#“i have to share my kingdom with you”

[bisexualcharmanderenergy]

Claribel knew the curse was unbreakable. Okay, that wasn’t technically true. Technically, all magic that could be done could be undone; the trick was to make the condition of its undoing extremely difficult to achieve. The particular curse Claribel had placed, that no man would ever fall in love with Marina Kedar again, could only be undone upon the death of the dragon of Shadowpeak Mountain, and since that wasn’t going to happen for five hundred years, which was far longer than Marina, being a human, would live, the curse was for all intents and purposes unbreakable.

This would have been amazing and Claribel’s coven would have been praising her for a job well done… if only she hadn’t put the curse on Marina Kedar rather than Martina Kedar. Martina had absolutely deserved the curse, given her cruel habit of seducing young men, insisting they give up everything and everyone they cared about for her, and then abandoning them. Marina, on the other hand, was a genuinely lovely person who did not by any means deserve to be unloved for her entire life.

“I think you’re about to get your ass kicked,” Claribel’s raven familiar, Ferdinand, announced as he flew in her window. “Marina Kedar is riding into these woods, and she has a sword.”

“Fuck.” Claribel sighed. “I guess I’d better face the music. If she kills me, tell the rest of the coven what happened.”

“And not peck her eyes out?” Ferdinand looked at Claribel in disbelief.

“I just ruined her chances of a happy marriage,” Claribel pointed out. “If she wants to kill me, she is completely justified.”

Ferdinand’s retort was interrupted by a knock on the door.

Claribel spoke up as soon as she opened the door. “I know an apology isn’t going to cut it, but—“

“An apology? Are you kidding?” Marina Kedar stared at Claribel in shock. “I came here to thank you!”

“Thank me?” Claribel shook her head in disbelief. “I put a curse on you! No man can ever love you again!”

“Exactly!” Marina’s face spread in what was honestly the most beautiful smile Claribel had ever seen. “You saved me from all my annoying suitors! Do you know how annoying it is to have three different guys following you everywhere you go with flowers and terrible sonnets?”

“You don’t want to get married?” Claribel had never met a village maiden who didn’t want a husband.

“If I could marry another woman, maybe,” said Marina. “With our current laws, absolutely not.”

Claribel breathed a sigh of relief. “So you didn’t come here to kill me?”

“Of course not!” Marina shook her head vehemently. “Like I said, I came here to thank you. Now that I’m under this curse, my parents will never pressure me to pick a suitor again.”

“Do you want to stay for dinner?” Claribel blurted out. She hadn’t exactly planned to say that, but she definitely didn’t regret it.

“I was just about to ask if I could treat you to dinner!” Marina smiled that gorgeous smile again. “I figured that’s the least I could do for the beautiful witch who just gave me the best gift I’ve ever gotten.”

“I’m making jambird stew tonight, but you can treat me tomorrow.” Claribel’s cheeks flushed as it occurred to her that Marina had just called her beautiful. “Sharing my dinner tonight is the least I can do for the beautiful maiden whose life I didn’t actually ruin.”

Marina did stay for dinner that night, and Claribel did go down to the village for dinner the next night, and two nights turned into many, many more.

Twelve years after Claribel first placed her curse, she and Marina became the first two women in the kingdom to marry each other instead of men.

A witch found out to her horror that she had somehow cursed the wrong person. Expecting retribution when the victim came knocking at her doorstep, she was surprised to find them rather pleased with the curse's effects.

[reginalusus]

Ok so what if I put them in Dark Souls.

Ok, ok, ok, this fucking concept has been stuck in my head for around two months and I never bothered to draw it because I don't enjoy drawing armour and shit as you can see, but I managed to get a rough sketch of some stuff out yesterday and today.

If you would like to hear me yap about how DC Dank Souls would work and Two-Dads boss fight and their designs, feel free to go under the cut. ^-^

So it's basically a Souls-like game where Gotham is a decrepit, corrupt kingdom, even more so now that Bruce Wayne/Batman has died, and the player plays as a random, chosen Gothamite that must take down the villains/morally questionable of Gotham. Obviously I'd have Harvey and Jason be the final boss due to their personal connection with Bruce. They'd have the biggest banger of a boss theme known to man and work as a duo, similar to how Sister Freide and Father Ariandel work, or Lorian, Elder Prince and Lothric, Younger Prince etc. (both from DS3).

Some quick notes about their designs.

Harvey - Blindfolded like Lady Justitia. - His scales are a sacred chime, so they can emit miracles and be used to buff. They are also pointed with a dagger - can be used to stab as a back-up. - Due to Harvey having 'fallen angel' imagery, he DID have angel wings, but over the years and as his corruption grew, they became tattered and broken and sore. They drag behind him like a cape.

Jason - His lower body is bandaged, similar to the bandages he was wrapped in prior to being placed in the Lazarus Pit. - Grim Reaper imagery, but rather than a scythe, he uses twin sickles. Sickles are normally better for prying the hard-to-reach and tougher elements of a crop. - His eyes glow similar to the Lazarus Pit.

First Phase Harvey and Jason share a health bar in the first phase. Jason is very aggressive and will attack the player with quick and brutish heavy attacks with his dual sickles. He can also throw knives, use the environment to leap around and use a chain grapple to grip the player forward. Harvey will buff Jason in the background with his scale chime. Sometimes he will buff Jason's speed, sometimes his strength - however, before he does this, he will flip his coin and there will be a distinct ding. When that ding goes off, the player has around three-five seconds to hit Harvey and prevent the buff. The player can choose to be aggressive to Harvey since he is mostly idle during this phase, but he can admit a divine AOE (Call of the Jury, perhaps it's named) from his chime that will push the player back, forcing them to fight Jason. Git gud.

Second Phase Once the health bar is drained, a cutscene will play. Jason will fall to the ground in defeat, spluttering blood and essence from the Lazarus Pit. He dies. Harvey will fall beside him and cradle him, weeping and lamenting as he does so. He will mumble something like, "a second death to a second life would pleaseth us… however, for one as beloved as thou, we want a third," before carrying him to the Lazarus Pit. He will set Jason into it, before turning to face the player and removing his half-helmet, as well as his blindfold. They will drop to the ground, and from Harvey will admit Janus, melting into view gracefully at his side as a sort of spectre. Double health bar now, woo!

This fight play similarly to the Pontiff Sulyvhan fight from DS3. Harvey will no longer bear his scales and coin; he will swap them for dual swords resembling the Sword of Justice. Harvey's attacks are not as heavy as Jason's, but they are smoother and more elegant, similar to the Dancer of the Boreal Valley from DS3 or Rellana, Twin Moon Knight from Elden Ring. Janus deals less damage but, again similar to Pontiff Sulyvhan, will actually betray what move Harvey is about to perform, giving the player a chance to learn movesets.

Third Phase Once Harvey is defeated, another cutscene will play. He will fall on one knee, crestfallen and weak. He gazes over at the Lazarus Pit and from it will emerge Jason. He will pull down his hood, revealing a distinct, crimson helm that contrasts with his green eyes beneath it (think of Pursuer from DS2). He looks over to Harvey and approaches him before helping him to his feet. Harvey flips his coin, and it comes scarred side up. Jason and Harvey will then face the player, unyielding. Then the health bars pop up, wooooo!

Jason will be similar to his first phase, and Harvey will be similar to his second phase, minus Janus. They are both aggressive, but one will tend to give the player breathing room now and then. Sometimes they will have choregraphed attacks where they work together, sometimes one will try to grab the player so the other can unleash a flurry of attacks. They have separate health bars obviously, so the player will have to choose which of the two they want to try and tackle first, or they can even out both. Git gud.

Ko-Fi Bluesky

[wholoveseggs]

Yearning

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Request from @sweetieseven: Lissaa, I have something in mind right now I've been thinking about Elijah in 1400s (his long hair and sweet smile! The way he kissed Katherine's hand!) I would love to read a story about a lady that's very smitten of him! And that she's married (so, it's kinda controversial) And my favourite author is you, so I hope you can make this happen! Luvv

{Elijah Mikaelson x f!Reader} Hired by Rebekah to paint her family’s portrait, you find yourself irresistibly drawn to her eldest brother, Elijah. But with a husband bound by ambition and society’s stifling expectations, surrendering to forbidden desire could change your life forever...

♡♡ Thank you for the request darling!!! Medieval Elijah is such a dreamm ♡♡

9k words {I can't be contained} - Warnings: smutttt, oral sex {f!receiving}, riding, public sex, outdoor sex, forbidden romance, Rebekah wants to eat you... but then becomes your friend, medieval court intrigue, Elijah being devastatingly intense and charming, lots of sexual tension, marital discord, possessive Elijah, protective Elijah, manipulative dynamics, cheating, mild violence, betrayal, secrets, gardens, power imbalances && a family portrait..

