#{made to serve her very throne - musings} | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

loviestyless · 1 year ago

Text

Shadowed Starlight*

Summary: Odile Einar has one purpose: kill the fae king and prevent the prophecy from coming true. the only thing that stands in her way is their deep rooted history.

fantasy au! king harry x assassin oc

Warnings: murder, violence, blood, smut: dom!harry, thigh riding, choking, praise kink, breeding kink

The shrill echo of a sharpened sword dragging against concrete announced the arrival of the lone warrior, stirring the ripples of shadows curling through the throne room and fuelling the whispers of terror warning her not to venture further. Night followed in her wake as her bloodied weapon etched stars in the dark, marbled floor of the building built off nightmares, the very essence of her power rolling off her body as rage coursed through her bloodstream at the sight of the figure sat atop his throne. Waiting.

Dark stories of the High Fae surrounded the golden throne, the ornate and intricate paintings shone through the shadows - depicting the cruel suffering his ancestors had inflicted upon the unfortunate common folk of Eroda. Every war, every rebellion and every battle for power the royal bloodline had successfully won filled all four walls of the gigantic room - embellished with gold to serve as a reminder to the unfortunate souls unlucky enough to kneel before the king that they never stood a chance.

The Fae King draped himself casually atop the ancient throne, his shadows humming through the walls, clawing at their invisible shackles in an attempt to strangle the woman for approaching the King so brazenly. But he remained unbothered, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips as his emerald eyes soaked in her appearance. Everything about his demeanour was the least bit regal, as if he was merely a young prince playing up to a title, he would one day inherit, even his crown lay crooked atop his mess of curls. He maintained slouched against the throne while she approached, almost as if it burdened him to be cursed with such beauty his entire immortal life and the warrior scoffed at such petty vanity the King harboured.

But despite such a relaxed demeanour, the woman knew of the horrors that lay behind those gorgeous green eyes. This man was lethal, his shadows alone could smother the entire room in seconds, killing her instantly if she let her starlight dim under his watch.

Sweat and blood smeared across her dark skin, twinkling like stars as the rows of candles flickered in the breeze that swept through the building upon her entrance. Every slow, confident step forward made it harder for her to keep control of her power, tendrils of night eager to land a lethal strike.

"My, my, aren't you a sight for sore eyes." He purred, his sharp gaze dragging down her body to take in her blood-soaked armour with amusement. Swirls of shadows snaked their ways around his forearms, summoned silently by the King as a reminder of his potential power and to intimidate the Fae assassin refusing to bow at his feet.

It had been years since she had seen his face and as much as she hated to admit it, he still looked just as beautiful as when she'd left. His thick curls were shorter, no longer dusting the tops of his shoulders but sat messily atop his head in a way that emphasised his sharp jawline. Her brown eyes flared with specs of starlight as she forced herself not to succumb to his beauty - it was how she'd gotten tangled up in this mess in the first place and she couldn't afford to let him charm her again. Not when the fate of the entire kingdom rested upon her shoulders.

The shadow's whispers seemed to fall silent while the King taunted the warrior, waiting with bated breath for her to react to his cunning words.

"The little assassin returns." Harry mused softly. His legs swung over the arm of the chair so that he swivelled around to sit properly, his knees parted as he leaned forward with a sinister smirk. "I must admit, twenty years to seek out an oracle is a little excessive, is it not Odile?"

Every sentence that rolled off his tongue was meticulously planned, specifically chosen to tempt her into giving in to the rage he could see flowing through her bloodstream. The assassin felt her grip tighten around the handle of her weapon, a deep breath rattling her chest as she refused to let him affect her. The King chuckled lowly, emerald eyes darkening slightly they flickered over her body once more.

"And no babe in your arms, either." He mocked, shaking his head condescendingly as he stared at Odile's tense form, "What a wasted journey."

Odile fought the urge to stiffen at the reminder of the past, of her old self who was so foolishly naive and trusting in the Fae King that she wandered blindly into the forest twenty years ago seeking confirmation of a life she thought she wanted. But the answers she found were not what she expected. And judging by Harry's proud smirk, he too knew the prophecy that was handed to her instead - one that had changed her forever.

No longer was she a shy, timid woman that remained blindsided by the true extent of the King's powers. She was Eroda's assassin and she was here to kill the treacherous bastard that had reigned for far too long.

"Look at you, burning with rage." A deep chuckle rumbled in Harry's chest, only making Odile's power ripple with anger. Tendrils of night rolled off her body, inching their way closer to the throne where speckled starlight waited to strike the King's shadows. "I think I like this new you, it's more...enticing."

Honeyed words dripped off his tongue and Odile had to force herself to keep her eyes locked on his, resisting the urge to glance down at her feet under his intense glare. He knew exactly the right thing to say to charm people, to get them on his side and that was the exact reason she was in this position in the first place. But she refused to fall for it any longer, he was a brutal murderer and she wouldn't let him continue the vicious cycle for centuries to come. The prophecy would end here today. By her hand.

The Kingdom of Eroda shall fall by the hands of darkness if not stopped by the light. Centuries of bloodshed and corruption will end when stars and shadows join once more and create shadowed starlight. The palace will stand tall among the ashes, ready to rebuild a world that was lost to evil- a world where the stars will shine anew.

"You deserve to die for what you've done." Odile's voice was steady and confident, revenge dominating every inch of her body and making her eyes darken with deadly intent.

"What I've done?" Harry snickered lightly, no sense of remorse at all. "I think we should start with what you've done, darling."

The ripples of shadows swirling around his hands slowly drifted towards her, snaking their way around her feet and up her legs as the King took in her bloodied appearance. Crimson soaked her leather armour, splashed across her skin and drenched her locs but not a single drop of it was hers. Odile was untouched, unharmed and standing tense as the shadows settled around her neck - the ghost of Harry's touch taunting her with the possibility of what he could do.

A chill ran down her spine as her breath caught in her throat at the feeling of his power calling to hers, her inner starlight singing to the shadows and threatening to give in to him once more. She had felt these shadows brush against her skin many times before, but she refused to give in to their touch - not when the prophecy rang clear in her mind.

"Your governors are dead by my hand. They serve Hel now." She announced coldly, allowing her eyes to flare white with starlight so the King could see the threat she posed to his position on the throne - reminding him she was no longer the timid woman he knew twenty years ago. She felt his shadows squirm slightly as her power surged but the King remained relaxed. "You are next to join them."

"Well, you have been busy, haven't you?" He mused, sitting up straight in his throne and finally taking this seriously. It appeared the threat on his life was something to worry about.

No doubt he had heard whispers of the assassin rampaging through his lands the past two decades, training in the woods for the mission of a lifetime before hunting down every corrupt government official that served under the King. All of them were attacked when they least expected, brutally murdered and their bodies hung outside their houses as a warning to those that remained.

No longer would the poor be squeezed for every piece of copper they owned, no longer would the King's guards turn a blind eye to crime and no longer would the black-market fuel the underworld of illegal drugs and fighting rings. Eroda could go back to being the beautiful land, enriched with magic and beauty like the history books had once reported to the world.

All that was left was for the King to fall and the prophecy would be changed.

"I applaud you for your success, my darling. But I must address the little fault in your plan."

"If you intend to beg for your life then you underestimate my power." Odile's hand gripped the leather handle of her sword and carried a certain lightness in her feet as she prepared herself for the attack. Her best bet was to keep him talking, his ego was his downfall and all Odile had to do was catch him when his guard was down.

She was going to slit his throat where he sat and sit on the throne soaked with his blood as the Queen of Eroda - ready to rebuild the kingdom to its former glory.

"Not at all, Odile. I have always known what power you possess; you were just too blind to see it." His words were cocky, full of confidence that he shouldn't have in such a moment before his death. For many, it would be unnerving but for Odile it only made her all the more determined. "I simply intend to ask how you think the prophecy will play out when you kill your mate."

Odile felt her heart lurch at the reminder that the beautiful man in front of her was in fact her mate, the person fate decided was her other-half for all eternity - the person that completed her soul. When she had first met him twenty years ago, their bond snapped into place the moment their eyes locked and everything in her life seemed to fall into place. She was given a purpose, a lover and someone that mirrored her level of devotion.

Her love had blinded her from seeing what a despicable man Harry truly was, that was until the Oracle allowed her to see what she had been oblivious to the entire time. The bond still hummed within her, urging her to embrace his love after such time apart. The pining had almost driven her mad at first, unable to block out her power calling out to him at all hours of the day. Her magic needed him and his shadows needed hers. It would bring such pain to her heart to live on while her mate was killed - their bonded souls torn apart for the rest of eternity.

"You may be my mate and my husband, but I reject anything that binds me to such a cold-hearted leader as you. I would live with such pain knowing I had saved thousands from your blighted power."

Suddenly, bright starlight flooded the throne room, Odile's light bouncing off the golden accents of the entire room and blinding the King in an instant. His shadows recoiled with a hiss, leaving Harry unprotected long enough for the assassin to spring into action. One minute she was standing tall in front of the throne, the next she was straddling her mate's lap, pinning his shoulders against the back of the throne with the bloodied blade of her weapon digging uncomfortably into his neck.

Stars melted around them, revealing the rage filled warrior to the King so he could truly see her now. Honey brown eyes had darkened with anger, tendrils of night snaked up Harry's arms and pinned him in place so he could do little to overpower her.

Blood smeared against the King's face as Odile's left hand gripped his jaw, bringing her face so close to his that their lips almost touched.

Harry's pink lips curled upwards at the closeness of his wife, the twenty years of silent pining for her return finally silenced under her touch. Albeit because she was holding a sword to his throat and threatening his life. But he wasn't worried, he knew she still loved him dearly and had felt the same hollowness in her heart while she was away.

"I am not the man you think I am."

"It is your shadows the prophecy speaks of; you are the dark hands that have tainted this kingdom with corruption." She spat, starlight fizzling off her body and landing in sparks on the floor around her. Harry's eyes drifted down to glance at her lips before meeting her intense stare once again - he'd be lying if he said this new side to her wasn't turning him on.

"You are my lover and with your death Eroda will finally be free."

"I have protected this kingdom for five-hundred years, darling. You truly haven't worked it out yet, have you? We're supposed to save Eroda together. Why do you think I sent you out to the Oracle that day?"

No matter how much she tried to hide her confusion at her mate's words, there was little she could do to suppress the frown that tugged at her brows.

Harry had not sent her to seek out an Oracle, she had done that herself. She had thought she was pregnant and went to ask for confirmation that she was carrying the future heir to Eroda's throne. Secrecy was key if she truly was with child, the last thing she wanted was for rival kingdoms finding out and putting her and her baby's lives in danger. Odile hadn't even mentioned anything to her maid before she slipped out of the palace under the cover of darkness - how Harry had found out she had no idea.

"I never told you I thought I might be pregnant. You didn't send me anywhere."

"You think those books about royal bloodlines just appeared on my nightstand out of nowhere? You think the fact you overheard the royal reports about an Oracle causing havoc in the forest was a coincidence?" Harry's demeanour shifted for the first time since Odile had returned, no longer teasing her but completely serious. "I planted that idea into your head, Odile. I knew what the Oracle would tell you and I needed you to hear it. Because you held the power to save Eroda."

Harry shifted slightly under Odile's thighs, straining against her power and glancing down at the sword pressed against his neck uncomfortably.

"Darling, you already saved us. The darkness has been eradicated." Harry explained softly, making Odile's restraints falter long enough for him to free his hands, his warm touch ghosting her thighs as he rubbed them slowly. "Please, put the sword down.

"Y-you're the darkness. You rule over the kingdom, it's your fault corruption has plagued these lands. This room itself lays testament to the centuries of pain you and your family have inflicted on people."

"Odile, I've always wanted to be different from my ancestors, it sickens me to be surrounded by the monstrosities they carried out under my family name. I have dreamt of a kingdom that was filled with magic and laughter since I was a boy but that was not the plan of my father. He changed the laws of the council so I would not influence their decisions over my people, I became a King by title but with no power." Harry's voice carried a sense of vulnerability within it that Odile had only ever heard when she was with him. To others he maintained an air of arrogance within himself but with her, he was completely different. "I sought out the Oracle two hundred years ago, hoping for a way to save Eroda and that is when I learnt of the prophecy. Of you."

Odile's mind was reeling. She had spent twenty years with only the words that the Oracle had told her to understand the gravity of the situation thrust upon her. She had asked for an explanation, some kind of guidance but little was given outside the prophecy recounted throughout history. Hate had been forced to fester in her heart towards her husband - her mate - and that kind of pain was almost impossible to cope with.

"How can I believe you?"

Harry's lips twitched upwards slightly with a coy smirk, his eyes darkening in the way Odile recognised far too well. His touch grew stronger against her thighs, trailing closer to the place he knew she wanted him but was too stubborn to admit. He could sense her arousal from the moment she'd straddled his lap, no doubt fighting the memories of being in such a position countless times before.

"Because you're my mate and I know in your heart you feel this is right." Harry whispered lowly, leaning in slightly so that his lips ghosted against hers. The sharp blade of her sword dug harder into his skin, no doubt leaving a mark but he didn't care, not when he finally got to touch his mate after pining for her these past twenty years.

Odile gasped slightly in surprise as his lips finally met hers, warmth flooding through her body as she let her husband kiss her with as much love as he physically could. Their lips moved in sync together, the blade at Harry's throat slipping slightly as Odile let her focus drift to how perfect this moment felt. Her heart was thumping erratically in her chest, finally at peace after being torn apart by such distance for so long.

Misted shadows curled around the pair, ghosting touches along Odile's soft neck in a way that made her moan in anticipation while Harry's palms continued to tease the tops of her thighs, occasionally brushing her warm arousal over the top of her fighting leathers. Gods, she'd missed this. No matter how much she'd tried to hate him the last twenty years, she'd always drift into the land of dreams where his touch would be waiting for her. She'd dream of riding his cock once more, hearing his grunts of pleasure ring into the night as she pleasured herself until years of pining was eventually satisfied.

"Look at you, giving in so easily. I knew you'd see sense." Lustful amusement hung off every word that escaped Harry's lips. "Let me fuck you, baby. Ride my cock and claim your throne."

And then it suddenly hit Odile - this was what the prophecy had spoken of this entire time.

The Kingdom of Eroda shall fall by the hands of darkness if not stopped by the light.

She had been the one to murder the corrupt governors and her starlight had sung her victory every time. Nobody was left to rule over the kingdom and so the laws were now irrelevant, all power was now reinstated to the crown. Harry was free to be the ruler that Eroda had desperately needed for thousands of years.

Centuries of bloodshed and corruption will end when stars and shadows join once more and create shadowed starlight.

