#&&. interactions | a scabbard mouth for her blade of a tongue

[aromancva]

daily itineraries have been more packed than usual - it’s been rare for her to arrive in his room before him in the past couple weeks. she’s been quiet, breath soft against the pillowcase waiting for the furor in her mind to settle before the lights are shut and she attempts to chase sleep. one thought continues to nag. “ the wedding is next weekend. i haven’t finalized when i’m flying out. ” [ @ziclovs​ ]

[shadowsceptereda]

Sir Mordred.

Societal context:

There had once been peace between Camelot and those that used magic. Unfortunately, such peace wasn’t destined to last. Through Merlin’s trickery, Uther Pendragon and a bewitched Lady Igraine, lady of an enemy country, concieved Arthur.

Against the king’s wishes, Merlin abducted Arthur, taking him to be raised by a man called Sir Ector. For this treason, the Royal Wizard became an enemy of the land, and magic was thus outlawed by Uther.

Arthur would grow up under the watchful eye of Sir Ector and his son, Sir Kay - often time guided by Merlin.

But soon enough, Merlin began another game. He stated that only the one true king of this land would be able to pull Caliburn from a stone. Realizing this would be the only way to seek out his son, Uther played Merlin’s game and held meetings to discover the next heir to his throne.

Thus, Arthur was discovered, and returned home. It wasn’t until the death of Uther that he was able to bring magic back to the kingdom with Merlin by his side and rule it benevolently.

During his youth, Arthur had broken his sword - and guided by Merlin, sought out the lake within the Deep Woods, where he was gifted Excalibur and its Scabbard by Lady Nimue. This granted him immortality, and he continued to rule Camelot whilst saving it from peril many times.

Eventually, Merlin passed away, and his role as the Court Wizard was passed on to his granddaughter, Merlina. It was around this time, however, that Excalibur’s scabbard had corrupted Arthur, and he soon sought all the magic in the kingdom for himself.

Background:

Mordred was a fugitive, a druid living in a time where his kind’s abilities were outlawed. Under Uther’s rule, he among many other magic users were sought out for their ‘treacherous’ nature.

Those close to him were seldom spared by the king’s wrath, and Mordred personally had close calls, one rescued by the king’s ward and his son, Arthur ( against the advice of Merlin, who had seen prophecies of Mordred’s destiny ) .

However, when her Lady Morgana later fled the castle and sought assistance for her magical abilities, from the druid camp in which he stayed, Uther sent his men to raid the camp and ‘save’ her, slaughtering a great deal of Mordred’s people with few to spare.

He harboured great hatred towards Uther for the destruction of his kind, and had worked for retribution, working with his group and Morgana to steal an artifact belonging to the royal family that would determine the king’s doom. He and his family were tracked down for this crime by the king’s men, however, and what was left, slaughtered. Mordred escaped, though vowed revenge.

Years later, after the assasination of Uther, Mordred is encountered with a group of bandits who had captured and sought to murder Arthur and Merlin. With his silver tongue, he prolongs their demise and saves them from captivity - Arthur spares his life later for such a gesture.

Morgana later threatens Arthur’s life. Compelled by Arthur’s heartfelt words that he and Morgana were once friends, Mordred turns on Morgana and to save Arthur. It’s this action that welcomes Mordred into the Knights of the Round Table.

In spite of their bumpy history, Mordred believed Arthur’s intentions to be true and was very loyal to him. However, all good things must come to an end, and the scabbarb’s corruption of Arthur changed their relationship drastically.

Arthur knew not of Mordred’s magical ability. As such, his conquest for all things magic left Mordred quite uneasy. Though he strived to stay by the king’s side, he did not feel very safe. He ‘disappeared’ a little while after King Arthur’s corruption on a mission, and did not return until after Sonic’s reveal of being the one true King Arthur.

Facts:

Has magical abilities, but doesn’t use them in front of other people.

Unlike Mephiles, Mordred CAN be mortally wounded in this au; he CAN be killed.

Also has a mouth.

Actually has positive interactions with people. Although Arthur has sullied his views of those who claim to care for those of magic and the kingdom, he is pushing himself to put faith in Sonic a second time. Still not revealing to anyone he’s magic, but Merlina is very much aware.

Tame and levelheaded in personality, has a silver tongue. Despite seeming quite open and friendly with his fellow knights, he tends to keep to himself. Does things by the book, with the occasional bend. He’s the guy you have to drag somewhere to have fun.

Loyal to a fault, King Arthur’s corruption being that exception.

Has a friend by the name of Aedus, who Mordred believed to be dead in the first raid of his camp. Aedus is destructive and does not approve of Arthur or Sonic, believing their intentions to be false and that Mordred should not put faith in them. Aedus plays a pivotal part in triggering Mordred’s betrayal and murder of Sonic.

He wields a blade by the name of Aithusa.

TBA.

[realtacuardach]

Breath of Life (Obiyuki Kissathon)

This is my first entry for the Obiyuki Kissathon, hosted by snowwhite-andtheknight! The prompt was a “from death” kiss. Thanks to the Obiyuki discord, especially jhalya and sabraeal for their help! Enjoy!

***

"Incredible," Zen marvelled, his breath clouding in front of him as he leaned back in the stirrups and gave Shirayuki an admiring look. "To fuse seed and stone until the plant is no longer poisonous, but a beacon!"

Shirayuki shook her hair out of her eyes, feeling the brush of her ornament's tassels against her flushed cheeks. "Well, I can be stubborn as stone myself, I wasn't about to give up and let everyone down. And I had lots of help - Suzu and Yuzuri and Ryuu and Obi…"

Her voice trailed off a little in thought, and Zen smirked before nudging his horse's flank against hers. "I'm losing you, Shirayuki."

She straightened up, her flush bright enough to stand out against the redness brought by the harsh winds. "I'm here, I'm here!" She shot him a playful glare. "And I'm hardly yours to lose anymore. How is Kihal?"

Zen flushed in a gratifying way. "Kihal's fine - although she was sad to miss the chance to visit you. But she couldn't leave the messenger bird trainings."

