#‘ill turn you into a toad’

[justaz]

im not a fan of modern merthur but the idea of them meeting in modern times and introducing themselves to each other and them laughing and bonding over their names being connected to the myth of king arthur and camelot is just so cute

[typewriting-robin]

Promises You Can Keep

Jude/Robin OC (M x F)

Rating: T

In which Jude meets his match with a kind, sweet, and clumsy Robin who is tasked with shadowing him for her reports. She can't figure him out to save her life.//Noncanon, pre-relationship

cw: Jude being a serious pain in the ass, blood mention, canon-typical violence

Word count: 6371

note~ it is recommended but not required to read the OC/MC master list and scroll to the secod-to-bottom for Christabelle, the Robin that corresponds to Jude.

“Once upon a time there lived a beautiful princess…” she began as she was surrounded by the children of the priory, who kept begging her to tell her a story. She momentarily wondered if this counted as a lie but it was supposed to be fiction anyway. “Okay maybe she wasn't quite beautiful nor was she a princess. A viscount's daughter, yes?” She said as the children giggled around her. “Well once upon a time there lived a viscount's daughter. Her mother passed when she was but a baby and her father soon grew ill. Now living in squalor, her eldest sister works as a Tailor's apprentice while attempting to become a lady in waiting for the princess and her brother, a soldier stationed in India. But still there were too many mouths to feed.”

The children were enraptured but she knew it was time to switch gears. The story was too autobiographical so now it was time to create some fiction, even though she has no idea where her story would go. “The viscount's youngest daughter, afraid there were too many mouths to feed, left home, knowing her family would never ascend back into nobility and joined a convent. One day, she went out to run an errand and that's when a rather errant knight spotted her as she made her way across the city.” She really had no idea where she was going as she paused for effect. “He had followed her home, telling her that he required a spot of tea and the company of her time.”

“I love a romance!’ said one of the children. While it was true that she fantasized about marrying a knight in shining armor one day, she had only picked a knight for this story because it was the first thing she thought of. 

“Ah, but alas this isn't a romance but a dreadful tale for you see, the knight never left. He had collected many, many tithes and decided he would support the family if he had the girl's hand in marriage. Three times he asked and three times she said no. Until one day, a magical…hmm…uh, toad! Yes, a toad, decided to make its appearance, offering her a chance to escape the rude and errant knight. ‘Kiss me!’ it said but she wasn't so sure. But when she was forcibly dragged away from her family by the knight, the frog appeared and she kissed him.”

The children made various noises, indicating their disgust. “Then the girl turned into a magical frog where she lived the rest of her days in a pond not worrying about family or marriage matters. Or money. Or politics. The end.”

The children clapped…slowly and out of step, confused by her story. 

But what else could she do now that her father said he needed to borrow money for his medicine? It was all she could ever think of ever since he put himself in debt.

She checked the time on the grandfather clock. “Oh no!I have to go to the post office! Sorry!” She was now five minutes late. Adding to the trip to the post office, if she were lucky, she would be fifteen minutes late, at best. She would have to do a lot of apologizing to the manager and the other Robins.

And it was because on that day, on that chaotic day, there were no Robins around to help do the very sudden last minute night time delivery that cropped up just when she was arriving over half an hour late to her shift. All because she wanted to help that poor little girl who was being hurt by the man who later called her a thief.

That was the beginning of it all. The day where she had been sent on a nighttime delivery and encountered a nightmare. “You're from the priory? How intriguing! What do you do there, my dear?” asked Victor, their leader during their celebration dinner as if she hadn't just experienced the most traumatic moment of her life. 

But she knew to keep going along with everything so that she could live. Her father needed her. Her sister needed her. “Well, they haven't made me a nun but I sometimes keep the children there company and tell them stories. They really like storytelling, especially if it’s something they’ve never heard before!”

“How wonderful! Our Fairytale keeper knows how to weave a story.”

“Tch,” a voice said as he watched her with narrowed amethyst eyes, his fingers steepled. “Hogwash,” he muttered.

“Thank you,” she said, ignoring the sinister man who watched her from the table with what she suspected was murderous intent. He was the one who had called her revolting and offered to be her savior but he was just like the errant knight from the story she had told the children earlier that day. She thought he had left the party but sometime later that night, he had rejoined, sitting off to the corner, smoking a cigarette.

His gaze was always on her for some indiscernible reason, amethyst eyes cruel, fierce. Sizing her up. As much as she wanted to avoid him, something told her deep down inside that would be more difficult than she could ever imagine.

********

“I have a job for you, my lovely Miss Christabelle,” Victor said only a few mornings after she had (reluctantly) joined Crown. She was expecting this. William was standing beside him, which made her believe that he was a part of his assignment. At least it would be with William, who seemed kind enough.

Christabelle knew it was critical for her to do everything Victor would ask her to do within the month. That was her best chance at survival and returning back to her family, her sister, the orphanage at the priory, and her job at the post office. “A job,” she said as Victor poured her some tea. She could tell by the familiar scent that it was chamomile tea.

“We’ve been observing you,” William said.  That didn’t come as a surprise to her. Not in the slightest. During these past few days, she had talked to everyone at least once. Some of the men in Crown were easier to converse with than others, like Liam or even Harrison. Others were harder to avoid but she still made polite conversation with them no matter how hard she tried. And by others, it was Jude.

“And our dear William has noticed a rather…interesting observation,” Victor said. His hands showed an urging motion as if asking her to down the drink. She only took sips. “Now I must tell you that William has a talent for understanding group dynamics and knowing which skills are needed for a particular mission.”

Christabelle set the tea down, meeting Victor’s gaze. Much to her frustration, a droplet of tea fell into the saucer. She had the urge to wipe it and clean it but instead put up with it. “And what are my skills?”

Victor and William exchanged a glance.

Christabelle knew that probably wasn’t good. She knew of her own shortcomings. Her disorganization, tendency to act before thinking, her--

“You have a very kind and courteous temperament,” Victor said. “As your supervisor and aide to the queen, your primary task is to focus and shadow one person in Crown.” She nodded, setting the half empty teacup to the side. The saucer cracked, which made Victor tut before he continued. “Now, before I tell you who we settled on,I initially disagreed with William’s proposition as to who you could shadow but ultimately we believe that if there is anyone who could provide us with information regarding him and his curse, it would likely be for someone like you to break through his barriers.”

Christabelle began to slowly understand where they were likely going with this. They weren’t going to pick an easy man for her to shadow and as she racked through her mind the possible option, only one of them made sense.

She thought about Bartleby, the scrivener, and how she would very much prefer not to do this task being asked of her.  But it was life or death.

Victor seemed to have immediately read her reluctant expression. “Please don’t frown, Miss Christabelle! We promise if it does not work within a certain time, we will reassign you.”

William gave her a knowing smile, as if he were confident of the man he had chosen. “But I am never wrong in my observations, Little Robin, and if there’s anyone who can write a report on the curse of the Thirteenth Fairy, it’s you.”

*************

The Thirteenth Fairy. Jude Jazza. The man with the white and black hair and sinister appearance was the errant knight she had accidentally divined. Here in the flesh. Or at least that was how she perceived things to be based on his personality and the way he dealt with people. He was like the debtors her father owed. And Victor had tasked her with shadowing him.

He was there every day at breakfast, his nose buried in a book this time. She stares at the spine of the book, trying to make out what he was reading. 

“If ya keep tryin’ to poke a hole through my book, I’m gonna get real mad,” he said without setting the book down.

Christabelle stumbled on her words. Everyone in Crown was so nice and welcoming and then there was Jude Jazza, who was constantly in a foul mood, using the most bitter words against her. “I wanted to know the book you were reading,” she admitted. “I like reading books a lot and I'd read them to the orphans at the priory.”

Jude finally set the book down and Christabelle wished he didn't do that, showing her his sinister violet glare. “Are ya sure ya really wanna know? Don't wanna pollute the little bird’s mind,” he said with a snicker. “Ain't ya a nun or somethin’?”

She shook her head. “I wanted to be but they said I failed the rigorous training so I'm afraid not. That, and they also said I don't have the right disposition to be one.” She was a little too honest with Jude but the words tumbled out of her before she could stop herself.

Jude only rolled his eyes, handing her the book. “It's some hogwash about revivin’ the dead. Prolly too scandalous for someone like ya.”

Her first reaction was to question him. “How do you know that it could be scandalous? I might even enjoy it! Look! The author’s a girl! I doubt a woman would write something scandalous.” She handed the book back to him, which he didn't take.

Jude shrugged, getting up out of his seat. “Talkin’ to ya is a waste of o’ my time and I gotta get to the docks.” He quickly left her all alone in the dining room and bolted out of the room before she could even tell him that Victor was considering having her shadow him for the day.

Christabelle saw he left the book in front of where he was sitting. She gasped. “Jude? Jude! Come back!” She followed after him but he had already left the grounds. “You left your book…” she stared deeply at the cover. It was plain but the title was interesting enough. “Frankenstein, or the Modern Prometheus,” she read out loud to herself. “Well if he's going to be out all day and won't be able to read this, then maybe it's okay if I can read this book until he comes back…”

Christabelle plopped on a sofa in the living room and read the story, now on the edge of her seat. This book was over fifty years old but she found it fascinating, turning the page even as the men of Crown greeted her throughout the day. 

Victor had shown up at one point looking disappointed but not surprised that Jude had left before she could even tell him about shadowing him. “Not the easiest of my boys to ask favors for. I'm so sorry, my kindly Robin. I will look into any tasks you might help us out with in the meantime and pause on telling Jude anything related to shadowing him. Right now focus on making friends with everyone in Crown, my sweet little Robin! Don't you worry!”

Jude came back during supper and when he did, he reeked of cigarette smoke and salt. “Good evening, Jude. You left your book at the table today so I came here to return it.”

Jude eyed her warily, not saying a word as she left the book in front of him. “Ya didn't happened to have read it, didja?”

“I did,” she admitted. “It was a really great book! The ending was rather depressing but I can see how it influenced so many other books I've read. I saw some stuff there that I've seen in other stories I've read and that was…amazing!”

Jude grabbed the book, not engaging with her conversation. “Of course ya read it. Lil bird with nothin’ to do would read it.” His eyes met hers, which caused her to lose eye contact. She couldn't bring herself to tell him that his words were untrue. That he was…difficult to say the least.

There was a pause between them and she looked back at him. His eyes weren't giving her his usual glare, but rather a softer look. Less intimidating. Approachable. “Tell ya what, birdie. Ya returned my book to me fair ‘n square upon seein’ me so I'll waive the fee.”

“The fee?” She asked, confused. 

“It's my copy, not the library's so if ya wanna take a book from me then ya gotta pay the renter's fee.”

“You left it by accident, though.”

Jude said nothing, before clicking his tongue and leaving. Christabelle now stood in the room, alone, wondering why Jude didn't wish to talk to her about the book. It would have helped her for her records. 

*************

Even though it wasn't quite important in her curse research, both Jude and Harrison liked mystery novels. But little did she know that a mystery of her own would show up on her doorstep soon enough. 

When she opened the door the next morning, she was met with a single purple rose on the floor. It was beautiful, light colored in full bloom. “What a lovely flower!” She asked the maids for a small vase to contain it and keep it alive. It put her in a good mood for breakfast that morning. 

“Ya look nauseatingly giddy today,” Jude said in his usual dour tone. But nothing he could say could bring her down. 

“Are you reading the paper today?”

“What's it to ya?”

“I'm curious!”

He sighed. “I'm reading the finances. Gotta know the state o’ things.” 

“Can I read the sections you aren't reading please?”

Jude groaned then took out a section of the paper that he didn't care for. It was specifically about a gossip column for women, which didn't tailor to her interest. “No stories?”

“I'll loan ya a book if it means yer stop yer yappin’.”

“I'd love to read it but how much is the fee?”

Jude grinned. “That's for me to decide.”

Christabelle hummed. “Hmm…no thanks. I need to save for my theater funds. They're going to start performing The Taming of the Shrew next month and I'd really love to save up for it.” Liam had been cast as Lucentio. She didn't mention she had mostly been saving up for her father's funds. It was hard for her to hold her tongue but she kept her family life quiet since she didn't want Crown thinking she would inadvertently sell them out to her family.

Jude set his paper down. “Then I'll give ya a book then.” His grin was sadistic before he pulled a book from his cape, handing it to her. Moby Dick. The same author as Bartleby, the Scrivener. 

“Is there a fee for this one?”

He cackled. “Nah, I'll just let ya suffer with this one.” Jude stood up, the chair squeaking below him as he left for another work day. She was relieved that Victor put shadowing him or having to do anything with him on pause because he was so…difficult.

And speaking of difficult, Christabelle did indeed struggle with the book, with the prose being incredibly dense and the plot unengaging to her, but if anything, she was persistent. 

The next day, and the day after that, she was greeted by more purple roses at her doorstep. On the fourth day, she asked for a bigger vase to hold all her flowers. The flowers gave off a nice fragrance which helped offset her already messy room, full of books and fairytales recorded throughout the centuries alongside her own scribbles and notes.

But now the mystery was deepening: where were these flowers coming from? Now she had felt compelled to solve it. The problem was how would she even find out?

Alfons happened to be walking past the halls as he saw her holding today's rose. He was more than quick on the uptake. “It seems you've got a secret admirer, hmm?” he said, his voice slinky. 

“I do?” she asked. She decided to choose her words carefully in case her gut feeling was wrong. “I thought everyone in the castle had flowers delivered to them.”

Alfons got closer to her. “If by everyone, they mean you, then sure. How would you react if I told you that I sent them?”

“You did?” The flowers didn't seem quite his style but Alfons was an elegant man and roses were quite elegant. 

“Sure I did. Pretty little thing like you.” His hand slipped to her shoulders, moving closer to her neck. Slithering slowly towards the back. Slithering slowly, softly…

“Oi! What do you think you're doing?” A tired sounding voice cut through the moment. It was Harrison. 

Alfons retracted his hand, giving Harrison a wide smile. “It appears our Miss Robin has a secret admirer.”

Harrison narrowed his gaze at Alfons. “Let me guess, you were about to lay claim over something you didn't do.”

Alfons gasped, looking mock offended. “I only said ‘if’ I had sent it!”

Christabelle interrupted. “I only wanted to know where these roses are coming from, that's all. It's a nice gesture and I'd like to thank them.”

“It wasn't Alfons,” Harrison said with a firmness to his voice, his teal eyes narrowing at him. “Or me for that matter.”

“Oh. I see. Thank you for confirming with me.”

“There is absolutely no chance someone as uncouth as Roger would hand you such a delicate rose either,” Alfons said. “And conversely, neither would Elbert, for the opposite reasons.”

“For once you're not lying,” Harrison said. “Maybe it was from one of us, or it could be from one of our servants.” What he said opened up new possibilities. “But if I were you, I'd just enjoy the gift and let it go.”

Christabelle nodded. “It is a really nice gesture. I've never received gifts like this before. That's why…” she thought of her father and how pained he looked each time he had given her a gift for her birthday or Christmas. He always expressed his affection for her but his eyes did not lie. Eventually when she turned fifteen, she stopped asking for presents altogether and began asking for prayers and non tangible gifts. “I'll let it go,” she said, meaning her words. 

At least at that time, she did really mean her words. Ellis was at breakfast this morning, debriefing Jude on what they'd do today. Jude's eyes were closed as he drummed his fingers on his forearms. “Bloody annoyin’ when my men break their promises,” he grumbled, his mood sour. She was hoping to see him today to tell him she finished Moby Dick but seeing his mood made her stay silent.

Christabelle had gotten used to taking breakfast at the same time as Jude but right now his entire aura meant she should remain as quiet as possible. 

“Good morning Christabelle,” Ellis said. “Did you sleep well?”

She nodded. “Yes,” she said as Jude’s eyes opened and he got up from his chair, his cape flapping behind him as he walked away, his mood still dark. 

“Jude isn't happy today,” Ellis said with a frown. 

“I can see that. I hope he'll be happy later.”

“Mm. Are you happy right now?”

“Kind of,” she admitted. “I have to admit, someone's been leaving roses in front of my door this week. It's a very kind thing to do since no one's ever given me gifts like this.”

“I didn't know you liked roses,” Ellis said. “Can I give you roses too? It would make you feel happy, wouldn't it?” He had confirmed that he wasn't the sender of her roses. 

“That would be sweet of you. I would have to get more vases, but I'd really like to kn--.”

“Whaddya waitin’ for?” Jude's voice bellowed out, cutting through her voice. 

“Sorry, I've got to go.” Ellis bowed to her and left. 

She didn't mean to lie to Harrison, she didn't mean it at all at the time but her curiosity was gnawing at her. She needed to know. 

“Did they leave a note?” William asked as she approached Victor's office. The two men were conversing over matters. Christabelle only went to confirm if this was a normal occurrence. If she went straight to the source, then she would know what was going on. 

“There wasn't a note. That's the odd thing.”

“Ah, I see, Robin,” William said. “If I had sent you a rose, I would at least bothered to have signed it in this particular instance. And you said they were purple. Red is more my color,” he said. 

“That is a rather curious matter. My Little Robin is very sweet to my boys so it could be any,” Victor said. “After all, sweet birds do deserve lovely flowers.”

“How do you know it's one of the men?” she asked. 

“I know my boys better than anyone.”

“So does that mean you know who exactly sent it?”

Victor lurched, his hand dramatically on his heart. “Alas, with such errant boys as these, I'm afraid I cannot say for certain who sent what. But know that it was not William, nor myself.”

Christabelle smiled at them. “Thank you for confirming with me though.”

Christabelle had created a list in her head. That meant the rose had to be sent by Liam. It was poetic, really. Her favorite actor who was always crowned in flowers, giving her flowers every day as well. 

“Huh?” He said as he was leaving the laboratory with a bandaged hand. “You've got me confused with the wrong guy. That's not me!” He laughed. “You'd know if it were me. I like modern roses.”

“But you're so kind and poetic!”

“Hehe thanks, but nope! But we're in the same club now!” He took her hands and began to swing them together. “We're the Flower Recipient Club for Admirers!”

Christabelle later came back to her room to type her latest report and do some light reading, mostly short stories. It wasn't until after sunset when she heard a thump! Thump! outside. 

Her curiosity had gotten the best of her and she opened the door. Jude was outside, covered in blood. He was muttering something as he paced the halls. She tried to close the door but he had caught her. 

“Um…are you alright?”

Jude grumbled. “What kinda…”

Their eyes locked, her light blue ones with his harsh amethyst ones. “Um…do you need a towel?” It was the best she could come up with. “Er…for that uh…knife?” She pointed at the giant sword that was entirely sheathed and still bloody.

“Sword,” he corrected, not answering her.

Christabelle quickly left then came back with a towel, “What are you doing here?” She asked as she handed the towel to him. 

“It's my home too. I can roam anywhere I want, yeah?”

“Even with blood covered everywhere?” She never thought she'd have a conversation with a sinning man like this. She would have to pray for him soon enough, and pray for all of them, even though since she started living in the castle, she was now praying less and less. 

“Yer sure asking lotsa questions, bird.”

“I want to help in whatever way I can.”

He rolled his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Listen…Yer too nosy, too innocent. That old codger, wantin’ me to babysit ya. Ridiculous.” He sheathed his sword, which dropped blood onto the tiled floors as he slumped forward. She wondered if it was his blood there for a moment but she dismissed the notion. He pointed the sword in her direction, his eyes shining with frenzied glee as she stiffened against the wall. “Nosy lil’ birds…when they flutter too close to the snake's nest…”

“They get eaten,” she finished, trying not to let her nerves get the best of her. His sword did not move. The scent of blood was overpowering her. “I did mean to help. Truly. And I wanted to talk to you about that book with the whale earlier today,” she stammered. And what was that about an “old codger”. Was that supposed to be Victor? Did Victor tell him that he wanted her to record him? She was trying to understand why in the world Jude had shown up here and what he was thinking.