@gorgeouslydangerous @starkleila @lydia1369sworld @notleylaaa @vampiresluv

@myanmy @xflowerbombxo @maryvibess @always-and-forever-daydreaming

@spnaquakindgdom @amournoir @meeom @damienmorton @wickedmuse

@cs-please @complicatedandconfusing-25 @youcanhavemybuckanyday @akala6670229 @yeaiamme2

@itsjulzandmydiamonds @witch-of-letters @elijahstwink @rosecentury

@amanda08319 @starshipcookie @li-da-savage @veggie-eggrolls @spideybv28

@sunkissedebony97 @idk00sblog @savannaounana @sekaishell @b1tchy

@loving-and-dreaming @fancycassie-stayfancy @hcqwxrtss123 @iamawkwardandshy @ziayamikaelson

@absolutemarveltrash @darkened-writer @nina6708 @evasmlp

@madeinmyownmind-blog @lovelyy-moonlight @blacknightrises @poppet05 @sweetieseven

@xoxo-shy @nova-j @decaffeinatedparadisepost @fandom-princess-forevermore @theotherworld97

@origshipfan @cocoabliss @eternalnoble

Your husband, the son of a wealthy trader, was as calculating as he was relentless. He lived for the approval of the court, bowing and scraping before the nobles in hopes of securing a title. You’d never felt much for him, even in the early days of your marriage, when your father had insisted this union would secure your family's future. But his recent desperation to curry favor with the visiting Mikaelson family had made his flaws all the more glaring. Every word from his mouth was flattery, every gesture self-serving. You knew he would sell his own soul if it meant earning the smallest amount of praise from one of his betters.

And yet, you could not entirely blame him. The Mikaelsons had a reputation that preceded them. They were a family steeped in power and mystery, their arrival casting a shadow over the court. The noblewomen gossiped in hushed whispers about their strange allure, their almost otherworldly beauty.

"Have you seen the younger one? Ser Kol," one woman had whispered during the last banquet. "He’s often in the lower streets... no doubt consorting with common girls."

Another had leaned in closer, voice dripping with scandal. "And the middle brother? Niklaus. I heard he shares his bed with whomever pleases him, man or woman."

"And the sister, Rebekah," a third chimed in, "has every lord at court vying for her hand. A face like hers could launch kingdoms."

But it was the eldest brother who had caught your attention. Unlike his siblings, he carried himself with quiet restraint, his presence commanding without needing to demand. You’d only seen him in passing.. a fleeting glance in the library, the sweep of his long hair as he walked the castle corridors, or the faintest trace of a smile during a royal symphony. The whispers about him were fewer, but they lingered in your mind.

Elijah Mikaelson. The name alone made your pulse quicken.

You knew better than to seek his attention. And yet, you couldn't stop yourself from wondering. What was he like beneath his noble composure? What thoughts occupied his mind as he listened to the symphonies, or perused the stacks of the castle library? Was his heart truly as cold and hard as the rumors suggested?

A royal feast had been organized in honor of the Mikaelson family, a grand display of wealth and power that you suspected was meant to impress the siblings. The entire court had been invited, including yourself and your husband, whose eyes were constantly darting between the different noblemen, as though seeking an opening for conversation. You knew he had plans to corner Lord Elijah and attempt to curry his favor.

You were already growing weary of his scheming.

The music drifted throughout the great hall, a delicate blend of lutes and drums that you could barely hear over the din of chatter. Your husband had left your side, and you watched as he approached a group of young lords, joining their conversation with the usual charm and flattery.

You sighed. How you despised these affairs. Nothing of substance ever came from the empty conversations, the meaningless platitudes, the frivolous displays. All around you, people were dancing and laughing and drinking, while you stood in the shadows, a hollow ache settling in your chest..

It was in this moment of despair, when you felt most alone, that you noticed him. Lord Elijah was standing beside the great oak doors, his long hair pulled back from his face, the faintest hint of stubble shading his sharp jaw. He was dressed in a black doublet and pants, the silver embroidery catching the light as he moved. His expression was placid, almost unreadable, his dark eyes focused on something across the hall.

When you followed his gaze, you saw he was watching his brother, Niklaus, as the blond lord conversed with a young lady. There was a strange tension in the air, one that was almost palpable. You couldn't be sure, but you sensed Lord Elijah's disapproval of his brother's behavior.

As if sensing your attention, Elijah's eyes shifted, and he turned his gaze to you. His expression was difficult to read, his eyes dark and deep, and for a moment, you thought you saw something there, a glimpse of the man behind the facade.

A flush rose to your cheeks, and you quickly averted your gaze, looking away, heart racing. You had not expected to be caught staring. You cursed yourself for your foolishness.

When you dared a glance back at Elijah, he was gone. You scanned the hall, searching for him, but there was no sign of him among the throng of people. He had disappeared as quickly and as quietly as he'd arrived.

You let out a breath, feeling strangely disappointed, and then headed towards the table, where the wine was flowing freely. If you were going to survive this night, you would need to numb yourself with drink.

You poured yourself a cup of wine, the dark liquid sloshing over the rim, and took a sip. The sweet taste washed over your tongue, and you closed your eyes, savoring the sensation. You had a feeling it would be a long night.

"It's not that good," a sweet voice teased from behind you.

You spun around, nearly spilling your drink, and came face-to-face with Lady Rebekah. She looked lovely in a soft blue gown, her fair skin glowing in the candlelight, her golden hair cascading down her shoulders and her eyes sparking with mischief.

"Forgive me," you said, trying not to sound as flustered as you felt.

She took the cup out of your hand and tasted the wine, her lips twisting with disgust. “Just dreadful.”

You smiled despite yourself, charmed by her candor. "What are you doing here?"

"I was looking for you." Her words were bold and direct, and you had the sense she was used to getting her way.

"Me?"

She nodded. "Your husband told me you're an artist. I wanted to see your work."

"You have an interest in art?" You were surprised. Most ladies of the court had no such inclinations.

"Of course," she said. "Everyone else is obsessed with the latest fashions and gossip, but I prefer to occupy my mind with more meaningful things."

You couldn't help but feel a sense of kinship with her, and your heart warmed towards her. It was lonely being a woman at court, and it was refreshing to have someone understand the need for more than just the petty concerns of the nobility.

"I'd be happy to show you my paintings," you said, and the smile she gave you made your stomach do a little flip.

"Excellent." She tucked her arm into yours, pulling you close, and began to lead you out of the great hall. "Let's go, before anyone else decides they need our attention."

You laughed, feeling light and free, as she pulled you down the corridor, the two of you giggling like girls at their first festival.

"Rebekah," a stern voice cut through the laughter.

You froze, heart pounding. The voice belonged to none other than Lord Elijah.

Rebekah's smile fell, and she turned, pulling you along with her. "Yes, brother?"

Elijah's eyes landed on you, and you felt your heart skip a beat. He was even more handsome up close, his features strong and striking. "Where are you off to?"

"To look at some paintings that my lovely companion has made," Rebekah said, her arm still looped around yours.

"That sounds delightful," he said, his tone even. "I'd like to join you."

Rebekah pouted, a silent conversation passing between the siblings.

"Please," he added, softening his words.

You weren't sure what was happening, but it seemed the two of them were having a private discussion, and you were only getting fragments of it.

Rebekah let out a dramatic sigh. "Very well, brother."

She led you down the corridor, Elijah following behind. You tried to ignore his presence, but the sound of his footsteps was like a drumbeat in your mind, a constant reminder that he was near.

You stored your work in a small chamber adjacent to your rooms. There was a single chair and a narrow window that looked out onto the courtyard.

"I come here to sketch," you said, by way of explanation. "It's peaceful."

Rebekah glanced around the room, taking in the canvases and the brushes, the jars of paint and the wooden easel. She seemed bored by it, which disappointed you, but Elijah looked curious, his gaze sweeping over the room.

"You are quite talented, a true artist," he said.

"It's a hobby," you replied, shrugging.

"No," he said, his eyes finding yours. "An artist is an artist, whether it's their sole occupation or simply a pastime. It doesn't diminish the passion and dedication."

"Such a flatterer," Rebekah quipped, a touch of sarcasm in her voice.

Elijah ignored her, his gaze still fixed on you. "May I see more of your work?"

You nodded, unable to find your voice. There was something about his attention that made your stomach flutter, and you had the sudden urge to please him.

You pulled out a sketchbook and handed it to him. He opened it and began to leaf through the pages, his eyes scanning the drawings. You tried not to watch his reaction, but it was impossible not to notice the small smile that tugged at his lips.

"These are lovely," he said, and the sincerity in his voice made you blush. "You capture nature in such a unique way."

"Thank you," you said, and he closed the book, handing it back to you.

"Perhaps you'll paint a portrait of me," Rebekah suggested.

You shook your head, the suggestion startling you. "I'm not very good with portraits. People are difficult to capture."

"Nonsense," she replied. "If my brother can see the beauty in your work, then surely you can capture my own."

"Rebekah..." Elijah's voice was a warning, and you had the sense there was more to this conversation than you realized.

She turned to him, a defiant look on her face. "What? I wish for a portrait. Is that so wrong?"

"Not at all," he replied, his tone measured. "But perhaps now is not the best time."

She crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing. "Are you really going to spoil this for me? While Kol and Niklaus drink from every-"

"Enough," he cut her off.

She let out a frustrated sigh and stormed out of the room.

You stood there awkwardly, not sure what had just happened.

"My apologies," Elijah said. "Rebekah can be... a bit much at times."

"It's fine," you said, but the tension in the air was palpable.

