#✧. ch. ⎯ the surface where flame casts deep shadow.

[therogueflame]

The Bronze Reign Chapter 6 - Of Ancestors and Ash

hi beautiful babies!

okay fuck it i want attention so im posting this early. ch 6 was so fun to write, and i am SO EXCITED for you guys to read ch 7. its slated to come out on my birthday so expect a spicy chapter hehehe. Very little dialogue, lots of introspection and atmospheric building. yes i know it is short. you will be okay. next week's is literally twice as long. i did edit this before posting (everyone cheers) :D Enjoy!

The song for this chapter is Elegy by Lisa Gerrard and Patrick Cassidy

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Summary: Dragonstone is waiting. The mountain breathes, the dragons watch, and the fire does not forget.

WC: 5.1k

Warnings: 18+, Daemon Targaryen, Slow Burn, Angst, Loneliness

previous chapter

MDNI!

The journey across Blackwater Bay had been uneventful, but the weight in Vysaria’s chest had only grown heavier with every passing mile. She stood at the prow of the ship, watching as Dragonstone emerged from the mist, its jagged peaks rising from the sea like the blackened bones of some ancient beast. The castle loomed above the waves, carved into the mountain itself, its towers twisting into the sky. The stone was darker than she remembered, as if the fires beneath the island had stained it with their heat. The closer they drew, the more she could feel it, the pulse of something ancient, something alive beneath the surface.

The scent of sulfur clung to the salt air, thick and heavy, coiling in the back of her throat. This was not King’s Landing. There were no sprawling streets, no golden towers, no bustling docks filled with merchants and traders. There was only stone, smoke, and the slow, rhythmic crash of waves against the cliffs. The sea was restless today, the water churning beneath the hull of the ship, waves breaking against the black rock of the island with relentless force. The wind howled through the stone peaks, a haunting sound that sent a shiver down her spine.

Dragonstone had never been meant for comfort. It was carved from fire and fury, a place built not for kings who ruled from velvet-draped thrones but for conquerors who rode beasts of flame. She had imagined this moment before, years ago, when she was younger, when she had not yet stood before the dragons and walked away with nothing. When the idea of Dragonstone had not yet tasted like failure. Now, standing at the edge of the ship, watching as the harbor neared, she felt nothing but the weight of what was to come.

The crew worked swiftly, lowering the gangplank as the ship eased into place. A few sailors cast her uncertain glances, as if wondering whether she would hesitate. She did not. She moved forward without a word, descending onto the docks with careful, measured steps. The moment her boots touched the worn planks, she felt it, the shift, the severing. The last tie to King’s Landing slipping away.

There was no grand welcome, no gathered court, only a handful of figures standing at the edge of the docks, their faces shadowed in the morning light. The steward of Dragonstone, an older man with weathered features and a measured expression, stepped forward first. He bowed, deep but without warmth.

"Princess," he said, voice steady. "Welcome to Dragonstone."

The welcome was formal, but nothing more. Behind him, a small retinue of household attendants, guards, and castle servants waited in stiff silence. They bowed, but none held her gaze for long. There was no hushed awe, no open curiosity. Only duty. She had been expected. That was all.

Her gaze flickered beyond them to where a group of dragonkeepers stood a distance away, clad in dark leathers, their faces unreadable. They did not approach. They only watched. The island was watching her.

Vysaria forced her shoulders back, lifting her chin as she met the steward’s gaze. "The castle has been prepared?"

"It has," he confirmed. "Your chambers are ready, and the maesters stand at your disposal should you have need of them."

She nodded, glancing briefly toward the towering keep. It was colder than she remembered, despite the heat simmering beneath the island. The castle itself seemed to breathe, the mountain rumbling deep within its core, a reminder that fire still lived beneath the stone.

"Your things will be sent ahead," the steward continued. "If you wish, I can arrange for a tour of the castle, though I imagine you are already familiar with its halls."

Familiar. The word felt strange. She had been here before, had run through these corridors as a child, following Daemon’s shadow like a second one. But it had been years since then, and this place did not belong to her anymore.

"No need," she said. "I will find my own way."

The steward hesitated but nodded. "As you wish."

Vysaria turned toward the path leading up to the castle, the stone steps carved directly into the mountain. The climb was steep, the wind tearing at the edges of her cloak, but she did not slow. The attendants followed at a respectful distance, but no one spoke. She reached the top and paused just outside the castle gates, her gaze sweeping across the courtyard. The familiar statues loomed, their stone dragons worn smooth by centuries of wind and rain. The great keep rose before her, its towers disappearing into the mist. The air smelled of ash and rain, of something old and waiting.

She had returned, but no one was waiting. No lords to bow at her feet. No father with reassuring words. No mother to promise that all would be well. Only the hollow castle, the quiet keepers, and the distant, echoing sound of something low and primal.

The stone halls swallowed her footsteps as she moved deeper into the castle. Dragonstone was quiet in a way King’s Landing had never been. No bustling courtiers whispering in alcoves, no servants hurrying through their tasks, no distant hum of city life filtering through the windows. Only silence, stretching unbroken, save for the occasional gust of wind howling through the corridors or the low crackle of a dying torch.

Her chambers had been prepared, just as the steward had said. The hearth was lit, the heavy drapes drawn back to let in the gray morning light. A trunk sat at the foot of the bed, unopened. The room was large but unadorned, its walls carved with twisting dragons that seemed to watch her from every corner.

She did not linger. The bed remained untouched, the fire crackled quietly in the grate. The weight of it all settled deep in her chest.

She had come here alone, without attendants or ladies, without the company of those who might soften the edges of exile. She had thought she wanted that—freedom from the whispers, from the weight of expectation. But Dragonstone was not freedom. It was something else entirely.

By the time she stepped out of her chambers, the halls were as silent as before. The maester’s chambers were in the eastern wing, tucked away behind a heavy wooden door lined with iron bands. She did not knock. The door creaked open, revealing shelves lined with old scrolls and weathered tomes, the air thick with the scent of dust and parchment. The maester, an older man with thinning silver hair, glanced up from his writing, his quill hovering over the page.

"Princess," he greeted, his tone polite, if mildly surprised. "What may I do for you?"

"I need records," she said without preamble. "Scrolls. Texts on Old Valyria. On dragonlore. Anything of value."

The maester hesitated only briefly before inclining his head. "There are many such texts, though few that hold truths rather than myths. If it is knowledge you seek, you will find that history has a way of choosing which pieces to keep."

"Then I will read all of it," she said.

He studied her for a long moment, then nodded. "Very well." Rising from his seat, he gestured toward the far shelves. "Some are fragile with age. They will need care."

"I will handle them carefully."

The maester moved, gathering what he could find, setting them in neat stacks before her. The bindings were old, the parchment brittle beneath her fingertips. She did not know what she was looking for, only that she needed something to occupy her mind.

She would read. She would learn. And perhaps, somewhere in the faded ink and forgotten records, she would find what she was meant to do next.

The first week unraveled in slow, measured days. Vysaria read until the words blurred, absorbing fragments of Valyrian history, forgotten customs, and old dragonlore, but none of it silenced the unease settling in her chest. She filled her hours with study, sending for more scrolls, more records, anything that might offer clarity. Some were so ancient the ink had nearly vanished, the parchment crumbling at the edges, yet she pored over them all the same. But knowledge was a poor companion. It did not speak. It did not fill the silence.

Dragonstone loomed vast and hollow, its corridors stretching long and empty, its silence pooling in the spaces where voices should have been. The Red Keep had been alive, full of whispers and movement, the ever-present hum of power shifting beneath polished floors. Here, there was only stillness. Each morning, she walked the great halls, trailing her fingers over the stone-carved dragons coiled along the pillars and walls. They watched, but they did not answer. Cold, eternal, unmoving.

She saw no one beyond the servants who drifted through the keep like specters, their steps soft, their eyes averted. They bowed as they passed, then slipped away before she could speak. It was not fear. It was something else. A carefulness, a quiet restraint. As though they were waiting. For what, she did not yet know.

The air was thick with the scent of the sea, the salt clinging to her skin and hair. The mist curled through the castle’s open walkways, creeping in through high stone windows, wrapping around pillars like a living thing. It was colder than she expected, the wind cutting through the corridors and rustling the long banners that hung from the vaulted ceilings. The castle was not unwelcoming, not exactly. But it was not hers. It belonged to the dragons, to the conquerors who had come before her, to the ghosts of a dynasty that had ruled from fire and shadow.

She rode in the afternoons, taking her horse along the narrow paths that wound up the cliffs, searching for the highest point where the wind howled the loudest. The view stretched endlessly before her, the dark waves crashing against the blackened stone far below, the horizon swallowed by mist. But there was no freedom in it. No sense of escape. She had been sent here, not by her own will, and no matter how far she rode, she could not outrun the truth of it.

She wandered the halls at night, when the torches burned low and the silence became too much to ignore. The flickering flames sent dragon-shaped shadows crawling across the walls, twisting and shifting as if they were alive. Sometimes, her steps carried her beyond the keep, following the worn path toward the base of the mountain. The ground beneath her boots radiated warmth, a slow and steady pulse rising from the depths. She would stand there, the wind tearing through the cliffs, listening for something beyond the quiet, waiting for a voice that never came.

She spent her nights reading, poring over accounts of the first Valyrians, the dragonlords who had shaped empires with fire and blood. She traced the faded ink of maps detailing lost lands, ruins swallowed by time. She read the names of dragons long dead, their bones left behind as relics of a vanished age. There were records of hatchlings that never grew, of would-be riders who reached for a bond that never came. Some had called and received no answer. She read their stories over and over, though she did not know why.

Days passed with no change, no shift, only the heavy weight of time pressing against her, smothering her beneath its stillness. The castle, vast and sprawling, felt more like a tomb than a home, and despite the books, despite the endless hours spent wandering the halls, the isolation crept beneath her skin like a sickness.

She felt it most at night.Lying awake in the great chamber that had been prepared for her, she listened to the wind howl through the narrow windows, rattling the shutters, filling the darkness with its restless song. The air smelled of salt and stone, of something deeper, something old. When she closed her eyes, she could feel the mountain beneath her, the slow, rhythmic pulse of heat rising from its heart. The dragons were there, deep within the island, their presence a constant thing just out of reach. She knew they were watching her. Waiting, just as everyone else seemed to be.

The servants, the guards, the dragonkeepers—they all observed her, though never openly. Their eyes lingered when they thought she would not notice, their gazes shifting when she turned to meet them. The maester answered her questions without question, provided her with scrolls and books upon request, but she could sense the unspoken words behind his careful replies.

They were all waiting. She could not decide whether it angered her or unsettled her. She could not pretend forever.

One afternoon, while wandering the eastern wing of the castle, she passed a pair of servants speaking in hushed tones. They did not notice her at first, too absorbed in their conversation, but when they did, they fell silent. A tense pause stretched between them before one lowered his head respectfully.

“My lady,” he murmured before stepping away, the other following quickly behind.

Vysaria did not acknowledge them, her steps never faltering, but her thoughts lingered on their expressions and the quiet words she had caught just before they noticed her.

"The dragonkeepers have been busy."

The words followed her as she left the corridor.

It was nothing. An idle remark, a passing comment between those who served the castle. And yet, it settled in her chest like a stone dropped into still water, rippling outward, touching something she had tried to bury beneath layers of distraction.

That night, she dreamed of wings.