Jude retracted the sword, still grinning. “Yer tryin to be a brave lil’ bird but I can see yer body reactin’ to my sword.” 

“I'm not going to pry, so don't worry.”

“All ya need to know is that this is what happens when ya make promises ya can't keep, yeah?”

Christabelle thought it was an odd conversation they were having but she could see where he was going with this. In a way, he appeared to be venting to her, as if asking to wash away his sins. “If you need to clean up in my room, you're welcome to.”

“Pfft. As if I'd go to a dainty saint's room,” he said, snorting. He wheezed as he began to laugh. Christabelle tried to hide her humiliation from him by giving him a smile. He was impossible to read. Much like Moby Dick.

“Well, um…goodnight then. Sleep well.”

Then as Jude began to make his way back, he took one step…two…then collapsed. 

Christabelle had to call for help to escort Jude to the laboratory, where Roger revealed Jude had gotten stabbed. Again. 

“What?” He wasn't acting like it. Or maybe he had been delirious. It was hard to pick up when one was delirious when they had a sword aimed right at you.

“This man gets stabbed every three business days so I'm used to it,” Roger said, patching him up. “But there's just something I don't understand. He was in your corridor and you two were talking before he collapsed?”

“Yes, that's about right.” She omitted the part where he drew his sword at her. Looking back, he did seem off with his movements. His posture was all sorts of wrong and his eyes…

“Did he appear delirious? He's a stubborn one. Especially when he's drunk or stabbed. He'll forget to come to me. But maybe it means he thought you could cure him, lil’ lady.” He laughed to himself.

“I doubt that.” She thought of how annoying she must have been towards him. She had become too accustomed to him and his blunt manner and had gotten complacent. “I'm just glad he's safe and healthy here with you.” She looked at his sleeping form, his breathing ragged but otherwise, fine. He looked younger than he acted which made her wonder even more about him, like his age and the things he had seen. And why he was near her room of all places after such an incident.

She thought about the book he loaned her for free, Moby Dick. It had been a tough read but she had made herself read it to the end through sheer willpower. If she could do that, then maybe she could eventually break through Jude's barriers.

Roger interrupted her swirling thoughts. “He'll be better by morning so don't worry your sweet little head,” he said with a wistfulness that she couldn't place. “But if something happens to him, you'd cry, wouldn't you?”

“Of course. I know him well.”

“Then make sure to cry when I am in the room, okay, lil lady?”

Christabelle didn't react to his extremely strange words. “Goodnight, Roger.”

She tried to sleep as best she could the next day but the sunlight felt harsh and unforgiving. She trudged out of bed and then got ready for her day. 

Upon opening the door, the purple rose laid on the floor, waiting for her, as if welcoming her day. She bent over to pick it up, wanting to take in its sweet fragrance but what she saw had almost made her drop her flower altogether as she gasped.

Immediately the phrase Harrison had quoted to her from Sherlock Holmes came to mind as everything flashed before her eyes: When you have eliminated all which is impossible, then whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.

Because within the rose's beautiful, soft petals, small droplets of blood remained.

*******

Jude was at breakfast not that day, but the next. His movements were slower, more languid, from the way he held his spoon to the way he would let out a groan when he changed his posture on his seat.

Christabelle’s heart thrummed as this was the first time she was reunited with him after that episode but after discovering he was her apparent admirer. The main question she had was: why?

But this was Jude Jazza and she knew she would never get a straight answer out of him.

Jude’s gaze narrowed at her when he caught her gaze and she fought back the urge to look away. “Are you feeling better?” she asked, filling the unbearable void of silence. She couldn’t bring herself to ask him about the roses. Not right now.

“I’m here, ain’t I?” he said in a cruel, matter-of-fact tone. It must have been Jude’s rough way of saying yes, he was feeling better.

“That’s good.” She paused. The weighty silence began to fill its way up again.  “I finished Moby Dick,” she said, quelling it.

Jude smirked. “Ya did, didja? Good girl fer readin’ all that rubbish.”

She broke eye contact with him when he called her “good girl”. It made her squirm in her seat. Was he praising her or was he talking down to her? She couldn’t tell. “I didn’t like it much either,” she said. “The prose is too dense. But I understood Captain Ahab, to a degree.”

“So yer a bloody lunatic like ‘em, then?” Jude said.

“No!” she said. “I understood the part about wanting to meet your goals, even if you can never meet them. You still have to try. Of course, his way wasn’t, um…necessarily the best, but…” She thought of her goals. She had the wrong disposition to be a nun, but the right one in being assigned to shadow Jude.

“But what?” he barked, taking her out of her reverie. 

“It was what he wanted, I suppose,” she finished meekly. There was another pause. “I really didn’t enjoy this one, sorry,” She handed the book back to him from across the table. 

Jude laughed, taking the book from her. It was as if he couldn’t remember their last encounter. Which led her to theorize if he was leaving her those flowers was he injured? Drunk? She wanted to find out. 

Then Jude stood up. It was anticlimactic. She wasn’t even going to bother him anymore. Tell William and Victor that there was a zero chance that he--

“Oi! Bird. Are ya comin’ along or not?”

Christabelle turned around her chair at a faster pace than she expected. “Huh? Me?”

“Yeah, you.” He steepled his fingers. “Who else? The chair?”

“Where’s Ellis?”

“That boy hasn’t left the bloody office in days.” He turned his back to her, his cape swishing. She stumbled out of her seat before he could repeat himself.

This was it. He was giving her the opening she needed.

But instead, they were in a carriage, where space was cramped and she was practically smushed together with Jude. Christabelle disliked small spaces like this, reminding her of how much space she occupied, which led to thoughts about how she was one more mouth to feed.

She kept her knuckles over her knees, making herself small, looking out the window as the carriage moved. Her neck hurt from craning it, but she didn’t want to make eye contact with Jude, not when she was this close to him. She could hear him breathing, the sounds of his breath were punctuated with wheezing. He didn’t smell like blood, but rather carried his scent of sandalwood, but she knew he hadn’t fully recovered. She could see him staring at her, sizing her up out of the corner of her eye.

“Yer neck’s gonna hurt if ya keep going like that, stupid lil bird.”

She moved her face down, unable to meet his scrutinizing gaze. She had her chance to talk to him here but now that she was in close proximity to him, all of her thoughts disappeared.

Jude sighed, lifting his leg and crossing it before taking out a newspaper. She tilted her head up, now able to look across as he read. “I don’t get ya at all,” he muttered. “Weird lil bird.”

Christabelle was able to finally speak to Jude when he led her to his office after checking in on the various cargo boxes that were coming in and out of the port.

His office was small, narrow,  and cramped. If the carriage ride made her uncomfortable with its tight enclosed space, this was even worse with the numerous items strewn across the room. Jude took a seat in his plush chair, easily avoiding the stacks of items that were piled up to her waist.

Christabelle observed the space. Her hips were twice the size of Jude’s and she wasn’t known for her gracefulness. It would be extremely easy to knock down his belongings.

Jude’s voice interrupted her. “Ain’tcha going to sit down already?”

She moved forwards, trying to will her body to become narrow as she moved to her side, sliding so that she wouldn’t knock anything down. However,  just the brush of her hips made one of Jude’s piles wobble. She grabbed it, trying to keep it together before her other side made the other pile fall to the floor. “Oh crumbs.”

She peeked at Jude who was watching her with…some kind of amusement. 

That made her lower her guard causing her to bend down and pick up what she had dropped, making the stack she was just holding crumple on the floor. “Sorry!”

“Leave it,” Jude said as she struggled with the space. “Just sit down.” His tone was harsh but his eyes continued to show that same amusement, his elbows to his desk, his chin resting on his knuckles. 

Christabelle sat in the chair in front of Jude. It wobbled as she did. She couldn’t bring herself to do it. To bring up why he was giving her roses and lending her books or why he came to visit her the other night while covered in blood. Her nerves got the best of her.

“That kooky old man wants ya to observe me, eh?” he said.

“It was William,” she said, clarifying for him. “He made the suggestion.”

Jude’s hands dropped to the desk as he steepled his fingers. “That man and his absolute--” he paused, glaring at her. “Why would he send a clumsy, annoyin’ and ignorant lil princess at me?”

“I don’t know,” she said, trying to shrug off his insults. “But my goal is to survive the month and go back to my life. And if that means I have to watch over you and write reports about you and your curse then so be it. I will do anything to keep up my end of the bargain, even if it means being with you for the next four weeks.”

Jude’s eyebrow raised and he gave out an exasperated sigh. She could still hear his wheezing. “Alright…but I better not hear a single complaint outta ya like “No!” or “I wanna go home!””

She nodded. “Okay. I won’t get in your way.”

“Promise not to run till the end, got it princess?”

Christabelle was warned about making promises with Jude but this was one she knew she could keep. “I promise.”

Jude smiled and she felt something prickle at the back of her neck as he leaned forward. “I’ve always wanted a secretary.” 

“A secretary?”

“Think yer too good for it?”

“No! Of course not. I’ll help you if makes things easier.”

“It won’t. You’ll make it worse, I reckon. But as my secretary, ya better start cleaning up the piles of things ya dropped. And put it in the exact order I had them in.”

“Huh? But I--”

He leaned in further, his voice firm and commanding. “Ya better get to work, princess, or I’ll make sure ya never leave this room.”

Something stirred in her chest from his tone. “Right on it, Jude.”

“Call me Sir. Or Master will do just fine,” he said with a smirk.

“Yes, Sir!” she said, moving down to the floor where she had picked up and organized the papers and reorganized them until they inevitably fell again because she kept knocking them down with her body.

Which is why later that night, after a long day of being Jude’s beleaguered secretary that consisted of being on the floor,  she was baffled to see not just one purple rose at her doorstep, but three purple roses. 

“Jude Jazza is the most incorrigible man on earth.” She did the sign of the cross. These next four weeks were going to be long. “God help me.”

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Adoration

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Fem. Reader

Summary : You and Aemond have gotten married, and are off for your wedding night. How will it go for you both?

Themes : Soft | Slow burn | Smut

Warnings : Aegon trying to be a loathsome cad | Height difference | Kissing | Foreplay | Oral (f. receiving)| Dirty talk | First time |  Penetrative sex |

Word count : 5.4k  words

Minors DNI | 18+

Translation: 

Kēlītsos - Kitten

This is the final one-shot of three separate fanfics, this time featuring Aemond. I’ve changed several things, and I hope you all enjoy it. 

Want to be tagged? Want to know the reader request rules? Read all here

All eyes were on you and your husband, some staring so intently you could feel holes being burnt into your back.

The prince, on the other hand, seemed to pay the gawking no mind. He kept one arm firmly around your waist, holding you as close to him as possible as the two of you made your way around the floor, your right hand snug in his left. And so small, compared to his. The prince was so tall, towering over you, your head not even reaching his chin. He had barely uttered a sentence the entire time, save for the vows he said in front of the High Septon.

And you had been warned about it. Aemond was a private man they said, given to few words. You were warned of other things too, that the prince preferred books and swordplay and solitude to anything else. You even experienced some of it, the silence, the guarded looks, the respectful distance. You sighed, determined to make the best of your circumstances.

“Are you alright?” He asked suddenly. “Is something troubling you?”

You had caught the king leering, his eyes half-filled with anger, his fingers white at the joints, and stiffened. “Nothing, husband,” you swallowed, hoping not to offend by complaining about his brother. For good and for ill, Aegon was kin, after all. “I’m fine.”

“Please do not lie to me,” Aemond whispered as his gaze skimmed over the floor, looking for the source of your sudden discomfort. When he caught Aegon staring, in front of his own wife no less, he ground his teeth. Aegon was never one for subtlety, he thought with disgust. “And do not fear my brother. Aegon is coming nowhere near you.”

How was that even going to be possible tonight? “But the bedding ceremony…” You had heard of this strange Westerosi custom and dreaded it. The thought of that lecherous king coming anywhere near you made you dread it even more. 

“I did away with it, made it clear that I won’t subject you to such a humiliation. And as my mother would tell you, I did it in the least polite way imaginable.” Aemond leaned in to whisper conspiratorially. “Why do you think the king looks like he’d swallowed a live toad?”

His confession made you gasp, then giggle. “You threatened the king?” you tsked and whispered. “Very bad form, husband.”

Aemond’s eye twinkled, a rare thing with him. “You’re wrong, wife. I didn’t threaten the king. I just… educated him on all the things that could go wrong as he went about his day.”  

That was the end to further talking as others joined the dancing. The two of you continued to sway to the music, wrapped in a bubble of blissful silence. Aemond’s thoughts circled to what was to happen later when the two of you retired for the night.

He kept thinking of that night over a decade ago when Aegon thought it fit to take, no, drag him over to the pleasure house. The woman in question was skilled and showed him many things, but Aemond never truly cared for it and just wanted the night to end. He never went back, only ever kept one bedmate and no more. He turned to you, doubt plaguing him, worrying him. He prayed to all the gods who would listen that he didn’t ruin tonight. For now, though, he would content himself with running a thumb over your fingers, rubbing his hand over your back as the two of you danced. He swallowed when you leaned into him, his heartbeat roaring in his ears when you tucked your head under his chin.

You took a steadying breath when you felt his thumb rubbing over yours. Aemond was called a monster by many, ruthless and vengeful, yet here he was, being gentle with you, putting an end to something you knew you weren’t going to look forward to. But did that mean he’d be considerate in other ways as well? You heard the stories, of how some husbands took their pleasures without care or consideration, like the king, but would Aemond be like them? Or would he be different?

“What are you thinking about, wife?”

You look up at him, stunned by him talking again. “I,” you licked your lips nervously, heat blooming in your cheeks when his gaze drifted to your mouth. A thousand excuses flashed before your eyes. “I was thinking about…” do not lie to me, he’d insisted. You sighed, deciding to be truthful. “tonight. A-after the feast, I mean.”

Aemond focused on your lips, and how they moved with each word. “I was thinking about it also,” he somehow managed, his gaze moving up quickly. “But there’s no need for you to worry.” His gaze slowly drifted to your lips again, his mind haunted with visions of your mouth opening under his. “I won’t hurt you. I promise.”

"I will hold you to that," you mumbled tartly, your hands flying to your mouth when you realized what you said. "Forgive me, husband, my tongue got the better of me, and--"

Aemond took your hands back into his as a new dance started. "Please don't fear me," He pleaded softly. "Many people already fear me, my wife shouldn't be one of them."

The prince is bound to have some goodness in him, you were reminded of your mother's words, the ones she told you when your parents first talked to you about the engagement. Try to see it.

Stopping the bedding ceremony, asking you not to fear him, promising to be gentle with you. Were those glimmers of the goodness you were asked to seek?

A hand gliding over your back startled you and made your head reel. A sound blew out on your next breath, soft and dreamy, something between a whimper and a soft sigh. Aemond melted when he heard that dreamy sigh. He wanted the feast to end and for everyone to leave. Between you arriving in Kings Landing and everything turning into a flurry of wedding preparations and heavily chaperoned outings, he didn't have a chance to truly be alone with you, and he was counting the minutes to do so.

                              ✵✵✵

There were speeches.

Followed by the finest Arbor wines.

Followed by more speeches. One such was a particularly long and boring lecture from the High Septon. Several guests came close to nodding off. When your eyes grew heavy, your head started to droop, and you muttered quietly, "Now I know why people call him warm milk." You could have sworn Aemond chuckled under his breath.

“That’s probably the kindest thing people have called him,” he mumbled, just loud enough for you to hear, making you smile. 

Finally, it was over, much to everyone’s visible relief. 

Then, a large, elaborately decorated cake had to be wheeled into the feasting hall. You take in the sight of the cake as it is brought over slowly, inch by inch, trying to figure out how much such a confection would have cost. Clearly, the royal family had spared no expense for the ceremony and the feast. "To remind everyone who is in charge," you had heard one guest mumbling to another. "Especially those who supported the blacks."

The hint seemed to have been well received, judging by some of the looks in the crowd.

You went forward with Aemond to cut the cake. Again, you had to place your hand in his, as he held out his sword. Dark Sister, the one he won after slaying Daemon Targaryen, in a battle that nearly cost him his life and the life of his dragon, Vhagar. The sword was light, clearly made for a woman. Ripples in the blade seemed to gleam and then grow darker as if they were absorbing the surrounding light. There was magic here, and the blood of countless souls. You shivered. "Don’t be afraid," Aemond whispered. "It’s just a sword."

You wanted to roll your eyes. Just a sword, he says. Right.

The blade came down, and the cake was cut. Aemond’s hand seemed to warm over yours, keeping your grip steady as steel bit into soft cake. You would have relished eating as much cake as you wanted but you couldn't do it. The cake meant the feast was about to end, and the two of you would depart for your wedding night. Still, you made yourself eat a slice as all eyes were on you. Aemond toyed with his, moving pieces about with his fork, his eyes darting around the hall. He seemed to be as nervous as you.

Aemond looked around, waiting for the cake to be served and for the feast to end. He caught you eating, daintily gliding your lips over the pads of your fingers, picking up cake crumbs and bits of icing. Seven help him, but the very sight of you doing it made him dizzy, made him crave your lips on his. When the Master of Ceremonies signaled an end to the festivities, Aemond was the first to stand up. 

"Come, wife. It is time," said Aemond, as he helped you out of your chair. You take his hand, your palm going cold and clammy out of nervousness. There was a reassuring squeeze as if telling you everything was going to be well. When you turned to him, you could have sworn Aemond winked. 

The king stood up with the rest, abruptly left his table, and made his way toward you both. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Otto Hightower quickly jumping out of his chair and making his way over. 

"Brother," Aegon smiled brightly for everyone's benefit, but you weren't fooled. You could still see anger in his eyes. He wasn’t pleased with being denied, that was obvious. "Congratulations again on your nuptials."

Aemond put himself in front of you, trying to block Aegon’s view. His sword arm inched towards the hilt of Dark Sister. "Thank you, brother." He forced himself to respond, his words dripping with ice. "For your wishes."

Aegon, now resorting to a leer that made you shrink back, did not attempt to leave. "I hope you’ll be staying here, in the Red Keep?"

"No." That was one thing that pleased Aemond, saying no to Aegon. "On the morrow, I’ll be taking my bride with me to Driftmark."

The seat of the now-extinct House Velaryon. Aemond had been given lordship over it after the war. Having repelled Myrish and Tyroshi attempts to overtake the island, he’d proven himself worthy of the title.

"You're taking y/n and leaving?" Aegon hissed indignantly. "What the fuck for?"

First the leering, now this. "Why does that concern you, your grace?" Angered by his brother’s lack of respect towards their sister and you, Aemond took a step forward, forcing Aegon back away. The king wilted when the white-hot need to murder burned in his brother's eye. You rushed to Aemond's side, wondering if it was wise to intervene and potentially create a scene.

In the end, Otto saved you from making that choice by quickly coming between the two brothers. "It doesn’t grandson," he smiled grandly, desperate blue eyes resting on his second grandson. "His grace is merely being curious, that is all."