"I thought that was you, your highness," Kiki wryly commented from atop her steed, "you certainly have spent a lot of time looking out at the training sessions." Her eyebrows raised and the corner of her lips lifted as Mitsuhide appeared to oscillate between amusement and scandal.

Scandal was appearing to win out, and Mitsuhide was opening his mouth to interject when a snowball hurtled out of the trees and struck him squarely in the shoulder. Only his experience in horsemanship kept him upright, and he leveled a righteous glare into the surrounding forest. "Obi!"

The only response was another snowball, this one hitting him in the center of his forehead. As Mitsuhide sputtered and started scrubbing out the snow embedded in his hair, Kiki reached for her sword, placing her scabbard in front of her face protectively as her eyes skimmed the woods. Obi apparently valued his life more than the chance to surprise attack her, as his next snowball whizzed nearly past Zen's ear, painting the tree trunk near him in a splatter of white.

"Obi!" Zen called, his attempt at sounding stern undermined by the undercurrent of laughter in his voice. "Get down here!"

Obi smoothly descended from the trees, landing in a crouched bow in front of them, and looked up at his master with a toothy grin stretching from ear to ear.

Zen shook his head wryly, grinning back at the sight of his immediate knight and friend. "Is that the best way to greet your fellow knights?"

If anything, Obi's grin broadened. "Keeps me in practice, Master. And keeps Mitsuhide on his toes!"

Zen laughed, the sudden tension draining from his shoulders as he relaxed into the saddle; beside him, Shirayuki let out a quiet sigh of relief. It was a blessedly nostalgic feeling to see Obi teasing his master - it was an occurrence that hadn't been seen for the past few months. Obi had taken the dissolution of the romance between second prince and herbalist even harder than the two themselves, for some reason that he had never told her. Although he had treated Shirayuki much the same as ever, albeit with a delicacy for the first few weeks that was better suited to handling fragile seedlings, Zen had experienced what it was like to deal with an Obi who was all business. He had done his job and done it well when his services had been required, but that was the only time he would interact with Zen. Gone was the teasing and quips; the immediate knight's words were short, clipped, and to the point, and then he would vanish with a brisk nod until summoned again.

Zen had tried to be understanding, but his dismay and uneasiness about the situation could easily be read between the lines of any correspondence between him and Shirayuki. In a way, she knew that Obi was just being protective and she appreciated the steadfastness of her friend; however, she wished he could understand that she herself felt that it was for the best. Zen would always be her first love, but the two had grown, both together and apart, to find that their friendship felt more right than pursuing a romance which had cooled and dissolved with the passage of time.

At last, she could see her friends all interact without a blade of sorrow stabbing her in the stomach. And, with Zen, Mitsuhide, and Kiki so far away most of the year, their times together were rarer and even more precious to her than before. She would stomach the sorrow if it meant seeing it, but it was a relief to have it gone.

Obi fell into step beside their horses in his usual controlled lope, the leather of his uniform creaking in time with the horses' hoofbeats in a way that was familiar and comforting.

"Where's your horse, Obi?" Mitsuhide asked.

"Back in the stables."

Zen's attendant clicked his tongue in disapproval. "You really should have it with you on patrol," he said, "it helps when you need to get quickly about the perimeter."

Midori, a new guard just out of Obi's training sessions that had been riding a few lengths behind the others, almost fell off his horse in his eagerness to come forward. "Sir Obi, you can use mi-"

Obi held up a hand and shook his head with a smile. "Not necessary, Midori." He looked up at Mitsuhide. "And when you know how to ride a horse on fortress walls, I'm all ears. Otherwise, it's quicker for me to - "

His words cut off suddenly, and his head suddenly moved to the side with the sharpness of a hawk scouting out its prey. His muscles grew languid as he looked around, before coiling like a panther about to pounce.

Zen frowned, looking around himself. "Obi, what is - "

The next few seconds were a blur. Without preamble, Obi leapt into the air, a flash of black leather and tanned skin as he passed before his master and mistress and towards the trees. The telltale twang of an arrow being loosed plucked the air and Obi's hand closed in a fist as he landed in the snow. "Archer!" He growled as he took off towards the trees, feet barely touching the ground as Mitsuhide and Kiki swiftly dismounted and followed afterwards, with the new guard enthusiastically if belatedly trailing behind them.

Zen, never one to sit back and let others fight his battles for him, swung down and hooked his horse's reins on a nearby tree branch. "Stay here," he cautioned the herbalist before disappearing into the woods.

And Shirayuki, never one for following orders when she felt she could be more of use disregarding them, slid off her mount and checked to make sure her ever present satchel was secured to her waist. She gave the horse a reassuring pat on the nose before making her own way towards the others.

She found them at a tall tree, Zen and his attendants surrounding the trunk and glaring up like hunting dogs who had treed their quarry. The quarry in question was a young man who already looked somewhat worse for wear, his clothing disheveled, a swelling already forming at the corner of his jaw, and his quiver dangling from his shoulder by a torn leather strap. He looked like he was about to faint; the only thing keeping him upright was Obi's tight grip on his shoulder as the knight leaned against the trunk, his other hand clamped on his own upper arm.

Obi crooked his head in question to his comrades down below, who responded with a decisive nod. He coughed before saying with a levity that didn't match the steel in his eyes, "Looks like there's only room up here for one of us. And you're not supposed to be here, anyway, so…out you get."

And then he let the archer go.

It was only a few feet to fall, and the snow was lightly packed so it was cushion enough, but the archer still had the breath knocked out of him as he attempted to stand before Mitsuhide's imposing stance encouraged him to stay still.

"Who are you?" Zen asked the man who had begun to manage a defiant grimace.

"Just a simple archer," he spat, "what is the meaning of this?"

"Why were you shooting at us?" Zen persisted.

The man shrugged. "I guess my hand slipped. I certainly wasn't trying to shoot anyone here, your highness."

Mitsuhide stepped forward. "You don't seem to have anything to keep your catch in, no bag or cords."

A tinge of nervousness appeared in the archer's eyes before he blinked it away. "I'm something of a novice, this is the first time I've gone out hunting."

