. He tried to pull away, but Ramsay held him close, continuing to twist the blade cruelly, to make him feel the same pain he always did. The hall fell into stunned silence as the Lord of the Dreadfort staggered backward, blood pouring from the wound.

“Goodbye, father.” Ramsay sneered as Roose collapsed to the ground, his hands desperately clutching at the bleeding wound. Ramsay’s eyes shifted to Meleys, the red wolf that had been protectively waiting at Y/N’s side. “Meleys.” he called, his voice cold as winter’s night. The wolf moved with deadly grace, approaching Roose with glowing, hungry eyes. With one swift leap, Meleys tore into Roose's already weakened form, ripping flesh from bone as blood pooled on the stone floor, her red fur mingling with his red blood.

Y/N watched the scene unfold with a dark satisfaction in her eyes, not even realising she was grinning. There was no remorse, no sorrow— Only cold justice and triumph. She had grown ruthless, just as life had molded her to be. And now, her tormentor was dead. She felt no pity for Roose Bolton. He had betrayed her family, destroyed everything she once held dear. His death was a small payment for the suffering he had caused.

As the last breath escaped Roose’s lips, Y/N turned to Ramsay. “He deserved worse.” she said softly.

Ramsay smiled. “I thought so too, but I wanted to give you a special gift."

Katrina’s lips curved into a small, bitter smile. “Truth is - While I was in King’s Landing, I took a potion - Something to ensure I would never bear children. I almost died, and the pain was excruciating, but it paid off. As a prisoner, I couldn’t allow anyone to use me for my bloodline - As their political pawn and breeding-stock." she let out an empty chuckle. "I never wanted heirs anyway - And neither did you."

Ramsay stared at her for a moment, processing the words. Slowly, his smile returned, but this time it was something different — Almost relieved. “You clever, clever kitten.” he murmured, stroking her cheek, painting her skin with the blood of his father. “No babes, no risk of you dying in childbirth, no squalling brats to annoy me. You’ve just made everything so much easier for the both of us.” he grinned all sultry and enticing. "I never could resist you."

Katrina chuckled softly, leaning into his touch. “I am yours, Ramsay. Yours and yours alone. No one will ever take that from you.”

Ramsay’s hand trailed down to her throat, his thumb brushing over her pulse. “Good.” he whispered, his voice low and possessive. “Because I’ve never wanted to share you with anyone.”

Katrina looked into his eyes, seeing the madness, the obsession, but also the devotion that lurked beneath. She knew she had tamed the beast within him, at least enough to keep him by her side. Ramsay had given her everything — Her home, her revenge, and even himself — And in return, she had given him herself, Always and Forever.

"I've got something to show you." the man dragged her back into her chamber, and showed her the beautiful Stark flag gently swaying with the wind. "Perfect view." he stood behind her, his arms around her waist holding her in a tight embrace, his chin resting on her shoulder. "How do you feel being back home, Lady Stark?" the closeness was intoxicating him, suffocating him - And he was craving more.

"Perfect, now that you're here with me." her innocently genuine comment made the man instinctively tighten his grip on her; He wanted desperately to get lost in her heat.

She could feel his heat against her back, the possessiveness in the way his hands lingered at her hips. There was a tension in his touch, a dark hunger that sent a shiver down her spine. But she wasn’t afraid - She never was afraid of him. Instead, there was something else building inside her, something that had been growing for some time now. She was craving his touch more than she needed air to breathe.

Y/N turned slowly to face him, her eyes locking with his. There was a storm in those gorgeous icy blue eyes of his, one that both excited and thrilled her. She could feel her heart racing in her chest, the tension between them palpable, suffocating.

"Ramsay." she spoke in a tender whisper, filled with curiosity and desire. "What do boys and girls do together when they grow up?"

His breath hitched as he remembered the many times he had teased her about that when they were younger; He loved toying with her innocence. The way Ramsay looked at her, the way his fingers brushed along her waist, set her heart racing in a way she didn’t fully understand.

"Show me." she whispered, her voice trembling with anticipation and need.

Ramsay’s smirk widened, and without warning, he pushed her back against the bed, his hands gripping her waist firmly. His touch was rough, possessive, and it sent a wave of heat coursing through her veins. His lips hovered inches from hers, teasing, taunting, as he held her there, trapped between him and the comfortable bed underneath her.

"You want it, don’t you?" he whispered, his voice dripping with dark amusement. "My sweet, greedy kitten… You’ve wanted this all along... You've been craving my touch for so long..."

Y/N’s breath came in short, sharp gasps as his words sent a flush of heat and arousal through her body. She didn't know what he was doing to her, but she wanted this... The way his mere words stirred her insides... She was nervous and excited to see what else she could feel... With his breath warm against her lips, and his body pressed against hers.

"Yes." she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, her pride crumbling beneath the weight of her desire for him

"Have you been touching yourself, thinking of me, sweetling?" Ramsay’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction, and he leaned in closer, his lips brushing hers in the lightest of kisses before pulling back again, teasing her mercilessly. "So greedy." he murmured, his voice full of dark amusement, watching that precious blush of hers. "I’ve barely touched you, and already you’re begging for more."

She let out a soft whimper of frustration, her hands gripping his shoulders as she tried to pull him closer, but he held her firmly in place, refusing to give in just yet. His lips trailed down her neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake, and she could feel the heat pooling in her belly, the need for him growing stronger with every passing second. "Ramsay..." she whined out his name, her voice thick with need. "Stop teasing me... You're so cruel..."

He chuckled darkly, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, "But where’s the fun in that, my little naughty kitty-cat?" his hands slid lower, teasing her waist, his touch light and maddeningly slow. She could feel her pulse quickening, her breath coming in ragged gasps as the anticipation built to an unbearable crescendo. He knew exactly what he was doing to her — Knew how much she wanted him, how much she needed him — And he reveled in it and the power he held over her.

"You’re mine, Y/N. Forever and Always." Ramsay growled softly, his voice thick with possessiveness. "And I will make sure you never forget who you belong to."

He finally gave in to her silent pleas, his lips crashing down on hers with a fierce, demanding intensity. Y/N moaned sweetly into the kiss, her hands tangling in his dark hair as she pulled him closer, desperate for more. The scorching heat between them was electric, a wildfire that had been building for far too long, and now that it had been unleashed, there was no stopping it.

Ramsay’s hands roamed her body with a possessive hunger, his touch rough and insistent, but she didn’t care — She wanted this, needed this. She had been denying herself for too long, and now, in the darkness of her home, with the snow falling outside and the fire crackling behind them, she finally let go and embraced his hedonism.

When he pulled back, his breath heavy, Ramsay smirked down at her, his eyes dark with satisfaction. She looked so kissable, so needy, so innocent and in need of corruption.

"Such a greedy little kitten... All for me..." he teased, his voice low and full of dark amusement. "Just as I always knew you would be." his whisper was husky and sultry. "Insatiable, greedy, needy... Only for me."

Y/N glared weakly at him, blushing through the timidness of a demure maiden in all her glory, purer than the Maiden, and far more beautiful than the Moon herself - And she was burning with desire that was not even close to being satisfied. "And whose fault is that?" she shot back, her voice breathless.

Ramsay chuckled darkly, leaning in to nip at her lower lip, sending another shiver down her spine. "Mine, of course. I love spoiling my haughty little sweetling." he admitted, his voice full of dark pride and impure thought. "The night is not long enough for all the things I want to do to you..."

In the aftermath of countless betrayals and bloodshed, the North was finally restored to its rightful rulers - House Stark. Y/N Stark, with the aid of her Lord Husband, Ramsay Bolton, had reclaimed Winterfell - She united the world once more with a claim as strong as that of the previous King in the North, her dear brother, the Young Wolf, Robb Stark; She became Queen in the North, ruling with a wisdom and wit, aided by the ruthless strategies of her beloved Ramsay - And even more surprisingly, the aid of her little brothers, who had survived Theon's siege - They were brought back by Meera and Jojen Reed.

Theon Greyjoy, now a broken man, lived as "Reek" — A forever shattered reflection of the once-proud yet pathetic Ironborn prince. He became Ramsay's pitiful plaything, his mind too far gone to remember even his own true name.

Far away in the Eyrie, Sansa Stark took over the Vale after Sandor had to throw her Lady aunt, Lysa Arryn, through the Moon Door after she dared attack his beloved songbird out of sheer jealousy - Sansa was far more beautiful than Lysa ever was. The she-wolf willingly married Sandor Clegane out of love, feeling safe and sound in his strong, protective embrace for the first time since she left home. Sansa became Warden in the East, and Y/N's eternal ally, just as their Catelyn and Lysa used to be... As Ned and Jon used to be...

The direwolves returned to the North as well, filling the halls of Winterfell with the howl of 'home' once more. Though Grey Wind was dead, and Ghost was loyally protective Jon at Castle Black, everyone else replaced the Stark siblings for Y/N, whenever she missed her sweet brothers and sisters a little too much. The family was sort-of reunited... The pack survived... But at what cost?

Across the Narrow Sea, Daenerys Targaryen, the true Heir to the Crown, laid her claim over King's Landing, with the aid of her dragons and Tyrion Lannister as her Hand; Cersei Lannister and her devil-spawn child were no more; Myrcella had married the Prince of Dorne and happily remained there, whilst Tommen was more than willing to go to his bride, Margaery Tyrell, and live in the peace and prosperity of Highgarden. No doubt, the happiest was Jaime Lannister, who happily married Brienne of Tarth and returned to Casterly Rock as the Warden of the West, enjoying, for once, a normal life, away from the drama of the Crown, and all that his father and sister brought along.

With peace finally settling over Westeros, Daenerys married Jon - Who found out was actually Aegon Targaryen, the only living son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell;

Together they united in A Song of Ice and Fire.

And what became of the little rat of Winterfell? Arya hadn't stepped in Westeros of ages - She was living her best life, traveling West of Westeros, discovering what was never discovered, venturing into the unknown, and exploring to her heart's content. She was the happiest she could ever be. Perhaps, some day, she would return, homesick - Until then, she will become Nymeria of the Rhoynar and sail into the vast horizon.

The terrible Winds of Winter had dissipated, and the Dream of Spring nurtured blooming hope and joy into the people of Westeros once more.

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Being in a relationship with Hatsumi Sen...

☁️There was no way you could possibly forget your childhood bestie - The coolest guy alive, Hatsumi Sen - Or, as he liked you to call him, Hatsumi Sen-pai.

☁️Such a laid-back menace of a boy, but all the same, the bestest of friend a girl could hope to have.

☁️He was always so sweet with you, even though you were a little younger than you - All the same, he designated himself as 'Y/N's Protector' in front of your mum, so that she'd let you hang out with him for longer.

☁️Your mum was evidently impressed by his confidence and trusted his with your safety, of course.

☁️Not that you'd encounter any trouble, when you have Hatsumi Sen-pai around!

☁️The two of you would go together through the park, and he'd show off the latest Aikido moves he learnt from his grandpa, and how no kid would dare pick on you while he's around!

☁️Sen was always your #1 hero and nothing will ever change about that.

☁️He would pick you up and put you on his shoulders so you could reach up to places too tall for you.

☁️He felt very strong and cool being able to carry around a cute little thing like you.

☁️And it made you smile and laugh so sweetly, how could he not enjoy himself when he was making you so happy?

☁️He was the one to always play with you in the park, and if there were things you couldn't do, he'd do them for you - Like flying a kite, hanging upside down from a tall tree branch so he can give you a cute spiderman-like kiss.

☁️He introduced you to the world of public fights, taught you all the theoretical things about it, and got you all hyped about everything fighting-related.

☁️Sen was also in the Aikidou club at his school and invited you to be his pretty cheerleader ever time he had a school tournament.

☁️Of course, he was always winning his matches, earning gold medals and trophies and what not-

☁️Truth is, were it not for you being so enthusiastic and cheering for him to win, he wouldn't have bothered waking up and crawling out of his comfy, warm bed...

☁️He just couldn't resist that adorable smile of yours, or how you'd jump up and down, yelling his name to encourage him - And after each match, you'd kiss his cheek, and he'd just melt.

☁️Nothing else was worth leaving his house - Nothing else, but you.

☁️Furthermore, all his awards are actually in your house; He didn't acknowledge any of those silly matches as worth his time or a proper light on his skills - Not when his ambition is to become the very strongest man alive.

☁️Unfortunately, once Sen finished highschool, he was ready to spread his wings and fly; To properly pursue a full-time fighting career, to get better, stronger, faster...

☁️It broke his heart, seeing him leave the city - Leave YOU - Knowing you may never see your bestie ever again.

☁️Sen had always liked women - Women were gorgeous - But he knew since he was a little young lad, that he would only ever want his first kiss to be you;

☁️Before he left, he gently cupped your face and surprised you with a lingering sweet kiss - One special kiss that only you would get from him - His darling sweet princess.

☁️'I will always find you, cutie. I am your knight in shining armor, aren't I? Hatsumi Sen-pai. You aren't allowed to ever have any Senpai other than me, okay?'

☁️And you never did.

☁️You would soon grow up and decide to pursue a medical career; You were always a more career-orientated person, down to earth and intelligent... While he was nothing more than a floating cloud in the vast blue sky.

☁️Over a decade passed since you finished highschool and managed to get through University and get a decent grip on your career.

☁️Hatsumi, in the meantime, trained like crazy, found a pretty girl named Shion Soryuin whom he dated - And cheated on....

☁️Became a proud patron of the Gold Pleasure Group.

☁️Hatsumi always did enjoy his pretty girls, after all.

☁️Yet there never came one night, before going to sleep, when he wouldn't think about your pretty smile and how excited you were for him to save her.

☁️Hatsumi Sen was only ever going to be your hero, and no one else's.

☁️He did feel sorry for the way he treated Shion - Hence why he never did date officially no other woman - But his thoughts lingered to you every so often.

☁️You, on the other hand, for the longest time of your medical career, have been harassed and never felt safe since Hatsumi left your life;

☁️You had befriended a very nice gentleman called Wakatsuki Takeshi - He was your new best friend, always reliable and gentle with you - And you asked what you should do about this misfortune of yours.

☁️You wanted to learn self-defense, but in a way that it didn't require signing up to subscriptions and what not - You didn't have enough time to bother with overly strict teachers and what not...

☁️He told you to go at night to this shady pub, and ask around for this man called the 'Floating Cloud'.

☁️And you did just that.

☁️You were terrified - It was midnight, and you were sitting alone in the corner table of a run-down shack pub, filled with drunk creepy men who seemed to stare at her.

☁️Every night, you'd go there, but the man wasn't there; Every night, you'd return home, terrified out of your mind, to the point you were even afraid to stay home alone, an unfortunate reality you were plagued with for many years.

☁️Your only comfort was that your friend, 'Tsuki-san, wanted you to be safe, so the two of you would text the whole time she was out of the house, and even had a man he trusted from his uncle's company be your designated driver until you find the man who's supposed to train you.

One day, two days, three and more, until finally, as she was drinking a coke at one of the tables and doing some light reading, a man sat down dangerously close to her. He looked middle aged, with a pleasant, easy-going expression, and very long, beautiful looking chestnut hair. He was wearing a simple light blue shirt with flowers, and he looked like the very definition of a dad.

The oddest thing about him was that, after Y/N got over her fear of him, she looked into his eyes and immediately melted; Why did this man look so familiar? So... Gentle and trust-inspiring? For reasons unknown to her, she trusted this man as soon as she set her gaze on him.

He put his arm around the girl's shoulder and leaned back on the chair. "I heard you've been asking around about me quite a lot, little lady. What would a cute girl like you be wanting from me? It's not safe being late at night in a dump like this. Aren't you afraid?" he asked very leisurely.

"Terrified out of my mind." Y/N chuckled nervously. "But my friend, 'Tsuki-san, has been texting me the whole time, and even hired a driver to make sure I get home safe." she looked down sheepishly, scratching at her hands a little. "My friend, 'Tsuki-san, recommended you as the best aikido master."  Who was this 'Tsuki-san she was talking about. Wait, it couldn't be --

"Are you talking about Wakatsuki Takeshi?!" his eyes widened in shock.

"Yep!" she smiled so sweetly that it caught the man off guard. Her vibes immediately changed, and she looked more relaxed around him.

"Al... Righty then. I see there's a lot to unpack here. What's going on? There's no way a pretty girl like you wants to learn aikidou, especially from someone like me. I dwell in dangerous, underground business - You wouldn't want to get caught up in it." he spoke so mysteriously that it amused the girl.

"Is that your only concern? Endangering me? Ha! How cute." her giggle made the man look quite surprised at her - She was damn pretty! How was he supposed to focus on training her, when he just wants to look at her pretty face? "I earned quite a lot of money betting on Kengan matches. There's hardly anything I would be afraid of - Still; 'Tsuki-san told me aikidou would suit me and my frail physique... I struggle opening water bottles sometimes, you see... My studies, my work, they keep me busy and chronically exhausted all the time... And I can't protect myself." her voice went a little softer at the end. "Quite pathetic, don't you think?"

That self-deprecating chuckle of hers ripped Hatsumi's heart into pieces; She was so much like him, he thought, remembering how many times he called himself a pathetic failure, unworthy and useless... Despicable even.

Still, she was a successful career woman who had the misfortune of falling prey to the ugly side of the world... No one can do everything, all at once, perfectly well; But he can't even do the thing he dedicated his life to.

"I really need your help. I know it's going to be a huge bother, trying to teach me anything... I'm awful at sports and I'm afraid of getting hurt. I don't have anything to give you, either. But I'd really appreciate it if you were to take me in as your student." she explained, and the more she spoke, the more Hatsumi felt absolutely blocked.

Not only has he never taught anyone before, but now, a super cute girl was asking him to be her master - Recommended by Wakatsuki no less! And she's not in the least bothered or afraid of any danger that being involved with the kengan world would imply.

"Ahhh... My, my, I can't just outright refuse a pretty girl like you. How about we take a walk and you tell me why you want aikido in the first place. You're a really odd one, so naturally, I'm pretty interested in you." the man said, guiding the girl outside of that hell hole of a bar. "I'll walk you home, how's that sound?" naturally, you agreed. The night was gorgeous to take a stroll, especially when you're not terrified by what lurks in the shadows. "I once saw this old, short guy taking down multiple super big guys with such ease that I... I started imagining what it would have been like, years ago, if I could do the same thing, and I wouldn't have had to go through the bad stuff that I did. The old guy said - Aiki is a fighting style that anyone can do. You use your opponent's strength against them - And I wondered... If even an old, frail, wrinkly guy like him could do that... Maybe even I could stop being so pathetic all the time, and letting people take advantage of me. Maybe I will finally stop hating myself for never being able to go as far as I want to."  the man was silent through it all. "Maybe I'll stop hating myself so much and live my life fearlessly."