“Curious, mmm. Interesting choice of words though, don’t you agree...” Aemond turned to his grandfather, trailing off when Otto looked at him as if begging him to stand down. Everyone was watching, Aegon especially, and with scheming eyes. Not wanting to leave you exposed or vulnerable, Aemond ground his jaw and composed himself. By tomorrow the two of you would be on Vhagar’s back, flying to your new home. Aegon would never come to Driftmark for he loathed life on the island, and Aemond had little interest in life at court. "Of course, grandfather," he said. "We will bid you both goodnight."

As you walked away you caught snippets of Otto Hightower giving a quiet but sharp dressing down to the king. “So the rumours are true?” Unable to help yourself, you asked when the others were well out of hearing. “Your grandfather is the only person who could truly control your brother?”

Aemond just sighed in defeat. So much for their efforts in concealing the miseries of his immediate family. “I’m afraid so,” he said, as he escorted you from one corridor to another, up stairways, and through different rooms. There was no point in hiding such things from you. You were his wife now and bound to hear more as time went on.

The very notion filled you with dread. “Then what happens, husband, when Lord Hightower dies?”

Aemond had considered the possibility of the realm falling into chaos once his grandfather has passed on and he had no interest of sticking around and cleaning more of Aegon’s messes. Within a week of your arrival in Kings Landing Aemond started making plans, to take you with him to your own country the moment Otto Hightower’s body was put into the ground. “Let’s just hope the king follows him not long after.”

                            ✵✵✵

Aemond’s chambers were airy, with balconies that opened to the sea. The air here smelled subtly of salt. 

You walked out and looked out into the night. Under the light of a full moon, you could see a large hump on the adjoining strip of the beach. There was a low, deep, rumble, the hump went up and down as if it were breathing. "Vhagar," Aemond said, almost startling you. "She finds it harder to wake up now."

You could hear it, the faint tinge of sadness in his voice. Vhagar came into life when he was older than the others, a dragon only a few had been able to claim. Vhagar was far too old now, too slow, her fighting days well and truly behind her.

"Fighting Caraxes weakened her, left her with wounds that never truly healed,” Aemond looked on fondly at the beast that had carried him throughout the war. "The Maesters are giving her three more years. Five, if we’re lucky."

"Just three years?" The last living connection to the conqueror and his sisters, the last true war dragon, snuffed out in three years. "And will she be strong enough to take us to Driftmark?"

"We have to use her. Otherwise, the old lady will never let me hear the end of it if I leave her here and she has to follow me to Driftmark." Not wanting to think about Vhagar’s demise, Aemond went back inside and got a fire going to steady his jangled nerves. "But enough of that. Why don’t you come inside, mmm?"

There were butterflies in your belly when Aemond took off his boots and removed his rings. You gulped and went in, walking towards the four-poster bed, your hands working on the clasps of your dress. You felt his eye on you, watching your every move. Aemond could tell you were nervous by your fingers struggling with the clasps, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. He came over, his hands gently pulling yours away. "Let me," he said. 

You stand still, your cheeks burning, as your dress loosens around your body. "You’re still frightened," Aemond murmured. "Why?"

You had been trembling despite your efforts to calm your nerves. "I—I’ve never been with anyone before and…"

"No handsome stableboy stealing your kisses? No," He cut you off and ground his teeth, as a sharp pang of jealousy stabbed him in the gut. "Dashing sellsword winning your favours?"

How it pleased you so, seeing him worked up like this. You felt tempted to say yes, just to see what his reaction would be like, but you stuck to the truth instead. "No." 

"But you’re Myrish," said Aemond, as he undid the last of the clasps. His hands then moved up to slip the dress down your arms. Goosebumps spread over your skin when his hands glided down your exposed flesh. "I thought your people were – freer – so to speak, with their affections."

"Not all of us, no." You stepped out of the dress that had now pooled around your ankles, your body only covered in a thin silk shift. "And I have heard of your," you remained motionless once more, this time as large hands reached back to undo the braids and coils in your hair. "Reputation."

Aemond arched a brow, his violet eye glinting in the moonlight. “My reputation, wife?” His eye gleamed as a braid came loose, and there was a soft ping, of a clip hitting the ground. "And what kind of reputation is that, mmm?"

"That you’re a kinslayer." More braids and coils came undone, allowing your hair to flow freely around you. "That you’ve done terrible things during the war."

Aemond let his fingers curl around your hair. How many nights had he lain awake, dreaming of all the times he could run his fingers run through your hair. "The gossips are right, wife. I am a kinslayer, a murderer.” He turned around, so you could undo the single braid in his hair. Having to stand on the tips of your toes wasn’t easy, but you did it. Aemond closed his eye when your palms glided over his shoulders. He swallowed, counting the minutes till he could feel your hands all over his body. "I've killed more people than I could care to count during the war. Cursed by the gods, that’s what I am. I’m vengeful, always carrying a grudge, always wanting to settle debts against those who wronged me."

You trembled when he turned to you again. "But I could be just your monster," he whispered as he took off his coat, and his tunic, leaving his chest bare. "If you let me."

The large pink scar that covered most of his torso was hard to miss. A burn no doubt, a parting gift from Caraxes and the Rogue Knight. Temptation came over you. You let your hand glide up his chest, your heart thrilling when Aemond whispered don’t stop under his breath. "Just my monster?" You asked, your cheeks flushing again when Aemond removed his belt and threw it to the ground. 

"Not just your monster." He shook his head, curling a finger under your chin, tilting it up. Aemond, thinking it best not to remove his eye patch on the first night, dithered on what to do next. Should he lean in and kiss you? Should he scoop you up and carry you to bed? Or perhaps he should loosen his tongue and tell you all the things he had wanted to say since he first saw you. "I wish to be so much more to you."

"Oh?" You grew nervous when he turned you around and moved your hair to one side, so he could undo the lacings on the back of your shift. "L-like what, husband?"

“I wish to be so good to you.” You calling him husband, how Aemond enjoyed hearing it. "I could be your shelter from the storm." Aemond pulled out the last of the laces and slipped a shoulder strap down your arm. His arms hooked around your waist, and hands callused by years of fighting and dragon-riding rested over your tummy. "To be the sworn shield that strikes down all who try to hurt you." 

It felt like your bones turned to water when Aemond pressed his face against the nape of your neck, brushing his nose over your skin. He worked on the other shoulder strap, gradually loosening your shift until it slid down to your waist. “I want to be your island of peace,” Aemond mumbled as you stood perfectly still, your nervousness slowly crumbling to dust when soft kisses pressed against your skin, warming it wherever they landed. “Even when the rest of the world is falling apart.”

 “W-what else?” you hummed when his fingers curled over your belly. You couldn’t see it, the flash of need in his eye when he held you flush against him. You could only feel him, how his body trembled with every breath he took, how warm his skin felt against yours. How good would it feel to surrender to him, you thought, as you closed your eyes and tilted your head to the side. "Tell me more. Please."

Aemond’s tongue loosened even more and he didn't care. If he couldn't confess to his wife then what was the point of being married? “I want to love you. To worship you.” Your eyes flew wide open at the revelation. Everything he just told you was a revelation, but this both shocked and pleased you. “I want you to come to me,” Aemond whispered, his hot breath against your ear sending tingles up your spine. “With everything. Your dreams. And your fears. And your lusts.”

You collapsed into him when he cupped your breasts, his fingers gently playing with soft buds that puckered under his touch. His name rolled off your tongue in a gasp.

Oh, that was all he ever wanted to hear that night and every night after that. His name, rolling past your lips.

Aemond kept touching you, letting his hands glide all over your stomach, the cleft between your breasts, your arms, before moving to your breasts again in slow, teasing caresses. Heat pooled in your core, warmth spread all over your skin as those large hands caressed and squeezed, as his lips latched onto the crook of your neck, gently sucking at the soft flesh.

Feeling you go lax in his arms, your body open to all that he was doing, proved too sinful and enticing for Aemond and he gave in, his hands pulling down on your shift, yanking it past your waist until it fell to the ground, gathering around your ankles in a puddle of fabric. You were so small next to him, he could picture himself carrying you to bed and easily tossing you around as he had his way with you, but not yet. Not until you were comfortable with him and trusted him completely. “I am yours, kēlītsos,” he crooned against your neck, your trembles intoxicating his senses like a heady drug. “All that I have, and all that I am, is yours.”

With that, he whipped you around and dragged you in for a kiss. Your head reeled, your lips yielding to his, soft purrs rising from the back of your throat when his tongue slipped past your parted lips, eager to savour the warmth of your mouth. “As I’m yours,” you heard yourself murmur between kisses. “Now and always, husband.”

Aemond groaned into his kiss. He could already feel it, the arousal in his loins, his body overcome with the need to take all you were willing to give him. When your arms wrapped around his waist he walked you backward, not stopping until you were right up against the bed. “Get in bed,” He cooed, his hands going to work on lace cords. “And lie back.”

You moved up to the pillows, your eyes never leaving his. Aemond peeled off his breeches, a smile tugging at his lips when you blushed furiously and looked away. “Look at me, kēlītsos,” Aemond said gently, as he made his way to you.

Your lessons in High Valyrian had been so few, your grasp of the language so weak. You knew only the basics, Kēlītsos being one of them. Kitten, it meant. “Why do you call me that?” You croaked when he hovered over you, his thighs pushing yours apart as he settled between your legs. “Kēlītsos?”

“Because I want to,” Aemond let his hand glide up your calf, along the inside of your thigh, his breath shuddering as his palm skimmed over soft, supple skin. He knew your body was soft, he felt it while dancing, but he didn’t think it would be this soft. "Does it displease you?” Fear overtook him. Had he made a mistake by calling you that? “I- I could say something else if you like.”

And there had been your family, warning you not to anger him tonight. Oh, if you could only tell them, how their fears were unfounded. “I- I don’t mind,” you trembled when his fingers, callused and hardened after years of fighting, drifted up your belly. “Really.”

 Aemond smiled, really smiled, his entire face lighting up with pleasure. “Good. Then that is what I’ll call you then. But when we’re alone, yes?”

“Yes...” the rest of your answer was cut off when his lips found yours, slow, drugging kisses that robbed you of the very air that you breathed. Your fingers found their way to his hair, to soft locks that seemed to slip through like water. His lips were so soft, his tongue wet and warm as it traced over your lips, his teeth sharp as they gently grazed your lips, leaving them bruised and puffy and you aching when he pulled away. Wet kisses skimmed over your chin and glided over your throat. When you groaned and arched your back he grew bolder, his lips moving lower, leaving a wet trail over your ribcage, your belly, moving along your hips, the insides of your thighs. “A-ae-mond,” you groaned, your fingers scrabbling for purchase against the sheets when his mouth moved to your center, his tongue flicking gently on your wet slit.

The prince moaned when your legs moved over to his shoulders, when your hands got all bunched up in his hair. He massaged your thighs as his tongue pressed deeper into your throbbing pussy, delighting in your babbling, your desperate pleas. An arm moved over to your abdomen and pinned you down even as he pressed his mouth even deeper into your cunt, savouring the very essence that was you. When you bucked your hips he growled and rubbed his thumb over your clit, whimpering, "Let go for me. Please let go for me."

Everything about him shocked you, from his tenderness out there in the hall, to his fire in here, in bed. You felt foolish for being afraid of him, for thinking he'd treat you the way he treated many others. Aemond had been wanting you to trust him, to share pleasure with him, and you could see yourself being genuinely happy with him. All sense of timidness deserted you and the air was thickly peppered with, “more aemond… right there aemond… harder aemond… aemond please.”

"Fuck," Aemond growled when you bucked into him again, when your legs clamped down over his shoulders as if not wanting him to move. He grabbed onto your thighs, discretely looking over at you. Seeing you arching your back, your eyes fluttering with each spasm that rippled over you, shook him. Never had he felt such hunger for a single person, not even with Alys, and Alys was the closest he had come to care for someone. This was different. No, he decided. This wasn't just different, it was so much more, something much stronger, the kind only poets wrote about. He mumbled in High Valyrian, words he'd never dreamt of saying to anyone. When you were safely situated in Driftmark, he'd tell you what they meant. 

Aemond then felt it, the slow coiling of your muscles, the growing trembles in your thighs. You were close, so close. 

No, he thought. Not tonight. Tonight he wanted you to first cum on his cock.

“Not this way, Kēlītsos.” Aemond pulled away and cleaned his lips with the edge of the sheet. He kissed his way back up to you, groaning when your legs slid open and rested against his thighs. He kissed you, his lips gently pulling at yours, purring when you sucked on his tongue. His hands held your hips steady as he drove into your center, his cock slowly stretched your slick walls. 

It hurt. You were prepared for it, but it still hurt. Aemond did his best to distract you, kissing you senseless, not giving a single word of complaint when your nails dug into his shoulders as he sank his full length into your aching cunt. The moan that followed when he claimed your maidenhead was deep and throaty. You felt wave upon wave of pleasure, and not just by your velvety walls clenching around his throbbing cock. You were now his wife in every way.

Kisses drifted over your eyelids as he hovered over you, giving you time to adjust to his presence inside you. “Are you comfortable, Kēlītsos?” Aemond brushed back your hair, his gaze filled with concern. “Do you want me to go on?”

You managed an eager nod,  ignoring the pain, the discomfort. “Yes.” You hooked your legs around his waist, savouring how full you felt with his cock inside you. “I’m ready for this.”

There was the barest hint of a smile. You closed your eyes and jolted when he moved, his thrust sending shockwaves and dragging out sharps gasps out of your mouth. As he began to rock back and forth, the pain slowly gave way, discomfort slowly gave way, pleasure slowly replaced all else, and all you could manage was to moan and mewl his name.

Aemond helped you up and had you straddling his lap as he pressed himself flush against you. This was so much better for you. Your hands reached out, touching, caressing, trying to match what Aemond was doing to you. Feeling your naked flesh against his, your nails raking down his back, your palms gliding over his scar, overwhelmed him. “You like this, don’t you, Kēlītsos?” He rasped into your ear. “Riding the dragon?”

Something about the way he said it aroused you greatly, made you crave to hear more. “Y-yes. I d-do.”

He chuckled breathily as he settled into a pace and rhythm you both liked. When Aemond was not telling you of the things he wanted to do to you, he was kissing you. And when he was not kissing you he let a hand glide over your body, grabbing onto your breasts, thighs, and ass, leaving bruises in its wake. You could only cling to him as he brought you closer, your walls pulsing all too intensely around his cock. “D-don’t s-stop,” you plead even as you arched into him. “P-please… p-please d-don’t stop.”

Aemond pushed you back into bed and quickly propped himself on his hands, slamming his hips, grinding them against the insides of your thighs, the lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin filling the air. You managed to hold onto enough focus, your hips driving back to meet his thrusts, your feet scrabbling for purchase against his back. Your hips kept driving back, not stopping, and your muscles coiled tight like they were about to snap. You push back one last time, and those coiled muscles shattered, the world skidding to an immediate halt as your orgasm ripped through you.

 Aemond felt it, heard it. Your body trembling violently under his, his name blowing past your lips in a half-moan, half-cry. He was far from done and growled, “Hold on Kēlītsos, hold on.” He thrust harder and faster, as his body plunged hard and plunged deep, barely holding on for a few more seconds. When he came it was with a deep, final thrust and an even deeper, satisfying grunt. He kept still while his seed continued to spill into your womb.

You swallowed as your heartbeat slowed and the world slowly started to come into focus. You hear the curtains rustling with the night breeze and the popping and cracking of firewood in the hearth. You felt Aemond moving, his weight shifting as he slowly collapsed next to you. He was exhausted, his chest heaving, his body covered in a thin sheen of sweat. He reached over, pulling you to him, his hands brushing off the beads of sweat that had started to form over your skin. Exhausted but replete, you make yourself comfortable in the crook of his arm. “This night went better than I dreamed, husband.”

Incredibly relieved that he hadn’t ruined this night for you, that he hadn’t messed up the start of his marriage, Aemond cupped your cheek, his thumb grazing your jawbone. His kisses were now soft, and tender. “Anything for you, Kēlītsos.” 

[dira333]

Father and Son - Spock x reader -  part 1

part 2

if you remember reading this on tumblr, good to see you again, old friend. I’m reposting this back on tumblr.

Prompt: “But why is the moon gone?” - Spock

“And Franklin the toad looked up at the sky, searching for the moon that was gone. He looked between the stars, behind the sun and at the edges of the sky where the twilight twinkled, but he couldn’t find it-”

“But why is the moon gone?” The little boy asks.

You sigh softly, looking down into dark questioning eyes.

“Well, Franklin the toad is asking the same thing. Do you want me to read more to find out?”

“Is it New Moon?” The boy asks, “Father explained that during New Moon the Moon isn’t visible from earth.”

“That is true. Do you know why?”

“Sun and Moon have aligned in a way that Earth is on the opposite side of it so that the side of the moon that’s facing Earth is lacking the light of the sun.”

“That’s right. How smart of you.” You push your fingers through his dark hair and watch him blush a proud shade of green.

“Are you going to read me the rest of the story?”

“Do you want me to?” You ask, “Your Dad asked me to stay with you until you fall asleep but we don’t have to read stories for children if you’re so grown up already.”

“Well grandfather told me that grandmother used to read stories to father too, so yes please.”

You smile at that. Who would have thought that Commander Spock has a soft heart for Children’s stories?

“He looked between the stars, behind the sun and at the edges of the sky where the twilight twinkled, but he couldn’t find it and Franklin grew worried. The moon was his friend and as a friend, he had to look out for the moon…”

-

“And Franklin looked up at the sky and waved to his friend, the moon, who waved back, happy to be home again.”

You close the book softly, looking down at the boy who’s sound asleep now. You right the thin blanket around his feet, pulling yourself away from him before you get up and press the panel to open the door.

Commander Spock is waiting right outside.

“He’s asleep,” you tell him, “Franklin the toad can get every child to sleep.”

“How is he?” He asks, touching your shoulder lightly to get a better look on how you’re feeling.

You’re calm, collected and convinced when you answer.

“He is feeling well. He is not afraid of speaking about you or his grandparents, although he hasn’t really spoken about his mother. He does not seem traumatized, nor is he asking about home.”

“Thank you for your assessment.”

He takes his hand back and turns as if he wants to leave. You should leave it at that.

You’re just a communication officer with a degree in psychology. You’re just a crewman he trusts with assessing with his son but not enough to have told you of this son beforehand.

It seems that hardly anyone on board had none of the little boy or his mother, an Ambassador raising their child on Phi13 until she became fatally ill and couldn’t care it anymore.

Commander Spock does not seem to mourn her, but Vulcan’s aren’t really known for showing their emotions openly.

Commander Spock also does not seem to know what to do with the child he could have only seen during short leaves.

You don’t know what has gotten into you if you have a soft spot for the child or the man or both, but you take his elbow, stopping the Commander from getting away.

“I don’t want to push myself onto you, but what are you going to do?”

“What are you referring to?”

“The boy. Your son, commander. Are you going to keep him here or leave the ship to go to New Vulcan or Phi13 with him?”

He raises his eyebrows at you, telling you without words that you’re overstepping unwritten boundaries.

If you want to say anything else about this topic, you have to say it fast.

“I apologize beforehand for my choice of words, but you don’t seem familiar with him. The long time apart might have estranged you from each other. I’d like to help you get to know each other so you can decide wisely, considering his wishes as well as yours.”

You look up at him, almost breathlessly, adding a soft “Please” when he does not respond immediately.

“One week,” he tells you, “To show me progress.”

-

“Hey!” You peek around the corners of Commander Spock’s ready room that has been temporarily turned into the child’s room, “Do you want to play a game?”