He turned to leave, but then stopped, his hand resting on the door frame. "Be careful with her," he said, his voice softening. "Rebekah can be very charming, and she doesn't always think about the consequences of her actions."

"I'll keep that in mind," you said, not entirely sure what he meant.

He paused for a moment, and then met your gaze, his eyes dark and intense. "I look forward to seeing more of your work."

With that, he left, the door closing behind him, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

What a strange family.

Rebekah returned the next day, her demeanor much calmer. She came to visit you in the morning, before the court was abuzz with activity. You were seated in the main room of your chambers, sketching as your husband droned on about something unimportant. You could barely hear his words over the scratching of your quill on the parchment.

As soon as Rebekah entered the room, her presence commanded attention, and your husband immediately stopped speaking.

“Lady Rebekah,” he said, quickly rising to his feet.

“Forgive me,” she said, her words dripping with insincerity. “I did not mean to interrupt.”

“Nonsense,” he replied, smiling. “You are always welcome here.”

“Thank you,” she said, returning his smile before turning her attention to you. “I was hoping we might continue our conversation from last night.”

Your husband looked from you to her, clearly puzzled. He had been desperate to gain favor with any of the Mikaelsons, and the fact that she had sought you out was both unexpected and unnerving to him.

“Of course,” you said, rising from your chair. “You wished for a portrait.”

Your husband scoffed. He had never approved of your artistic pursuits and often complained about how much time they occupied.

“Actually, I was thinking a family portrait,” she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Wouldn’t that be splendid?”

“Absolutely,” your husband replied, eager to seize any opportunity to curry favor. “She would be honored.”

“Wonderful,” she said, her smile broadening. “I shall send someone to fetch you later.”

With that, she turned and left, leaving the two of you alone once more. Your husband was practically giddy, his excitement over the prospect of gaining favor with the Mikaelsons clearly evident. You couldn’t help but feel a pang of irritation, as though your work was only valued for its potential to impress the nobility.

“I don’t know how you managed it, dear wife, but you’ve secured us a place at their table,” he said, practically beaming.

You sighed, knowing there was no way out of this. The prospect of painting the family was daunting, but it would make your husband happy, and perhaps bring him one step closer to his dream of earning a title.

"Of course," you said, forcing a smile.

You didn't share his enthusiasm. In truth, the thought of spending any amount of time with the Mikaelsons made you uneasy, but you really couldn't say why. There was just something about them that told you to run far away.

Elijah had secured a large chamber with ample light, the morning sun streaming in through the tall, arched windows. The Mikaelson family was gathered around a heavy oaken table, their expressions ranging from bored to mildly irritated. Rebekah was the only one who appeared genuinely enthusiastic, her radiant smile lighting her face as she posed for the portrait.

"Is this really necessary?" Kol complained.

"Yes," Elijah replied, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"Kol, go sit next to Niklaus, and stop complaining," Rebekah chided.

Kol grumbled, but did as he was told, taking his place beside his brother.

You felt a nervous tremor in your hands as you adjusted your easel and arranged your pigments, your hands shaking slightly. You could feel their eyes on you, the weight of their attention making the task feel impossible.

Niklaus was particularly unsettling, his eyes tracking your movements, a slight smile playing on his lips. You couldn't read his expression, but something about it made you uneasy.

“I hear you paint landscapes,” he remarked, his tone laced with condescension.

“I do,” you replied, doing your best to sound composed.

“Interesting,” he mused, his words slow and deliberate. “What makes you think you are qualified to paint my family’s portrait?”

“I suppose I’m not,” you admitted, unable to hide the tremor in your voice.

“Ignore him,” Rebekah interjected sharply, shooting her brother a withering look. “He only grows competitive when the subject of art is raised. He acts as though he has some divine monopoly over the matter.”

“That is not true,” Niklaus retorted, though his tone lacked conviction.

“So you are a painter as well?” you asked Niklaus, striving to keep the conversation light.

“Among other things,” he replied, the faintest trace of a smile playing on his lips.

“Like what?” you asked, curiosity getting the better of you.

“Many things,” he said, his eyes meeting yours. “But mostly, I enjoy capturing the human form.”

The innuendo was not lost on you, and you felt your cheeks flush. Kol chuckled softly, clearly amused by his brother’s remarks.

“Enough, Niklaus,” Elijah interjected, his tone sharp and unyielding.

“Yes, yes,” Niklaus replied, his tone bored but his expression still mischievous.

You turned your focus back to the painting and began sketching the outline, but the arrangement of the siblings felt awkward. The positioning of their bodies only seemed to emphasize the tension in the room.

“How is this?” Rebekah asked, adjusting her posture gracefully.

“I’m not sure,” you admitted, struggling to find the right words.

“You could paint me nude,” Niklaus offered, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “That would certainly liven things up a bit.”

Elijah smacked the back of Niklaus’s head with a swift hand, and the room erupted in laughter.

“Enough,” Elijah commanded again, though the faintest hint of a smile tugged at his lips.

Despite your unease, you couldn’t help but feel drawn in by the Mikaelsons’ strange energy. There was something magnetic about their banter, even if it was overwhelming.

You stood and began repositioning Kol and Niklaus, each of them watching your efforts with mild amusement.

“Must I hold still?” Kol teased, feigning irritation.

“Yes,” you replied, your patience already wearing thin with his antics.

“How long will this take?” he complained, shifting in his seat.

“I’ll make sure to paint you first,” you promised, trying to keep your composure despite his constant interruptions.

“Excellent,” he said, grinning as though you had done him a great favor.

Rebekah was easy to pose, her natural grace evident in the way she carried herself. When you approached Elijah, however, your heart quickened, the thought of touching him sending a rush of heat through your body.

“Could you turn towards the light?” you asked, striving to keep your voice steady.

“Certainly,” he replied, shifting his position with an elegance that matched his demeanor.

You reached out to adjust his arm, your fingertips brushing against the firm muscle beneath his finely tailored doublet. You swallowed hard, determined to ignore the way his presence unsettled you.

“Is this acceptable?” he asked, his voice low and smooth.

“Yes,” you said quickly, stepping back to regain your composure.

He gave you a knowing smile, as though he could read the thoughts you were struggling to suppress.

As the session wore on, you found yourself more at ease among the siblings. They were an odd bunch, much like the other ridiculously wealthy nobles you had encountered, but with a surprising playfulness that set them apart. Their teasing and laughter filled the chamber, and by the time the sun began to dip in the sky, you realized you were enjoying their company.

“How many more sessions will there be?” Kol asked, stretching his arms above his head like a restless squire.

“As many as it takes,” Elijah replied, his tone leaving no room for debate.

“Only one more for Kol and Niklaus,” you said, carefully packing away your supplies.

“Thank goodness,” Kol quipped, his grin as mischievous as ever.

You smiled, charmed by his lightheartedness. Despite their eccentricities, the Mikaelsons were not as imposing as you had first feared. Perhaps, given time, you might even consider them friends.

“Shall we continue tomorrow?” Elijah asked, his tone both calm and assured.

You nodded, a strange thrill coursing through you at the thought of another day in their company.

With that, the siblings departed, leaving you alone with your thoughts. Your emotions were conflicted, and the sensation was foreign to you. You were used to feeling numb, resigned to your fate as a lonely wife, but the Mikaelsons had sparked a flame within you, a spark of curiosity and interest that you hadn't felt in years.

You let out a sigh and began tidying up the chamber. Your life was full of rules and obligations, but there was something about the Mikaelsons that made you feel like a bird longing for the sky. You couldn't explain it, and perhaps you never would, but the pull was undeniable.

You took a long walk before returning to your chambers and your husband greeted you, brimming with excitement.

“Lord Elijah has invited us to a private supper next week,” he announced, his voice filled with pride.

“A private supper?” You were surprised. Elijah had been polite but distant, and you hadn’t expected him to show such a level of interest.

“Yes,” he replied, practically giddy. “He is apparently eager to hear my thoughts on the kingdom’s trade agreements.”

You weren’t entirely shocked. Your husband had managed to carve out a name for himself among merchants and lesser nobility, though his opinions were rarely sought after by those of Elijah’s rank.

“That is wonderful,” you said, forcing a smile.

“Indeed,” he replied with a flourish. “We shall need to procure new attire.”

You frowned, knowing this would cost dearly. Your husband’s ambitions had already drained much of the household’s coffers, and yet another expense seemed likely to drive you further into debt.

“Whatever you think best,” you said, unwilling to provoke an argument.

He leaned down and kissed your cheek, his mustache brushing against your skin and making you suppress a cringe.

“It’s going to be a good year,” he declared, patting your arm with confidence. “I can feel it.”

You smiled and nodded, trying to match his enthusiasm, though the truth was, you longed for something of your own.

One thing that didn't have to be tainted by his aspirations.

The next few days were a blur as you worked to complete the portrait before the supper. The siblings had grown accustomed to sitting for the painting, and you managed to finish Kol and Niklaus without much difficulty.

Rebekah was particular, but you understood her desire to present herself at her best. You took care to subtly enhance her already striking features, ensuring she seemed alive on the canvas.

“You are all done, Rebekah,” you said, feeling a surge of satisfaction at the finished product.

She rose gracefully from the chair and approached the painting to inspect it. She looked radiant, her golden hair cascading over her shoulders, her blue eyes glinting with vitality.