She stood in the middle of a great, scorched field, the air thick with smoke, the ground blackened beneath her feet. The sky stretched endlessly above, gray and endless, swirling with heat, but there was no sun. She could hear them before she saw them, the deep, guttural sound of something ancient breathing, the slow rasp of scales shifting against stone. A shape moved in the distance, massive, coiling through the smoke like a shadow with no form.

She called to it, but no sound left her lips.

When she woke, the room was dark, the only light coming from the embers smoldering low in the hearth. The wind rattled the windows, the distant storm churning the sea beyond the cliffs, but that was not what had woken her.

Her heart pounded. Her skin burned.

She sat up, breath quick, fingers curling in the sheets. The dream clung to her, vivid and unshaken, but it was not the dream itself that left her restless. It was the feeling that something had shifted.

The next morning, she rose with a purpose she could not name. She did not reach for a book or lose herself in scrolls. She did not wander the halls or take her horse along the cliffs. Instead, she stood at the window, staring down at the path that wound beyond the courtyard, past the lower terraces, toward the Dragonmont.

She had spent days avoiding this, pretending she could ignore it, that she could fill the hours with something else. That she did not have to face what had been waiting for her since the moment she arrived.

She had read the stories, had memorized the histories, had studied every name of every dragon who had ever soared across these skies, and yet none of it mattered if she did not take the next step. She could not stay in this limbo forever.

She left her chambers without hesitation, her steps steady, her breath even. The servants she passed turned their heads as she moved through the corridors, as if sensing something different, as if sensing that today, something was about to change. 

She crossed the courtyard without stopping, her pace unwavering, the black stone warm beneath her boots. The further she walked, the more the heat grew, rising in the air, a slow, creeping burn that coiled around her like unseen hands.

The entrance to the Dragonmont loomed ahead, an archway carved from the mountain itself, its threshold dark and yawning, leading down into the depths where fire still slept. The dragonkeepers at its edges straightened as she approached, gripping their staffs, the sharp ends catching the dim light. None moved to stop her. She did not look at them.

She stepped forward, past the threshold, past the last remnants of the world above, and into the shadows beyond. The air in the Dragonmont pulsed with heat, thick and stifling as it curled around her skin, seeping into the stone beneath her feet, into the very marrow of the mountain. The deeper she walked, the more it surrounded her. The walls, scorched and worn by centuries of fire, flickered with veins of molten rock, casting an eerie glow through the cavernous tunnels. The sound of breathing filled the space, slow and deep, rising from the unseen depths. It was not human. It was too vast, too ancient, something primordial and waiting.

She hesitated for the first time. The descent had been easy, her feet moving with purpose, her mind set on this path. But now, standing here, feeling the pulse of the mountain beneath her, the sheer scale of what she was about to face pressed against her ribs. The dragons were here. She had heard them before, distant, calling through the skies, their cries carried by the wind. But this was different. The sound of them, the heat of them, the sheer force of their presence wrapped around her, pressing against her lungs, making it hard to breathe.

She was no longer in a castle of men. She was in their domain now.

For a long moment, she did not move. Then, from the depths of the cavern, she heard it. A low, rumbling growl, deeper than the others, vibrating through the stone, rattling through her chest like distant thunder. A warning. Or a challenge. She exhaled slowly, willing her pulse to steady, forcing her fingers to remain still at her sides. She had come here for a reason, and she would not leave without seeing them. Without facing them. She took another step forward.

Far above, the skies trembled with the sound of wings. The wind howled through the cliffs, the sea churned restlessly below, but the island remained still. The sentries at the castle gates lifted their heads, hands tightening around the hilts of their swords, though none moved to draw them. They knew that sound. The steady, rhythmic beating of great wings. The sharp, piercing cry that cut through the air, high and keening, like a blade through silk.

Caraxes.

The Blood Wyrm descended from the clouds, his massive, serpentine body twisting through the sky, red wings unfurling as he angled his descent. The moment his claws struck the stone of the courtyard, the earth seemed to shudder beneath his weight, dust rising in thick clouds. He moved with slow, measured grace, long neck curving as he let out a low, guttural snarl, steam curling from his nostrils. The guards did not speak. They did not need to. There was no fear among them, only the quiet recognition that came with familiarity. Caraxes had flown these skies too many times for his arrival to be cause for alarm.

Elsewhere, beneath the mountain, the air remained thick and unmoving. The heat pressed against the walls, seeping into the stone, pulsing through the cavernous tunnels like a heartbeat slowed to a crawl. In the stillness, nothing stirred. No voices, no sound beyond the distant crackling of molten rock far below. The weight of the mountain muffled the world outside, swallowing whatever storm might have raged beyond its walls, whatever force had descended upon the castle. Here, deep within the heart of Dragonstone, there was only silence.

Daemon slid from the saddle with practiced ease, landing lightly on the scorched ground, one hand idly stroking the ridges of Caraxes’ neck. The dragon let out a final snort before stilling, his great golden eyes flickering toward the castle ahead. Daemon did not immediately follow his gaze. He stood there for a moment, rolling his shoulders, as if shaking off the long flight, as if reacquainting himself with the place he had not seen in too long. He had returned to Dragonstone before, but it had never been like this.

The wind carried the scent of salt and fire, the distant heat of the mountain threading through the air. He scanned the castle with an assessing gaze, noting the changes in its silence, in the absence of those who should have been present. The wind carried the scent of salt and fire, the distant heat of the mountain threading through the air. He scanned the castle with an assessing gaze, noting the shifts in its silence, the absence of those who should have been present. No sigils marked his arrival, no hurried steps echoed through the courtyard to receive him. The castle was not abandoned, yet it felt unnervingly still. He had expected that. What he had not expected was the unease woven into it, subtle but lingering, like something left unsaid.

He had come to Dragonstone before, seeking solitude, seeking distance from the court and its endless demands. It had always given him what he sought. This time, it was different. He could sense it before he had even landed, a shift in the air, something lingering just beyond his reach. He had not sent word ahead of his arrival, but he had no doubt that those within the castle had already been informed. The dragonkeepers would have heard Caraxes long before he had touched the ground.

A steward approached, cautious but composed. “Prince Daemon,” he greeted with a measured bow. “We did not know you were coming.”

“I did not know I was coming until I left,” Daemon replied idly, his gaze still drifting toward the castle’s high walls. “I assume I am not unwelcome.”

The steward hesitated for the briefest moment before shaking his head. “Of course not, my prince.”

Daemon nodded once, barely listening as the man spoke of rooms being prepared, of the castle’s upkeep, of whatever trivial details he assumed might matter. None of it did. His mind was already elsewhere, reaching beyond the moment, beyond the walls around him. Something was off. It was not obvious, not enough to name, but it clung to the air, subtle and unshaken. It was in the way the servants moved, quick and restrained, in the way the guards held their posts yet avoided his gaze. He had expected Dragonstone to greet him as it always had. It did not.

The deeper she walked, the hotter the air became. The warmth that had been subtle at the entrance now wrapped around her fully, sinking into her skin, pressing against her lungs. The tunnels were vast, their walls streaked with blackened stone and glowing veins of molten rock, remnants of a time when the mountain had not yet been tamed. The flickering light cast shifting shadows along the walls, their shapes twisting like living things, like the dragons who had once ruled these depths unchallenged.

She did not know how long she had been walking. The descent had been slow, careful, each step measured against the uneven stone. The path was carved from the mountain itself, winding downward in great spirals, its purpose clear. This was no mere cavern. It was a domain built for creatures far older, far larger than herself. She paused at a widening in the tunnel, her gaze sweeping over the walls, over the deep claw marks etched into the rock. Not man-made. Not shaped by tools. This was a place where dragons had once walked freely, leaving their presence behind in ways that would never fade. The sheer weight of history pressed against her, thick as the heat curling through the air.

Her heartbeat was steady, but there was something else now, something restless beneath her skin. She had always felt it, in some way or another, since the moment she had set foot on Dragonstone. A sense of expectation, of something lingering just beyond reach. The knowledge that this place, this mountain, was waiting for her to make a choice.

The ground rumbled beneath her feet, subtle but undeniable. A sound, distant but real, rumbled through the tunnels ahead—a shift in breath, in movement. Not one dragon, but many. The air changed. She swallowed, tilting her head slightly, listening. The sound of her own breath, the faint crackle of molten veins in the rock, the shifting of scales against stone. They were close.

She moved forward, deeper into the tunnels, her steps quieter now, slower. The heat became overwhelming, beads of sweat forming at the nape of her neck, but she ignored it. The walls seemed to pulse, carrying the living heartbeat of the mountain itself. The flickering veins of fire within the stone cast an eerie red glow across her skin as she passed.

The passage opened ahead of her, revealing the first chamber. It was vast, wider than the great hall of the Red Keep, its ceiling lost to darkness above. The walls bore deep scorches, places where fire had blackened the stone beyond recognition. And there, in the farthest reaches of the cavern, shifting against the deep shadows, were the dragons. Their massive forms coiled in the dim light, their breath rising in slow, steady clouds of heat. Their scales caught the faint glow of the molten rock, shimmering in hues of deep crimson, midnight black, and burnished gold. Some were still, their great wings folded neatly at their sides, their tails curled around themselves. Others shifted, their heads lifting slightly, nostrils flaring as they caught the scent of something unfamiliar.

Her.

A few of the smaller dragons moved first, their golden eyes fixing on her, blinking slowly. They were not young, not hatchlings, but they were not the behemoths of old either. They watched, assessing, but did not stir beyond that.

Then came the growl. Low and resonant, a sound that rumbled through the stone, settling deep in her chest. It was ancient, carrying the weight of years, of fire and war, of a creature that had ruled the skies long before her name had ever been spoken. Her breath caught, her steps faltering as she turned toward the sound.

The shadows shifted. From the darkness, something vast stirred. He emerged, his sheer size enough to make the air quiver. Scales dark as aged bronze, wings edged in gold, a massive head lifting as golden eyes locked onto her, steady and unreadable.

Vermithor.

She did not move. Neither did he. The air was charged, thick with something she could not name. He exhaled, slow and steady, the sound rolling through the cavern like distant thunder, his breath washing over her in a wave of heat. She should have stepped back. She should have lowered her gaze, shown deference to the king who stood before her. She didn’t. She held his stare, feeling the weight of his presence press down on her like an undeniable force.

The air around them was thick with an unspoken tension. He exhaled slowly, the sound like distant thunder, the warmth of his breath brushing against her skin. She should have stepped back. She should have bowed her head, lowered her gaze. But she didn’t. She stood there, meeting his eyes, feeling the weight of his stare press down on her like fire. She had come here to face him. And she would not look away.

Vermithor did not move. He did not rise, did not lash his tail, did not bare his teeth. He only watched, the low rumble of his breathing filling the chamber. His golden eyes, sharp and endless, flickered over her, measuring something unseen.

Vysaria did not speak. There were no words that would matter here. Words were for men, for courts and councils, for halls filled with expectation and judgment. Here, in the belly of the mountain, words were nothing. The dragons spoke a different language, one of breath and presence, of fire and fearlessness.

She took another step forward, slow but deliberate, her boots scraping against the uneven stone. Vermithor’s nostrils flared, his head tilting ever so slightly, the great golden eyes narrowing as if to say, Are you certain? She did not know if she was. She did not know what she was supposed to do next. But she had spent her life following the rules set before her, walking the path carved by men who had never held the weight of expectation the way she had. If she was to carve her own path, it would begin here.