The boy sets down the PADD he must have been reading on, looking at you. He looks just like his father, the same eyes, the same hair and haircut, just his nose is a tiny bit different and he has a softer way of talking that he must have learned from his mother.

“What game do you have in mind?”

“I suppose you know chess?” You step into the room, holding up an old-fashioned Terran version of the popular game.

The boy has the audacity to roll his eyes at you.

“There are more advanced versions of this that would be more challenging.”

“Well, I’m sorry, that standard chess is not challenging enough for you,” you tell him, remembering with a smile that he’s still only 8 years old, “Because today’s task is not winning, but teaching. You’ll have to teach me how to play first.”

“You don’t know chess?” He looks utterly surprised at that fact.

“When I was your age,” you tell him, “There used to be a cafe down the street where we went to every day. I helped to serve and learned sentences in as many languages as I could to greet the customers.”

“Your parents have a cafe?” He asks, setting up the game.

“They had. They sold it so they could travel the world before they retire.”

“Are they still alive?” He asks and you smile at him.

“They are. I got a holo message from Mumbai last week. If you want I can show it to you later.”

“Maybe,” he tells you, pointing towards the Chess game, “Let us play first.”

-

You hear the door swish and keep another smile to yourself. Right on time.

“Oh, Commander Spock,” you turn to send him a smile, “Your son is teaching me how to play Chess. Why don’t you take a seat and watch? I think I’m a pretty fast learner.”

“She has managed to make some moves without my help,” your young teacher tells and Spock takes a seat without another word to watch you.

“No,” he speaks up five games later, reaching out his right hand to stop you from moving your knight, “If you do this, he will beat you in at least three moves.”

“Well, thank you for the advice,” you tell him, pulling your hand back, “But we will have to ask my teacher if you’re allowed to help me.”

You both look towards his son, who is clearly enjoying the fact that he’s allowed to decide.

“He may. Maybe you can win at least once with his help.”

“That does sound like a challenge, Commander Spock, don’t you think?”

Twenty minutes later you excuse yourself for a quick toilet break. They tell you they will wait for your return, but when you step back into the room, they’re focused on playing again. You get something to drink and take a seat on the side, not wanting to leave when it’s finally so peaceful.

[nautiscarader]

What the hecking heck has happened? - a post-not-really-mortem

What the hecking heck has happened?

So you might have noticed I have been absent for the past 2.5 months. So, where have I been? What has happened to me?

Well, you see, I got this magical music box, and when I opened it, I was transported into a different world full of talking frogs, toads and newts! I've had wonderful adventures, made lots of friends and-

Yeah, nope. I've been in a hospital.

WITH NO INTERNET

I feel you, Anne.

But let's start…

Serious warning: I will be describing my stay at the hospital, and it may get touchy for some of you. Proceed with caution.

Chapter 1: "Not so much Fall as Saunter Vaguely Downwards."

So in mid-November I fell from my bed. I have multiple sclerosis and for the life of me I couldn't lift up. I had lots of bruises, so I had to be taken to hospital to clean them and then do something more with my illness… But that is just the beginning…

Chapter 2: The ballad of lemon cocaine

So here I am, lying in bed, getting meds, and around day 3 the nurse brought me a small cup full of white powder. I looked at her and blurted out "What am I supposed to do with it, snort it?" and she replied "No, sir, you're supposed to mix it in your tea or soup… " and she went away. That powder was some protein to help my wounds rebuild, btw.

But a few weeks down the line there was a twist: they gave me another powdered drink, and this one was lemon-flavoured! So I was mixing them up and called it "lemon cocaine". And it was delicious.

Chapter 3: And then shit happened

There is this nasty thing called Clostridium which gives you diarrhoea. And I caught it. So for the next ten days… well, I was busy, shall we say.

Yeah.

Chapter 4: "we got robbed!"

Imagine my surprise when one day I get a call… from Police. Turns out someone broke into my and my neighbour's basements.

So I've had another thing to worry about.

For exactly two days.

Because the thief took my neighbour's power cutting tools… AND PUT THEM ON AN AUCTION SITE.

WITH LOTS OF PICS [READ: EVIDENCE]

So that went smoothly, we both recovered everything stolen.

chapter 5: Then I was robbed.

Of some shirts. Because I was putting my used shirts and shorts in a special, red garbage bag. What I did not know is that red garbage bags are used for hazardous materials.. you can guess what happened.

RIP to my original Wakfu kickstarter shirt.

Well, it had a rip, so…

Chapter 6: Return of the shit.

So… one day my doctor came and said straight to me.

Another 10 days…

Chapter 7: I am thick skinned

And that is a problem for applying cannulas (cannuli?). Those things they insert into veins to make drips work. Apparent;y my skin is thick and locating blood vessels was incredibly difficult sometimes. The record was 6.Six times they stabbed me until it worked.

And even when they worked,the band-aids they used just wouldn't stick to my skin.

Chapter 8: Hot potato, cold potato.

So here is a thing: I don't like lying next to a heater, especially at night. I have troubles with breathing, get sweaty, etc. So naturally, they've put me right next to one. But it was okay,cos I could just turn the knob to 0, right?

No,I couldn't.

One nurse couldn't.

Second one couldn't.

A PLUMBER couldn't.

So they had to move my bed to the opposite side of the room, with the plumber telling me he'd fix it.

That was the last time I have seen him.

But after a week they moved me from neurology to neurology rehab ward, where…

They've put me in a bed next to another heater!

But this time, there was a twist… or rather,there wasn't. COS THERE WAS NO KNOB.

It took them three weeks to find one.

Chapter 9: Rehab

So I was moved to a rehab ward, where every day I was being stretched, twisted and reassembled so I can move a bit better.And honestly, all the workers they were flipping fantastic - so compassionate, so understanding with patience of saints. I will cherish time I spent with them forever.

Chapter 10: Christmas on closed ward

Time moved on, and, well, Christmas has arrived. And we've had a really neat Christmas eve celebrations! I even got an unexpected present - the mother of another patient in our room (of 4) got each of us a Gilette razor - kinda useless for me,since I was using electric one, but it was so neat, wrapped in red ribbon and all! And she baked us all cakes! And brought a small Christmas tree. Luckily, I had some sweets of my own, I gave them in return. I know it may sound silly or insignificant, but it really was a heartwarming moment.

Chapter 11: In which I became Mr. House

So, no joke, all this time as I have been lying and doing nothing, I was composing this post in my head, with gifs. And one joke would have been that I looked like this:

but I felt like this:

Well.

WELL, WELL, WELL.

Imagine my surprise when one day my rehab guy put me onto THIS COCKING MEDIEVAL TORTURE RACK.

I mean, I have always suspected that irony is another force in our universe, but that has to be a definite proof, right?

I was actually feeling pretty down that day, but when I saw this, I started laughing like a maniac. I explained the joke, since he never played FNV, but he laughed too. We started calling it "mr House treatment".

Chapter 12: The wheelchair.

Around week before Christmas, I was put for the first time on a wheelchair.And after a month of being immobile… it was exhilarating,to finally be able to do SOMETHING on my own.

And then mid-January I got my own! For free! Something something government funding, something something disability insurance, yadda yadda, who cares? I now had a wheelchair!

So for the next two weeks I have been training to make my body adjusted to my new permanent part.

And then… I was out.

AND THEN I NEARLY THOUGHT THE THIEF STOLE MY ROUTER. But no, it was simply hidden for cleaning.

So all this time I have been thinking, which character should I try to identify with?

Maybe Oracle?

Or that kid from that one ATLA episode?

But then I realised there is only choice…

I AM NOW COCKING DAVROS!

So, what now?

As of right now, I am officially disabled.

I take tons of meds, have nurses to help me, and I have to learn to live anew.

It is tough, sometimes really tough.

So I ask you all to be a bit more patient with me.

I will be slower with updates, fics, etc. because I am slower now IRL.

But know that if you are reading this, then you are my friend and I love you.

Oh, and speaking of fics.... Nah, I'll leave it as a surprise ;)

Oh and here is an unnecessary sequel!

[vulpes-fennec]

@elainweekofficial Day 2 🌱

Elain loves to garden, so here's a moodboard of her garden at the River House! Read below the cut for an Elucien one-shot 🦔

Gardening required precision: the right soil composition, watering frequency, timing of planting, and placement. But it also required leniency, for the pollinators, animals, and weather systems that played a role were out of Elain’s control. 

Which was why Elain strung up bird baths and propped up old pots for toads. She left the spiders and praying mantises alone, even though they scared her. She suppressed the urge to tidy everything into neat arrangements, knowing that a little messiness was beneficial for the ecosystem.

Gardening had its fair share of physical work, too. Elain was not a warrior like Feyre or Nesta, but she still flexed her muscles by lugging the watering can around, yanking out weeds, digging up roots, and vanquishing the pests and plant illnesses. 

Gardening was the satisfaction of watching the spring buds flower, of biting into the first summer harvest. But out of everything, experiencing warm sunshine on her skin was Elain’s favorite part of gardening. 

It was shaping up to be a perfect day, she thought. Already Elain had changed the bird bath, refilled the bird feeder, turned the compost pile, pruned the bushes, and inspected the budding fruit trees. She was in the middle of harvesting a bundle of herbs for dinner when she heard distressed squeaking coming from around the bend. 

“Oh no!” Elain cried when she spotted the source of the squeaks. A large hawk had a small creature clasped in its talons, and was taking flight. “Stop! Stop this right now!” 

The animal squirmed its way out of the hawk’s grip and fell several feet to the ground, to Elain’s horror. She rushed over immediately, finding a small hedgehog dragging its hind foot as it struggled towards a brambly hedge. 

“You poor thing!” Elain exclaimed. The hedgehog curled into a ball of brown and black spikes when she approached. Elain knelt down in the grass, cooing softly. “It’s alright little one. You’re safe with me.” 

The hedgehog did not seem to think so. It let out another cry of terror when Elain gingerly touched it. She winced at the spines pricking her calloused palms. A quick glance revealed the hawk waiting patiently in the tree for its afternoon snack, its beady yellow eyes glaring at Elain. 

“Go away!” she shouted up at it. “Don’t you dare come any closer!” She turned her attention back to the hedgehog, who was trembling in fear thanks to her raised voice. 

“I didn’t mean you, little one,” Elain whispered softly, hunching over the hedgehog. “Please don’t be afraid. I only want to help you.” Bracing herself against the temporary pain, Elain gently scooped the curled hedgehog up and placed it into her straw hat. 

Gravel crunched urgently behind her.  

“My lady?” The emissary of the Night Court stood just a few yards away from her, looking like he’d been running. Lucien Vanserra. Her mate. 

Elain stiffened. “What are you doing here?” The words came out sharper than she’d intended, and she regretted using them as her first line of greeting. 

Lucien’s flaming red hair glinted in the sun like molten ore, his russet eye studying her carefully. The scar cutting down his face only drew attention to his angular features. It had been several weeks since Elain saw him last, and every time he reappeared in her life, his handsome face seemed to grow begrudgingly more attractive. “I came to hand deliver an invitation for Queen Vassa’s coronation,” he replied. “To Feyre and Rhysand, but it seems they’re nowhere to be found.” 

“They’re at the Hewn City.” Elain’s words were a frank dismissal to her ears. She winced.

Lucien’s mouth tightened. “Well, I heard you shouting at something so forgive me for making sure you were alright.” 

I don’t need your protection, Elain wanted to say, but she kept her mouth shut. Her good manners always eluded her whenever she saw Lucien Vanserra. 

“I’m fine. It’s just a hedgehog with an injured foot. I’ll have to send for Madja tomorrow morning.” 

“Broken limbs should be set and healed as soon as possible. Waiting until morning may be too late.” Lucien frowned slightly. “I can try to help.” 

“You’re not an animal healer,” she objected. 

“No, but I did fix your sister’s broken nose under the mountain.” Lucien’s good eye flickered with the faint memory of the traumatic hellhole. 

I don’t need your help, Elain wanted to say, but the hedgehog’s shrill vocalizations begged to differ. “Alright,” she admitted. “We can go to the greenhouse.” 

The creature was shaking like a leaf when Elain set the hat down on the surface of the greenhouse work table. The surface was littered with gardening notes and bottled tonics. A cupboard, filled with seeds and dried flowers stood opposite a shelf of gardening tools. And every other available space was filled with plants. 

The greenhouse was sizable, but the space felt small and hot the moment Lucien stepped over the threshold. He stood silently in the doorway, golden eye clicking and whirring at the haphazard interior. 

She had gauze and healing salves…but perhaps ointments that worked on the Fae would be toxic for animals. The enchanted gloves Lucien gifted her were carefully tucked in a box. Elain had barely used them, only taking them out occasionally to admire its make. But perhaps it was time to put away that stubborn pride…Elain glanced over her shoulder furtively at her mate.

“Hello, aren’t you a cute little thing?” Lucien greeted the hedgehog as he bent down until he was eye level with the table. “My name is Lucien, Night Court’s emissary.” 

He extended a tanned brown hand towards the creature. The hedgehog peeked out at the emissary, unfurling itself to sniff his fingers with its pointed nose. “That’s right, there’s nothing to be afraid of.” 

“What do we do?” Elain approached the table anxiously. 

Surprise flitted across Lucien’s face at the sight of her gloved hands. “If you could sit and hold the hedgehog so I can see the leg…”

“It’s me, Elain,” she cooed to it, extending her hand just as Lucien did. “I’m going to have to pick you up now.” The hedgehog shrank away, and Elain’s shoulders slumped in disappointment.

“You can do it,” Lucien said encouragingly. “I’m talking to the hedgehog, but I suppose it applies to you as well.” 

“Why does it like you more than me?” Elain demanded indignantly.

Lucien’s grin was positively smug. “Hedgehogs were quite prevalent in the Autumn Court. They thought quite highly of me.”

Elain rolled her eyes at him. “Come on now. Up onto my hand we go. You’ve seen me around the garden, haven’t you? I’m not a stranger.” The hedgehog reluctantly limped onto her outstretched hand. “Good job, little one!” 

Elain’s heart pounded anxiously as she settled on the chair, for the creature seemed so frail and small. The hedgehog scrunched up its small face, crying out as she shifted it onto its back. Elain gasped when she noticed several red lacerations on its furred underbelly. “Cauldron, it’s worse than I thought,” she fretted. “And I think it’s a female.” 

“Hmmm, you’re right.” Lucien murmured as the hedgehog made more high-pitched whimpering sounds. “Shhh, it’s alright, sweetheart. Let me take a look.” Heat shimmered in the air between them as Lucien knelt in between her legs and leaned closer.

“If you want to give him a bite, you have my permission,” Elain added. As cute as it was, hedgehogs were still wild animals. And she didn’t know if they were aggressive when threatened. 

“I don’t have a problem with biting.” Elain’s blood ran hot when Lucien looked up at her with a humorous glint in both eyes. She quickly looked away. How can I be thinking improper thoughts about him when this poor hedgehog is practically dying in my lap?

Golden light shimmered as the cuts on the hedgehog’s soft belly melded together and disappeared. Elain sucked a breath in, fascinated. But the happy moment was short-lived. 

Lucien’s fingers gently probed the crooked foot, eliciting a plaintive screech from the hedgehog. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” Regret laced in his russet eye. 

Elain felt like crying herself at the hedgehog’s distress. “Oh, Lucien. Please hurry! It seems to be in so much pain!” 

His face was grim. “I need to make sure it’s set in the proper position before I heal it. But it’s going to hurt her,” he explained. 

Elain hoisted the hedgehog up so that it leaned against her chest, praying her heartbeat would calm it down. “He’s trying to help you,” she whispered to it. “Please hold on just a little longer. Everything will be alright.” 

“It’s going to be alright, munchkin,” Lucien’s low voice soothed. He tilted his head left and right, as if assessing the proper positioning for a hedgehog foot. “You’ve been such a brave girl. Are you going to be the bravest little hedgehog in Velaris?” 

Golden webbing—a spell—was woven along the hedgehog’s ankle, bracing it in the proper position. The hedgehog screeched. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Lucien murmured. 

“Oh, when this is over, I’ll build you a little hedgehog house,” Elain added, trying to keep the hedgehog’s attention on her face. “I’ll make sure you have plenty of treats. We can invite some hedgehog friends over, alright? Don’t think about your foot, darling.” 

A flash of light burst from Lucien’s hand and a final terrified squeak pierced the air. The hedgehog writhed in agony briefly, shivering and whimpering. “Oh gods, oh gods,” Elain gasped. “Is it alright? What happened?” 

“I think so. Put it on the table and see,” Lucien said gently. The hedgehog was indeed back to normal, ambling around on all four legs and making snuffling sounds. 

“It worked. It really worked!” Elain smiled broadly, her heart swelling with relief and joy. “Thank you for helping, Lucien.” Before she could stop herself, she wrapped her arms around his neck in a hug. Realizing what she’d done, Elain disentangled herself from him sheepishly. 

Lucien shrugged as he stood up. “Couldn’t have done it without you.” He paused. “Did you really mean it? Everything you said to the hedgehog? About building a whole house and bringing more of its kind over?” 

“Yes?” Her mate appraised her with a small smile on his lips that stripped Elain bare. Did he think she was being childish? “And what about it?” Elain demanded hotly. 

“It’s refreshing.” Lucien glanced over his shoulder on the way out of the greenhouse. “The way you care for a small hedgehog, when you treated it gently…it gives me hope for this world.” 

You too, Elain wanted to say. But her mate had already winnowed away without saying goodbye. Meanwhile, the hedgehog was sniffling at a gold-embossed envelope on the worktable. The invitation to Queen Vassa’s coronation had indeed been delivered.

[delimeful]

carry them home (6)

warnings: illness mention, tension/fear, panic, mentions of antiquated medical methods, blood and injury

-

The illness hit Logan hard and fast, not that Janus was allowed to witness it.

He’d been immediately ordered in no uncertain terms to stay far away from their normally unflappable leader in his compromised state, the result of Vee’s paranoia rearing its head at precisely the most inconvenient time.

For some reason, the forced distance grated on him as it hadn’t before. Perhaps it was the uselessness. Like this, he was absolutely no help at all. And sure, he was no healer, but he knew a thing or two about being sick.

In the early hours of the next morning, Vee approached him with fresh trails of ink-black dripping from his eyes, and told him they were going to the nearest town.

“If you try anything, I’ll kill you,” Vee said, and it wasn’t a threat, but a simple fact.

Janus didn’t ask what he had Seen. He didn’t need to.

Vee was driven by fear. There were only a few things that would frighten him more than walking into an unknown town with an untrustworthy human, alone.

He pushed himself to his feet, and held himself carefully still as Vee ducked behind him and sliced through the rope around his wrists. The changeling scurried back the moment the rope fell away, as though Janus was a wild animal he was trying not to corner. Or vice versa.

Janus stretched his shoulders out in big, slow motions, and then twitched a hand out to tug the hood of Vee’s cloak up over the kid’s head, ignoring the startled snarl it earned him.

“I can get you what you need,” Janus told him. “If you can deign to follow my lead while we’re there.”

Vee’s lip curled, displaying a sharp fang, but he didn’t argue. “Then let’s go.”

By the time they reached the outskirts of town, any remaining bravado had faded from the set of the kid’s shoulders, leaving behind barely-concealed terror. If they walked into town like this, even the slowest farmhand would notice the strangeness of it.

“Kid,” Janus said, lowering himself into a squat to meet Vee’s eyes under the hood. “You need to calm down.”

“Shut up,” Vee snapped, “you don’t know what I know. If you could– could see, you’d be scared, too.”