“It’s perfect,” she declared, turning to smile at you. “All that remains now is dear Elijah.”

A flush rose to your cheeks at the mention of his name. Elijah was the last to be painted, and the thought of being alone with him was both thrilling and nerve-wracking.

He smiled then, his gaze locking with yours, and for a moment, it felt as if he could see straight into your soul, discerning every unspoken emotion swirling within you.

Rebekah kissed your cheek in farewell, her touch light and affectionate, before sweeping out of the room.

Now, only Elijah remained.

You had already sketched his outline, and all that was left was to refine the details. As you studied his face, your nerves fluttered anew. The faint creases of his smile, the dark stubble along his sharp jaw. He was so handsome that it almost hurt to look at him.

Picking up a brush, you dipped it into the paint and began the final stage of the portrait. His eyes followed your movements, though he remained silent, the quiet stretching between you.

“Have you always enjoyed art?” he asked suddenly, his deep voice breaking the stillness.

You startled slightly but recovered quickly. “I suppose so,” you replied, keeping your focus on the canvas. “Since I was a child, I’ve always been fascinated by color and light.”

“An admirable quality,” he said warmly.

“Thank you,” you murmured, your cheeks warming under his praise.

His eyes lingered on you, and you felt your pulse quicken beneath his steady gaze.

“Your husband has been quite vocal about his ambitions,” he remarked, and your heart sank.

You had hoped the task at hand would steer the conversation elsewhere, but it seemed your husband’s reputation for greed had preceded him.

“Yes,” you replied softly, unsure how best to answer.

“He seeks a title,” Elijah said, his tone calm and matter-of-fact.

“I’m aware,” you replied, unable to mask the bitterness that crept into your voice.

“You don’t seem enthused by the prospect,” he observed, his sharp eyes studying you.

“His ambitions are his own,” you said, deflecting as you focused your attention on the canvas.

“And what of your ambitions?” he asked, his words soft but pointed. You felt the air between you shift, heavy with unspoken meaning.

“What do you mean?” you asked cautiously, glancing at him.

“I mean, what would make you happy? Is a title something you desire?”

You paused, his question taking root in your mind. The truth was, you hadn’t often considered what might make you happy. Your happiness had never been a priority, least of all to your husband.

“Are you married, Lord Mikaelson?” you asked, changing the subject as you carefully added the dark wisps of his eyelashes to the portrait.

“It’s Elijah,” he corrected gently, his eyes meeting yours. “And no, I am not married.”

“Well… marriage is about compromise,” you said, your tone measured. “My duty is to support my husband and help him achieve his goals.”

“But what of your own needs and desires?” he pressed, his gaze unwavering. The question caught you off guard.

“I am fortunate enough to have a hobby that satisfies some of those,” you replied, though the words felt inadequate, leaving you feeling unexpectedly exposed.

He was silent for a moment, and you thought the conversation had ended, but then he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You deserve far more than that.”

Your breath caught, and your gaze lifted to meet his. His words struck deeply, piercing through the layers of propriety and obligation that had shaped your life.

“I’m sure your future wife will be a fortunate woman,” you said, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

He chuckled softly, his eyes sparkling with quiet amusement. “I doubt that very much.”

You didn’t know how to respond. The sudden intimacy between you was overwhelming, and you quickly turned your attention back to the canvas, focusing intently on the portrait to steady yourself.

But Elijah continued to ask you questions... questions no one had ever bothered to ask. He seemed genuinely interested in your thoughts and feelings, and you found yourself opening up to him in ways you hadn’t expected. You spoke of your childhood, your dreams, your fears, and he listened, his attention unwavering.

“And what of you?” you asked, hoping to shift the focus away from yourself. “It must be difficult, being the eldest brother.”

“It can be,” he admitted, his smile fading into something more introspective. “My brothers can be… boisterous at times.”

“Rebekah mentioned that,” you said lightly, hoping to ease the mood.

“She’s the wildest of us all,” he replied with a soft chuckle. “But she has a good heart.”

“I can see that,” you said, smiling.

He paused, his expression thoughtful, as though weighing his next words. “It’s rare for my family to enjoy the company of someone outside our circle,” he said, his gaze meeting yours. “Your friendship is a gift.”

A flutter stirred in your chest at his words, which touched something deep within you. You hadn’t realized how lonely you had been until you spent time with the Mikaelsons, who had brought a warmth into your life that had long been absent.

“I am honored to be considered a friend,” you said sincerely, and his smile softened in response.

“May I see?” he asked, gesturing toward the portrait.

“Of course,” you said, stepping aside.

He moved closer to the painting, his gaze traveling across the canvas. His eyes widened slightly, and you caught the glimmer of admiration in his expression.

“You have captured us all so perfectly,” he said, the sincerity in his tone sending a rush of warmth through you.

“Thank you,” you replied, unable to hide the pride in your voice.

“Rebekah was right,” he said, turning back to you. “You are an artist.”

You smiled, and he stepped closer, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your breath catch.

“I shall treasure this painting,” he said, his voice low and earnest. “And, of course, ensure you are handsomely rewarded for it.”

“It’s a gift,” you said softly, wanting him to understand just how much this meant to you.

“Nonsense. I cannot accept a gift of such value,” he replied, though the faintest hint of a smile tugged at his lips. “Perhaps we could reach a compromise.”

“What did you have in mind?” you asked, curiosity stirring within you.

“I will grant the title your husband so desperately seeks,” he said, his voice low, almost a whisper.

You could only stare at him, his offer leaving you stunned. It was the last thing you had expected, and for a moment, you wondered if he was jesting.

“But in return, I would ask for one more thing,” he continued, his eyes holding yours with unwavering intensity.

“And what is that?” you asked, your breath catching.

He reached for your hand, his touch warm and startlingly intimate. “A truth.”

“A truth?” you repeated, your confusion evident.

“Yes,” he said, his tone as soft as the flicker of a candle’s flame. “Tell me... do you feel the same way about me as I do about you?”

Your eyes locked with his, and your heart raced as if caught in a dream. The answer came easily, as if it had always been waiting to be spoken.

“Yes.”

His lips curved into a smile as he brought your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of your palm.

“You are beautiful, like one of your paintings,” he murmured, his gaze never leaving yours. “I find myself quite envious of your husband, who shares your bed each night.”

You had been drawn to him from the start, and now, as he stood before you, you felt an undeniable connection. He was kind, charming, and devastatingly handsome, and for a moment, you wondered if perhaps you had found someone who could understand you, someone who could see past the walls you had built around your heart.

He leaned in, capturing your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. A spark of heat coursed through your body, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to dissolve into nothingness.

The proper thing would have been to pull away, to remind him of your vows and the sanctity of your marriage. But instead, you returned the kiss, the passion igniting within you like a forbidden flame.

His hands found your waist, pulling you closer, and as the kiss deepened, you knew you were lost. Your heart was his for the taking, and nothing else seemed to matter.

Gently, he guided you back until you felt the sturdy surface of the table against your hips. Your fingers threaded through his hair, drawing him closer, and he let out a low moan that sent a fiery thrill through your veins.

Breaking the kiss, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “Tell me to stop,” he murmured, his hands stilling on your hips, though his voice carried a tremor of restraint.

"No," you breathed, the word barely audible.

He grinned and lifted you onto the table, his mouth crashing back against yours. He lifted your skirts, his fingers brushing against your bare thighs, and you felt a thrill of pleasure run through you.

Your hands sought the laces of his doublet, fumbling as you tried to feel the warmth of his skin beneath the fabric. You couldn't get enough of him, his taste, his scent, the feel of his body pressed against yours.

"So lovely," he whispered, his hands moving up your thighs, his fingers finding their mark.

A gasp escaped your lips as your body responded to his touch, heat building within you. His grin was both knowing and triumphant as he began a slow, torturous rhythm that left you breathless, each stroke teasing and coaxing you closer to the edge.

He pressed kisses along your jawline, his lips trailing a molten path down the curve of your neck. Your body arched against him instinctively, your hips moving in time with his hand.

Then he knelt before you, his head dipping beneath your skirts, and you gripped the edge of the table, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

“Elijah, what are you-” The question died on your lips as his tongue found a place of exquisite sensitivity, drawing a low moan from you.

His hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer, and your toes curled as waves of pleasure rippled through you. You had never imagined that a man could kiss you there, and the feel of his hot, wet tongue was utterly exquisite.

His tongue danced across your most sensitive core, the sensation unlike anything you had ever known. The pleasure built steadily, a white-hot heat coiling low in your belly, threatening to consume you.

Your husband had never touched you like this, had never made you feel this alive. Closing your eyes, you surrendered to the moment, your moans growing louder as the ecstasy surged within you.

Your fingers wove into his hair, tugging him closer, and he groaned against you, the vibration sending a shudder through your body. The release was powerful, leaving you trembling in its wake.

He emerged from beneath your skirts, his lips glistening with evidence of his devotion, a satisfied grin lighting his face. Your cheeks burned, feeling exposed, and yet, utterly content.

He kissed you again, his lips warm and insistent, and you tasted yourself there. Instead of repulsion, it only stoked the fire within you, the desire flaring anew.