A tongue clicked up in the tree branches, and they looked up to see Obi shaking his head mockingly down at the archer. "Don't sell yourself short," he interjected, holding the arrows and quiver in one hand while he examined them closely, "this quiver's got some good wear on it, and these arrows certainly look like they were made by someone with experience…" He took the hand from his upper arm, and the dark smears of blood on his palm made Shirayuki's heart stutter. Smoothly, he took the arrows in both hands before snapping them in half. "Oops."

The archer groaned as Obi dropped the quiver and splintered arrows in the snow.

"Couldn't have done that riding a horse," he mused casually, which was met with a snort from Mitsuhide.

Obi then swung himself down onto the ground, his boots landing right in front of the group, sending snow into the stranger's face. The archer flinched back while Shirayuki flinched forward at the sight on the dark stain growing on his armor, spreading from where the arrow had pierced him.

"Obi!" she gasped, stepping forward as her hands reached for her satchel.

He wrenched the arrow out and looked at it with distaste. "I'm fine, Miss," he assured her, "just losing my touch. I used to be able to catch those." He held up his hand so the others could see the line scored through the palm of his glove from the arrow's flight, a red line already beginning to well up. "It barely hit me, but still. I'm getting fat and lazy, how am I going to get the guards to listen to me now?"

Given that the one guard present looked about ready to faint in awe, Shirayuki didn't feel he had much to worry about in that regard.

"We should go," Kiki said, "he may not have been working alone, and we have more resources to persuade him up at the fortress." Her face gave nothing away, and the archer's face paled. Mitsuhide wrenched him to his feet and secured his wrists behind him. Obi gently shook off Shirayuki's attempts to examine or dress the wounds.

"They'll keep until we get inside," he grinned good-naturedly, "and then you can unleash little Ryuu and all the other herbalists on me."

Shirayuki gave in reluctantly, if only to speed up the process so they could return to the pharmacy for proper assessment and treatment. Obi walked behind the rest, keeping watch for any other movements that would give the presence of potential accomplices away. She turned back a few times to check on him, but only got a cheeky wave and grin in response. So she swallowed the persistent feeling that something was wrong and focused on the return trip, letting the familiar cadence of his footsteps calm her frazzled nerves.

Her mind froze for a moment before thoughts began to hurtle past at dizzying speed. She shouldn't be able to hear them here.

In the fortress, in town, in the castle back at Wilant,  the steady clip of his boots striking the floor was a familiar sound that at times provided her with a great deal of comfort. But she wasn't used to hearing it outside, where he could perch on stone walls, jump from branch to branch, or track through grass or leaves or snow with the silence of a shadow.  She shouldn't have been able to hear him.

She felt a bolt of unease, which only intensified as the brisk, efficient pace began to sound much slower and heavier. She couldn’t keep herself from turning as his steps began to loudly crunch behind her, and the bolt became a stabbing fear.

The increasingly loud and belligerent complaints of the archer had drowned out the sounds of Obi’s breathing, but with her eyes focusing on him with clinical scrutiny, she tuned out all other sounds. Shirayuki winced at the pinched look his eyes had taken as his mouth gaped almost laughingly wide, the air whistling in and out of his mouth in shuddering gasps. She gripped her reins hard and pulled her steed into a stop, just like he’d taught her. “Obi?”

Obi raised up a hand to reassure her. “Don’t worry, Miss, I’m - “

And then he dropped into the snow, his limbs splayed out like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

“Obi!” She screamed, and the others turned in shock as she nearly fell off the horse trying to get down.

“Sir!” Midori cried equally loudly, rushing over to Shirayuki’s side just in time to help her turn Obi over, to expose his mouth and nose to the air.

“We need help,” Shirayuki said, pulling her satchel in front of her, “Midori, go to the pharmacy and bring back a stretcher.”

She was never more grateful for their respective trainings, in hers for her ability to give clear directions despite emotional duress, and in his for his ability to swiftly follow them.

Snow kicked up from the horse’s hooves as Midori rushed the remainder of the way to the university. The others rushed over, paying no heed to the whining of their prisoner as he was dragged along.

Zen took in the figure of his fallen friend, a gleam of fear in his eyes before it reforged into steel. He glared daggers at the man now being forced to the ground at his feet. “What was on the arrow?”

The archer narrowed his eyes in response. “I don’t know what you - “

Zen’s sword sang as he pulled it from his scabbard, and the grips of his retainers on the enemy’s shoulders tightened until their knuckles were white. “Spare us your lies - what have you done to my knight?”

The archer looked around, and was met with fire in Mitsuhide’s eyes and stone in Kiki’s. He swallowed and slumped. “You might as well say your goodbyes.”

“What?”

“The arrows were poisoned at the tip, and I wasn’t given any antidote.” He looked up at Zen with malice. “We weren’t planning on taking prisoners.”

Zen lunged forward with a growl and Mitsuhide blocked him, giving his liege a look and shaking his head. The prince relaxed, somewhat unwillingly, and took a deep breath.

“Luckily for you,” the archer felt the sting of steel against his throat and looked up at Kiki`s unyielding stance and blade, “we do. Although how lucky you are remains to be seen.” Mitsuhide joined her and placed his blade at the other side of the man’s neck.

Zen stood in front and glared down. “What. Poison. Did you use?”

Shirayuki had been listening to all that was going on behind her, as she checked on Obi’s state. Her fingers felt for his pulse (slowing considerably and distressingly thready) and hovered over his mouth to feel the breeze of his breaths. She didn’t let her hand tremble as she pulled the leather away from the arrow wound in his arm and the score on his palm. No infection that she could see…

“Poison,” she whispered as she scrambled around for a moment, trying to find the quiver where Obi had dropped it when he fell. She pulled out a broken arrow, the blasted arrowhead blessedly intact, and examined it carefully. The poison came off on her gloves and she sniffed tentatively. “No smell…”

“I don’t know,” the archer spat, “something to do with frogs.”

“Frogs,” Shirayuki repeated to herself, and shut her eyes and tried to remember if she had seen anything like that in her books. Her heart froze as her mind focused on a page that she remembered Yuzuri showing her. “Curare.”

She could hear the rush of people from the university as Obi sagged into the snow completely.

…

The rush back to the clinic and the pharmacy was a blur for Shirayuki. Between the other herbalists and the onslaught of guards, Obi was quickly swept onto a stretcher and borne to the warmth of the clinic.