Hatsumi continued walking with his arm around her shoulders. He was too deep in thought to realise that he had to speak out. This girl reminds him of himself, more or less.

How many times did he, in the past, but still, even now, call himself pathetic? How many times did he scold himself for not being able to do anything properly? He's always running away from responsibility, from fears... So what if he's strong? Is he the strongest? No. Can he be the strongest? Who knows. He couldn't keep relationships going just because he couldn't keep himself in check, and he had no discipline or motivation for so long.

If he could help her become a better version of herself, he would do it. Maybe, this way, he, too, would learn from her. Maybe his self-hatred will get knocked down a peg. He did need some change in his life, and p'haps, some fresh blood was exactly what he needed. 

"Oki-Doki. I'll take you as my student - But don't tell anyone else, that would be a drag. I don't take students, okay? You're an exception because you're pretty." he asked the girl, smirking leisurely. They soon reached her home.

"Do you want to come over for coffee or something? As thanks for agreeing to train me, and walking me home." what a tempting request! Of course Sen agreed, and he was welcomed inside a gorgeous, cozy apartment, furnished stylishly.

"Rather bold of you to trust a stranger - A man, no less - Into your home, don't you think?" he chuckled, looking around the living-room and admiring the place.

"I trust any person that 'Tsuki-san personally recommends. He is a trust-worthy, reliable man, so I trust his judgement." she shrugged leisurely.

"What a nice lady you are~!" he chuckled lazily. "Can I look around?" he received a nod of approval, and he did just that while Y/N went to make coffee.

He saw some pretty pics of Y/N during her graduation day, and some with her friends... Then, he saw a box, somewhere in the corner, and naturally, he got curious. He crouched and started rummaging - A bunch of gold medals and little trophies and diplomas... And the sky fell on his head.

All of them were in the name of 'Hatsumi Sen'.

With a little more digging around, he found pictures of mystery lady since she was a little girl, along with her parents - But most pictures were together with the young boy with long chestnut hair...

Fate truly works in the weirdest ways possible - To think after so many years, the universe will bring them together once again...

Was it the answer to his questions? The solution to his pathetic life of misery and failure? Was Y/N always meant to be in his life, and his constant downfall spiral was all because he walked away from Y/N so long ago?

Once Y/N returned, she placed the coffee tray on the table and sees Hatsumi cradling a picture frame. "Ah, I see you found my precious treasure stash." she smiled bittersweet. "That cutie was my childhood bestie. Spending time with him was the best time of my life." the more she talked, the more his eyes felt gleaming and stinging with emotion. "He was my hero back then - Always protected me from the mean kids in the playground. Hatsumi Sen-pai, my knight in shining armor!"

At once, Y/N found herself engulfed in a very tight, warm embrace, and she could feel the man trembling a little. "You don't have to worry about anyone hurting you anymore, Y/Nickname." no one used that nickname with you - Hatsumi came up with it, thus only Hatsumi was the only allowed to say it. "I will protect you - Just like I always was supposed to do. I will protect you."

"Welcome back - My Hero."

But there came a time when he would almost fail Y/N, again - All because he was trying to prepare for a surprise romantic dinner for his darling, at his home, and she was walking on foot. He had given her the address, the directions... Alas, she got lost, and a group of thugs picked on jer, ready to mug her

She was on the phone with him, telling him she was in trouble and where she got lost - All before Y/N got grabbed by the the neck of her dress and slammed into the wall of a shady alleyway; One of the thugs dug his hand into her pretty hair, tugging on it harshly and telling her to give him all her money and jewellery, or he'll rip them off and do bad things to her.

Thankfully, before any damage could be done to Y/N (except for quite the scare), in the blink of an eye, she felt her hair being released - Before she knew it, none of those guys were standing anymore. Fantastic - Such speed... Was Hatsumi even human? Was he truly a superhero, as she's always seen him?

"Are you alright?" Hatsumi seemed to have worry in his eyes as he approached the whimpering girl, pulling her into a hug. "Yeah, I... I... I just got scared when I saw the knives." she explained, before clearing her throat and looking away. "That was pretty pathetic. I get lost, I get in trouble, and I need saving. What the hell..." she sighed, tearing up. "I'm sorry, I didn't want you to have to go out of your way to rescue me. How stupid... I'm such a good for nothing failure... You shouldn't stay around me." her fright made her brain go all crazy with overthinking and self-hatred. "I'm really sorry that you have to deal with some pathetic failure like me. I really don't know why you accepted me. I wouldn't have accepted myself." 

Hatsumi's heart broke, seeing the girl he loves so much hang her head and speak so freely about how much she hates herself. He couldn't help but remember himself throughout his entire life. Still, he never admitted to anyone how pathetic he often thought he was. To others, his self-love and confidence were through the roof. Only he knew the truth. And now, this little missy too, whom he hugged tightly to his chest. "You're not a failure, sugar. People have their own strengths and weaknesses. What is important is to learn how to glorify our strengths, and work on bettering our weaknesses. You're already on the right path. You're already doing much more than I ever did my entire life." the girl couldn't help but frown and look up at him. His expression, despite smiling tenderly, was pained.

"Don't say that, Sen. I refuse to believe that someone as awesome as you thinks so lowly of yourself. I won't take it. I can't let you do that. You're a great person... My Hero... So, don't do that." he could see how frustrated she was by the way she was gritting her teeth so much, trying not to cry.

"Y/N... Let's do our best. Both of us. Okay? I'm not giving up on you... So don't give up on me either, okay?" his voice was so filled with emotions, so raw and gentle, so darling, that she couldn't help but hug him back. "Okay."

☁️Since then, Hatsumi never let go of you ever again.

☁️Yes, he couldn't stay long in one place, he was restless, but he would take you with him everywhere he went -

☁️Unless he had to go training, somewhere in the middle of the forests and mountains; There's no way he'd have you renounce your comfort and have you suffer the harsh conditions he had to go through to train to the extreme.

☁️He would take you on months-long vacations and more or less act like a Sugar Daddy without the Sugar involved - Unless you want to, of course. Hatsumi has been taken with you since you were kids.

☁️He loved to lay his head on your lap and just fall asleep while watching the clouds float by.

☁️He was determined to give you a life of luxury and comfort, because you were his literal support system since the two of you were little, and he's forever grateful to you.

☁️He has you meet the cute secretary of the Nogi Group, the business he's associated with, so that you two can hang out like girls; He knew you were in dire need of some friends, and the secretaries were the only girls he knew that would make for great company for you.

☁️One night when Hatsumi gets drunk during a chill time at home, he ends up spilling his guts to you about how much of a failure he is, and how he just cannot get his life together, no matter how hard he tries.

☁️He ends up telling you how he fucked up with Shion, cheating on her, leading her on and staying in on-and-off relationships with her; Tell you about the far too many losses he earned simply because he was too lazy to show up, he forgot or overslept - How much more pathetic could he get?

☁️He even ended up telling you about that time when Katahara came to him and scouted him as a potential Fang - Only for him to run away a week later 'cause he got bored.

☁️All his lingering thoughts of self-hatred, he spilt to you - Then he nestled in your arms and fell asleep like a little kitten who snored a little too loud.

☁️Of course, you didn't agree with his far too leisurely lifestyle, but there was a kind of reverie you felt, just spending time around your childhood bestie, just like you used to long ago.

☁️He was gallant with you, and loved to pick you up and run around; He loved making you laugh, making you smile, as if his own life depended on it.

☁️His own self-worth depended on your happiness.

☁️You would be there to cheer on him for every Kengan match, just as you used to as children, and each and every time, he would win, and you'd go kiss him congratulatory.

☁️He also dropped his Gold Pleasure Group membership, much to everyone's surprise.

☁️He was trying his hardest to take baby steps in the right direction.

☁️Hatsumi was determined to have a proper life with you, no matter how difficult it would be for him.

☁️In spite of how flickery he was, he remained the sweetest man you'd ever met.

☁️Always in charge of romantic dates that ended up super cheesy and filled with playfulness and laughter.

☁️At least once a month, he takes you out on vacations to some new country, knowing your dream is to travel the world, and it fits well with how restless he gets and how he can't stay in one place for too long.

☁️His love language is, at first, gifts, thinking that, until he gets a proper grip on himself, the least he can do is lavish you with all the best things known to mankind;

☁️Not to mention, you look gorgeous wearing all those pretty clothes and jewellery he gets you -

☁️Though the most beautiful accessory you own is your smile.

☁️In terms of intimacy, with how sweet and loving you are with him, it all comes natural, and he forgets all about how big of a fuck-up loser he truly is.

☁️He loves touching you in any way - Be it kisses, hugs, or more; Be it fixing your hair, straightening your clothes, opening doors for you, holding your bags or tying your shoelaces.

☁️Sen loves taking care of your hair - Makes sure to properly wash it, then gently blow-dries it and carefully brushes it - And you never have any nasty tangles thanks to it.

☁️He loves how, every night, it became a ritual to brush each other's hair and gently braid it so it wouldn't get in the way.

☁️Also is the type to let you do whatever you wanted with him - Play dress up with him, do his nails, do his hair, have a tea party with him; None of it mattered, as long as you were happy - Although he was a little more reticent with make up, he still would eventually say yes.

☁️He cannot resist your beautiful puppy eyes.

☁️Intimacy with him is a bliss focused entirely on you.

☁️He's had his time with selfish with the ladies when he was a proud patron of GPG - But at least he's learned a few very useful tricks.

☁️He easily goes crazy for you - Your beauty, your reactions at his touch, those sweet thrills of yours, all for him - You're simply flawless.

☁️You often hangout together with Wakatsuki, Kaede and Sakura over drinks - Everyone is shocked to see him so faithful to you, but no one knows you go way back and he would never betray you.

☁️Your social media is full with pretty pictures of you that he takes in every one of your trips - He loves seeing you so happy and enjoying yourself; Every once in a while he joins in the selfies also, with a lazy peace sign.

☁️When the Kengan Annihilation Tournament is announced, you're surprised to see him going alone to train, but you encourage him from afar, knowing full well he needs it.

☁️You two enjoy the luxury of the cruise all the way to Ganryu Island, and even there, you have fun, playing volleyball with Mokichi and Elena, swimming with Seki and Cos, drinking with Tsuki and Kaede.

☁️At night you also go clubbing together, drinking and dancing, losing yourselves in long, seducing kisses.

☁️You took the habit of tying his hair before every match, as a lucky charm.

☁️His match against Chiba was fascinating - How easy he defeated him, in less than 10 seconds - What a monster!

☁️He was happy that he didn't have to reveal any special move of his - He was lucky he could chill out with you for most of the day, watching the matches on TV to know what to prepare for and expect going further into the competition.

☁️His wish of fighting Hanafusa instead of Bando went to shit once he saw that hulking psycho walk in on the second round - What a drag, truly.

☁️That sleazy jerk not only ripped his shirt off, but he took his hair out of his hair-tie ; How was he supposed to fight without Y/N's lucky charm? He was pissed.

☁️During the coup d'etat, you and him were up on the roof, chilling and sleeping; The weather was lovely, they had an umbrella and chair-lounges, and even cocktails. What more could you want?

☁️It was Wakatsuki who told you about the coup, and he was flabbergast to find out about your whereabouts. Ignorance truly was bliss.

☁️Naturally, he was afraid, but highly ambitious about his fight against the Fifth Fang of Metsudo.

☁️As per the ritual, you tied his hair, and kissed him sweetly for good luck -

☁️Alas, no amount of luck and hard work could help him win.

☁️You were horrified to see Kano using those techniques to K.O. your beloved; It was a novelty, seeing him laying there on the ground, limp and bloody.

☁️You ran to him and held him in his arms until the workers came and put him on a stretch to get him to the hospital wing.

☁️Thankfully, he woke up on the way and had them let him down. He was fine. His body was damaged, but nothing like his pride and self-esteem.

☁️A beautiful woman whom you recognised as the CEO of Kiryuu Setsuna rushed to Hatsumi's side, along with the old CEO of Tokita Ohma.

☁️Shion Soryuin looked horrified, worried for his well being.

"SEN! STAY WITH US, HATSUMI! DR. HANAFUSA'S ON HIS WAY!" Miss Shion cried out in shock, terrified for his life.

"Shit, I lost in front of an angel. How pathetic." was the first thing he managed to utter, groggy voice and self-hatred dripping from his voice.

"Well, this angel can't even open a water bottle - So, Senpai - Let's be pathetic together, yeah?" that crystalline, easy-going giggle of her only made him feel worse. It was him who taught her how to throw away all worries in the world - Why couldn't he truly do the same, but only mask it with that stupid, dumb facade of his? "I just wanna smoke." without another word, Y/N looked at Shion, who handed him a lit cigarette, though dared not speak. "This ain't gonna kill me. I just need a little rest, that's all." Y/N took out a handkerchief, and holding his face carefully, started wiping away at the blood caking his face. Shion, too, knelt by his side and tried to care for him. "Gah, how humiliating. Good grief." he puffed from his cigarette, his heart shattered, as well as all of his hopes. He then felt his messy hair being ruffled, and he looked down at that tender smile - Yet he couldn't reciprocate.

Y/N was heartbroken to see him so mentally and emotionally defeated - But at least he was alive, right? It was finally time for her to cheer him up, instead of the other way around.

"Stop being so upset over what happened. You're alive and that's all that matters. You know what Gaolang said after his fight? There's only going upwards from here. Isn't that right, Hatsumi Sen-pai?" he tsk'ed, looking away. How could she give him advice from other men?! How annoying. "I know your fighter pride is wounded, but I'd rather have my senpai alive, and defeated, than with his skull cracked open. I love you too much to lose you - Again."  she threw her arms around the man's throbbing body, as he stiffened hearing her words.

Her words held truth, yes... But at least, at the moment, he was going to grovel and wallow in self-hatred at how disgustingly pitiful he is. "Hey, Sen." she pulled apart slightly, making him look into her eyes. They were such a beautiful shade - And they held life. Vitality. Energy. Damn, what a lucky man he is. "We did our best. Both of us. Okay? Though I'm weak, I'm not giving up on myself, nor on you... So... Don't give up on me or yourself, okay? In fact - Let's be pathetic together!" Hatsumi's exhausted eyes shot wide open, and his mouth agape - The cigarette fell from his mouth, making Shion reach out to take it so it wouldn't burn his fighting clothes. She had told him the very same words that he himself spoke to her once he saved her from that gang of thugs in the alley, when he agreed to train her. With a chuckle, he reached out his hand to pat her head, mimicking her. "Yeah. Let's." he whispered, pulling her into a tight embrace. "I love you, Y/N."

☁️Shion was the most shocked to see Hatsumi being so genuine with someone, for once.

☁️She still hated him for cheating on her, for giving her so many hopes, only to be let down multiple times - But for some reason, she couldn't hold a grudge against him.

☁️In spite of the many awful things he did to her, she still held the times spent together, the memories, very dear to her.

☁️And seeing how genuine he was with you, well... Shion smiled, content.

☁️Hatsumi Sen wasn't the same unreliable prick he used to be.

☁️Hatsumi Sen was irredeemably in love with you, and he would never hurt you.

☁️She was happy for him for finding someone like you, and for finding his happiness, for once.

☁️Even so, after the Tournament ended, Sen took Mikazuchi Rei to some mountains in China to train together with the help of the Wu clan.

☁️You were there together for almost 3 years, but instead of bothering with their training, you became a family member of the Wu clan, who treated you so nicely, integrating you in their culture and customs - All this grace to Hatsumi's grandpa being a very good friend of Kure Erio.

☁️You only returned because Sen was called to help exterminate some Worms on Mount Godslayer, where the Kengan vs Purgatory Tournament was being held.

☁️Since then, the two of you would continue traveling the world, with him either taking the time to seriously train, or just having fun with you.

☁️And on the off-chance you were home, you'd go watch some Kengan matches.

☁️Hatsumi was very hung on keeping you as safe as humanly possible - He knew how terrifying the Worms were, and he didn't want you to be aware of all the problems of the underground.

☁️Ignorance was bliss.

☁️He was going to keep you ignorant, and happy, for as long as he's capable.

☁️He just wanted to live a long, happy, chill life, with you by his side.

☁️To wake up to your beautiful face on the pillow next to him, to wake you up with a kiss and say 'Good morning, sunshine'

☁️And to fall asleep, with you by his side, holding you in his arms and whispering 'Sweet dreams, my princess'

☁️Funny enough, he's also the first of the OG Kengan fighters to get married.

☁️No one believed it - No one thought that fleeting man could actually settle, be tied to a single human being.

☁️But when they saw him, all dressed up and dancing at your wedding, never once taking his gaze away from you, they just knew, Hatsumi Sen was 100% wrapped around your finger.