Odile had previously thought it meant the final death must be Harry's, a final test to eradicate the plague of shadows over the kingdom before she could build Eroda from scratch. But with how things were currently playing out, it appeared to be referencing the passions of reunited lovers, perhaps about to conceive the first heir to the new world she had secured for the future.

The palace will stand tall among the ashes, ready to rebuild a world that was lost to evil- a world where the stars will shine anew.

The loud clatter of metal against marble echoed about the throne room as the weapon finally tumbled from Odile's grasp to rest at the foot of the throne. Harry groaned in relief, rolling his head back slightly to stretch his neck out now he was no longer restricted, the harsh red mark of the blade standing prominent against his skin. Odile's hands cupped her lover's cheeks, smashing her lips into his as she ground her hips into his with a breathy moan as she gave in to her desire.

This was what she wanted, just her and Harry reunited once more and ready to rule Eroda by each other's side.

"Make me your Queen, Harry." She panted breathlessly, barely pulling apart from the King as she spoke her final demand. "Knock me up, give yourself an heir."

Harry's eyes darkened as his powers rumbled with desire, a lustful smirk appearing on his lips as he took in Odile's demands - his mind running rampant with all the possible ways to pleasure his mate after so long apart. He'd dreamed of the day he'd once more feel her wet cunt around his heavy cock, gorgeous tits bouncing in his face while her screams of pleasures rang out through the entire palace.

"You gonna be my good girl, yeah?" He breathed out, hands already trailing upwards to claim her body as his. Brushing her long, bloodied locs over her shoulder, Harry's lips met the exposed skin of her neck, sucking gently as his palms squeezed her heavy breasts. Odile squirmed in his lap in desperate need of some friction against her aching core, revelling in the feeling of her mate's hard cock brushing against her cunt through the layers of clothing in the way. "Bet you're dripping for me, aren't you?"

Odile whimpered at Harry's voice so deep and oozing with seduction, frantically nodding in agreement as she felt his hand slip down the waistband of her leather pants to confirm what he already knew. A soft hum of satisfaction vibrated against her skin as Harry continued to mark up her neck, his fingers toying with her wet folds while Odile was rendered breathless with desire. Speckled starlight flickered from her fingers as she tugged at her husband's curls, head tipping back slightly as she allowed him to take his claim over her body.

Her mind was a blur, uncontrollable whimpers escaped her lips as she rocked against Harry's fingers - chasing the pleasure that was already building in her core.

"Undress, Odile." The King's demand was clear, his fingers quickly removed from Odile's trousers as he pulled back to watch her carefully. The assassin let out a frustrated groan as the building wave subsided, her fingers desperately tearing at her leathers to obey her husband's instructions. The quicker she acted, the better behaved she was, the sooner she'd get to ride his cock. "Need you naked on my lap."

The moment her top hit the floor, Harry's eyes flicked downwards to take in her bare breasts, free from blood and tempting him with their perfection. He watched silently as they bounced slightly as Odile unbuttoned her trousers, lifting her hips off of Harry slightly so she could pull them off completely - exposing her naked cunt for him to admire. Ripples of shadows snaked up her body, teasing her hard nipples before settling around her pretty neck, waiting for the command to choke her just the way she liked and Odile let out a soft moan in anticipation, knowing Harry was going to fuck her senseless at any moment.

"Look at you, my pretty Queen." He hummed softly, dark emerald eyes sweeping over Odile's naked body as if he was committing it to memory.

"If I am your Queen, I shall need a crown." Odile stated boldly, her hands already gripping the golden halo framing her husband's curls and lifting it from his head. A subtle moan rumbled deep in his chest as he watched her place his crown atop her locs.

His cock stiffened even more in the confines of his trousers at the sight of his wife wearing nothing but the golden crown on her head, desire overtook him and he knew he couldn't drag this out like he'd originally planned.

"Now fuck me, my King. Show me how much you missed me." Odile gripped Harry's jaw, her brown eyes locked onto his green with such intent in an attempt to get him to submit. But that was not Harry, he did not submit to anyone - not even his mate. He smirked playfully as she felt his shadows squeeze her neck, restricting the air just enough to make her head go the perfect amount of fuzzy.

"You want my cock, then take it, sweetheart. It's all yours." Settling back against his ornate throne, he watched as Odile set to work unbuttoning his trousers and freeing his length from the confines of his pants. She didn't care he was still fully clothed, all she cared about was finally getting to fuck her mate after years of pining after this exact moment.

He hissed softly as she took him in her hand, tugging slowly at his cock just enough to tease him with pleasure as she ground her pussy against his thick thigh. Wetness seeped into the material of his trousers, leaving a patch of arousal as she continued to get herself off before taking what she really wanted. Breathless pants filled the air as the pair of them got lost in pleasure, blurts of precome collected on the dark skin of Odile's hand like sparkling pearls while Harry's shadows created a necklace of darkness around her pure neck.

Harry's mouth suddenly enveloped Odile's left nipple, teeth grazing softly over her skin as he sucked at her breast perfectly positioned in front of her face. The rhythm of her hips became uneven as she whimpered with sensitivity, already feeling herself hurtling towards the edge after such a long time of nothing.

"H-Harry..."

Stars and shadows snaked around the throne as both their powers were released from its confines, the bond between them growing the further Harry and Odile fell into their pleasure and healing their shattered souls.

"So, close, sweetheart. Such a good girl f'me." Harry mumbled breathlessly, obviously struggling just as much as his wife to last much longer. "Come on my thigh, darling. Let go."

And that was all it took for her to tumble over the edge, hips stilling as she came all over Harry's thigh. Her head tipped back as a loud moan escaped her lips, bright stars filling the room and almost blinded Harry as he watched her gorgeous features scrunch up in pleasure - a sight he had only dreamed of for twenty years. His own release followed almost instantly, spurting up his clothed torso as Odile's pretty moans filled his ears like his favourite melody.

"Fuck-" He choked on his own moans, unable to talk properly as he struggled to stop his power from clouding his mind and rendering him completely speechless. "Perfect girl, so perfect, sweetheart."

Slumped against her husband's body, Odile peppered gentle kisses along his exposed, sweaty collarbones - delicate fingers trailing over the inked swallows that were left on display after the material had fallen open in all the pleasure.

"Made a mess all over me." He chuckled lightly, running his hand over her thighs as he took in the wetness on his trousers. Instead of blushing with embarrassment, Odile simply raised her hand that was covered in her husband's come and made a show of licking it up with a satisfied smirk. The sight of her tongue dragging along the back of her hand, savouring the taste of his release made Harry's cock twitch once more as he felt himself grow half hard with every lick.

"And you." She hummed, "Just as desperate, darling. You're not kidding anyone."

Her hips began to grind against his both of them still sensitive to touch but neither caring. Odile needed to sit on Harry's cock and feel him fill her up for the rest of eternity - she'd been empty for too long and now she needed to satisfy her hunger.

Taking him in her hand once more, Odile lifted herself up just enough to position him at her entrance. Hungry eyes watched her eagerly as Harry waited for the bliss of feeling her tightness envelope him completely - both of them sighing with pleasure as their hips joined once more.

Shadows curled around Odile's wrists, forcing them upwards so that her hands tangled in Harry's messy curls in a silent demand before settling around her neck to choke her. Her head was spinning with lust at the feeling of Harry's power constricting the amount of air she could take in, all while revelling in being full to the brim with his aching cock. Their lips smashed together, tongues dancing in each other's mouths as she began to ride her husband with an eager rhythm, hands tugging at his curls just as the King liked it. Deep moans escaped his lips, filling the air as his hands gripped her butt tightly, helping her to grind harder against him for both their pleasure.

"So tight, so wet, sweetheart." Harry panted into the kiss, bucking up into her pussy to hit the sweet spot inside her. "Missed this perfect cunt."

"Harder, make me scream!" Odile pleaded as a dull ache settled in her thighs with all the effort it was taking to ride his cock with such energy. She needed him to take her, to fuck her so hard she saw stars and he was more than happy to oblige - but not without a little teasing first.

"Knew you wouldn't kill me, darling." He chuckled slowly in between trailing sloppy kisses along her collarbone towards her heavy breasts. His thumb teased her clit, rubbing slow circles to add to the building tension at her core that made her such a moaning mess. "Need my cock too bad, don't you?"

A sharp snap of his hips timed perfectly with her hips bouncing down on his cock filled her even deeper, causing a loud moan to echo about the room unexpectedly, only proving Harry right.

"Who else would fuck you this good, leave you screaming like I can?" He smirked against Odile's skin as her sounds of pleasure continued to ring out across the room, allowing his shadows to ghost over every inch of her body and enhance every delicate touch he was giving her. "You'd miss the warmth of my cock for all eternity."

"Uh-huh, you. Only you, baby." She replied breathlessly, unable to focus properly as her hips began to stutter. Sweat sparkled like glitter on her dark skin, making her appear like starlight itself, all gorgeous and addictive. Harry's cock ached at the sight, his chest heaving with desire as he let his shadows tangle with the stars rippling from her body, both their releases rapidly approaching with little warning.

"Look at you, so full of me." The King grunted with each powerful thrust upwards, his fingers digging into her hips so hard as he helped guide her cunt onto his cock there was no doubt bruises would be left in their wake. "Taking me like a good girl."

"All yours, belong to you!" Odile whimpered, her vision going blurry as she was practically blinded by the tight coil of pleasure that was threatening to explode at any second. With Harry's shadows wrapped tightly around her neck, his sharp thrusts timed perfectly to hit her g-spot and his ghosted touch on her clit, the woman could barely sit up straight - her forehead resting on Harry's shoulder for support as he helped her reach her peak.

"Harry-" Her moan was immediately cut off by another sharp thrust from Harry's hips, the King recognising all the signs that she was seconds from toppling over the edge. Her hips bucked frantically as she chased the rising feeling in her core, heavy pants filling the air between them as the pair turned animalistic in chasing their high.

"I know, sweetheart. Come for me darling." Harry demanded; his voice thick with lust as he felt ready to burst. "Soak my cock, milk me dry."

Shadowed starlight tore through the room as pleasure peaked in perfect waves, slamming into the walls and crumbling the dark paintings into tiny pieces. Their pleasured moans mixed together in a delightful tune as they rode out their highs, Odile collapsing into Harry's arms as her body felt weak after such a powerful orgasm. Soft kisses were pressed against her sweaty forehead as Harry's soft touch rubbed her shoulder soothingly.

Wrapped up in each other's warmth, with his cock still buried deep within his mate, Harry finally felt the peace he'd dreamt of since taking the throne five hundred years ago.

Centuries of terror and bloodshed was over. It was time to start anew.

#harry styles #harry styles au #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfiction #smut #dom harry styles #fantasy #fantasy au #poc characters #king!harry #faerie #fae!harry

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woahiwrite · 2 years ago

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hello!! i saw you were taking requests and wanted to send one!! i’ve been binge reading your headcanons too!! you’re such a good writer 🫶🏼

i was wondering if you could do kenshi with a princess! reader please 😵✨💗 thank you and i hope you have a good one!

Kenshi x Princess!Reader

Warnings: Descriptions of blood, not very graphic, no actual injuries to reader or any of the kast. Reader is female and described as just shorter than Kenshi. For the purpose of the story the tournament spans over a few months, I'd say 4 to 6, just for it to not feel like Kenshi and Reader fell for eachother in like 3 weeks[I don't know how long the tournament is but that is how it felt in the game]. Open ending

Thank you for enjoying my writing, you have a good one as well! For story reasons I decided to come up with another realm for the reader to be princess of, also because this ask gave me so much muse I came up with a bunch of lore too so I apologize if this isn't quite what you had in mind😭. I might make this into something more if enough people want it and I find myself with enough motivation to do so. I quite enjoyed this ask and I think it shows.

• As Princess of Warrealm, you were no stranger to kombat

• There was once a time when your realm had been prosperous, teeming with life, a true paradise

• Though that was before your birth, before your parents' birth, something you only read about in the history books

• Knowing you would be in danger if raised in your home realm, your parents sent you to Outworld, to be raised as Sindel's ward until you were old enough to join your family and hopefully break the millennium long state of war that plagued your realm

• First, you must learn how Sindel ruled and learn how to fight, training under Li Mei and one of the royal guard from your own realm

• As you came of age, you spent more time in Warrealm, participating in battles when permitted, and trying to come up with strategies to hopefully get a breakthrough

• This, is when Kenshi saw you for the first time

• Sindel had just finished her introduction of the tournament, her lips just parting as she went to welcome forth Liu Kang

• When suddenly, her eyes drifted over, and she seemed to still

▪︎ "Woah, who is that?"

• Hearing Johnny's question, Kenshi turned to follow his gaze, and he immediately found himself intrigued, though also concerned

• Strutting forward, bloodied spear in hand, you made your way towards the throne, your skin dripping, and clothes soaked, with crimson

• Sindel watched you approach, ignoring the worried glances from Kitana and Mileena as you knelt before the steps

▪︎ "Empress, I am sorry for this interruption."

▪︎ "Do not worry yourself, I have been awaiting your return, you are unharmed?"

▪︎ "Yes, Empress."

• Sindel seemed to visibly relax, and she nodded her head with a small smile

▪︎ "Good, go clean yourself up, the tournament will begin soon."

• You stood, turning swiftly, before walking out of the throne room without so much as a glance spared to anyone else

• Bloodied footsteps trailed behind you, leaving Kenshi to wonder if it may stain the pristine white floors, and if so, why Sindel didn't seem mad you did so

• He did not see you again until the banquet that night

• You were seated beside him, looking amused at the disgusted side glances he sent towards Kung Lao and the slightly worried ones he gave to his own plate

▪︎ "The food of Outworld is not much too different than that served in Earthrealm, it will not harm you."

• Kenshi looked at you in shock, and then quickly shook his head

▪︎ "That isn't it at all, Princess."

• It was your turn to be shocked

▪︎ "Pardon?"

▪︎ "Oh, are you not one? I had assumed because of how close you had seemed with the royal family."

▪︎ "I am, just..not from Outworld. A story for a later date, perhaps. My story won't provide much entertainment to your dinner."

▪︎ "I'm not that hungry."

• You gave him an apprehensive look, before nodding your head

• You explained to him the history of your Realm, unsure as to if he would know it or not

• That Warrealm was once called Idyllrealm, and that it was once a place unlike any other

• Some from Chaosrealm had came and formed their own battalions, hellbent on taking down the royal family so that Idyllrealm could be a true paradise, another realm gloriously free like their own

• The war seemed never-ending, as people became corrupt by Chaosrealm ideals

• Idyllrealm received little aid even with their good relations with Outworld

• As time went on, Idyllrealm was better termed as Warrealm, for the battles that waged on constantly

▪︎ "So, Outworld is like a safe haven for you?"

▪︎ "Precisely."