Yuzuri ran out to meet them and began jogging besides Shirayuki. “What happened?”

Shirayuki panted beside her. “He’s been shot. With curare. I need the catspaw you brought back from your last trip.” She came to the split in the halls where she had to go one way for the greenhouses and other for the clinic, and dithered a moment. She didn’t want to leave him, but -

Yuzuri shoved her towards the clinic. “Go,” she barked, fear making her voice brisk, “I’ll get the catspaw. You get to your man.”

Despite the urgency of the situation, Shirayuki stumbled, her cheeks burning hot. He's not my -

But Yuzuri was already gone, and out of the corner of her eye she could see the stretcher making its way towards the clinic. She broke into a run and nearly crashed into the clinic doorway. Ryuu looked up where he was setting up bowls and pestles on the nearest table, a cluster of trainees hovering nearby.

“I heard what he was poisoned with,” he said plainly, “and I thought I had better be ready. You can observe,” he continued flatly as he looked towards the trainees, “when we’re finished. This will be a delicate procedure.”

The trainees filed out quickly, and Shirayuki looked at the master herbalist and felt her heart sink at the stress building up between his eyes. She walked over and squeezed his arm. “We can do this. Obi is strong, and we know how to help him.” Ryuu let the corner of his mouth tilt upwards before it sank back into a pensive frown. Somehow the comfort didn’t feel complete without Obi following it with an arm slung around their shoulders.

“Here’s Sir Obi!” Midori yelled as he ran into the room ahead of the other guards carrying the stretcher.

“And I have the catspaw!” Yuzuri shouted as she ran after them, her fist lifted in triumph.

Shirayuki clapped her hands together once. “Let’s get to it.”

As the pounding of pestles started behind her, she took it upon herself to peel away his glove and torn sleeve for easier access to the wounds. A sick feeling pooled in the pit of her stomach as her hands ran over the muscles of his arm that were now relaxed to the point of near stillness. He shouldn’t look like this.

She swallowed hard and began cleaning the skin around the wounds, keeping an ear on the progress of the catspaw poultices. The sleeve kept rolling back over the arm wound and, in a fit of frustration, she ripped the cloth back to the point where pieces came off in her hand.

Oh, she admonished herself weakly, he really likes this shirt.

If you wanted my clothes off so badly, Miss, she could almost hear him saying, all you had to do was ask.

Shirayuki continued to clean the skin, willing herself not to be undone by how badly she wanted him to be awake and saying that to her. A mortar was stuck in front of her and she blinked up at Ryuu.

“We ground the catspaw,” he said, “does it look ready?”

He would know as well as she that it was, but she appreciated what he was doing. She nodded and smeared a liberal does on a bandage before plastering it on his arm, Ryuu moving in sync to wrap the arrow score for safe measure.

“And now we wait?” Shirayuki asked, one hand gripping Obi’s wrist to check his pulse while the other brushed the hair dripping with snowmelt out of his face.

Ryuu pulled up a chair and stared intently at their wounded knight. “Yeah.”

Time passed painfully slowly, although it should really have been just a few moments, as the two kept vigil. Shirayuki kept the twin heartbeats of hers and Obi’s pulsing at the back of her mind, as she wondered what the others had gotten out of the archer. Were they safe? Did they need to grind more catspaw in case of another attack? Where were they? Why wasn’t Obi waking up?

His pulse pushed more and more slowly against her thumb, and she counted under her breath the moments between them. It kept her mind steady and focused when all she could do was monitor the situation and wait. She turned to ask Ryuu to check outside the window to see if anything else had happened when she froze. She wasn’t feeling anything.

“Obi?” She held her hand above his mouth. Nothing. She drew her hairpin from behind her ear and held it over his face, watching the tassels for movement. Nothing. Her heart stopped.

His heart wasn't beating.

"Ryuu!" She barked, and the younger herbalist jolted in his chair. "He's not breathing, and I can't find a pulse." She rolled up her sleeves and climbed up on the bed beside him. "I'm going to start compressions, go get help!"

Ryuu ran out of the room so quickly that his chair overturned. Shirayuki could hear his steps and shouts fading away, but turned them out as she fell into the rhythm of compressions.

Sweat dripped down past her ears as she felt the impact of his muscles and sternum reverberating in her shoulders. He was supple and strong, and she hoped she wouldn't crack his bones. If he had to be bedridden because of this, she would never hear the end of it.

Oh, I'm easy to get into bed, Miss.

She leaned down. One breath, two breaths.

This wasn't right. Obi wasn't supposed to be like this. She had felt the muscles of his chest against her several times over the years they'd spent together, whether it was when he caught her if she stumbled, or when she'd leaned against him to avoid the bustle of a hectic, crowded town square. He was warm and strong and always ready to spring into action. Now he was limp and cold and -

She leaned down. One breath, two breaths.

She missed his warmth. The warmth of his corded muscles that made her feel so safe. The warmth of his ready smirks and smiles when she needed to see them most. The warmth in his eyes when he regarded her, especially when he didn't realize she was looking. The warmth that she had only recently realized filled her heart to overflowing when she saw him -

She leaned down, blinking back tears. One breath, two breaths.

"Please," she whispered as she resumed compressions, the tips of her fingers growing icy as the fear stabbed her heart. "Please, Obi…"

He didn't answer. He had never ignored her before, even when he'd felt brave enough and secure enough in their relationship to have disagreements.

She leaned down, her lips trembling against his. One breath, two breaths.

"Please!"

She resumed compressions, although she could barely see now. The trained professional in her knew that she was fatiguing rapidly and was emotionally compromised, and that for Obi's sake, she needed for someone to relieve her soon. But...she could not bear to let go of him.

She stopped a moment to catch her breath. Her arms were quivering and her compressions were becoming irregular, which was not in Obi's best interest. Her hand felt for his pulse, and found nothing.

"Obi," she whispered, longing to curl up into him and to wake up from this nightmare, "please don't leave me."

She shook the tears from her eyes and steeled her shoulders again to resume pounding his chest when she felt something stirring beneath her palms. She leaned back in surprise and looked at his face, his eyes still closed. She grabbed his wrist, paused for a torturous moment - and then nearly fainted with relief at the weak but steady rhythm beneath her fingers.