---

Being in a relationship with Wakatsuki Takeshi...Being in a relationship with Yoroizuka Saw Paing...Being in a relationship with Kure Raian...Being in a relationship with Tokuno’o Tokumichi...Being in a relationship with Kano Agito...Being in a relationship with Gaolang Wongsawat...Being in a relationship with Gaoh Ryuki...Being in a relationship with Narushima Koga...Being in a relationship with Hatsumi Sen

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Chapter 15 - Kitsune no Yomeiri

🎀Asmo🌺: Guyssss, are you ready for this weekend?! 🦊Kitsune🔥: What is this weekend? 🍰Beelzeburger🍔: New Year's. 📚 Satan🐈: I think Asmo is more excited about the 'Wedding Day' event at the Demon Lord's Castle's Ballroom. 🎀Asmo🌺: E! X! A! C! T! L! Y! 🦊Kitsune🔥: I did not know demons had the custom of marriage. 📚Satan🐈: We don't, but everyone takes it as an excuse to party and dress up. 🍰Beelzeburger🍔: And feast. 🍰Beelzeburger🍔: <Sticker> 📚Satan🐈: You think we can just wear a tuxedo? 🎀Asmo🌺: A tuxedo?! How DULL! Weddings are all about wearing DRESSES! Everyone knows that!!  🎀Asmo🌺: <Sticker>🎀Asmo🌺: And besides, aren't you excited to see Kitsune as pretty pretty bride as well~?  🎀Asmo🌺: <Sticker> 🦊Kitsune🔥: Me? A bride? What are you talking about? 📚 Satan🐈: I never said I wasn't. 💰MaMoney😎: Kitsune, a bride? You gon' be okay? 🦊Kitsune🔥: I do not understand - Are you people planning a faux wedding for me, or why are you focusing so much on me? 🕹️Leviachan👾: Because you're pretty lolol  🕹️Leviachan👾: And because Asmo is obsessed with parties and dolling up 🕹️Leviachan👾: Now can we change the conversation to something for exciting? 🕹️Leviachan👾: Like Ruri-chan's special New Year concert! 💰MaMoney😎: No one cares about that, Levi. 🕹️Leviachan👾: <Sticker>  🍰Beelzeburger🍔: If you ask me, the best event is Pajama Day.  🍰Beelzeburger🍔: I don't even have to put on clothes when I get out of bed that morning. 💰MaMoney😎: Beach Day is a good one 💰MaMoney😎: I wanna lounge all day under the sun and go surf 🎀Asmo🌺: I bet you're planning on heading straight to the beach after school, aren't you, Mammon? 🎀Asmo🌺: Personally, I can't wait to see Kitsune in a swimsuit~! 🦊Kitsune🔥: What is a 'swimsuit' ? 📚 Satan🐈: An outfit designated for swimming. 🦊Kitsune🔥: So people stopped bathing nude? 🎀Asmo🌺: Oh, I would L O V E to swim naked with you, Kitsune~! 🕹️Leviachan👾: Ew, no 🕹️Leviachan👾: But Mammon sleeps naked 🕹️Leviachan👾: Maybe he also swims naked 💰MaMoney😎: Nuh-huh, no way, nope! 🎀Asmo🌺: I don't want to see Mammon naked ���Asmo🌺: But I wouldn't mind seeing Beel and Satan naked~! 📚 Satan🐈: Flattered, but no. 📚 Satan🐈: Anyway, if you're thinking of going to the Siren Beach, you'd better be careful. 📚 Satan🐈: Remember what happened last year? 📚 Satan🐈: Monster Fair was held during Spirit Week, and Levi went and released a giant sea serpent into the ocean. 🎀Asmo🌺: That was horrifying!  🎀Asmo🌺: <Sticker> 🍰Beelzeburger🍔: <Sticker> 💰MaMoney😎: <Sticker> 🦊Kitsune🔥: Uhm... What's Monster Fair? 🎀Asmo🌺: It's sort of like a pet show in a way. People bring a monster which they show off, and the best one wins. 🎀Asmo🌺: Do you have a pet, Kitsune? 🦊Kitsune🔥: I take care of the animals of the shrine. Naturally, foxes have an affinity for me. We have thus dedicated our shrine for the Fox Goddess, Inari Okami. 🍰Beelzeburger🍔: Foxes are cute. I love dogs. 🎀Asmo🌺: Well, I think any pet would be cuter than the sea serpent of Levi's. 🕹️Leviachan👾: It wasn't a sea serpent. It was Lotan, the 7-headed sea monster.

📚 Satan🐈left the chat 🦊Kitsune🔥 left the chat 🎀Asmo🌺left the chat

🕹️Leviachan👾: Yeah, of course, that's right! Leave! Leave, you damn normies! 🕹️Leviachan👾: No one wants to spend time with a dirty filthy otaku like me! 💰MaMoney😎: Yep.

💰MaMoney😎left the chat

🍰Beelzeburger🍔: I'm hungry.

🍰Beelzeburger🍔left the chat

🕹️Leviachan👾: <Sticker> 🕹️Leviachan👾: Oh, come on! You could have pretended at least! 🕹️Leviachan👾: <Sticker> 🕹️Leviachan👾: <Sticker> 🕹️Leviachan👾: <Sticker> 🕹️Leviachan👾: Sigh... 🕹️Leviachan👾: <Sticker>

🕹️Leviachan👾left the chat

The second Kitsune left the chat, Asmodeus burst through her door and jumped on her bed. He was wearing a most giddy grin on his face and batting his long lashes at her and dangling his legs like a school girl in love.

"Kitsune! You simply MUST come with me shopping for the ball!" he was chirping so happily.

"Uhm... I do not feel comfortable with the idea of a wedding." she cleared her throat, getting more comfortable on the bed. "For me, it is a very important tradition... And... My heart cannot... Handle, going through a fakery of a wedding ceremony."

"Oh, no, I understand that - But, really, it's nothing like you're thinking!" he cuddled next to her, showing her various pictures of wedding dresses - None of them looking anywhere close to what she was used to. "No traditions, no ceremony, no nothing!" he reassured her. "It's just a party with pretty dresses, New Year Fireworks - And a huge cake!" he showed her a video of the cake-cutting from the previous year. "Diavolo had Lucifer cut the cake last year - But, if you ask me, this year he's going to cut the cake together with you!"

"Together, you say? Is it a custom?" finally, the fox lady showed interest in the festivity.

"Oh, yes, it's a popular human custom for the bride and groom to cut the cake. It's not tradition or anything, but it's a cute thing couples do!" he giggled cutely. "You and Lord Diavolo are so cute together! You're going to be the star of the show!"

"O-Oh, uhmm... Okay... I guess it looks endearing." she scratched the back of her head. 

"Right?!" he exclaimed gleefully, before shooting up to his feet and dragging Kitsune with him. "Still have that pretty shiny card with you?"

Kitsune looked at him with some confusion at first, then it clicked. "Oh, Diavolo's card? No, I do not, I have returned it to him that day." she smiled simply. "I can ask him, if you want." she spoke. "I had offered to work for the money, but Dia reassured me that little thing would take care of whatever I need."

Asmodeus' eyes sparkled with stars and joy. "Let's go~!"

Kitsune never knew Asmodeus was eager to do any kind of physical effort that didn't relate to his sin or dancing. He ran to the Castle and right into Lord Diavolo's study, knocking vigorously. The Prince was expecting anyone but the 5th Brother - Ah, but Kitsune was with him also; She looked exhausted - Had she been dragged all the way here? How cute!

"Kitsune, Asmodeus, to what do I owe the pleasure?" he could barely stifle his laugh. "Is it about the event on Friday?" New Year's on Friday, and Kitsune's birthday was on Sunday. January 3rd. It was the last opportunity for Kitsune to live... And keep on living... With him, forever and always.

"Lord Diavolo - You see, I'm taking Kitsune shopping - And she is in a little need of... Financing!" ah, yes, of course, he completely forgot all about that.

He retrieved a leather wallet from inside his blazer, and took out that Sugar Daddy card of his. "There you go, Kitsune - Have fun!" he placed the card in her hand. "You too, Asmodeus. Go crazy."

Asmo was quite literally twinkling and radiating with joy. "Oh, Lord Diavolo, you're so good with me!" the Prince started laughing as the Lust Demon threw his arms around him and kissed his cheek as a thank you. "I'll make Kitsune the prettiest bride every for you!" and they vanished shopping. None saw the wicked smirk on the Prince's face, or the lustful lick of his lips, imagining his gorgeous future wife, oh so pretty, only for him; And even better, their intimate night together~.

The boutique was a whole realm of elegance which Kitsune hadn't even imagined could exist, with its interior adorned in a sophisticated mix of gothic opulence and ethereal charm. Velvet drapes of deep crimson framed the windows, and chandeliers of delicate glass cast a soft, inviting glow over the space. The scent of exotic perfumes mingled with the faint aroma of fresh flowers, creating an atmosphere that felt both luxurious and welcoming. It was far more different than what other shops she'd seen around Devildom - Or that UK shopping mall from the human world. This shop had only very refined and outstanding gowns of all kinds, styles, textiles and colours.

Asmodeus, with his usual flair for fashion, was practically glowing with excitement as he started scouring the merchandise from one end to the other. The succubus shop-keeper came by, but seeing Asmo there, she knew she needn't bother offer her help; The boutique was practically a second or third home for him. He will know what to do.

Kitsune, clutching Diavolo's premium card, followed the Lust Demon as he led her towards a display of stunning wedding dresses. The gowns ranged from traditional to avant-garde, each piece a masterpiece of craftsmanship - Yet he only showed her the most elegant ones. There was no way Kitsune would want a dress that showed too much skin, or was too eccentric.

"Let me explain it real quick - A classic ball gown is perfect if you want a fairytale vibe. A dress with a voluminous skirt and a fitted bodice - Like a pretty cloud cupcake." he picked out a stunning gown with a full, cascading skirt and a bodice adorned with delicate embroidery. "Look at this - The layers of tulle and silk create a dreamy effect, and the bodice is beautifully embellished. The skirt is voluminous and makes you look like a princess, - Which you are! It's perfect for a wedding party between the King and Queen of Hell!"

"Is this dress not too... Big?" Kitsune went all around it, inspecting it from every angle. "Is it appropriate?"

"But of course!" Asmo quipped happily. "And you will look absolutely stunning! It doesn't have a collar; It's shoulderless so it highlights your beautiful cleavage so well~!" he got behind her, slowly trailing the tips of his fingers across her collar bone. "Men love kissing this area a lot, you see. It is very sexy."

"O-Oh, w-well... Okay... If you think it is not vulgar, I suppose it is fine." Kitsune blushed softly. "It is a beautiful dress as I have never seen before - And I love the small sparkling diamonds softly embroidered into the outer layer."

"Perfect!" Asmo squealed, throwing the dress on the succubus' head. She was the perfect hanger. "Now, all we need are shoes and accessories! Oh, you will look GORGEOUS with flowers in your hair! Your hair is such a wonderful shade of scarlet!"

"I have not worn flowers in my hair before. I hope you will have patience with me, Asmo." she spoke tenderly, smiling so much like a young bride-to-be.

"Of course! Oh, I am so excited! I simply cannot wait to doll you up!" after he buzzed around like a working bee through the shop, he gathered all the accessories needed, and once again, threw them in the hands of the succubus. She was done with life. "Now - Shoes! I found this pair of designer shoes in the display - Look at the craftsmanship on the heels! One of a kind, truly! Unique and beautiful, just like you!"

"They are gorgeous, yes, but... The heels are so long... I do not think I will be capable of walking on them! Even more so with such a long dress... What if I trip?" her worries were valid, especially coming from someone who only ever wore heels twice... Almost half the size.

"Don't worry, I'll help you get used to walking!" he threw the shoe box at the succubus - And with a sneaky move, Asmo paid for his own order with Diavolo's card, just as the Prince offered; Asmo's and Solomon's matching outfits were a most gracious gift! "By the way, I've got a little gift for you and Lord Diavolo~." with a terrifyingly tricksy snigger, the demon grabbed Kitsune once again and got her to his own room.

Asmodeus, as much as he loved spoiling himself, made sure his friend was the one first pampered; He ran her a precious hot bath with milk, honey, ginseng essence and rose petals to soak in and relax; She was always so tense and stressed out - It was time to relax!  Her hair was going to be so smooth and shiny, he was eager to comb flowers through it. Her skin was going to be so delicate, and naturally scented like flowers - Oh, that Diavolo, so lucky!

He painted her long nails a princess sparkly pink, then took the longest time doing her hair and make up. Soft curls cascaded down in waves of white flowers, all the way down to her waist - Her hair had never been so well taken care of, it was a wonder it could look so stylish, she thought to herself, almost not recognising who she was seeing in the mirror. She looked so different than what she usually looks like... So plain and simple... And yet, Diavolo still fell in love with her. What a wholesome man.

Her make up reminded her of that of young maikos doing their first show; Her skin naturally pale, and her make up a soft sparkling pink, just like her nails and lip gloss. She was so used to doing her eyeshadow and lipstick rouge and plain... But she still loved her style very much. Still, this fox-eye eyeliner and mascara did wonders to highlight her green eyes so nicely. She had to learn how to do it properly also.

Once fully dolled up, Asmo quickly took care of himself also, and got up, holding Kitsune's hand. One step at a time, he helped her find her balance and learn how to walk like a princess, even in spite of her trembling legs. Thankfully, she would always be accompanied by someone - A beautiful lady like her couldn't possibly stay alone, could she? Besides, Asmo himself was certain Lord Diavolo would be unable to keep his hands away from her.

"Well, y'know, Solomon is really my date - But someone has to walk you down the great stairs to the ballroom, and it HAS to be Solomon, right? You're both humans - Well, sort of - So it only fits!" and rightfully so.

Asmodeus helped Kitsune walk all the way to the great hall of the House of Lamentation where all the Sins gathered, looking their best; All of them, save Asmo, wore elegant tuxedos of different styles and colours. His dress was themed pink for himself, and blue to match with Solomon, of course. The Lust Demon took Kitsune away from the other gawking at her beauty, and dragged her inside their limousine - And they were taken as guests of honour to the Wedding Day/New Year's joint party ball at the Demon Lord's Castle.

The ballroom was even more grand than last time; Poor Barbatos must have been overworked to hell and back. The inhabitants of the Purgatory Hall met up with those of the House of Lamentation, and just as promised, Solomon helped her walk down the stairs. Kitsune was the talk of gossip, standing out like a celestial cupcake amidst so many dark-outfits; None looked to be even close to the vibe she held - Had Asmodeus overdressed her? Hopefully not, because she felt awkward with so many eyes on her.

"Kitsune, I see Asmo did a great job preparing you on such a short notice. You both look stunning!" Solomon smiled at the two. "Of course! Who else could do this but cute little me?" Asmo chuckled as he went on ahead, to search for his brothers. "Well, shall we? The others are waiting for you." he extended his arm for her to hold on, just like a chivalrous knight and a princess. "I do not think I am mentally prepared for this even." she admitted, trying her best not to bite her lip and ruin the lipstick. "No need to be shy - The brothers are going to take care of you. But you must promise to save me the first dance, alright?" he chuckled playfully, easing her worries. "As the sole representatives of our world, I am inclined to agree." she smiled up at him as he helped her descend down the stairs.

Everyone went silent as Diavolo made a heartfelt speech, and everyone cheered as they were let to do whatever they wanted, again, and the orchestra began playing a new song. Once he was free to do as he wished, he looked around, desperate to spot his beloved fox lady - Ah, and there she was, stunning everyone with her magnificent beauty! Poor Diavolo, who wanted nothing more than to kick everyone out of his way... But his royal duties prevented him; Alas, so many people were gathered around him, all wanting to have small talk and champagne conversations - How tedious! What would it cost them to just leave him alone to spend precious time with his beloved?

"Thank you, Solomon. Your presence has greatly soothed my worries." the melody was slow, but their dance was ever slower; The wizard kept a firm yet gentle grip on the lady, easing her into the art of western dances. She had only ever danced once with Diavolo, and not in such high heels and incapacitating dress. This first dance was a great training for her. "You managed to blend in so well in this place, Kitsune. You're overshadowing everyone here." the silver haired man let out a soft chuckle. "Don't exaggerate." she shook her head playfully. "Well, at least for them, I'm not exaggerating. They're waiting for their turn to dance with you." he pointed towards the demon sins waiting for their turn to spend time with their favourite human. As soon as that song ended, they did a little courtesy to each other. "Thank you for your dance. "Thank  you for your dance as well, Solomon It is always lovely talking to you." she courtesied back, making her way to the brothers.

"Kitsune you look stunning." Satan began to speak, only to have Asmo throw his arms around the girl, taking out his D.D.D. to take a few selfies, tagging her in them quickly. "We are perfect! Today's posts are going to simply sky-rocket!" Asmo was hyped up to the core. "Hey, jerk, get the hell away from her!" Mammon called out, ripping her away from Asmo's arms. "Awww, you're no fun, Mammon. Honestly, if you want to dance with Kitsune, just say so!" Asmo rolled his eyes. "Kitsune looks like one of those UR+ secret waifu cards from Ruri-chan's idol rhythm game special limited-edition Wedding event!" Levi chimed in, blushing slightly. "The cake looks amazing too... Want to get a slice, Kitsune?" Beel smiled softly. "No, Beel, the cake is for later, after the fireworks. Don't ask, Diavolo's orders." Lucifer sighed, shaking his head at the Prince's antics. "Anyhow, I have to agree, you do brighten up this place." for once, the Prideful demon didn't look murderous towards her.

"Thank you for all your compliments - I am undeserving." she smiled bashfully; It truly was more attention on her than she'd have expected.

Throughout the evening, Diavolo repeatedly tried to dance or even just talk with Kitsune, but the brothers kept whisking her away, which was a bit frustrating. Of course, Kitsune couldn't really refuse them - She couldn't even offer an apologetic glance before being swept off again. She was completely shackled to them for many exhausting hours of dancing.

By the time the last dance ended, her feet were aching awfully, so she decided to rest on the grand sofa, sipping some prosecco. It was then that her favorite person sat down beside her, finally able to escape the clutches of duty and fan conversations..

"Hello, stranger. You seem to be quite popular tonight" Diavolo chuckled, his voice warm. "You look gorgeous, Kitsune. Absolutely stunning." he was truly awestruck - She was even more beautiful than any princess to ever exist.

"Only on nights like this." she replied with a soft laugh, glancing down briefly. "I am glad we can finally spend some time together after all the chaos." she gazed at him, sharing a tender look. 

"Yes, about time, I agree-" Diavolo began, his expression turning even more joyful as he tried to lean in and steal a kiss from his darling - But just as he was about to hold her chin and kiss her, Mammon appeared with a tray of cookies and wedged himself between them.

"I brought cookies!" Mammon grinned, placing the tray on his lap and throwing an arm around Kitsune's shoulder. "Here, open up. Let me feed you." shoving a cookie in her mouth.

"Uh... Thank you, Mammon. They are really good." she replied politely, managing a smile.

"Right? Now let's get some more champagne and take a few photos. Asmo wants a photoshoot, and you and I are the stars." Mammon announced, shoving the tray onto Diavolo's lap before dragging her toward a room that looked like a golden throne room, where Asmo was orchestrating the photoshoot with his usual flamboyance.

It was fun, sort of, but Kitsune truly wished to spend more time with her Little Prince - She had no picture, no memory with him. She silently thanked every deity when Barbatos appeared, informing them that it was time to gather on the balcony to watch the fireworks. Only the brothers, Diavolo, and the exchange students were allowed on this exclusive balcony, as the view from there was the best.