• Kenshi was further intrigued by you then, there was just so much to learn from you

• To learn about you

• He could relate with you on wanting to free your people from corruption, and if he wasn't so focused on saving his Clan, he would've offered his aid to you right then and there

• Though, he didn't know how much of a help he would be without any abilities to aid in such warfare with people who seemed to come out of fantasy stories

• But to say it was love at first sight would be incorrect

• It was more admiration

• Though that admiration didn't take very long to turn into love

• You had found Kenshi attractive, not just for his looks, but his personality and his goal that was so similar to yours

• You didn't really realize, but the both of you quickly became good friends

• Even despite the Earthrealmers taking victory after victory in the tournament, you felt no ill will towards them

• If anything, you almost rooted for them to win

• Outworld did not need any battle, and you knew General Shao did enjoy the thrill of bloodshed, he had even aided in a few battles in Warrealm

• So if Earthrealm won, the realms would stay in peace, and it would allow you to keep your mind set

• After all, if Outworld fell into war, you would almost feel obligated to fight alongside them

• Most of your life was spent there, after all

• Though to take your minds off those thoughts, you always could talk with Kenshi

• He told you about life in Earthrealm, and you told him about life in Outworld

• You'd often share drinks together, sometimes alone, sometimes with the company of the other Earthrealmers

• They all liked to hear your stories

• (You ignored the flirtatious comments by the one who went by Johnny Cage)

• It was all good and fun

• You made friends with the Earthrealmers, and even sparred with them whenever you all wanted to

• Of course, you hid this knowledge from Sindel, Mileena, and Kitana

• You didn't know if they would accept any sort of relations with those of Earthrealm outside of the tournament

• Even ones as innocent as friendship

• Though you knew you wanted more than that with the swordsman

• As time continued to pass, and the tournament grew closer to its end, you found yourself growing dreary

• Kenshi felt the same

• It showed in one of your nights basking in the moonlight, drinks in hand, staring out over the city

▪︎ "Raiden fights General Shao and Princess Mileena in a few days."

▪︎ "Are you worried for him?"

▪︎ "Not quite, I think he'll be fine. He is the champion for a reason."

▪︎ "Then why do you sound so somber?"

▪︎ "I'll miss the view here in Outworld, it's quite..beautiful."

• Glancing over at him, you found Kenshi to already be looking at you

▪︎ "Outworld is home to many of my fondest memories. I find myself making new ones a lot more, recently. Some fonder than others."

• Stepping closer to you, Kenshi slightly leaned against the railing as he looked down at you, the distant explosions from fireworks reflecting in his gaze

▪︎ "What are your favorite ones?"

▪︎ "How about I show you?"

• Feeling his hand come up to cup the side of your face, your hand gripped the side of his suit jacket, keeping him close as your lips pressed together

• The kiss was more passionate than you had expected, your heart thudding in your chest as you stepped even closer to him

• When you pulled apart, you were both left breathless

• Tongue briefly darting out to lick your lips, you smiled up at him as he did down to you

▪︎ "There, my most loved memory yet."

▪︎ "I'm glad I made the list, though I hope I won't have to become a memory."

• You huffed, pulling back from him but dragging your hand down until you held his hand in yours

▪︎ "Hopefully not."

#mortal kombat fanfiction #mortal kombat x reader #kenshi takahashi x reader #kenshi takahashi headcanons #woahiwrite

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and-justice-for-zoisite · 2 years ago

Text

𝒞𝑜𝓈𝓂𝒾𝒸 𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒 - Part 3 (Fujin x Tsung! Reader)

Official Masterlist

Summary: After her last fight with her father, (Y/n) has been plagued with paranoia that something else bad will happen. This would prove right, as, like what happened with Kitana and Mileena, his father had an ulterior motive to replace her.

Word Count: 6.5K Words

"You dare return to me without (Y/n)?!?!"

Shang Tsung had been reluctant to return to Shao Kahn at all, given he couldn't carry out his exact orders of bringing his own daughter back to Outworld. Though, he wouldn't have returned at all had he not had an alternative to offer the emperor.

"You are a disgrace sorcerer!! I'll have you executed-"

"With all due respect, emperor," Shang Tsung cut the angry man off, holding a halting hand up in front of himself, "I did not return empty handed."

Intrigued, Shao Kahn allowed himself to calm down, as he waited patiently for Shang to continue.

"While I was not able to obtain (Y/n), I was able to create something...much more powerful."

Shang Tsung turned to his side, as though he was signalling for someone to come forward.

From the shadows, emerged someone. They didn't just walk out of the shadows, it seemed that they were a part of the shadows - like they wielded them. They made themself known, their figure and face reminiscent of (Y/n) though their skin was much paler, and was covered in ancient symbols.

They approached Shang Tsung, and he placed a hand on their shoulder, once again turning toward Shao Kahn with an evil smirk plastered to his lips.

"Emperor, this is my daughter," he introduced her. "Her name is Kexin Tsung."

The lady bowed in his presence, graceful and delicate, though anyone could sense the malicious intent which emanated off of her.

Shao Kahn's eyes narrowed as he observed the figure before him. There was an unsettling aura that surrounded Kexin Tsung, a sense of darkness and power that both intrigued and disturbed the emperor.

"Interesting," Shao Kahn mused, his voice laced with curiosity. "So, this is your creation, Shang Tsung? A twisted reflection of your daughter?"

Shang Tsung nodded, revelling in the attention he garnered from the emperor.

"Indeed, Emperor. Kexin possesses great potential, far surpassing that of her original counterpart. She is a vessel of dark magic and ancient knowledge, moulded to serve your ambitions. She has been spliced with that of an Oni."

Kexin remained silent, her gaze fixed upon Shao Kahn. Her eyes, a haunting shade of crimson, bore into his soul, as if she could see through his façade and into the depths of his darkest desires. She exuded an air of both obedience and dangerous independence, making her intentions difficult to discern.

Shao Kahn contemplated their proposition, weighing the potential benefits and risks of accepting Kexin into his ranks. The allure of possessing such a powerful and malleable force was enticing, yet he could not shake off the underlying unease that gripped him.

Though, given how successful of a creation his own daughter, Mileena had been, he felt less reluctant to turn this away.

"Very well, Shang Tsung," Shao Kahn finally spoke, his deep voice resonating throughout the chamber. "If this creation of yours possesses even a fraction of the power you claim, then she shall be welcomed into my ranks. Serve me faithfully, Kexin Tsung, and you shall be rewarded."

Kexin's lips curled into a sly smile, revealing a glimmer of satisfaction.

"I am yours to command, Emperor," Kexin responded, her voice carrying a chilling confidence. "I shall prove my loyalty and fulfil your desires."

Shao Kahn felt his own sense of satisfaction wash over him, and he allowed a flicker of a smirk come to his lips before a more pressing matter made itself evident in his mind.

"(Y/n) is still out there, and now that she has allied with our enemies, she poses a great threat to my throne," he began, taking a seat back on the throne he spoke of. "You wish to prove your loyalty to me?"

"Bring me her head."

Ever since her encounter with her father and his allies, (Y/n) had been on edge constantly. There wasn't a moment where she felt at peace any more, not a moment where she didn't let her guard down, even if only to eat or sleep.

Something told her that that wouldn't be the last time she saw him, as much as it seemed like that - and as much as she hoped that was the case. But she couldn't help but think on her very last moment with him, when he brushed past her hair.

It was such a nothing movement, yet...something within her told her that that moment alone would be the catalyst for something much bigger.

This was what had brought her back around to punching trees again, like she had before the tournament, before she even met Fujin. It was strangely comforting to her, to punch a tree until her hands were bleeding, until she was too tired to keep going. Even if it was a physically self-destructive training method, she would still do it - she didn't know what else to do.

The physical pain she inflicted upon herself seemed insignificant compared to the emotional turmoil she carried. It was a way to ground herself, to feel something tangible amidst the chaos that threatened to consume her. The repetitive motion and the throbbing ache in her hands provided a temporary distraction from the weight of her father's actions and the uncertainty of what lay ahead.

But even as (Y/n) unleashed her fury on the innocent trees, her mind couldn't escape the memories of her last encounter with her father. The way he brushed past her hair, a seemingly inconsequential gesture, now echoed with hidden meaning. It was a puzzle piece she couldn't quite fit into the larger picture, yet she knew it held significance.

She paused for a moment, her rapid breaths mingling with the rustling of leaves, as a gust of wind caressed her face. The breeze carried a faint whisper, as if the very essence of the forest sought to console her.

But it wouldn't work. Not this time, not today.

Taking a few steps back, she brushed some of the bark off of her bloody fist, and took fighting stance once more. She riled her fist up, ready to strike the tree once more. And as she ran at the tree, she let out an animalistic cry, and braced for the impact she would make with the tree.

Though it wouldn't come, as instead, her fist would land in someone's open hand. Fujin's hand. He looked unimpressed. Even when he had appeared out of nowhere, (Y/n) was unsurprised at his sudden appearance.

"You're going to break your hand," he warned her, his hold on her fist tight though he was careful of her wounds.

Feeling the resistance of Fujin's hand against her clenched fist, (Y/n) halted her forward momentum, her eyes narrowing as she met his gaze. The intensity of her frustration and anger still burned within her, but she recognized the concern in Fujin's eyes, the genuine care he held for her well-being.

"And what if I do?" she retorted, her voice laced with a mix of defiance and weariness. "What does it matter? A broken hand doesn't compare to any mental anguish within me."

"Your pain matters, (Y/n), both physical and emotional. But self-destruction won't lead you to the answers you seek. It will only perpetuate the cycle of suffering."

His words hung in the air, and (Y/n) found herself torn between her instinct to fight and the need to find a healthier path forward. The turmoil within her was palpable, visible in the way her shoulders slumped and her gaze wavered.

(Y/n) tore her bloody hand away from Fujin's, spinning around abruptly and stumbling over to the trunk of another tree. She dropped down, sitting against it, as she threaded her hands in her hair, holding her head as she sighed and allowed herself to breathe.

Fujin watched (Y/n) with a mix of understanding and concern. He knew that forcing her to change her mindset would be futile, for healing required time and personal realization. Instead, he took a step closer and sat down beside her, offering a supportive presence without intruding on her space.

Silence settled between them, the only sounds being the rustling leaves and (Y/n)'s ragged breaths. Fujin knew that the weight of her emotions was suffocating, threatening to drown her. But he also knew that she was resilient, and could overcome this and anything like it. He just wish that she knew that.

"I've seen the strength within you, (Y/n)," Fujin spoke softly, his voice carrying a comforting warmth. "You possess a resilience that is rare. I know it feels overwhelming right now, but I believe in your ability to overcome this darkness. You are a fine warrior."

He wrapped a gentle arm around her, and drew her in closer to him.

"You are my warrior."

(Y/n) instinctively leaned into him, finding solace in the warmth of his bigger body as she allowed her head to rest against him, taking in his scent as she always did when she was close to him. Fujin felt a sense of relief wash over him when she seemed to give in, even if only for the night. The way her body relaxed against him would always be a satisfying sight, though he knew they couldn't stay out there for much longer when the light was disappearing as quickly as it was.

"Won't you come inside with me, my feather?" Fujin asked, leaning back so he could look at her face properly. "It's getting dark. I'll fix up your hands and we'll make some dinner, alright?"

(Y/n) looked up at Fujin, her gaze meeting his as a faint smile played on her lips. She nodded in agreement, grateful for his care and concerned about the fading light. The thought of tending to her wounded hands and sharing a meal with him sounded comforting, a small respite from the turmoil that had consumed her.

With gentle movements, they disentangled themselves from each other's embrace and stood up. Fujin reached out a hand, offering it to (Y/n), and she took it without hesitation. They walked side by side, their fingers interlaced, as they made their way back through the forest toward the Sky Temple.

Inside, the soft glow of candlelight illuminated the cosy living space. The scent of incense lingered in the air, creating a serene atmosphere. She had began to find a comforting familiarity whenever she entered the temple, like the one she had felt a while ago when she lived with her father.

Fujin guided her to a comfortable seat, his movements gentle as he retrieved the supplies he would need to tend to his lover's battered hands, a basin of warm water, a towel and some bandages.

Sitting beside (Y/n), Fujin placed the basin of warm water in front of them, its soothing steam rising into the air. He unfolded the towel and carefully dipped it into the water, wringing it out before tenderly placing it over (Y/n)'s injured hands.

The warmth of the water enveloped her hands, easing the ache and tenderness she had ignored during her furious training. The sensation provided a stark contrast to the pain she had been inflicting upon herself, and she closed her eyes, allowing herself to fully immerse in the healing process.

Fujin's touch was gentle as he held her hands, his fingers caressing the edges of her wounds with utmost care. His eyes were filled with unwavering focus, ensuring that every gesture was delicate and precise. It was a testament to his dedication to her well-being.

In the midst of the silence, the only sound that filled the room was the gentle trickle of water droplets as Fujin carefully rinsed away the dried blood. (Y/n) watched him work, captivated by the tenderness in his touch and the unwavering love she saw reflected in his eyes.

As Fujin finished tending to her wounds, he reached for the bandages, gently wrapping them around her hands with meticulous care. With each turn, he secured the bandages in place, ensuring both support and protection for her healing injuries.

"These bandages will serve as a reminder," Fujin said, his voice holding a quiet reassurance. "A reminder of your resilience and the battles you have faced. They will bear witness to your strength and serve as a symbol of your indomitable spirit."

(Y/n) nodded, her hands cradled in Fujin's as she gazed down at the bandaged wounds. The pain had subsided, replaced by a subtle throbbing sensation that served as a reminder of her journey. Her scars, both physical and emotional, were not a sign of weakness, but of her survival so far in this harsh, cruel world.

Standing up, Fujin extended a hand toward (Y/n), inviting her to rise with him.

"Now, how about that meal, then?"

The night was beginning to settle, and with that, as were (Y/n) and Fujin.

While (Y/n) sat at the vanity in their room, brushing her hair with the light of a candle by her to guide her in the dark, Fujin prepared for bed by changing clothes - he fancied a pair of loose fitting pants for bed, and nothing else.

As she watched his reflection in the mirror, she couldn't help but admire him as she always did. His toned figured, his glowing tattoos, his long hair which reached past his waist. He was simply too much.

His presence was magnetic, and even in the dim light, he seemed to emit an ethereal glow. His tranquil demeanour and unwavering strength never failed to captivate her.

Putting the brush down, she turned her body to face him fully, her eyes tracing the lines of his figure as he moved gracefully. The way he effortlessly exuded confidence and poise was both mesmerizing and intimidating. It was as if he had mastered the art of being both gentle and formidable at the same time.

"You're quite the sight, Fujin," (Y/n) murmured, her voice filled with admiration. "Sometimes it's hard to believe that someone like you exists."

Fujin met her gaze, a soft smile playing on his lips.