“If you were my wife, I would cherish you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

You froze, his words washing over you, leaving your mind spinning. Was he serious? Could this truly be happening?

“I would love you,” he continued, his gaze unwavering. “Every day.”

“Elijah,” you whispered, his name catching in your throat. Your hand rose to cup his cheek, and he leaned into your touch, his eyes locked on yours with an intensity that made your heart ache.

He was offering you everything you had ever dreamed of. It was all too much, too fast. You knew the cost of this moment. The ruin it would bring to your marriage, your reputation, and the life you had known. But as you looked into Elijah’s eyes, you saw the glimmer of something more, something wonderful. It was terrifying to believe in.

“We cannot,” you said at last, your voice trembling.

His smile faltered, and a shadow passed over his expression, leaving it guarded.

“I understand,” he said quietly, though the disappointment in his eyes was unmistakable.

“It’s not what I want,” you added quickly, desperate for him to know the truth.

“But it is what must be,” he replied, his tone heavy with resignation.

You kissed him once more, the touch lingering as if to hold onto the moment just a little longer, before pulling away.

He helped you down from the table, his hands steady as your skirts fell back into place. You straightened the fabric with trembling fingers, the weight of what had transpired pressing upon you.

He sighed, the sound heavy with resignation. “I will see you at the supper,” he said, his voice carrying a sadness that pierced your heart.

“Until then,” you replied softly, fighting the desperate urge to stay.

He took your hand, pressing one last kiss to the back of it, the gesture tender and filled with unspoken meaning. Then he bid you farewell and turned to go, leaving the chamber.

You watched him leave, your chest tight with conflicting emotions. You knew you had made a mistake, one that could ruin you both, and yet, as you recalled the way he had held you, you could not bring yourself to regret it.

The night of the supper arrived, and you felt a flutter of nerves. It would be the first time you had seen Elijah since your encounter in the studio, and you knew that your feelings would be impossible to hide.

As your carriage pulled up to the Mikaelson manor, its grand stone façade illuminated by the glow of torches, you could barely contain your racing thoughts.

Stepping out, you gazed up at the magnificent hall, its imposing architecture a testament to the wealth and influence of the Mikaelson family. Your husband, beside you, was brimming with excitement, his greatest ambition on the verge of realization. You, however, felt only apprehension.

He spoke animatedly with some of the other guests, his arm draped loosely around your waist, using you as an ornament to enhance his image.

“Ah, Lord Elijah!” your husband called out, his voice cheerful. “Just the man I wished to see.”

Elijah approached, dressed in a formal white doublet, composed and handsome as ever. His dark eyes flicked over you, lingering for a moment, and you felt a blush creep up your neck.

“What a splendid home,” your husband remarked, oblivious to the tension in the air. “It must require great effort to maintain a residence of this size.”

Elijah smirked, though his gaze was still drawn to you. “It does,” he replied smoothly, his words laced with an undertone only you could catch, “but I find the cost well worth the investment.”

Your husband launched into a lengthy discourse on his vision for the kingdom’s agricultural policies, extolling the opportunities for a new golden age and hinting at Elijah’s potential involvement. Elijah nodded politely, offering measured responses, but his focus never truly left you, his dark eyes drinking you in.

“Your wife is an astounding artist; the portrait she painted of my family was truly breathtaking,” Elijah said, his dark eyes meeting yours and holding them.

“Oh yes, she has many talents,” your husband replied dismissively, his tone devoid of the admiration Elijah's carried.

“We shall present it to the court this evening after the final course,” Elijah announced smoothly.

“We shall?” you blurted out, unable to hide your surprise.

“Of course,” Elijah said with a grin, his expression full of delight. “It is far too beautiful not to share.”

You blushed, the compliment sending a rush of heat through you. Your husband didn't value your work, not the way Elijah did. It was a heady sensation, knowing that someone thought so highly of you.

"Well, isn't it out darling artist," Kol said as he approached you. "My sister is absolutely mad about the portrait."

Your husband’s posture stiffened as he noticed how at ease the Mikaelsons were with you.

“Yes, well, my wife is skilled in her pursuits,” he said, his smile tight and uncomfortable.

Elijah continued speaking with you, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he encouraged you to share your thoughts. The conversation flowed easily, and you found yourself opening up in a way that felt both liberating and dangerous. Elijah seemed genuinely engaged, his attention unwavering, which only made your husband’s irritation more apparent.

Thankfully, Elijah soon excused himself, moving to greet other lords and ladies.

“I did not realize you were such a popular figure among the court,” your husband said sharply, his displeasure evident in his clipped tone.

You didn't know what to say, the question caught you off-guard. Your husband hated being upstaged, and by his own wife? Such a thing could not be borne.

“They seem to enjoy my work,” you replied cautiously.

“Are you blushing?” he accused, his voice low and edged with anger.

You avoided his gaze, fiddling with the clasp of your necklace instead.

“You cannot expect me to believe they are so enamored with you simply because of your art,” he pressed, his mustache twitching as his frustration grew.

"What should they be taken with? Your endless monologues about the economy?" You asked, losing patience with his jealousy.

He let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. "Do not let it go to your head. I'm the one who gives you that platform, without me, you'd be nothing," he spat.

“Nothing?” you scoffed, your voice sharper than you intended. “I could say the same about you. How many times have your dealings fallen through? How many empty promises have you made and broken?”

Your husband’s face turned an alarming shade of red, his knuckles tightening until they turned white. He leaned in, his eyes blazing with anger.

“You are my wife,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “Never forget your place.”

He stormed off, his fury radiating in every step. You felt a pang of guilt, but it was overshadowed by an unexpected surge of relief. For the first time in years, you had stood up for yourself, and it felt strangely wonderful.

Throughout the supper, the animosity from your husband was palpable. His simmering rage showed in his flushed cheeks and clenched jaw. The food was exquisite, but the atmosphere at your table was heavy with tension.

Elijah was seated beside you, and the placement only deepened your husband’s ire.

Kol, as ever, was holding court with his wild tales, Rebekah and Klaus laughing at his expense. Even Elijah allowed himself a rare smile, and you couldn’t help but giggle, his sister’s joy infectious.

Your husband straightened in his chair, preening like a peacock, desperate to reclaim attention. He launched into a self-aggrandizing tale about how he had single handedly financed the next great expansion of the local market. His gestures were large and theatrical, but his words fell flat. Rebekah’s eyes glazed over in boredom, and she stifled a yawn, twirling her fork idly between her fingers.

Kol, undeterred, followed with a ridiculous story of the time he had escaped an angry mob by rowing a boat down the river, only to be pursued by a flock of starlings. The table erupted into laughter, the sound spilling out into the hall.

You were enjoying yourself thoroughly when you felt a warm hand on your knee. Startled, you glanced at Elijah, whose gaze was steady and knowing. His smile was suggestive, and he leaned in, his breath warm against your ear.

“Once the painting is revealed, can you slip away...go outside?” he murmured, his voice low and intimate.

You nodded, your cheeks warm. Elijah sat back, his grin widening. You knew what was coming, the chance to be alone with him. It was forbidden, and yet, you couldn't deny how much you wanted it.

As the final course was cleared away, Elijah signaled for a footman to unveil your canvas. The gathered lords and ladies reacted with gasps of admiration and murmurs of approval.

Your husband’s displeasure was evident, his lips pressed into a thin line as he observed the attention your painting commanded. His frustration simmered beneath the surface, his irritation growing with each word of praise.

As the hall began to empty, you turned to your husband, murmuring that you needed fresh air. He barely acknowledged your words, too preoccupied with engaging another lord in animated conversation.

You stepped out into the cool night, the sky above alive with stars. The full moon cast a silvery glow over the gardens, illuminating the landscape in an otherworldly light. You paused, momentarily struck by the serene beauty around you.

Faint strains of music and laughter drifted from the ballroom, mingling with the gentle rustle of leaves. As you approached the rose garden, you felt the warmth of a hand resting lightly on your back.

“I love the scent of roses,” Elijah said quietly.

“They’re beautiful,” you replied, your gaze fixed on him, transfixed by his presence.

“They are,” he agreed, though his eyes never left yours.

“Are there any here you favor?” you asked, curious.

“This one,” he said softly, plucking a dark red rose from a nearby bush.

He presented the flower to you with a subtle flourish, its delicate fragrance drifting upward to greet you.

“It’s exquisite,” you breathed, running your fingers over the velvety petals.

Elijah stepped closer, his hands gently cradling your face as his dark eyes searched yours. Slowly, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a tender kiss.

“You’re even more beautiful,” he murmured, his voice filled with quiet reverence. Your heart skipped, the words igniting a warmth deep within you.

His lips claimed yours once more, the kiss deepening as you surrendered to the moment. The rose slipped from your fingers, forgotten, as your hands found their way into his hair, drawing him closer.

His hands roamed over your curves, his touch igniting a fire that coursed through you. You could hardly believe this was real. That he was here, kissing you, holding you. It all felt like a dream, one you never wished to wake from.

He lifted you onto a stone bench, his hands unlacing the front of your dress. You knew this was forbidden, but you no longer cared. You wanted him, and in this moment, the risk felt worth taking.

Your gown slipped, pooling around your waist and revealing the soft lines of your bodice. Elijah leaned in, his lips trailing reverently across the exposed skin, eliciting a shiver of pleasure from you.

