darklydeliciousdesires - Tumblr blog

darklydeliciousdesires · 9 hours ago

Text

Sanctuary - Chapter Two.

Guys, when I tell you I was elated at your response to this story! Thank you so much to everyone who read and offered such kind feedback. ILY <3

Summary - It was a crime that shook the metal community and beyond to its core, the Solna Satanic murder case blowing apart the lives of many. With Lucas and Nils - frontman and drummer of popular metal band The Hanged - trialed, found guilty and subsequently sentenced, few were inclined to believe either deserved any offerings of a second chance. Lucas, in particular, did not consider himself worthy until salvation came in the form of a letter.

Words - 3,271

Previous Chapters - One

Warnings - 18+ content, mentions of violence. Of course, it'll be smutty too, eventually! Minors DNI!

That voice. She’d once heard someone liken Lucas’s voice to a ripsaw shredding through a led pipe, that guttural, gravelled roar sending an illicit shiver down her spine every time she heard it. Listening to Warfare, the highly acclaimed debut album by The Hanged, Erika still couldn’t quite believe that he was just fourteen and fifteen years old when he wrote it, sixteen when he’d recorded it and seventeen when he’d toured with it.

They’d been babies, still, just kids up there on the stage. She remembered well from going to see them live, just a kid herself of thirteen at the time after pleading with her parents to allow her to attend the gig. There he’d been up on stage, this tall, fresh-faced boy, but with a roar like something hell had spat out for being too hostile.

Oh, how she’d wanted to try and get backstage to meet them, but couldn’t on account of her father looming like an albatross, Lasse parked up in his Land Rover to the side of the venue, waiting to take her and her friend's home. Now here she was seventeen years later, driving out to Södertälje in order to meet the man himself for the first time.

To say she was nervous was an understatement.

It was a typically cold February morning, yet to prevent her anxious sweats, Erika had the air conditioning on full pelt, her coat slung into the back seat of her car. She was tired, finishing late at work the previous evening, going home to sit at her laptop, eating her favourite girl dinner of various cheeses and sliced meats while indulging herself in a little time with Lucas.

What that meant to her was watching old interviews with him and parts of the DVD from their last tour prior to his and Nils’s incarceration. God, he’d been so funny, such a live wire of a guy. One of her favourites was a scene she found herself backtracking a few times, him and their lead guitarist Alex meeting a female fan backstage who’d been quite overcome in their presence.

“Oh, I think I’m going to faint! Hi!”

“Breeze!” Lucas had shouted, looking around. “The woman needs breeze!” He’d then looked to Alex. “Pass me that. Here, I got you. Breeze via Terroriser magazine, there you go, we’ve got a draft going now!” he’d chirped, fanning the by then giggling woman with a rapid flourish of the publication in his hands. “You good now? Don’t faint on me, girl!”

She’d told him how much the entire thing had made her cry laugh in a letter, Lucas revealing in his reply that he remembered that night well. Perhaps, though, his penned recollection wasn’t quite so humorous. To him, at least.

So yeah, I ended up taking her to the tour bus and having sex with her. It was going great, until she suddenly got a wave of drunken nausea and threw up all over my chest while she was riding me. Thank fuck the venue had a shower, but shit, my bunk wasn’t salvageable at all! Had to sleep in the seats at the front until our management could get some mobile valet guys to come and deep clean it!!

The second part of the video offerings that never failed to have her in fits was the scene cut from an interview, again of Lucas and Alex – a renowned double act if ever there was one – speaking to a journalist in Düsseldorf.

“I like it here in Germany,” the latter had spoken enthusiastically, “you have great beer and even better women!” A small rumble of laughter had sounded from various people in the space, Alex continuing. “Not that any of them want my wiry ass, they all go for this motherfucking pretty boy right here!”

The camera had then panned over to Lucas, who’d puckered his lips and pulled up his t shirt with a lascivious smirk. “Look at him! If he wore enough lipstick, I’d probably fuck him, too!” Alex had then exclaimed, everyone in hysterics as he’d grabbed Lucas’s head and promptly licked his cheek.

“Give me enough of this good German beer, and man, I might let you.” He’d chimed, both of them in utter fits of booming laughter.

Erika had sighed hard then, thinking that perhaps if he’d remained as close to Alex as he’d been at that point, he might have escaped the dark path he and Nils were fated to tread upon. How different things might have been for him, had he not fell headlong into Nils's ominous orbit.

Alex was a good guy, she could tell that just from watching him on video, and of course from Lucas’s stories. Nils, she tended to agree with others over. There was something inherently dark about the man, but she could only hope that as Alex had revealed while visiting Lucas, the seeds of change had been firmly planted within the once deeply disturbed young man.

Putting the thoughts of her viewing a time gone by to rest, she focused on the drive, moving from the highway to the narrower roads leading up to Anstalten prison. It was mind boggling to her, that she was just over half an hour away from meeting Lucas for the very first time, her heart beginning to race rapidly in her chest.

Pulling up in the seemingly endless concrete of the car park, she cut the engine and climbed out, taking a few deep breaths before walking over to the visitor's entrance of the prison.

“Oh my fuck, oh my fuck I’m actually here!” she whispered, reaching the door and being granted entrance after buzzing in. Upon her arrival inside, she had to check in with the warden on the desk, show her ID and stand aside, ready to be searched before being allowed further into the facility.

Standing with her legs and arms spread, she was patted down, a second warden thoroughly examining the contents of her bag. It was a thorough search, her boots removed to check within, Erika also having to open her mouth wide and show beneath her tongue, too, her hair lifted and searched through as well.

God, the numerous ways contraband could be smuggled in. She’d never even think to hide something in her hair, should she had been that way inclined.

“Buttons.”

She gaped a little at the warden’s statement. “Excuse me?”

Nodding downwards, he didn’t miss a beat. “Your buttons. You’re about to walk into a room full of sex-starved inmates. Do them up.”

Oh. Immediately, her cheeks flushed, hands moving quickly to fasten the buttons of her dress. She felt naive and out of place, having a few other visitors titter with laughter at her expense. The shame of it. There wasn’t much time for that shame to manifest itself further, though, she and the rest of the visitors called for, all filing through the heavily reinforced doors of the prison and into a long, white painted corridor.

It looked very sterile within, and it was much quieter than she had been expecting, the warden gesturing to the wide double doors that lead to the visiting room. Her heart began to jackrabbit strongly then, walking in and immediately glancing around the room for him.

Lucas was distinct enough to spot, being close to two metres tall, heavily tattooed and with a mane of waist length, dark blonde hair. With every man whose visage she scanned, though, she failed to match them to the mental picture of him.

He would have changed, of course, being that he was just twenty-two when he was incarcerated and almost thirty-four now, but still, where on earth was he? Had she gotten the wrong day? No, she couldn’t have. They’d have told her when she checked in. Panic rapidly began to set in before suddenly...

“Erika.”

Stopping in her tracks, she turned to her right to see the form of a huge, shaven headed man with a neat, dark blonde beard rise to his feet. Good fucking lord. That was Lucas?

Looking at him and trying hard not to begin salivating, she wagered he’d likely spent most of his sentence sequestered in the prison gym. To say he was stacked would be an understatement; the formerly rail thin young man had gained about thirty kilograms in thick, hulking muscle.

“Hiya! Shit, I um, I didn’t... shit, you look different!” she floundered, his wide smile and rumbling chuckle somewhat setting her at ease, but doing little to slow down the accelerated thundering of her heart. He’d been stunningly handsome in his early twenties, but now? God alive. “Can I give you a hug? Am I allowed to?”

He nodded, opening his arms. “You are. Only a little one, though.”

Did little hugs truly exist with that much man?!

Before she could feel her insides whittle themselves away into further nervous chaos, she was embraced, those two powerful arms wrapping her in a hug. As a tall girl, she rarely felt small, but there in Lucas’s strong, yet gentle embrace she felt truly tiny. To touch him, smell him, oh. It felt better than she was expecting.

“How fucking dare you come here looking so hot, and I can’t even give you more than this.” His lips met her cheek in a briefly pressed kiss, Erika feeling herself spark. “Seriously, you’re even more of a knockout than your pictures showed. Why the hell are you here to see me?”

He put her at ease instantly with his charming humour, yet she still found herself the victim to her own nervous floundering. Placing her bag down on the chair, she then sat on it, shooting back up to move it, making him snort with laughter.

“Don’t be so nervous, I might be a fucking murderer but I’m not that scary anymore.”

Oh, but it wasn’t because of that.

“I’m not, it isn’t that,” she began, winding her hands around before lacing her fingers together to stop herself. God, she’d turned into Nina! “It’s just... meeting you for the first time. I know you’re my friend and I feel like I know you...”

“Right, and you do know me, so calm down,” he kindly interjected with.

“But you’re still one of my favourite musicians, and I confess, I had a bit of a fangirl moment!”

From the way she was looking at him, he knew that wasn’t strictly all it was, but he was too nice to mention it. Besides, he had his own reaction to seeing her in the flesh for the first time to placate. He would be taking one hell of a cold shower, come the end of the visit. Wow.

He could tell that her nerves were still jumping within, wishing he could reach for her hand in an effort to steady them. It might have the opposite effect, for both of them, though. Instead, he chose to steady her through his words.

“Tell me about the tattoo convention, then. How’d it all go?” Engaging her in something she knew she exuded confidence over would surely do the trick, and it did, Lucas watching as her shoulders loosened a little.

“It was so good!” she enthused, her eyes lighting up. “I felt like my hand was going to fall off after three full days of tattooing back-to-back. My feet hurt like hell with all the walking around and networking in the time between that, but it was great!” It was so surreal to her, Lucas Borgström in the flesh, sitting right across from her. Asking about her life!