His breathing was getting faster, now. Janus managed half a syllable before the oath sent a bundle of warning shocks down his spine. Right, he’d been so politely instructed to shut up. So much for talking it out.

He reached out and grabbed Vee’s hand instead, holding on through the reflexive jerk away, and started tapping a simple rhythm on his knuckles. With each repetition, he inhaled and exhaled deeply, setting the example for the kid to follow.

It took a few moments– Janus was glad they hadn’t left the treeline yet– but eventually, Vee regained his senses. He had enough coherency to snatch his hand back, at least.

“We don’t have time for this,” he said, sounding more frustrated with himself than Janus. “Are you ready to do this, or not?”

Still rendered voiceless, Janus blinked pointedly at the kid until he realized.

“... You can talk again,” Vee told him, with more reluctance than Janus personally felt the instruction warranted.

“Very gracious of you,” he replied, levering himself back up to standing. That fit seemed to have wiped out some of the kid’s nervous energy, at least. “You’ll need to hold my hand.”

“What?” Vee asked, as though Janus had just instructed him to fill his pants with toads.

“My hand,” Janus repeated with all the patience he could summon, scanning the road into town for activity. “Most human children your size seek physical reassurance when afraid. You’ll seem shy, instead of seeming suspicious.”

There was a long moment as Vee processed the explanation, his disbelief slowly turning to resignation. “Fine.”

He stuck a hand out as though he was about to get it chopped off, and Janus considered for a moment before reaching over and arranging his fingers so that they were wrapped around his wrist, instead.

“I have delicate hand bones,” Janus informed him primly. “My wrists aren’t much better, so do try not to crush them into dust.”

The grip placed sharp nails right over his pulse point, the artery in easy severing range, and the angle meant that he couldn’t grab Vee back or hold him in place. The kid stared at him for a moment longer before looking away, hood tilting towards the road.

“Fine. Let’s go already.”

Figuring that was probably as good as it was going to get, Janus dusted himself off and led the way into town.

–

Though he probably didn’t intend to, Vee played an excellent shy younger sibling.

The cloak earned them quite a few second glances, but between Janus’s friendly sheepish smiles and the way Vee kept drifting closer to partially hide behind him, they slipped through most of the early morning market without drawing too much notice.

Vee’s grip on Janus’s wrist was crushing, the strength of it fluctuating depending on how many people were within striking range, but despite the way his bones ground together, nothing had actually snapped yet, so he continued on without faltering.

The apothecary’s shop was small but well-stocked, and Janus could already see that they’d find what they needed with relative ease. There were a few custom remedies in stock, but without knowing the skill of the brewer, they were better off with the basics: coriander to reduce fever, mint balm for stomach sickness, and comfrey for the lungs.

He scooted a morbidly-entranced Vee past the shelf with all the jars. They’d pass on the leeches.

The apothecary looked them over speculatively, and Janus offered him a smile, ignoring the way Vee’s nails were digging into his skin. “G’morning, sir.”

“I certainly hope so,” the man replied, pulling the bundles over to inspect what Janus had picked out. “One of you sick?”

Janus really hoped Vee wasn’t trembling visibly. He didn’t glance over to check.

“No sir, it’s for our father.” Janus let his smile falter just a bit. “Ma didn’t want to leave him, so she sent me to get some herbs. He’ll be right as rain, soon!”

The apothecary grunted, and then looked over at Vee. “And that one?”

Vee froze, and Janus prayed his eyes were hidden well enough by his cloak’s shadow as he reached over with his free hand to ruffle the kid’s hair through the hood. “The baby of the family. My ma didn’t want him to be alone but can’t spare an extra eye for him. He’s a bit shy, please don’t mind it.”

Vee shrugged the hand off with all the petulance of an offended kid, which was exactly what he was, so long as one didn’t count the inhuman prick of claws Janus’s wrist was currently receiving.

“Mm,” the man replied, and didn’t seem any more perturbed than before. “That’ll be seven silver.”

Janus contemplated trying to barter, because that left him with nothing but two coins and a deeply suspicious ruby-studded ring in his coinpurse, but in the end simply handed the money over.

It wasn’t like Vee would allow for any detours to pick up anything else, anyhow. No point in clinging to it.

Their goods were wrapped in simple brown paper and slid back over to them, and Janus felt the way Vee’s hand twitched against his arm.

“You want to help carry them?” he asked, using his most patronizing speaking-to-a-child voice for added effect.

Vee’s scowl was a tangible presence in the air, but he nodded and accepted the bundles from Janus with extreme care anyhow.

Janus led the way out of the shop, and picked a path through the mid-morning crowd at a leisurely rate, peering at the stalls closest as they passed like any other patron.

Predictably, Virgil’s posture grew more agitated the longer the act stretched, and within moments, he was overtaking Janus and practically tugging him along as he attempted to hasten their departure. Janus resisted the urge to grit his teeth, offering an eye roll to any wandering eyes that caught on their hurried movement.

“Slow down,” he instructed under his breath, pulling against the kid’s grip on him. “Moving quickly draws too much–!”

“Pick up the pace,” Virgil snapped back quietly, and Janus grimaced as he was forced to match the kid’s speed or suffer the deeply painful consequences.

Whatever. It wasn’t too unusual to see younger children dragging parents around. They still had a chance of making it out undetected–

“Hold, there.” Someone stepped in their path, a hand raised.

Virgil jerked to a sudden stop like a puppet on a string, about as suspiciously as humanly– or in this case, inhumanly– possible.

This time, Janus couldn’t even blame him, because he himself had experienced an unpleasant shock at the sight of their latest roadblock.

Donned in glittering chainmail and a smooth faceplate, the Iron Guard member was both discernable at a glance and entirely anonymous. Some fae could mimic human faces and voices, and would use the skill to imitate commanders or just generally sow discord into hunter groups. Thus, the masks.

Abruptly, Janus realized that Virgil was still frozen in place, the subtlest tremor vibrating through him. He stepped forward, putting part of himself between the Guard and the kid.

“Hail and well met, sir. How can I help you?” he greeted politely, ignoring the way the words tasted like ash on his tongue.

The dark eye slits of the mask watched him for a long moment. “You seem to be in a hurry. Is something the matter?”

Virgil’s grip turned bruising, but Janus didn’t let himself flinch.

“Oh! No, sir, or– yes, but not the sort of matter you’d handle. Our father is sick,” he repeated; the worst lie was an easily contradicted one. “It’s nothing serious, no plague or nothin’, but it's got him bedridden, and my baby brother scares easy.”

The Guard tilted his head slightly. Janus couldn’t tell whether or not he’d bought it.

He inhaled, planning to spin the sort of rambling, long-winded tale that he imagined most would expect from his current farmboy persona, but didn’t get further than the first syllable before Virgil’s grip spasmed around his arm.

The kid made a strangled noise, falling to his knees, and though his face was still covered by the hood, a splatter of black ichor hit the dirt for all to see.

The Guard must have been newly initiated. He took a moment to be startled, to stare, to clutch at the hilt of his blade without drawing it.

Janus indulged in no such hesitation. Between one moment and the next, he’d pulled a sharp, thin blade from his hip, and plunged it into the weak point of the Guard’s leather greaves.

The man toppled with a cry. Before he’d hit the ground, Janus was turning, sweeping Virgil up and into his arms.

Even as his undersized frame was wracked with convulsive shudders, the kid had maintained his grip on the medicine packets. Janus had to admire the dedication.

There was only one way forward: escape. There was never only a single Iron Guard in town, and blending in wasn’t an option while carrying a writhing kid that might start banshee screaming at any moment.

Luckily, Janus’s feet were almost as quick as his tongue.

He tucked the kid closer and wove through the meager crowd with ease, stealing down the closest backroad path as silently as he could manage. Virgil was making high pitched whines through grit teeth, and Janus took a moment to hope the kid hadn’t bit through his tongue.

Another turn, and the treeline was visible. Janus bolted for it, abandoning any modicum of stealth to slip away into the dark of the woods.

There were raised voices behind them, a commotion beginning to stir into a fully-fledged mob, but it didn’t matter. He was out, and he wouldn’t get caught. Not again.

[rumbelleshowdown]

-

Author: apple jacks Group: A Prompts: Draught of Living Death. Fairy ring. Baker.

-

The Goblin King

Belle paused at the clearing. The trees stood like silent sentinels, towering over the forest floor and covering the ground around them with dappled sunlight that filtered through their canopy of leaves. Small clusters of wildflowers lined the path, their petals brilliant and rich in color.

Her cloak was heavy on her shoulders. Her basket was empty.

What was she doing here?

Belle looked back the way she came. Or, tried to. She turned in a full circle, unable to remember where she emerged from. The leaves over her head rustled, and she was struck with the realization that it was the only sound she could hear. No birdsong, so chattering squirrels; just her and the breeze.

There were warnings about the forest, of course. It was all she heard about the first week when she and her papa moved into the village: mysteriously whispering trees, winding paths that turned you around in your journey, bushes that grew sweet plump berries one week and the next producing only poison.

Her father was a practical man, but even he became weary of the forest.

”There’s always some truth to tales such as those, petal,” he said over dinner one night. “Just promise me you’ll be careful.”

“Of course, Papa,” Belle had said. Stories were practical for keeping children close to the village, but that was all they were.

And yet, here she was, standing in a clearing with no memory of why she’d come or even how she’d found it.

Belle spared a glance to her empty basket: she must be here to collect something. Something important, or she wouldn’t have strayed so far into the forest. 

The wildflowers were pretty, the petals a deep blue.They could be used for a dye, perhaps, but there were fields closer to the village, and much safer to venture to. No one would risk this trip for a common color.

Belle looked next to the trees. Around the base were acorns just waiting to be gathered. Acorns had many uses: they could be roasted whole for a snack, or ground up into flour. The baker made a sweet cake from acorns, topped with honey and strawberries his son kept safe from their goats.

The baker’s son, William.

Who had fallen ill six days ago with a high fever and a nasty rash over the left side of his body. And his little sister Ellen was starting to show symptoms, as well as several other village children.

Belle had come looking for a plant that could be used for medicine. No one else had volunteered.

She looked around the clearing again, spotting a log that was half behind the tree she was closest to. On the thick craggly bark sprouted mushrooms, their stalks squat and hidden by their large green caps which in turn were spotted with yellow and brown flecks. She crouched down, breathing in their earthy scent, like a wheat field after it rained.

“I wouldn’t touch those if I were you, dearie,” a voice behind her said.

Belle startled, quickly turning on her heel to see who had spoken.

In the middle of the clearing was a man, if he could be called one. His skin was pebbled like a toad’s but glittered in the filtered sunlight, and he was clad in the leathery skin of an animal Belle could not name. He sneered at her with black moldy teeth, his eyes deep and dark as starlight.

“But I need them,” Belle said unthinkingly, surprised and frightened and trying not to be either.

“You can’t just take things that don’t belong to you, silly girl,” he giggled, wiggling his fingers at her. “Whatever would you need with those, anyway?”

Belle frowned, looking back towards the mushroom log. They were squat and round, the large green caps blending in with the moss, only noticeable because of the yellow and brown flecks. She didn’t even like mushrooms, why would she—

“Medicine!” she yelled, whirling back to face the man.

He hummed, amused. “Are you sure?”

“It'd be easier if I didn’t keep forgetting,” she said tartly.

“Perhaps,” he said, taking a step closer. She did not step back. Belle couldn’t retreat yet. Not when the village was counting on her.

“Are you a fairy?” she asked, trying to grasp her train of thought with both hands.

He gave a derisive snort. “Lucky for you, no.”

“But you are fae, you have to be.” There was something magical about him, even if he lacked wings or a dainty appearance.

“Does it matter?” He sniffed. “Quite rude of you to ask. Oh yes, quite rude, stomping into my forest with nary a care for me or my creatures within.”

“I’m sorry,” Belle said. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I need help, you see.”

He considered her, making a show of looking her up and down, from the crown of her head to the mud-splattered hem of her forest green cloak.

Belle did not squirm, only raised an eyebrow at his scrutiny.

“May I have your name?” The strange man asked, giving her a slit-eyed smile.

In all the stories Belle had heard about the forest, the ones of the fae were the most cautious. The village had taught her the obvious rules: do not step into a fairy ring, do not accept any food or drink they present you, and do not give them your name. 

”Well, that depends. May I have yours?”

He twittered, pleased. “I suppose you may call me Spindleshanks,” he said, voice high and musical.

Belle gave a short curtsy in greeting. “And please, call me…Verna.”

“Verna,” said, taking another step closer. “So, I ask again. What do you want with my mushrooms?”

What mushrooms? Belle blinked, looking around her. She spotted a log, and indeed it was growing mushrooms of a peculiar color: green caps with yellow and brown—

“William!” she yelled, stepping away from the log, even if it was closer to Spindleshanks. “I am here for William.”

“Your betrothed?” he asked with a sneer. “Why else would a fair maiden risk stepping foot into my forest?” He said before Belle could correct him.

But correct him she did: “William is a child. A sweet boy,” Belle couldn’t help but add. “He’s sick. As are a lot of the village children. It’s spreading, and we need medicine before it’s too late.”

“How curious.” The man stood to his full height, which wasn’t much. But considering Belle’s own diminutive stature, she probably wasn’t one to talk. “And what are your children sick with?”

“The doctor says it’s Wyrmblight.”

His eyebrows rose.

“If you are dealing with a case of Wyrmblight,  it is not one of my mushrooms you need. Use one of those, and you are far more likely to make a Draught of Living Death. Or a Forget-Me-Not potion. I can’t recall,” he said with a giggle.

“But—”

“This is what you need.” Spindleshanks waved his hands, producing a puff of purple smoke. As it dissipated, he was left holding a bouquet of dried weeds. “Here we are,” he said indulgently. “Have the children drink a tea made from this liver root, and they’ll be right as roses. Don’t scrimp: twice a day until the rash is gone.”

“You promise?” Belle asked, unable to stem the hope that rushed through her.

“I guarantee it, my dear.”

But when Belle reached out for the bushel, Spindleshanks pulled back.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he said. “We must discuss the price.”

“Yes, of course.” Belle frowned at her memory of another rule: do not accept gifts from the fae. But a deal of equal exchange, now that was different. Safe. But what on earth could she even offer? 

“I don’t have much coin, and not on me. But my father is a craftsman, a good one. If you give me a day—”

“What use do I have for coin or carved wood?” he practically purred, taking another step closer. “No, what I want is something small. You’ll hardly miss it.”

Belle nodded for him to continue. They both knew she wasn’t in much position to say no.

“I want the memory of your first kiss.” 

Belle’s eyes widened in surprise. She hadn’t had a first kiss yet. There had been suitors, sure, but none of them had caught her interest. Maybe he didn’t mean a romantic first kiss, which left the very first one she could remember.

It was a memory close to her heart. Of course it was. Belle remembered her mother in the abstract way of remembering what the sun felt like on her face. She had died when Belle was young, but the memories that she had were precious. Belle could still feel it, if she closed her eyes and concentrated: the warmth of her mother’s love as she kissed her brow.

It was an easy acquiescence, surely. Belle glanced at her empty basket. Her mother wasn’t more important than the health of the village children.

Well.

Then again.

He’d never stipulated her first kiss with who.

Belle took a tentative step closer to Spindleshanks, trying to be brave. “Will I be able to find my way back? And be able to recall what to do with the liver root?” She thought back to the horrible blankness when she had first entered the clearing.

“Miss Verna, you ask so much of me,” he tittered, lips curling up into a smile. “But yes, if you pay the price I am asking, you will leave this forest with your medicine, as well as your memories. Well,” he shook his head, smile turning sly. “Most of them.”

“Then I accept,” Belle said with a nod. 

Before she lost her nerve, Belle grasped the bouquet with both hands, covering the one he used to hold it. She pulled slightly, using the forward momentum of her movement to lean forward while drawing him towards her, and their lips met in the middle.

She got the angle right; feeling his surprise melt into reciprocation, his hand relinquished the liver root and came to cradle the side of her face, while the other hovered near her waist. 

It was gentle, tentative, and everything she could have asked for from a first experience. Pity she wouldn’t remember it.

Spindleshanks stood in shocked silence as Belle broke the kiss, placing her well gotten gains into her basket. As she twirled around to leave, she thought of the final rule: do not thank the fae.

“I am so grateful,” she said brightly, not able to contain her smile. She waved a final time, beaming until the path made a left and the trees swallowed up what she could see of him. She wasn’t afraid; he’d promised she’d make a safe journey home.

She didn’t see, as she turned away, him bringing his hands to his face to gently touch his lips.

-

[imonthemoonitsmadeofcheese]

Apprisal

I will write belated Ikora-week things and post them in future when I am less ill. For now, have another Drifteris story involving Ikora. This time from shortly after Season of the Witch when Eris gets to take a well-deserved vacation.

Link to Ao3 if you prefer to read it there.

“Camping.”

Ikora repeated what Eris had said, her hands flat on her desk, confirming that it was, in fact, what had been spoken.

“Yes.” Eris confirmed, a hint of amusement in her voice.

Ikora looked from Eris, leaning forward attentively in one chair, to the Drifter sprawled in the other, leaning back, looking bored, a coin tumbling on his knuckles.

“Your idea, I’m assuming.”

“We ain’t asking yer permission, Rayray. We’re doing ya the courtesy of keepin’ ya informed.”

Both women stared at him. The coin tumbled from one side of his knuckles to the other and back again. The Drifter looked from one person to the other, gradually getting more and more nervous. He swallowed and sat up in his chair. The coin disappeared into his hand.

“I should stop talking.”

Eris tilted her head slightly, her hand cradling the ball of soulfire in her lap. “Yes,” she said firmly.

He lifted up hands and leaned back in a gesture of surrender.

Ikora kept her face impassive, inwardly laughing.

Eris turned back to Ikora to continue their conversation.

“There is no way Zavala will approve this.” Ikora said it more as a formality than anything.

Eris accepted her soft volley and returned it. “As has been so… bluntly pointed out, we are not requesting his authorization. And, it would be preferable if any… surveillance… was minimal.”

“Xivu Arath could strike at any moment, with full force.” Ikora continued the performative exchange, her eyes searching Eris’ face for confirmation.

“She would need to find us first.” Eris’ mouth twitched in a small smile.

Ikora quirked an eyebrow in acknowledgement. “It seems like an unnecessary risk.” Another gentle pitch.

“The Vanguard has no issues with me being stationed on the moon, in a known location, surrounded by hive. How is this less safe?”

Ikora nodded. “And you are not exactly known for playing it safe.” She looked briefly at the Drifter.

“No.” Eris replied. “I am not. And… of all people, have the two of us,” she gestured to the Drifter beside her, “not proven ourselves… beyond competent at… survival?”

The Drifter watched the two women talking, gradually realizing they were playing some form of 3D chess, but not clear on what was actually going on. Whatever it was, Eris was clearly winning, and that was good enough for him. Maybe it was Hidden shit. It was probably Hidden shit. Absolutely was Hidden shit.

“What about Immaru?” Ikora asked.

Eris sighed. “Would you be willing to delegate the odious task of overseeing that osseous little toad to someone else for a few days?”

“You could always have him stay with Spider,” the Drifter interjected, “He’s got a way with ghosts.”

“No.” Both Ikora and Eris spoke firmly in unison.

The Drifter threw up his hands again.

“As cathartic as that would be,” Eris continued, “...we need him intact, not… sold for parts.”

“That little shit could use a few less parts… maybe the ones that let him speak… just sayin’.”

Eris’ three eyes flashed. “The same might be said for you.”

“Hey!”