As expected, Asmo dragged her along, and once everyone was gathered, she tried to subtly search for the Prince, but to no avail. "Don't think I haven't noticed, darling. That’s why I saved you the best spot." Asmo whispered with a wink, gently pushing her into someone's arms — Prince Diavolo's arms.

"Think we can finally get some time to ourselves?" Kitsune chuckled softly, relaxing into his embrace. She was finally where she was supposed to be - In his arms.

"I'm going to skin alive the next person who tries to take you away from me. I didn't even get to see that beautiful smile of yours all night." Dia grumbled, his voice tender as he kissed her temple.

"I should say the same... Being here with you, watching the fireworks like this... It makes everything worth it." she murmured, leaning into his embrace as they watched the dazzling display of colorful lights. It was truly magical.

"Happy New Year's, Kitsune." it was a crucial night for both their fates; Kitsune's life was hanging on by a thread, indicated by only two more nights alive before her fate takes over.

"Happy New Year's, Dia." she leaned back on his chest, admiring the splendid display of magical colours and shapes embellishing the endless dark sky of the realm.

Once the show was over, everyone new it was time for the cake - But who will be the bridge and groom to have the privilege of cutting the Wedding Cake, they wondered? Beelzebub was the happiest - Once he heard Barbatos announcing the cake-cutting soon, he was the first to report. As everyone expected, Diavolo had a plan.

He guided the red head in front of everyone - Yes, of course, if this was a real thing, he would have done so privately; Kitsune was a person who greatly valued her intimacy - Alas, this was the closest thing a demon could get to marrying in the traditional sense - A gift, a promise, and an audience to witness this union of sorts. No one needed to know the details - All that mattered was ensuring a sense of security of Kitsune, so that she wouldn't be pressured and guilt-ridden for having intercourse outside of marriage.

Everyone gasped as the Prince went on one knee, showcasing a velvet box with a most gorgeous soft pink gem. Sure, Kitsune didn't understand what the symbolism of the ring meant - Or why Diavolo was on his knee in front of her, pushing a ring her way and grinning so beautifully - But she soon understood once he started speaking.

"Demons cannot marry in the way humans do - We don't have the same customs or traditions - But from the moment I met you, I knew I would never fall in love with anyone else but you." Diavolo began his heartfelt speech, every word tugging right at her frail heartstrings. "It isn't the true wedding that you deserve - The tradition that you hold so dear - But it’s the closest I can come to honoring your wishes and showing you how deeply I want you by my side." he could see, in spite of how shocked she was, her beautiful eyes were gleaming with emotion. "So, my dear, will you allow me the honor of standing by your side, not just as a prince, but as your partner, your protector, and the one who cherishes you above all?" her hands were covering her face and she was barely able to peak from between her fingers.

"Kitsune, will you marry me?"

Everyone cheered loudly as the girl finally found herself uttering the softest 'yes'. Asmodeus and Levi were hugging each other and crying in glee while taking pictures and videos of the heart-warming event. Finally, Kitsune looked happy - The happiest she had ever been in so many centuries. Lucifer, albeit still suspicious, placed his hand on Mammon's shoulder, noticing him shaking a little - He was happy to see Kitsune so euphoric, of course, but oh how he'd have loved to be in Diavolo's place. Out of everyone though, Beel must have been the most joyful - Wonderful feast, a ton of food, and then, Celestial Cake!

"Time to kiss the bride, Lord Diavolo! You know the tradition, right? Make it extra romantic — I'm filming everything!" Asmo squealed at the Prince, who held her hand so gingerly and slipped the beautiful ring on her finger - It fit perfectly, and suited her delicate hand so well - And then he swept her off her feet holding her bridal style.

"I love you, Kitsune." he said before kissing her deeply.

Finally, Diavolo and Kitsune could spend some time together at their own wedding, even if it was surrounded by people and camera flashes. At the end, they cut the cake together and served their friends, before getting a taste of the magnificent cake also - Luke and Barbatos made sure it was extra delicious, with ingredients straight from the Celestial Realm!

And then, after such a long party, it was time to retreat towards their bedroom, the cozy and comfortable haven of the Prince. He carried her all the way to his chambers, then knelt to help her take her shoes off - Gorgeous, of course, but she must be exhausted. Without those high heels on, she looked so cute and petite next to him; So endearing and darling. 

The Prince placed his hands on her face dearly, making her look at him. "Kitsune... Do you trust me?" Diavolo's deeply glowing Amber eyes, like molten gold, peered into Kitsune's green eyes, so soft and timid, like a spring forest.

"More than anyone." she uttered in a whispery tone, her hands gingerly placed over his chest.

"I am honoured." his smile was tender and loving. He cradled her face in his large hands, pulling her into a kiss - slow and hypnotising at first, yet only progressing in passion and lust for each other.

With dexterity, he reached out to the back zipper of her splendid dress, revealing her gorgeous body in all her splendor, adorned with white lace lingerie, no doubt a personal touch from Asmodeus. He'd have to thank him some day for taking such good care of her.

His mind was warped between his guilt, seeing her many scars painting her body like a canvas, but her beauty was overwhelming his senses - He was the embodiment of sin, and even he wasn't exempt from falling prey to temptation.

With one swift move, his blazer was on the ground, and his shirt was fully unbuttoned - His skin naked against his own was driving him into overdrive, feeling suffocated with the very flames of Hell. He couldn't resist her charm, not one bit. He was at her feet, a beggar, a slave, worshipping at the shrine of his Goddess.

Carefully, he placed her on the bed, and indulged in sins so horrible that she had never even imagined before; a lust mixed with such intense love and fire never felt before, a desire she didn't know even existed.

Her purity was never lost, even with the absence of bashfulness and the descent into bliss; His touch set her body aflame, his kisses made her lose her mind... His body made her feel things so foreign, yet so addictive... She couldn't get enough of him, so insatiable, so greedy she was for her beloved.

"You are mine, Kitsune." he held her tightly from behind, one hand around her jaw, pulling her back to look at him - To witness that glazed over expression lost in pleasure and need - The other was the instrument of pleasure that was sending her over the edge.

"And I am yours." his movements were no more rhythmical, but erratic and uncontrolled; Even the Demon Lord lost his senses, when drowning in her delicious heat. "Forever... My beloved Queen."

Her sweet thrills as she came undone around him drove him mad; With his chest glued flush against her back, Kitsune, amidst the overwhelming delight possessing her entire being, felt a searing sensation, familiar... Her whole back bore the powerfully glowing mark of the Demon Lord himself, a most intricate tattoo forever to adorn her skin, in all the shades ranging from the blackest black, to the shade of blood. Unlike the other pacts, this one would never fade, same as their bond, forever indestructible.

Kitsune was the sole pact that Diavolo has ever and will ever forge. He already knew, Kitsune was the only woman he loves during his very long life. Kitsune, the love of his life... Kitsune, the future Queen of Devildom.

"There's, like, N O way Mammon lost against Kitsune, of all people, at GAMBLING! ROFLMAOOOOOO XDDDD " the demons around the living room in the House of Lamentation all ignored Levi's antics and continued to laugh at Mammon's stupefying misfortune. The Gambling King lost against someone who didn't even know what card games were.

"That was hilarious! Way to go, Kitsune, you were so cool!" Asmo chirped in his usual pitched voice, clapping enthusiastically.

"Props to you, Mammon - It takes real skill to lose against a beginner." Even Satan was laughing.

"N'aww, c'mon guys, it ain't funny!" But poor Monnie's whines only made the group laugh harder.

"Maybe Monnie's luck transferred my way. Mayhaps I will finally find a means to earn money and buy... Ergh.. What did you call them? Luxury... Brands?" now even Kitsune was teasing the poor man.

"Stop it! Honestly - It happens, m'kay?! Happens! Tough luck, that's it, won't happen again!" the Greed Avatar huffed, blushing and looking away from them - Though even he started chuckling a little. "Well - That was a good match, Kitsune. Keep it up, I guess."

"Woaw, Mammon's actually being a good sport!" The brothers continued having a merry jolly time, this time, not as malicious as the time Kitsune first arrived; They almost seemed like actual siblings, for once, playfully bullying each other and laughing about it-

That it, until Killjoy Lucifer stepped inside the large living-room, calling out to Diavolo. He was most confused when he didn't see the Demon Prince anywhere.

"Where is Lord Diavolo?" Lucifer asked, genuinely puzzled by his mistake.

"At his castle, buried under paperwork." Kitsune informed the Pride Avatar. "Told me to send his regards were I to see you - So, uh - Hi." Kitsune spoke casually, not bothering to raise her gaze to meet his; instead, she focused on her game.

"But I could sense his presence - Did I just miss him?" He asked, troubled.

"He was never here, Lucifer. Now go away, you're ruining our fun." Satan hissed at his elder brother.

"Well maybe Lucifer wants to join us!" Asmo chimed in with a grin.

"I don't have time to waste on stupid games." Lucifer frowned, ready to leave - Only to turn away abruptly. "YOU!" he pointed dramatically at Kitsune.

"... Me... What?" Kitsune finally looked st the brunet Demon.

"You are the one I sensed, not Diavolo!" everyone in the living-room was wode-eyed at the bold affirmation; Asmo was the first to scurry next to the girl, and sniffed her perfume, getting unnervingly close to her neck.

"Goodness, Lucifer, you're right! Kitsune has Lord Diavolo's scent!" everyone was deathly silent - While Kitsune was confused, Asmo hugged her tightly, cheering for her. "You go, girl! I'm so proud of you! My, Kitsune, why didn't you tell me?!"

"Tell you ... What, exactly?" The girl was even more confused by all the commotion.

"That you are a traitorous whore who's trying to bring ruination to Lord Diavolo's rule!" at once, Lucifer had transformed into his Demon formed, snatching Kitsune from Asmodeus' embrace, and ripping the back of her shirt indecently, revealing the pact, engraved into the skin of her whole back.

"Lucifer, what the hell?! You can't do that!" Satan and Beel were the first to get in between him and the fox lady.

"The hell's with ya?!" Mammon snapped, placing his jacket over Kitsune's shoulders.

"That miserable wench tricked Diavolo into sleeping together and forging a pact!" Beel and Levi were desperately trying to hold Lucifer back from attacking Kitsune - Again.

"That's not true, Lucifer! Lord Diavolo and Kitsune love each other!" Asmo defended his friend, in the name of love.

"What would you know of love, anyway?" Lucifer's harsh comment hurt all his brothers; The Avatar of Lust, especially, had tears in his eyes.

"Yo, Lucifer, stop it! Kitsune's done nothing wrong, damn it - And neither has Asmo!" Mammon went to face his stubborn elder brother.

"Think about it - Lord Diavolo is, like, ancient, even by our standards! There's no way he would ever be tricked into forging a path, right? He's never done that before! It only means Kitsune is special for him - Like she is for us!" hardly did any of them expect Levi to stand up for someone.

"FOOLS, ALL OF YOU!" Lucifer's power was too strong for all brothers, and with a blast of energy, they were all slammed away. "I will kill you, filth!"

Lucifer lunged at Kitsune, ready to tear her apart; But was met with incredible resistance - A powerful black-red glow blinded them as Lord Diavolo, in his demon form, stood like a shield in front of his beloved, staring down at Lucifer with a stone-cold expression. No one had ever imagined Diavolo himself would be capable of feeling any negative emotion towards his lap-dog Lucifer.

"Now, Now, Lucifer, I hasn't expected you to go against my orders - Twice now - And attack Kitsune." though he was smiling, it was empty, almost sardonic, and his light-hearted words held venom.

"But -- Lord Diavolo -- How...?!" he looked flabbergast at the Prince, completely speechless.

"How, what? Are you so shocked that I would make a pact with the future Queen of Devildom?" silence engulfed the chamber. "Demons don't marry - But humans do. For her sake, as well as mine, I settled for the next best union between the two of us; A ring and a ln eternal vow."

Those watching was mesmerised at the supreme display of power - At Lucifer being subdued and stopped, for once. "I think you should return to your room and reflect on your actions, Lucifer. Take a break and return to your duties at the beginning of the week." Lucifer's red eyes were wide and he remained petrified. "Now." the finality of Lord Diavolo's words finally urged him to extinguish his demonic features and exit the room, obeying his orders.

"Sorry to take you away from that mountain of paperwork, Dia." Kitsune's voice returned Diavolo's clarity, and with it, his jolly demeanour. He smiled and turned to look at his girl, his hand caressing her delicate visage.

"I apologise for his reaction. He overstepped his authority." he pulled the jacket closer to her. "It won't happen a third time."

"Do not worry about it, Dia. Really, it is quite alright." she spoke so mellow that Diavolo forgot his own worries. "He was merely worrying about you."

The Prince relaxed visibly once Kitsune held his face so lovingly, as if he was the whole world - He was her whole world. "You always manage to see the best in every situation." he gently held her hands in his own, then looked at the stupefied brothers, who were scattered uncomfortably. 

"Lord Diavolo, wanna play cards with us?" Levi was the first to break the ice.

"That's a great idea, Levi!" Asmo chirped, rushing to grab Diavolo's hand and pull him down around the table. "You can play with Kitsune as a team - Congratulations, by the way! - You should have seen her, Kitsune beat Mammon! At gambling, of all things!"

"Hey, come on, no need to make fun of me!" he started whining again.

"Stop complaining so much - There, I'm teaming up with you." Levi groaned, getting next to the white haired demon. "Asmo is pairing up with Satan... But Beel? What about you?"

Beel returned to his idle, happy munching of his chips. "I'm happy just watching." the others managed to decipher through his chewing.

"A'ight! Since we got a new-comer, here's how it's played---" 

And thus went on a very long and tiresome rant about how a simple play of cards was played....

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[darkdevasofdestruction]

Hi hello! This is my first time on tumbler actually. And I wanted to ask if you still write fanfitions about legend of the phoenix

Yes, I still do :)

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Do you watch the boys? And if yes, can you write for that series?

Sorry, I don't watch that show =/

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Chapter 1 - A Strange New World

"Konnichiwa! Watashi wa Hasashi Kitsune desu, yoroshiku onegaishimasu!" that's how it all began, really. Just a small, yet impossible to understand introduction from the red haired transfer girl. "...Did you just curse me?" the brunette girl, dressed in green robes, asked, her eyebrow arched, very confused. "No, no, I'm sure she sneezed or somethin'. Uh... Gesundheit." the older, brunet boy with crooked front teeth, who was clearly in his final years spoke out with a smirk.

"No, you idiots, didn't you pay attention?" a snobbish pale boy with platinated blond hair, crystal-like blue eyes, and a noble allure, scoffed at the imbeciles surrounding him. He was definitely the leader of the group, the girl noted. "She said... Kitsune something something. I'm sure she was introducing herself to us. You do know English, don't you?" the boy extended his hand for her to shake. "O-Oh, yes, I am sorry! Sometimes I do not realise I speak in my own language. I have not been here for long, you see... In fact, I got here barely a week ago." she cursed herself mentally, whilst using her sweetest soft voice. "My name is Hasashi Kitsune. It is great meeting all of you, and I hope we will get along well! Please take care of me!" with a bright smile, albeit, a bit shy, she bowed slightly to all of them, in sign of peace. "Huh, culture shock. Here, people don't bow to others. You'll learn soon." the boy who introduced himself as Draco Malfoy, explained to her, as he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and straightened her up. "Ah... Right, here you call each other by your... Given name, right? Not the family one." she let out an embarrassed chuckle. "So... It would not be improper to call you Draco, yes? And you can call me Kitsune!" on her pale face, complimenting her beautiful pink outfit, a blush painted her cheeks gracefully, as if she herself was a most innocent and beautiful peony. "You learn fast. Are you from a pureblood family, then? I don't think anything less than a half-blood would be sent to Slytherin." the boy with platinum hair muttered, fixing the girl carefully with his eyes. "I am not sure how pureblood works around here... But, if it makes for anything, I am sort of a Princess. You see, back in the 16th century, there lived a great daimyo - Uh, a Warlord, if you will - He was a samurai... A warrior, the lord of the North of Japan. He was so strong and ruthless, he was called the One-Eyed Dragon of Oshu. Date Masamune was his name. His wife gave birth to a daughter, and she was their most beloved child. And down her line, only girls were born, each of them having this hair ornament as a gift from the mother... And this katana from Masamune himself. There are many children from Date Masamune's bloodline, but I belong to the main branch, so... I am a bit more privileged." 

the red haired girl laughed merrily as the others around her looked with wide, shocked eyes, albeit, a bit confused, but still fixed on the whole idea of having such a bright princess in front of them. In fact, she looked like the most beautiful and pure flower of Spring. A Princess amongst their ranks - That single notion was solely what they cared about. Her blood status. "Ehh, you're a Princess? That's so cool! What's it like being a Princess? Do you have lots of clothes? And live in a castle? Do you have tons of servants too?" the brunette girl called Pansy kept rambling on and on. "Parkinson, calm down, she's a foreigner. She may need some time to process what you're saying. You speak too fast." Marcus put his hand on top of her head to get her to shut up already. "Don't mind her, Princess. Anyway, if anyone gives you a tough time, you come to me, alright? I'll deal with them. After all, Slytherins are one big family, right~?" Draco's low, yet confident chuckle seemed to seep into the group's ears easily, as they all smiled at her very welcoming. "Is that so!" Kitsune exclaimed with glee. "That is so lovely! My bloodline treasures tradition, duty and family above all - You all are so kind and welcoming, I already feel right at home! Thank you so much for this, I hope I will not be bothering you." were all princesses as polite and sweet as she was? Draco wondered, as he analysed her with a half smirk on his face, as he realised he had one more person in his gang, not even bothering to listen to Dumbledore's incredibly boring speech for the 2nd time.

While Parkinson and Bullstrode kept fangirling over the newcomer and pestering her with a million questions per second, the young Malfoy heir laid back a little, observing the girl. Her hair was long past heir waist, and tied neatly at the end with a pink ribbon; In the light of the Great Hall, her hair was shining red, like an Azalea flower kissed by fire, and far more beautiful than a nymph. Her skin was flawless, like that of an antique porcelain doll, and her clothes, although odd for this country, suited her incredibly well - Such a delicate shade of pink, like the petals of a pink rose, wrapped around her and highlighting her noble allure. That, and the dangling flowery ornament placed so tactfully in her hair, the only jewellery she wore - And she needn't any more. Draco has seen plenty Purebloods whilst growing up - His family was, after all, just as their Common Room password, Toujours pur - Yet he could say, with his hand over his heart, never once had he seen a living being radiating so perfectly, like an innocent fairy that could do no wrong. Her fingers were long and slender, her nails were long with a slight claw-like sharpness, her hands were delicate and the way she was using the eating utensils were graceful - Never once had he thought he could call eating 'elegant'. Her posture, her smile, the way there was not a single strand of hair out of place, the careful way she was carrying herself and even the inflections in her voice... All of them came together to create this Gift of God, a perfect specimen of pure beauty. 