His smile widened, and she felt like sunshine was gilding her tummy. Oh, the man was knockout handsome. “I’m pleased for you! Did you get any good contacts? I know you told me in your last letter you wanted to maybe travel, so a few guest spots here and there?” he asked. “Oh, and how’s Nina’s foot now? She okay?”

That touched her, that he’d remembered her mentioning Nina and her broken foot fiasco. “She’s in less pain, but pissed off about the big boot she has to wear. And yeah, I did. I managed to organise a three-week spot in Essex in the U.K two months from now, with an artist named Jason Butcher, who I love.”

Ahhh, the common ground they had there, Lucas rolling up his t shirt sleeve and pointing to the large tattoo beneath. “Jason did my Odin for me, managed to get in with him towards the end of our first U.K tour. I wish he’d done a whole lot more, because look at all of this embarrassing crap I have on me.” He began to shake his head, pointing at various etchings on his two full sleeves. “Like that, and that! Oh, fuck, you have to cover that for me eventually, please!”

What he pointed to was the large, black, inverted pentagram on his inner elbow, a sigil she knew well he no longer aligned himself with. While he had no issue with the branch of Satanism he’d once favoured, after what had happened, it was something he wanted to leave behind in its entirety. He was happy to commit to agnosticism nowadays.

She couldn’t and wouldn’t blame him at all for such a stance. “Yeah, yeah I can cover that, no issue. Maybe completely black it out and then once healed, I can go over it with something in white ink?”

He clicked his fingers, pointing at her. “That, yeah! Let’s do that, I trust you, just draw me something you think I’d like. You have roughly four months, so get on it.” He winked then, Erika’s eyes widening. “Remember how I said there was talk of me getting out earlier? They’re putting me up for early release come June, since I will have served two thirds of my original sentence. Apparently, I’ve been a model inmate, so fingers crossed I might be a free man come summer.”

Clapping her hands together with joy, all she wanted in that moment was to reach across the table and hug him again. With the ever-watchful eye of the prison wardens, though, and only minimal physical contact allowed, she lamentably had to rein it in. “Lucas! This is huge, I’m so fucking happy for you!”

He nodded, smiling, yet the smile didn’t reach his eyes fully. “Yeah, yeah I am, too. I just... fuck. Do I even deserve it? Twelve years doesn’t feel like enough time for taking a life, y’know?”

She sighed, cocking her head. “Look how much you’ve changed in the time between,” she began, the light earnestness in her voice making his heart flutter for a moment. To be seen as anything but a murdering monster was something he’d worked very, very hard to accomplish.

The fact that the woman he knew he was developing truly real feelings for saw it honestly elated him. Erika really was just as sweet as she’d seemed in her letters and on the telephone. “You did something horrific a very long time ago, but the man sitting in front of me now, he isn’t that guy, and he doesn’t want to be that guy ever again. I see that, I really do, and I think anyone truly important to you will see it, too.”

He shrugged, the cold, spiny prickle of guilt coiling through him. “Pieter’s family will think very much otherwise. I wouldn’t blame them for a second either, regardless of what his dear father eventually said about us.”

Indeed, the courage and grace of Anders Arneson had been surprising, when five years previously he had stated in an interview that in order to move on from the pain of losing his son, he forgave Pieter’s murderers. “They were still kids themselves, not much older than my son. Just like my Pieter, so wrapped up in the drug culture as well, and in this extreme darkness. I believe they lost their way, as youngsters often do. For that, I forgive them.”

Lucas had confided in her that he’d cried, after reading those words, not convinced at all he deserved to ever be forgiven for his part in it at all.

“Listen,” she began softly, looking around for warden eyes before reaching to gently and quickly cup his cheek. It was an action that acted like an immediate balm to him, her words even more so. “If Anders Arneson can forgive you, and legions of your fans still stand behind you, then trust me, you deserve forgiveness. You’ve atoned, you’ve taken full responsibility, and you’ve lost twelve years of your life paying that debt. You deserve your freedom.”

He smiled, winking. “Having you especially tell me that means so much, really. Your letters and phone calls have kept me going. I don’t think you truly realise how important to me you’ve become, Erika. You see past the monster I used to be.”

He appreciated her words more than she could ever realise, feeling the warmth and tenderness that he’d ached for, but had eluded him for so long. The world outside the prison walls seemed less daunting with Erika there to receive him as a free man, a beacon of hope in his otherwise darkened existence.

She saw the good in him, the potential for redemption that he struggled to believe himself worthy of. As they sat together in the harshly lit visitation room, the future seemed less like a distant dream and more like an attainable reality.

Her unwavering support and belief in his transformation filled the void that guilt and regret had carved into his soul. He could never thank her enough for that. Lamentably, though, the hour visit he had with her ticked by much too quickly, rising to his feet to give her another hug, one he struggled to part from.

“Thank you so much for coming to see me,” he spoke, wishing he could meld himself to her, leave the prison with her. Four months; it wasn’t long, but at the same time it felt like an eternity. “I’d say come back next week, but Alex is visiting. I should cancel it, really, tell him he’s been replaced by a really sweet, pretty girl I’d much rather be in the company of.”

She threw her head back, laughing softly. “I can visit the week after?”

His thumbs skimmed the sides of her waist as he reluctantly pulled from their hug, nodding. “I’ll look forward to it.” He then glanced around, noticing a few warden’s eyes roving over him. “Ahh, fuck it.” Leaning to her, he pressed his lips to hers, beaming in the aftermath.

“Lucas, dial it back.” one of them called. Erika was glad that he hadn’t, feeling her insides fizz.

“Worth it,” he spoke, winking. “See you in two weeks, beautiful.”

She walked out of that prison on a happy little cloud, although it did have somewhat of a grey lining to it. How she wished he was leaving it with her. With some inmates incarcerated in the prison system of their country, home release prior to their actual freedom was permitted, the prisoners allowed to return home for a few weekends in the run up to their release in order to integrate back into their lives.

With Lucas, he’d been told that such was not permissible. Sixteen weeks until his freedom, though? Truly, it was little time at all. After such a long period of growing close to him via letters and phone calls, she would gladly take that.

Whether her excitement would reach critical mass or not in the time between was entirely another story, though!

A/N - Did you like what you just read? If so, please reward your author with a little comment or a reblog. Your support would mean so much to me!

#original fiction #original story #original stories #original novel #metal music #metal guys #romance fiction

8 notes · View notes

darklydeliciousdesires · 1 day ago

Text

people who write fics. how do you feel about comments on super old ones you wrote like 2+ years ago

31K notes · View notes

darklydeliciousdesires · 2 days ago

Text

Oh if this is NOT THE DAMNED TRUTH AND NOTHING BUT IT!!

writing is hard but coming up with a cunty title and catchy summary will slay even god's strongest soldier

15K notes · View notes

darklydeliciousdesires · 2 days ago

Text

#I understand this #hypermobile ehlers danlos #chronic illness #invisible illness #pain conditions

32 notes · View notes

darklydeliciousdesires · 2 days ago

Text

Eeee! So nice to see you pop up again, love! Really happy that you're here for the story, thank you so much for taking the time to read and review what you've read so far. More to come soon!! :)

Sanctuary - An Original Story.

Well, here we are, guys. A brand new original. I know that so many of you aren't here for this, but maybe give me a chance? I've tagged a couple of people who have been on board with my previous originals, too. No pressure if you're not feeling it, and if you do want to be tagged, please let me know.

Words - 5,453

Warnings - 18+ content, mentions of violence. Of course, it'll be smutty too, eventually! Minors DNI!

In the world of rock and metal music, numerous artists distinguish themselves from their peers. This distinction is often due to their exceptional talent; however, in certain cases, it arises from actions that are considerably less commendable.

Jim Gordon, 70’s rock musician and one-time drummer for Alice Cooper, murdered his own mother in schizophrenic meltdown. Varg Vikernes, sole member of Burzum and former member of Mayhem, murdered founder and former friend Øystein Aarseth in cold blood, to name but two infamous slayings.

In 2013, the alternative music world was rocked once again by a horrific case that shook residents of Stockholm and beyond to their core, the brutal murder of a nineteen-year-old man committed by two of its most prolific young musicians.

“In the criminal case that rocked the municipality of Solna, the accused men at the forefront of the Solna Satanic murder were sentenced earlier today. Lucas Borgström, twenty-two and co-defendant Nils Ekenberg, twenty-four, were each handed eighteen years for the brutal slaying of nineteen-year-old Pieter Arneson. The men, known for their unrepentant devotion to their Satanic beliefs as well as their roles in popular heavy metal band The Hanged, showed little emotion as sentencing was passed.

The case, which has drawn intense scrutiny and public outrage, highlighted the dark undercurrents in the seemingly tranquil suburb. Families of the victim and the accused were present, their faces etched with a mix of relief, sorrow, and disbelief as the verdict was read. Outside the courthouse, a crowd had gathered, some holding candles in a vigil for Pieter Arneson, while others protested the sentence, claiming it was too lenient.

The trial will undoubtedly be remembered as a chilling chapter in the Solna's history.”

In the aftermath of the news coverage, the trial over and all involved ready to begin picking up the pieces, the internet community at large continued to voice opinion over the case.

“Eighteen years??? For what they did, that’s fucked up!”

“Apparently, eighteen years is all the prosecution were seeking, given that they couldn’t prove Lucas and Nils had premeditated the murder. Especially since the defence weighed so heavily on the fact that both of them were high as fuck on various drugs when they stabbed him to death.”