"And yet, here I stand," he replied, his voice carrying a hint of playfulness. "Although, you're not one to talk now, are you?"

Fujin's playful response elicited a playful grin from (Y/n), adding a spark of light-heartedness to the room.

"Sit on the bed, you," she told him, picking her hairbrush up once again and standing up herself, "I want to brush your hair."

Fujin chuckled at (Y/n)'s request, pleasantly surprised by her suggestion. He walked over to the bed and sat down. The anticipation gleamed in (Y/n)'s eyes as she joined him, settling behind him with the hairbrush in her hand.

First, she began undoing his long braid, pulling the silver rings out of his hair and unfolding each wrap which his hair was in, admiring the way his hair had formed waves from the way it had been.

Then carefully, she began running the brush through his long, flowing hair, her touch gentle and soothing. Each stroke sent a comforting sensation through Fujin, as if the tensions of the day were being eased away. He closed his eyes, revelling in the intimate moment they shared.

As (Y/n) continued to brush his hair, her fingers occasionally grazing against his scalp, she found herself lost in the rhythmic motion. It was an act of tenderness, a gesture of trust and intimacy that went beyond words. The room was filled with a serene silence, broken only by the faint sound of the brush gliding through his silky strands.

"You have the most beautiful hair," (Y/n) whispered, her voice filled with genuine admiration. "It's so soft and lustrous. Taking care of it must be a ritual in itself."

Fujin hummed in response, a contented smile gracing his lips.

"Indeed, it is," he replied, his voice carrying a hint of tranquillity. "Taking care of oneself is a form of self-respect and self-care. It allows us to reconnect with our inner selves and find balance in our lives."

(Y/n) nodded in agreement, her fingers delicately combing through a tangle.

"It's fascinating how something as simple as brushing hair can be so soothing," she mused. "It's like a meditation, a way to be fully present in the moment."

Fujin tilted his head slightly, appreciating her insight.

"You have a remarkable ability to find beauty and meaning in the simplest of things," he remarked, his voice filled with admiration. "It's one of the many qualities I adore about you."

The room was engulfed in a tranquil atmosphere as they continued their quiet exchange. The brush moved through Fujin's hair, each stroke a symbol of their connection, their trust, and their deep affection for one another. Time seemed to stand still, as if the outside world had ceased to exist, and all that mattered was this intimate act of love and care.

As all of the knots and imperfections were removed from his hair, (Y/n) ran her fingers through his silky white strands, a smile of satisfaction plastered to her lips as she set her brush down.

"Would you like me to braid it again for you?" she asked, readjusting the way she sat behind him. "If you wouldn't mind," he nodded. "I'd hate for it to get tangled again when you spent so much time brushing it just now."

(Y/n) nodded with a warm smile, her fingers gently separating his hair into sections as she prepared to braid it once more. She enjoyed this intimate ritual, knowing that it brought them closer together and allowed them to share a moment of tranquillity before they retired for the night.

Carefully, she intertwined the strands, her hands moving with practiced ease. The rhythmic motion of her fingers weaving through his hair became a comforting melody, soothing both of their souls. As the braid took shape, it seemed to symbolize their connection, an unbreakable bond that wove their lives together.

Fujin leaned back, feeling the gentle tug on his hair as (Y/n) secured the braid. The sensation brought a sense of peace and contentment, knowing that she was there, taking care of him in the most tender way.

"There we go," she whispered softly, her voice carrying a sense of satisfaction. "A perfect braid, just for you."

Fujin turned his head slightly to catch a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror, admiring the neat braid that (Y/n) had skilfully crafted. The braid lay elegantly against his back, a testament to her care and attention to detail.

"Thank you," he murmured, his voice filled with gratitude. "You always take such good care of me." "Of course I do," she giggled, tenderly wrapping her arms around his neck from behind as she pressed her nose into the side of his neck. "Why wouldn't I? When you take such good care of me."

Fujin leaned into her embrace, his heart swelling with warmth and love. He savored the feeling of her arms around him, her gentle presence enveloping him like a soothing embrace.

"It's a privilege to care for you," he whispered, his voice filled with sincerity. "You bring so much light and joy into my life, and I want nothing more than to reciprocate that love and care."

He turned his head slightly, capturing her lips in a tender kiss. Their connection deepened in that moment, their love expressed through the softness of their touch. They sat there, wrapped in each other's arms, basking in the serenity and comfort of their love.

As they broke the kiss, their foreheads touched, their eyes locked in an intimate gaze. In that moment, words seemed unnecessary, as their love flowed between them, unspoken yet understood. They revelled in the tranquillity of their shared affection, knowing that in each other's arms, they had found their home.

It wasn't unusual that (Y/n) would find herself training with Fujin and Raiden, even when her skill had significantly improved over the course of the while she had known them and lived with them. It was important that she kept on top of her training and that she didn't let herself get sloppy in kombat, especially when she used to be such a reckless brute.

So there they all were, in the courtyard of the Sky Temple, Fujin watching intently as Raiden and (Y/n) sparred. The sound of their clashes echoed through the training grounds, filling the air with a mixture of determination and intensity.

Raiden's lightning surged forth, crackling with power as he unleashed a barrage of strikes, each one aimed with precision. (Y/n) expertly dodged and parried, her movements fluid and agile. She had come a long way since their first training sessions, her dedication and hard work evident in her improved kombat skills.

As they continued to spar, Fujin's gaze shifted between the two warriors, analysing their techniques and reactions. He observed the intricate dance of offense and defence, each fighter pushing themselves to their limits. The training session was not just about physical strength, but also mental fortitude and tactical decision-making.

(Y/n) had learned to harness her power and strike with purpose. No longer driven solely by raw strength, she had honed her combat instincts and adapted her style to become a more versatile fighter. Her movements were precise, her strikes calculated, and she demonstrated an impressive ability to exploit her opponents' weaknesses.

Even so, something seemed wrong, and he could tell that Raiden knew as well.

(Y/n) drove her bandaged fist at him, and Raiden caught her wrist, pausing the session momentarily.

"(Y/n), your progress is commendable," Raiden said, his voice resonating with authority. "But I sense hesitation in your movements. You must trust your instincts and act without hesitation. Embrace your training, and let your skills flow naturally."

(Y/n) took a deep breath, absorbing Raiden's words. She hadn't even really noticed any difference in her kombat, though she figured it must've been due to her overthinking considering her father, and all of her anxieties must have been having an impact on her performance.

She nodded, acknowledging his feedback. As he began letting go of her, she stepped forward and hooked one of her feet around one his ankles, pulling forward in an attempt to take him off of his feet. While he didn't fall, he did stumble ever so slightly, losing his balance a little and therefore his focus as well.

Raiden regained his balance quickly, impressed by (Y/n)'s swift counterattack. A hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips, acknowledging her resourcefulness.

With her great agility, she was able to pull off a nice back handspring to reset her kombat - perhaps a little over the top, but she was never one to shy away from showing off, especially when she could sense the smirk and the shake of the head from Fujin who knew she only did anything acrobatic to flash out her kombat.

She prepared herself for another attack, feeling her chest swell with mischief as she smirked devilishly at Raiden. This was the spirit she was missing within herself, and it was finally reflecting in her fighting again.

As she launched herself at Raiden, something went oh so horribly wrong.

Raiden watched as the look in her eyes changed, and before she could carry out her next movement, she cried out in pain, clutching her chest and falling to the ground.

She coiled in pain, and both Raiden and Fujin approached her, confused though most of all concerned.

Raiden and Fujin rushed to (Y/n)'s side, their worry evident in their eyes. They knelt beside her, their voices filled with urgency.

"(Y/n), what happened?" Raiden asked, his voice laced with concern. "Are you hurt? What's wrong?"

(Y/n) gasped for breath, her face contorted in pain as she struggled to speak. She could feel a sharp, stabbing sensation in her chest, rendering her unable to form coherent words. It felt as if an invisible force was constricting her, making it difficult to breathe.

Fujin pulled her back, cradling her in one arm while the other brushed the hair out of her face.

"Please, try to breathe my love," Fujin urged her, cupping her face in one hand.

"It's no use. Breathing, that is."

Fujin and Raiden looked up, trying desperately to find the source of the voice which spoke. It was unfamiliar, yet...they had heard it somewhere before, somehow.

Standing by a gathering of trees at the edge of the forest was a figure, though her identity was obscured by the shadows which surrounded her. They didn't seem to be any ordinary shadows however, it was as though they were at her command.

"I've constricted her breathing from the inside. No amount of silly little breathing exercises will save her."

Fujin didn't bother ask the woman's name and what exactly she wanted with (Y/n) just yet, deciding that it was obviously more important to get his lover breathing once again.

With his power, he performed somewhat of a kiss of life on (Y/n), parting her lips and placing his mouth against her open one, allowing a surge of oxygen to go through her. It was only a temporary solution, though it did get her breathing again, as she coughed and spluttered after he pulled away.

"Who are you?? And what is the meaning of this??" Raiden demanded, his voice booming with authority as he spoke.

"We have not yet met, Raiden. Though I do believe you will all recognise me in...some aspects."

The stranger emerged from her place amongst the trees, the shadows around her dispersing as she took slow, intimidating steps towards them. And as her face became clear to them all, they were all much too stunned to speak.

(Y/n) felt a sense of pure dread wash over her when she was met with her own face, her own body. But...it wasn't her. She was her. This was not her. What obviously set the two of them a part was the difference in the saturation of colour of their skin. (Y/n)'s skin was healthy and full of colour, but this stranger, her skin was ashy and dull and covered in ancient symbols of evil.

(Y/n) had been good friends with Mileena in the past. She knew exactly what this was.

The stranger bowed slightly, a glint of mischievous evil in her eyes.

"My name is Kexin Tsung. I'm here to replace (Y/n)…and bring her head to Shao Kahn."

They remained in a stunned silence for a moment longer, trying their hardest to gage the situation at hand.

With all the strength she could muster, (Y/n) managed to hoist herself up, with the assistance of Fujin who stood up with her, holding her so she would remain steady.

"...my...my father created you," she panted, nearly wheezing from not only her exertion from before but also the way she had been strangled from the inside. "He created you in the flesh pits, with my DNA." "He's our father now, (Y/n)," Kexin corrected her, her smirk condescending and evil. "Don't you see? We're sisters." "You are not my sister," (Y/n) protested, clenching her fists tightly. "You're a weapon, created with the sole purpose of mass destruction. You don't have the capacity nor the room in your heart for the concept of family."

Kexin Tsung's expression twisted into a malevolent sneer, her eyes burning with an unhinged fervour.

"Oh, but dear sister, you underestimate the power that courses through my veins," she hissed, her voice dripping with venom. "I am a perfect amalgamation of your DNA and the dark sorcery of our father. I possess all your strengths and none of your weaknesses. Together, we could have been unstoppable."

Kexin took a few steps closer, bearing her weapon which seemed to be a flashed out Chain whip which had been modified to her specific tastes, and her sneer returned to a smirk once again.

"Though, I have different orders now. Shao Kahn wants your head, and I plan to deliver it to him."

Fujin held (Y/n) close to him in a protective way. His eyes narrowed, filled with resolute and a flicker of wind swirling around him.

"You will not have it, Kexin," Fujin told her, his voice firm and unwavering. "We will not let you harm (Y/n)."

Kexin let out a mocking, hysterical burst of laughter, placing a hand over her chest as if she couldn't take it.

"Oh, dear. This is simply too good," she cackled, unable to contain herself. "Your lover thinks he can protect you from me, sister. Isn't that just precious?"

Her laughter subsided to little giggles, and she covered her mouth ever so slightly.

"Won't it be absolutely hysterical when he has to watch me tear your body apart? Though, I suppose you won't get to see that now, will you?"

Fujin's grip on (Y/n) tightened, and he felt rage fill his body for the first time in a long, long time. Though, before he could say anything in retaliation, Kexin lurched forward, her chain whip slashing through the air with a malevolent speed. Fujin swiftly stepped back, pulling (Y/n) out of harm's way, narrowly avoiding the deadly strike. The chain whip whistled past them, missing its intended target by mere inches.

Raiden summoned a surge of lightning, crackling and dancing along his fingertips. He directed the bolts towards Kexin, aiming to immobilize her and create an opening for his allies. But Kexin, showing remarkable agility, swiftly dodged the electrical onslaught, weaving through the charged currents with unnatural grace.

"Impressive," Kexin taunted, her voice dripping with derision. "But you'll need more than some silly magic tricks to defeat me."

She held her chain whip between both hands, and seemed to focus on it for only a moment, before it was surrounded by a dark magic, one which would no doubt make the weapon she wielded much more deadly.

Raiden took a step forward, electricity crackling along his form. He raised his hands, ready to summon a more potent surge of lightning, though this time he would allow himself to merge the attack with his kombat. Hastily, he made his first movement, a direct hit with his palm, though Kexin was quick to dodge it, bringing her chain whip around and aiming to hit Raiden in the head with it. He ducked when he noticed it coming, dodging the attack with ease. He seized the opportunity to retaliate, using his lightning-infused palms to launch a barrage of rapid strikes towards Kexin. The bolts of electricity crackled through the air, seeking to overwhelm her defences.

But Kexin, displaying her enhanced agility, maneuvered through the lightning strikes with astonishing speed and grace. She twisted and contorted her body, evading each attack with an uncanny precision. It was clear that her dark magic had heightened her reflexes and granted her an advantage in kombat.

Though, it was obvious what she was trying to do. She was trying to out manoeuvre Raiden to gain access to (Y/n). Neither of the storm brothers would have this.

Fujin was quick to swoop (Y/n) from off of her feet, his intentions with taking her elsewhere while he allowed Fujin to deal with the situation at hand.

He could sense the exhaustion in her body, and he wanted to ensure her safety and well-being away from the battlefield.

"I've got you," Fujin murmured softly, his voice filled with reassurance. "I'll find somewhere safe to take you. She will not have you."

Typically, (Y/n) hated when Fujin defended her, especially concerning personal matters like this. Though, as of now, she was much too tired to argue with him, and her control on her breathing was slipping again, making it hard for her to speak anyways.

He didn't want to have to separate her, especially when she was like this. However, how was he to protect her otherwise?

Fujin took her up into the temple, toward their shared room, hoping he could tuck her into bed and stay nearby, should she need any more immediate attention.

Carefully, Fujin laid (Y/n) on their bed, ensuring she was comfortable and secure. He adjusted the blankets around her, tucking her in with a tender touch. His concern for her well-being was evident in his every movement.

Though, as she felt herself coming back, she seemed to fuss, sitting up and trying to push Fujin away from her.

"...I need to do this, Fujin," she told him, her tone firm but her voice was weak. "...this is my burden to bare. I can't have you and Raiden fight this for me."

Fujin's brows furrowed with concern as he gently reached out to steady (Y/n) and ease her back onto the bed. His eyes reflected his love and worry for her.