“I will find someone.” Ikora said firmly. “Drifter, would you be willing to bring Tom camping with you?”

Eris turned to look at him quizzically.

“That depends,” the Drifter shifted in the chair and met Ikora’s gaze, “Does Tom have ears I don’t know about?”

“No. Geographic location only. Responds to a ping, not broadcasting.”

“Promise?”

“Yes.”

“Fine,” The Drifter twisted his neck until it made an audible crack. “He can come.”

Eris tilted her head.

“Tell ya later.”

“Hmmm…”

“I trust you will at least bring some sort of comms device with you,” Ikora continued, looking back at Eris, “so you are able to request assistance if you need it? Not that you will.”

Eris turned back to face the Vanguard spymaster. “Of course.”

“Well, then.” Ikora folded her hands on her desk. “Have fun.”

“Thank you,” Eris stood and brushed her fingertips against the Drifter’s hand, trailing them up along his arm as she turned and made her way to the door.

Ikora’s eyebrows raised at the ease with which Eris touched him. Eris did not touch other people very often… at all. The Drifter’s reaction to it was almost more interesting. He looked up at Eris with a delighted half-smile on his face as she went by and then, cat-like, flowed out of his chair to follow her.

Crow was right. His entire body language changed.

Have you seen the way he looks at her?

Neither one made a sound as they moved. Two shadows, visible for now, but able to disappear at a moment’s notice without a trace.

Ikora’s eyebrows raised even higher as she watched the Drifter slide his fingertips into Eris’ hand as they walked. There was no awkwardness there from either of them. Eris seemed completely at ease with this physicality. It was a very small gesture but the weight of it, the resonance, to Ikora was… profound.

On the one hand, Drifter was clearly showing off. Ikora half expected him to stick his tongue out at her. But on the other hand, what he was showing off was not just that Eris was letting him touch her, affectionately, in front of Ikora, but also how happy it made her.

Eris stopped and turned back to face Ikora in the doorway. The Drifter, now ahead of her, paused mid step and pivoted, leaning his back on the wall outside of Ikora’s office, out of sight, still holding Eris’ hand.

“I will provide you with the report I owe you upon our return,” Eris said.

Ikora could not help but smile as she watched them. “I… look forward to it. Enjoy your vacation.”

Eris smiled back playfully over the soulfire of her Ahamkara bone.

“I shall,” she said quietly before turning and pulling the Drifter along with her down the hall.

Ikora found herself once more staring at an empty doorway. But, this time, instead of frustration and analysis, picking apart an interaction for clues to what had actually happened in the subtext of a conversation, she found herself replaying over and over in her mind the genuinely loving way the two of them had touched each other in front of her, and, especially, Eris’ playful smile.

When was the last time she had seen that sort of smile on Eris’ face? Ikora couldn’t remember. It was so rare Eris smiled at all, at least, it had been. She was smiling a lot more since her triumph over the hive, but what Ikora had just witnessed was not mere contentment, this was mischievous, and filled with… delight.

Ikora closed her eyes, relief, happiness and gratitude washing over her. Whatever dislike and distrust she had toward the Drifter… as long as he was making Eris smile like that, then he was right, they should, and… would… be friends.

.

There is, indeed, an entire Eris & Drifter camping trip on Ao3 (with bonus Crow appearance, and combat!) if at any point you wish to enjoy it. It includes some happy fun sexy times, but I've set up skip links so you can bypass them if that is not to your taste.

[s-creations]

Hues Chapter 3: Mush-Fever

Mario forgets. Just because they're in a new place…doesn't mean old problems disappear.

Fandom: Super Mario & Releated Fandoms Rating: Teen and UP Audiences Relationship: Mario & Luigi (Nintendo), Wario & Mario (Nintendo), Waluigi & Mario (Nintendo), Mario/Princess Peach (Nintendo) Additional Tags: Mario needs help, Luigi's not feeling great, Wario and Waluigi are not overly great with the whole 'comforting' thing.

‘Top story this morning: we’ve officially entered into Mush-Fever season. A few reports are already coming in of Toad’s being checked in. Medical professionals are warning that this season’s gonna be a rough one. It’s advised that you keep an eye out for early symptoms and call your doctor immediately if you suspect someone’s sick. 

Early symptoms are: 

High Fever

Extreme Fatigue/Constantly Sleeping

Loss of Appetite

If someone starts sprouting abnormal growths, call it in immediately. Better to be safe than sorry.’

Mario let out a wide yawn as he waited for the coffee to finish brewing. Barely taking in the news report that was on the television. Really just wanting background noise while he tried to wake up. 

Normally, Luigi would be up and about before Mario. But everyone was still recovering from King Boo’s attack a few weeks prior. And if everyone else was still shaken just dealing with the Ecto-Ghosts, Mario couldn’t even begin to imagine how Luigi felt. 

So, if Luigi wanted to lie in bed, Mario was going to let his little brother sleep for as long as he needed. Left to battle through his morning slog alone

Mario perked up when the coffee announced it was finished. Pouring the wonderful caffeine into a red mug, topping it off with milk and sugar before shuffling into the living room. Nursing his drink as he watched the screen flash before him. Still not really taking in the information that was being presented.

A familiar chill fell over Mario. Giving him ample warning before Polterpup phased through the ceiling. Who let out a small whine as they sat next to Mario. 

“Hey doggie, you sleep well last night? …Do ghosts sleep?” Mario frowned softly in thought as Polterpup nudged his arm, whining again, “What’s up pup?”

The special pup jumped from the couch. Turning back to the human, letting out a bark before pointing towards the stairs. Still confused but realizing that something was wrong, Mario was up. 

“Alright, what’s going on?” Mario’s eyes followed Polterpup as they floated up the stairs. Soon close behind, finding said pup now sitting outside of Luigi’s room. Polterpup nervously tapped the ground as Mario walked closer. The hero gently knocked on said door.

“Hey, Luigi, you doing okay? Polterpup came down to get me and they seemed really upset about something. …Luigi? …I hope you’re decent, cuz I’m coming in.”

“Oh, hey, you’re still asleep? You’re sleeping the day away! Come on, how about we get started, yeah? …Luigi? You need to get up.”

“Lu?”

“Weegee?”

Even with the mask that was covering the lower half of his face, it was clear that Luigi was in pain. Skin pale, breathing harsh and shallow, eyes screwed up in pain, hand clutching desperately to the sheet covering him. Numerous Toads, masks tied around their heads to cover their mouths, were rushing around. Not just focusing on Luigi, but also the other patients resting in the beds. Occasionally, a Toad would pluck off a few green mushrooms from Luigi’s skin. The human wincing every time his skin was pulled.

Mario could only watch from the wide window. Stuck in the hallway as his eyes remained on his brother’s tense form. Hand pressed against the cold glass, feeling as if he was about to break. 

He couldn’t do this again.

Not again.

“He’ll be okay,” Peach kept her voice even, knowing how hard this was for Mario. A small smile on her face in an attempt to offer comfort. “Luigi has the best people looking after him. This is a common illness, it happens every year. There’s nothing to worry about.”

The last sentence caused more damage than help. Mario reached up to pull his cap down over his eyes. The hand pressed against the window turning into a fist. 

“Mario-”

“Common doesn’t mean non-deadly,” Mario choked out. 

“Luigi will be fine.”

“You can’t promise that. Not…Not with how he is…”

Peach bit her lip, “Why don’t we go and-”

“I can’t leave him.”

“...You can’t do anything here, this isn’t helping you or Luigi.”

“Don’t!” Mario pulled away, eyes blazing, “Don’t…say that. You don’t understand, you can’t understand… Just leave me alone.”

He marched over to the bench located on the opposite side of the hallway. Eyes going back to the window, even if he couldn’t see Luigi anymore. Remaining tight as he stared the pane of glass down. Peach remained frozen for a few moments before nodding. 

“Very well… If you need anything, I believe it would be best for you to find a Toad. They’ll be able to help you find what you need.” And with that, she turned. The clicks of her heels soon gave way to silence, leaving Mario to these thoughts.. 

As the silence settled in, so did Mario’s realization as to what he’d done. He let out a low curse before throwing his hat onto the ground in frustration. Digging his fingers into his hair. Vision blurring. Hoping the external pain would drown out the internal pain. 

It didn’t.

Letting out a heavy puff of breath, Mario sat back up. Leaning against the wall while furiously rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palms. Sitting as such before picking his hat back up, shoved it back onto his head. Uncaring that it now lay lopsided on his head.

Eyes flickering back onto the window, his heart sank further. Knowing Luigi lay just on the other side. Out of reach for him to help.

The disgusting feeling in his stomach seemed to grow. 

“Excuse me.”

A green-capped Toad jumped hearing the new voice. Peering up to see the Kingdom’s hero. Who looked a little worse for wear. “Oh, hello Mario! What can I help you with?”

“I don’t suppose you have a phone I could borrow?”

_____________________________

Wario and Waluigi barely gave notice to the passing glances sent their way as they power walked down the castle halls. Fully focused on their goal. Practically skidding to a halt upon their last turn. They cautiously peered around the corner to find Mario sitting on the bench. Staring at the ground, hat in his hand, looking wilted.

“Don’t say anything stupid,” Wario whispered to his brother. 

“You’re one to talk.”

“You threw him into the lake last time he was like this.”

“He deserved it.”

“Just…don’t, okay.”

“Whatever.”

Neutral ground decided upon, they slowly walked forward. Mario barely flinched as Wario claimed a seat next to him. Waluigi deciding to stand by the window instead, looking into the medical wing. His frown seemed to deepen upon finding the state Luigi was in. 

“You rang?” Wario teased with a smirk. Only to falter when Mario didn’t respond. “...Hey, Luigi’s tough, he’ll be fine.”

“People get this illness every year. It’s more annoying than anything,” Waluigi added, “Greenie will be sleepy for a while after this. But otherwise, he’ll be fine.”

“Weegee’s not like other people…” Mario mumbled weakly. 

The older two exchanged glances. Wario replied with, “How about we go stretch our legs, yeah? Get some fresh air. I don’t think sitting in a dingy hallway is doing you much good.”

“Get away from here for a while.” said Waluigi.

Mario wasn’t given a chance to argue back. Wario already wrapping his arm around the younger’s shoulder and leading him away. The view to the medical window blocked by Waluigi. Who gave a ‘Don’t even try it’ look when the hero turned back. Mario frowned but didn’t say anything, merely faced forward again. 

The hero winced as he was brought out into the sunlight. Hating how bright the world was compared to his dark mood.

“You’re not taking me back to the lake, are you?” Mario mumbled out.

“No…but that does beg the question of what we are going to do.” Wario answered.

Waluigi let out a heavy sigh as he took the lead. “Thank Grambi one of us has a brain.”

“Hey now-”

“Don’t even argue with me. You know I’m right.”

“Yeah, maybe. But you don’t have to be rude about it.”

“Yes I do. It’s part of my charming personality.”

“You call that charm?”

“Far better than what your skills are.”

Mario couldn’t hold back a smile as he listened to them argue. Or, he supposed, their version of brotherly banter. 

Entering the town proper, the group of three strolled through the main shopping district. Wario mainly focused on the number of food stalls, which didn’t seem to bother Waluigi all that much. Mario quietly noted that a few were pieces that he’d tried and liked before while others were very new to his rather limited palette.  

It was hard to tell what was safe for a human to eat. But there hadn’t been any scares yet.

Wario and Waluigi were eventually carrying a number of bags in each arm.. Mario was still confused as to what they were planning. But listened with interest as the brother’s conversations turned from food selection to childhood stories as each choice seemed to bring up a new memory.

Where they’d gone to school and subsequently expelled from. Where their first business was. Both legal and ‘entrepreneurial’ related. Where they would meet up with Peach when the princess would sneak out from the castle for a break.

One of those places was a familiar one. Mario mentally commented that it was the same tree they’d taken Peach to on their first outing as a full group. He watched from the truck of said tree as the other two set up their small buffet. The hero feeling a small flicker of warmth enter his chest.

“...Is this a date?” Mario smirked at his question. 

Waluigi let out a snort while Wario rolled his eyes. The oldest walked over to Mario to ruffle the hero’s hair. “As if you could afford us. Come on, you got some new things to try.”

Even with the worry weighing heavily in his stomach, Mario felt himself begin to relax. Starting to laugh more at the brother’s jokes and antics. Absolutely thrilled by the new things he was trying. Happy to have a moment when his mind wasn’t focused on the stress.

The afternoon cooled out to a calm evening. Mario and Wario leaning against the tree as they watched Waluigi, who had been pulled into a game by a group of younger Toads. All clearly enamored by the long legged creature that just towered over them and who could casually kick the ball around. It was a few minutes into their next round when Wario broke the quiet.

“So, how are you feeling?”

The uncomfortable feeling settled back into Mario’s stomach. But it wasn’t as heavy as it had been just that morning.

He shifted to pull his knees to his chest, arms crossed over them. Pausing to really think about the question and answer with, “...Better, I guess.”

“Yeah? Listen, I know this is all still new and a little…scary. You two are finding something new thrown at your feet practically every day. Even your days off don’t feel that fulfilling. But we were saying those things to make you feel better. Luigi will be fine.”

The hero let out a low hum in acknowledgement. 

Wario frowned softly. “Do you believe me?”

“I mean…” Mario let out a heavy sigh, “I get it. We’re in a place that’s aware of what the problem is and how to help because they’ve seen it before. It’s common.”

“...But.”

“But no one’s been there when Luigi was fighting for his life. I told you before…Luigi was really sick when we were younger.” 

“Oh, yeah,” Wario nodded slowly, “Bad immune system, right?”

“Yeah, bad enough to…to almost die a few times.”

“Wait, what? You said he was cared for and got better, what do you mean he almost died?”

“I said he got better, but he was always teetering on the edge,” Mario sighed softly, “There were a lot of scares growing up. I had my fill of watching Luigi through glass when we were back on Earth. You can say that this Mush-Fever is common, that everyone gets it. But Luigi’s been taken down by the cold too many times to make anything ‘common’ seem safe.”

“A cold?”

“Um…I’m not really sure how to say this… It’s just Earth’s common illness. That doesn’t mean Luigi could fight it off like anyone else.”

“But…he’s doing better now?” Wario asked slowly.

“I mean, yeah…”

“I have a feeling you’re not telling me the whole story.”

Mario frowned softly. “Our parents were really worried about Luigi growing up. Even after the doctors told them Luigi would be fine. It was just a scary start, nothing to worry about. Except every time he was sick, he found himself in the hospital. Going outside was a gamble. I felt that…if I wasn’t careful, something small could kill him.”

“I made a promise when I was younger that I would keep Luigi safe, no matter what. That I would never, ever, see him again behind a window. I thought…I thought I was doing fine and then…”

Breathing shaky, Mario rubbed his eyes furiously, attempting to hide his tears. But Wario saw right through it. Wrapping an arm around the other tightly so Mario could lean against him. 

“Just let it out, you’re okay,” Wario mumbled, “You’re okay.” 

Despite Wario’s words, Mario pulled himself together quickly. Sniffing softly as he pulled away. “I can’t let anything happen to him. I’ll do anything to keep him alive…even if I can’t be.”

“You’re not serious…” Wario whispered, swallowing weakly, insides turning to ice.

“If it means Luigi’s safe, I’d happily trade my life for his.”

Wario’s eyes looked up to Waluigi. Who was now showing off how far he could kick the balls the kid Toads were playing with. “Yeah…I get it. But still, you know you have us, right?

“I know… I still feel weird asking for it.”

There was a painful stab to the gut hearing that. Wario shifting nervously, “...Take it from me, asking for help isn't that bad of a thing. Besides, I thought you were past this? You came to me to talk about your relationship with Peach.”

“I can’t ‘fix’ myself overnight. It’s still a struggle.”

“Fair.”

Mario let out a choked gasp as he was pulled into a loose headlock, “Hey!”

Wario didn’t miss the laugh that escaped the hero. “Look, if you can come to me for help, then you can go to Peach. She’d probably be the better person to go to, honestly.”

“If she takes my apology.”

“That bad?”

“Oof, that’s unfortunate. But she’s taken mine, she’ll take yours.”

“You’re not dating her.”

“...You’d better have a good plan in place.”

“Oh, thanks! What welcoming words you’ve offered me just make me feel so happy.”

Wario couldn’t hold back his laughter as Mario rolled his eyes.

_____________________________

Peach let out a relieved sigh as she was given a thumbs up from the Toads inside the medical wing. Giving a small wave as her reply. Merely happy to see the patients inside looked far more relaxed than from that same morning.

Luigi appeared to finally be resting peacefully. A comforting red returning to his cheeks.

A cleared throat pulled her attention away from the window. Finding a sheepish looking Mario standing beside her. 

“Hey…”

“Hello. You’ll be happy to know Luigi is past the worst of it and is on the path to a good recovery.”

Mario perked up at that. Quickly stepping closer to the window. Letting out a sigh of relief seeing Luigi’s calm and sleeping form. “Thank you for looking after him…and, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you this morning.”

Peach offered a sympathetic smile. Letting out a slow breath before saying, “My mother died of an illness that no one knew the origins of when I was just barely a teen.”

She could see from the corner of her eye that Mario flinched. The human was clearly scrambling to figure out what to say next until Peach gently took his head. 

“I’m not looking for an apology. This morning was not good for you and you were not in a…good place, emotionally. My comments this morning were not well placed, and for that I apologize. I didn’t want to hear warm regards and standard pleasantries when she was on her deathbed. I’m sure you had your fair share growing up as well. It’s never fun to be the one that has to watch and wait.”

“...I’m sorry for your loss.” Mario eventually said. Flushing softly when Peach placed a gentle kiss on his temple. 

“It’s alright, you didn’t know.”

“I am still sorry for this morning. I…forget that, just because we’re someplace new, not all of our old life was left behind. Wario was right when he said Luigi was tough. He’s been through a lot over the past few months and I guess that gave me a false sense of comfort. Because…I thought something like an illness couldn’t take him down again.”

“Even with your titles and what you’ve both been able to accomplish, that doesn’t make you invincible. We’ll just be better prepared for next year to make sure this doesn’t happen again.”

Mario smiles softly, “Yeah…next year.”

“Now, with that all out of the way, would you like to see Luigi?” Peach laughed softly as Mario perked up in interest. 

“Really?”

“He’s not contagious anymore. There’s no issue.”  She couldn’t help but laugh again as Mario rushed in. Following in soon after, checking in on her citizens while watching as Mario pulled up a chair next to the bed. 

Mario grabbed onto Luigi’s hand and pressed it to his cheek, smiling softly. 

[radix-outpost]

I don't discuss it all that often, but I have a fondness for Mario; unlike stuff like Sonic or Megaman, though, I don't think I had any coherent AU ideas ("coherent" doing a lot of heavy lifting there). Time to fix that.

The basic conceit is "another adaptation the likes of which Nintendo would never sign off on today", influenced by SMB '93 (note Mario's, Luigi's, and Daisy's outfits) with some "The Great Mission to Rescue Princess Peach" thrown in (Haru's presence, the basis for the Toads).

Notes below:

Mario: the hero, as per usual. Worked as a freelance plumber alongside his brother Luigi in New Donk City until circumstances brought the two and Pauline to the Mushroom Kingdom. A jovial, compassionate guy who is also way too good at combat acrobatics for someone who claims that he was "just" a plumber.

Luigi: the lancer. As shaken as he is by this sudden turn of events, Luigi is doing his best to face everything head-on; unlike Mario, he prefers outmaneuvering his enemies over fighting them directly. Boyfriend of Pauline.