“Oh, come on! Doesn’t matter how fucking high they were. Listen to their music, man. There are multiple references to human sacrifice. It was only a matter of time. They’re rotten, evil fucking scumbags. RIP Pieter.”

“The news report saying they showed little emotion is a flat-out lie. I was there. Nils laughed, and Lucas smirked and threw up the horns, muttering ‘hail, my dark lord’ as he was taken away. They should be getting life. Neither are sorry for what they did to that poor guy.”

“I used to know them really well way back in the day. Nils has always been somewhat dark underneath seeming like a good dude (sociopath?) but Lucas? I think Nils pulled him into it further, into the Satanism and the drugs. He was a nice guy, seriously. Yeah, he could be loud and chaotic, loved to party and have a good time, but half the shit about him out there is untrue.”

“His ex-girlfriend who claimed he tried to stab her? Untrue. She was bitter because he left her for my friend Brigitte, and that’s the goddamned truth from Brigitte herself. She was just out for cash when she sold that story to the press!

People saying he tortured animals, too? No fucking way. As soon as he ever arrived at my house, he’d crack open a beer and head straight for my pet rat’s cage, get them out and let them climb all over him and nest in his hair. He always loved animals. There was something really gentle about him in that way. He was such a good, nice guy. I hate what he ultimately became, though, because it isn’t him.”

“Gentle?! Dude, fuck off. The man carved a fucking inverted pentagram into Pieter’s corpse and then painted his own body in Satanic sigils before threatening to murder everyone else at that house party. The guy is a fucking psycho. That’s who he is. It took four cops to bring him down after he and Nils left the house, running after that poor girl who escaped and called the police, trying to kill her, too. He fucking bit one of the officer’s ears off before they tazed the shit out of the douchebag.”

Indeed, not many people could see past the horrific crimes of Lucas Borgström, regardless of opinions to the contrary. To many, he was nothing more than a cold-blooded murderer. A hardened drug addict hellbent on a path that ruined what was a very promising career, his band The Hanged once a huge name in the world of heavy metal.

Even the band's most loyal fans were left grappling with the dissonance between the image of the charismatic, gregarious frontman they adored and the monster he became. His descent into darkness was a cautionary tale that reverberated through the heavy metal community, a stark reminder of how drugs and a toxic influence could warp a person beyond recognition.

The trial and its aftermath left the band in shambles, their music equally tainted and exalted by the shadow of the drummer and frontman’s crimes. Friends and family who once cherished them were forced to reconcile with a gruesome reality, as debates raged on about the nature of evil and the depths to which a human being could sink.

While Nils very much remained unrepentant for his part in it, though, Lucas was a different matter. Free of the often-overbearing influence of his bandmate and clean of the drugs that had served as nothing more than a fuel to his mental decline into true darkness, he began to seek a better path upon which to follow.

“Do I feel guilt for what I did? Of course, I fucking do. Every day. Would I have done what I did if I hadn’t been out of my skull on drugs? I’d like to say probably not, y’know. That guy who murdered an innocent man, he isn’t the same person who is sitting here before you today. People are capable of change. Through incarceration, I’m at least trying to atone for what I did, become a better person.”

Not many were willing to believe the words he gave when a journalist visited with him nine years into his sentence, not many at all. However, there was one woman who was prepared to give him the benefit of the doubt, though. One woman who the name Lucas Borgström meant something very different to how he was so commonly perceived.

The finger clicking. Even over the reasonably loud thrum of rock music coming through the speakers placed at each corner of the shop, Erika could hear the persistent clicks, preceding the arrival of she who could never stand still unless she was working.

“So, are we out tonight, are we drinking, are we dancing?” Nina, her beloved best friend and business partner asked in her usual rapid fire. She could never solely present one question, a ball of energy that seemed to never cease in its rotation, a live wire of a person who exuded the kind of energy that left people exhausted merely to witness.

She was never loud with it, but god alive, how the energy sparked bright.

Looking up to where the British expat danced around on the spot, fingers still clicking, Erika paused, giving her client a well-earned break. “I’ll come for one, but I’m pretty tired.”

The energetic twitching immediately stilled. “One? Excuse me, one drink? Oh, you fucking blasphemer! How dare you say this in the presence of a Friday night, girly!”

“I know, I know, however...”

A loud snort sounded. “No! No however! Where has my fun-loving, hard drinking little playmate gone? One drink? What a load of bollocks!”

Sighing, Erika dipped the tattoo machine needle into more black ink, returning it to the huge backpiece of a mandala she was working her way through. “To use your British-ism, bollocks it may be, but my liver needs a break, dude.”

Nina rolled her eyes dramatically, muttering something unflattering about weak constitutions, but Erika’s focus had already shifted back to her work. The hum of the tattoo machine provided a meditative rhythm, almost hypnotic, as intricate dots formed the weaving patterns under her skilled hand.

She couldn't help but smirk at Nina's antics; the woman was relentless, but it was part of her charm. Letting out a small chuckle, her thoughts briefly drifted to the pull of wild nights and reckless abandon, only to be tugged gently back to the present by the vibration of the machine in her grasp.

The song on the rock radio station then changed, giving her another little jolt. The Sigils of Seven, the title track from the second album by The Hanged, one of her all-time favourite bands. She might have been a little biased since the guys all hailed from the same place as her, the municipality of Solm, but their musical talent truly did precede any hometown loyalty.

That loyalty was a somewhat fractured, though, twelve years on from the crime that had shaken Stockholm to its core.

“Man, I used to love these guys,” her client spoke, shaking his head. “I try and separate art from artist, but it’s hard in this case.”

A still-present Nina pointed right at him. “You have that right, my man! Jesus wept, I swear my mouth couldn’t have hung open wider when I found out what they’d done to that poor bloke!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he began in agreement, looking in her direction as she pulled up a chair to his side. “I sort of want to be lenient in what I think, because of all the drugs and shit, but fuck. They’re not good people. Fucking psychos. Lucas especially.”

It was at that point Erika had to physically bite her tongue, because for her, she knew very much differently to the common opinion. Not for Nils, but for Lucas, she could attest with great surety that he was far from a psychopath. How? Because she had been writing to him for the last three years, that was how.

It had wounded her deeply, back when the murder had taken place and he and his bandmate had been subsequently arrested and sentenced. To know that a musician she admired and looked up to so much was capable of that kind of depravity had genuinely shaken her, the same as it had for many of their other fans, too.

She simply couldn’t believe it, that a man who seemed an utter delight to be in the company of, often boisterous and hilarious in interviews, famed for being nothing but friendly and welcoming to his fans, had taken such a fall from grace. Despite fairly common opinion, Satanists were not all dark and evil people, Lucas certainly seeming to be far from it, regardless of the very much darker lyrical content of the band’s second album.

“Satanism, to me, it’s about being your own god, y’know, just be peaceful with it, be a good person to be good, not because some imaginary sky daddy is going to reward or punish me if I am or if I’m not. I don’t have intentions to fucking make sacrifices to a dark lord, drink blood and chant, yadda, yadda, yadda. None of that shit. I’m not a theistic Satanist.

“Read up on it, man. It goes against the tenets of Satanism, the very first to be exact. One should strive to act with compassion and empathy toward all creatures in accordance with reason. There it is, there’s my fucking answer.”

Just fourteen months on from that interview, where he’d been nothing contrary to his usual upbeat, well-spoken self, and he’d descended into the kind of darkness that Erika had assumed there to be no emergence from.

He had gone from a young man on a path to what he described as clarity of thought, and a conscious desire to uphold the beliefs taught through The Satanic Temple, to a fully blown theistic Satanist, a sect with much differing beliefs in that they truly believed Satan to be a deity in which to praise and appease.

The Satanic Temple merely used Satan as a symbol of pride, liberty and individualism. They did not believe in his existence nor praise him as a deity, never promoting the worship of he who many coined as their dark lord.

By the time he was arrested, covered in the blood of the man who he’d jointly stabbed to death, it was fair to say that Lucas very much believed there was a dark lord to be worshipped, and a sacrifice made to. As Erika knew well, it was a regret that still plagued him greatly. He never made excuses for it either.

Yeah, I was bent out of shape on drugs, too many drugs, drinking too much, yadda, yadda, yadda. I still let myself go down that path though, Erika. Still got pulled in by the darkness of something I should have opened my fucking eyes over. I know people blame Nils for how I turned out, but I’m not brainless, y’know? I could have told him no, and I didn’t. I’m responsible for my actions, and I take it fully on board, what I did to Pieter.

That was what he had stated in one of the first letters where he’d truly opened up to her. An interview had been conducted by a journalist for a magazine feature on Scandinavian metal and the many instances of musicians themselves committing horrific crimes, upon after reading Erika had felt compelled to reach out to Lucas.

What she had witnessed was a man who took full responsibility for his crimes and was trying hard to put himself on a better path. There was honest remorse within him, a desire to atone, a drive to show people he was more than the hideous act of violence he had once committed.

I let a lot of people down. My family, my mom, sister and brother especially, my grandparents, my friends, my band and my fans. When I finally get out, I want to prove that I’m capable of change, show that I took full advantage of the excellent rehabilitation I’ve been given so far over my sentence.

I can’t say I’d ever blame people for not allowing me that chance, though. My relationship with my mother is strained to this day, I know that Jacob (Bjornsson, former rhythm guitarist for The Hanged) will never speak to me again, and I know that a huge part of our fanbase will never forgive me either.

There’s a lot of motherfucking shit out there that isn’t fucking true about me, but what is, that’s enough to blacken my name forever. And I completely accept that. I would, however, love to be given a chance to prove common opinion wrong.