Shirayuki slumped forward, resting her head on his chest to hear that blessed beat for herself. His chest rose and fell for a few seconds before he began to cough, causing her to bolt upright. “Obi! You’re awake!”

Obi’s eyes opened just enough for her to see the glint of gold, and he smiled weakly. “‘Course. I couldn’t leave you, Miss.”

Relief and joy coursed through her in a rejuvenating rush, leaving her feeling almost as intoxicated as Roka fruit liquor. The relief was so great, that she leaned forward and, against all medical and rational knowledge regarding a patient recovering from respiratory and cardiac arrest -

Kissed him.

Obi let out an involuntary gasp as Shirayuki nearly fell on top of him, but his heart beat strong - if not a little fast - against her palm as she leaned down. The medical veneer having been discarded now that he was safe, she let her senses flood her as she brought her lips down to meet his. His mouth, windburned and slightly chapped at the top by the harsh Lyrias winters, felt warm and right and perfect against hers. He grunted a little as her nose crashed into his but she didn’t care, her heart jumping as her top lip slid between his. She retracted back apologetically. “I’m so sorry,” she murmured, brushing her hand across his face.

Then her sense came back and she yanked herself away, color flaming in her cheeks. “Oh, Obi, I’m so sorry!”

Obi grinned up at her as he gasped for air. “You take...my breath away, Miss.”

Really, if he hadn’t been recovering she would have smacked him. She pulled herself back further, hiding her face in her hands.

“Hey,” his voice gentled as he pushed himself up on one elbow. She was so spellbound by the look in his eyes that she didn’t notice his hand winding its way through the tendrils of her hair at the back of her neck. “It’s okay. Besides,” he grinned cheekily as he brought her head closer, “I didn’t say I didn’t like it.”

Shirayuki’s eyes widened. Then she blushed as she let herself sink down as he pulled her slowly back towards him. Tears sprang to her eyes as the look of naked adoration in his gaze as he craned up to meet her, sealing their lips together. Although she and Zen had kissed many times over their relationship, this was beyond any sensation Shirayuki had ever known. Their hearts beat in unison, and everything was heat and fire and a feeling like coming home.

They separated for air, and she traced her fingers across his cheek, his jaw, the scar over his eye, revelling in the feeling of warmth and life. For his part, he appeared to have run out of energy to do more than lay back and purr under her ministrations like a contented housecat.

“I thought I was going to lose you,” she whispered.

“Never,” he promised, “I’m yours as long as you want me.”

She was about to show that statement the kind of appreciation it deserved, in lieu of the words her heart was too full to speak yet, when the door creaked behind them.

“Is that really,” Suzu asked from the doorway, “the best way to treat respiratory - ugh!”

“Stop ruining the moment!” Yuzuri scolded, removing her elbow from his side. “We waited too long for this! Speaking of which,” she held out her hand, “pay up.”

The next few moments were filled with the sounds of grumbling and gold changing hands. However, the two on the cot were too occupied to care.

***

I hope you enjoyed!

[thestarwrites]

City of God part II (Finan x OC)

Fic Summary: Finan the Agile meets a Celt-Saxon woman, and for once he can’t think of anything else. Now that the two are increasingly interested, will Finan finally ask her to supper?

Part Two

Rating: PG-13

Please don’t plagiarize! And I s2g if I have to post this part for a fourth time I’m gonna cry.

Also I wanted to share this with some other Finan fans I’ve noticed!

@nxrdist @joyofbebbanburg @medievalfangirl @bookworm925 @buckysskye @jcalpha1

word count: 2,995

Most all of Finans interactions with Urlworth’s daughter for a few weeks were innocuous glances, small conversations, he intended to ask her to supper, however every time he couldn’t find the words. They were only brief acquaintances, until one very early spring day while she was in the courtyard of her father’s forge, sharpening her sword.

The Irishman grinned, watching the girl for a while, she knew what she was doing. It was as Thyra had been told, she knew and practiced sword-art. To a West Saxon like her father, or the King, or any other man for that manner, this would be strange. Why would a young girl be practicing with a sword instead of marrying and being a house wife. But Finan understood. The blood of the Celts. Irish women were strong, independent, had a knowledge of medicine and were often strange.

Once he had watched her fondly for a good while, he finally spoke, his tone low and warm as the early spring sun, “D’ya know how ta use dat t’ing, my Angel? Or are ye jus’ strokin’ it fer want of a man?”