As he captured your lips in a kiss once more, his hands cupping your breasts, you moaned, a wave of desire flooding your core. You reached down to unfasten the laces of his breeches, your need growing with every passing moment.

He slipped a hand between your legs, finding that sensitive spot of pleasure, and you let out a gasp. Your fingers fumbled as you worked the laces loose, a flutter of nervous anticipation running through you.

"Is this what you want?" he asked, his voice thick with emotion. "If you're sure-"

"I want this," you cut him off. "I want you."

His fingers teased at your entrance, gently dipping into you, before withdrawing. He repeated this a few more times, before finally sliding a single finger inside of you. You let out a soft moan as he curled his finger inside you, before slowly withdrawing it again. He added a second finger, slowly pumping them in and out of you as you gripped his arm.

"I have a plan," he whispered to you, leaning closer to you as he continued to slowly move his fingers in and out of you. "When the sun rises, you are going to leave with me, and we are going to get as far away from this court as we can. Do you understand?"

You looked into his eyes, your breath catching at the intensity of his gaze. His words lingered between you, heavy with promise and risk. The court, your husband, the consequences. All of it seemed so distant compared to the man before you.

“Yes,” you whispered, your voice trembling with both fear and excitement. “I understand.”

Elijah’s lips found yours again, the kiss deeper this time, as though sealing the vow you had just made. His fingers continued their deliberate rhythm, drawing gasps from your lips as your body arched into his touch.

“You’re mine now,” he murmured against your lips, his voice filled with possessive tenderness. “And I’ll keep you safe.”

His words could have terrified you, but instead, they wrapped around your heart like armor, shielding you from the unknown future that awaited.

Your hands slipped into his breeches, wrapping around his length. His hips bucked instinctively against your palm, a low groan escaping his lips as his head tilted back in pleasure.

His reaction sent a thrill through you, your core throbbing with need. You began to stroke him, your fingers sliding along his length, feeling him grow harder beneath your touch. His grip on you tightened, his breath hot against your neck as he struggled to maintain his restraint.

You knew how dangerous it would be if someone caught you like this, but your desire to be with him, to have him in any way you could, outweighed any fear of discovery.

The risk only served to heighten the pleasure, your arousal pooling at the apex of your thighs. You sat up on your knees and he helped guide himself into your warmth, the two of you both gasping as your bodies joined at last.

The feel of his hardness inside of you was exquisite, filling you in a way you hadn't expected. His hands moved to your hips, holding you steady as he began a steady rhythm.

The sound of his labored breaths mixed with your own soft gasps and moans as the two of you found a familiar rhythm, moving as one. You clung to him, your arms wrapped around his neck, letting him guide your hips up and down in the most delicious of ways.

Your husband was always quick, in and out, and gone before you could catch your breath, but Elijah took his time, savoring the feeling of being buried deep inside you, drawing out every gasp and whimper, making sure you both reached the peak together.

As the two of you came together, his warm seed spilling inside of you, the sound of his name on your lips seemed to echo across the stillness of the night. He kissed you passionately, his lips swallowing every last whimper, before breaking the kiss to press soft kisses down your neck and along your collarbone, making sure to leave no part of your body untouched.

You rested your head on his chest, feeling his heart thundering against your ear, listening to the soothing sound of his breath as it began to even out.

The sound of distant voices coming towards you broke the spell of the moment, and you both began to hurriedly redress. He helped you fix the bodice of your dress and tuck your skirts in order to keep up appearances. The two of you shared a nervous glance, a flicker of uncertainty flashing between you, as the voices drew nearer.

Then he grabbed your hand and tugged you deeper into the garden, the two of you hiding among the trees and shrubbery, pressed tightly together in an effort not to be discovered.

As the sound of the voices passed by, your nerves seemed to settle and a playful giggle slipped out of your lips. The look in his eyes when they met yours again was intense, and before you knew what was happening he was kissing you once more, the warmth of his mouth moving over yours, slow and passionate.

It was in that moment that a shocked gasp broke through the stillness of the garden. The two of you sprang apart, whirling to face whoever had discovered you.

Your husband stood there, his face contorted in horror and fury. You opened your mouth to speak, to explain, but no words came out.

His hand flew to the hilt of his sword, but before he could draw it, Elijah stepped forward, his hand pressing firmly against your husband’s chest.

“Please, sir,” Elijah said, his voice a commanding force that could have made the devil himself tremble. “Do not act in haste.”

Your husband froze, his hand falling still as he stared at Elijah’s outstretched arm in disbelief.

“How dare you,” your husband hissed, his teeth clenched, his rage barely contained.

Elijah removed his hand and stood tall, his presence radiating a quiet menace. “I know what it is you truly desire,” he said, gesturing toward you with a slight tilt of his head. “And it is not her.”

Your husband’s expression twisted into one of offense, but it quickly faded into something darker as understanding dawned.

“How much?” he asked bitterly, his tone cold and calculating.

Elijah smiled, but it was not a kind smile. It was sharp, predatory, a smile that promised victory. “Your wife, in exchange for that title you’ve sought so desperately. It seems a fair trade.”

Your husband was many things. A selfish, ladder-climbing opportunist. But even he had a shred of pride. Elijah’s offer was too much for him to bear.

“My lord, this is a dishonorable proposal,” your husband said, his voice trembling with indignation.

“No more dishonorable than your ambition,” Elijah retorted smoothly, his gaze unwavering.

Elijah turned to you then, his eyes searching yours. In that moment, you gave him a small nod, your love for him shining through, along with your silent plea for the freedom he had promised.

“You are a despicable man,” your husband spat, his voice filled with venom. “The king shall hear of this. I swear, I will see you both hanged.”

Elijah chuckled softly, a sound that sent a chill down your spine. Stepping closer, he grasped your husband’s face, forcing him to meet his eyes. “Do not make threats you cannot keep,” he murmured, his voice a deadly caress.

Your husband’s fury faltered as Elijah’s dark gaze bore into him, his expression shifting to confusion, then calm. His breathing slowed, his body slackening as if under a spell.

“You no longer have a wife,” Elijah said, his voice low and hypnotic. “Any trace of her in your mind is like dust on the wind. You shall never seek her again.”

Your husband’s voice turned hollow, devoid of emotion. “I no longer have a wife. I shall never seek her.”

“And when you return to court, you shall speak of her as if she has passed on. Do you understand?” Elijah continued.

“I shall act as though my wife is no more,” your husband repeated in that strange monotone.

Satisfied, Elijah released him, watching as he stumbled away from the garden in a dazed, trance-like state. The shadows of the manor swallowed him whole, leaving the two of you alone once more.

Elijah turned back to you, his hands gentle as they cupped your face, brushing away a tear that had escaped down your cheek.

“How?” you whispered, your voice trembling. “How did you do that? It was as if you cast a spell over him.”

A sly grin spread across Elijah’s lips as he leaned in to kiss you softly. “Let us not waste another moment dwelling on such things,” he murmured. “Come away with me, my love.”

“And where shall we go, my lord?” you asked playfully, your heart lighter than it had been in years.

He shrugged his broad shoulders, his eyes sparkling with promise. “The world is ours, my sweet. Where shall we begin?”

[supernova1885a]

I love angst, make my fav characters suffer is basically a tradition.

So I have all this lore that I made up myself while playing based on confusing events and dialogues, so I decided to illustrate a little bit of what the transition from happiness = tragedy would be like in the relationship of these two. I don't know what the hell I saw in that spider but I love them and that's precisely why I'm going to make them suffer, you're welcome.

I MUST CLARIFY that everything I say in this post is not canon or is partially based on the canon of the game. Don't take this as something official, I just want to share a little of my interpretation of both the story and characters. Also that Shamura is a she/her to me, but I will refer to her as they/them in this post.

After Shamura found the others, they moved together to Silk Cradle and worked out what their new life would be from now on. Shamura made very strong bonds with they new family, but especially with Leshy and Narinder, although due to his insistence they spent more time with the latter.

They used to take him with them to their temple and show him the spider webs that decorated the place, as well as teach him to weave and other things. Being the eldest, they had to impart the learning of their siblings as well as help them assume their places as divinities. All with enormous love and affection that grew with the passage of time.

Years later, the five of them grew up and left Silk Cradle to begin to reign in their respective kingdoms. Because Narinder's kingdom was not earthly, he was the last to leave.

Shamura was the one who made and gave their siblings their robes, it was a last gift from them before not seeing them again for a long time. They could not hide their happiness, although along with it there was a slight feeling of sadness, but they knew well that they could not keep them with them for life and had to let them follow their paths.

Of course, there are times when with bad guidance the paths can go awry. Shamura loved their siblings, perhaps too much and that made them very permissive regarding certain actions that they did. Narinder was fed up with his position and decided to go further, breaking the laws of nature, Shamura had a bad feeling but when they realized it was too late. Narinder felt betrayed when they reproached him, because it was thanks to their knowledge that he had done what he did and now they was angry with him.