She didn’t expect to receive a reply at all initially, so had been truly stunned to see a letter in her post box from him just over a week after mailing hers. Three years had passed since, and because of the common consensus over the man, she hadn’t told a soul of their burgeoning friendship, a friendship that if she was honest, was now becoming something more.

Much more.

It would have been a lie if she’d said she hadn’t been hesitant to send him a photograph of her at his request, but his reply had certainly been worth it. As well as unbelievable that the man her teenage self had lusted after so heavily thought what he did about her.

Your picture? Damn. I think I might need to be on blood pressure medication, because you just sent it through the roof. You are stunning, Erika. Unbelievably stunning!

“What are you grinning about?”

Nina’s sharp chirp immediately sent the little Lucas-centred daydream she’d fallen into shattering to smithereens. “We’re talking about a vile, unrepentant murderer and you’re there, smiling like a loon?”

“He isn’t unrepentant.” Oh, shit. The words slipped from her mouth before she even had time to hang onto them for dear life.

Nina cocked her head. “And how would you know? You don’t honestly believe that bullshit he said in the article a while back, do you?” Erika’s pause spoke volumes. “Oh, my life. You do, don’t you?” Further silence, which only spurred the cogs in Nina’s mind to begin revolving further, as if fuelling her interrogation. “Why do you suddenly look so uncomfortable, matey?”

Shit, shit, shit! Nina never let something go, and fuck, if she didn’t always see through any of Erika’s facades to conceal the truth. “I’ll talk to you later. Could you be a doll and fetch me a soda? I’m so thirsty.”

One hour on from then, while they sat down within the cosy confines of The Churchill Arms there in Vasastan, a favourite since it was a British-themed pub and thus reminded Nina of home, Erika knew her time was up.

“Listen, I need to confide in you, about earlier,” she began, sipping her beer. “The reason I looked uncomfortable when we were discussing Lucas Borgström is because of something I’ve been hiding from you. From everyone, in fact.”

Immediately, Nina felt the pull of unrevealed gossip taking a firm swipe at her curiosity. “Then tell me! What is it? Did you know him or something, before he was sent down?” She gasped, reaching to clutch her forearms. “Where you the girl he was dating before he was banged up? I know she went into hiding after it all happened, so it isn’t out of the realms of possibility!”

Of course, she expected the barrage of questions. It was nothing if not Nina’s way. “No, no. I wasn’t. I didn’t know him then, but I do now. We’ve been writing to one another for the last three years, talking on the phone as well.”

Erika had never witnessed the colour drain from somebody’s face before, not even when her dad had almost split his foot in half after an ill-fated DIY project involving a lump hammer. Sure enough, though, she saw it then, Nina losing the usual blush from her cheeks.

“Why... why, why, why the hell are you communicating with a bloody murderer, mate? Why? And more than that, well, no. I don’t have more. Just why!”

She expected it, the shock that seemed to be speeding through her friend like an out-of-control F1 vehicle. “Because after reading that interview he gave, the one you denounced as bullshit, I just felt compelled to, I dunno,” she began, shrugging as Nina’s intense gaze of disbelief prickled at her. “I was always a huge fan of his until the murder. Reading his words, though, I believed him, and I was right to. Honestly, dude. He’s not the same guy.”

If aghast had a face, in that moment it was Nina Bennett. “How do you even know that, though? Bloody, bloody, bloody hell! Written letters and phone calls aren’t a marker for somebody’s true nature! He might just be playing you!”

“For what end?” she asked, frowning a little.

“I don’t flippin’ know, I’m not him! I’m not a murdering psychopath!” she spluttered, small droplets of her vodka and soda flecking the table. “All I know is that a man who contributed to murdering somebody via thirty-nine stab wounds, who then went on to carve an inverted pentagram on his victim’s chest, painted himself in his blood and then rucked with the coppers who turned up to arrest him is bad news!”

Erika could feel herself winding tight, but pushed it down. In that moment, she chose to channel a little bit of Lucas, a man who had taught her that in the face of adversity, remaining calm was the best way to get your point across. If only Nina could actually speak to him, to see if for herself, how he wasn’t the same man any longer.

“I think it’s fair to say that the mental clarity of somebody high on the cocktail of drugs he was, well, it was severely compromised.” Amphetamine, cocaine, PCP and alcohol were found in his system, according to the reports she’d read. How he was even able to stand up, let alone stab somebody to death was beyond her. “But he still makes no excuses for it. If he was truly as rotten to his core as many say that he is, surely, he wouldn’t be so admitting of that?”

Her sweet Erika; she always saw the good in people first. It was something Nina cherished dearly about her friend, but in this instance saw as a huge red flag. “Ever thought it might be a facade, simply to get early release, be let out and then go on another rampage?”

“No, no,” she replied staunchly, “because why would he choose incarceration all over again, doll? That’s just silly. He truly wants to make amends. Listen, he’s lost almost twelve years of his life. In fact, it actually is twelve years now if you count the time they were locked up prior to the case coming to trial. All he wants is to be free, see if he can resurrect his career and carry on with his life. He says that he expects people not to give him that chance, though, and he wouldn’t blame them if they don’t.”

Her words were quite fair, Nina had to concede. It still left an unpleasant feeling creeping through her tummy, though. “So, have you ever been down to visit him, then?”

It wasn’t out of the realms of possibility that she could, with Anstalten Hall prison being only a half hour drive away from Vasastan. “Not yet, no. It’s taken a while for us to build up the kind of trust and rapport with each other where I would actually want to meet him in the flesh, plus he was hesitant as well. He kept a lot of his visitations open for his mom to go and see him, but she never has. She’s too upset, still.”

Nina nodded. “As any mother would be, yeah.”

“However, he’s put me on his visitors list and I’m all set to go and meet him for the first time next week. I’m really looking forward to it, although I’m nervous as shit about it.”

More nods followed. “As anyone would be, sitting across from a convicted murderer.”

“No, no. It isn’t because of what he did,” she stated, her hand moving to her ponytail, beginning to weave her locks around her index finger. “It’s because... well...” Biting her lip, she looked out from beneath her lashes, taking a deep breath. “I like him, Nina. As in, more than a friend, like him. And it’s mutual. We have a connection; we really trust and respect one another.

“Also, they don’t censor letters or phone calls, and so it’s fair to say things have begun to become a little flirty over the last few months, too. Well, flirty is putting it mildly. Sometimes, it’s downright spicy.”

Watching her friend’s face fall, she knew revealing such wouldn’t be met with Nina’s usual sunshine. “Oh god, mate.” Reaching for her hands, she squeezed them, a line of concern pinching her brows tightly. “I hope you know what you’re doing. I really, really do. Look, I trust you, but I don’t trust him. I’m sorry, but I don’t. Also, where can this go? Are you prepared to wait for him for another six years?”

“It might not be that long,” she revealed, “since a lot of prisoners are given early release if they’ve behaved well inside. I looked it up, it’s usually after two thirds of their time served. He mentioned the other day that it might be a reality for him, but he wasn’t certain just yet.”

“Well, if it is, I think you should tread cautiously. Get to know him as a person on the outside before you go all in with him. Really, you have to be careful. He ain’t just some petty criminal; he’s a fucking murderer.”

She crinkled her nose then, sighing, looking pained as she stroked Erika’s hands with her thumbs. “I have to admit it though, mate. It’s at odds with the desire in me as your bestie to get excited with you, because I can see it in you, that you’re over there having an “I like a guy” moment. I’m just scared because of who the guy is.”

She paused, grimacing a little. “And regardless of that, I see it, the attraction. He is gorgeous, and insanely talented, but I feel bad saying that! I want to ask you things as well, have a good ole’ girly gossip, but it keeps hitting me that I shouldn’t because I don’t want to encourage something I’m not really on board with!”

“Then ask me,” Erika stated simply, shrugging, releasing one of her hands to pick up her beer and take another swig. “Listen, people are multi-faceted, aren’t they? There’s a lot more to who Lucas is than the crime he committed. Much more. You’re not a bad person for wanting to hear things, just like I’m not a bad person for giving the man a chance.”

Indecision seemed to continue coiling through the blonde-haired Brit, Nina holding up a finger and rising from her seat. A few minutes passed before she returned with another round, plus two shots on the tray she held.

“I said I was only staying for one,” Erika moaned, although it was through a little smile.

“Bollocks,” Nina huffed, taking the vodka soda, beer and two shots of tequila from the tray and placing them down. “You’re about to tell me about all the horny stuff you’re discussing with a bloody convict. I need another drink, so that means you do, too.” Lifting the shot glass, she clinked it against Erika’s, widening her eyes. “Bottoms up!”

Once the shots were sunk, Nina cleared the glasses to the side of the table, drumming her hands off it rhythmically. “So, tell me. How’s the flirting been? What’s been said?”

“You know, this and that,” she began, snorting with laughter at the eye roll she was given. Unless a little drunk, though, Erika wasn’t one to be overly brash or crude. Drunk Erika, though? She was a different animal. “Okay so he said that when I first sent him a picture of him, he had to go off and have a cold shower. One that didn’t solely extend to the purposes of washing.”

“So, you’re the man’s wank fodder then, is what you’re telling me?”

“Oh, yeah,” she revealed, snorting with laughter. “Apparently lots of girls have sent pictures to him, loads of letters basically hero praising him, but none of them stood out like I did. That was months before he even saw my picture, too. He said if he was free, he’d be dating me in a heartbeat. And, well... he said I shouldn’t make any plans once he’s released, because he’s going to need to take me to bed for at least a day.”