Kitsune was, indeed, deserving of the title of Princess.

However, above all, there was one thing that stood out to Draco more than anything - It was her eyes - A perfect shade of Aquamarine, a little blue and a little green, so unique and sparkling like the most precious gem; They were twinkling with so many emotions... And when they looked his way, and locked with his own... Draco felt warmth rising in his cheeks and his heart beating in his chest. Charming. Enchanting. Heart-stealing. Those eyes of hers... They were absolutely mesmerising, capturing him like a siren's melody kissing away the life of a most lovestruck sailor lost at sea.And he was afraid he would soon become her next victim.

The day had been so stressful for the young girl - The nerves were killing her - The whole train ride she was alone... She was standing out like a sore thumb. The only colourful thing in a dark, bleak train. The United Kingdom had its share of green spots, alright... But nothing could prepare her for the monochrome feeling of melancholy and nostalgia she would feel. So lonely... Everything looked so cold and lonely...

She missed home, clearly. She missed the always-blooming Cherry Blossoms and Plum Blossoms from Mahoutokoro, she missed her little flower garden from grandma's home, and she missed the festivals where she'd dress up as a Kitsune in one of her rich, Princess kimonos and perform either sword dances, fan dances or play the flute. She missed the colours from back home... And the shrines. This didn't feel right... She was far away from home... From Masamune's land...

Kitsune almost felt as if nobody wanted to join her because she was so different and she knew very well how people were so afraid of things that are even the slightest thing different from the norm.

As soon as she stepped out of the train, the 12 year old girl followed directions, going on the boat with the other 1st years, as she, too, had to be sorted... And eventually given a set of robes. She heard tales of the Giant Squid from the Black Lake, but she couldn't care less. All she could do was look at the mirror-like sheen of the water, as the silver moonlight reflected into the dark water, creating brilliant zircons - And she let her fingers delicately glide the surface of the water, distorting the reality shown... Just as her own reality has been distorted.

There was a stern attitude to this tall, slender woman who, most likely, was a teacher as well, and she guided them to this huge Great Hall... But she could hear the whispers, the gasps, the talks... All of them wondering why was she there... Who was she, anyway? Then... The first years were so mesmerised by the beauty of this Great Hall... But what was so spectacular about it, anyway?

Mahoutokoro was much more beautiful. When she was sorted into her House - the Sakura House, ironically - flower petals were falling down from the ceiling, and it was bright and sunny inside. The Hall had turned into a gorgeous and flowery garden after her sorting - Only to change to another scenery with the next student. Here, it's dark, it's night... And so cold and gloomy... It felt like a dungeon jail. She wanted to go out, to feel the cold breeze on her skin, and she wanted to hug a tree, to plant a flower, to dance to the sound of the forest and its critters. 

Alas... She was stuck here.

Not too fast, not too late either, she heard her name being called - Hasashi Kitsune - Oh, how she wanted to change her name... Hasashi... Yes, beautiful name, very strong, and yet... Date Kitsune.... Masamune's own kin... She was proud of who she was - Sometimes, she'd even think herself vain. She didn't care that she was a Princess, she cared about her heritage, about the Samurai bloodline, and the honour she had to bring her family - The honour she wanted to bring Masamune. 

She wanted to become great like him, the Fire Fox of Oshu, maybe, or something astounding like that, but until then...

"Hasashi Kitsune, she will join the 2nd years. She is a transfer student from Mahoutokoro, so please, treat her well and make sure she gets used to our culture." the woman spoke as Kitsune had to walk up on the pedestal, and the only thing she could think about as she watched the teachers, and then, she looked over at the boring black dots sorted into four tables, she realised how dull and weird the British-Wizard fashion was. What a dreadful mess.

As she stepped on the 3-legged stool, she let the pointy hat be put on her head, and she heard it talk... It had to be telepathic, clearly, since she heard it naught before. 

"Ahh, a transfer student, hadn't had one of you in a while. In fact, you're the first one from Mahoutokoro. I can see you harbour great sadness and nostalgy in your heart... And at such a young age. Yes, I can see, you are proud of your heritage, and you would do anything to achieve your goal. You are strong, and fearless, yet you choose to mask your fierceness under this delicate facade of politeness. I can see that's how you were taught, and yet, this teaching seems to be suiting you. Very intelligent as well, a lot of ambition, and a strict follower of tradition and duty... Clearly, there's no other house perfect for you than....... SLYTHERIN!" ah, yes, it just had to shout out the house's name in her ear. 

"Arigatou." she thanked the hat as it got taken off, then turned to bow at it quickly, and went to the only table that clapped and cheered...

Well, she liked green, at least... It brought out her eyes really nicely.

She carefully stepped in front of the table, meekly looking around, only to see a blond boy pushing one of the bigger boys away from him and motioning for her to take a seat next to him. Who'd have thought someone would actually go out of their way to chat with her? To help her fit in? Clearly, she didn't expect that... So, then, she had to pull that Princess facade the hat spoke about, and make herself be liked.

Perhaps a group of friends... Or at least acquaintances, were exactly what she needed to take her mind away from the loneliness that tainted her heart. And so... A lovely chat began...

That evening, they chose to rest, since the next day school was going to start full force, and they needed all the strength they could gather, and the chatting and getting to know each other could go through the year with no problem. Breakfast went by excruciatingly fast, and Kitsune's nerves were killing her, she was so nervous, having to meet all teachers one by one now, and she had to make a great impression. She wanted the teachers to be impressed with her, she knew her robes were turning golden very soon, she always had top marks in all her subjects...

But, this day didn't start out very well... They didn't have Herbology as an actual subject back in Mahoutokoro, instead, they would take care of what others would call them "muggle" plants. Children were encouraged to plant and take care of their own flowers in the garden, it was a symbol of diligence and patience, something everyone should have - So, clearly, she wasn't all that familiar with taking care of most magical plants, and there she was, afraid of getting some kind of oral pop quiz and embarrassing herself.

"Come on, don't worry so much, it's gonna be alright! Sprout is the Head of the Hufflepuff house, she's one of the nicest teachers around, trust me. Her and Flitwick, Charms' teacher. You'll be fine." Pansy patted her shoulder, encouraging the girl, who merely nodded and sighed, softly hitting her chest with her fist.

"If I cannot do even something and mediocre as fighting my own fears, than I do not deserve to be Masamune's kin. Let us go. I will not let some stupid plants get to me." Kitsune scoffed, following her new brunette friend, and thus, followed her actions by putting on a very ugly, neutral coloured cape. Not a bad decision, considering she wouldn't want to soil her beautiful pink robes... For as long as she'll wear them, at least.

She held her hands in tight fists, her jaw clenched as she waited for the teacher to arrive in the humid and warm, incredibly cramped greenhouse, where everyone was standing in front of a pot... The girl couldn't help but feel judgemental, thinking back at how pristine clean and luxuriant everything felt back at home.

Then, just as she side-eyed everything with a sort of arrogant allure, a short and stout woman, kinda looking like a smiling pumpkin, walked in, welcoming everyone in a hurried way, telling them they would be repotting mandrakes.

Blinking, she felt bad for judging this place so harshly, this woman seemed to have a nice aura around her. After all, plants can feel people's auras, and they wouldn't grow and bloom so beautifully around people who emanate negative vibes - She was sure of that, and she learnt that since she was young. She really loved flowers.

"Sensei, may I answer, please?" with a soft, timid smile, Kitsune leaned forward a bit, raising her hand mid-way to announce her presence, not being familiar with how things were around this place.

"Ah, you're the new girl, how lovely! Miss Hasashi, yes? Did you have Herbology back in your school?"  oh, she's actually interested in her culture and education?! And she remembered her name so quickly! My, she's flattered! "O-Oh, yes, that is my name, thank you for remembering it! I love all kinds of plants and flowers, however, we didn't have this kind of Herbology as a class back home. Instead, since we start school at 7 years old, and we finish at 18, we are encouraged to plants any kind of plant we want, be it a tree, a flower, a bonsai... Anything - In the School's flower garden - And we are encouraged to properly attend to its every need. It does not only test our patience, hard-work and diligence, but it teaches you that the gentler and kinder you are to any living being, the more beautiful it will grow!" 

Draco looked at the girl as she spoke, and realised the way she pronounced some words - Some letters, in fact - Sounded melodic, albeit in a strange, foreign way. Her difficulty in properly pronouncing the 'R' letter was amusing, yet it seemed to suit her very well. He didn't care much about what she had to say, however, the way the Greenhouse suddenly started glowing thanks to her seemed to attract his attention.

"How fascinating! That is completely true for all plants, be it muggle or magical ones, and just as you said, for all living beings! I would have loved to have a sweet student such as you in my own House, alas, Professor Snape will have that privilege. Anyhow, go ahead and answer the question, please." the professor nodded with a kind smile seeing the petite girl giving such a kitten-like smile, despite the obvious shyness she presented, and yet, the way she spoke wasn't meek - It wasn't stuttery, nor awkward, like say - Longbottom or Weasley.

Despite being soft-spoken, she was sure of every word she said - A certain kind of confidence that wasn't arrogant, nor Know-It-All - It was the kind of leadership confidence that would inspire others and that, Sprout knew, was very hard to find nowadays, and she wondered whether that was a culture difference, or if it was simply how she was.

"Mandrake, also known as Mandragora, in the magical world, is used to create a potion that can return those who have been petrified, back to their original state. However, in the... Muggle world, as you call it, the root can be used to treat several illnesses, such as stomach ulcer, colic, convulsions, rheumatism, it can trigger vomiting, it can be used as a sedative of sorts, and reduce pain, whilst the leaves can be used to create an extract and heal skin ulcers. However, it can also do bad things, since, if you are not careful, its cry can be fatal to those who hear it." Kitsune spoke out, and one girl from her line, with pretty, bushy chestnut hair and doe-like, very kind eyes, looked at her with sparks and admiration -

She only learnt textbook stuff, all the magical things from the books she had for school, and yet, this transfer student could be an intellectual rival to her! Was she a half-blood? Could that be why she's so well-versed in both worlds? Oh, this little Gryffindor was so eager to get to know her better! She didn't seem snobbish, nor mean, like the rest of the Green-Robed horde she had to encounter in the past year.

"Excellent, Miss Hasashi, absolutely excellent! 15 points to Slytherin! Are you perhaps interested in becoming a Healer, my dear?" the teacher asked, very impressed at the vast knowledge, yet, she was well aware that this plant they were studying today has been documented since ancient times and everyone, muggle or not, would know at least a little bit about it.

"Oh, yes, actually, I am! I am interested in many things, however, Healing I find a very important skill to be knowledgeable in, and I hope I will succeed and be able to cure and take away the pain of as many living beings as possible!" with a crystalline giggle, she clasped together her hands to her chest, almost bouncing in her spot from excitement getting to talk - Even if just a little bit - About the things she's so interested in. In fact...

Kitsune had to admit, no matter how much of a sin it may be, she loved to be the center of attention - Only if it was positive, obviously.

"I am sure the Medical field is going to benefit greatly from having someone like you to aid them! Well then, moving on. As our Mandrakes are still only seedlings, their cries won't kill you... Yet. But they could knock you out for hours, which is why I have given you earmuffs, for auditory protection. So, could you please put them on, right away? Quickly. Flaps tight down, and watch me closely." as Kitsune put on her very ugly earmuffs, she could feel the Fashion Police screeching in agony, yet at the same time, she was focusing her hearing so she could hear the instructions and correlate them to the teacher's actions...

Not that it was a big deal. However, she didn't very much like the idea of having to do anything that required strength, in particular, the upper body, as the Fox-like girl preferred to use agility and speed, rather than brute strength which she very much lacked... As seen when she sometimes struggles to open water bottle caps... In front of others.

Her bright, gem-like eyes attentively watched the mandrake being repotted, only for one of the students, one that very much resembled a Nezumi... A small, meek mouse... To faint at the almost-grotesque look of the mandrake root, that looked like a deformed baby.

As the saying goes, Monkey Says - Monkey Does, and thus, the students were then urged to repeat as they saw, and Kitsune chose to go quickly and get rid of this job, but as she was done, she heard a grunt from her left - Her new friend, Draco, after laughing at the ugly plant, stuck his finger in its mouth, only for it to bit him.

"Oh, dear, that is no good!" with a soft gasp, the girl firmly grasped the mandrake's mouth, and dug into it from the sides with her thumbs, prying it open - Thankfully, it opened its mouth quickly, letting the boy rescue his finger - And the girl carefully potted the plant, letting out an exhale, before taking off her own gloves, and his, carefully cradling his injured hand. "Does it hurt, Draco? Are you alright?" she asked worriedly, seeing the red finger, she tapped it with the tips of her fingers and muttered a quick Episkey, healing the inflammation. "Any better?"

"Huh... You'll be a good Healer in the future. Yeah, I'm good, thanks. It still hurts a bit, but it's nothing big." he muttered, blinking as he examined his perfectly cured finger.

"Well... There you go." as the girl held his hand in both of hers, soft like clouds, he realised, so graceful and delicate as only a Princess would, she raised his hand to her mouth, and he watched with wide eyes and mouth agape as he saw her kissing his knuckles. "Obaa-sama... Uhm... Granny, I mean... She taught me when I was a child that you can take away the pain by kissing the place where you got hurt... It sort of acts as a charm, you could say. Not the type taught in magic school, I mean. Such a cute, little thing done from one person to another. So, I am doing it to you. I hope the pain will go away soon, Draco." the girl smiled, and for him, it seemed like the moment lasted for a hundred lifetimes.

He felt stuck in that exact second, and he wished for a spell to be invented to stop time, so he could stay like this with her. All this time, in this short time on Earth, he received love from his mother, and he held her so dear to his heart. And now, he had the luck to have this stranger behave so nicely to him. Not an obsessive and annoying kind of nice, like Parkinson, when she'd always bug him, but one where it gave him the space to not feel smothered, but when needed, it would come by and caress your heart, like a warm, Spring breeze. "Your people are very different from ours. But I guess it worked. I feel much better. Come now, let's get out of here before I lose my hearing to some stupid dirt baby thing. We have Potions now, with our Head of the House, Professor Snape. You're gonna love him. He takes kindly to those who are diligent and obviously interested in the subject, like you. Just... Don't be intimidated by him. Stay around me, and you'll be good." Ha... He's so cocky, Kitsune thought... Does she really seem like someone who needs constant protection?

How amusing. I bet when he'll have the sharp blade of my katana at his throat, slowly digging into his skin, feeling small droplets of blood falling down, he won't feel the same, the girl thought to herself, covering her mouth with her long haori sleeve, stifling her giggle. "Thank you for taking care of me, Draco. You are so sweet and attentive with me." even the most skilled of puppeteers can have strings, dear Draco, and trust me, you're nowhere near as close to being one of the best.

" 'Course I am." he nodded, flashing her a charming smirk, as they rushed to the dungeons - A place so humid, cold and dark, a place where their own House Common Room was... Just under the Black Lake. It almost felt as if they were isolated from the rest of the world.

The wooden heels of her zori made clicks into the cobbled stone, resounding throughout the long corridors, and the boy opened the door, allowing her to go through first, and went to one of the desks closer to the front, wanting to show they were paying attention, but not enough that they would be constantly in his attention - After all, they liked whispering to each other in class, why take that privilege away?

So, they opened their textbooks, and as they were chatting lightly, the door was abruptly slammed open, and in, came a tall, brunet man, with a very stern, almost scary look on his face, dressed in all black. As he rushed in, the Japanese girl stood up and bowed, saluting the teacher, only for everyone to look at her weirdly, including this Snape person.

"...Cultural difference?" she whispered to her deskmate quietly, her face burning with embarrassment as she bit her lip harshly.

"Hmm... I see. Is this your way of saluting and showing respect to teachers, Hasashi?" the teacher asked as he prowled in front of her desk, towering over her small form, almost shadowing her completely.

"Hai... I apologise for offending you with my actions, Sensei, I have not yet gotten used to the English way. I have made a mistake, please punish me accordingly." she bowed lower, only to hear a few stifled giggles around the class, overshadowed by an amused scoff from the man who tapped her shoulder and motioned her to get up.

"It's fine, you didn't offend anyone. In fact, I'd say you should teach this lot to be more respectful of the teacher staff. Since I did not receive any report card on your grades, I will ask you a few questions so I can understand the level of your aptitudes. Do you understand?" he asked, folding his arms at his chest, looking like an oversized bat, at most. Yes, he seemed intimidating, but if she couldn't go past something like this, then she wasn't worthy of sharing the same blood as the fearless Masamune Date.

"Hai. I am ready, Sensei." to show she wasn't afraid, her green eyes, full of life, peered deep into his dark, abyss-like ones, that seemed to hide only death and desolation. If only either of them knew, it was quite the opposite. "What colour should a Shrinking Solution be?" his first question came after a few seconds of pondering, unlike her answer, faster than blinking - Ashido Midori - She said, only to stumble over and correct herself in English, Acid Green, this time. "Good, good. What would you get if you added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" "Uh... What do you call it in English... It sends the drinker into a death-like state, comatose like, almost... Flood of Zombie?" she frowned, looking down as she tried to think of the English equivalent. "Essence of the Dead that Lives?" she tried again, which made a few students laugh. She wanted to lash out, to cut off their heads and put them on spikes, to laugh at them, but she had to be polite to everyone... She had to fit in and make friends, and then, as any businessman would say - Profit. "Draught of Living Death, you are correct, Hasashi. As per your incredibly smart colleagues, I will remind them of the tragic grades they took at the exams last year, and how they only passed through sheer luck and the kindness of my own heart. Next. Tell me what is the most powerful love potion, and its distinctive characteristics." oh, yes, the teacher helps the pitiful child who tries their best, but still struggles - If this isn't a plus for me, I don't know what is - Kitsune thought, as she tried her best to keep a smirk from creeping on her face.