Heat curled through her lungs, not from fear, but from something deeper, something that hummed beneath her skin. The cavern had fallen silent, as if the other dragons had stilled in anticipation.

Then, he moved. It was not a threat, not a warning, but a shift, a slow unfolding of something immense. His great body lifted slightly, wings shifting, the sound of scales brushing against stone sending a ripple of tension through her spine. She stood rooted in place, watching, waiting. His head lowered just enough for her to see the ridges along his snout, the deep, jagged scars marking the edges of his jaw.

For the first time, she truly understood what she was standing before. This was not an opportunity to be seized, not a choice made by her alone. Vermithor had ruled these caverns long before she had drawn breath, long before her ancestors had claimed the skies. He had nothing to prove to her. It was she who needed to prove herself to him.

A muscle in her jaw tightened. She exhaled, steadying herself, hands at her sides, fingers curling slightly. She did not kneel. She did not bow. She simply stood, waiting.

The moment stretched. The fire in the mountain burned, the heat pressing against her skin. Then, finally, Vermithor exhaled, his great golden eyes still locked on hers. He did not move forward, but he did not turn away. Neither did she.

Behind her, deep within the tunnels she had left behind, a gust of wind stirred the dust along the stone, faint but unmistakable. Daemon Targaryen had entered the mountain.

She did not hear him, did not sense him, too lost in the presence before her. But the moment would not last. The world beyond these caverns was shifting, and soon, she would have no choice but to turn back toward it.

next chapter

All roads lead to war. Read ahead on AO3 (Ch 1–22).

[sofiamerliah]

Why ???

Ch-1 You Must Go

The setting of the story -

Pandavas lost their Kingdom in the Game of Dice, Draupadi was humiliated and they were asked to go for Exile for 12 years and 1 year in Incognito.

When the battlefield echoed with the clash between Shri Krishna and King Shalva, a poignant scene unfolded. In the midst of chaos, Rukmini's silent prayers filled the air, her unwavering faith weaving a symphony of hope amidst the looming shadows of misfortune.

Krishna and Rukmini sat together in the serene chambers of Dwarka's royal palace; the soft glow of the oil lamps bathed the room in a warm, golden light. The gentle flicker of the flames cast dancing shadows upon the walls, painting intricate patterns that seemed to sway and undulate with the rhythm of their conversation.

Rukmini gently tended to the minor wounds that Krishna had sustained during the battle against King Shalva. While she was doing her work, Krishna couldn't resist a playful quip, "You know, my dear, I'm not actually feeling any pain. I could easily use my divine powers to heal myself."

Rukmini chuckled softly, "Oh, Krishna," she said with a fond shake of her head, "always ready to remind me of your Godliness. But for just this moment, let us set aside our original roles and normally behave as human beings, sharing in each other's pains and cares. It feels nice sometimes."

Krishna's playful demeanor softened as he looked into Rukmini's eyes, his gaze filled with love and appreciation. "You're right, my beloved," he replied, his voice tender with affection. "In your hands, even the simplest act becomes sacred. Thanks for reminding me of the beauty of our shared humanity."

With a warm smile, Rukmini leaned in to place a gentle kiss on Krishna's cheek, a silent expression of their deep connection and shared love. Her touch was tender, her hands moving with practiced care as she cleaned and dressed the injuries.

As she worked, Rukmini's gaze fell upon Krishna's right hand, where a faded scar marred the smooth skin of his palm. Her breath caught in her throat as she traced the outline of the scar with her fingertips, a flood of memories washing over her.

With a soft sigh, Rukmini looked up at Krishna, her eyes filled with understanding and love. She knew that this scar was a reminder of a different incident, one where Draupadi had torn a piece of her cloth to bind Krishna's wound when he had injured his hand.

"Hrishikesh," Rukmini began softly, her voice filled with reverence, "this scar... it reminds me of the day Panchali bound your wound with a piece of her cloth, and you vowed to retain the debt to her."

Krishna met his wife's gaze with a gentle smile, his eyes reflecting the depth of his gratitude and admiration for Draupadi. "Indeed, Vaidarbhi," he replied, his voice tinged with reverence, "My Krishnaa holds a special place in my heart, and I will always be there to protect her, no matter the distance."

As Rukmini diligently tended to Krishna's wounds, her mind weighed heavy with unspoken thoughts and worries. Despite her efforts to maintain a calm demeanor, Krishna could sense her hesitance and sadness lingering beneath the surface.

Just as she reached for another jar of medicine, Krishna tenderly grasped her hand, his touch gentle yet firm. "Rukmini," he said softly, his eyes filled with warmth and concern, "I can sense that something troubles you. Please, share your burden with me. You know, you don't have to carry it alone."

Rukmini's heart swelled with emotion at Krishna's compassionate gesture, and she found herself unable to resist the urge to confide in him. With a heavy sigh, she met his gaze, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "Krishna," she began, her voice trembling slightly, "You are Omniscient, why do you ask me what troubles me when you already know?"

A gentle smile tugged at the corners of Krishna's lips as he reached out to wipe away a tear from Rukmini's cheek. "My dear," he replied tenderly, "your words speak volumes of your love and concern for me. Though I may possess Omniscience, your voice is the balm that soothes my soul, the anchor that grounds me in the realm of Humanity."

Rukmini smiled with tears as Krishna hugged her. The weight of the Pandavas' plight hung heavy in the air. Rukmini's heart ached for Draupadi, her friend and sister-in-law, who had suffered such indignity. With the wisdom of the divine coursing through him, Krishna listened intently to Rukmini's concerns.

"O Madhav," she began as she breaks from the embrace, her voice laced with sadness and anger, "my heart aches for the plight of the Pandavas. The deceitful acts of the Kauravas have brought nothing but suffering and injustice upon them."

Her eyes flashed with righteous anger as she continued, "To see our dear friends, who are noble and virtuous, subjected to such cruelty fills me with rage. It is unjust, it is unfair, and it is utterly heartbreaking."

"And Draupadi... What was her fault Keshav ?? Why she ??," Rukmini's voice laced with concern. "She is your most Beloved Friend and she is very much dear to me as well. So, please, take extra care of her. She is broken-hearted, and I fear she will not heed anyone's words except yours."

Krishna listened attentively, his own heart heavy with empathy for his Pandav Cousins and his Sakhi, Draupadi. He reached out to gently caress Rukmini's hand, offering her a silent gesture of comfort and support.

"Vaidarbhi," Krishna said softly, his voice filled with compassion, "I share in your sorrow and your anger. The actions of the Kauravas have indeed brought great suffering upon the Pandavas, and it pains me to see them endure such hardships."

He looked into Rukmini's eyes with unwavering resolve. "Don't worry, my love," he reassured her, "I will do everything in my power to ease the burdens of our dear Pandavas. I will go to their aid. Their trials have not gone unnoticed, and their cries for justice shall not be in vain."

"As for my Krishnaa, I will be her pillar of strength, Dearest," he assured her, his voice gentle yet resolute. "Her pain is no alien to me. She will find solace and strength in my presence, and together, we will navigate these troubled waters."

Rukmini's eyes softened with gratitude as she clasped Krishna's hand in hers. "Thank you, Madhusudan, you are the embodiment of compassion and strength," she whispered, her voice filled with love and appreciation. "With you by their side, I have no doubt that the Pandavas and Draupadi will find solace and hope."

Krishna pressed a kiss to Rukmini's forehead, his love for her shining brightly in his eyes. "You and I, both of us will guide our dear friends through the darkness and into the light, I promise," he vowed, his voice steady and sure.

With his assurance, Rukmini felt a glimmer of hope stirring within her heart. Though the road ahead was fraught with challenges, she found comfort in the knowledge that Krishna would be by their side, guiding them through the darkest of times.

Next Day, Krishna departed from Dwarka, his mind already weaving plans to comfort and support the Pandavas in their time of need. As Dwarkadhish and the Supreme Advisor and Guide to the Pandavas, he knew that his presence would bring solace and hope to their troubled souls.

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

As Krishna prepared to depart from Dwarka, Rukmini stood at the palace balcony, her heart heavy with foreboding. She watched as her beloved husband mounted his chariot, his divine presence radiant even from a distance. A sense of impending devastation lingered in the air... Despite her knowledge of her own divine nature as an avatar of the Supreme Goddess, Rukmini couldn't shake the overwhelming sense of concern that enveloped her.

It wasn't any fear for Krishna that troubled her, for she knew his true essence as the Almighty, free from the bonds of mortal attachments. Instead, but it was the emotional toll of the impending trials that weighed heavily on her heart. Even though Krishna transcended earthly emotions, Rukmini couldn't help but worry about the toll that witnessing the suffering of their friends would take on him.

Just then, Satyabhama, Rukmini's co-wife but dear sister and confidante, approached her with a concerned expression etched upon her features. Sensing Rukmini's distress, she reached out a comforting hand.

"Didi, what weighs so heavily on your mind?" Satyabhama inquired softly, her eyes filled with worry. "I can sense a deep sorrow within you, as if the winds of fate whisper of impending doom. Are u alright??"

Rukmini turned to Satyabhama, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "I am fine Bhama, just wondering that the ways of destiny are indeed strange," she began, her voice tinged with sadness. "Despite our best efforts, people still make choices that lead to destruction, blinded by their own desires and ego."

Satyabhama nodded in understanding, her expression grave. "Indeed, Didi, Karma is a relentless force," she murmured, her voice tinged with bitterness. "Those who sow seeds of injustice shall reap the whirlwind of their actions. Time is a merciless arbiter, and none can escape its judgment."

Rukmini took a moment to absorb Satyabhama's words, her heart heavy with the weight of truth. "We can only hope and pray that righteousness prevails in the end," she said, her voice filled with determination. "May Vaasudev guide us through these turbulent times, and may justice be served to those who deserve it."

"Don't worry, Didi," Satyabhama said, her voice filled with unwavering confidence. "Our Vaasudev, the protector of all, will weave his divine canvas of protection. He won't allow the shadows of despair to darken our path or cast their pall over those we hold dear." With a reassuring smile, she placed a gentle hand on Rukmini's trembling shoulder, her gaze alight with steadfast belief in the omnipotent love of their husband. "His divine embrace, painted with strokes of love and compassion, will shield us from harm and guide us through the darkest of nights."

"My dear Bhama," Rukmini began, her voice tinged with concern, "while I have faith in Krishna's divine protection, I cannot shake the worry that gnaws at my heart. I am troubled by the emotional toll these trials may take on him. Despite his divine nature, witnessing the suffering of our dear friends will surely affect him deeply." She sighed softly, "I pray that amidst the challenges ahead, Madhav finds the strength and solace he needs to endure," she added, her voice filled with a mixture of hope and apprehension.

Satyabhama listened attentively to Rukmini's words, her expression thoughtful as she considered her sister's concerns. Placing a reassuring hand on Rukmini's arm, she spoke with quiet conviction. "Let us place our trust in Vaasudev's infinite wisdom and love," Satyabhama continued, her voice filled with conviction. "For in his divine hands, even the greatest trials can be transformed into opportunities for growth and redemption."

Rukmini nodded to Satyabhama's words, faintly smiling. With a shared understanding of the harsh realities of life, Rukmini and Satyabhama watched as Krishna's chariot disappeared into the horizon.