Nina’s eyebrows rose immediately. “Well, yeah. The man has been like a monk for the last twelve years. Your poor little fanny is going to get a right battering!” She then regained a little of her reservation, pointing across the table. “I meant it though, that you shouldn’t go all in with him. So maybe don’t jump into bed with him right away and spend that day shagging like rabbits, hmm?”

“Yeah, yeah. Maybe. I dunno,” she hummed, finishing her beer and pulling the fresh glass closer to sip the foamy head. “Oh fuck, he made me laugh so much, though. He said not to expect anything too much from him because of course, it’s been twelve years since he last had sex. But, and I quote, he said I could expect to receive the greatest twenty seconds of my life the first time!”

Nina couldn’t help the laugh that erupted from her, hearing that. That little slice of very non-egotistical humour somewhat soothed her fears, although she knew beneath it, her concern for her friend and this man would continue to linger. “At least the bloke’s honest!”

Truly, he’d been nothing but with her. Their conversation moved on, Erika staying for a third drink before she made her excuses and went home, Nina deciding to hook up with some other friends who were more inclined to make a night of it.

Once back within her small, yet charming bungalow home, the first thing she did was check her post box, delighted to see a letter within from the object of her rapidly growing affections. Taking a shower and dressing in a comfy lounge set, she settled in with a cup of tea, ready to read.

Hi beautiful!

Fuck, I’m bored. Can’t leave my cell as the prison is on lockdown right now. A kid got shanked, survived it luckily but there’ve been going from cell to cell doing weapons searches. They just searched mine about a half hour ago, and we won’t be allowed to roam around until they’re done.

Sometimes, I almost forget that it’s a prison until things like this happen. Like I’ve explained to you before, unlike so many other prison systems around the world, we’re treated really fairly in here. No dark cells, few liberties taken, yadda, yadda, yadda. We have it lucky. I don’t get why the young guys coming in here wanna rock the boat like that. They should just put their motherfucking heads down and do their time, y’know? All this gang bullshit is fucked.

Anyway, how are you? How did it go with that client who kept cancelling, how did she take it that you were still charging for your time? I’m proud of you that you took my advice there. I know you’re tough and you stand up for yourself, and I really like that about you, but yeah, you definitely need to extend it more to people thinking they can cancel on you last minute. It’s disrespectful to waste your time like that. You have bills to pay!

I can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to your visit. It’s been a long time in the coming, hasn’t it? I really appreciate you so much, Erika, probably more than you know. You’ve been such a guiding light to me on my journey over the past three years. And, well, a source of my hands to continue wandering... Fuck, I thought I knew horny before I saw you. Twelve years of pent-up sexual frustrations, while knowing I (hopefully?) have you to come out to? It’s wearing my patience a little thin, hah!

Anyway, that aside, Alex visited me two days ago. He played me some rough drafts of the songs he’s been working on. The guy did a fucking killer job with it all! Just him on his own, okay so he isn’t going to play everything like I would on bass, like Jacob would (but as you know, that door is firmly closed) or like Nils would drum, but he had the vibe down, y’know?

He was telling me too that he wrote to Nils again recently and finally got a reply. I know he didn’t take to prison or the rehabilitative nature of it quite as easily as I eventually did, but Alex tells me he’s doing well. He’s finally come out and said he isn’t proud of what he did and that he wants to move past it all, that he’s been making a serious effort to be better, too. That pleased me.

I thought for so long he was lost to that darkness we both found ourselves in, and it made me feel bad for him. I didn’t want him to be stuck in that place, y’know, and he was for so, so long. I guess maturity has to hit us all at some point, it just took him a few years longer to come to terms with it all and actually arrive there.

Anyway, I’ll leave it here, so I have things to talk to you about when you visit. Did I mention that I can’t wait?? Hah!

Be safe,

Lucas.

Her heart fluttered more and more with every word that passed, reading his usual geniality, his humour, his enthusiasm for his music. He couldn’t wait to meet her, and neither could she.

The next five days would be the longest wait ever, but for him, it was worth it.

A/N - Did you like what you just read? If so, please reward your author with a little comment or a reblog. Your support would mean so much to me!

#original fiction #original story #original novel #metal #metal guys #comment reblog #ddd shows gratitude

25 notes · View notes

darklydeliciousdesires · 2 days ago

Text

A Storm of Stars - Chapter Thirteen.

Thank you, as ever, to my beautiful audience for your continued interactions with the story :)

Summary: The Targaryen twin stars. Two sides of the same coin. Aemond and Aemella Targaryen, second children of King Viserys I and his queen, Alicent Hightower, had spent their entire lives almost as one, the lines blurring where one twin ended and the other began. What started as an inseparable sibling bond eventually bloomed into a deep, limitless love.

A day would come, though, when their love story - famed for generations to come - would be tested by the one who sought to tear them apart. When the storm of stars descended, nobody who had wronged them would come away unscathed.

Words - 3,769

Tag list - In the comments. Please DM to be added.

Warnings - 18+ content throughout. Incest, mentions of child loss through miscarriage. Minors DNI.

Previous Chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve

As the shadows lengthened across the vast hall, the weight of the crown’s future rested heavily upon Aemella's shoulders. She felt the intensity of the sorrow-stricken eyes of those assembled, knights, courtiers, Maesters and servants alike, each one silently coming to terms with their grief. The ominous silence was broken only by the soft rustle of fabric as Alicent moved gracefully, her face a mask of stoic determination, concealing the bereft shadows that crept over her heart.

One son had departed, and now another stepped forth into his place. For the sake of the realm, the war and what was left of their family, she could only hope he would be less tempestuous a ruler in Aegon’s stead.

Reaching for his face, her thumb stroked just below his scar. “I pray you are prepared for what is to come.” Turning to Aemella, she pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You as well, sweetling.”

Pausing a long moment, she searched her daughter’s eyes, looking for something, anything. Although she did not wish to naturally assume the stance of suspicion - given that it was entirely plausible Aegon had passed from his horrific injuries - she could never discount when whispers from shadowed parts of her mind began to sound softly.

“I am,” Aemella spoke, moving from Aemond’s embrace to hug her mother tightly, the scent of her poppy perfume flooding her nose. “I will make you proud, mummy.”

Mummy. It had been years since Alicent had heard her daughter refer to her as such, her searching ceased in that instant as her heart fluttered with nostalgic warmth. While her sweet geniality masked the wicked truth of her actions, Aemella meant it with every fibre of her being. She would make her mother proud. After all, she had done what she had for her as much as anyone else, seeing the weariness and worry her brother’s madness had brought to their mother.

She knew that her actions would shape the destiny of the realm, though, and that there was no room for hesitation or doubt. With a resolute breath, she lifted her head, her resolve hardening like Valyrian steel. She was now the queen, after all. While her brother stood strong, yet with a little hesitation, she strode back into the king’s quarters.

“Grand Maester, I wish for you to carry out a full inspection of my brother’s body, so we may know his exact cause of death.”

Aemond looked on from the door, the corner of his mouth twitching. Gods, she was clever. If any suspicion lingered in the air, she had struck it down with her determinedly delivered wishes. No murderer would ever suggest such in the eyes of a Grand Maester, of course. Not if they were certain there would be nothing to find.

“I had planned to, your grace, even though I do surmise it was the injuries we could not see which took his grace from us. I will take him to my rooms this evening, once respects have been paid.”

She nodded, her poise faultless. “Thank you, Grand Maester. The king and I are indebted to you for your valiant efforts.”

He inclined his head respectfully. “It was an honour, my queen.”

After respects were indeed paid, the Red Keep’s solemn veil was stirred by the bustle of the people within, preparations for a funeral, a coronation, Aemond kept busy for much of the afternoon as various machinations whirled around him. Once he was free of his duties, he made his way to the gardens, finding his wife wondering alone among her precious cultivations.

Falling into step at her side, he took her hand in his. “How?”

Watching her move her other hand, an elegant finger pointed out towards the fading sun, and then to a white rosebush they were about to pass. “Hmm. I remember you telling me of your success in cultivating one.”

“And only one,” she began, “my lovely little bloom made the ultimate sacrifice for the greater good.”

“As it shall indeed be as we proceed forward,” he replied, halting her, leaning down to place a kiss upon her lips. “You have never failed me. Never has there been a moment where you have not protected me from harm. I appreciate and love you more than any words could ever explain sufficiently, my queen.”

She gazed up at him adoringly, pressing her mouth to his again, their kiss deepening steadily. “And I you, my king. I love you beyond all eternity, Aemond.”

If any ladies of the court, the only people who usually toured the gardens had been present, the sight of the new – but yet to be coronated – king and queen standing amongst the flowers, kissing one another with gentle heat would have certainly set tongues wagging. That was not to say that certain whispers did not make it to the ears of a certain master, though.

Climbing the stone steps carefully, his crippled foot always a bother, Lord Larys was relieved to reach the top, shuffling down the corridor, his cane tapping rhythmically against the stone floor. He was exhausted, heavy mauve shadows creeping beneath his eyes after a day filled with mourning for the king, meeting with his successor and then, spending hours within the library, pouring over books on botany.

The king’s fate, he felt, perhaps had a hand in it. A sisterly one. After all, he had been made aware that the new queen was with him at the time of his passing. Alone, too, with only the weight of a very driving motive to wish her brother dead upon her slender shoulders.

Reaching the large, heavy door of the workroom, he tapped it thrice with his cane, waiting patiently.

“Come,” he heard her voice call, entering. “Lord Larys, what a pleasant surprise.” Gileda spoke cheerfully, pausing in her mixing together of soil with a blended herbal tonic used for optimum growth.