Her eyes darted upward, seeing the dark Irishman. The man she fancied, and whom Thyra said was mad for her, though she didn’t believe her. Standing, holding the sword up, she smirked, “Care to find out, Irishman?” Finan grinned, drawing his own sword, “Ye’ve always been a lass with spirit, I like tha’.” Her cheeks flushed as she took a sword-fighting stance, their blades clanging against one another in sparing readiness, “Do not underestimate me.” “Nor should you, me.” He grinned wider, “And wha’ do I get for winnin’ this little duel, my Lady?” “And how do you know you’ll win?” He just grinned. “What would you like?” Finan couldn’t stand the playful banter, “How ‘bout a kiss?” He threatened to burst into flame right there from how he felt, how he longed for this woman before him, this beautiful wild thing. He had a mission, finally ask her to supper. Then, ask her for the chance to court her— “Oi! What’s going on out here!” Urlworth called out as he came lumbering from his forge, “Kelly— who is this? What is the meaning of this?” She sighed and smiled, setting her sword to the ground with a look of exasperation, “This is Lord Uhtred’s man, a friend of mine, Finan the Agile. We were just messing about, papa.” “A fierce and brave young lass ye have here, Lord Urlworth! Tis true- I am Finan.” He bowed low, “And I have come fer those swords tha my Lord Uhtred asked the King for.” “Of course.” He grunted and went back into the forge to retrieve them. Finan grinned and chuckled, “Yer brave girl, I’ll give ye that. Yer stance needs some work, and ye need more trainin’ holdin’ up yer blade.” He cleared his throat, “And on top a’ tha’ yer all covered in soot, I can barely see if yer beauty still remains.” Gasping she huffed and went to move toward him with her sword, swinging it clumsily- he laughed and jumped back- and suddenly Urlworth was in view again, “Here you are, Finan. Didn’t expect to have someone collect these til next week, but they’re done all the same. Give my regards to Lord Uhtred and his new wife Lady Gisela.” He smiled. “Yes, Lord. I surely will.” “Papa?” He turned his head at the sound of his daughter’s voice, “May I accompany Finan to Lord Uhtred’s town estate? I have been meaning to visit Abbess Hild. I have heard she is with him.” He shrugged, “Sure, I don’t see why not— just try and stay out of trouble, hear?” “Yes Papa.” She smiled and turned to Finan, “Shall we go?” Finan smirked, “Yes, Lady.” Another chance. “I will be back probably after dark, papa.” He nodded again, “Aye, make sure ye don’t walk back alone.” “Oh she won’t, sir. I will make sure personally tha she gets home safe an sound.” The man smiled a bit and nodded, “Thank you, Finan.” He turned and headed back to the forge, “Have fun, child!” Kelly turned to set her sword in its scabbard, setting it in the shed. “Come on, girl.” Finan called with a grin. As the two walked down the road, Finan’s horse was carrying the load of parcels, they walked in silence for a while before the Irishman spoke again with a grin, “Why pick now ta visit Hild?” “I just wish to see my friend. And I want to know what possessed you suddenly to ask me such a disgusting question.” She smirked. He smirked in return, “T’wasn’t t’at disgustin’ — I mean, I was right wasn’ I? Yer in want of a man?” He bounced his eyebrows. Scoffing she rolled her eyes, “I am in want of nothing, Irishman.” “Oh sure. Cooped up in tha’ King’s own palace all the time, sayin’ prayers, readin’ books, I heard tale of a wild Celtic lass, who rode horses fast as tha’ wind- sword at her side, boltin’ through tha’ countryside, hair full of grass, layin’ around daydreamin and pickin’ flowers… Stop me at any time girl.” He smirked. Kelly had stopped in the street, mouth agape, and Finan kept walking, “Yer fallin’ behind, lass!” Jogging, holding her dress up, she fell back into step, “How do you—“ “Tyra has told Uhtred all about her new best friend.” He shrugged, “Many a man in Coccham would love ta bed a lady like tha’. How old are ye anyhow?” Her cheeks were red, “I’m twenty.” She huffed, “And I suppose Lord Uhtred delights in spreading his sister’s business around?” “When he’s go’ a score a’ women-hungry men… and he finds a wild, high spirited woman out in his travels? A woman who could keep up with his men? Yeah. And I’m twenty five.” He smiled, “I like an accomplished girl.” “Keep dreaming.” She huffed, crossing her arms as she walked with him. He stopped, stooping low to her ear, “I’ll keep dreamin’ every night of your soft skin on mine… just as you dream of freedom, an’ wind in yer hair, and a man inside ye.” Pulling back, there was a big smirk on his face. She slapped him, cheeks bright red, storming ahead of him down the street toward Uhtred’s home. She was mostly embarrassed because he was right. And then man she dreamt of was whispering in her ear. “What spirit.” He grinned dazed, touching his cheek, looking up at the sky, he touched his cross, “Let her fall fer me, Lord.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hild stroked Kelly’s hair and laughed, “What did he say to you! You all fired up!” She tried to soothe the Celtic-Saxon as best she could. She had walked into the home minutes before Finan who had to stable his horse, “Its Finan, he’s harmless. Come on now.” She looked up at the Abbess, with big frightened blue eyes, “He stooped to whisper in my ear,” Looking away she covered her face, “He said he would dream of my soft skin against his.” Hild raised her brows, “What else did he say?!” “He said… that I dream of freedom, and wind in my hair—“ Kelly took a deep breath, “And a man inside of me.” “He said what!” She hissed. Shaking her head she looked up, “I’ve never felt this way.” The Abbess raised her eyebrows, “Oh my. This IS serious.” “It was so WILDLY inappropriate but…” “For the record,” Hild interrupted, “Finan is one of the most honorable men I have ever known. He has seen horrible things, experienced four years of torture at the oar— and more that he won’t tell. He uses his humor as a shield, I think, but he is a wonderful, Godly man.” “Don’t talk about him as if he is to be my husband!” Kelly huffed. Hild smirked, “I think you’ve already thought of being his wife.” “He said lewd things!” “He has been pressing Uhtred and I for details about you night and day. He has been fawning over you! He was SUPPOSED to ask you to dinner tonight, actually- but I assume, he did not.” The girl blinked, “He WHAT!” All Hild could do was laugh, “He— He’s been—“ She covered her face once more, “He doesn’t even know me!” “And you don’t know him- but I have seen the glances across halls and across streets for months.” The Abbess nodded, “So what happened next?” “I slapped the Irishman.” She bit her lip. Hild laughed hard, holding out her hand and standing, “Come. We must inform Uhtred of this at once! Kelly the Celt! Slapping Finan the Agile! Warrior of Ireland!” She continued to laugh as Kelly blushed harder and took her hand, walking into the bigger hall, “Lord!” Uhtred looked up from where he was talking to his wife and he smiled, “Abbess- Miss Kelly, hello! When did you arrive!” “She just arrived with your fool of a man, Finan!” Uhtred looked over, and Finan kept his eyes down at the sword he was sharpening, ears darkening slightly, “I see.” He smirked, “Please- come and sit down- it is wonderful to see you again.” “And you, Lord.” She smiled bashfully, turning to Gisela, “And you, Lady Gisela.” Gisela smiled and chuckled to herself, “So- Am I right to assume Finan finally asked—” “— ABOUT THE SWORDS HER FATHER WAS WORKING ON, YES.” Finan shouted far too loudly. Everyone stared at him a moment. Shitric was overcome with fits of laughter, “Shut it! Shitric I swear I will cut out yer tongue!” “Honestly, Irishman.” Kelly chuckled, “Calm down.” The Irishman looked up at her for the first time since she’d slapped him. His soulful brown eyes betrayed him. He looked lost, helpless, vulnerable. He snapped to her obediently, as if he was already her beloved. After a few moments lost in each other, Finan sighed and looked back down. He stood and walked over to an alcove fire pit, feeling sorry for himself. He thought he would never court the beautiful woman. He was too afraid of hurting her, of being hurt. Kelly watched him. Her hands clasped to her chest. Gisela smiled and placed her hand on Kelly’s arm, “Dear, would you bring this plate of food to Finan? There is enough for you both.” She took the platter with bread, meat and cheese, still frozen in place. Hild nudged her, “Go on.” Once she spurred Kelly to movement, the nun went and sat with Uhtred, recanting the story to him; “He mentioned how she must be in want of a man… in so many words— and she SLAPPED him!” Hild laughed, Gisela held her husband’s hand tight as she also laughed. The thought of his oath-man being slapped by a woman was hysterical. Just the kind of woman Finan needed, “But- she also has said she has never felt this way about a man.” “I knew it.” Uhtred spoke lowly to her and Gisela, “I knew she fancied him— she always looks for him when I arrive in the palace, or on the street. I catch them sharing a soul gaze often. Connected.” “But we shouldn’t push it, darling.” Gisela warned. “No. no.” Hild urged, “Let them come to it.” Uhtred put up a hand, “Relax, ladies. Finan is my brother. He deserves to be as happy as I am. I won’t ruin this chance for him— besides— he can ruin it himself.” He laughed.