"My love, I understand your desire to take on your own burdens," Fujin responded, his voice filled with tenderness. "But you are in no state to be fighting. You need to rest. Let Raiden and I handle this." "I can't! It's not fair on you!" (Y/n) snapped, her voice trembling as she tried once again to push Fujin off of her. "This is my problem, and my problem alone."

Fujin's grip on (Y/n) tightened, gently but firmly, refusing to let her push him away. Her stubborn nature was something that he both loved and hated about her. It was admirable how strong she was, and how unwilling she was to simply give up and throw the towel in. However, this also meant that she didn't know when to quit, and naturally, this was detrimental.

"As much as I love you, my feather," Fujin began, cupping her face in both of his hands as a small, teasing smile tugged at his lips. "You are infuriating."

(Y/n) couldn't help but roll her eyes playfully, her gaze meeting Fujin's.

"What, and you're not?" she jabbed light-heartedly, placing her hands over his as she melted into his touch.

"Certainly not as much as you," he sighed, one of his hands tracing upward so it could thread in her hair. "Even so, I wouldn't trade it for anything."

He leaned in and placed a tender kiss against her forehead. For a moment, (Y/n) had completely forgotten about what was going on, Fujin always seemed to have that effect on her - calming, soothing, and he could always lull her into a sense of security, false or not.

As she felt like she could finally give in, a crash rang out through the temple. Particularly, outside of their room.

The door crashed open as someone was thrown through it.

Raiden, and his limp yet still alive body. He groaned, covered in blood, wounded over a significant portion of his body. All was silent as Kexin walked in after him, casually as though it were nothing. Her sight flickered between Raiden and the couple on the bed, and the she stared at her nails.

"Goodness, he wasn't much of a challenge now, was he?" Kexin sighed, bored as she approached him again, giving him a little kick.

(Y/n) was horrified at the sight. If Raiden was folded, then surely she wouldn't stand much of a chance. Just who was she spliced with? It obviously had to be someone pretty formidable, though she couldn't quite put her finger on the symbols which decorated Kexin's skin, and why on earth they looked so familiar.

Fujin stood up, in front of his lover, prepared to defend her in whatever way he had to to ensure her safety.

His hands clenched into fists at his sides, ready to unleash his divine wind upon Kexin if necessary. The sight of Raiden injured and the threat posed by Kexin only fueled his resolve to keep (Y/n) safe at all costs.

"You will not harm her," Fujin declared, his voice steady and filled with a quiet but resolute power. "You will not lay another finger on anyone in this temple."

Kexin smirked, seemingly unfazed by Fujin's display of defiance. She slowly approached, her chain whip slithering along the ground behind her.

"My dear brother-in-law, always the protector," she taunted, her voice dripping with disdain. "But you cannot save her. Your powers, your wind, mean nothing to me."

Fujin's eyes narrowed, a gust of wind swirling around him in response to Kexin's words. He braced himself, ready to face her head-on.

As Kexin closed the distance between them, Fujin summoned a powerful gust of wind, aiming to knock her off balance and create an opportunity to strike. The tempest roared around him, carrying the force of his determination and protecting his beloved (Y/n) behind him.

Kexin, however, displayed her agility once again, gracefully dodging the wind currents with an uncanny ease. She moved with a calculated grace, her chain whip poised to strike.

With a swift movement, she lashed out, the chain whip slicing through the air towards Fujin. He deftly evaded the attack, his body moving with the fluidity of the wind itself.

In a counterattack, Fujin summoned a powerful burst of wind from his palms, aiming to buffet Kexin with a force that could render her momentarily vulnerable. The blast struck true, momentarily staggering Kexin and allowing Fujin to press his advantage.

But Kexin was resilient. Despite the wind's force, she quickly regained her composure and retaliated with a flurry of lightning-quick strikes from her chain whip. Fujin skilfully maneuvered, deflecting and evading the attacks, his wind serving as both a shield and a means to strike back.

Though, as they fought, Kexin was monitoring anything she deemed weak in Fujin, and ultimately, his reluctance to kill her immediately was his catalyst.

Her chain whip whirled through the air, delivering swift and precise strikes that Fujin struggled to evade. He attempted to summon his wind to shield himself, but it faltered, unable to provide adequate protection against Kexin's onslaught.

Her power was unlike anything that any of them had ever seen, and (Y/n) could do nothing but sit there, paralyzed, as she tried to think of something - anything to do.

It was only when she saw Kexin knock Fujin to the ground before grabbing onto his throat and lifting him back onto his feet when (Y/n) felt the adrenaline kick in.

She stood up abruptly.'

"Spare him, please! I'll come with you," she spluttered, her voice trembling as her eyes filled with tears.

There was a brief pause in Kexin's actions, as she regarded (Y/n) with a mix of amusement and curiosity. The grip on Fujin's throat loosened slightly, but Kexin maintained her hold, keeping him restrained.

"You'll surrender yourself? To save your lovers life?" She asked, following her speech was a condescending snicker. "How cute." "(Y/n), you mustn't-"

Fujin was cut off by the way Kexin fastened her hand tight around his throat again, causing him to choke and splutter as he clawed at her hand desperately.

"Yes, I'll surrender myself," (Y/n) said, her voice quivering. "But only if you release him and promise not to harm him or Raiden any further."

This was it, this was her opportunity to have Shao Kahn wrapped around her finger. Oh, how easy it was, human sentiment was so feeble and easy to manipulate. She giggled, dropping Fujin before she approached (Y/n).

Before anyone knew it, (Y/n) had been restrained, and in a burst of smoke, both she and Kexin were gone.

A/n: WHY DO I KEEP DOING THIS TO MYSELF AGGGHHH

#fujin mortal kombat #fujin x reader #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat 11

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stingslikeabee · 2 months ago

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@il-mostrc sent: plots please -- let's hear it :]

[ from send me “plots please” . accepting ]

I am so glad that you have sent me this prompt because I am seemingly being haunted by Hannibal references everywhere, so working on these ideas made the braincell happy. I broke this into one canon and two AUs because why not.

canon. Hannibal is a respected psychiatrist that still consults for the FBI; Melissa is under Chilton's care. She has been featured in the tabloids in the usual scandalous fashion for criminal cases, labeled as a threat to herself and society and committed to the institution while waiting for trial... But something doesn't add up. Chilton is way too reserved about her case, and the sensationalism about a violent rampage that almost took her husband as a victim looks suspicious. It doesn't take long for Hannibal to figure out she's been framed (having framed others for his crimes himself), and that Chilton is being paid a very generous sum of money to keep her there, supporting allegations of 'insanity' while Melissa's husband takes her fortune and properties for himself. Melissa is out for revenge - on her husband, on Chilton, on everyone who accepted to be a part of that farse, and maybe there is a god with a cruel sense of humor somewhere that saw fit to make Hannibal cross her path.

AU. 'Jack the Ripper' is terrorizing London, and Melissa feels she has to do something to protect her girls - a confession the brothel owner shares with Doctor Lecter, unaware that one of her best clients is the killer himself. Melissa was familiar with a couple of the girls who were murdered, and as panic increased in the streets and customers turned increasingly afraid to visit pleasure houses, Hannibal remained loyal and understanding of her plight. Eventually, she discloses that the police had asked for her help, and that she was collaborating with the Scotland Yard - a fact that makes Hannibal stick around rather than plot to actively get rid of the madame, given the importance of the information she could bring to him. It feels like the most optimal arrangement, with a source from the police so readily available and trusting him... Until Hannibal realizes it may not be so simple. Maybe Melissa was smarter than he gave her credit for, attempting to lure him into a trap with false leads and seeking to hunt the hunter.

AU. Hannibal, the heir to the throne of a distant land, was once forced to flee during war, having lost all of his family (including his darling sister) in the aftermath. Exiled, he turned into a sharp, cunning young man, who returned to reclaim his birthright from the usurpers with remarkable violence and bloodshed. Unfortunately, Melissa is among those who are to be subjugated by his revenge. In what many call a cruel display of power, Hannibal has started a trend of sending for a young woman, to be selected from the ranks of those who once oppressed him, and then give her a chance of entertaining him for a night - or perish at his hands under torture, a far better deal than his sister was offered in the past. The horrifying tradition happens every month, keeping people afraid and labeling him a 'monster', even if some of them forgot they once supported the armies that also deprived Hannibal of his family and ancestral home. Tired of the bloodshed, Melissa, the eldest daughter of one of the men who served the prior government, volunteers - and miraculously survives the first night. It falls to her the job of repeating the feat, over and over, until the monster is either tamed (or she turns into one herself).

I also wanted to note that Phantom of the Opera was a strong contender for an AU here, but I opted to elaborate on these other two because it felt like cheating to propose that to a writer that has also mused Erik before, haha. Rewatching the 2004 movie did not make this easy though, particularly when I remembered the first 'fake' opera they rehearse is titled 'Hannibal'. I'm sure you can see the Erik/Christine and the Hannibal/Melissa parallels and I have something in my queue that will be extra perfect now.

#il-mostrc #ilmostrc #plots please #replied #also yes I did steal from Scheherazade for the third one #I was also considering a more magical AU #with a big bad wolf and swans and everything #but mixing that tale and canon Hannibal things made me happier

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nectaric · 11 months ago

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TOP 10 MOST SIGNIFICANT MOMENTS IN ZEUS' LIFE:

choose ten moments within your muses' life - moments that have impacted them the most - and explain why. moments can be good, bad, or both. tagging: you!

10. the life and death of metis. metis' significance in zeus' life is not to be understated. she taught him nearly everything he knows. he loved her, deeply, and her death at his hands was horrific and impacted him heavily. but their relationship was never healthy. it bordered on co-dependency, and zeus' infatuation with her was immature and toxic. for all his guilt, and suffering, and love for her - he can see now how much worse it could have gotten. he wishes he could undo it, but he is afraid to imagine how much more horrible he might have been to her if it had progressed any longer. 10/10 impactful but in a very convoluted way.

9. birth of dionysus (and death of semele). the love zeus possessed for semele was very different from the love he had for metis. it was strong, genuine, honest. it was born of respect and trust, which is difficult for him to do. he adored her, and it was because of this that he lost her. he was too trusting and too quick to act, throwing himself at her feet with reckless abandon. and he lost her. it was gruesome and graphic. and then, what he endured to keep dionysus alive (not just the physical trauma, but the emotional as well) is etched onto his brain. watching dionysus live only to then have to spend so much time away from him was equally difficult.

8. childhood pre-titanomachy. many of zeus' complexes, desires, and issues were born in this time. he grew up almost entirely alone, save for the rare visit from his mother or his grandmother's check-ins. he lived in isolation that was consuming, that made him long so desperately for a family it hurt. in this time, i also headcanon that he suffered a lot of abuse at the hands of gaia that became such an ingrained part of his life and identity that he took centuries to even recognize them as abuse. that isolation, and the suffering, and the childlike wonder that became tainted by sheer desperation for family really set him up for interesting and complicated relationships in the future.

7. gigantomachy. this is the first real threat zeus faces with his entire family on the line. the stakes feel higher, the danger more apparent, his worry even greater. he spreads himself a little too thin trying to ensure they're all safe - and in some cases, does not necessarily succeed. he's nearly too late before porphyrion assaults his wife. ares is captured. there are too many close calls, and though they are ultimately successful, there is another nagging problem. gaia, the one who raised him, the all powerful goddess who should have been on his side, has now turned on him. though zeus did not yet know exactly what the implications of that could be, it was a betrayal nonetheless.

6. the attempted coup. zeus had trust issues to begin with. he was paranoid, jaded, and cruel, and this is what drove his family to betray him. while this was a wake up call many years down the line, in the moment it only served to make zeus angrier and more paranoid. the act itself was difficult for him, being chained down and fearing for his throne and safety. but what it did to his trust in everyone around him was terrible, and he became even more guarded for a long time as a result.

5. marrying hera. she is the love of his life, the apple of his eye, the mother of his children, and he adores her. all of this is naturally very important, and its impact should not be ignored, but the other part of marrying hera that is very significant is that she is his equal. he had someone at his side to help rule the cosmos, and she filled those shoes perfectly. she has saved him from so much stress and solved so many problems, that he could not imagine ruling with anybody else at his side. true loves and incredible leaders!

4. titanomachy. ten years of war began when zeus was barely a teenager, and he was expected to lead, fight, and succeed in toppling an entire kingdom. it was daunting, to say the least, and was a grueling series of battles that left him and his family scarred. in this time though, zeus came to understand himself, his capabilities, and his desires. he found his first love. he reunited and bonded with family. he became a king, loathe as he was to do so. the entire period is so informative for zeus and who he is, that the only reason it isn't higher is because the other three are doozies.

3. dying in "titans 2". this is purely based in the world of roleplay and a thread with a friend, but at one point, the gods were unseated by an alliance of their worst enemies. zeus was killed, his soul banished to tartarus, during which time he experienced torture and isolation. though he was ultimately rescued, and assumed his throne after a very difficult war, such a tremendous loss weighed heavily on him. it is, ultimately, what i think drives zeus to step down at some point and drastically impacts his current mentality.

2. becoming king of the gods. i mean, naturally, this would change the course of anyone's life. zeus had been fighting for this moment since he was very young, and had been leading since he was a preteen. but this solidified not only that the war had been won, but that prophecy was true, that his hard work had paid off - and that he was up against an eternity in a very difficult position. being king completely changed his personality, his health, his relationships, and has been a world changing event as well.

1. defeated by typhoeus. in my canon for zeus, he faced off against typhoeus alone after much of his family fled in fear. he lost. typhoeus tortured him for weeks before hermes was able to assist in setting him free. zeus has genuinely never been the same sense - the mental, physical, and emotional toll of what he endured still sits heavy on his shoulders. it was also the spark that convinced zeus to become a better father, king, and person. it drastically changed the course of his life, and more than anything, is what has impacted him the most.

#zeus.#headcanon.#save.#many of these are not “moments” i am aware of that JDHFNDM but. you know what i mean #also i did this for hades ages ago and i realized i never did it for zeus so here we are

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marshalforgotten · 11 months ago

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ACHIEVED//

Memories Served

ACHIEVED for a scene from my muse's past in which they completed / achieved something they were proud of

-----

"A high advisor?" the ivory monkey questioned, tilting her head.

Before her and the humans she lived with stood a king, one who ruled these lands in particular. A thick crown of gold ringed around his head with red stone at its center, to mark his status among the people. Said material also fashioned his earrings and woven necklaces went around neck. A cape made of leopard's pelt draped down his bare backside and onto floor, whilst orange skirt along with sandals kept his modesty. Despite the greying hairs on his beard, man was well built for his age. However such factors did not goad him into hubris, as evident by two soldiers who stood vigilant on his sides.