But the Dwarkeshwari felt a pang of sorrow deep within. Her heart clenched with a sense of helplessness. Though she understood the nature of Krishna's divine mission, her love for him compelled her to worry about his emotional well-being; and also about the specter of impending doom loomed large in her mind, casting a shadow over her optimism. She could only hope that her Krishna, in his infinite wisdom, would find solace and strength amidst the darkness, even as she prayed fervently that Krishna would return unscathed from the trials that lay ahead....

➽─────────────❥➽─────────────❥

The next chapter is very close to my heart. It will be updated soon. This is one of my favourite moments in Mahabharat. I know this chapter is long but Please enjoy 😁

[diddlesanddoodles]

DUMPLING ch 60

The trees were shapeless shadows against the night as she ran as fast as her legs could carry her. Blood pumped hard in her ears, and even with her gasping breaths, she could still hear them coming for her. Beneath her feet, she could feel their heavy footfalls as they crashed into the earth, and it was as though the very ground vibrated. Seven of her steps to one of their own, and even at a slower pace, their wider strides more than made up for the difference.

Her saving grace was the narrow gaps between the ancient trees. Additionally, her pursuers were just as hindered by the dark as she was. If she used her fire, she would reveal herself and her advantage would be lost. As it stood, she was not in a good position to face off against a large group of bloodthirsty giants.

She was lucky before, she doubted any chance at a repeat performance. The others had not expected their fellow to fall as easily as he did.

As Thrist fled with Jae, Nenani had turned to face the marauding group that attacked them and left Andy dead. The giant with the dagger had rushed her. His enormous frame had been cast in deep shadows against the stark white of her flames. He barreled towards her, dagger raised and shining. The blade was nearly as long as she was tall, glittering with the white and blue of her fire.

Nenani ran to one of the closer trees, whipping a vine back and upward towards the giant as he drew closer. Instinct rather than real calculation drove her. But it had been a lucky strike, with the end of her vine catching the edge of the giant’s jaw just as he passed. It curled around the back of his neck, and the thorns snagged into his flesh and began to slice as the vine pulled taught. The whites of his eyes grew large as he fell forward, dropping his dagger to reach for his neck as he fell. Nenani made it to the shelter of the tree just as he slammed into the earth, and the shock of it nearly threw her off her feet.

But Nenani did not bother to look back to gauge how devastating her hit had been. Instead, she ran onward, using his fellows’ momentary confusion and shock to her advantage. She had the barest head start before they began to follow after her. The height of their hubris was diminished, but not altogether extinguished.

And now they were angry.

“I thought you said you knew how to fight fire mages!” demanded one of them.

“I do!” snapped someone else. “Killed three during the war, but I never saw one do anything like that!”

“Then what fucking good are you?”

“Just shut up! New magic or not, it’s a damn child!”

“Go tell that to Baeu!”

“Sooner rather than later the little bitch is gonna lose steam,” snarled another giant. “And when we do catch her, I’m gonna pull each of her fucking limbs off one by one. And then peel her skin off.”

……………….

She was growing tired and slow, with her legs becoming clunky and dumb with fatigue. She found herself tripping over small twigs and mud holes until at last, she had to stop. Her lungs were on fire, and no amount of air seemed enough to satisfy them. Nenani huddled miserably under the heavy brush of a bush at the base of a small cluster of yearling trees. Their leaves were still thick and green, but their points were hard and thorn-like, gripping at her hair and dress and stabbing her hands and legs as she scrambled into them to hide.

The giants were moving as one group rather than splitting up, and their enraged prattling had not ceased. Nenani waited quietly under the prickly bush until she could breathe evenly again to move to another hiding spot.

Several times she dove for the cover of a bush and waited for them to move on before running back the direction she had come, just to try and throw them off her trail. Then the giants’ voices began to draw closer again.

In the dark, Nenani moved slowly in the other direction but continued to eye the brush and trees behind her. She was sure that any moment they would come into view and spot her and the chase would begin anew. But if she could keep her steps slow, perhaps they would not hear her at all and she could put more distance between them without having to kill anyone else.

The fleeting moment of power she had felt earlier in the day now tasted putrid and bitter.

A hand slipped through the dark to rest upon her shoulder. Nenani started, nearly leaping clear out of her skin as she whirled around, arms erupting into orange flames. There stood a human boy with short cut hair and grayish-green garb regarding her and her flames with a dour expression. It took her only a moment to recognize him as the boy in the tree who they had come across earlier.

The one who said she smelled like fire.

“Oh,” Nenani said, her flames dying away. “It’s you...”

“Come with me,” he whispered. The hand resting on her shoulder gripped hard, and he bodily steered her forward. She went without a fight, more out of bewilderment than anything, and by the time she came back to her senses enough to ask him anything, they were a good distance away.

“Where did you—” she began.

“Say nothing,” he warned in a harsh whisper. “Just keep moving. The tree with the hollow there. Go to it. Inside. Hide there.”

“I can’t see very well. And there are giants...”

“They won’t find you,” he said shortly and pushed her along at a quicker pace. She could see the dim outline of a large ironwood tree, the base of it wide and dark. When they got closer, Nenani could see better that the dark area was actually the hollow itself. She felt a hard push between her shoulders and fell forward. Gracelessly, she tumbled into the patch of wet leaves and muck, grimacing as her hands fell upon the slimy debris. Turning back to the boy, she opened her mouth to berate him, but he silenced her with a hand. With his other, he traced along the edges of the hallow, and a thin iridescent sheen fell across the opening. Through it, she could see the world beyond in better light. “No one will see you if I do not wish for them to. So long as you stay inside there, the charm will shade you from prying eyes.”

Nenani took a moment to watch the swirling colors, reminded of how light and colors danced across the surface of a soap bubble. She turned her eyes to the boy.

“Are you helping me?” she asked. “Why?”

“You are a walking wildfire,” he told her.

She blinked at him and frowned. “I’m sorry?”

“Left alone, you will burn my forest to the ground. I would fail in my duties to not stop that from happening,” he explained bitterly. He studied her for several moments and the severity of his expression softened. “But I also see a little of the Green Mother in you. It is very small, but it is there. Like that little boy who ate the ironwood sap. But your fire is far more a part of you than the green. Strange oddity, you are. You must have uncommon parentage.”

Though Nenani knew she should feel offended by the way he said ‘uncommon parentage’, she decided to ignore his tone.

“Our father,” Nenani answered. “He was Thorn.”

The boy gave a small nod in understanding, regarding her again with an enigmatic expression.

“I have knowledge of them. Lost cousins, we call them. So that makes us distant cousins as well I suppose,” he said at last, a spark of amusement in his eyes. He knelt down to her level. “I have never seen fire and earth merged into one being. Your magic was a wonder to behold, cousin. But there is a great imbalance in you.”

“Imbalance?” she asked. “What do you mean?”

“One side is pulling you to fire. Anger and fear and destruction. Revenge and blood. The other pulls you towards the Green Mother. Kindness and love and healing. Protection and trust.”

Nenani bit hard into her lip, his words ringing truth loudly in her head.

“Do not feed the fire so willingly,” he warned. “Fire is power, yes. But it is also unwieldy and short-lived if not tended and nurtured properly. Fire is a forever hungry beast, and no matter how much you feed it, it will never be satiated. It will take all of you until you have nothing left to give. You are on a path of destruction. Your fire will consume you if you allow it.”

Nenani looked down at her hands, just barely visible in the dark. “I need to be strong. I have to save my friends. My family. I can’t just do nothing. The...the giant who rules this place...the lord here. He is an evil man. The people you put in your gardens. That is his doing. They escaped his prisons. And there are others. Many.”

The boy regarded her for a long moment. “It is not my place to interfere with the affairs of outsiders. My priority is the safety of my people and the preservation of my forest. But this false lord concerns me greatly. There are giants all over my forest tonight. Fighting one another. Killing one another. I cannot breathe without smelling their blood, and I very much wish for them all to be gone.”

Nenani got to her knees and crawled closer to the barrier.

“Lord Colem came to help us,” Nenani explained. “He wants to bring Lord Brennan to justice. If we can do that, your forest will be yours again and we can rescue the people he has prisoner. My friends are already trying to free them. Could you help? You can do magic too. You’re a mage like me. Could you help us?”

“I cannot promise you anything,” the boy said, rising back to his feet and stepping back. “But we will make sure this forest is protected. When the spell drops away, it means you are safe to leave the hallow. Until then, stay inside. Regain your strength.”

“I can’t just sit here,” she replied. She pushed a hand towards the shimmering veil, but as he fingers brushed against it, her hand stopped as though pressing against glass. “What?”

“You should practice patience,” he suggested. “When the danger has been dealt with, the spell will fade.”

“No!” she snapped and began to bang her hands against the barrier. “Let me out!”

The boy tapped it with a finger. “You are a child who has wandered too far from her minders. You want to fight a foe as tall as the ironwoods who would snap you into bloody little splinters.”

“I’ve already killed two of them,” she shot back. “I’m not weak. I just need rest.”

“And I am giving it to you.”

“Not like this!”

“Do not mistake brutality for strength,” he quipped. “Stay here. Rest.”

“Fine!” she said. “But please! My friends are at the big house trying to save the humans there. If you can help them, please do it.”

“I will do what I must,” the boy said after a pause. “But I make no promises.”

As he turned to leave, Nenani called out. “Wait! One more thing. What’s your name?”

The boy tilted his head around just enough that she could see one green eye. “Ezra. And you, cousin?”

“I’m Nenani,” she replied.

“Like the river,” he said, the ghost of a smile creeping along his jawline. “I will leave you to rest, cousin Nenani. And heed my words about the fire.”

With great reluctance, she looked around her and at last nodded, giving into her fatigue. “Thank you, Ezra.”

With a nod, Ezra ran to a tree and scaled up the trunk as fast and as agile as a squirrel before disappearing into the branches above. She did as Ezra had instructed her to do and waited. For what seemed like hours, she waited, and as a deeper night fell upon the forest, Nenani found the pull of sleep pulling at her more and more.

It was not until she awoke to find the first whispers of dawn brightening the sky that she realized she had fallen asleep. For the briefest of moments, she did not know where she was and thought she was back in Vhasshal. But her chilled skin pulled her back to reality with a sickening crash.

The barrier was gone and the early morning quiet. Set just outside was a bright orange leaf, and set atop it was a pile of shriveled dark things. Picking one up to examine it, Nenani realized they were dried berries. She ate them quickly and with abject relish. Only after the fact did she realize it was probably not a very wise thing for her to eat random berries.

But if Ezra wanted to kill her, he was going about it in a very roundabout way. After she had finished her meager breakfast, she crawled out from the hollow and began to walk. She let her instincts guide her but still kept her eyes and ears open for any signs or sounds of giants. After a half hour, she came upon the first of them.

The vines had no thorns, but they were as thick as ropes and of such a deep green they almost appeared black. They snaked up from the ground in great numbers, wrapping around one foot and up the leg, squeezing hard against the body. They wound across the chest and under the arms, around each bicep, down to the wrists. Wrapped tightly around the neck, Nenani did not have to wonder what it was that had ultimately done the giant in. His lips were blue and his tongue swelled out from his mouth.

The giant was entangled with the vines against a large ironwood much in the same way the humans they had found had been. But instead of being preserved in a peaceful forever sleep, the giant’s remains were more akin to a warning than anything else. She did not linger.