Nestled down in an alcove, lit only by a fire pit, Finan sat in silence, feeling sorry for himself, feeling he looked less a man in front of the girl. “Finan?” Her voice was like angels singing, “I’ve brought something for us to eat.” Looking up at her he smiled half-heartedly and motioned for her to sit, “Hey— I am sorry what I said to ye, it was rude.” She smiled bashfully, shrugging, “You were sort of right.” “I was?” He looked up at her in earnest. Nodding, Kelly sighed, “I do long for freedom, for wind in my hair, along with other things. I long for passion, for kinship. For intimacy.” He swallowed, “Intimacy.” Looking up at him she took a deep breath, trying to change the subject, “Finan? Were you ever married? You’re too handsome to have never been married.” “Ye t’ink I’m handsome?” He grinned, pushing his hand over his newly cropped hair, “As rough around tha edges as I am?” “I’ve heard you looked rougher…” Kelly laughed softly, “You didn’t answer my question.” Finan smirked and sighed, “Yes. Once upon a time, lass, I was.” “What happened?” She moved a bit closer to him, putting her hand on his. The irishman took her hand and moved his fingers over her soft skin, lost in thought for a long while before he spoke, “It’s no’ important, girl, it's in the past.” “Finan.” Kelly said softly, her fingers meeting and running over his. Finan shrugged, “Maybe someday I’ll wan’ ta talk about it.” He pulled her hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss on her inner-wrist, “But no’ today.” He smiled sadly, “All I want anyone ta know is I was sold ta slavery.  Where two years into my world ‘a torment, I met Uhtred.” The girl just watched him as he continued to pepper kisses on her hand and wrist, “My wife was a miserable thing anyway- beautiful, bu’ no joy.” He took her other hand, kissing it, “You, my lady, are like a faery queen. Full o’ charm and laughter and spirit.” The woman flushed harder, finally taking her hands from his,  to touch his face- raising his head so he looked at her, “I feel like I’ve known you, in another life.” He smiled, “Maybe ye have,” Leaning against her touch, he smiled, closing his eyes, “I want to know if ye’ll have dinner wit’ me sometime? Jus you an me?” She nodded gently, “I’d like that.” He grinned, “Jus’ like tha? I’ve been tryin ta ask ye for weeks,” turning his face to look at her again, “Yer beautiful, did ye know tha’?” Her cheeks flushed bright red, “Thank you.” She laughed. Moving his hands to her face and thigh he smiled, running a thumb over her lips, “I can’t describe how ye make me feel.” “Nor I.” She whispered, heart pounding. Finan leaned in— “Getting late don’t you think?” Gisela interrupted, jolting Kelly and Finan from their trance, “Uhtred and I are getting ready to go to bed. The abbess and the others have already gone to bed,” she chuckled. “O-oh! I’m so sorry Lady!" Kelly stammered. She smiled, “Oh no no… not at all, Gods forbid I interrupt something so beautiful as this.” Gisela motioned between them, “But I don’t want your parents to worry.” Kelly nodded with a small smile, “Thank you for your hospitality, Lady Gisela.” She held out her hands and the women embraced, “Come any time.” Finan cleared his throat, “Shall I walk ye home, Lady?” Turning she blushed and smiled, “Kelly.” She insisted. He grinned again, “Shall I walk ye home, Kelly.” “Yes, Finan, you may.”

~~~~~~~

She’d bid farewell to her friends, hugging Uhtred and then Gisela once more, waving to the others who were still awake outside, wanting to get to know these cheerful Saxons and Danes more thoroughly. Finan led her out into the street, and offered his arm. Kelly took it. Finan grinned like the proudest man in the world, laying his hand over her own. Once at the gate to her family’s section adjoining the palace she smiled, “Thank you for walking me home.” She said softly. “My pleasure, my girl.” He said with a wink. “Oh now I’m your girl?” She raised an eyebrow. Finan just shrugged and pushed a strand of her hair back, “I very much would like ta kiss ye now, if I may?” She blushed and looked up at him, it was the same intense stare they’d shared in many an occasion they had the opportunity to be so close. A small nod was all it took, and just like that, he claimed her lips. The two of them kissed with slow, burning passion, his hands pulling her close, sinking in her hair, and cupping her face. Her own clutching the front of his tunic. She felt things she’d never indulged herself to feel before, blood pumping through her veins. The only thing she knew in that moment was her Irishman, the rock upon which the waves of her longing crashed. The kisses were semi-open mouthed, but Finan kept them relatively chaste. He didn’t dare try and take more than he should someone so innocent. Pulling back for some needed air, Finan was giving a lopsided grin, “Wow.” Kelly flushed and she pushed her face into his shoulder, feeling slightly overwhelmed, “Ye ever kissed anyone before, girl?” Looking up she shook her head, looking slightly afraid, “Was it bad?” He laughed quietly and kissed her lips once more, “No, Lady, yer a natural.” She smiled a little, “I hope it will suffice to show you… how I feel.” Finan smiled and leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead softly, his beard tickling her fair skin, “More than you know,” He said softly into her ear, pulling back, “Goodnight, my angel. I’ll call on ye again tomorrow, yeah?” Nodding she smiled, “Until tomorrow.” She said softly and watched until he slipped back into the darkness.

She smiled brightly and put a hand on her lips- not knowing it would be the last time she would see him, Uhtred, Sihtric, or Gisela for a few years.

[aromancva]

27 december 2022: brühl

her nose is twitching from the lavender she can smell on herself, soaking hadn’t untightened the muscles of her neck. she’d kneaded the cord above her shoulder, weight of her skull hefted on a thumb. this time, she’d asked him for tea, something with chamomile, a trust that if he thought there was more she would benefit from, she would allow.