The groups were currently upon a balcony; overlooking capital, as sun began to set on horizon. Being called here instead of throne room was a change in their usual exchanges. Alkebu-lan could still recall the day she offered herself to help discover disappearing treasure's whereabouts. How amusing his surprise was! After her bargaining with the Grootslang, she, mother and siblings ended up visiting palace a few more times to help with certain matters.

This time however the king deigned to inform them on upcoming ideas he wished to lay out. Specifically, with monkey becoming a new, special category of advisor amongst his counsel.

The ruler nodded, his dark skin shining against golden glow of atmosphere.

"Yes. I have contemplated this for quite some time now, ever since your feat with finding and returning our jewels. Your recent accomplishments with the destruction of the popobawa however has left little room for doubt." As he explained this, the king poured banana wine into his chalice. He turned his head, gazing upon bustling town with sincerity. "My kingdom has always been... divided, plagued with warring tribes. It has long been my dream to move this nation forward and establish peace. With your help, lucky monkey I believe I can accomplish just that."

At this, Alkebu-lan frowned in contemplation.

"That sounds like quite the noble dream, my king. I cannot however leave those who first found me behind."

At this the king chuckled and set his cup down. "I am aware of your loyalty, baboon. It is one of your more endearing qualities... and it is very well placed. That is why I propose this idea."

He moved over besides surrogate mother, taking her hand in his. Both gazed at each other and Alkebu-lan saw a familiar expression on Andrietta's visage- one she wore when speaking of late husband. Now however there was less sadness.

"I will take captain Andrietta as my wife and her adopted children shall live in the palace with me. That is-" he brought bald woman's hand towards face and bowed his head, pressing nose's tip against knuckles with closed eyes; a sign of submission in their culture. "If she will have me."

At this, Andrietta's lithe fingers caressed his cheek drawing his rusty eyes to look into her caramel jewels. They were loving and lips smiled.

"If my king thinks me worthy, I will try not to disappoint."

"Wait-" chimed in the disbelieving voice of the young man, Tebello. "We are going to live in the palace now!?"

At this the young girl behind him squealed, before tackling Alkebu-lan into a hug.

"By the stars! Sister! Sister! We really are going to be living here! Mama found a man! We are going to become royalty!" Thandiwe exclaimed gleefully.

While surprised at first, her little sister's joy was infectious. Chitters escaping Alkebu-lan, she scooped girl into an embrace and spun around.

"Well if you put it that way, who am I to refuse?"

No longer would this family worry about gathering food, or monsters prowling in the night. Now, they would be safe with bellies full.

#a person is a person because of other people (ic)#knowledge is a garden. if it isn't cultivated you can't harvest it (answered ask)#lon3lyqu3en #((she felt so happy that her mother and siblings wouldn't be at risk to the elements anymore))#((even to this day she considers it one of her greatest accomplishments))

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sublimeflowoftime · 2 years ago

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Girl on the Throne

Closed RP account for Sothis. Affiliated with The Officers Academy. Pinned Post serving as an FAQ. Last updated: 3/22

Mobile Links: About Stats Tags

How does Sothis work?

In the past I went full in on the “Sothis is a ghost” thing, which I believe made it a little difficult for others to interact with her. To combat this, Sothis is now a mostly physical person with limits. She can touch things, she can be touched, however it uses far more of her power to do so on top of the power she already uses to keep herself visible, and it makes her very sleepy if she does it too much or for too long. This shouldn’t really effect anything IC beyond a bit of internal flavor on my end and is mostly just me giving it a downside to justify the canon diversion to myself, so you can interact with Sothis as if she is a normal person! Just don’t question why she can fly shush it’s fine totally normal.

Can my muse see her?

Yes. She is visible to everyone now! She is not quite used to this yet either don't worry it's just as weird to her as it is to you.

Three Houses/Hopes Spoilers below: [Tagged: #{Careful now. — Spoilers}]

What does Sothis know right now?

She knows she is bound to the Byleths, though she does not know why or how, and that is all she knows. Nothing more.

#{Metal has something to report! — OOC}#{To you both sides of time are revealed. — Pinned}#{Careful now. — Spoilers}#//updated to make her hopefully easier to interact with!! yay :softsmile:#//ghostyness I shall miss you but it is a small price to pay for more accessible friendship

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lastxdragon · 1 year ago

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RP: Treachery Most Foul

There would always be those who questioned. In absolute truth, Jaime did not care. He had never cared what others thought of him. If he had, then he would have looked Ned Stark in the eyes and told him the truth to why he’d killed the Mad King, instead, he had kept his lips sealed and allowed the rest of the world to title him the Kingslayer.

The only person he had ever cared about when it came to their opinion had been his sister, and she had turned against him in the end for the Iron Throne, for Lancel Lannister and Osmund Kettleblack. Disgusting. The mere thought made a fire burn in the pits of his belly even now, years after, and even after the death of his twin. But now, he was beginning to realise, that there were only few people who he cared what they thought of him, and one of those was the woman that stood before him. The others, his little brother, and Brienne of Tarth, but Brienne had always stayed loyal to the Starks, and now? They may very well be pitted against one another if worse came to worst.

When Daenerys’ hand went to the collar of his tunic, he felt his breath hitch, caught in his throat for a moment. How long had it been since he’d had a woman’s hands upon him? Too long, he thought, and yet, it was so out of line to think anything but innocence from it. But Dany was not a girl, she was a woman, she was a hardened, battle-worn woman now, who had watched people lie and betray her just like everyone else who was in power. Gods, who would want for such a thing?

Jaime flinched harder than he wanted to when the knock was heard, and he took a step back, a hand at his sword in fear. How silly, no one that was going to murder the Queen would give a polite knock on the door. He settled when it was just the serving girl, the tension in his arms loosening. All he did was nod in confirmation when Missandei left to gather the blankets.

“I doubt I will do much sleeping,” he replied once they were back in the privy of one another. “But to answer your question, I do not fear what simple minds have to think of me.” He didn’t fear much at all, if he were honest, just the loss of Tyrion, and losing his honour again.

“The Kingdom’s have been at war for a long time, too long if you ask me. I have done many regrettable things, but some of them I would do again if it meant saving the people I care about. That includes you, Your Grace.” He had no problem admitting that, he was part of her guard now. It was his duty.

“I didn’t come here to serve in your guard like my Lord Father would have.” Simply because she was winning the war. “We have all lost because of this war. I do not regret slaying your father, despite how it may sound. He wished to kill the common folk of King’s Landing, and anyone else in his path. But I knew your brother. He was a good man, and you have earned your crown, and the respect of your men.” Jaime included. “I know I serve in good faith.”

PRIVATE ROLEPLAY: DO NOT REBLOG IF YOU ARE NOT MY PARTNER.

@call-2-arms ╣❦╠ ƈօռզʊɛʀɨռɢ ֆȶօʀʍ ❧

Dany noted the faint hitch when she touched his collar. It was a surprise, though not an unpleasant one. Of course, she was aware that Ser Jaime was still a handsome man despite his age. The difference in their ages meant nothing to Dany, who had been married to Drogo with a much larger difference so long ago. She feigned not to see his flinch as Missandei brought the extra bedding into the room and tended the fires. The door closed again a few minutes later and Ser Jaime spoke first. She sighed. “One of the things I appreciate the most about you is your honesty, Ser Jaime. It’s a rare quality.”

Her smile softened at his declaration. Jhogo, Aggo and Rahkaro had been loyal to her due to Drogo. Ser Jorah for his own desires. There was an irony that the one man who was honorably loyal to her was a Lannister. “This is not my first war, though I pray it shall be my last. The ones who suffer the most are the ones who want it the least,” Daenerys mused, pausing to take a sip of wine. “When this charade is over, I will no longer remain here while my people fight my battles.” She lifted a hand, anticipating a protest. “The quicker this war is over, the fewer who will suffer of it.”

“Come. I do not think I’ll have much use of sleep either, but we should try,” Dany chuckled, taking her glass as she crossed into her spacious bed chamber. The larger settee was midway across the floor between the door and the bed itself and she could see that it was prepared. Tonight Dany only removed her tunic dress and boots, keeping on her undertunic and pants. Slipping under the thick fur quilt, she began unbraiding her hair. “You are not the first to compare me to my brother. I know they called him the last dragon, but they were wrong. I am. I am the last.”

If she meant dragon or Targaryen, Daenerys did not elaborate. There was a small pause before she spoke again, her tone softer. “I have seen him, you know. Rhaegar. From a young age, I dreamed of him. I saw and heard him playing his silver harp. I even saw my nephew, Aegon, once. Would it surprise you to know that my dreams come true? At least, the ones of the present. The first time I dreamed, I told Viserys. He beat me and said I was lying so I never spoke of it again. Until now. In one dream, Rhaegar was atop a stallion on the Trident, ribbons flowing from his helm, fighting beings of ice, but when I lifted his visor, it was my face within.”

#lastxdragon #daenerys stormborn #call-2-arms#ser jaime lannister #treachery most foul rp #got au #private roleplay

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pnkb1tch-archive · 2 years ago

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VERSE DROP : court of tides .

Born to the Western Kingdom of Essetir, Court of Tides, Prince Arlo's destiny has been pretty much predetermined since he was old enough to tie his own laces. The eldest Thompson child is a woman, Tiffany, and thus she is not expected to ascend the throne–however, from an early age it was clear that Arlo was not meant to lead, and his pretty face made it that much easier for the King and Queen to prepare the boy for life as a courtesan/mistress. It was ultimately decided that whatever man Tiffany might marry would be King, as their son could be an Essitirian heir, with both his father's blood and their mother's royal blood.

Essetir borders the warrior Kingdom of Castremam ( in conjuncture with @tartt9 ) on the west, overseeing a series of port towns and inland towns closer to the castle. Several trade routes pass through Essetir and are only accessible through their many ports, thus making the Kingdom an incredibly strong trade economy. Thanks to Essetir's topographical position, the Kingdom is also home to several smaller fishing and farming villages, meaning they are rich in resources as capital. It seems like Essetir has it all, from a vast amount of land, to highly coveted trade routes and an abundance of resources–however, they are very much lacking in military power, and despite the political scheming of the ruling class nobles, if faced with a hostile takeover or coup, Essetir would likely fall. This where Prince Arlo comes in. Should Essetir wish to ever align themselves with a strong military power and form an allegiance with a stronger kingdom, they plan to marry Arlo off to that kingdom's prince or princess. This is how Prince Arlo discovers his love of music and his people. In her endeavors to make Arlo an appealing pawn, Queen Veronica ensures that Arlo receives training in all the forms of finery as she sees fit–etiquette training, musical training, political literacy–Arlo is coached on how to sit, how to speak, and how to appease. Queen Veronica doesn't count on Arlo's love of music, however; at age 16 the boy begins composing his own music and performing in the city for nobles and commonfolk alike. Disliking that Arlo has developed an interest outside of serving the throne and fulfilling his role as a pawn, Queen Veronica demands that Arlo cease his musical training and be confined to the castle the following weeks. Having spent his entire life doing exactly what he's told, when he's told, Arlo escapes the castle and runs away to a neighbouring fishing village. For a week he is not found, and he trades song and story for shelter with the village locals, befriending everyone down to the town crones and the tavern drunks. When he is finally found by a search party of knights, for the first time in his life, Arlo makes a demand of his parents–either they let him continue his pursual of music, both in lesson and in practice, or he'll do this again. He'll make their lives living hell lest they allow him this one freedom. Impressed by his sudden bravery, and worried by their eldest daughter's increasingly headstrong behavior, the King and Queen agree to Arlo's terms. From there on, Arlo continues composing his own music, eventually composing poetry and literature as well, and becomes known across Essetir as the Kingdom's Shining Jewel. His songs are known all throughout the land, and he himself is known as a prince of the people. The ruling class nobles all look down their noses at Arlo for it, and are ever-eager to marry him off and out of Essetir for good. Prince Arlo will likely never marry for love, and lest he is rescued by some outside party or interloper, he will likely never be free of the Essitirian Court's thumb. He is destined to be a pawn…that is, unless your muse decides otherwise.

#╰ * VERSE FIVE : V5 ⧽ court of tides .

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inthewings-ofthedragonking · 8 months ago

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My Own

Creator

Was Crueler Than My Enemies Ever Were

I Think I Need to Leave

#{made to serve her very throne - musings}#au #aus #alternate universe #pokemon #metal sonic #sonic the hedgehog #sonic au

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bruiisedpetals-a · 2 years ago

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𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐍 𝐊𝐀𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐊 / 𝐘𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐍𝐎𝐖

h.o.t.d. the ruling lord of karhold and house karstark. — g.o.t. the secondborn and bastard son of ruling lord rickard karstark; sometimes called the grey son.

twenty eight. fabien frankel. karhold, the north. [secondary/trial muse.]

general g.o.t. verse: half-brother of lord heir harrion karstark, he is the bastard son of ruling lord rickard karstark and a reachborn whore by the name of lillian. he is not legitimised, but has grown up alongside his half-siblings and shares a distant but friendly enough relationship with them. his father is somewhat disconnected but has never treated him with cruelty, and the lady karstark has also been civil to him though he represents his fathers' affair. though yoren is treated akin to a fostered outsider, rather than a member of the family and his bastardy isn't often a joke; owing to the ire mentions of the affair elicit from lady karstark. called the grey son mainly due to his habit of wearing a neutral grey garb (armour, clothing, even his saddlebag and sheath are all shades of grey) & the grey of his sealskin pelted cloak, his half-brother and father had taken to wearing black chainmail, so this also made him stand out as the grey 'son', whilst also serving as a misnomer due to his bastardy. this colour motif originally stemmed from his wearing of harrion's hand-me-downs; they were often faded.

general ho.t.d verse: he was already serving as the ruling lord of karhold at the start of the dance. yoren is the direct descendent of the founder of their house, karlon stark. yoren became lord of karhold after his father, kerron karstark, suffered a horrible fall from his horse and sustained a level of paralysis. kerron became angry and resentful after his accident, lashing out at his family and, briefly (before he was removed from public), towards his men and people. he now keeps himself locked away in his room, seperate from his wife, and sees no one bar a maester and his servants. yoren was castellan for six years, and when he was twenty two, he officially took over rule from his father who hadn't been seen in several years.

details. age & canon ref. dance era. birth: 103AC — the year jaehaerys targaryen, the old king, dies and the year viserys i targaryen is crowned king. yoren will be around twenty-six years old at the beginning of the civil war, and around twenty-eight when it concludes. game era. birth: 277AC — the same year as garland tyrell is born. yoren will be around twenty-one at the beginning of a game of thrones (aka. season 1), and he will be around twenty-eight approaching the two final seasons.

personality and game of thrones timelines explained under cut! note; yoren has two different timelines to operate in based on location.

personality traits. + summary.