After a few minutes' walk, Nenani came across another much in the same state and two more close by. As she studied the last one’s face, she marveled how someone who looked so human could behave like such a monster. Lost in her own musings, she did not hear the approaching footsteps. It was not till she heard the soft squish of damp leaves that Nenani turned to face the sound. Above her she saw the mouth of a large bag descending upon her, and then all at once, everything went dark. The walls pressed in as large hands gathered her and the bag up and into the air. She flailed and kicked at the fingers that held her and cried out.

“Easy there, little thing,” said a voice. “It’s dangerous out here all alone – OW!”

The rough spun fabric was dry and brittle and caught flames in mere seconds. The owner of the giant hands at the very least had the presence of mind to not immediately drop the flaming bag and instead quickly sat the whole bundle down very quickly.

The vertigo sent Nenani’s head spinning and she was tangled up in the charred remnants as she desperately swatted and pushed her way free. Arms still aflame, she scrambled to her feet and looked up to see an unfamiliar giant. Balls of fire materialized in her palms, but the giant was already putting a good bit of distance between her and himself.

“Gods above!” he squawked, nursing his singed fingertips and staring in open shock and fear at Nenani. “Why did you do that? I was just trying to help you! I didn’t mean no harm!”

Nenani glared. “Liar. You’re trying to capture me!”

The giant’s shock was rotating towards incredulity. “You could have said you were a fire mage!”

Nenani returned his incredulous look. “Who are you?”

“I’m the fella you just burned!” he snapped.

“Do better than that,” she snapped back. “Or I’ll do worse. So who are you? What do you want?”

The giant made a face and took several large steps back. “Captain told me to do a sweep for any stragglers and that’s what I’m doing. Cripes and crackers, I think you burned my finger prints off!”

Nenani paused. “Wait. Stragglers? What sort of stragglers?”

“Human stragglers!” he replied. He wasn’t even looking at Nenani anymore, seeming far too preoccupied with assessing the damage to his fingers. He stuck one in his mouth, wincing. “A few got lost in all the chaos of last night and we’re looking for them. I thought you were one, but clearly you’re…wait.”

The giant’s eyes widened and he turned them back to Nenani, seeing her in a new light. He pulled his hurt finger from his mouth. “You...you’re a fire mage.”

Nenani raised an eyebrow and looked pointed at the still flaming balls in her palms.

“I mean,” he continued. “That means…uh, well. You aren’t...the Princess by any chance, are you?”

Nenani eyed him more seriously. “Are you with Lord Colem’s men?”

The giant nodded. “I am.”

Nenani slowly lowered her hands. “Uh, then yes. I am. The princess I mean. Nenani. My name is Nenani.”

“But...I thought the rangers took you and the prince to safety already?” he asked. “What happened?”

“We were attacked. One of the rangers, Andy, he was killed,” she explained. “I told Thrist to get Jae to safety.”

The giant regarded her as though he thought very little of her actions. “Why didn’t you just go with him?”

“I could fend the attackers off better than Thrist could,” she answered.

The giant looked down at his fingers and back at her before his eyes drifted over to one of the dead giants still strung up in Ezra’s vines. “You...you did that then?”

“No,” she replied. “That was someone else.”

The giant shook his head in disbelief and ran a hand down his face. “Well, all that doesn't matter much right now. I need to get you back to camp and be quick about it. Our scouts reported earlier last night that the line we pushed back was a distraction and two more are sweeping in on our weaker side. Probably gonna try and take manor back. Colem won’t give it up easily.”

Nenani perked up. If they had taken the manor then surely Farris and Keral’s mission would have been successful. “Do you know if they were able to get the humans out? The ones down in the kitchens?”

“Most of them were moved last night,” the giant explained. “A lot of them aren’t too keen on us though, and a few ran off the moment they were free. I was to do a sweep to try and find them before Brennan’s men come through.”

Relief swept over her and she broke into a smile. “I’m glad,” she said quietly. “They did it then...”

He regarded Nenani cautiously and held his hands up. “Now, if you promise not to burst into flames, I can escort you back to the camp. As I was saying, those bastards are supposed to be coming through this way soon. I’d imagine these fellows all strung up were a scouting party.”

Nenani opened her mouth to answer when a rustling of foliage overhead drew both their gazes upwards. Pressed between the branches, Nenani spotted green gray garb and the now-familiar face of Ezra. He looked ragged and tired, and there were several rips along his sleeves.

“They are coming,” he said. “Many. We tried to slow their march, but we do not have the numbers. My people have moved away for their safety.”

“What the...” said the giant, squinting up at the human. “Who are…?”

“How close are they?” Nenani asked with renewed anxiety. “Ezra?”

The boy looked down at her with a defeated expression. “They will be upon you soon. You must flee from here, cousin. I am sorry. I did all we could.”

Before she could ask anything else, her ears pricked up as they caught a strange sound on the wind. Like a strong gale pushing trees. Her feet could feel the faint vibrations of many moving feet. An army on the march. 

Ezra looked off behind them and sneered before turning back to Nenani. “Leave now!” 

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BONUS ART

[greaterawarness]

Moveing On Ch. 11 The Shadow

Read full story here at AO3

Avayla

Cold. Dark. Empty. Avayla walks through the silent tunnel keeping her breathing under control. She could feel him in the darkness. Lurking, watching, waiting for her. The darkness around her feels like it could swallow her up if she let the flame in her hand burn out even for a moment.

“Avayla.”

This was not a voice in her head, nor a voice spoken through the Force. He was here. She steps into a large opening. Stepping further into the round room, there, sitting on what looks like a pedestal is a man with horns sprouting from his head. His skin is decorated in red and black markings. When his eyes open, she freezes, trapped in his gaze.

“Welcome, shaper.” He says to her. She swallows as she tightens her grip on her staff.

“You know what I am.” She says thankful her voice did not waiver.

“Of course. It was Mother Talzin who first discovered your people after fleeing from the Sith.” He says while standing. He walks down from his stage with his arms behind his back.

“What do you want with me?” She asks, holding her ground.

“I am in need of an apprentice,” He says in a soft but dark voice. “I sensed you through the Force. From there I knew you would be the one to aid me in my quest.”

“And what is your quest?” Avayla steps back when he turns to face her again.

“To destroy the Sith.” He says with furry in his eyes. His hate was so strong it burned almost as hot as actual flames. His emotions are so powerful that Avayla’s own emotions mirrored his.

“You want to destroy the Sith? Rex told me you were dangerous… But you only want to destroy the evil in the world.” Avayla thinks aloud.

“What I want is revenge,” he says as he walks around the room. “The Sith took everything from me. Used me and then cast me aside! I was left to rot, but I rose up from the ashes of my failures fueled by my hate.”

The room around them changes. She could see a battle. They used bright laser swords. One man almost looked familiar, but she couldn’t place the face. The other was the dark creature before her. the horned man pushes the other with the Force making him fall down a large metal hole. While stepping closer to peek below the man who had fell leaps up landing behind the horned man cutting him in half. Avayla gasps feeling the laser sword cutting through her own abdomen. The vision fades as she drops to her knees, desperately feeling her stomach for the slice. But there is none. A new vision appears. One where he stands beside someone similar to him. A dark presence chills Avayla to her very core. They battle with no avail. The man with the dark essence kills the other like him. She screams feeling the loss and pain that she felt when losing Hera. The vision subsides leaving Avayla drained.

“After that fateful battle, my Master cast me aside,” The man says with pain in his voice. She could feel it. The hopelessness of being left behind. A feeling she knew all to well. “He abandoned me. Replaced me with another.”

Tears pour from her eyes uncontrollably. She was trapped in his emotions unable to escape.

“But you know what that’s like. Don’t you?” He turns to her one more time. The emotions ease letting her catch her breath. She gets to her feet. “Your Master abandoned you just like mine.”

He walks around her seeing into her mind. She watches the room change but this time to one of her memories. Her heart is in her throat of the sight of her Master standing above her. His new apprentice at his side. Avayla balls her hands into fists. The dark figure from the man’s vision stands beside her Master. The horned man stands next to Avayla as they both look up at their old Masters.

“You are no longer my apprentice,” They speak at the same time. Their voices almost merging together. “You have been replaced.”

“Enough!” Avayla screams. She blasts fire at both Masters. The vision fades as Avayla struggles to catch her breath. She lifts a hand to her forehead trying to regain focus.

“Don’t you see?” The man next to her says. She looks at the man with pain in his yellow bloodshot eyes. “We are the same. Both cast aside by our Masters. But together we can rise above them.”

He extends his hand to her.

“I…” She says with her mind swimming. She had this overwhelming want to take his hand. She slowly reaches out giving in to the urge. Just as they were about to touch the sound of a blaster pierces through the fog clouding her mind. The hand that had been outstretched to her moves to hold the blaster shot in the air.

“Step. Away. From her!” Rex snarls while stepping out of the darkness.

“Rex!” Avayla says feeling relief and clarity sweep over her. she suddenly felt like she could breathe again. Free from whatever hold the horned man had on her.

“Avayla, are you alright? Did he hurt you?” Rex asks with his blasters still aimed at the horned man.

“Clone,” The man hisses while moving his hand letting the blaster shot hit the rock behind him. “Why are you here?”

“I’m here for my friend.” He says stepping into the room. The horned man puts his hands behind his back staring at Rex with narrowed eyes. “You will not take her.”

“I hardly think you have any say in that matter.” The horned man chuckles. Avayla steps between them.

“Stop. Both of you!” She says with a jab of her staff in the ground. She turns to Rex. “He only wants to destroy the Sith.”

“He is a Sith, Avayla.” Rex says. Avayla frowns and looks back at the horned man. “His name is Darth Maul. He’s killed countless of innocent lives! Including children.”

“Why didn’t tell me that before I ran off?” Avayla whips back at Rex.

“Because you were too busy hitting me with wind!” Rex says making Avayla’s face burn with embarrassment.

“Well, that was… uhn… ugh!” She tries to justify it but falters.

“If you two are done? I’d like to start training my apprentice.” Darth Maul sighs behind them. Avayla frowns at him.

“You’re a Sith! My people do not trust your kind.” Avayla narrows her eyes at him.

“It is true, yes. I once was a Sith but no longer. Now I only desire to rid this world of them.” He says. He wasn’t lying. She could feel the truth in his voice and the visions she saw were not fake. She stares at the cave floor thinking.

“You can’t be seriously thinking about joining him?” Rex yells at her. She meets his eyes.

“He’s not lying Rex. And not only that… he might be the only one out there willing to train me!” Avayla says feeling her own fear surface. Rex looks horrified so she turns away. He puts his blasters away and grabs her hand forcing her to meet his eyes again.

“Why did you come here? Do you remember what you first told me when I asked you why you wanted to become a Jedi?” He asks with fear and panic in his eyes. She feels her heart ache.

“It’s not about the power,” She says blinking away tears. “It’s about peace and understanding.”

“That’s right,” He says with a soft smile appearing on his face. “And I promise you that you will find no peace with him.”

Avayla nods while wiping away a tear. She takes a deep breath before turning to face Maul.

“He is right. This is not why I left my people. I am sorry but I cannot be your apprentice.” She says. Darth Maul frowns before closing his eyes.

“That is… unfortunate.” He says opening his eyes again while holding his hands out as pressure squeezes Avayla’s and Rex’s neck, lifting them off the ground. They gasp and squirm under the invisible force. Avayla feels her staff slip through her fingers. She tries to shape fire or wind at Maul but too much of her energy has been drained. She looks over at Rex. His face is turning a deep shade of blue. Tears sting her eyes once more. There was nothing she could do.