his knuckles are digging pressure into the knots she cannot seem to keep at bay, steam rising against her skin. “ i keep thinking about lyosha. three years ago at this time, irinka was fretting about the new year’s eve arrangements. ” ( @ziclovs​ )

[aromancva]

“ mountains, waterfalls, wildlife parks...and your friend chose to host here. what are fireworks to volcanoes? ” ( @ncdyc​ )

[aromancva]

“ now that you’ve gone public with anneli...there’s an easy narrative to pull lenya back from belarus. without kobolkov, you’ll need to shore up support in the south. it’d give us room to negotiate for roman’s surrender and let us scout for more amenable options for the belarussian throne. ” keeping the crown upon their cousin’s pretty, fragile head was untenable and the grand duchy would need a need a new leader once rostov oblast lost the general. while soletsky may not have been keen on providing explicit support to his niece, keeping ukraine between milena and any other hidden yurivič supporters was strategic advantage. “ how was the trip to st.petersburg otherwise? ” features still into a careful neutral, impassive despite the childish urge to ask just how many nobles had been pleased to meet the czar’s fiancée. ( @rcmvncv​ )

[aromancva]

[ ✉️ → okz ] there’s a key with your name at the front desk. come to the top floor, turn left out of the elevator and go to the end of the hall, there’s a stairwell.

[ ✉️ → okz ] one flight up. use the key. see you soon.

( @ziclovs )

[aromancva]

home ground advantage soothes anya; efficiency pleases her more. it may not be the imposing labyrinth of kremlin offices, but choosing the space, picking the angle of her seat, settling in rather than being led in manages to suffice as a substitute today. greetings are exchanged -- she is terse. there is a brief silence, anya looks at lyosha seeking unspoken confirmation before the ice of her gaze turns and she addresses the french king. “ you’ve demonstrated a patience we weren’t expecting, your majesty. it has been noted. before we begin, you should be made aware of some upcoming news. ” the chance of success is higher if they are operating from the same page. “ consider it a professional courtesy. ” ( @vrnvuld​ / @rcmvncv​ )

[aromancva]

-- july 14, 2022, moscow / @ziclovs​​

moscow is home even more than st. petersburg is. more than vienna or salzburg ever were. petroff palace is nestled away from the golden halls of the kremlin -- its grandeur is a display of romanov wealth and power, but petrovsky belongs to just anya. a week in, and somehow moscow’s charms aren’t able to hold her attention in the same way; neither zaryadye park’s floating bridge nor laika’s statue seem worth a walk when there isn’t another’s hand intertwined with hers.

in the morning, she will return to her offices in the winter palace and continue through the litany of meetings to inch agendas forward, to remove obstacles her team has been struggling against without her ferocious presence. for now, she is tucked in her bed, voice soft in the dark and phone pressed to her ear.

“...but the best view is the river to the south. that’s why most of my offices are set up on that side of the palace. ” he hadn’t asked, but she likes sharing her day with him when she cannot share them in person. anya pauses when want pangs beneath her sternum, sidestepping the cavernous, palpable echoes of absence in her chest for a self-conscious laugh instead. “ you know, i’m in my favorite city in the world, and somehow i’m missing a house on casbah drive in the suburbs of saskatchewan. ” 

[aromancva]

-- march 19, 2022, tokyo w @ziclovs​ ​

she’d hoped to see him again soon -- had even offered to come by his unit again to pick up the book he’d set aside for nadya -- but intimately understood the constraints of work preventing frivolous meetings. did he still miss her? like he claimed from his threshold, several meters from the lift. just when anya is debating whether or not to remind kaspar that he hadn’t yet made things up to her, that a radler and another book to read did not count, he texts.

OKZ: Would you take a trip with me? OKZ: I’d have you well fed, and home by nightfall.

the plan is settled for saturday, a car waiting for them at 09:30 ( though even that had been up for negotiation when kaspar had playfully suggested separate vehicles -- that wouldn’t be very environmentally friendly, anya had responded ) and apparently coffee too. anya thanked his assistant for the cup with a perfunctory smile as she ducked into her seat, sliding over to make room for kaspar when he arrived.

[aromancva]

@ncdyc​​

the rap against nadya’s door is new -- she’d become accustomed to striding in without more consideration. “ hey. do you want to go for a drive? ”

[aromancva]

@ziclovs

[ ✉️ → okz ] Hi. 

[aromancva]

@ncdyc​

eyes flick up as soon as the door opens. “ morning -- did you have a good run? ” and before nadya can make an escape, “ sit, please. i made a smoothie, there’s toast. ”

[aromancva]

@vnncli​

after rapping her knuckles against the woord sharply, anya gazes at the suite door with a set jaw, waiting for it to open. “ we need to talk. ” brow lifts, expecting an invitation into anneli’s space. “ i’m not sure what lyosha communicates with you, i need to clarify some things and make sure they are heard. unfiltered. ”

[aromancva]

@ncdyc​

anya is now accustomed to the thunderous creaks of the garage door as it closes, letting it slide into place while she undoes her belt and the engine stops. this time, she’d kept herself awake instead of letting the comforting rhythm of tires on pavement lull her into sleep. the words she hadn’t said had kept twisting in her stomach, threatening to let loose every time she’d had the urge to grin at nadya as their bikes sped through trails. “ wait, ” her hand darts out to press on nadya’s thigh, keep her in place. “ i have to tell you something. ”