"Amortentia... Although, I wouldn't call that love, but obsession. And, uh... The colour of the sheen is like... Pearl. And... Smoke comes up in specific swirls. And it smells different for each person, depending on what they love." she explained, making a motions with her hands to show the smoke raising up. "You already know more than all of these dunderheads who have the audacity to laugh. Last question, and we're done here. Armadillo bile, scarab beetles, and ginger roots, what do you use them for?" he asked once again, and in his heart, seeing this little girl dressed in flower clothes - Red hair, green eyes - He was so bitterly reminded of Her. The woman who once captured his heart, from when she was a little girl, up until the time they grew up... And yet, only one grew to be middle aged, for the other died so cruelly... She was taken away from him... "Smart potion!" she answered quickly, pointing to her head - Her brain, rather - "Makes you think clearly. More attentive." she explained well enough... Yes, Lily was a true prodigy in potions as well. Ask her anything, and she'd know. Just like he was, and still is, a Master of Potions. "20 points to Slytherin... And 10 points off for each of you who dared laugh. Sit down, Hasashi. Fire-Protection potion. I will write down the ingredients and steps on how to brew it..." and so, Kitsune sat down, shared a triumphant look with her platinated friend with whom she fist-bumped quickly before they started taking notes.

The rest of the class went about as one would expect - Twenty cauldrons stood steaming between the wooden desks, on which stood brass scales and jars of ingredients, and every student, paired up, was attending their potion, on which they would lately be graded... And then, just like at the previous class, something had to go amiss, that something being this Gryffindor boy, the meek mouse from earlier who fainted... And now, he made the cauldron explode... Somehow.

There were only 3 steps, how could one go so wrong? Was this boy vision-impaired, or simply incompetent? Not to say that mistakes weren't human, clearly, but this was really something else. Something big enough for Snape to overreact, scold the boy, Evanesco-away the potion and give him a straight Zero on it. Oh well...

This class went by faster than expected, and thus, lunch came by, and Kitsune could only look at the food and sigh - She really craved some Ramen... Or at least one of those super cheap, supermarket instant-Udon... And she missed seeing everyone use chopsticks... And having Bento, eating outside, in the lovely sun. Shaking her head, she took out her own chopsticks and put a little bit of everything on her plate, wanting to eat in peace and quiet... But the gang was anything but that, and she couldn't help but chuckle and partake occasionally in their conversation.

"Did you hear those stupid Gryffindors laughing at you?! Gosh, how I wanted to teach them a lesson. How dare they laugh at our Princess?" Draco sneered angrily, only for the girl to carefully put down her plate and place her hand on his shoulder, smiling at him. "Thank you for being here for me, Draco. I know I can rely on you if I ever need you. There is no need to get angry on my behalf, you saw that Sensei punished them accordingly." ever the peace-maker, Kitsune... If only they knew... "All they know is to ridicule and make fun of us, just because we are superior! They are nothing more than disgusting blood-traitors and mudbloods!"  harsh, Parkinson... So harsh... So cruel... "Do you know Quidditch, Kitsune?" after scoffing to calm himself down, the boy turned to look at her. "Oh, yes, I know the game! I never played it myself, but I went to all the matches in our school. I find it very fascinating." she smiled at him - She seemed to have a passive, gentle smile on her face whenever around anyone who would approach her with good intentions. "Then, will you cheer for me at the next match?" he smirked, wanting to hear the praises of all those around him. "Ehhh? You got chosen for the Slytherin's team?! Already?!" Parkinson gasped in shock... The two goons behind him seemed to want to say something, but they were much too dumb to open their mouth and say something that wasn't akin to a gorilla laugh. "Of course! I'm the Slytherin's new Seeker! Not to mention, my dad made a very kind donation to our team. He got us all Nimbus 2001. There's no way we're gonna lose against anyone, including Scar-face!" the boy boasted confidently, only for the girl dressed in pink to almost literally have question marks above her head, as she smiled wider, albeit, very confused. "Uhm... Who is... Scar... Face?" she mumbled softly, not wanting to bother. "Ohhh, right, right, you don't know... You don't know Saint Potter. Honestly, it's better that you don't know him...Yet, you have to know about him, so you keep your distance. Look over there. See that guy with glasses? Yeah, that's him. That's Potter. That ginger hobo is Weasley, and rodent teeth with hair like a bush is Mudblood Granger. They are the worst. And Dumbledore praises them just because they are Gryffindors. It's unfair and stupid. That's why Snape protects us. He's the only teacher who isn't lenient with those idiots there." the boy tried to explain, but such silly misunderstandings seemed nothing but childish for her, and she only chuckled in agreement. "This war between houses seems really silly if you ask me. I cannot say I understand this competition of yours. We are sorted into four Houses too, but they are all representatives of a flower from each season. We have Cherry Blossom for Spring, Lotus for Summer, Chrysanthemum for Autumn and Plum for Winter. They all have their traits, of course, that is why we are sorted accordingly, but in the end, we are all flowers, and we should be kind to one another... That is what we are taught." she explained, hoping they would stop this idiocy, at least in her presence. "Flowers for Houses, huh? How very feminine. Yes, I have to say, flowers and colours suit you well. Then, what are the traits for each House? Tell me that, and I'll tell you about ours." leaning his elbow on the table, as he rested his jaw on his palm, Draco leisurely relaxed in his seat, waiting for the girl to speak. In fact, he realised that, the more native words she spoke, the cuter she was.

"Well, I was sorted into the Sakura house... The Cherry Blossom. My House stands for feminine beauty, strength and mystery, while also acknowledging the fleeting nature of life, and how one must do anything to achieve their goals. The Cherry Blossom is a national treasure, and since we start school in April, the two weeks in which the trees are in bloom, we go watch the beautiful flowers. Most people sorted here choose to go to Kendo classes... Uh... Sword fighting, if you will. And we... We mix dancing and fighting. Like Yin and Yang, we combine the feminine grace with the masculine strength... Et voila. We have this." she giggled softly, thinking with glee at the wonderful sensation of having the handle of her katana... Masamune's own katana... grasped tightly in her hand as she slashed away at the bamboo sticks with perfect accuracy.

"...You mean to say... You can fight with a sword? Like... A real sword?" Pansy gasped loudly, which seemed to peak everyone's interest... The people around, that is.

"H-Hai... Hai. I told you, I come from a Samurai bloodline. For me, it is the highest honour to be able to wield Masamune's katana. Life is short, I fear nothing, and I will allow nothing to come between me and my happiness and ambition. Masamune once said... 'You cannot enjoy life if you spend all your time huddling in fear, hiding your eyes. Let go of your fear. Look where you are. Enjoy yourself. You can do whatever you like, just make sure you are doing that for you, not for anyone else. It's your life, not anybody else's.' I choose to live by his words, and somehow, I believe that most of my house chose this as our House's quote." this foreigner... Is something else. She sounds like a muggle, somehow, and yet, things abroad seems so... Different.

Like it's a whole other world than the one he lives in. This is weird, this is strange, and yet... And yet, Draco's unquenchable thirst for knowledge and for unveiling mysteries makes him want to know more and more about this land of mystery.

"So, you say you have your sword with you? Here? At Hogwarts?" Draco leaned forward, very intrigued. "Sono tori desu." the girl nodded simply, patting the sword attached to her hip, before continuing. "I would rather die than have that sword taken away from me. It means to me more than anything else in the world."

"Show us, then! I've never seen a sword in my life - How cool!" Parkinson chirped immediately, only to be cut off by the foreigner's edged voice. "Kotowaru." she shook her head solemnly. "You are not used to having weapons around you. All you know is that wooden, pointy stick of yours. I could take off your head before you would even be able to blink. I do not make mistakes. I NEVER make mistakes. And yet, if one of you accidentally did something stupid, I would be the one to take the blame, not any of you. I'm not going to entertain any of you. I am a Princess. Only a select few can watch me perform, and neither of you earned that privilege." the girl scoffed, obviously offended. She even looked away like an indignant Princess, Draco thought in amusement. Very dignified and prideful. "Come on, Princess, don't get mad at us. I'm sure these guys are sorry for being insensitive idiots." however, just as Draco scolded his friends, an owl flies into the Great Hall, letting a letter fall into Weasley's food plate... Only for him to stare horrified at it, almost crying. Well, first of all, the bird fell in the food too, but... That's the least of his embarrassment. A Howler, they called it... "Draco... What's a... A... That." she pointed at the letter. "It's a show. Watch and see, Princess." Draco laughed along with all the goons around him and the letter suddenly rose up and started shrieking at the ginger boy, making the girl gasp in shock. "RONALD WEASLEY! How DARE you steal that car! I am absolutely DISGUSTED! Your father's now facing an inquiry at work and it's ENTIRELY! YOUR! FAULT! If you put another TOE out of the line, we'll bring you STRAIGHT HOME! Oh, and Ginny, dear, congratulations on making Gryffindor, your father and I are so proud." the obnoxious letter must have been from his mother, Kitsune thought, as she watched the letter stick its... Uh... Tongue at him, then rip itself apart. However, as sympathetic as she wanted to appear, she couldn't help but stifle a laughter as well as everyone around. "I surely didn't expect something like this to happen. You were right, this was quite the show. But... No matter what he did, he surely shamed his family. But such a public scolding? My... How dishonourable..." the girl shuddered slightly, cringing at the idea. "The Weasleys are a shame to this wizarding world, Kitsune. They are all Blood Traitors. This is what he deserves." but his harsh words, although they bothered her, she didn't care to refute or anything. This wasn't her country, nor her school, nor her people or her friends. These were all just a bunch of mean-spirited strangers who knew nothing but to be hostile against each other. What an obnoxious place she was stuck into.

Can't she just go home already? This whole ordeal is so troublesome...

Next Chapter >

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Chapter 14 - Goddess of the Luo River

It was already a week before New Year's, and Kitsune's days were numbered on the fingers of both hands. It was maddening the Demon Prince, terrifying him for the first time - That he will experience a loss that would leave his heart shattered in pieces forever. He was afraid that, if Kitsune died, he would be incapable of falling in love again - As profoundly as he loves Kitsune - And he would become just like his father.

He did not want to become like his father.

They celebrated a weird version of Christmas a few days prior, but for Kitsune it hardly meant anything. She couldn't fully understand the meaning of Christmas, not the birth of the Biblical figure of Jesus Christ and what it means to the religious Christianity cult; For most people, Christmas wasn't a religious festivity, however, it just meant a reason to celebrate and exchange gifts - Though even that was lost of the fox lady. She hardly had any Grimm to buy anyone gifts - So she went with Mammon to buy gifts - Generic, low-cost Christmas things that meant nothing to her; A scarf, a snowy globe, some mittens - Of course, the Greed Avatar was the happiest with his money gift.

On the other note, Kitsune received some expensive gifts - She was surprised she received anything at all though; It was quite sad - But with time, he was sure she will be able to understand the spirit of gifting to your loved ones. A nice outfit, a rare book, a lovely make up set, a gorgeous pair of shoes - But she couldn't understand the value of money in her own world, let alone in the Devildom. She'd lived through too many eras and currencies.

"Are you all ready?" Kitsune asked as everyone gathered in the House of Lamentation. It was the 'Day of Death' ritual she had to do every year at the shrine - A celebration of death and appreciation of life - A day where the souls of the deceased can roam the earth once more, and mingle with the living - A custom only she could do. 

As everyone affirmed they were ready to go, Diavolo teleported them to the human world. Everyone was dressed appropriately, elegant as never before; The priestesses guided them to the long banquet table, serving them wine, sake and meals of all kinds - All that while watching Kitsune perform, in front of a crowd of humans. They were not allowed to take photographs or film anything; They were a very select few, who would brave the wilderness just to see their beloved for a few hours.

The Sun was about to set down, and the festivity was to begun. Kitsune now stood in the very middle of the stage, looking down with perfect stillness at the people present. "In a festival where we celebrate life - We must also learn to appreciate death." she began. "When one life ends, another begins - And when one begins, another ends - Such is the circle of life that none is exempt from." what a harsh reality that must be for humans, the demons thought to themselves; Though perhaps this idea of a circle of life - A Samsara - The Afterlife and Reincarnation proved to make death easier for them; Death wasn't the end of life, but just another journey. 

"From the time we first cry into this world, after crawling out of our mother's womb, to the time we last take breath, and our remains are burnt, ashes scattered into the wind, to grant us our lasting freedom - We must celebrate life, in all its forms, from the littlest, to the biggest, oldest, and youngest, plant, beast or human, oni, youkai, kami, gashadokuro, yurei, and everything in between." the demon Lords were familiar to some of the entities mentioned, thanks to her extensive care in choosing their Hyakki Yako costumes for the Demon Parade. "In this day, we are blessed to communicate with the skies - Share our messages to those who are no longer amongst us - And they, too, will caress our faces once more." at once, from inside her sleeve, Kitsune took out that magical fan of hers, and with the beat of the instruments, she began dancing - The moves were unlike anything they've ever seen - Not that they've witnessed many such ritual dances, let alone fan dances, or anything that wasn't from the Devildom. - Diavolo, like the others, felt trapped in her trance, and he was sure, all of them were enchanted, one way or another. Her moves were fluid and each movement held perfect discipline, to create a most outstanding show.

As the Sun finally set completely, Kitsune snapped close the fan, driving it back inside the sleeve, only to retrieve something else - It was a her Gohei wand, with the handle a crimson red, and an a golden crest on top - It was the Sasarindo, as Shingen informed, a symbol of the Minamoto clan, the imperial bloodline. From it, two rows of flowing ropes, adorned with paper squares glued together, painted from white, to gold, in perfect gradient - It acted akin to a wand to her, Solomon thought to himself, as he watched the way she danced with it, only to throw it up in the sky, and with a foreign incantation, looking up like a shaman praying to nature's elements - Mystical lights that looked like ghosts and wisps started illuminating the night sky, brighter than the stars, as if the souls of the deceased were descending from Heaven - And as the wand fell back in her grasp, the lights disappeared. 

"Let us celebrate, together, as brothers and sisters!" the stars were invisible, as large, colourful fireworks bombed all across the sky, all the way, until you couldn't see the horizon anymore - Intricate shapes of all kinds, and they dances, and swayed around, depicting stories and folklore that though they couldn't understand, they still could appreciate the grandeur of it.

The luminous wisps that looked like fireflies became corporeal - Elderly, children, men and women - They all reunited with some living person from the audience.  Mammon picked on an elderly man, barely holding himself up with his cane, smiling warmly as the spirit of his young, beautiful wife engulfed him into a hug - He felt like crying, realising the elderly man would crawl the whole dangerous and perilous wilderness, just for a chance to his the woman he loves once more time before they are reunited.

Luke started sobbing into Simeon's chest, pointing towards a child looking very much like him, brought here by his grandparents, was weeping and hugging his phantasmal parents who died young. They would hug him, kiss him and listen to all of his stories - He just started school, and he loved learning - He wanted to become an astronaut, so that one day, he would be able to visit them among the stars.

Solomon found himself gritting his teeth as he watched a teenage girl nervously approach the spirit of her grandmother, holding a worn recipe book in her hands. The grandmother had passed away before she could teach her granddaughter how to cook the family’s traditional dishes, but now, the girl knelt beside her spirit, carefully following her grandmother’s gentle guidance as they prepared a meal together—one filled with love, tradition, and the bittersweet joy of a reunion that transcended time.

Levi sniffed, hugging himself with his tail as he noticed a elderly soldier casually hanging out with his teenage best friend and comrade - A true friendship that lasted for decades as he's always wished for, a loyalty and comradeship he's not experienced even when he was the Navy Captain; The living was wearing the old war uniform proudly, to show his respect and love for his fallen friend. The man held a box of old, weathered comic books that they used to read together, their shared love for heroes and adventures alive once more. They spent the night flipping through the pages, laughing at the same jokes, reminiscing about the imaginary worlds they had once explored together, and for a moment, the years that had separated them melted away.

Beel, for once, wasn't unable to eat; The infinite void in his stomach was temporarily filled as he saw a man kneeling before the spirit of his younger brother, who had died suddenly in an accident. The man held out a small, worn baseball glove, the same one they used to play catch with as children, and the brother’s spirit grinned, taking the glove in his ethereal hands, the two of them tossing a ball back and forth like they used to, reconnecting over a simple game that meant the world to them both.

Asmodeus also had to cling onto Solomon and carefully wipe away the tears - But not the perfectly applied make up - As he saw a living man, on his knees, before his heavily pregnant wife... She had died, along with their child, before she could give birth... And the man was hugging her belly, sobbing inconsolably and asking for forgiveness.

Simeon felt a pang of pain in his heart as he watched as a group of siblings, all now adults, gathered around the spirit of their mother, who had passed away when they were still children. They each took turns sharing stories of their lives, telling her about the families they had built, the careers they had pursued, and the way they had carried her lessons and love with them through all these years. The mother’s spirit smiled, her presence a reminder that she had never truly left them, and she kept kissing their foreheads and cheeks, just as she did to them as children.

Lucifer found himself deeply moved by a woman who sat alone, holding the spirit of a withered rose in her hands. The rose had been a gift from her late husband, given to her on their first anniversary, and though it had died long ago, the spirit of the flower bloomed with the moonlight once more in her hands, its fragrance bringing back memories of the love they had shared, a love that still lived on, even beyond death. Satan watched quietly as a young mother, her eyes heavy with sleepless nights, cradled the spirit of her infant child in her arms. The baby had passed away in its sleep, and now, for just one night, she sang a lullaby that only the two of them knew, tears mingling with her song as the spirit cooed softly, comforted by the familiar melody.

Diavolo found himself deeply moved as he watched a man kneeling before the spirit of his estranged father, who had died before they could reconcile. The man held a bundle of letters - Apologies he had written but never sent. The father’s spirit reached out, and as they embraced, the man felt the weight of years of regret lift, replaced by a profound sense of peace. They spent the night talking, finally saying all the words that had gone unsaid in life, finding the closure they both needed. Would this be how he and his own father end up?

EvenBarbatos paused in his duties, his usual passive visage holding a bittersweet smile as he watched an elderly woman, frail and bent with age, as she danced slowly in the moonlight with the spirit of her long-lost lover. The two had been separated by war decades ago, never to reunite in life, but now they moved together in perfect harmony, reliving the joy of their youth as if no time had passed at all.

That old woman was Aiko and her husband who died in war.