(hotd) — there is a spiteful part of him that, due to his fathers accident and behaviour placing him as castellan and then lord, he wants to experience more than just karhold and lordship. this conflicts with his firmness in being northernborn and a dedicated leader, so he tries to balance both. he uses his duties as a way to avoid a marriage, claiming that he will once his father is 'well' (an impossibility) ... to allow him to remain uncommitted in at least one of the two great aspects of his life, he's openly flirtatious and arguably promiscuous, at least by the standards of someone who 'should' be married at this point. he cares greatly about his mother, but she has become more and more dedicated to the gods and less in her family since the accident, his only sibling is a brother four years his junior. going into the dance, house karstark follows house stark's support of the blacks. [note: there is no karstark lore in the targaryen era, so details are up to plotting!] (got) — he has somewhat of a chip on his shoulder at being a very clear outsider, like seeing a life he can't have though a thin pane of glass; just out of reach. it's tied less so to the concept of being a lord, or titled, but more that he knows his only kin in the region are no better than passing acquaintences. part of him does wish he had the authority to act as reckless as he feels sometimes, but being half northern and half reachborn, he also feels less valid in defending himself as being worthy of being at karhold. positive. adventurous, appreciative, charismatic & charming, dedicated, dutiful, firm, hardworking, honourable, leaderly, observant, persuasive, romantic, secure, strong, tolerant. neutral. aggressive, competitive, deceptive, dominating, high-spirited, noncommittal, proud, religious/mystical, sensual, stubborn. negative. assertive, brutal, cynical, disrespectful, hedonistic, hostile, impatient, impulsive, opportunistic, petty, possessive, reactive, resentful, strong-willed, superstitious, unrestrained.

v. bloody red keep ; in this timeline, at the outset of game of thrones yoren meets a brother of the nights watch, a 'wandering crow', brother yoren. the nights watchman is to journey up the kings road to collect prisoners for the wall, yoren volunteers and goes with him as to see outside of karhold and the north and learn more about the reach, which is where his mother hailed from. primary location is kings landing. using his bastardy to his advantage, he is able to slip through the initial northern noose that the lannisters put around kings landing, he is blending in as he gathers information on news of his house, house stark and the north, and includes/will include learning of his fathers execution at robb starks hand. (ref. yoren of the nights watch is the crow who intercepts arya at nedd starks beheading and escorts her out of the capital; my yoren would have been seperated from the party between the arresting and execution of lord stark, and unless otherwise stated, his knowledge and opinions are based on the canon events.)

v. they were terrible & red ; this follows more canon timeline lore. rickard is executed by robb, harrion is under lannister capture. his great-uncle arnolf karstark becomes castellan and declares for stannis & house baratheon, yoren's outrage caused a massive verbal row to break out; he argued that neither rickard nor harrion would follow someone who champions the lord of light and denounces the old gods. arnolf had yoren put in a cell for his 'treasonous talk', with the threat of being sent to the wall if he continued. yoren isn't fully aware of the secret alliance with the boltons that his great-uncle has planned, though he had overheard suspicious clips of conversation that would later make sense. when his half-sister alys karstark flees to the wall to seek out jon snow – yoren is tortured and questioned despite having no information. at his earliest opportunity he escapes after much planning; murdering a guard and stealing a horse, making for either the wall or winterfell (for jon snow and his half-sister alys, or to house stark; timeline dependent)

#( trial muse bio! )#( trial muse master tag )#v. grey son of karhold ⋯ life

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niennandil-me-writes · 2 years ago

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if you were penitence i'd repent every day of my life

cn: burning as penitence, religious indoctrination, emotional manipulation, guilt tripping, cults, discussed child murder

[Taking place after the Dwarfen Deviance oneshot run by Linda. Alejandro, who is mentioned briefly, belongs to @ghoulcaro.]

The room was veiled in shadows. The lights burning throughout the room – candles, lanterns, open basins of oil set aflame – only seemed to enhance the darkness of the walls, painted a very dark blue, like the sky at midnight. Like the world was dark and filled with sin, only to be brightened by the flame of the righteous, so was this room. It showed a certain humility, Priya found.

She was kneeling, eyes lowered to the dark marble floor. Right in front of her, the floor rose by one step to a dais. This room had once been the eating hall of the residence. Now that the stronghold served as a makeshift temple, it was the heart and hearth of it. The room might not have been open to the sky – safe for the draped windows – but the fires were kept burning. This was where the Cleansing Flame resided. She stood at the center of the room, in front of her throne: a white chair beset with crystal and covered in candles burning with white purity.

Her eyes cast down in deference, Priya recounted what had happened during her travels under the Flame’s mission. She paid particular attention to mention the names of every influential person she had talked to and helped in their troubles, especially the Dwarves of Goldcrest, which she had helped save from invasion. When she finished her tale, it was silent for a while, save for the clear crackling of the flames. With every second, Priya became more worried.

“You have done good,” said the Flame finally. “I am proud of you, Priya.”

Priya sighed in relief.

“Your good deeds have earned us some powerful potential allies,” the Flame went on. “Yes, I think we can work with this. You have done very good indeed.”

It wasn’t just the fire that made her cheeks feel warm. She couldn’t help a satisfied smile to twist itself on her lips for a second, before she suppressed it in shame. Pride was a sin. Not one of the big ones that warranted intervention in most people. But Priya wasn’t most people. She was a disciple of the Cleansing Flame, a knight in pursuit of purity, and as such, she had to reach higher standards. She was glad she had her face lowered so her Lady couldn’t spot this temporary loss of humility.

“I am happy to have served you well, my Lady,” she said.

Priya heard the sound of naked footsteps, as the Flame walked around the dais, which meant she was thinking over what Priya had told her. For a while she was quiet again, deep in thought. As she hadn’t been excused or given a new task, Priya remained where she was, kneeling on the ground.

Then suddenly, the Flame’s clear voice broke the silence again: “Do you know why the fire hurts most beings, despite being a power of good?”

Priya, taken aback by the sudden change in topic, needed a few seconds to answer: “Because the mortal body cannot withstand the force of purity and goodness,” she recited what she had learned at the temple. “Like the light, though revealing and necessary for our sight, burns the eye when looked directly into, the fire, cleansing and life-giving though it is, burns the body at direct contact.”

“You have done your studies well,” the Flame lauded her. “As I would expect of a knight of the Flame. A good answer. Though it is not correct. Not entirely.” She walked to the other side of the room, then stopped, probably in front of one of the burning oil pits, which she liked to hold her hand into. “Why, for example, does it not hurt me?”

“Because you are an incarnation of the Flame itself?” It was more a question than an answer.

“Again, almost right,” mused the Flame. “As an avatar of the Flame, of purity itself, I am free of sin. And that is the root of it all: sin. Through some cruelty of the universe, it is growing everywhere, taking hold of every single mortal person, like a weed in an otherwise beautiful garden. As servants of the Flame, it is your mission – yours and that of your fellow believers – to burn out that sin, like the weed in the garden needs to be burned so the earth and light and water might benefit the prettier and more useful plants growing there. And as the ground will be torn up and the grass burnt, as an addict will feel the terror of withdrawal, as a sick person getting their rotting leg amputated, the removal of sin will hurt the sinners. Must hurt them, really, if anything is to come of it.”

Sudden realization hit Priya. “My lady, I – “

“Why didn’t you burn the girl?” the True Incarnation of the Cleansing Flame of Salvation asked her knight.

Priya swallowed. The thought of having disappointed her mistress pained her. And yet... “She was just a child, my Flame. Barely more than 14.”

“Old enough to sin. Old enough to repent.”

“I didn’t want to upset my traveling companions.” That was only half a lie, and therefore only filled her with double the shame. Priya had been silently grateful when Alejandro had intervened. His words had rung true, then. Perhaps too much so. Uncomfortably so.

The footsteps came closer, until the Flame stood at the edge of the dais, right in front of Priya, who closed her eyes in shame.

“Look at me, Priya.”

Priya did as she was told, blinking away the tears that had formed in her eyes. She looked up at the center of her world, standing there in all her glory. The Flame’s skin was grey, freckled like spots of ash. Half of her long white hair was bound in a tight bun from which red rays of metal protruded like rays of the sun haloing her head. The other half streamed down her back and on the sides of her face like silver flames. Her hanfu was white as well. Aside from the headpiece, the only color on her were the streaks of dark red on her lips and around her eyes.

She looked like a queen, and more than that. She looked like a Goddess, and she was exactly that. She was the most beautiful, most perfect being Priya had ever laid eyes on, and that she would have the honor to be her personal guard, her knight, her confidant, filled her with pride and awe and sorrow. Priya wanted to throw herself at her feet and kiss them.

“My Flame,” she whispered, a prayer and a plea.

“I know you think your refusal to make her repent an act of mercy.” Her perfect lips formed the words with absolute precision. “But sometimes kindness is much crueler than disdain.” She turned her eyes to the drapes hanging from the ceiling, face clouded by memory. “Do you remember when that plague washed over the Temple, when we were both much younger?”

“Yes, my Lady,” Priya answered.

“The children were hit the hardest, poor things. Our healers mixed a medicine, but a lot of the children refused it due to its bitter taste. Now tell me, would it have been kind of the healers to spare them the short suffering of bitter medicine?”

“Of course not,” Priya said.

And before she could say anything else, the Flame continued: “And in the same way, it wasn’t kind of you to spare the girl her penitence.”

“The children would have died without the medicine,” Priya said. “And the girl would have died if I had burned her. Like the orcs died from Flaming Salvation.” She put her hand to the hilt of her sword, remembering how she had torn it through the bodies.

“The orcs you gave to the fire, that their cleansed spirits may become one with the Flame,” the incarnation explained. “While the girl remains a sinner, traveling the lands to hurt more people, only to die a sinner’s death and be swallowed by darkness. Is that kindness?”

“No, my Lady.” Priya lowered her eyes again. “I understand my mistake now.” And she truly did, now that the Flame had explained it to her. Alejandro’s words, which had kept her awake for days, lost all meaning in the enlightened words of the Flame. Especially his question whether she had done bad things in the name of her beliefs. Whether they were any less bad because she was an initiate of the Flame. Now that she was home, in the safety of the fire, she understood that he didn’t understand at all. Couldn’t understand, as a non-believer. And that was forgivable because he simply didn’t know better. But Priya should. How she ever could have doubted the Flame, she didn’t know.

“Forgive me, my Flame,” she said, humbled. “I have failed in my duties as your servant.”

“I understand,” said the Flame in her never-ending mercy. “Though you did wrong, you did so out of kindness.” She held out her hands, and for a moment Priya believed, hoped, she would take her head between them to comfort her. “Misplaced kindness has always been your weakness. But you will learn. You are a good student, and an invaluable asset to me.”

“Thank you, my Flame.”

“But there is still one thing.” The Flame’s voice surged in volume. Priya looked up at her in fear and love. “By sparing the girl’s life, you took her unburned sins onto your otherwise righteous shoulders. A servant of the Flame – a servant of me – cannot do their work laden with sin like this.”

Priya swallowed, anticipating and dreading her Lady’s next words.

“Remove your armor, my good knight,” spoke the Flame. “I shall cleanse you myself.”

Not wanting to waste a second, Priya immediately stood and set about doffing her armor, unclasping the straps, slipping out of the metal plates and carefully setting them down. When it all lay neatly sorted beside her, she removed the padded shirt as well, and then finally pulled the sweat-stained linen undershirt over her head. The wounds of her travels had not yet fully healed. Gashes and bruises, but her Lady’s eyes lingered on the burn marks. Priya lowered her head to hide her reddened cheeks. Again, she knelt in deference and humility.

“My Lady,” Priya said, voice trembling like a candleflame in the wind. “I, humble servant of the Flame, ask to receive penitence. Let my body be cleansed of wickedness and sin by the light of your grace.”

The Flame heard her prayer, a slightly modified version of the most common penitence call of the temple, which Priya had learned it when she was 8, when the answer had just been hot wax dripped on her arms. But with adulthood came greater responsibility, and greater sin.

She didn’t scream out as the burning hands of her mistress set on her shoulders. She had learned to bear them long ago. She had loved them even before that. Beneath that searing burn lay a warmth that took her back to a place long ago, a barren sleeping chamber shared by two acolytes. Back when things were warmer and less hot. When the Flame would touch her not just for penitence’s sake, laying beside her in a shared bed, unaware of the way Priya looked at her, Priya who was drowning in the silver of her eyes and hair and skin. She had known that Bai was a Goddess even then, before the visions started, before Bai stopped being just Bai, before the intrigues and schemes and exile. She would have dropped to her knees and prayed to that beauty even back then, when she’d have thought it to be blasphemy, and sometimes she wished she’d have done so, making that girl her personal Deity, whom she didn’t have to share with other followers or conspirators. Maybe, Priya thought in her most heretic moments, if her prayers had just been enough, none of this need have happened. And maybe if her devotion was enough to the Flame now, she could abandon her plans of vengeance and conquest, become Bai once more, and stay here, not as a Goddess, but as the noblewoman she appeared to be. Maybe, just maybe, that could be enough...

All of those thoughts were firmly locked away in the confines of Priya’s mind. They were unspeakable, they were heresy. They were sin.

Hot tears ran down Priya’s cheeks, evaporating before they could hit the floor. The Flame’s hands had wandered down her arms. Priya swallowed a whimper. The Flame leaned forward, strands of flame escaping her hair to drape over and burn Priya’s back. Her heat swallowed her body, and then another heat took hold of her, rising to her cheeks and other places. A thought managed to escape, that the Flame’s hands might wander farther down...

Priya bit her lip, hoping the Flame didn’t notice. As a knight of the Flame, she was sworn to celibacy, sworn off all the worldly pleasure that might distract her from her task. How heinous then, to have these kinds of thoughts, even as she was doing penitence? And to have those wishes of her Deity! This, she knew, was not a believer’s love to her Goddess, nor a knight’s love to her Lady. It was something else, less pure, and more wicked. This was her biggest sin and downfall, and one she couldn’t even repent for, as she would have had to reveal it to the Flame first, and she couldn’t, not if she wanted to stay with her, and feel her touch again.

She tried to focus on the pain, but that just made it worse because with the pain came the touch of her fingers. So many hours Priya had spent worrying if her penitence even counted for anything if she was enjoying it, if that didn’t make it a bigger sin, a mockery, a treason. And so she didn’t feel cleansed when the Lady drew away, taking her warmth and heat with her.

“I have freed you of sin,” said the gracious voice of the Cleansing Flame. “Do you feel lighter already?”

“Yes, m’lady,” Priya lied in a flustered murmur.

“Then go forth and sin no more,” continued the Flame. “And don’t try to carry other people’s weight on your shoulders again. Your burden is heavy enough.”

Her voice was soft, an absolution. Priya sighed in relief and was surprised to hear it come out as a sob.