Peach: the runaway royal. Peach heads to the Metro Kingdom to try and get away from her wicked aunt, Queen Lena, only to dive right back into the Mushroom Kingdom to set things right. She attempts to pass herself off as a civilian to the Mario Bros., with limited success.

Prince Haru: the other runaway royal. After failing to reel in his mother Lena, Haru tracks down Peach and accidentally blows her cover. He's a skilled diplomat, but too fragile to provide anything out on the field except buffs. Takes a shine to Mario after the plumber rescues him from Bowser's forces.

Toadette: a Mushroomian and Peach's best buddy. She joins up with the heroes not long after they arrive in the Mushroom Kingdom, helping them to navigate the place after they (sans Haru) end up on Queen Lena's "wanted" list.

Daisy: the last descendant of the long-gone Sarasaland royal family. Daisy works as an archaeologist; her findings place her in Bowser's crosshairs, though he swiftly comes to regret sending minions after a woman who can punch Koopas into next week. Infatuated with Peach.

Pauline: a down-on-her-luck singer who was rooming with the Mario Bros. Just when it seemed like things couldn't get worse, this gorilla in a jaunty tie grabs her and legs it out of the Metro Kingdom--though not to kidnap her, as it turns out. Pauline is still a bit sore about that, though.

Yoshi: a member of the self-named species; this Yoshi may or may not be one of the Yoshis that the Mario Bros. faintly recall being surrounded by as very young children. He's on the runty side and thus too small for anyone but Toadette to ride, but he helps out where he can.

--

Other stuff:

As you might've noticed, I'm not going with the canon pairings here, because I like making things harder on myself doing things different. This AU concept has Mario/Haru, Peach/Daisy, and Luigi/Pauline.

Haru's design changed a lot between OVA and AU; my main concern was figuring out a colour palette that worked. The skirt was influenced by some art of CrystalCrowned. Story-wise, Haru's no longer the prince of the Flower Kingdom (especially not when Wonder introduced its own take), nor betrothed to Peach.

Peach's mother here was a nun, Sister Hildy; the King outlived her by about ten years before succumbing to illness. The Mushroom Kingdom's weird succession laws allowed Lena to take the throne before Peach or Haru.

Yes, that's Lena from SMB '93.

I like modern Yoshi well enough, but trying to figure out how their sphere-snouts work is an exercise best left to someone else. This Yoshi is based on older artwork.

[tigers-eyes-26]

Destiny

Before his nonna died she gave everyone in the family advice. Some of it was good some of it sounded like the crazy ramblings of an old ill woman.  The advice his nonna gave to Luigi was “Marry a girl whose name starts with D.” He was a little disappointed but brushed it off as the illness getting to her head. He wrote the “advice” in his journal and didn’t think about it. That was until he became interested in girls.

None took notice of him until after he grew his mustache in the last years of high school. Luigi dated Destiny Del Vecchio in high school. It was his first date, first girlfriend. He remembered what his nonna said and thought they were destined to be. Literally Destiny.

They broke up before she headed off to college in another state. He was going to the local trade school. She told him maybe they would be able to meet up after collage. “You never know what could happen.” They moved on with their lives, but sometimes he would have dreams that they would be married and live in some apartment somewhere.

After the whole magic world debacle. She did call him. She saw the newspapers and her parents told her about the crazy day that a lava filled monolith broke through the road with a fire breathing dragon turtle. The date was ok, but they didn’t click. They shook hands and bid each other goodbye. He stopped having dreams about her after that.

Luigi saw the relationship between the Princess and his brother blossom. He was so happy for them. It was cute seeing them become flustered. He always knew princesses would like Mario. Every Sunday they would have family dinner in Brooklyn. Their family would tease Mario about the Princess. Luigi would look at his uncle Arthur and his wife Marie and their kid. He kinda wanted that for himself. Eventually.

During the week he looked around him. They worked and lived among toads. He loved the toads but if he was going to eventually find a wife, he would have to spend some of his time elsewhere. He told Mario he would be spending his Saturdays back in Brooklyn. He asked his family to find some nice girls he could go on dates with. They happily did. He went on dates every Saturday. He clicked with none of them. His life was just too different for them to accept. He was happy with his life and living in the Mushroom Kingdom. After a year of failed dates, He decided he would put a pin in dating for a while. He went back to only going to Brooklyn on Sundays.

Luigi continued on with his life. He didn’t need to rush things; he didn’t need to force things. One day Princess Peach called him, Toad, and Mario to go investigate the desert. The Kongs wanted to build a racetrack there, but Peach wanted to make sure they wouldn’t be messing up a tribe or ecosystem that lived there. She also wanted them to investigate if there was anything from the earth that showed up in the desert and assess if it was safe.

****

They surprisingly met up with DK while in the desert. “The princess didn’t trust the Kongs to do their own research before they built a track?” The gorilla started. Mario and Toad wouldn’t stand for anyone to bad mouth the princess. Luigi backed away from the impending fight. Only to be poked in the back. He turned to see something tall in an orange hooded poncho and a shy guy mask, pointing a spear at him. Luigi yelped, alerting the others that something was wrong. Suddenly cactus-like balls burst from the sand creating a cage around the group.

“Why are you here?” The tall shy guy demanded. It sounded like a girl. Luigi looked down out of nervous habit. Out of the bottom of the poncho were some long human-like legs. Mario opened his mouth to answer but DK got to it first. “It’s none of your business!”

 Mario glared at DK. “Don’t say that!”

“WHY NOT! IT isn’t.”

“It clearly is!”

“How do we know?”

“CHE!” Mario threw his arms up in the air. Another argument started between the two, Toad jumped in to defend his best friend.

The figure ignored the squabble and poked Luigi again. “Answer!” she demanded.

He put his arms up in surrender. “W-we were seeing if we could build a kart racetrack here.”

“You can’t. Now go home.” She lifted her spear.

“Wait! W-we need to tell our higher ups why?”

“Because I said so!”

“W-well who are you?”

She huffed, “I’m Daisy, I protect this neutral land from either side of your stupid war.”

“There isn’t any war anymore. Bowser has been defeated.”

The masked lady looked at the still flaming argument. “Are the Kongs and the Mushroom Kingdom going to war over this land?”

“Oh, heheh No we are on good terms, it’s just those two” He pointed to his brother and DK, “have some kind of rivalry going on. And Toad just…” he flipped his hands around trying to find the right word “...likes to jump in whenever he can.”

“They are annoying.” She stated.

“Yeah well, family can’t live with them can’t live without them.” She gave a snort. Did he really make her just laugh? He continued to talk. “So…you some kind of shy guy?”

“No.” her defenses raised back up.

“I haven’t seen anything like you before. Me and my brother here, are kinda new to this world.”

“….”

He rubbed the back of his head at the silence. “…Well, I guess I have to break up their fight before they start throwing punches. Hehe…” He turned around. A whistle rang out; the Pokeys dug themselves back into the ground. The yelling from Mario and DK stopped. Mario smiled at his brother, “What didja do Lu?”

He shrugged, “Just talked I guess.”

The Kongs begrudgingly accepted it was neutral ground and stopped their construction plan. Luigi and Mario told Peach that they may have encountered another female human in the desert. This excited Peach. She suggested that they all go to try to meet her again.

*****

They did meet her again. “Go away!” Daisy pointed her spear at them. “I told you we don’t want to be on anyone’s side!”

Peach stood up taller. “Who is we?”

“Like that gorilla said, ‘None of your Business.’” She turned to leave. “Now never come back!”

“Wait! Are you human?” Daisy paused her retreat; Peach continued. “I’ve lived here my whole life and I have never seen a shy guy with such long limbs.”

She gave a sign and lifted the mask. A tawny freckled face framed by auburn hair was drawn in a scowl. “You’re right I’m human, what do you want a prize?” She sniped out and turned again to walk away.

“Don’t go!” Peach reached out. “I need your help!”

Daisy swiveled around. “With What!? You’re a princess with a kingdom, why do you need my help!?”

“I need to know about people like me… were you born here?”

“Might as well be.” Her tone clipped.

 “Are… are there more of us?”

“No…” She quietly replied.

“D-did there use to be?” This time Luigi spoke up. He was sensing the sadness radiating off the woman.

She slid the mask back on and jumped up on a rock and ran away.

That night the group of adventurers ate around the fire. Luigi had cooked, he would have liked a full kitchen, but he had been learning from Toad how to cook over a campfire with little supplies. They were all surprised when Daisy stepped into the fire light. She sat down and curled her knees up to her face. The three friends exchanged looks. Luigi offered her some food.

She took it. The food smelled delicious even from miles away. She took a small bite. It was delicious!  She quickly finished what was on the plate. “Where did you learn to cook!”

Luigi smiled brightly, “from my Mama!”

Her eyebrows flattened at the revelation. “You have a mom?”

“Yeah! Don’t you?” Luigi slapped a hand over his mouth. What an insensitive question! “I-I’m S-soorry” he stammered out.

She waved away his apology. “No, this is why I came. I’m ready to talk about what happened. I figured that once I’m done sharing you can go away and stop bothering me.” She took a deep breath.

Daisy’s mom hadn’t survived giving birth to her. Her dad couldn’t take care of her alone. He was on his way to give her to nuns to raise. He took a shortcut through a construction site at night and ended up falling into a hole. While trying to find his way out he found a green pipe, he sat down on the edge and ended up in a shy guy tribe in the great desert. The tribe took in anyone who didn’t want to be forced into Bowsers army. Her father got sick, and no one knew how to help him. He died when she was 16.  

She finished her story and stared at the fire. Peach got up and sat next to her. She placed a hand on Daisy’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

Daisy just nodded. She took slow breaths trying not to cry around strangers. Luigi got up and sat on the other side of Daisy. He gave her a hug; she was surprised but didn’t shove him away.

*******

They had set up a correspondence between Daisy and Peach. They would talk to each other, Peach would visit her, they would challenge each other in many feats, and eventually Daisy would come to visit Peach. Luigi would make sure he was around when Daisy visited.

He got the courage, from the many pep-talks from Mario, to ask her if he could start writing her letters. She agreed. They wrote, talked, they would go on kart rides, compete with each other, and sometimes just go on walks together. Luigi found himself falling for her. She was loud, active, tough and spunky. He loved the energy she brought to his life. Like his brother she encouraged him to be all that he could be.

She wasn’t weirded out by the duo world living. She missed her family, so she encouraged him to visit them often and appreciate them. When Daisy did come over for Sunday dinners she could be as boisterous as the rest of his family. The brother’s uncles were impressed by her.

He tried to help her find her family on Earth. He looked through newspapers and missing persons reports. He even submitted her DNA to try to find any close relatives. It turned out her grandparents were dead, and she had an uncle and aunt who died in 9/11. Daisy just shrugged “I was never really apart of this world. I don’t even know how I would react if I could meet my family from earth…” They decided to stop looking for her relatives.

One Sunday Luigi was feeling nostalgic. He got out old photos and journals to show to Daisy. As he was reading over some of his old journal entries to see what he could share, he found what he had written just after his nonna died. “Marry a girl whose name starts with D.” He smiled. Maybe he would after all.

------------

Author Note: After I broke up with my high school boyfriend I would have dreams about him all the time! One day during winter break when I was visiting my home town we went on one final date together and that was just what my brain needed to stop dreaming of him. Then I went back to university and meet my now husband.

I'm making fanfiction of the small throw away lines in the Mario move that made me think.

-------

[federthenotsogreat]

hi!! ur m&l iceberg appeared on my dash, and i mmmight wanna make a premiere video abt it someday?? (if i'm able 2 get the right tools 4 the job kdkdjndg i wanna do game commentary and maybe reviews) but like!! do u mind explaining each of the points in crude detail?? i already know abt most of them as well, but just 2 be sure!! ty :D

I'm HONORED you'd consider making a video about my chart! However, I had some problems with answering this as Tumblr would frequently delete all of my progress. I assume this is because of the answer simply being too long, which is why I'll try to tackle three layers at a time. I will add more parts of the explanation with every reblog. I'm truly sorry but this is the only option.

Just as a little refresher, here's the full chart! Explanations are under the cut because this is gonna be long >:)

Alright let's get into this!

Layers 1 - 3:

Layer 1

-Seven games:

In total there's seven games in the Mario and Luigi series, five original titles (Superstar Saga, Partners In Time, Bowser's Inside Story, Dream Team, Paper Jam) and two remakes (Superstar Saga + Bowser's Minions, Bowser's Inside Story + Bowser Junior's Journey)

-Striped socks:

On the original artworks for the Mario and Luigi games, Luigi is seen wearing striped socks, something unique to this series. However, the socks haven't shown up in official artwork since Dream Team.

-Luigi running gag:

In the Mario and Luigi games there exists a common running gag that consists of Luigi being underestimated or completely forgotten by other characters. They'll often praise Mario while then either insulting or downplaying Luigi.

-Giant battles:

In Bowser's Inside Story and Dream Team there exists a form of battles known as "giant battles", during which Bowser (in BIS) and Luigi (in DT) turn massive to face off against giant enemies. The player has to flip their DS/3DS horizontally and dodge/fire off attacks by tapping the touch screen. In Paper Jam, there's also a form of battles called "papercraft battles" in which the player controls giant paper figurines, looking similar to the game's characters.

-Superstar Saga on Switch:

On February 8th 2023, Nintendo announced the port of several GBA games to Nintendo Switch Online, with Mario and Luigi: Superstar Saga being one of them. Superstar Saga is currently the only title to be playable on Switch.

Layer 2

-Fawful in PIT:

In PIT there exists an optional area right underneath Peach's castle, in which you can observe a mysterious hooded figure. If you follow them with Baby Mario and Baby Luigi, the person reveals himself to be Fawful, who quickly starts telling the babies about his plan for revenge. He starts getting more and more emotional during his speech, but tells the babies that there's no need to worry about him. The player can then pay Fawful with beans in exchange for rare badges. This scene foreshadowes the entirety of Bowser's Inside Story, in which Fawful takes over the Mushroom kingdom, making his plan reality.

-The blorbs:

The blorbs are an illness that plagues the Mushroom Kingdom during the events of Bowser's Inside Story. If a Toad consumes a so called "Blorb Mushroom" they will get infected with the disease, causing their bodies to grow large and round, immobilizing them. The blorbs play an important role in the plot, as the illness is an important part of Fawfuls plan to take over the Mushroom Kingdom. During the end of the game, Dr. Toadley manages to get rid the blorbs, using the Miracle Cure.

-Luisley:

Luisley is the name of a popular ship in the M&L community. It is based on the idea of Luigi and Prince Peasley being in a romantic relationship. The game itself seems to heavily support this idea, as Peasley is often seen paying special attention to Luigi, and Luigi blushing when meeting the prince. This Tumblr post explains it in more detail.

-Gold beanie:

In Superstar Saga and Dream Team you can encounter enemies called Beanies. They're basically just green beans with and evil grin and tiny feet, and they're pretty easy to take down. However there exists a rare golden variant of these enemies, which have a high chance of fleeing every turn. Upon beating one, the playing receives a high amount of experience points as a reward.

-Alphadream filing for bankruptcy:

On October 1st, 2019, Alphadream, primarily known for their work on the Mario and Luigi series, filed for bankruptcy. This was most likely due to high development costs and bad revenue in return. What got the studio into that position in the first place probably were the bad sales of Superstar Saga's remake and Bowser Junior's Journey failing horrendously.

-No PIT remake:

While Superstar Saga and Bowser's Inside Story both received remakes, Partners In Time didn't get to enjoy that treatment. This was most likely due to Inside Story having better sales in comparison and Alphadream wanting to remake the most popular game in the series. However, them skipping the second installment and remaking the third game instead, still seems a bit odd.

-Shroobish:

Shroobish is the language spoken by the Shroobs in Partners In Time. It is written in a different alphabet and is totally indecipherable. The game does translate some words and sentences for the player, most notably the word destroy.

-Beanish and beanies are related species:

This is a popular theory created by fans that isn't mentioned in the game itself. The theory is based on the fact that Beanish and beanies share a lot of similarities, for example wide grins and green skin tone. The theory states that Beanish used to look similar to beanies, but evolved over time into what we know them as today.

Layer 3

-Cover art style change:

Superstar Saga as well as Partners in Time both have very detailed designs for their box art, while from Bowser's Inside Story onward the design is kept much simpler, just having a white background with the characters placed on top of it. It is important to note that the American version of Superstar Saga's remake uses the modern style, while the European version is a direct callback to the original's box art.

-Paper Jam hate:

Paper Jam is easily the least popular game in the series. This is due to the game's lack of original characters and story telling, which makes it stand out negatively when compared to the rest of the series. It had big potential, being a crossover with the Paper Mario series, but barley incorporated any of its elements, ending up as a rather boring M&L title, with Paper Mario as a playable character.

-Carrot minigame:

The carrot minigame is one of the many minigames present in Bowser's Inside Story and it's remake. Due to it's precise touch screen controls it is notoriously frustrating and difficult to beat, especially for younger players, slowly making it gain kind of a meme status amongst the community.

-Cacklebean:

Much like Luisley, Cacklebean is another popular ship in the M&L community, this time pairing Cackletta with Queen Bean. The idea is often backed up by Cackletta seemingly having a lot of knowledge about Beanbean Castle and its secrets, such as the security system surrounding the Beanstar. Queen Bean and the residents of the Beanbean Kingdom also never seem to mention Cackletta in any negative light whatsoever, often just insulting Fawful instead of her.

-Yoko Shimomura:

Yoko Shimomura is a Japanese composer primarily known for her work in video games, including the Mario and Luigi series. She also composed for games such as Super Mario RPG: Legend Of The Seven Starts and Kingdom Hearts.

-Headcanons:

This is a more community focused entry. Fans of the Mario and Luigi series often have a lot of different headcanons, some just adding more depth to certain characters while others change the story in its entirety. Since everyone's headcanons are different, everyone perceives the games differently and every fan stands out in their own unique and special way. Some popular headcanons include Cackletta being Fawfuls adoptive mother, Popple and Fawful being brothers or Peasley being gay.

-SSS difficulty spike:

The original version of Superstar Saga is kind of notorious for having a really weird difficulty spike with the game being pretty easy over all but then suddenly raising the difficulty out of nowhere before having it decrease again. Some examples of this are Wiggler and Trunkle going down in just a few hits while having much harder battles before and after them, Cackletta in Woohoo Hooniversity being a pretty tough challenge for this point of the game all while having the difficulty decrease again seconds later, and of course the final boss being absurdly hard and coming out of nowhere with the game refusing to prepare you for it at all.

-Popple is suffering from memory loss:

When encountering Popple in Dream Team, he does not recognize Mario and luigi at all, despite mentioning how he had trouble with people looking extremely similar back when he was still in the Beanbean Kingdom.

-Geno in the Fungitown arcade:

In Little Fungitown, the player will encounter Geno from Super Mario RPG while playing the Star 'Stache Smash minigame, where he will moderate the game and explain the rules. Geno is absent from the remake due to him not being owned by Nintendo.