As the servants took care of the attendants, Kitsune returned back to the shrine, where she was able to change into a dancing outfit, but she hadn't returned to her guests - She remained in the middle of the court, looking up into the dark sky. The smoke from the fireworks had dissipated, and the stars were twinkling as powerful as ever.

"I never imagined even demons could cry." Aiko's elderly voice resounded among the guests, startling them. "Ah, of course, forgive me - I forgot some of you were angels... And wizards too."

"Darling, don't tease them so much." her husband's smile was dazzling and charming, Diavolo noted - No wonder she loved him for so many decades.

"I am glad to see you again, Aiko. You are happy, just as you said." the Prince smiled at the joyful elderly woman.

"I had been waiting 67 years to reunite with my beloved, Little Lordling. Of course I am happy." the husband gathered her in his arms, a tear escaping his eye as he kissed her forehead.

"And I have missed you every day, looking down at you from the skies." his voice was so soft and tender that it made Asmo and Mammon hug each other and cry like babies. They were so weak when it came to romance.

"Lady Aiko - Why is no one going to Kitsune?" surprisingly, it was Satan asking. He remembered her distress during the game - Surely, she would have at least one person to want to see her... Right?

"We are a bunch of elderly ladies, Little Demon." Aiko said, pointing towards the spirits of the mikos who slowly gathered around the fox lady. "The Princess raised us all as her own children - We owe her everything." she smiled gently, looking at the poor fox lady sobbing as her children embraced her and expressed their gratitude. "We had nothing - That's why she took us in. Some of us were were refugees, some lost our husbands, children or family and had nowhere to go... Some were born here... Others came to seek a change... But whatever the reason for us being here... The Princess nurtured us as if we were her own children, and taught us everything she knew... History, language, culture, art, literature, poetry, war, spirituality... Everything."

"A mother should not live to see her children dying." Simeon found himself bitterly speaking.

"Quite so, Little Angel. The poor Princess experienced far too much loss... She should not be lingering longer amongst the living. She should take her place among equals that she could cherish forever." the priestesses vanished, as if to push Kitsune towards her guests.

"Kitsune, you were so beautiful!" Asmo chimed as sweetly and enthusiastic as ever.

"Yeah, you were so cool! I'm jealous on how cool you were!" Levi joined also.

"Those fireworks were awesome!" Mammon said also.

"I thought her all about gun powder." said a foreign voice that everyone jump in surprise - A man with silvery-white hair and a snake-like smile had appeared just to her side; To think even Kitsune would be caught off guard. "Well - I suppose I can only be glad the apprentice overshadowed her master... Not that you'd shoot your musket better than me."

"Mitsuhide!" the fox lady chirped - A fire fox and a silver fox were staring at each other.

"So I was called!" he turned towards the feast with a mock bow. "To think you'd replace us so easily - My, little fox, you wound me!"

"W-Wait, no -- It is not like that -- I could never --" the stupefied woman stuttered over her words so cutely; Few times anyone witnessed her so speechless.

"What did I say about teasing the Princess?!" from behind her, a tall man, more burly, with messy brown hair and a frustrated expression on his face, like that of an exasperated mother scolding her misbehaving children. "Mitsuhide, back off!"

"Ah, it's Lord Nobunaga's lapdog... Shouldn't you be looking to become a doormat by now?" the silver haired man sniggered elusively, enjoying the raise he gets out of the other. Hideyoshi was so easy to work up!

"Will you two stop this charade already? You are making fools of yourself." this man was blond with shorter messy hair, dressed in autumnal colours and an apathetic look on his face. 

"Lord Toyotomi, Lord Akechi, please stop your fighting. You are upsetting the princess." came a softer reply from a grey-haired man, smaller, but no less elegant. It was Ishida Mitsunari.

"Ieyasu..." Kitsune threw her arms around her best friend; "My friend, how I have missed you so!" it was Ieyasu and his wife and confidante, Lady Saigo, with whom she spent most of her time after Nobunaga's death - He was young, intelligent and interested in medicine; Likewise, Lady Saigo was well-read in history, politics and war, but also talented in arts of all kinds. She had the best of times spending time with them... And nurturing their children. It was then that she learnt how to take care of people - The influence was a good one, as the priestesses said.

"What about me?!" came a loud, brash yet playful voice - It almost sounded like Mammon whining for attention.

"Shut up, cyclops!" both Kitsune and Ieyasu snapped at him, only to look at each other and stifle a chuckle.

The tall man with long black hair and a single beautiful blue eyes was Date Masamune, the One-Eyed Dragon of Oshu. He was the only trusted friend that Kitsune and Ieyasu had while building the Tokugawa Shogunate; He was wearing a disheveled blue outfit and a black eyepatch over his missing left eye - He had taken it out by himself when he was 14 and afflicted with smallpox; Truly, he wouldn't have cared about it, but Ieyasu warned him an enemy might grab his dangling eye and incapacitate him. What a menace.

"N'aww, c'mon, lemme join the hug!" Masamune threw his arms around Kitsune and Ieyasu, squishing them together.

"Lord Date, please back away. That is no way to treat a Princess." Mitsunari sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Well, Mitsunari, don't you know? When you see something cute, you have to squish them to death. Perhaps that is what Masamune is trying to do." Mitsuhide sniggered under his breath.

"Masamune would never hurt Princess Kitsune and Lord Tokugawa." Hideyoshi got in Mitsuhide's face, having a verbal altercation again.

"That's right - I would never!" Masamune let out a boastful laugh - And then started pulling on her tails, wrapping himself in them. "But I do like a nice scarf!"

"Hey - My tails are not scarfs - Leave them alone, Oni-brain!" much to the demons' shock, Kitsune started chasing Masamune around as if playing tag - He was the youngest of the Sengoku Lords she befriended so intimately - And it was showing. They were behaving like two children, Mitsuhide and Hideyoshi were arguing with each other, and Mitsunari and Ieyasu were trying to pull them away. They weren't unlike the Demon Lords in their childishness.

"Princess Kitsune has forgotten her manners as usual - How quaint!" Aiko laughed heartily. "Your old mentor would have your head for this misbehaving!"

Eventually, they all sat down at the table, wining and dining merrily, sharing stories of all kinds - Like one silly family to the other. Eventually, some of the younger priestesses came by, and they also got social and friendly with the Lord on both sides. Once they were drunk enough, they started chanting Kitsune's name, their alcohol cups up in the air. 

"That's right - Haven't seen Princess Kitsune's dancing in a while!" Masamune threw his arm around her shoulders, making her hunch from the sudden pressure. The ogre was drunk as hell.

"Oh, I'd love to see Kitsune dance! I bet she's a lovely dancer!" Luke was the first to chirp up.

"You should hear her singing, little mouse~." the silver fox chuckled, watching the chihuahua blush and protest at his nickname. "Like a precious nightingale."

"How come you never sang for us, Kitsune?!" Asmo whined playfully. 

"Come on, sing for us." Simeon urged her.

"You are awful - All of you - You know that, right?" the poor girl sighed pitifully, getting up from her seat.

One of the priestesses brought the zither to Ieyasu to play for the Princess - His wife taught him well - And thus, Kitsune started singing in a voice as mellow and sweet as a ripe fruit - And her dance was as graceful as a swan. The guests were marveling at her beauty, while those familiar with her endeavours were cheering on her, equally mesmerised by her enchanting magic.

She is lightsome as a startled swan-goose, As graceful as a roaming dragon; Her lovely complexion outshines the autumn chrysanthemum, Her radiance surpasses the springtime pine.

She is as nebulous as the moon concealed in light clouds, Gracefully gliding, as snow spun by a flowing wind. Gazing at her from afar, She shines like the sun rising above the rosy mists of dawn;

Observing her close by, She is as luminous as a lotus emerging from clear ripplets. ...

Her singing and Ieyasu's zither playing all stopped in unison at the sound of a flute taking charge, dominating the scene. Everyone knew who he was, without a need for introduction. Lord Oda Nobunaga wore a serene expression as he played the bamboo flute for Kitsune to play to his tune.

In perfect sync, the Princess danced around him with the beauty of a pink lotus and the grace of the Phoenix Empress. The universe had created them for each other, only to rip them apart.  Her smile was wide, like that of a woman in love, and she was glowing magnificently.

Their outstanding performance soon came to an end, and the two soulmates looked into each other's eyes so deeply and full of love. He wore a confident smile on his face. Nobunaga waved his hand at Ieyasu to play the melody for the only song he knew to be danced in pair - That of the valiant Prince going to war, and the Princess rushing after him, worried - She was struck down, and died in his arms, leaving him all alone, with his only comfort being the bloodshed of the battlefield.

It wasn't much unlike their own story, they often thought, as Nobunaga rose her up with ease, spinning around; Her flowy dress and sleeves danced around with herself, like a butterfly on a peony. Every move, every caress, every look their shared - They were all special.

Everyone applauded them - The dance of two soulmates fated to never be together - Then allowed them to settle at the feast, where they would converse more. Nobunaga was eccentric and talkative, yet his words were as wise and truthful as always. He earned easily everyone's respect - And poor Diavolo had to see the love of his life clinging onto his arm, her head on his shoulder - Will he ever earn her love? Or will she remain pining for this admirable Lord? 

They stood around the table having a merry time until morn, where the Sun was beginning to illuminate the sky; Once the stars started disappearing, so did the wisps. It seemed to Diavolo that Kitsune might have forgotten this bliss wasn't permanent - Though he would have loved nothing more than to see her as happy as this night... Even if he wasn't the cause of her joy.

"It was an honour meeting all of you. Be well." Mitsunari was the first to disappear.

"N'ahh, what a killjoy! Mitsunari has always been so boring - Always glues to that GO table of his... How lame!" Masamune groaned loudly, drunk out of his wits.

"At least he is not as dumb as a rock - Cyclops." Ieyasu next to her sighed dramatically.

"Exactly --" Kitsune turned to her Shogun friend - But he wasn't there anymore. Her heart began panicking fast-paced. "No... Not yet, no... Not again... Please... Do not go..."

"What a cutiepie!" Mitsuhide hummed, getting up and bending at the waist until he reached her eye-level. "You're too cute to mourn the dead for so long, Princess. Lighten up." he booped her nose and disappeared into smokes before the fox lady could reach out to him.

"No, guys, please -- Stop it!" she was then tugged by her tails; Masamune held a wide, boyish grin on his face, and he waved at her, fading away into nothingness. "Not again... Stop... STOP! STOP!" distress was evident on her face as her friends had died once again before her very eyes - And they will continue to die again, and again, and again, until she is no more. The pain of loneliness was harsh and sharp; A twisting stab right to the heart.

"Do not mourn us, Princess. We are content where we are. And we are looking after you - Always." Hideyoshi patted her hair, like an older brother comforting his sobbing little sister before leaving for war, never to return.

"This always happens." Nobunaga sighed solemnly. "Did I not tell you that, if you start crying like that again, I will stop coming to see you?" his comment made the fox lady shake, immediately clinging onto his kimono desperately.

"Please don't leave me. Not again." her soft pleas were in vain. "Take me with you."

"You never change, do you? Always a cute cry-baby." he let out a low exhale of amusement, raising her hand to wipe away her flowing tears. "When I died, I told you to find a reason to live - And keep on living. Shatter the heavens, reach Godhood and reign over the weak." he held her tightly into his chest, caressing her hair as she sobbed uncontrollably. "You are a woman worthy of being a Queen - So become a Queen." he continued. "Stop crying over a dead man, and move on. You have found a true man worthy of your affections." he placed a kiss on the crown of her head. "He is a good man. Trust him, the way you trusted me."

With one unexpected move, Nobunaga cupped her face and brought her into a deep, loving kiss. "You will always be the only woman I ever loved, Kitsune -- But you must forget me and move on." such a bold, truthful declaration of love shattered Diavolo's heart. Lord Oda Nobunaga was a respectable man in every sense of the word - He perfectly understood why Kitsune was so in love with him... Because he was equally in love with her. So in love, in fact, that he was willing to let her go, just to see her happy. What a man. 

Nobunaga slowly pried himself away from the girl's clutches, and walked towards the middle of the court - And he uttered a most eccentric phrase - A phrase that those who were stuck in the Sengoku no Kokoro game remembered well and vividly. 

 "WORSHIP ME! DIE FOR YOUR CRIME OF DEFYING THE HOUSE OF ONE HUNDRED DEMONS, AND REPENT IN THE AFTERLIFE! THERE ARE NONE BEFORE ME, AND WILL BE NONE AFTER ME! I AM THE DEMON KING OF THE SIXTH HEAVEN, ODA NOBUNAGA!" 

Kitsune ran as fast as she could, throwing herself at him - That smile, that expression, that face - Forever engraved into her retina - And she passed right through his smokes, tumbling to the ground, her hands grasping into the air to catch the fumes, yet holding nothing in the end. Every year... Just smoke and mirrors.

With a desperate, raw cry into the skies, Kitsune bolted out of the shrine grounds, and into the forests, away from anyone that could find her.  To think that such a bittersweet night could end so tragically... None of the guests expected the degree of misery they experienced. Not to this degree, at least. Luke, especially, was the most confused and upset - Kitsune was so happy with that man, then he disappeared and she was so sad - He hated seeing Kitsune upset. She was very nice to him - Luke hoped she would never have to cry of sadness ever again...

But Simeon knew best, the torment of Kitsune's heart. The chaos and agony that she's been feeling for so many centuries... He could feel it all, a heavy pain that appears into his chest whenever she is around him - Thus is the extent of her sorrow.  Of course, Solomon lived for many centuries also, and he could relate well with her - The amount of people he loved that he had to watch wither away and die, while he remained young, beautiful and very much alive... It wasn't an easy existence, but he had to make the best out of what he got.

"Diavolo, I think we better wrap up for the day." Lucifer was the first to regain his senses, getting the Demon Prince's attention.

"Yes, of course." Diavolo got up from the table. "Lady Ayaka, thank you for your hospitality. It was a pleasure learning more about your customs. Humans are truly fascinating." Diavolo smiled at the new lady Kitsune put in charge. "Lucifer - Please bring everyone home." he needn't continue further; Everyone knew he was going to search for Kitsune.

"Lord Diavolo, please be patient with the Princess. She is... Very fragile - But she cares dearly for you." Ayaka implored the Lord, who merely smiled at her with reassurance.

"Don't worry - She is very dear to my heart also." thus, he took off into the mountains after her.

The mountains were wrapped in a veil of early morning mist, the air cold and crisp, yet filled with the scents of pine and earth. Diavolo trudged through the dense forest, his usually confident demeanor marred by an uncharacteristic tension. He had spent hours searching for Kitsune, guided only by the faint traces of her spiritual energy that lingered like whispers in the wind. He hadn't expected the forest to be a labyrinthine maze, trying hard to trap him, never to see the light of day again. Each step he took was heavy with the weight of fear—fear that he would be too late, that she would slip through his fingers like sand.

The landscape around him was both beautiful and foreboding, ancient trees towering above, their branches reaching out like the hands of forgotten gods. The path was treacherous, winding and narrow, yet Diavolo pressed on, driven by a desperation that gnawed at his very soul.

Finally, he found her.

Kitsune stood on the edge of a cliff, her figure a silhouette against the pale dawn light. The soft rustling of her kimono was the only sound in the stillness of the mountain, save for the distant call of a lone bird. She gazed out at the horizon, her back to him, seemingly lost in her own world—a world of memories, of love lost and love found, of pain and solace.

Diavolo approached her cautiously, his heart pounding in his chest. As he drew closer, the weight of her sorrow became palpable, an invisible force that pressed down on him, threatening to suffocate him. He hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to say, how to comfort someone who had endured so much.

“Kitsune.” he finally called out, his voice gentle as always, as if to not scare a baby fawn.

She didn’t turn around immediately, but he saw the subtle stiffening of her shoulders, the way her hands clenched into fists at her sides. Slowly, she turned to face him, her eyes red and swollen from tears she had shed in solitude.

“Dia…” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Without another word, he closed the distance between them, his arms instinctively reaching out to her. Kitsune hesitated only for a second before she collapsed into his warm embrace, her body trembling as she buried her face in his broad chest. Diavolo held her tightly, one hand gently stroking her hair, the other wrapped protectively around her waist.

For a long time, they stayed like that, the silence between them filled with unspoken words, with shared pain and love. Diavolo could feel her heartache, her struggle to reconcile her love for him with the loss she still felt for Nobunaga. Kitsune loved deeply - And he was privileged to be on the receiving end of that also.

“You don’t have to carry this burden alone.” Diavolo murmured into her hair, his voice soothing. “I’m here for you, Kitsune. I always will be.”

Kitsune pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him. Her eyes were filled with tears, but there was a determination in them that took Diavolo by surprise. “Dia...” she began, her voice overflowing with emotion. “I… I’ve tried to move on, to let go of the past, but Nobunaga… He was... He was my everything... I can’t just forget him.”

Diavolo’s heart ached at her words, but he nodded, understanding. He knew, if he was in her position, he would have felt the same for a man as special as Nobunaga. “I know, my darling. I know.” he replied softly. “And I would never ask you to. Nobunaga will always have a special place in your heart." he reassured her he was sympathising with her - Diavolo had always been so patient and understanding of her, Kitsune often felt she was overstepping his love for her. "As long as you keep a special place for me also." 

Kitsune’s eyes widened, and for a moment, she looked as if she might break down again. Instead, she reached up, cupping his face in her hands. “Dia… I love you.” she confessed, her voice trembling. “I love you so much." she confessed dearly. "But it hurts… it hurts so much, because I still love him too... And I don't want to hurt you also with... This - This... Everything that I have become."

Diavolo felt his heart pounding against his chest; He couldn't see Kitsune so sad and conflicted, it physically hurt him. “Love isn’t something that diminishes, Kitsune.” he whispered, pressing his forehead against hers. “It’s something that grows. Your love for Nobunaga doesn’t take away from what we have. It only makes your love bigger, stronger.” he spoke sweetly to her. "You are one woman who cares so deeply for those she loves - And that love of yours can never dissipate, no matter how much you try. It is not a weakness, nor something you should run from. It is who you are, my love. It is what makes you - You."

Kitsune let out a shaky breath, her eyes searching his for any sign of doubt or hesitation, but all she found was love - A deep, unwavering love - Only for her. “I’m scared, Dia...” she admitted, her voice breaking. “Scared of losing you, of losing myself… Of everything.”