Maybe it was the tension of the moment that increased with each reprimand from they that caused him to attack them, maybe it was anger or he just didn't know how to control himself. From one moment to the next Shamura fell to the ground, a warm liquid began to stain their face, the screams of their siblings could be heard in the distance and a sharp pain began to overwhelm them. Fear, anger, sadness, pain, they had never felt so many emotions at once, they didn't know whether to cry or scream, whether to get up or stay there, until suddenly everything went completely dark.

Shamura was cared for by their siblings until they was stable, but the pain from their wound was not the only thing that began to bother them. With it came severe headaches, vertigo, dizziness, and memory loss. Despite all that and the harm their beloved brother had caused them, deep down in their damaged heart, they still loved him.

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I haven't worked on this beyond the main concept yet, but I wanted to share it with you guys instead of just leaving it to writing and my imagination! I'm thinking about making a few comics about it, I have a lot of ideas I want to put down here. Thanks for reading!

[neoluca]

ohhhhh my god this piece like. reached deep inside me and has filled me with a really inexplicable feeling but needless to say looking at it is making me EXTREMELY happy.

i think it really reminds me of a couple of things, namely:

the pocket neopets! i had the kacheek and kougra growing up and they were some of my favorite toys.... i played with them every single day even when the batteries died

similarly, the vintage polly pocket clamshells. i didn't have one of my own but my aunt did and i would play with them whenever i was visiting my grandparents 💝

the last thing it reminds me of is unfortunately no longer available on the internet and wasn't properly archived by the wayback machine.... but there used to be this website called ham-ham kingdom that had a hamtaro dress up game where you could drag and drop all the hamtaro characters into different rooms and then put clothes on them etc..... i used to basically "play dolls" with the hamtaro sprites in those rooms, and i have a feeling i would have done more or less the same thing with this image if it had existed at the same time as that webpage :3

thank you for sharing!! it looks wonderful!!

🌈🌈Cute Heaven World Map!🌈🌈

[devotedlypinkpeanut]

The Good King — Teaser

SUMMARY : In this first life, you attract the attention of King Lee Heeseung, known throughout the kingdom as the good king. Seemingly tender, patient and fair, he is admired for his passion and determination to achieve his goals. But behind this mask hides a man obsessed with you, ready to do anything to have you. His obsession becomes a dangerous game where tricks and manipulations intertwine with a captivating sweetness, plunging you into a whirlwind of emotions. Whether it's seducing you or breaking down any barriers between you, Heeseung is determined to make you his, no matter the cost.

PAIRING : Lee Heeseung x fem!reader 

GENRE : Dark romance, obsession, drama, slow burn, psychological tension, historical romance, reincarnation, fantasy, reverse harem

Hello everyone!

I hope you are well! I wanted to share a little preview of the second chapter of my story, which is heavily inspired by the series The Tudors and Reign . If you like royal intrigue, complicated relationships and a good dose of psychological tension, I'm sure you'll enjoy this story!

The universe takes place in a historical setting, with fascinating characters and intense power games. Obsession, mystery and manipulation are at the heart of the plot, a bit like in these series. I hope you will like this teaser, and I can't wait to see if you are as impatient as I am to discover the rest! 😊

Series Masterlist

The grand ballroom, lit by hundreds of candles, seemed to transform into an ocean of flickering light. The reflections danced on the stone walls, mingling with the laughter and hushed murmurs of the guests, creating an unreal, almost magical atmosphere. But in the middle of this sea of ​​elegance and splendor, Heeseung was elsewhere, out of time, out of everything that surrounded him. His gaze, carried away by a force greater than him, did not leave your silhouette.

There you were, in the center of the room, a mystery embodied in your midnight blue velvet dress. It hugged your curves with an almost unreal fluidity, every movement you made seemed suspended in time. The dress, delicately adorned with gold and silver threads, sparkled under the candlelight, like a sea of ​​sapphires, and every step you took caused a wave of admiration among the guests. But it wasn't just the beauty of your outfit that captivated Heeseung. It was you, the shine hidden behind your mask, the discreet glow of your eyes that barely reflected under the veil. It was that look, that look that seemed to carry everything in its path, like a calm sea hiding raging waves beneath.

He no longer heard the voices around him, not even King Francis I speaking in his ear, the latter's words becoming indistinct whispers in the back of his mind. Francis, in the middle of a speech about politics and possible alliances, had no idea that Heeseung was completely elsewhere. He was absorbed, captive to a moment, a single moment: you. The conversations were reduced to background noise. There was only this palpable tension, this electrification of the air between you, and everything around him seemed to distort and dissolve into a light mist.

Heeseung was hanging on your every move. Shadows danced around you, shards of light playing here and there, intensifying the depth of your face barely revealed under the veil. His gaze, captivated by the curve of your neck, slid slowly over your face, following the perfect line of your features to finally stop on your eyes. Those eyes… they were everything. That was where the mystery and the truth he ardently desired to uncover lay. Behind that mask, behind that veil that concealed almost everything, he guessed that you carried something precious, rare, inaccessible. And that, more than anything, troubled him deeply.

He was there, in that sea of ​​light and laughter, but there was nothing left but you and him. Nothing else. Nothing else mattered.

Francis, completely unaware of the seductive power of the scene, continued his speech. He spoke of strategy, alliances, lands to annex and potential marriages. He spoke, spoke endlessly. But all this was lost in the void for Heeseung, who, while keeping Francis in his field of vision, could not take his eyes off you. He heard the king's words, but did not listen to them. They had become empty, futile. Heeseung felt alien to this world of politics and plots, like a spectator trapped in a dream from which he was desperately trying to awaken.

When Francis finally caught sight of Heeseung's intense fixation, he understood. A slight mocking smile played on his lips. He approached him, like a predator ready to savor its prey, and murmured in a low, amused voice, almost invisible amidst the bursts of laughter and surrounding conversations: "So, Heeseung, you seem particularly absorbed by one of the Belmont sisters, don't you?" His tone betrayed an amusement that was in no way sincere. A slippery amusement, more cruel than benevolent, all the while knowing the effect it could have on him.

Heeseung, in spite of himself, felt his heart racing, an intense heat invaded his chest. He briefly looked away, staring at Francis for a moment, but immediately, his attention turned back to you. It was no longer a question of will. He could no longer take his eyes off you. The simple thought of leaving this moment, of moving away from you, filled him with a sort of palpable anguish. He wanted to know everything. Understand everything. He felt his soul contract under the intensity of the desire he felt, an irrepressible need to approach this mystery.

He cleared his throat, trying to regain control of himself, but the question escaped him before he could even stop it.

“Who… Who is she?” His voice, trembling despite himself, betrayed the depth of the desire he felt. It wasn’t just a superficial curiosity. No, it was a visceral need. An urgency to know everything, to understand everything. To discover who you really were.

Francis, of course, noticed the vulnerability in her voice. It only made his smile grow wider. He moved closer, leaning in with measured slowness, as if savoring every word, every moment where he would have the power to delve a little deeper into Heeseung's silent suffering.

“Ah, Y/n Belmont…” The king sighed, and the sigh sounded almost nostalgic, as if the young woman’s name evoked an old story, a distant and elusive romance. “She is… different, you know. A solitary soul, lost in her books, far from worldly distractions. She finds more pleasure in the solitude of her library than in the arms of men. But…” Francis let a silence settle, a smile that was far from innocent spreading across his lips. “Her sister, Giselle, she… She loves the court, the attention, the glory. I have…” The king paused, weighing his words. “I rode her, many times, once upon a time. An effervescent passion, but without mystery. I called her my ‘French mare’.”

Heeseung absorbed every word that Francis said about you. He tried to understand why you obsessed him, why each sentence of Francis seemed to chain him more to this inexorable desire to know you, to possess you. An inner storm that he could not control consumed him. He tried to look away from Francis, who seemed to savor the situation with obvious pleasure. But when his gaze caught sight of you again in the crowd, a shiver ran down his spine.

Without even a glance at Francis, without paying attention to the other guests who turned to watch his departure, he put down his glass with a sudden movement, leaving a trace of wine flowing onto the tablecloth. He stood up, his body guided by a force he did not understand, a force greater than himself. He crossed the room with a quiet determination, an obvious and irrevocable goal. His heart was beating at a frantic pace, but there was no more room for fear or hesitation. He was heading straight for you.

And all around him, the air seemed to thicken. The murmurs of the guests, the bursts of laughter and the looks of lust, all of it was nothing more than a rough sea that seemed far away, almost nonexistent. In his mind, there was only you. Just you.

[headlesssamurai]

[kisaakiya]

My favorite girlies and pride! Happy pride!! 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

[gloomybadger4life]

I see it like this.

Zuko kills Ozai on the day of the black sun. He ropes Azula into covering it up. He gets crowned.

Azula never goes to the boiling rock and Zuko never leaves.

Mai becomes Zuko's bethroed.

Ty lee kinda just chills with Azula.

The day of the comet comes.

Zuko doesn't invade the EK. Not out of goodness but out of the knowledge that the fire nation is on the brink of bankruptcy.

When the avatar doesn't find the firelord waiting for him the gaang head over to caldera to find Ozai. Zuko welcomes them as if they were diplomats.

He announces the end of the war and frames it in a way that is all about welcoming back the heroes and honoring those fallen in the war.

The gaang don't like it one bit. But they at least have some semblance of peace.

They stay at the palace and it all feels uneasy. Zuko pretends not to know any of them outside of an official capacity.