“Good evening, my lady,” he spoke, addressing her with his usual courtesy, eyes roving around the room. “I do not believe I have ever made visit to the queen’s workroom. I of course like many others do so enjoy her efforts once they are brought down to the gardens, though. Her grace is nothing short of a magical botanist.”

She nodded gracefully. “She indeed is.”

Continuing his tour, he limped to the terrace, seeing there a row of glass domes, various flowers growing beneath. “Ahh, the plants of your home. Dornish daffodils were a favourite of my mother’s,” he began, Gileda following him out. “And here we have the roses. Correct me, my dear lady, but my knowledge surely is nowhere near as vast as yours. We have the Willow Rose, the Dragon Rose – very exceptional, by the way – and, oh. This dome appears to be barren.”

Gileda straightened, suspicion creeping over her limbs. “A failed seedling, my lord.”

“Hmmmm.” Lifting the dome, he examined the soil, taking a pinch beneath his fingers. “A heavy sand content. Remind me, for of course as stated I do lack the knowledge. What roses thrive within a sandy environment?”

“Only two. The Starlit Rose and the Sunset Rose. Both notoriously difficult to cultivate outside of Dorne.”

Dusting soil from his fingers, he carefully placed the dome back down. “And which was it that failed within here?”

Fishing for information was a practice Gileda Sand understood well, but loyalty was one she understood even better. “A Starlit Rose, my lord.”

He sniffed, studying her intently. “And the queen has never cultivated any success with a Sunset Rose, no?” he remarked, his voice low and measured, as if each syllable carried the weight of unsaid suspicions.

“I do not believe she has ever attempted to grow one.”

“If she ever does, let me know. I’d relish in seeing one come to bloom. I will be on my way now, my lady.” Escorting him back inside, Gileda continued with her soil mixing, a knowing smile curling her mouth as the heavy door closed behind him.

“I am certain you will know if she ever does, Lord Larys.” Knowing well how it appeared that the walls of the Red Keep most certainly had ears, Gileda picked up a small pencil, scribbling words to be tossed onto the nearest fireplace upon the scrap of parchment once read. Locking up the workroom behind her, she made her way down to the new queen’s quarters.

With much to organise in the wake of Aegon’s demise, another small council meeting was held upon the following late afternoon. Otto Hightower had been sent for immediately upon Aemond succeeding as king, wanting his grandsire to return as his Hand. Road weary after travelling through the night, he arrived at the castle and immediately strode to the council room, surprised to see Aemella within the seat usually occupied by her mother.

“Hello, my darling dove,” he spoke affectionately, Aemella rising to greet him with a hug and kiss. With only the three of them present, they partook of the informality of familial bonds for a moment, before resuming their duties to the crown. “Tis’ wonderful to see you so well after your ordeal.” His little finger gently traced the tiny amount of bruising remaining to the side of her eye, his features darkening. “The utter monster.”

“I am thrilled to be home, and to see you too, dear grandsire,” she spoke, her hands moving to clasp his. “I of course wish it were under happier circumstances.”

Taking his seat to Aemond’s side, he sighed. “As do I, but may the gods forgive what I am about to share with you both, I feel through our loss we might remain practical in our thinking. Your brother was lining himself up to commemorate his reign as nothing short of a mad king, with the tempestuousness of his nature in his final days upon the throne.”

He paused, reaching for the goblet before him, taking a small sip. “At least he died a hero's death in battle, his memory not to be blighted by what I feel could have been worsening actions, should he have reigned for longer.”

“Indeed,” Aemond spoke, reaching for the brass pin before him, rising from his seat, Otto following suit. Reaching for his tunic, he then placed the pin onto it, smiling with a curt nod. “Everything is how it should be in the wake of our family tragedy.”

The newly reappointed Hand took his seat again. “I must say though, your grace, it is most unprecedented for a king to have his queen sitting upon the small council. Or are you here merely to greet me before your mother’s arrival?” he asked, turning to Aemella halfway through his question.

“My wife has been my reliable source of wisdom and strength for as long as I can remember,” Aemond spoke, smiling toward her. “Whether unprecedented or not, she now sits with me upon my council, freeing our mother from her duties.”

Alicent had not taken it well; to have been told she was now removed of her post, but Aemond didn’t much care. If there was one person whose presence he wanted close to him always as he preceded forward in his governing of the realm, it was that of his twin.

They were joined then by the remainder of the small council’s arrival, Aemond explaining the same to them as well over Aemella’s presence, their meeting going ahead.

“Regretfully, our beloved sister and new dowager queen is much too consumed with her grief to have much of a hand in the funeral preparations, so I shall take up a more active role,” Aemella began.

In truth, she suspected Helaena’s current disposition was less to do with losing their brother, and more an emotional spin of which she could not fully understand. Her and Aegon had never loved one another in the same way that she and Aemond did, after all. Her sister had always remained somewhat of a mystery to her, much as she had almost everyone else.

Sipping from her goblet, she continued. “We have been made aware that Sunfrye tragically passed from his wounds, his body now being brought back to the capitol. I feel that it is only fitting he and my brother are cremated upon the same pyre. Aegon would want it that way. He adored his dragon, after all.”

Her words were met by solemn nods. “A very fitting tribute to the late king, your grace.” Lord Tyland offered respectfully.

“It is here that I would like to share with your graces and the council my findings, after doing an examination of the king’s body at her grace’s behest,” Grand Maester Orwyle then offered, clearing his throat.

“I always suspected that there was internal damage of great magnitude after the king’s tragic accident, my suspicions confirmed. I found his lungs to be so burned that I am surprised he could draw breath at all, and state here that I believe this to be the primary factor in his demise. There was also much damage to his other organs, the likes of which would have taken him, should his lungs not have been in such a tattered state.”

“But yet he did still breathe for all of his days unconscious, Grand Maester, only to pass mere hours into his waking,” Lord Larys questioned quietly from the end of the table. “It seems so sudden after what can only be described as a valiant determination to survive.”

“His body was beyond exhausted, my lord,” Orwyle stated, sadness clouding his dark eyes.

Larys nodded, continuing. “Yet he was capable of speech, was he not? Surely, if he was so exhausted, his lungs so bad in their deformations, this would not have been possible?”

Orwyle frowned softly. “Every breath and word were a struggle for his grace.”

“Exactly what are you trying to bring to the light, Lord Larys?” Aemond snapped from the top of the table, becoming impatient over the man’s tiptoed suspicions.

“I find there to be some troubling facts that I would like to bring to you and the council alike, your grace,” he spoke, Aemond nodding in acceptance. “The most troubling I find is that the king awoke, his condition said to be stable even through such terrible afflictions, only to die hours later. A rather sudden nosedive, one might say. In the presence of his sister alone, too. Somebody with, as again one might say, a clear motive to harm him.”

“You do not surely mean to suspect the queen, my lord,” Orwyle exclaimed, shocked to his bones at such implications. “Her charity, kindness and faith in the wake of our king’s accident were unparalleled. A person with motives of murder within their heart would not have spent such diligent time at his grace’s bedside, where I can attest that she was left alone with him for many an hour over those days. If she meant harm to him at all, surely her chance would have been taken much sooner?”

Larys seemed to ignore such reason, turning to the doors. “Ser Eddard, if you could please see in Gileda Sand.”

“My lord.” he nodded, turning to open the door, seeing the Dornish beauty inside.

“Please do take a seat, my lady,” Larys offered, gesturing to the unoccupied chair at the foot of the table.

“My lord, what is the meaning of this cloak and dagger behaviour you bring to the council?” Aemond spoke, fixing the Master of Whispers with a cold, hard stare.

“If I may be allowed to proceed, your grace, all shall be revealed.” Turning back to Gileda, he began his questioning. “You can vouch for the fact that I visited with you last night, my lady?”

“I can,” she replied, neatly knitting her fingers together before her on the table.

“And you assisted with my inquiries, did you not?”

“I did.”

“Very good. Now, nothing particularly amiss was found, I would like to openly declare. However, I am informed that as soon as I had left, you made an immediate visit to her grace. Can you tell us why you felt the need to rush to her side right away?”

His implications were becoming clearer, like clouds breaking upon a dull day and allowing for the sun to illuminate. “I visited with the queen last night to give her my personal condolences over the death of our late king, my lord,” she began, each word measured, her head held high.

“Rather informal for that of a mere courtesan, a tutor, one might say.” Oh, this man. He was like a hunting dog with a bone within his mouth; his grasp would surely not be loosened without a fight.

Gileda’s eyes moved to Aemella, gesturing then with a sweep of her hand. “I have known her grace since she was four. I have watched her grow from a curious, congenial little girl into a wise, poised young woman. I speak with nothing but pride to call her my friend, for she is. Lord Larys, I do not know how it stands in your world, but in mine, we show our friends support in their time of need.”

Larys remained firm in his examination. “Or one might say you were forewarning her of my inquiries.”

By that point, Aemond had heard all he was prepared to. “Lord Larys, I tire of you dancing around this inquisition. What is your proof here that my wife, your queen, had a hand in the death of our brother?”

“Yes, my lord. To what end do you cast these aspersions toward my granddaughter?” Otto then spoke, rather irritated by it. Weary from the journey he had taken through the night and much of the day to travel there, he could do without the Master of Whispers seemingly making baseless accusations of subterfuge.

“To the end that I feel we have conspirators within our midst, lord Hand,” he began calmly, each set of eyes viewing him shrewdly. “I have had information brought to me that negates the testimony of both her grace and Gileda Sand, that there within the queen’s itinerary of flowers upon the workroom terrace, a distinctly coloured orange rose grew. It remained there until the queen’s arrival back from her ill-fated journey to the Iron Islands before suddenly vanishing.”