“You won’t lose me. Ever.” Diavolo vowed, his voice firm. “I’m not going anywhere, Kitsune." something in his words, in his tone, seemed to reach her. Kitsune closed her eyes and took a deep breath, as if drawing strength from his presence. Then, with a soft sob, she threw her arms around him, holding him as tightly as she could, as if afraid he might disappear if she let go.

"I don't want to die, Dia. I don't want to die." after so many months of her boldly admitting how she desired death above anything else - To just disappear from the face of the earth forever - She finally found her solace, her reason to live, her safe haven - Her soulmate. "I want to live forever, by your side. I don't wanna die - I want to be able to love you for the rest of my existence. I don't want to ever lose you, Dia. I love you so much - So much that I'd go crazy if I lost you too."

Diavolo held her just as tightly, his heart swelling with love and determination. He thawed away her icy shield, and allowed her to feel the sweet relief of love that he's been trying to offer for so long; The comfort and warmth of his warm embrace. 

As the first rays of sunlight broke through the clouds, casting a warm glow over the mountains, Diavolo whispered one last promise into Kitsune’s ear.

"I want to marry you, Kitsune."

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[darkdevasofdestruction]

Chapter 13 - Happily Ever After

(I found this amazing fan art by @Lazarustrashpit - It was on google, but I think the link goes to this site called ArtStation. Give them a look and support their amazing work!)

Once again, the House of Lamentation returned to its usual peace - Which meant that all demons were back to their shenanigans and giving Lucifer a ton of trouble, whilst Kitsune sat back and enjoyed the circus. Since the incident with the Book of Souls, things have settled back to normal - No more weirdness, no more magic, no more troublesome adventures.

Much to the bitterness of the Lord of Corruption, the vixen had made pacts with 5 out of 7 brothers - Not that she forced them or anything; It pissed him off how she didn't even care about the privilege she had bestowed upon her - The power she was possessing. In fact, truly, she couldn't care less.

The Avatar of Pride was concerned about one thing, however, and that was... Kitsune somehow seducing the Prince of Hell into forging a pact. Diavolo had never, not even once, made a pact with anyone - Thus was the pride of the future King of Devildom; Though with how cunning she was, he wouldn't put it past her to find a way to trick Diavolo into making a pact. It was maddening, having to think about the consequences of that occurrence - If Kitsune were to use the powers of the Demon Lords and the Demon Prince, together with her own, against Hell... It was bad.

Prince Diavolo truly only wished for the best for Kitsune, his precious little fox, the one being to manage to get under his skin and make him fall in love with her; He tried his hardest, his utmost, to forge a makeshift sense of joy for her, a sense of safety and bliss that she'd never experienced before... Alas, not even he could control the cruel hands of fate, nor the days a mortal lived - Though technically he could go into the Reaper's cave and pour his candle over Kitsune's to ensure she lives more... The thought... The simple image of going there and seeing her candle being almost fully melted... Only the faintest, smallest wick visible amidst the liquid wax... It terrified him. Truly, it did.

What was more, her birthday was approaching rapidly; She had less than a whole month to stay alive... And between the current day, and her own undoing, were Christmas, the Wedding Day festival day, New Year's... And that's it. Nothing more, nothing else. Three whole weeks of staying alive, and he is miserably failing at offering her the comfort and affection she needs so desperately - In fact, Diavolo was terrified at the prospect of Kitsune giving up on herself once again - Definitely, this time.

He was supposed to focus on his paperwork - Barbatos was going to scold and nag him so much if he finds out - He was unfortunately slacking off - And was going to continue this perpetual string of work ineffectiveness for the exact same reason... Kitsune had entered his study room, and her expression was perfectly blank, like a white canvas ripped apart.

"Hello, Little Prince. Hope I am not disturbing your work too much." even her tone was impassive and distant. Soulless. "I need to return to the shrine." her hands were buried deep in the opposite sleeve, though Diavolo could see she was clutching her phone tightly. "Now."

"Kitsune - Of course! I did promise you could return at any time." the man got up from his desk, stepping in front of her. He felt an ice barrier separating them so cruelly. "Kitsune, please be honest with me - Did something happen?" she remained silent. "Let me be there for you. Please."

The vixen sighed, looking away; She was struggling, fighting herself to open her mouth and speak her woes. It came so unnaturally and painfully hard for her to communicate freely when it came to her feelings in disarray. "I... Have to prepare for a funeral ceremony."

Diavolo nodded his head in understand. "Yes, of course, of course." he said, his voice warm and compassionate. "Is it Lord Nobunaga's death anniversary?" he watched the lady visible cringe, but ultimately, she shook her head negatively.

"Aiko is very sick. She asked to see me." the old lady who held enough vitality in her to scold Kitsune, and even dance together... She was the one dying? Her special best friend whom she raised since she was a young lady? How painful it must be for Kitsune, Diavolo thought to himself - Raising your children, only to end up burying them. Thus is the cruelty of life, the woes of an immortal stuck in a mortal world - Fated to watch all the flowers she took care of so lovingly, wilt in her on hands.

"Kitsune..." he tried to reach out to her, to hug her, to comfort her - But she merely stepped away, turning he back at him. Diavolo could perfectly well see Lucifer - No wonder he had evident distaste for her - They were so alike in many ways... Including this desperate need to run away from the people who care for them... To veil themselves with an apathetic facade of pure void -- Even though, Diavolo knew best, he had not once met living beings who feel so deeply and care infinitely, quite la Lucifer and Kitsune do. It was heartbreaking, seeing them suffer so much, yet refuse any bit of comfort. "May I accompany you?"

She remained silent for a few seconds, her long nails digging into her flesh, leaving faint pink lines. "Do as you wish, Little Prince." Diavolo had to fight back a saddened sigh - He knew it was as much of a 'yes' as she was willing to speak, but it still felt miserable. Old habits die hard... That idiom was painfully true.

Diavolo quickly texted his butler to briefly inform him of his absence, and that he, in turn, must notify Lucifer to take over his affairs for him; And with a simple flick of his hand, a circular portal opened - Magnetic blue, akin to whips of energy and magma swimming into the dark abyss of nothingness. He held her hand firmly as he guided her to step forward - And they were in the shrine's perfectly kept courtyard.

The young priestesses all flocked around the Guuji, some weeping, some grieving, as they clinged onto the stoic fox lady. "Take it easy." she placed her hand on their head, patting them like a father comforting his children. "Please prepare the flower bed." they had wide, confused eyes goggling at their leader. "Did you think I would have any of my precious girls be sent away on a hard bed of wood?" if they weren't weeping before they were now; The love Kitsune held for all of them, new or old, was not one described through words, but was felt by all around. "Prepare the ritual - And a small feast for us." the girls scattered to do their jobs.

It was a miracle that Kitsune hadn't broken down yet, Diavolo thought to himself, feeling his own heart hurting so bad at the misery he was witnessing. Every step Kitsune took towards the temple where Aiko would be resting felt like the description of the Little Mermaid walking with her human feet for the first time - Glass shards were digging into her soles, each step more agonising than the other - Until they reached the bedroom. Aiko would have looked terrible, were it not for her neatly applied make up, the flawless hairstyle, and the beautiful clothes she was wearing - Kitsune had previously made sure she would be sent away wearing one of her precious kimono. She did that every time one of her girls perished. Kitsune herself wished to be burnt wearing the outfit she was supposed to wear at her and Nobunaga's wedding... Alas, she would never become a bride.

"Princess... You shouldn't be here." Aiko lethargically fluttered her tired eyes open, gazing at Kitsune's emotionless face with a smile. "You shouldn't remember me like this."

"Shut up, troublemaker. I am the Guuji - I deem what is right and wrong in this place." she couldn't even fake authority, Aiko realised with amusement. "It is a mother's duty to see her child ascend to higher planes of existence." she declared. "And a sister's duty to stay by her kin's side."

"A mother should never have to bury her own child, Princess." that comment came as a harsh blow to her diaphragm, Diavolo noticed, as Kitsune let out a pained exhale, shifting her gaze away from her friend. "Those naughty girls - I had told them not to tell you I was fading." she sighed, though her smile was ever present. "As stubborn as you - You are the one who spoiled us rotten and indulged in our every whim." the immortal's body was trembling softly. "I couldn't bare seeing you cry over little old me - Not when I knew I was going to be reunited with the love of my life."

"I know." Kitsune nodded her head. "You will be happy again, sister. Kenzo will take good care of you. He is a good man - Worthy of you." her hand gently caressed her friend's cheek, wiping away a stray tear. "You must have missed him so... All these years, soulmates so cruelly ripped apart from each other... Pitiful child."

"You would know all about that, Princess." the two shared a breathless chuckle of shared pain.

"Quiet, brat." the vixen grumbled under her breath.

"Princess - You once promised to fulfill one last wish for all of us." Kitsune nodded. "And every time, you granted our wishes." she nodded again. "I want to abuse my privilege of being your favourite - And request for two wishes to be granted instead."

"You cheeky little flower." the Guuji shook her head at her attitude. "You have always been such a playful little minx. But fine - Go ahead, ask me whatever you want."

"You could never resist us." Aiko chuckled, earning a playful groan from the fox lady. "Kitsune - Your heart is bleeding - It has been bleeding for five centuries. Please, allow it to be mended and healed, for once." with difficulty, Aiko raised his hand up to hold Lord Diavolo's; Her hand was so small and delicate compared to his large one. "You were meant for a King, sister - Please, for my sake, don't lose him too." of course one of her wishes would be addressed to her kindred soul-sister's well-being.

Though Kitsune couldn't properly express how words, Diavolo could. "Don't worry, Lady Aiko, I will take good care of Kitsune." he leaned down to whisper in her ear. "I love her." though Aiko laughed weakly, Kitsune looked away and blushed. How embarrassing - Aiko always did like to tease her sisters so much.

"Yes, I know, little Lordling. I know." she coughed. "Princess - As per my last request - Once you carry me out there, close your eyes, and remember me for the young girl I was when you took me in, young and beautiful and filled with energy and emotions - And when the image is vividly appearing in your head - Use your gracious fire to send me into my husband's arms again."

Kitsune's face blanched like she was a yuurei herself, and she gulped. Speech was entirely forgotten, and her breathing halted. She couldn't imagine using her own flames to cremate a dear one - How could she? The very flames that symbolised her very being were the subject of her nightmares, since the very time when Nobunaga's body was burnt away in the temple, when she was forced to flee and leave the love of her life forever. What a painful request.

"Sister - You were created from fire - Embrace the flames of your existence, the very fuel of your vitality - Embrace who you are." Aiko knew, with each word she was uttering, the Princess become even more terrified - Of herself, of all things. It was pitiful how fearful she was of living - A whole millenia filled with nothing but tragedy, misery, sorrow and fear - An existence truly worth writing a poem over. "Shatter the heavens, become the Tenko you were meant to be - And live."

Diavolo couldn't help but shudder at her words, sounding so frail, yet holding such tremendous power; Aiko and Kitsune both had hoped to die at the same time, as true sisters - But Aiko is mortal, and Kitsune needn't be. Kitsune was strong enough to bring down the Heavens and kill Gods - Kitsune was backed down by 5 contracts made with the strongest Demon Lords - And of course, the Prince was going to be by her side for as long as she wishes him.

"You incorrigible, cunning, atrocious little minx." Kitsune let out a bratty huff - From wanting to die, to being forced to straighten her path, kill a God and actually enjoy living? That was a huge change from her original plans. "I will see what I can do." she cleared her throat. "Living is one thing - But to kill the Tenko? No one's ever done that before. I don't even know if that's possible."

"If anyone can, it is you, sister. Thank you for everything you've done for me - For us. All of us. You were the mother neither of us ever had." Aiko was slowly fading. She held both Kitsune's and Diavolo's hands, her grip weak, almost non-existent. "Please... Be happy."

With a smile on her face Aiko faded, and it was Kitsune's job to guide her spirit to rest with that of her husband's. 

Though she didn't have the strength to speak, she had the power to lift her in her arms and walk her last journey on the flower bed that served as her way into the realm of souls. With difficulty, Kitsune forced herself to speak the ritual words, waving her gohei wand into the sky - And in one graceful swish of her hand, Aiko's body was being engulfed by the red fan of flames. "May you find forever peace, my child." and thus, Aiko's spirit wisp ascended into the skies, forever to be reunited with that of her most beloved.

The young ones were weeping, but the fox lady's face remained stoic. "Ayaka, come here." a woman of about 40 years of age stepped forward. "From now on, you are the head of the shrine. It is a big responsibility, yes, but if Aiko could do it, so can you. You are ready."

"Thank you for placing your trust in me, Lady Kitsune." she bowed at the Princess, receiving the suzu bells that previously belonged to Aiko. "Everyone, get up and stop weeping. Lady Aiko is happy now - And we should celebrate her happiness. Prepare for the banquet." she held the same authority Aiko used to have, Diavolo noticed as the other mikos scuttered around to put the feast together.

Inside the temple, the long table was set, and all the priestesses were drinking and eating in the name of Lady Aiko and her passing - Kitsune remained outside, watching the flames shimmer down. Diavolo remained by her side through it all - He couldn't find any word proper enough to utter; Even in spite of his diplomacy skills, he remained speechless. He was an immortal living among immortals - Loss wasn't an issue he had to face often. Yes, his mother had died when he was nothing more than a little munchkin; Yes, his father has been slumbering for a long time, waiting for his own passing; Yes, he saw the despair and agony of Lucifer once he lost his beloved Lilith. Words could never sooth a broken heart.

Instead, he sat with her through the whole afternoon and evening, all the way until midnight; Kitsune would pour wine for the both of them, and whilst he didn't drink enough to get drunk, she would drink bottle after bottle to drown away her sorrows, to the point that her face was flushed and she ended up tearing up and giggling at the same time. She was leaning on his shoulder, looking up into the starry sky.

"Y'know..." after half a day, she finally spoke. Her voice was tender and mellow. "All the stars in the sky - They are the twinkling souls of those I have guided into the afterlife."

"The sky is filled with beautiful stars." she nodded in agreement. "They are all looking after you."

"I hope so." with one bold move, Kitsune moved Diavolo's arm aside, so she could lay over his lap leisurely. "I should do this more over."

"I would like that." with a small smile on his face, the Prince gingerly places one hand on her hip, and the other strokes the velvety locks kissed by fire; Her hair was sprawled everywhere, like a crimson river traversing the earth. "Dia?" he hummed, encouraging her to speak. "Thank you."

The Lord's heart skipped a few beats - The shock of being thanked for something as trivial as standing by her side... Oh, his feelings were being acknowledged! Whether it was her own willpower, or the need to adhere to Aiko's dying wish, it didn't matter for him - The fact that she still wanted him by her side proved to him that she hadn't given up yet - Not on herself, not on him and not on their relationship.

He didn't say anything; Instead, he wore the sweetest grin on his face as he continued to caress her hair, looking up at the sky and getting lost in the moment. As miserable as the day way, it had at least ended on a content word.

"Kitsune?" he called out softly, but didn't reply. "Darling?" she hadn't even sketched a reaction. He pulled back a few strands of hair draping over her face; She was sleeping peacefully, a serene smile on her face - She was gorgeous, truly gorgeous, so much so that his heart was melting at the mere sight of her. "Let's go home." carefully, Diavolo lifted the girl up in his arms - She was shifted enough to cuddle into his chest like a little kitten - And he stepped through the portal, right into his bedroom, where he placed her on the bed and placed the blanket over her.

He took his armchair and placed it by the bed, taking a book and getting comfortable by her side. He loved seeing her like this, so comfortably laying in his bed; The silks suited her so well... Perhaps, very soon, he should suggest her moving permanently into his own bedroom - With the possibility to spend whenever in the House of Lamentation, of course - He wouldn't want to take away her autonomy.

"I never lost any friend - I can't imagine what you go through, every time one of your girls die." he spoke in a gentle voice, making sure he wasn't waking her up. "I was very little when my mum died. I don't have many memories with her... But she was very sweet with me. Just like you are with them." he continued speaking. "My father was all royal-business... And I understand why. The Devildom was in complete chaos, and he needed to rule it with an iron fist... But in his reign, he forgot his own heart, and he became a cold and dissolute shell of his former self - A self that I never truly had the opportunity to meet, unfortunately. I never got to meet or understand the man my mother fell in love with." why was he telling her all this, especially knowing she won't even hear? Was it because he wanted to gather courage to tell her all this, in person, when she was properly awake? Confess to her the thrills and trembles of his own heart, from the unknown depths that had not been uncovered even by himself? "My mum, I remember, was hopelessly romantic. She used to tell me that... Duty is important, yes, but to never forget my heart. To live, and love from the bottom of my heart. To enjoy my beautiful life - And if it doesn't feel beautiful, to make it so." he looked down at the beauty, and he reached down to place a kiss on her cheek. "She would be very happy to know I have fallen in love with such a beautiful lady."

He leaned back on his armchair, and began reading a book - It was a book from the human world; Solomon introduced him to the world of modern Disney princess stories, and he enjoyed it very much. He had seen the movies, and now, he was reading the picture books filled with lovely drawings depicting the romance between a princess and the prince saving her from distress. Diavolo loved these stories so much, yet he couldn't help but wonder if he would ever be able to save his own damsel in distress from the evil villain. Be it Snow White, or Cinderella, the Sleeping Beauty, or Beauty and the Beast -- All stories ended with the Prince holding his Princess in his arms, kissing her, and living their Happily Ever After.

Diavolo yearned dearly for his Happily Ever After with Kitsune.

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[darkdevasofdestruction]

Behind The Veil - Oda Nobunaga (Ikemen Sengoku) ~ On Going

Summary:

A young woman, silent, yet extremely observant, finds herself in the middle of a carnage, along with her boyfriend, and ends up rescuing one of the most famous warlords in the History of Japan. They stare at each other, frowning at how weirdly they are dressed, but a single question makes the sky fall, and it shatters the reality and all the laws of physics and ration known to human-kind. Time-traveling exists.

Chapter 1 - A Demure Smile Chapter 2 - Unwritten Laws Chapter 3 - Tug of War Chapter 4 - Sutures Chapter 5 - Wabbit Season Chapter 6 - The Onsen Murder Chapter 7 - The Tiger's Invitation Chapter 8 - Starlight Sky Chapter 9 - Protecting You Chapter 10 - Smallpox Chapter 11 - Out Of Touch Chapter 12 - Poison Kiss