The sound was small at first but then rose to a loud scream. Maul frowns confused by the noise until it was to late. Slick and Dogma charge out of a tunnel ramming into him. Avayla and Rex drop feeling the air return to their lungs.

“Are you okay?” Avayla coughs to her friend.

“Never better.” Rex chokes. Maul kicks Dogma off him and throws Slick against the cave wall.

“Dogma!” Avayla calls. The clone with a V tattooed across his eye gives a small wave from the ground where he lays after getting kicked so hard. Rex opens fire at Maul. Maul simply uses the Force to redirect the shots. Avayla grabs her staff and swings it sending a line of concentrated air. He leaps out of the way letting the air cut through the rock. Maul lifts a large rock up with the Force and throws it at Rex and Avayla. They both dive out of the way as Slick fires from behind Maul. Maul runs and is able to dodge every shot.

“Slick? Wasn’t expecting you to come back.” Rex says while joining in at firing at Maul.

“Well… ya know… Your words really struck me in how we’re all apart of this crew and…”

“R6 wouldn’t let him steal ship and wouldn’t stop shocking him until he came back to help!” Dogma cuts him off from across the room. Slick frowns but doesn’t protest.

“Well, I’m glad your back either way.” Rex chuckles before dodging another thrown boulder.

“That makes one of us!” Slick yells while taking cover. Avayla shoots fire and wind but can feel her energy getting drained like before. Her flames barely leave her hands now and the air comes out as nothing more than a strong breeze.

“What is wrong, Apprentice?” Maul chuckles while diverting one of Rex’s shots at Dogma. Dogma ducks behind a rock just in time. “Snuffed out already? I could show you how to grow your power using your hate and passion!”

“Shut up!” Avayla yells feeling a burst a rage rush through her sending flames at Maul. He’s able to divert her flames just like the blaster shots. It stings even more when he does it with one hand behind his back. He gives a chuckle in his throat.

“Good, good, yes feed off your hate!” He says lifting the ground beneath her. she jumps off the side only for him to drop the giant rock on top of her. she holds her hands up shooting air above to slice the rock in half. She still gets crushed but sustains only bruises and mild cuts. When she crawls out of the rubble Rex is being lifted and choked in the air. Dogma and Slick are trapped under a large boulder that Maul is slowly crushing them with. Avayla steps towards Maul and feels all energy leave her body. She drops to her hands in knees panting.

“Stop… please…” She pants still crawling towards him.

“Agree to be my apprentice and I will let them live.” Maul says tightening his grip on Rex’s throat and lowering the boulder more onto Dogma and Slick.

“Don’t!” Rex chokes with his hands desperately clawing at the invisible hold on his throat. Tears blur her vision with panic building in her chest. Dogma cries in pain when the boulder pushes harder down. She squeezes her eyes shut before letting go. She opens her eyes and looks up at Maul.

“I’ll do it,” She says finally. “Just let them go.”

He smiles before throwing Rex against the wall and freeing Dogma and Slick. Dogma clutches a broken arm to his chest while Slick struggles to get to his feet. Maul turns to face Avayla as she stands. He holds his hand out to her. she takes it. He gives a low laugh before walking towards a tunnel.

“Come along, Apprentice. There is much to be done.” He says with his hands behind his back. She looks back at Rex one last time. He coughs while struggling to stand. He meets her eyes.

“I’m sorry.” She whispers before running after her new Master.

Rex

Everything is falling apart. The only thing he can hear is his heartbeat ringing in his ears. He watches Avayla disappear in the darkness of a tunnel with Darth Maul. The entrance to the tunnel collapses along with the ceiling of the cave. He pants and struggles to get to his feet. Slick is shaking his shoulders shouting something, but Rex can’t hear it. He took her.

“Rex!” Slick’s voice finally cuts through the ringing in his ears. He blinks a few times coming to his senses. “We have to move! The temple is collapsing!”

Rex gets to his feet. Dogma limps beside him cradling a broken arm. They run through a tunnel praying it was the one leading to a way out. The tunnel behind them collapses almost as fast as they can run. Rex pushes Dogma and Slick forward when he spots light ahead. They keep going feeling the rubble hit the back of their legs with the collapse growing closer and closer to them before they leap into the sunlight just before the ceiling can cave in on them.

They pant and roll on their backs to watch the mountain that had sprouted only the day before retreat back into the earth. Rex sits up spotting a familiar ship fly off into the distance. It was the same ship Ahsoka had held onto so dearly while they tried to escape the Republic ship.

“Fuck!” Slick pants while getting to his feet. “You alright, Kid?”

“Fine, just a broken bone.” Dogma mutters while sitting up. They both stare at the Captain that now stands staring at the direction that the ship had disappeared in. Dogma and Slick exchange a look before Slick steps closer.

“Rex?” He says cautiously.

“My fault.” Rex says softly.

“What?”

“This is my fault.” Rex says turning showing the guilt and pain in his eyes. “Everything that has happened up to this point has been my fault!”

“How is any of this your fault?” Dogma asks.

“I told her to reach out with the Force! That’s how he found her! And more than that… I told them to destroy the escape pods… they could have escaped…”

“What escape pods? Who are you talking about?” Slick asks. Rex starts walking towards Maz’s Castle.

“The ship… we have to go after them! I can fix this.” He says almost frantically. Dogma and Slick run after him.

“Hold on! You’re not in the right mind to go after them!” Slick says grabbing his arm. Rex whips around shoving Slick to the ground.

“I have to fix this! I can’t…” Rex starts before losing all energy and dropping to his knees. “… I can’t lose anyone else… I just can’t… I’m not strong enough…”

Dogma kneels next to his Captain.

“We’re with you Rex.” He says softly. Dogma cautiously puts a hand on Rex’s shoulder. Rex feels all the weight of his guilt and pain over the years of the Clone Wars wash over him. All the emotions he’s been bottling up pours out. For what would be the second time in his life he breaks out in tears. But this time in hopeless sobs. He covers his eyes trying to hide his crying face. Embarrassed to show emotion as he were a Jedi himself. Denal, Echo, Hardcase, Tup, Fives, Kix, Jesse, Cody, General Skywalker, Ahsoka, and now Avayla. His list keeps growing. His fault. All of them.

“I shouldn’t be a leader… I’ll just lead you to your deaths.” He says dropping his head. Dogma looks to Slick desperate for some guidance on what to do. Slick was as shocked and lost as he was. They had never seen Rex like this. Slick had never thought Rex could be like this. So they do the only thing they can think of. The sit on the ground with Rex between them. They listen to the birds chirp overhead as the trees sway with the warm breeze. Dogma shift wincing at his arm while chewing on his bottom lip.

“Do you know,” Dogma starts with a small voice. He swallows trying to muster to strength to keep going. “Do you know I was originally assigned to the 212th?”

When Rex doesn’t answer he goes on.

“Yeah, it seemed like a no brainer to me and everyone else. They thought I would do great with a Commander like Cody and General like Obi Wan Kenobi. But at the last second I put in a request for the 501st. Do you know why?” Dogma glances at Rex. He sits silently staring at the ground. “It was because of you.”

Rex gives a snort and turns his head away from Dogma.

“It’s true. You were unlike any Captain, Commander, or General I had ever seen. You didn’t just lead your men you… were one of the men. You treated everyone like a person. You only called them by their name not their numbers. When clones came to you without names you helped them pick one. And more then that your strategies and battle plans were brilliant! I was with Tup when I was putting in my recommendation. We both said we’d give anything to fight beside you.” Dogma explains. Rex presses his lips together with tears blurring his vision again. “We never had a father or even a father figure, but I think if we did. It was you. More clones looked up to you then you know.”

Rex swallows the knot in his throat and finally lifts his eyes to Dogma.

“I’m sorry for everything that happened to you.” He says with a shaky voice. Dogme puts a hand on Rex’s shoulder.

“What happened to me wasn’t your fault. What happened to all clones isn’t your fault.” Dogma says sternly.

“But I could have…”

“Rex, even if you could have done something the only thing that might have happened from it was your death. And for one I’m really happy you survived.” Dogma says cutting Rex off. Rex nods slowly before staring at the ground again.

“What happened to all the clones?” Slick asks. Rex stiffens before he and Dogma exchange a look.

“Nothing.” Dogma says slowly. He wobbly gets to his feet before extending a hand down to Rex. Rex takes it letting his brother help him up.

“Thank you, Dogma.” Rex says placing a hand on Dogma’s shoulder. They smile at each other while Slick gets to his feet.

“So, now that everything is back to normal… where are we going?” Slick asks. Rex places a hand on Slick’s shoulder giving smile.

“First stop is a medical ship.” He says with a sinister smile.

“Right… for Dogma’s broken arm.” Slick says while staring at Rex’s hand. Dogma places his good hand on Slick’s other shoulder.

“Right. My broken arm.” He says giving the same smile that Rex gives.

“Why are you both looking at me like that?” Slick asks flatly. Rex turns towards where their ship is parked.

“Come on Slick.” Rex chuckles while walking away.

“Seriously, Dogma, why were y’all smiling at me like that?” Slick asks.

“Oh no reason,” Dogma says while walking after Rex before turning around walking backwards. “But how do you feel about being bald for a while?”

“What does that mean? Seriously. Guys!” Slick calls after them.

[sunny-st-james]

Pas De Deux Ch. 9 - Departure

Whoops it’s just making out. I’m not actually sorry. Words - 1,505. Read here or on ao3.

Remus turned to look at the clock, or tried to turn as best as he could with his lip between Sirius’s teeth. He turned back to kiss Sirius one last time and pulled away.

“It’s 2:55,” Remus said before sitting up. Sirius groaned and threw his hands over his head, arching his back. Remus blushed and stood up.

“James is probably waiting for me.”

“Well, he’s probably not alone,” Remus said, purposefully not looking at Sirius.

“Did you invite someone?”

“Her name is Lily and if James is anything like you described him, they’re probably fighting right now.” Sirius groans.

“Well.”

“Yep.” Sirius paused, before sitting up to kiss Remus once more. Remus laughed, a small and breathy exhale, and turned to go put clothes on.

And when Sirius followed him, he managed to send a “we might be late” text to Lily before the door closed behind them.

—-

In the park, passersby turned their heads to look at what they assumed was the brunette-and-redhead couple arguing beneath a tree.

“So do you just flirt with everything that moves?” Lily snapped.

“I wasn’t flirting.” James crossed his arms and Lily scoffed at the way he acted like an angry child.

“Oh, really?”

“You wouldn’t know flirting if it bit you in the ass, Evans.” Lily turned, eyes flaming, to say something snappy back, but Sirius and Remus raced around the corner. Lily and James stepped apart quickly.

“Sorry we’re late, we-“ Remus started to say but Lily cut him off.

“Judging by the marks on your neck that you hid very poorly, I think we can tell exactly what you were doing,” Lily said. The other boys looked alarmed but Remus heard the fondness in her voice. Still, he shifted his sweater to cover his neck a bit more.

—-

After a short walk in the park and a goodbye to the very obviously aroused Sirius and Remus, Lily and James turned to each other.

“It sucked meeting you,” Lily said, sticking her hand out.

“I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable,” James replied, shaking her hand. Lily rolled her eyes and pulled a marker out of her bag. She wrote something on James’s wrist.

“Call me,” she said, turning to leave the park. James caught her hand.