He thought he had his ace, oh, how the slimy little toad of a man did truly believe he had played a winning hand. Before anyone could offer rebuttal, though, Aemella rose from the table. “If my lords and his grace would like to accompany Gileda and I to the gardens.”

Aemond viewed her with subtle inquiry, receiving a speedy wink from his wife. He trusted, as ever, that she had an ace of her own up her sleeve.

It was an unprecedented sight, the small council all filing out into the gardens, their footfalls disturbing the peace being enjoyed by the ladies of the court as they toured the paths, Aemella and leading the way. Reaching the plentiful quad filled with roses of many kinds, she halted the party, extending her hand.

“The Ochre Fox Rose, my lords,” she revealed, “which I took from the terrace and planted here upon my return. Very similar in its blooms to that of the Sunset Rose, but much easier to nurture from seed. The truth is that we simply do not have the climate to accommodate such roses here in the capitol. Gileda can vouch that our attempted cultivation of a Starlit Rose, for example, attests to this. If I could not cultivate that, why on earth would I attempt another which is known only to thrive in similar conditions? One I have absolutely no use for either?”

All eyes turned to Larys, the queen commanding their return as she continued. “While tis’ true, the Sunset Rose has deadly poisonous properties within the rosehips themselves, its primary function is a muscle relaxant. I already grow a number of plants which serve the same benefits, skullcap and rosemary being but two I could name.”

Larys opened his mouth, the queen holding up her hand. Oh, she was not quite finished. “My lord, while I appreciate your tenacity to the crown in these investigations, the simple truth is that my brother died from his injuries. No matter the bad blood that existed between us prior to his accident, he was still my kin. It is a hard enough blow to have lost my elder brother, but for you to willingly seek rubbing salt into my wounds is a barb I shall no longer endure. Pain is something I think I have suffered quite enough of lately.”

“Nor shall I,” Aemond weighed in with, his nostrils flaring. “You are dismissed from court, Lord Larys. Immediately.”

Within him, the desire to drag his slimy, duplicitous bag of bones out to Vhagar and roast him alive curled ferociously within his guts, Aemond feeling it spike at his temper like the barbs of a dragon tail. Lest any further suspicion befall his queen over her cunning handling of silencing those who displeased her, though, he pushed the desire to eradicate him permanently as far down as it would go.

Unseating the man from any power was a sufficient punishment. For men like Larys, to fall from grace would sting him for years to come. Aemond settled somewhat happily upon such a suffering. He truly would have preferred trial via dragonfire, though.

The new king also understood well that he had to rise above the recklessness of his predecessor, to be viewed as nothing but a reliable counterbalance in his ascension to the throne. At least in this particular instance, for there was a greater retribution to come, one in which his poise as lord of the Seven Kingdoms would be firmly pushed aside to allow the vengeance owed.

His dismissal hadn’t been the result he was expecting, but Larys surely should have known it would be the one he’d receive. With his pride rather dented at the plausibility of the queen’s explanation, he wrestled with doubt while hobbling away, all while wondering whether truly it was his mistake, or if the queen was even more cunning than he had first realised. Suffice to say, his pride was gravely wounded either way.

“Now, shall we return indoors, my lords?” Aemella spoke, gesturing back towards the entrance they had come. While they moved along the path, Aemond halted her, leaning to kiss her cheek and whisper within her ear.

“You are far too clever for your own good.”

A wry smile spread her pretty lips, winking at him. “I know, husband.”

A/N - Now, did you enjoy what you just read? Please remember, this is not Instagram. Clicking that heart does little, but a comment? Your author will be rewarded. A comment and reblog? Your author is throwing roses at your feet! It takes less time to do this than it did for you to read the chapter, too. Please, be kind and help support the fandom! :)

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfiction #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction #HOTD #HOTD fanfiction #aemond one eye #prince aemond targaryen #aemond and aemella #a storm of stars

21 notes · View notes

darklydeliciousdesires · 3 days ago

Text

Nine People I Want to Get to Know Better

Thanks for the tag @runnning-outof-time! Lovely to see you in my notifs again, darling K!

—

Favorite color: Black

Currently reading: I'm not. I've sold my soul to the creative muse and I'm currently tits deep in the writing game with a brand new original piece (first chapter HERE if anyone is interested!)

Last song: Dark Night of the Soul - Mayhem

Last movie: Overboard. Never seen it despite being a massive Goldie Hawn fan, but I'd definitely watch it again!

Last Series: The husband made me watch The Inbetweeners last night. It's so fucking cringe!!

Sweet, Savoury or Salty: Savoury, please!

Craving: Sleep

Tea or coffee: Coffee

Currently working on: As above, my new original piece, Sanctuary :)

—

Tagging: @mostly-marvel-musings @call-sign-shark @cillmequick @zablife @jvalentinesworld-cokes-hyna @jemmalynette @ginger-grimm @wonderlanddreamer @lovemissyhoneybee

#tag game

87 notes · View notes

darklydeliciousdesires · 3 days ago

Text

This. There's a few idiots of my tumblr past who could do with heeding this. But they won't.

Look at me. Listen to me.

Just because you don't like where a story goes, doesn't mean that it was bad writing.

50 notes · View notes

darklydeliciousdesires · 5 days ago

Text

NOT ME sitting here squealing and having to read your review twice! Not me, nope!

I’m so lucky to have people like you who thrive on my stories so much, how much joy you derive from reading them never fails to make me smile, and I love your enthusiasm here especially!

I absolutely cannot wait for you to read them never fails rest of what I have in store for these two. Welcome to the story, darling!

Sanctuary - An Original Story.

Words - 5,453

Warnings - 18+ content, mentions of violence. Of course, it'll be smutty too, eventually! Minors DNI!

The trial will undoubtedly be remembered as a chilling chapter in the Solna's history.”

In the aftermath of the news coverage, the trial over and all involved ready to begin picking up the pieces, the internet community at large continued to voice opinion over the case.

“Eighteen years??? For what they did, that’s fucked up!”

She was never loud with it, but god alive, how the energy sparked bright.

Looking up to where the British expat danced around on the spot, fingers still clicking, Erika paused, giving her client a well-earned break. “I’ll come for one, but I’m pretty tired.”

The energetic twitching immediately stilled. “One? Excuse me, one drink? Oh, you fucking blasphemer! How dare you say this in the presence of a Friday night, girly!”

“I know, I know, however...”

A loud snort sounded. “No! No however! Where has my fun-loving, hard drinking little playmate gone? One drink? What a load of bollocks!”

That loyalty was a somewhat fractured, though, twelve years on from the crime that had shaken Stockholm to its core.

“Man, I used to love these guys,” her client spoke, shaking his head. “I try and separate art from artist, but it’s hard in this case.”

A still-present Nina pointed right at him. “You have that right, my man! Jesus wept, I swear my mouth couldn’t have hung open wider when I found out what they’d done to that poor bloke!”

Much more.

Your picture? Damn. I think I might need to be on blood pressure medication, because you just sent it through the roof. You are stunning, Erika. Unbelievably stunning!

“What are you grinning about?”

“He isn’t unrepentant.” Oh, shit. The words slipped from her mouth before she even had time to hang onto them for dear life.

“Why... why, why, why the hell are you communicating with a bloody murderer, mate? Why? And more than that, well, no. I don’t have more. Just why!”

“For what end?” she asked, frowning a little.

Her words were quite fair, Nina had to concede. It still left an unpleasant feeling creeping through her tummy, though. “So, have you ever been down to visit him, then?”

Nina nodded. “As any mother would be, yeah.”

“However, he’s put me on his visitors list and I’m all set to go and meet him for the first time next week. I’m really looking forward to it, although I’m nervous as shit about it.”

More nods followed. “As anyone would be, sitting across from a convicted murderer.”

“I said I was only staying for one,” Erika moaned, although it was through a little smile.

Once the shots were sunk, Nina cleared the glasses to the side of the table, drumming her hands off it rhythmically. “So, tell me. How’s the flirting been? What’s been said?”

“So, you’re the man’s wank fodder then, is what you’re telling me?”

Hi beautiful!

Anyway, I’ll leave it here, so I have things to talk to you about when you visit. Did I mention that I can’t wait?? Hah!

Be safe,

Lucas.

Her heart fluttered more and more with every word that passed, reading his usual geniality, his humour, his enthusiasm for his music. He couldn’t wait to meet her, and neither could she.

The next five days would be the longest wait ever, but for him, it was worth it.

A/N - Did you like what you just read? If so, please reward your author with a little comment or a reblog. Your support would mean so much to me!

#original fiction #original story #original stories #original novel #writing #musician fiction #musicians #metal #metal guys #comment reblog #ddd shows gratitude

25 notes · View notes

darklydeliciousdesires · 5 days ago

Text

Litte self-promotion reblog. Please, could I ask my lovely followers to help me signal boost this and give it a reblog? Even if you're not interested in reading it yourself (but I would be thrilled if you did!) I would love for it to reach more people as those willing to read original fiction here are in the minority. Big thanks in advance, loves <3

Sanctuary - An Original Story.

Words - 5,453

Warnings - 18+ content, mentions of violence. Of course, it'll be smutty too, eventually! Minors DNI!

The trial will undoubtedly be remembered as a chilling chapter in the Solna's history.”

In the aftermath of the news coverage, the trial over and all involved ready to begin picking up the pieces, the internet community at large continued to voice opinion over the case.

“Eighteen years??? For what they did, that’s fucked up!”

She was never loud with it, but god alive, how the energy sparked bright.

Looking up to where the British expat danced around on the spot, fingers still clicking, Erika paused, giving her client a well-earned break. “I’ll come for one, but I’m pretty tired.”