“Look at me, Priya.” This time it sounded soft instead of harsh.

Priya blinked the tears away and beheld her Deity’s face once more, beautiful but no longer terrifying.

“I know I expect a lot of you, my sweet” (Priya hid her gasp with another sob) “but I only do so because you are the one I trust most in the world.” There was a sadness around her eyes that Priya wished she could take away. “You saved my life, Priyanshi. You have never failed me. The Flame burns within you as well.” Once again, Priya thought she would take her hand, but once again, she just gestured to Priya’s hands, the extra fingers, to her person, and then to Flaming Salvation, the sword with which Priya had cut down the conspirators coming for the Flame’s life. “It is for those reasons that I care for you. And I don’t want to know you weighed down by sin unbecoming of you.”

Again, Priya blushed, even more ashamed of the sins she kept hidden. “I would carry any burden for you, my Flame,” she said hastily. “To hell and back. If that’s what you asked.”

“I fear that I will ask for that,” said the Flame. “If I am to reclaim my temple and its people.”

“It is awaiting your return. And I will do whatever I can to bring it about, and more,” Priya said, when what she wanted to say was: “I am yours, my Flame. Do with me as you please, but please, please, touch me, hold me, make me yours.” But like a pious servant, she remained silent, and the Flame, after speaking her last blessings over Priya and her weapons, excused her.

Priya walked down the stone hallways to her room and spent the next hours polishing her spotless armor and sword to put off sleep and dreams she knew would be filled with sin.

#my writing #oc writing #priyanshi varma #the flame #religious guilt #religious indoctrination

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cetusxcetus · 21 days ago

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CETUS MERELY SNICKERED AT THE HIGH LADY'S WORDS, corner of his mouth quirking up in a very rare smirk. Yes, he was old - & time was linear, so naturally he wasn't getting any younger. He wouldn't wish for it, either. Eternal life & eternal youth were good only in theory - what remained, was an eternity of boredom, eternity of things already seen, melodies already heard, experiences already experienced. There was little room for fear in his heart - a being that old, that... detached had very little to lose. "Now that the king is done for & the Made Mother locked up, is that your way of telling me to retire to a sandy beach & enjoy the rest of my immortality counting stars?" he spoke, amusement evident in the tone of his voice - though he had been put in a slightly better ( or, better said, he was appeased ) mood by the High Lady's display of concern.

another smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

"It seems I can hide very little from you these days, High Lady." Cetus spoke, but in all honesty, it wasn't like he was particularly hiding his disappointment. Well, disappointment & distrust, to be exact. "I'm disappointed in magic, in case you're wondering. The bill will come due & it would be unreasonable to think this... perfect victory will not have consequences. Perhaps the Gaean fall will not be the only destructive outcome of it." he mused, though at this point he was merely thinking out loud.

undoubtedly an elderly habit to have.

Still, as the High lady kept speaking of the Gaean throne, the seat of power now shifting to a high liege instead of a king, the Second in command found himself nodding along to her words, lips pursed together in thought. Indeed, what sinister, bitter things will the new liege of Gaea concoct for the rest of the Prythian to swallow? He couldn't predict it, not yet - not until the new liege comes on top & he can asses their character for himself. He quite wondered who it may be. "We'll find out soon enough, dearie. Magic cannot remain this unstable for long. It may implode, it may explode, but when the liege of Gaea is chosen at last, it might stabilize the current erratic behaviour of the magic. Perhaps even break the blasted barrier." if he doesn't find a way to do it himself, first.

oh.

interesting.

It looks like little Alina is Legion's true heir after all. The previous High Lord he'd served would have never passed up on the opportunity - though his reasonings would've undoubtedly been inifinitely less altruistic than Alina's. "Then go get it." Cetus said, the murky yellow-green eyes fixing upon the High Lady. "It could be... doable. Who is to say it has to be a Gaean? They have all but scattered about anyway, now that their dowager had retired, offering no immediate protection." it was risky - but, it was also rewarding. "If you decide to embark on that journey, I shall accompany you to the end, but do know it will not be easy. It may cost you greatly. You need to be absolutely sure that is what you want & the consequences of it are absolutely worth it. Once you step on that path, there will be no coming back." but, if that was her wish, indeed...

he'll be there to support & advise her.

without a moment delay the high lady of summer could hear the whispers now, or, rather accusations? desperate times led to wilder imaginations, and alina herself once, in a moment of weakness while they were held hostage in the capital, had succumbed to these wilder imaginations. teetering on the edge of believing that they would all be killed by whatever this ancient magic that was holding them hostage. of course, the logical side of her understood well if something wanted them dead, their mother would not allow an entire realm to be wiped away nor would they have been held captive and alive. this dark mother had been attempting to instill fear within them, and then when the truth is heard from the high priestess, from her sister, alina's theories once more had been proven correct. this has all been a grand twisted scheme to have control over prythian.

the discovery of this trident had left her astonished, but other pieces began falling into place. how legion spoke of a rather special book, kept only in the treasury but never in the libraries, how her mother would never neglect to tell her daughter the wonders of temple of the deep, it had been thalassa's favorite place in summer. their court held many mysterious, this alina was aware of, it is only now she learned just how far they went. to those on the outside, they would likely perceive some threat from summer, or wonder what else the high lady of summer kept hidden. that was an issue for a later time. truthfully, it's not as if she would mind being seen as such, in the end the benefits outweighs the disadvantages.

her attention shifted towards the elder fae, a being almost as ancient and a man she viewed with several different lenses throughout the decades, but who then proved to be a strange, steady presence in her life. "after close to a year of this mess, for a moment, we may be able to rest. you ought to as well, you are not getting any younger." others might view her words as an insult, but cetus knew his high lady enough well enough to read between the lines of her remark. the most gentile manner alina would ever express concern concern for her inner circle. "ah, you look rather disappointed." a slight curve of her lips as her gaze finds his, her commander himself had been itching for a fight. a chance to put good use to his threats and talents, but in truth, even alina did not know how such a weapon would affect a non-ruler, nor did she wish to find out. she nods, as he steals the thoughts from her mind, "yes, far, far from it given the reports from gaea. a high seat created in the place of a throne, i wish to know who's chosen and what trouble they will be concocting." she had been sipping on one of her favored strong wine, a finger tracing the edge of her glass. "i want it." she says a moment later, not because of greed, because she wanted no more messes, and then there was kris and his concerns.

#c: alina #{ interactions }#{ the little high lady of summer. }

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qarl-grimes · 3 years ago

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Little Secrets: Three (Final)(Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader)

A/N: absolutely shooketh at the feedback i’ve gotten to part one and two of this little story. i can’t thank you all enough. alicent may be a little ooc, but for the sake of this story, she is. here’s part three!

Synopsis: She’s his sisters handmaiden, Highborn, but not high enough. He’s a Prince of the House of the Dragon, destined to marry someone of higher birth than her. This, them, can be their secret for just a little bit longer.

Warnings: 18+.

For the purpose of this story, the Readers House has been entirely made up by me. In the ASOIAF books, highborn handmaidens sometimes also serve as handmaidens and companions to noble ladies in the household of their overlords or at the royal court. It is important to note that the Readers House is fairly low.

Reader will be female, but her physical appearance will not be described.

I have tagged that who wanted to be! :)

@moonmaiden1996 @ateliefloresdaprimavera @snixx2088 @alexameliamg @wasntpriscilla @demure-doll @m1ndbrand @tea-effect @novazoldyck @thesadvampire @hangrymama @holy-minseok @highexpectationsgurl

Parts One and Two here.

Your palms are sweating.

It’s to be expected, really, with the way the Queen is looking at you. There is not surprise on her expression, no, but a cold fury that curls into disappointment when she turns sharply to face her second youngest son.

‘I had hoped this dalliance would have ended by now, Aemond’.

You breathe in sharply and look to the floor. She knew, then. For all your sneaking and pleased little smiles at evading the Queen, she had known all along.

‘I will marry her, mother’. You look at him, chest fluttering at the determination set into Aemond’s tone. ‘With your and fathers permission or not, Y/N will become a Targaryen and, in turn, Princess. We will flee to Dragonstone on Vhagar and return only where this a babe-’

‘Aemond!’ The Queen snaps, finally, her hands flying to her forehead in frustration. She glowers at her son. ‘Your father will fade soon enough. Your brother is a menace to the Red Keep. Not to mention the issues with the Driftmark Throne. Do you not think this family has enough to deal with?’ She hisses.

Aemond opens his mouth to speak again, not even slightly cowed by his mother. You, of course, speak when you are not supposed to. ‘I will be loyal to your son, your grace,’ you begin, voice cracking just slightly. You swallow and hold her gaze when she turns to you, brown eyes impatient. ‘I may be from a minor House, but I will be as good a wife as any to your son. Better, even. I love him’. You mouth lifts. ‘And not a childish love. A true love. I would die for him, and he for me. In such times,’ you add carefully. ‘Is such loyalty so easy to come by?’

The Queen stares at you for a very long moment, her lips pursed and her breaths short. With a sharp sigh, she waves Aemond’s way. ‘Leave. I need to think’. You go to leave, whereas Aemond reminds unwavering. ‘I will call you with my decision, Aemond. Go’.

You look at Aemond as you turn and, judging from the smirk on his face, you guess that you look white as a sheet. You had stood up to members of the Kings Guard, but it was the Queen who made you sweat with fear. Ser Criston allows you leave, pulling the door aside for you.

‘Seven Hells,’ you breathe, once in the safety of the corridor.

Aemond’s hands finds your forearm, and he turns you to face him. His lilac eye glints. ‘Yes,’ he muses. ‘Mother can be quite a force. Aegon all but cries when she unleashed her terror on him’.

You scoff at the image, before tugging Aemond toward the archway, where the Queen’s private courtyard opens. It is a small garden, barely larger than the room you had just been in, but it was quiet. ‘She does not seem as if she will agree, Aemond’. You sigh. ‘It looks as if a visit to the Free Cities is imminent’.

Aemond scoffs, hands sliding up your arms to rest on your jaw, forcing you to look at him. ‘She will agree,’ he murmurs, intense in his own way.

You frown. ‘That was your mother being agreeable?’

‘No,’ Aemond speak softly. ‘That was my mother realising that she has lost’.

Exciting twists inside of you, but you narrow your gaze all the same. ‘You’re sure?’ Aemond nods with a smirk. ‘Thank the Seven. I think watching my throw up the entire ride to Essos would have put you off the idea of marrying me at all’.

Aemond smirks. ‘You seemed well enough last night’.

You open your mouth to reply, but suddenly realise the position the two of you are in. Anyone could walk past, including Helaena. You wanted to inform the girl yourself, not have her find Aemond all but caressing your face-

‘Prince Aemond, Lady Y/N’.

You wrench yourself away from Aemond out of habit, finding Ser Criston standing beneath the archway of the courtyard. ‘The Queen is ready to see you’. The Knight looks from you to Aemond, the man he had all but trained to be a fine fighter, and his mouth lifts just slightly. ‘Come’.

The Queen faces you when you enter, her expression pinched and her gaze watchful. She speaks only to Aemond, and her voice is anything but joyous. ‘You will marry, Aemond. I have no doubt that you give me little choice. I will not have a handmaiden sully your sisters honour with her own lack of-’

Aemond pulls you back just slightly, his lips lifting into a slight snarl. ‘Careful, mother’.

You bristle but fight down the need to defend yourself. You had given yourself to Aemond fully, but always with the intention of making him your only. Who was the Queen to condemn you for that? Well, you suppose. She is the Queen.

‘I love Helaena,’ you say, despite yourself. ‘I would never want to sully her honour, your grace’.

The Queen turns to you. Jaw clenched; she dips her head. ‘I have no doubt that is true, but that does not deny the danger you put yours and her honour into. Who do you think the courts would believe, should your honour come into question?’

Aemond straightens up. ‘Do you believe me the kind of man who would not defend her honour, mother, since I am the one who took it?’

‘Aemond!’ you snap, wide eyed and warm with embarrassment. ‘Seven Hells, must you?’

Aemond’s glances sulkily at you with his one eye. ‘I apologise, my love’.

The Queen watches you with a queer expression. ‘Leave us, Aemond,’ she says suddenly, turning sharply toward a small table stacked with goblets. ‘Seven Hells, Aemond, leave us for a few minutes, would you?’ she snaps, when her son makes no movement.

Relenting, he casts you a glance and slinks from the room, Ser Criston pulling the door closed behind him.

‘I never thought my son would want to marry, Lady Y/N,’ the Queen begins, handing you a half full goblet of red wine. You sip it the moment it is in your hand, desperate for something to numb your nerves. You swallow and nod.

‘I can understand why, you grace. Prince Aemond prefers the company of swords to most, I am aware’. The joke falls flat, and the Queen considers you over the goblets she twirls between her fingers.

‘Hmm,’ she hums. ‘But you are sharp, aren’t you?’

You snort before you can quite stop yourself, sobering to say, ‘Apologies, you grace. Aemond has said the same in jest before’. You look at her, willing her to speak, but the silence stretches. ‘I understand that I am lowborn, Queen Alicent. My House is small and meaningless, and my Lord father offers little in bannermen and coin. But I was not lying before – I will be loyal to Aemond. I will bare his children and I will love him. I won’t let anyone hurt him’.

The Queen smirks, and you understand where Aemond gets the look from. ‘When he was born, I swore the same, as I swear when all of my children were born’.

You think of Aemond’s long scar, the skin puckered and sitting where his other lilac eye should be. You have never known him without the scar. ‘Were we women permitted to pick her weapons, your grace, I would be quite tempted to return the sentiment to Aemond’s nephews’.

She looks as if, for a split moment, she might smile. ‘That is a treasonous statement, Lady Y/N’.

‘It is the truth,’ you return simply.

She dismisses you soon after, and you all but deflate into Aemond’s arms on the other side of the door. ‘Congratulations are in order, my Prince,’ Ser Criston remarks, but to Aemond’s amusement. Aemond scoffs and leads you away, his chin dipped to look at you.

‘Well?’

‘We will marry,’ you breathe, mouth stretching into a grin as you look up at him. ‘We will marry, Aemond. I must tell Helaena before word breaks, of course-’

‘I have not wanted to tell you this, for fear of you smacking me as you often do when I lie to you, but I believe that my sister is very much aware of us, Y/N’. Your grin turns to a gape, and Aemond smirks. ‘She is smart, my sister, you know this’.

‘I-I know that! But how-’

Aemond kisses you soundly, his smirk solid against your mouth, and laugh into the kiss, palm smacking lightly on his back until he pulls away from you. ‘We will marry,’ you grin.

‘We will marry,’ Aemond agrees, a smile a little less lethal and a little more content gracing his sharp features.

#qarls talking shit #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #prince aemond #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd #hotd fic

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