“What?” she asked.

“Should we spy on their next date?” he replied. She looked at him and smiled.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about,” she said, high-fiving him.

—-

Sirius and Remus walked down the street holding hands.

“Where do you want to go?” Sirius asked as they passed Ann’s.

“Who’s place is closer?” Remus’s voice was thick and he seemed to pull Sirius even faster.

“Mine.”

“Let’s go to yours.”

“But you don’t have any clothes,” Sirius said, unable to keep up with Remus despite Sirius being almost a foot taller. Remus slowed down just enough to look at Sirius, and his breath caught. Remus’s pupils were blown wide and the desperate gleam caused something to stir deep in Sirius’s stomach.

“Do I look like I care about that right now?” Remus half spoke half gasped. Sirius just swallowed and walked faster.

The streets were packed with people and they maneuvered through the crowds. Eventually, Remus slowed down to follow Sirius, who took them into a tall and fancy building that Remus felt too poor to even be allowed near. Sirius nodded to the lady at the front desk and she pressed a button that opened the elevator doors.

The sliding doors closed behind them and as the elevator moved upwards, they looked at each other. It was then that Sirius noticed the well-placed bag in front of Remus’s upper thighs. He reached out to touch the skin of his neck, stopping as Remus shook his head.

“Not here. Inside.” With every word, it seemed harder for them to breathe.

Finally, the doors opened directly into Sirius’s apartment. Remus led the way in and threw his stuff onto a couch.

“Do you have to dance tomorrow?” Sirius asked.

“No.”

“Good.” Sirius smirked. Remus blushed and Sirius opened his mouth to say something, but Remus pulled him in by the collar. After all, you can’t tease someone if their tongue is in your mouth.

—-

They kissed in the middle of the room. It was deep and passionate and slow, nothing like their first kiss. Remus rose onto the balls of his feet but Sirius just picked him up. Wrapping his legs around Sirius’s waist, he felt a hand slide into his hair and pull, giving Sirius access to his throat. His breath came in pants as Sirius worked his way up to his jawline.

“You want to do this now?” Sirius asked, seeking permission.

“Yes.” It came out breathy and high pitched and he would have been embarrassed, but Sirius just sighed happily against his neck and walked them to his bedroom. Remus made quick work of his shirt and tugged Sirius’s off too.

Sirius laid him gently on the bed and began kissing up the line of his inner thigh, pushing Remus’s shorts up. The feeling of Sirius’s mouth on his thigh sent his heart racing.

It was slow and deep, and then all of a sudden, it overwhelmed them. It started as a marathon and ended as a sprint and they went all the way past the finish line.

—-

They laid side by side, the blue glow of the moon casting shadows across their faces. Remus had his head tucked against Sirius’s side. From across the room, the city lights reflected off of buildings rising high in the sky and the stars blinked outside the window. Remus had never realized how warm Sirius was.

“I’m so tired,” Remus whispered, laughing softly. Sirius just threaded his fingers in Remus’s hair.

“Then go to sleep, baby.” The city noise is drowned out a little as Remus was pulled into Sirius’s chest. His curls tickled Sirius’s chin.

Remus shifted a bit. “Mhmm,” he sighed, causing Sirius’s heart to flutter. Their legs tangled together under the blankets. It was warm and soft and everything.

High above the streets, Sirius realized that he loved Remus.

They fell asleep around the same time, but Sirius took time to study Remus’s softened face and parted lips before falling asleep too.

—-

For someone who prided themselves on their common sense, Remus had really left his eight o clock alarm on. So, at eight in the morning, the piercing ring of his alarm rang out through the apartment, frightening both of them awake. They both swore considerably before Remus leapt out of bed to shut it off. From where he was standing across the room, Remus watched Sirius flop back on the bed and threw his hands over his face.

“Wha’time’sit?” Remus hears from somewhere in the blankets. He looks at his phone.

“Eight o’ one.” Sirius let out the biggest groan Remus had ever heard and sat up. He rummaged around in his nightstand drawer, and Remus was confused until he pulled out-

“You wear glasses?”

“Reading glasses.” Sirius put them on his face, and it took all of Remus’s willpower to not melt into a puddle and join the sun flowing through the window. “I don’t wear them very often.”

“You should.” Sirius looked confused. “You should wear them more often, I mean,” Remus finished. At the implication of these words, Sirius smirked.

“So you like them? I never would have guessed you had a thing for glasses, Remus,” Sirius said, slowly getting out of the bed and walking to Remus. As the spaces between them lessened, Remus swallowed thickly. He felt large palms settle on his waist, squeezing slight, and he sighed involuntarily.

Sirius was a sight to behold. Between his long dark hair tied up in a messy bun and the thick frames that somehow made his eyes look even better, Remus had no idea how he had even survived before Sirius. He ran his hands along the soft fabric stretched across Sirius’s chest.

Remus was suddenly pushed back against the table. He shifted to sit on the surface and looked up at Sirius.

“Whatever you want, baby,” Remus whispered, and Sirius nuzzled his neck before slowly undressing them both.

They moved from the table to the couch, and then to the shower. Sirius was sure he’d die when Remus tilted his head back to rinse his hair. He would have leaned down to kiss his throat if he hadn’t been worried about Remus getting a lungful of water. He just settled for looking.

In the golden sunlight, they lounged on the couch, wrapped in fluffy white towels. Remus could barely pull his eyes away from the heated, blushing skin of Sirius’s bare chest. The feeling of being there next to him overwhelmed Remus, suffocated him and made him aware at the same time.

On the back of the couch, their intertwined hands rested, glowing gold in the sun.

Chapter Eight Here!

[webcricket]

Winter’s Eye

Pairing: AU!CastielXReader Word Count: 1803 (Ch. II) Summary: Season 13 canon tells you how AU!Castiel’s story ends, this is how it begins. The deranged and damaged iteration of Castiel we met in the apocalypse universe - an obedient soldier to Michael’s cause barely in control of his vessel’s frayed and erratically firing nerves whose inherent kindness toward humankind appeared entirely obliterated - wasn’t always an unfeeling angelic weapon of interrogation. Once, he sympathized with the plight of humans; one, he loved. A/N: Multi-chapter origin and love story. No happy ending here, folks; just a bittersweet illustration of an angel’s devotion and the sacrificial ends he pursues to protect the object of his affection. New chapters post on Mondays.

Series Masterlist

II.

Illumined by a flickering glow, frost curtains the corners of the cabin’s paned windows as sheets of snow continue to envelope the world without. A fire crackles in the wood stove; the cast iron door yawns to reveal a burning bedlam of deep orange and silvery embers forfeiting their fervor of warmth to temper the chill from the single room.

The fury of light silhouettes two figures stationed directly before it; the one, insensate with cold and settled on an overstuffed leather chair, houses a soul lately saved, the other, operating on righteous instinct, a being in a body borrowed.

The latter leans in constant worried motion over his unconscious ward. He loosens the layers of damp clothing, consigning a coat no longer equipped in its damp state to insulate to the floor beside already discarded boots; the melt of caked-snow clinging to the laces and heels coalesces into a shimmering pool on the broad pine planks.

Still dissatisfied by the sluggish return of consciousness, he rubs and rearranges the lax limbs repeatedly to restore circulation. His unrelenting efforts find rapid reward in a spasm of shuttered eyelid and the initiation of a bodily shiver suggesting the brain of the afflicted has thawed enough to rejoin the struggle for survival.

Tapping a finger to the rewarmed temple, his irises refract an internally rising radiance of blue; the otherwise unseen glory gifted him by heaven hurries to confirm the signs of recovery. Evidently pacified with the direction of progress given the small sigh of relief passing his lips, he ceases fussing to slide the chair in closer proximity to the blaze; stoking and feeding the fire, he steps back, content for the moment to watch the unfolding symptoms of revival.

The breath of both flame and rekindling life further thicken the frosty condensation on the window’s glass from within as he waits.

Castiel’s concerned blues occasion, after some minutes observing the sameness of your state, to lift from you in order to sweep over the shadow-obscured stacked log walls; in them and, too, a roof sound enough to keep out the blasting wind, he notes something of greater consequence than he felt hereto before when tarrying there - something consoling; a something verging on comfort.

The only variable altered is that of his not being alone – an amendment to his exile he finds not at all unpleasant; and one which - as regards comfort at least - watery sheen of blues dipping again to you, he wonders whether you will feel equal easement in upon waking.

In the firelight your features flush as blood steadily surges to sooth ice-nipped skin; he is struck once again by the delicacy of peace predominant in your expression despite the subtleties of pain weathering pale pink lips and stamping a sallowness into the hollows beneath your lowered lashes. The natural advantage of beauty he appreciates as affecting your particular aspect, much like those wonders of his Father’s creation once resplendent in a now desolated world for which he held the highest esteem allowed an angelic creature supposedly steeped in inherent apathy, appears no less diminished given what you must have endured before stumbling into these woods.

A series of restless moans murmuring on your lips, you squirm in shallow slumber in search of some unknown solace which seems to elude you.

Trance broken, giving you space, instinctively he shifts backward and stills to stone. He hasn’t yet considered what he’ll say – hasn’t fully fathomed how to handle the consequence of confusion sure to follow fast upon your rousing, nor how to allay the fear certain to be aroused in the requisite explanations offered of how you came to be here and what he is.

A compassionate heart guided by an innate sense for what is right, and the selfish potential - in the soldierly sense, of course, of once more having order and purpose to the passage of time - for the immediate improvement of his own dejected condition to be provided by your company, fix him to the spot.

A moment passes; then another. You do not wake.

A spark of cinder bursts forth, bounces, and sputters in the drips of wet gathered round your socked feet; his notice veers from you to follow the extinguishing complaints of the slag until it is no more than a fleck of gray ash and a withering of smoke.

“Hi.” Your throat, raw from long exposure to cold air, cracks out the faintest of greetings.

Blues flick to meet your blearily blinking gaze. Caught off guard, he states the obvious. “You’re awake.”

“No, I’m Y/N.” Woozy, weak, and uncertain of where you are or who he is, you default to wit such that you might start by assembling the strewn vestiges of it now returning to you.

His gaze narrows; after a second of deeply furrowed contemplation of your curious response to his observation, the crease of his brow eases in realization of the verbal play. “Ah, I’m Castiel.”

Stranger with a strange name, you think, and, a stranger accent.

Straightening from a slouch to obtain a better vantage on your whereabouts, half-expecting some indication to present itself you’ve been transported to Europe, you chance a cursory glance at the surroundings; your best guess: You’ve simply been deposited in a hunting cabin replete with a requisite decapitated White-tailed deer – a vacantly staring specimen sans four legs and anything else below the neck - mounted on a plaque to one wall. Despite the deer’s dead stare, it’s better than the last place you remember being which is riverside freezing to death under the similarly impassive survey of an oak.

In your periphery, a well-aimed lurch of two, maybe two and half feet from the cozy confines of the chair, your eyes glint on a brass fire poker laid against the stove. You have no idea who this guy is; not that you aren’t grateful, but you’re keeping your options open.

“Castiel,” you repeat, regard roaming over his distinctly regimental attire and the squared stance ingrained by association as that of a soldier standing at attention. “I think I owe you a thank you.”

Dropping his gaze in a gallant gesture of humility suggesting saving you was a mere trifle, he bows his head.