The energetic twitching immediately stilled. “One? Excuse me, one drink? Oh, you fucking blasphemer! How dare you say this in the presence of a Friday night, girly!”

“I know, I know, however...”

A loud snort sounded. “No! No however! Where has my fun-loving, hard drinking little playmate gone? One drink? What a load of bollocks!”

That loyalty was a somewhat fractured, though, twelve years on from the crime that had shaken Stockholm to its core.

“Man, I used to love these guys,” her client spoke, shaking his head. “I try and separate art from artist, but it’s hard in this case.”

A still-present Nina pointed right at him. “You have that right, my man! Jesus wept, I swear my mouth couldn’t have hung open wider when I found out what they’d done to that poor bloke!”

Much more.

Your picture? Damn. I think I might need to be on blood pressure medication, because you just sent it through the roof. You are stunning, Erika. Unbelievably stunning!

“What are you grinning about?”

“He isn’t unrepentant.” Oh, shit. The words slipped from her mouth before she even had time to hang onto them for dear life.

Shit, shit, shit! Nina never let something go, and fuck, if she didn’t always see through any of Erika’s facades to conceal the truth. “I��ll talk to you later. Could you be a doll and fetch me a soda? I’m so thirsty.”

“Why... why, why, why the hell are you communicating with a bloody murderer, mate? Why? And more than that, well, no. I don’t have more. Just why!”

“For what end?” she asked, frowning a little.

Her words were quite fair, Nina had to concede. It still left an unpleasant feeling creeping through her tummy, though. “So, have you ever been down to visit him, then?”

Nina nodded. “As any mother would be, yeah.”

“However, he’s put me on his visitors list and I’m all set to go and meet him for the first time next week. I’m really looking forward to it, although I’m nervous as shit about it.”

More nods followed. “As anyone would be, sitting across from a convicted murderer.”

“I said I was only staying for one,” Erika moaned, although it was through a little smile.

Once the shots were sunk, Nina cleared the glasses to the side of the table, drumming her hands off it rhythmically. “So, tell me. How’s the flirting been? What’s been said?”

“So, you’re the man’s wank fodder then, is what you’re telling me?”

Hi beautiful!

Anyway, I’ll leave it here, so I have things to talk to you about when you visit. Did I mention that I can’t wait?? Hah!

Be safe,

Lucas.

Her heart fluttered more and more with every word that passed, reading his usual geniality, his humour, his enthusiasm for his music. He couldn’t wait to meet her, and neither could she.

The next five days would be the longest wait ever, but for him, it was worth it.

A/N - Did you like what you just read? If so, please reward your author with a little comment or a reblog. Your support would mean so much to me!

#original fiction #original story #original stories #original novel #writing #musician fiction #musicians #metal #metal guys #signal boost

25 notes · View notes

darklydeliciousdesires · 6 days ago

Text

Darling!! As ever, your support means the world to me. Thank you so much! 🖤🖤🖤

Sanctuary - An Original Story.

Words - 5,453

Warnings - 18+ content, mentions of violence. Of course, it'll be smutty too, eventually! Minors DNI!

The trial will undoubtedly be remembered as a chilling chapter in the Solna's history.”

In the aftermath of the news coverage, the trial over and all involved ready to begin picking up the pieces, the internet community at large continued to voice opinion over the case.

“Eighteen years??? For what they did, that’s fucked up!”

She was never loud with it, but god alive, how the energy sparked bright.

Looking up to where the British expat danced around on the spot, fingers still clicking, Erika paused, giving her client a well-earned break. “I’ll come for one, but I’m pretty tired.”

The energetic twitching immediately stilled. “One? Excuse me, one drink? Oh, you fucking blasphemer! How dare you say this in the presence of a Friday night, girly!”

“I know, I know, however...”

A loud snort sounded. “No! No however! Where has my fun-loving, hard drinking little playmate gone? One drink? What a load of bollocks!”

That loyalty was a somewhat fractured, though, twelve years on from the crime that had shaken Stockholm to its core.

“Man, I used to love these guys,” her client spoke, shaking his head. “I try and separate art from artist, but it’s hard in this case.”

A still-present Nina pointed right at him. “You have that right, my man! Jesus wept, I swear my mouth couldn’t have hung open wider when I found out what they’d done to that poor bloke!”

Much more.

Your picture? Damn. I think I might need to be on blood pressure medication, because you just sent it through the roof. You are stunning, Erika. Unbelievably stunning!

“What are you grinning about?”

“He isn’t unrepentant.” Oh, shit. The words slipped from her mouth before she even had time to hang onto them for dear life.

“Why... why, why, why the hell are you communicating with a bloody murder, mate? Why? And more than that, well, no. I don’t have more. Just why!”

“For what end?” she asked, frowning a little.

Her words were quite fair, Nina had to concede. It still left an unpleasant feeling creeping through her tummy, though. “So, have you ever been down to visit him, then?”

Nina nodded. “As any mother would be, yeah.”

“However, he’s put me on his visitors list and I’m all set to go and meet him for the first time next week. I’m really looking forward to it, although I’m nervous as shit about it.”

More nods followed. “As anyone would be, sitting across from a convicted murderer.”

“I said I was only staying for one,” Erika moaned, although it was through a little smile.

Once the shots were sunk, Nina cleared the glasses to the side of the table, drumming her hands off it rhythmically. “So, tell me. How’s the flirting been? What’s been said?”

“So, you’re the man’s wank fodder then, is what you’re telling me?”

Hi beautiful!

Anyway, I’ll leave it here, so I have things to talk to you about when you visit. Did I mention that I can’t wait?? Hah!

Be safe,

Lucas.

Her heart fluttered more and more with every word that passed, reading his usual geniality, his humour, his enthusiasm for his music. He couldn’t wait to meet her, and neither could she.

The next five days would be the longest wait ever, but for him, it was worth it.

A/N - Did you like what you just read? If so, please reward your author with a little comment or a reblog. Your support would mean so much to me!

#original fiction #original story #original stories #original novel #musician fiction #writing #musicians #metal #metal guys #comment reblog #ddd shows gratitude

25 notes · View notes

darklydeliciousdesires · 7 days ago

Text

Eeeee! Thank you so much, Lee! I really appreciate you taking the time to read it and provide such awesome thoughts and feedback! Who is Lucas, indeed? Well, nothing like the deeply troubled young man who first went to prison, that's for sure. He's done a commendable amount of growing in that time, as you'll see through each consecutive chapter :)

I can't wait to see what you think of the rest, darl!

Sanctuary - An Original Story.

Words - 5,453

Warnings - 18+ content, mentions of violence. Of course, it'll be smutty too, eventually! Minors DNI!

The trial will undoubtedly be remembered as a chilling chapter in the Solna's history.”

In the aftermath of the news coverage, the trial over and all involved ready to begin picking up the pieces, the internet community at large continued to voice opinion over the case.

“Eighteen years??? For what they did, that’s fucked up!”

She was never loud with it, but god alive, how the energy sparked bright.

Looking up to where the British expat danced around on the spot, fingers still clicking, Erika paused, giving her client a well-earned break. “I’ll come for one, but I’m pretty tired.”

The energetic twitching immediately stilled. “One? Excuse me, one drink? Oh, you fucking blasphemer! How dare you say this in the presence of a Friday night, girly!”

“I know, I know, however...”

A loud snort sounded. “No! No however! Where has my fun-loving, hard drinking little playmate gone? One drink? What a load of bollocks!”

That loyalty was a somewhat fractured, though, twelve years on from the crime that had shaken Stockholm to its core.

“Man, I used to love these guys,” her client spoke, shaking his head. “I try and separate art from artist, but it’s hard in this case.”

A still-present Nina pointed right at him. “You have that right, my man! Jesus wept, I swear my mouth couldn’t have hung open wider when I found out what they’d done to that poor bloke!”

Much more.

Your picture? Damn. I think I might need to be on blood pressure medication, because you just sent it through the roof. You are stunning, Erika. Unbelievably stunning!

“What are you grinning about?”

“He isn’t unrepentant.” Oh, shit. The words slipped from her mouth before she even had time to hang onto them for dear life.

“Why... why, why, why the hell are you communicating with a bloody murder, mate? Why? And more than that, well, no. I don’t have more. Just why!”

“For what end?” she asked, frowning a little.

Her words were quite fair, Nina had to concede. It still left an unpleasant feeling creeping through her tummy, though. “So, have you ever been down to visit him, then?”

Nina nodded. “As any mother would be, yeah.”

“However, he’s put me on his visitors list and I’m all set to go and meet him for the first time next week. I’m really looking forward to it, although I’m nervous as shit about it.”

More nods followed. “As anyone would be, sitting across from a convicted murderer.”

“I said I was only staying for one,” Erika moaned, although it was through a little smile.

Once the shots were sunk, Nina cleared the glasses to the side of the table, drumming her hands off it rhythmically. “So, tell me. How’s the flirting been? What’s been said?”

“So, you’re the man’s wank fodder then, is what you’re telling me?”

Hi beautiful!

Anyway, I’ll leave it here, so I have things to talk to you about when you visit. Did I mention that I can’t wait?? Hah!

Be safe,

Lucas.

Her heart fluttered more and more with every word that passed, reading his usual geniality, his humour, his enthusiasm for his music. He couldn’t wait to meet her, and neither could she.

The next five days would be the longest wait ever, but for him, it was worth it.

A/N - Did you like what you just read? If so, please reward your author with a little comment or a reblog. Your support would mean so much to me!

#original fiction #original story #original stories #musician fiction #comment reblog #ddd shows gratitude

25 notes · View notes