Zuko asks Aang as the avatar to deliver the news to the earth kingdom. He releases some prisoners of war that were captured. (Invasion still failed)

Zuko starts getting more and more paranoid as time goes by and while the nation is stable, the war effort has already set them on a path to ruin. Dissidents start popping up, not even wanting to restart the war, just wanting to oust Zuko.

He blackmails Azula into eliminating the dissenters under the threat of framing her for Ozai's death.

Azula goes to Ty lee.

Azula: you must hate me now, I deserve it just listen to me. He's got dirt on me, and that means dirt on you too. You've seen my brother. He barely speaks to Mai anymore.

Ty lee: I don't... What?

Azula: You know what he did right?

Ty Lee: Yeah...

Azula: He's gonna pin it on me the minute I finish my last mission. After I brought him home. And because you've been my closest ally and friend, he's gonna have it out for you too. Best case you end up in the bolling rock.

Ty lee: Zula...

Azula: Ty Ty. Please. For what we once were, you have to run, I have a boat ready for you.

Ty lee: why are you talking like you're dead already?

Azula: Because I am. And because It's my fault you're in danger. I roped you into this. You were happy. You were safe. I took that away.

Ty lee: And you think I love you so little that I'd let you die just like that? Lala, you're coming with me, so is Mai.

Azula: Are you sure? You realize how much riskier it makes things?

Ty lee: I'm not losing you.

Azula: very well.

They share a heartfelt hug and Azula apologizes.

After talking Mai into it, they go to harbor city. Azula stages a failed assasination of her last target and starts a huge fire at the bay. They commandeer a small cruiser and fudge the books at the docks to make it look like it sank in the fire.

Zuko realizes Azula's last job went awry. Mai is nowhere to be seen. The three dangerous ladies are branded traitors and framed for Ozai's murder.

With the propaganda machine in full swing, Zuko plans his next move. Ba sing se might revolt.

The dangerous ladies are now in the earth kingdom, and with no idea where to go?

Ty lee: now what?

Azula: in the original plan, you arrived at kyoshi island and asked for asylum, claiming I forced you to do all the war stuff by threatening your family. But that won't work now.

Mai: so now what? I doubt Omashu would welcome us.

Azula takes a small dagger and cuts off her hair, leaving it shoulder length. She is then about to give her face a scar but ty lee stops her.

Ty lee: why?

Azula: people might believe me to be a refugee if I have scars. It will also reduce the resemblance, you know. To the multiple wanted posters.

Mai: your impromptu haircut does a lot already.

Ty lee: it looks really nice.

Mai: ugh, get a room.

Azula: She always says that, why?

Ty lee kisses Azula.

Azula: wait. You like me that way?

Ty lee: you didn't realize?

Azula: it was illegal back home. Ah fuck. All this time. Me too Ty Ty me too.

They kiss again.

Mai makes a gagging sound.

They end up at an inn, and their blood runs cold when they notice a certain blind earthbender...

@chaosmagetwin @krista-kritical

AU Idea

I think Azula's dream was basically that her brother would become Firelord, Mai would become his wife, Azula would be Princess, and maybe Ty Lee is somewhere around too. At the same time, even with Zuko as Firelord, Azula likes to imagine coexisting with him as an equal and be treated as such.

What if the dog caught the car? What if Azula helped Zuko become Firelord and it ended very poorly for her? What if it turned out that he not only refused to treat her as an equal but also was extremely suspicious of her and constantly thought she was trying to usurp the throne? What if she ended up exiled or a fugitive because of it?

[bloumiiss]

“The hands that cradled your face and tilted it upward to kiss your forehead are soaked in unfathomable quantities of blood.”

“But they cradled me, yes?”

I got really into the theory of the apple (from that one image from the beast yeast chapter 7/8 leaks) being the fruit of knowledge. And I thought, what if Pure Vanilla takes a bite out of it? (*^▽^)/★*☆♪

So here’s an artwork where Pure Vanilla is slowly going insane after taking a bite, and all Shadow Milk can do is hold him as he succumbs to the same insanity that claimed him so long ago. Fun stuff, am I right? ((o(^∇^)o))

[grimfantas]

a kiss for good luck

[lunefuforu]

some new cookie run ocs I forgot to share :3

Macadamia Milk Cookie (she's a selkie!) and Golden Wheat Cookie (he's a golden retriever)

[chiaraeliz]

some people were talking about green eyed ventus on my last post which then led me to think about how i draw ven and roxas differently, which THEN led me to go on a lil character analysis tangent (below the cut if you wanna read!)

but for how i draw them differently, i still try to keep them pretty much identical in physical appearance! minus green eyes for ventus, but that’s more because he just feels like he needs green eyes. the main difference i think is fun to play with is how they carry themselves, which leads into my ven and roxas character analysis ramblings:

i haven’t been the most active in the kingdom hearts fandom in recent years, but i remember the big headcanons for roxas and ventus always were that roxas is really angry/a little shit, while ventus was always seen as the pure/sweet one. i like to think of them as a bit more nuanced than that based off of canon, though!

i think roxas is more mellow/not extremely outwardly emotional unless provoked to be. i mean, there’s a whole game where roxas learns to understand himself, his relationships, and his emotions. i get how the angry headcanon came about from canon, but really all the moments where he is REALLY pissed off, it’s super warranted and not necessarily a main personality trait of his. instead, he just gives off a sort of quiet maturity to me (even though he’s one of the youngest characters lol. bros been through a lot)

in comparison, ventus always seemed more… energetic with both his positive and negative emotions. we see that right from the start with him in bbs with the meteor shower, and when he gets a lil salty over being told to take grown ups to disney town (i could definitely think of better examples but it’s 12 am and i’m tired). he feels a bit more immature, especially when put next to terra and aqua. hell, ven reminds me of sora way more than roxas does. we see the ups and downs of his emotions very clearly. in a way he feels younger than roxas with the way he carries himself. (this isn’t me saying he’s an uwu baby who Needs To Be Protected, but more that he projects his feelings in a more direct way imo). also, jesse mccartney voices ventus with a higher pitch and more energy than roxas (i love this detail so much)

all this to say, while i do think the angry roxas and super sweet ventus content is great and i enjoy seeing it from time to time (i might even play into it with my art sometimes tbh), i personally see them as less of those extremes. i like to see ventus as the high energy one, and roxas as the lower energy one, without dictating one emotion as their default. this isn’t really anything groundbreaking (and could probably just be a “duh chiara we all knew this” moment) but i just felt like rambling about them because i like to think about them a lot! (i’m sorry if i got anything wrong or if things are worded weird, i’m about to fall asleep rn)

[ryctone]

Okay was NO ONE going to tell me these two

Share the SAME VOICE ACTOR?

[galactic-feelins]

Roxas from the Runaway City AU, and we're finally at the image that made me what to document these in the first place

Image taken Oct 18, 2023

[goldensunset]

share ur theories abt khml pleaseeeee im dying over here

ok ok i’m thinking. i’m thinking ummmm

so as pointed out in this post it’s odd that master’s defender is on freya’s weird conspiracy board/wall. seems like she’s gathering and analyzing important things to try to figure something out, right? so what’s particularly and immediately relevant about the founder’s keyblade?

i’m feeling like master’s defender is either 1. missing (even stolen), like that post was talking about or 2. they know exactly where it is but there’s something weird going on with it lately. like is it really just a regular keyblade? surely not

basically i can easily see this item as being central to whatever the conflict of this game is about. it is The Missing Link™️. like it’s clearly culturally very important to the people of scala bc their founder wielded it and he’s been immortalized in a statue holding it, and we know its history (having come from brain, who got it from ava, who may or may not have gotten it from MoM bc of the insignia) is a plenty interesting one. so there’s a lot they can do with it here

we also know its future is clearly an interesting and relevant one because eraqus inherits it. we can be absolutely certain without a doubt it was a nepotism thing as opposed to merit bc it’s been pointed out that he’s a blueblood and also there’s no way that doofus earned it by his own right or whatever lol. so like… khml is surely gonna feature the themes of bloodlines and inheritance, right?

but it’s super interesting bc (presumably) eraqus’s ancestor is brain, right? i mean he could possibly have dual lineage and also be related to ephemer at this point but like i feel like what they’ve been going for all along is that it’s brain. but then you consider how if master’s defender is associated with ephemer then surely his (main) bloodline would be the ones inheriting this keyblade right? assuming they don’t like have it in a museum being treated like a relic or whatever. (also assuming the one ephemer’s statue is holding isn’t literally the keyblade itself baked in there but that’s a thought tangent for another time)

my point being. it seems odd that eraqus would end up with it. that his ancestors would have it. and therefore i’m thinking possibly part of the plot of the game is that brain takes it for himself or something. i mean like it was his first and ephemer himself was like ‘ok i’ll take it but in my mind it still belongs to you’. would it really be in character for brain to steal like that? dunno. but there are a multitude of ways it might go down

like maybe it’s a national treasure-esque situation where he steals it to prevent someone else from stealing it. like he’s just holding onto it for safekeeping and ends up keeping it. alternatively he takes it bc there’s something weird happening with it and he wants to solve the mystery. basically this is how ‘brain gets arrested’ becomes real

much to think about