[just-an-emily-existing]

❤️✨Their magic is bound to their souls. Their soul power allows them to summon their main weapon and manipulate their element like Thomas being able to lift the dirt and use them as platforms. Or Percy being able to create huge tornados.✨❤️

🧡✨They can also gain more power from objects containing their element, like Oliver being able to suck the electricity out of a lamp, or or Duck using the sun to “recharge”.✨🧡

💛✨When two of the same elemental engines are fighting together, their power increases very much like Oliver and Toad fighting an enemy together. Some engines have a hard time fighting together like Thomas and D10 because D10’s fire will usually burn Thomas’ vines but sometimes it can work like Duck’s light reflecting off of Mavis’ metal and blind an enemy.✨💛

💚✨On Halloween, Friday the 13th, Lunar Eclipse, and full moon the ghost engines, coaches and humans go into their living form and can be touched and actually feel things. All of this also goes for the fan kids too @the-annon-cult-leader XD!✨💚

💙✨The ghost engines and coaches’ powers are weakened and feral because they’re dead and have no flesh or real body to possess and let their power thrive, so, they need a bit more of protection and need to be more cautious so they don’t accidentally hurt others. They also have a hard time summoning their powers and their elemental nails are faded…✨💙

💜✨But speaking of the fan kids, they have both of their parents’ elemental powers like Jewel (Me and Dougie’s kid) having both his plasma powers and my Suit of Card powers. The same rules apply for the kids in having the flowers, teardrop, ring, ect. If the kids have kids with each other, then those kids (The Grandkids) will have all four elements. But only two will overpower the others, they’ll still have all four it’s just that two will be better than the other two like let’s say Jewel and Flynn (Thomas and Percy’s son) have a kid, then they’ll have all four but maybe they’ll be better with Plasma and Air. It’s all random really.✨💜

🩷✨Now with them as engines, they don’t have their drivers or firemen anymore because back in the 80’s Thomas was the first engine to discover that they could turn into humans and spread the word to the others. Then, one of the drivers figured out that the engines could gain full control of themselves, and like before, it was spread to the others and before anyone knew it, the engines were in full control of themselves and one by one, their drivers and firemen retired, leaving the engines to think and do things for themselves. But some engines aren’t capable of doing this, mainly the mentally, physically ill, or engines who are just too rowdy who can’t/don’t want to be left alone.✨🩷

❤️✨The engines are now seen as people who do have rights and are able to marry, vote, go to jail, ect. The engines are able to marry humans but it isn’t as common so me and Dougie being a couple wasn’t too welcomed at first. Even though they may be able to turn into humans, they don't need to eat, drink, sleep. The girls don’t have periods and they don’t go through puberty like us humans. The closest things to engine puberty is like Henry getting his new boiler.✨❤️

🧡✨If the engines laugh really hard, like a wheeze kind of laugh, you might hear their horns/whistles.✨🧡

💛✨Now for having kids, I think the most logical (and somewhat pg) thing they can do is have some sort of magical blood ritual. The engines and coaches don’t have DNA to pass on to the carrier so they have to pray to Lady for her assistance. She'll prick the left ring finger of each lover and let the blood drip into a small glass vial while they’re asleep as to not give her identity away. She'll then sprinkle Gold Dust, an angel's laugh, a ray of the sun, a rose petal, and a slice of a rainbow and shake it up very well. Then, she pours it into the Lake of Life in her Magic Railway, allowing the child to come to life. She picks up the baby, dries them off, and swaddles them in a pink or blue blanket, as she drops them off in a basket in the front door of the parent's home. (The baby is in the house dw) and the next morning, the parents will find their new child, ready to start their life.✨💛

💚✨Lady is their Goddess. She gave life to the first object she saw which was her engine body in 1805. The Magic Railway is Train Heaven TM. It was only when the humans figured out how her magic worked, did they steal some from her and give life to the coaches, trucks, breakvans, ect. Lady fled from England to Russia, where no one knew who she was. There she met D10… (I’ll explain their story in more detail in a different post) ✨💚

[simmingnate]

Beverlee returned from work feeling giggly, and not because she was high-on-life, but because she had contracted some annoying bug which adds absolutely NOTHING to gameplay! 😩

With the extra simoleons Don brought to the household, Beverlee could finally buy a computer (locked in her room and kept away from the triplets, of course) with which she could order some medication. Ironically, her illness already seemed to be over 🙄

EXCUSE ME?! WHAT WAS IN THAT MEDICATION???? 😳

Beverlee has decided to take her fate into her own hands - and who am I to stand in the way?! Maybe she just wants to marry Don to rub it in Katrina's face, but whatever her motivation, I am FLOORED ☠️

DON?! YOU TOO?! The man-of-a-thousand-lovers?! Mr Non-Committal himself?! WHAT IS HAPPENING!!!

Don developed the cheerful trait and Beverlee took some mail-order drugs, and now everything has turned upside-down. This is all giving me an existential crisis 😵‍💫

WHATTTTTTTTTTTTT 😩

Well, congratulations, I guess. Who ever thought this would happen?! CERTAINLY NOT ME. As much as I try not to plan anything for the Beverlee Legacee, this wasn't even in my non-plan-plan.

At least they make a beautiful couple? 😬

Beverlee may be tripping on painkillers laced with psychedelic toad sweat, but she's also tripping on LURRRVE! She's realising she actually has some twisted love for Don! But oh… what's that? A looming sense of dread?

Here we go again! 🙃

XOXO Bevee Peps

[baldwinivmybeloved]

(মন্দ)⠀Charper VII , Jerusalem ⸺ Allishah x Baldwin IV

The king and the rose

Allishah woke up with a slight stretch, her body still feeling embraced by the warmth of Baldwin's embrace. Her eyes slowly opened, and the first image she saw was of Baldwin, looking at her with a mixture of tenderness and concern.

"Oh! What time is it? And what are we doing in this strange position? I don't remember casting a spell on me to turn a king into a pillow!" Allishah said with a playful smile, stretching her arms up and then to the sides, as if trying to adjust her body.

Baldwin gave a soft laugh, one that seemed bittersweet and full of affection. "I think your dream must have been very pleasant," He said, moving what hand he could to lightly stroke Allishah's hair.

"Pleasure? More like a nap in a fairy tale," Allishah replied with an amused tone of voice. "I only needed a dragon and a prince to complete the experience. But if you are the dragon, I hope you didn't throw fire at me while I was sleeping."

Baldwin couldn't help but laugh, his laugh echoing softly in the air. "No, no fire. Although I admit that your presence has made my day much brighter."

Allishah sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes. "What a relief! So I haven't turned you into a toad or anything. And here I was, getting ready to kiss a toad just in case." His tone was playful, and his eyes sparkled with a glint of mischief.

Baldwin watched, surprised and delighted by her energy. "So you're a fairy tale expert, huh?"

"A bit," Allishah said as she stretched, giving a small playful bow. "I have read my French stories, but I think that in real life I have lacked the details. Could you, perhaps, give me a lesson on how princes and dragons should behave?"

Baldwin leaned forward, his gaze amused and serene. "Well, in my experience, princes tend to be less interesting in real life. And dragons... well, I'm not sure what exists beyond the stories"

"What a disappointment!" Allishah exclaimed, in a dramatic tone. "I always thought meeting a dragon would be the greatest adventure. But if there are no dragons, I guess you'll have to settle for being the hero of my story."

Baldwin smiled, feeling a warmth in his heart that he hadn't experienced in a long time. "As long as there are no dragons in your story, I think I can fulfill that role."

Allishah stood, extending a hand toward Baldwin. "Well, in that case, how about you teach me how to ride a horse? I could use some real magic for my adventures."

Baldwin took Allishah's hand and helped her up. "I will be happy to be your guide in that. Although my riding ability is not as great as in the stories, I promise it will be a memorable experience."

As they headed towards the stables, the conversation continued filled with laughter and light comments. Allishah, with her playful and carefree attitude, had brought a spark of joy to Baldwin's life, helping him forget, if only for a moment, the burden of his illness.

The afternoon sun gilded the stables of Jerusalem, illuminating the scene with a warm, golden light. Allishah and Baldwin arrived at the stables, where the horses were waiting patiently. The air was filled with the earthy aroma of straw and animal sweat, and the sound of their soft snorting created a calm and peaceful atmosphere.

Allishah, her silver hair falling in soft waves over her shoulders, watched Baldwin with a curious and playful gaze. As he approached one of the horses, she slowly approached, her body moving with an almost ethereal grace.

"So, my noble king, how does the majesty of the stable feel?" Allishah asked in a flirtatious tone, her eyes shining with a mischievous light. "Or is it the aroma of straw that makes your heart beat faster?"

Baldwin smiled, although his face showed a mixture of amusement and shyness. "The stable has its own charm, although it is not the same as the golden halls of the palace."

Allishah leaned to the side, her hands resting on the stable railing as she watched Baldwin carefully. "Oh, but I think the stable has its own kind of magic. Maybe it's not the kind of magic you see in stories, but it's a magic that's in the little things." Her words were soft and seductive, each loaded with a hidden meaning.

Baldwin approached the horse and began to prepare the saddle. "I'm glad you find the magic in simple things. It's a good reminder that we don't always need grand gestures to find what we're looking for."

Allishah moved even closer, her proximity filling the air with palpable energy. "And what do you seek, O king?" he asked, his voice dropping to a seductive whisper. "A little excitement in the middle of your daily routine? Or maybe something more... personal?"

Baldwin looked up at her, feeling a surge of emotions he hadn't experienced in a long time. "I look for a lot of things, Allishah, but it's hard to find what you really need when you're caught up in expectations and responsibilities."

Allishah moved even closer, lightly touching Baldwin's arm in a gesture that seemed almost accidental. "Maybe what you need is someone to remind you what it's like to just be you. Not the king, but the person behind the crown. Don't you think?"

Baldwin turned to look directly at her, his eyes meeting hers with an unexpected intensity. "It's an...interesting idea. And perhaps something I've never considered in enough depth."

Allishah smiled, her expression mixing charm and defiance. "Well, if you ever need a reminder, I'll be here. Always ready to be that... lovely distraction that reminds you that life can be a little lighter, even in the midst of responsibilities."

She leaned slightly towards him, her lips curling into a playful smile as she gazed at him intently. "Tell me, when was the last time someone made you genuinely laugh, without worrying about your position or your duties?"

Baldwin felt caught between the warmth of Allishah's closeness and the awareness of his own fragility. "I can't remember a specific moment, but I guess sometimes laughter and joy come from the most unexpected places."

Allishah laughed softly, a sound that seemed to fill the space with vibrant energy. "Then let's consider it a little mission: to find those moments of unexpected joy. Maybe, just maybe, we can start with a horseback riding session full of laughter."

With a final look full of promise, Allishah walked away a little, turning to prepare to mount. Baldwin watched her, feeling a mixture of admiration and confusion, while his heart beat faster than he expected.

The sun continued its downward path, casting a golden light over the stables. The horses neighed softly and the air was filled with a fresh aroma, mixed with the perfume of the flowers that Allishah had collected to decorate the place. Baldwin and Allishah were ready to ride, both with slight anticipation in the air.

Allishah approached Baldwin, who was adjusting the saddle. His presence was a mix of curiosity and enthusiasm, his silver hair shining in the evening light. Baldwin, with his left hand still affected by leprosy, moved with restrained grace but with palpable determination.

"Ready to show me how to ride, my king?" Allishah asked, her voice a playful and seductive tune. She moved close to him, lightly touching his arm in a casual gesture, but full of intention.

Baldwin turned to her, with a kind but tired smile. "I'm ready, although I must warn you that my riding style is a little... different."

Allishah smiled, her excitement palpable. "I'm sure it will be fascinating. After all, every king has his own way of doing things, right?"

Baldwin mounted his horse carefully, moving with careful precision. Allishah watched him in admiration and then approached her own steed. As she mounted, a small stumble caused her to lose her balance momentarily. Baldwin quickly reached out to help her, his hands touching her waist in a way that was both protective and intimate.

"It looks like you need a little help," Baldwin said, his voice low and soft as he adjusted his position in the chair. His fingers slid over Allishah's waist, touching her with a warmth that contrasted the coldness of her illness.

Allishah felt a shiver run through her body, her cheeks blushing slightly. "I appreciate the help, my king. I don't want to seem clumsy on my first attempt." His voice had a hint of flirtation, mixed with a flash of vulnerability.

"Don't worry, we all have our moments," Baldwin responded with a smile, his hand resting briefly on her waist before gently withdrawing. "Let's try it together."

As they moved across the field, Allishah tried to stay close to Baldwin, her movements full of grace and curiosity. Every time Baldwin's horse moved, Allishah could feel the proximity of his body, a physical contact subtle but charged with a palpable connection.

"I must say that riding a horse with a king is quite an...exciting experience," Allishah commented with a mischievous smile. Her legs brushed against Baldwin's occasionally, and each contact seemed to increase the intensity of the atmosphere between them.

Baldwin, trying to maintain his concentration, responded in an amused tone. "And how would you describe that emotion? A mixture of danger and fascination?"

Allishah laughed softly, her laughter echoing in the air. "Something like that. It's like every moment is filled with unspoken promises and shared secrets." His eyes met Baldwin's, a mischievous glint in his gaze.

As they continued their walk, Allishah decided to move closer to Baldwin, her body leaning slightly towards him. The brush of her legs against his was constant, and the proximity seemed to fill the air with a subtle tension.

"I think I need you to teach me some more tricks," Allishah said, her voice low and heavy with intent. "To ensure that I am not only an apprentice, but also an expert in... making horses and kings feel at their best."

Baldwin felt a slight blush come to his cheeks, but his smile widened as he responded. "I'm sure you'll do great. And maybe, just maybe, I'll learn something new in the process."

They both continued their ride, each movement on the horse bringing their bodies even closer, each brush and each touch filling the air with a mixture of emotions and expectations. The sun was slowly setting, bathing the field in a golden glow that seemed to accentuate the special connection that had formed between them.

The afternoon slowly faded, and the walk became a moment of shared intimacy, a reminder that despite responsibilities and expectations, there were small moments of connection and understanding that could brighten even the darkest days.

Night had fallen over Jerusalem, and the stable had become a quiet place, safe from the lights and bustle of the castle. Shadows danced softly on the walls as the light from the oil lamps cast a warm glow on the horses. The air was thick with the scent of leather and straw, and the occasional murmur of animals created an intimate and serene atmosphere.

Allishah, still mounted on her horse, had realized that the evening light had created an atmosphere conducive to their games and pranks. He glanced at Baldwin, who was busy adjusting his saddle with admirable patience, and a playful smile spread across his lips.

"My king," Allishah began with a voice laden with a playful tone, "Don't you think horseback riding should be more... exciting?"

Baldwin turned to her, his eyes shining with a mix of curiosity and amusement. "And how do you imagine it could be more exciting, Allishah?" His tone was soft, but there was a tinge of expectation in his words.

Allishah moved a little closer to Baldwin, her movements deliberately sensual. She leaned towards him, her body almost touching his, and whispered, "Maybe you could teach me some special tricks. After all, I'm down to learn in the most fun way possible."

The air grew thicker with the tension Allishah was creating. Baldwin, tried to maintain his composure as he realized Allishah's advances. Her closeness was a constant challenge, and he tried to focus on the ride rather than the playful teasing she offered.

"Hmm, do you think a special trick might be...interesting?" Baldwin asked, his voice shaking slightly. He tried to hide his growing fascination as he prepared to mount.

Allishah moved with an air of defiance, her gaze fixed on Baldwin. "Maybe something that will not only teach me how to ride better, but also show me why King Baldwin has such a unique style." His hand lightly brushed Baldwin's arm, and his fingers paused briefly in a gesture that was both provocative and intimate.

"Maybe," Baldwin responded, his voice low and heavy with a mixture of desire and contention, "You should show me how willing you are to learn."

Allishah laughed softly, her laugh light and mischievous. "Oh, I'm more than willing. What kind of learning do you think I prefer? Sometimes a little fun makes everything more interesting."

Baldwin looked at Allishah with a mixture of surprise and admiration. Her provocative attitude was a constant challenge, and he felt swept up in the intrigue and attraction she aroused in him.

"I understand," Baldwin said as he adjusted his mount. "And you may find that learning is much more enjoyable when there is a spark of fun involved."

Allishah leaned closer, her lips almost touching Baldwin's ear as she murmured, "I'm sure the learning will be... unforgettable."

As they prepared to mount, the proximity between them became even more palpable. Allishah, with an air of playful defiance, made sure her body was in close contact with Baldwin's, her movements subtle but charged with intent.

"Come on, my king," Allishah said with a mischievous smile. "Demonstrate what it's like to ride with style and... maybe also show me how to handle a little provocation in the process."

Baldwin, despite his effort to stay focused, couldn't help but feel trapped by the intensity of Allishah's provocation. The walk became a dance of closeness and tension, each movement and each touch between them charged with an energy that could not be ignored.

 The connection between them was palpable, a reminder that despite rules and expectations, there were times when barriers faded and desire became evident.

The evening became a night of unspoken promises and flirtatious play, proof that even in the simplest moments, the connection between two people could be as electrifying as any grandiose event.

The moon shone in the starry sky, illuminating the stable with a silvery light that created a magical atmosphere. Allishah, still excited about the walk and the time shared with Baldwin, was elated. His face beamed with a wide smile as he walked out of the barn, his light laughter echoing in the cool night air.

"¡Oh, Baldwin!" Allishah exclaimed, her voice overflowing with joy. "This has been absolutely wonderful! I've never had a ride like this. I feel so happy and free!" His enthusiasm was contagious, and his energy lit up the environment.

Baldwin, who had been watching Allishah's joy with a mixture of admiration and a touch of sadness, couldn't help but smile at her happiness. "I'm glad you enjoyed it so much. Sometimes the simple moments can be the most special."

Allishah, still energetic, turned to Baldwin with a curious expression. "Have you ever had suitors, Baldwin? I mean, it's not every day you meet a king."

Baldwin, surprised by the question, took a moment before answering. "Not really. I've been more focused on my duties and responsibilities than on matters of love. My illness has also been an obstacle to that."

Allishah looked at him with interest, her playful gaze not fading. "That's interesting. I, on the other hand, have too many suitors. No matter where I go, there always seems to be someone willing to surround me. Sometimes it's flattering, but other times... it can be quite devious."

Baldwin raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Torturous in what way?"

Allishah laughed softly, her tone light and mischievous. "Sometimes, some suitors can be quite... repellent. Not only do they try to impose themselves, but there are also those who do not understand that a woman does not always want to be surrounded by constant attention. It is as if they cannot see beyond their own desire "

Baldwin nodded, understanding her perspective. "That must be difficult. It must be difficult to find someone genuine in the midst of all that attention."

Allishah leaned towards him, her eyes shining with a hint of knowing. "Yes, it is. But in reality, there are only a few that I'm really attracted to. Most of them are just looking to fawn on me for fun."

With a playful smile, Allishah continued, "And you, Baldwin? Who has attracted you?"

Baldwin laughed softly, shaking his head in disdain. "As I already mentioned, I haven't had any suitors. My life has been too focused on my duties and my health to worry about things like that."

Allishah leaned closer, her tone now more seductive and cheerful. "What if I told you that you could have suitors right now? How would you feel about that?"

Baldwin looked at her curiously. "Suits? Who?"

Allishah laughed, pointing playfully at herself. "Me! I'm offering myself as a suitor, although I'm not sure if that really counts. What do you think of that offer?"

Baldwin was speechless for a moment, his surprise palpable. Then his laughter joined Allishah's, the atmosphere filled with an unexpected lightness. "Well, that's something I didn't expect. How could I refuse such a lovely offer?"

Allishah winked and moved closer, her laughter filling the space. "I'm glad you think so. Sometimes a little provocation is just what it takes to make things more fun."

With the starry sky as a backdrop, and the moon illuminating their faces, the conversation between Allishah and Baldwin became a moment of genuine connection. The air was full of promise and possibilities, a night where barriers seemed to fade and smiles were the only truth.