The civility of his manner instantly eases your wariness. In its place, you feel the overwhelming urge to fill the silence and elucidate how you came to be in the predicament of wanting rescue. “Damned stupid to dare that river crossing in a storm. I could hear the ice cracking, but I also heard a squad of angels coming in close behind me. Not much of a choice, you know?”

His eyes rise to yours – you discern the tranquility of their color markedly disturbed by the mention of angels. This reaction fortifies your impression of him as friend, not foe. Slightly relaxing caution, you lean forward to fold your palms together before stove.

The strong line of his jaw sets, stalling in choice of just the right words to answer to your story without creating alarm. Coughing to clear the gravel from the lower register of his voice, he calmly utters them a second or two before you become aware of the delay. “There are no angels on that side of the river.” In review, it occurs to him it would’ve been wiser not to stress any one part of the statement above another.

“Oh.” You swallow the syllable; embarrassment blossoms on your cheeks as the enormity of the damned stupid sinks in and the reality of the damned lucky surfaces.

You duck your chin and redirect, hoping perhaps along with his knowledge of where angels aren’t, he also knows something of the refugee encampment you were looking for. “Are you with the resistance?”

The disquiet unsettling his blues and agitating the minute musculature of his jawline wends down his spine to work inflexible mischief into his shoulders. He’s glad you failed to latch onto the ill-spoken that, less glad the interview persists in being directed upon himself.

Unpracticed talking to people – skills of conversing rusty as a result of many months of isolation – he grapples inwardly to determine how to change the subject; outwardly, he clasps his hands behind his back to preserve composure.

Evading causing you discomfiture by further delay in speaking, he replies, “In a manner of speaking.”

Although superficially affirmative, the awkward avoidance of an explicatory answer should excite your alertness; it doesn’t. The strangely alluring accent he’s in possession of implies he’s a visitor from foreign lands; wherever he’s from, perhaps the resistance is called something entirely different, like, for example, the opposition.

The cohesive framework of international news, or news of any shape beyond word of mouth and unfounded rumor (which, strictly speaking, is not so different from when international news stood strong), ceased to exist the day angels dive-bombed the planet. Whomever he’s with, his answer signifies a sympathetic attachment to the resistance, and that’s good enough for you.

“You’re military then?” you ask, utterly naïve in your progress toward the horrifying truth.

“Yes.”

If angels prayed, he’d pray - for your sake - you end your inquiry there. You were willing to risk hypothermia or worse to escape angels you only imagined were trailing you; there’s no guessing what you’ll do when you discover yourself occupying a room with one.

Short of hastily vacating the cabin without any clear rationalization of why he is running out into a squall, he’s at a total loss as to how to stop you; he ignores the gust of wind just then temptingly rattling the door.

Surrendering to the security represented in his confirmed status as a soldier – whereby, in so far as you understand, a soldier universally being a shield to defend against wrong, thus makes him worthy of your confidence – and suddenly aware of a recommenced shivering as the strength of the fire wanes, you stretch your fingers toward a blanket draped out of reach on a footstool.

Casually – fatally, to your carelessly formed faith in his goodness given the little you know - you prod further. “So … what army?”

He stoops to retrieve the blanket for you and encounters, in a separation of only inches, your unsuspecting and thankful look as you offer him a diminutive but delightful smile in exchange for the chivalrously proffered fringed edge of fabric.

You peer expectantly into his blues, ready to learn which leg of European power has crossed the sea to help stand humanity’s ground here in the states; peering back at you, veracity gleams brightly beneath a widened ledge of lashes begging pardon for what he is about to say.

Your rapt attention diverts to his lips moving in articulation of an answer that steals your breath and stops your heart.

“God’s army.”

Next Chapter: III

[fluffy-marshmallow-heart]

Secret Studies ch.17 -The Worry Stone

The Elementalist AU

Beckett x MC (Oriana)

Words: 2443

Warnings: Violence

Master List (Catch Up Here)

After dinner on Friday, Oriana, Beckett, Zephyr, Shreya, and Griffin all headed to the girls’ dorm. Unlocking the door, they went inside and immediately dumped all their bags onto the floor before flopping down on the furniture.

“God, I’m already burned out. How is it that school just started again?” Zeph groaned.

“Oh, I don’t know.” Beckett started. “I’m actually very excited about learning more wood magic. I’ve already checked out several books from the library and…”

“And you can’t wait to start researching, blah blah blah.” Zeph laughed.

Beckett frowned. “Am I that predictable?”

“Yes, definitely.” Oriana leaned in, kissing him on the cheek. “But we love you for it.”

The tips of his ears turned red, knowing all eyes were on him. Truthfully, he hated the attention, hated having the attention on a personal level. Academically he wanted to shine. He’s still getting used to the joking around that comes with friendship, and the only eyes that matter are Oriana’s, and he wants to see them forever.

“Alright, party people! Let’s get this started!” Shreya announced cheerfully. Oriana brought out the games, and Griffin and Zephyr started arranging the furniture to better accommodate everyone, while Shreya and Beckett went to grab the snacks and alcohol.

“Oh no!!!” Shreya screeched. “I forgot the snacks!! There was a really cute guy at the liquor store and I got all distracted and I forgot the snacks!!!”

Beckett rolled his eyes. “It’s okay, Shreya, it’s really not that serious.”

“Yes, it is!! You can’t have games and alcohol without snacks!! We need chips, we need dip, we need…just…everything!!”

He sighed. “If it’s that important then I’m sure someone can…”

“Oh my god, thank you!!!! Beckett, this is so great of you to go get them quick, I know you won’t be distracted like I was, it’s actually perfect for you to go, thank you, thank you, thank you for volunteering!”

She gave him a huge hug and he tensed. “I didn’t say that I would be…”

“Guys! Beckett has to leave for a bit!” She called out. “But that’s okay, there’s still more to do!”

Oriana frowned. “What more is there to do? It’s just the five of us, Shreya. I’ll go with Beckett, it’ll be faster that way.”

“Um, no it won’t. The two of you will probably stop in an alley to have sex, and we don’t want to wait for that.”

“I really think Oriana should come with…”

“Uh uh, nope. Decision’s been made. Now go, shoo!” Shreya practically shoved him out the door, while he looked back at Oriana helplessly.

As he trudged to the nearest portal to Penn Square he glowered. He hated leaving her. Bad things tend to happen when they’re apart. His only consolation was that she was with Zeph and Shreya. Perhaps even Griffin. No matter what he’s up to, Beckett doesn’t think he will actually hurt Oriana, and even if he wants to, there’s no way the others will let him. He finally steps through to Penn Square, finding it abuzz with typical Friday night activities. The bars are open, as well as game rooms, and of course, the shops. He quickly stepped into the first one and began loading a cart with snacks he felt was appropriate for such an occasion. And, since there would be alcohol involved, he decided to grab some bottles of water as well.

Back in the dorm, the group of original friends were already laughing and having a good time. They hadn’t actually started a game yet, but the booze was flowing. Oriana felt bad that Beckett had been kicked out and sent on a mission without her, but it was also nice to simply spend time with her friends. Since her last attack, Beckett never left her side. He’d walk her to and from classes, they stayed together every night. She didn’t mind, in fact she loves it, she feels so safe with him. Right now, she was happy to have some time without, but she also couldn’t help being slightly on edge that he wasn’t around. To her great relief, even Griffin was acting normal. In fact, he and Shreya seemed to be flirting at the moment, which she’s finding interesting and can’t wait to get Shreya alone to ask her about it.

Her phone started buzzing in her pocket.

Beckett: Hey, I’m outside, can you come help me bring this stuff in?

Oriana: Absolutely, be right there 😊

“Beckett’s outside.” She announced. “I’m going to go help him bring things in.”

Griffin rolled his eyes. “What, he’s not strong enough to handle a few bags by himself? I can go help him.”

“I’m sure you can.” Shreya nudged him gently. “But I already stopped Oriana from going with him once, she will literally kill me if I stop her again. Besides, they’re not going to sneak off with their arms full of food.”

“The girl’s got a point.” Zephyr jumped in.

Griffin shrugged. “Alright. I was just trying to be nice.”

“I appreciate it, Griffin, more than you can possibly know.” Oriana smiled at him, then stood up and walked to the door. “I’ll be right back!”

A bit later, Beckett walked back into Oriana and Shreya’s common room, dropping the bags at his feet. “I certainly hope this will suffice. I cannot believe how many drunk people there are at this hour. It’s not even 8pm, and they’re everywhere. It took forever.”

He looked around the room. “Where’s Ori? Is she in her room?”

He was met with furrowed eyebrows. “I thought she was with you.” Zeph said slowly.

“Yeah…you text her to meet you outside like. Thirty minutes ago. I let her go because I was confident you two wouldn’t wander off.” Shreya told him.

Beckett looked at Griffin, whose eyes were cast to the floor. “What about you, Griffin? Where is she?”

Griffin wouldn’t look at him. “I…I don’t know where she is. I only know what Shreya and Zeph know. She received a text, said it was from you, and left.”

Beckett narrowed his eyes. “You know something. What is it?”

“Why do you automatically assume I know something?”

“Because you won’t look at me.”

“Griffin…” Zeph started. “Have you heard from her? You received some messages from someone too, while we were moving some things out of the way.”

All eyes were on Griffin, who started stammering. “They weren’t from her, I…I really don’t know where she is, guys, I would tell you if I did, I swear.”

“You know where she is all the time Griffin.” Beckett spat out, watching his eyes widen. “That’s right. I know you’ve been following her.”

“You’ve been following her?” Shreya asked incredulously, moving away from him. “That’s creepy. If you don’t know where she is, then you need to leave. Now.”

“I…I…” Griffin sighed. “I haven’t lately, okay? But yes, I did.”

He was met with silence before he spoke again. “Does she know?”

“Yes. I told her. We tell each other everything. You can’t base a relationship on secrets and lies. We learned that the hard way. But despite this, she still considers you a good friend and she’s the one who invited you.” Beckett turned to Shreya. “He stays. It’s what Ori wants. And I believe him when he says he doesn’t know anything. This time, anyway.”

“But Beckett…”

He rose his hand to cut her off. “I just need to find her, I’m not wasting time arguing. She wouldn’t just leave. Are you sure she said she received a message from me?”

Heads nodded, and he had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Something--or someone--tricked her into leaving the group. And used him to do it. He swallowed hard, remembering what happened in the forest.

“I gotta go. Please, all of you, stay here and call me if she shows up?”

Zephr stood up. “Let me help you.”

Beckett shook his head. “No. I need you to stay here, all of you, okay? I might need your help and I need to know where you all are.”

“Is she in danger?” Shreya asked, looking worried.

Beckett paused as he opened the door. “I don’t know.” He left without another word.

Outside, he took a moment to compose himself and think about where she could be. He can’t just start running in a random direction, there may not be time for that.

“Why didn’t my protection spell work” He murmured to himself. He kept trying her phone, but it went straight to voicemail. Wherever it was, it was turned off. Or broken. And as long as he’s known her, she has never shut it off.

He stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out the worry stone, rubbing frantically. The scene inside came to life before his eyes. “Come on, Ori, please, give me something, where are you?”

The stone glowed bright purple in his hand and he gasped in surprise as a wave of clarity washed through him. He quickly asked another question. “Are you in the forest?”

The stone turned red, and Beckett ran his other hand through his hair. He hopes this means what he thinks it means. “Are you on campus?” he whispered

A soft green emanated from it now and Beckett now knew there was extra magic in it, magic to help him stay calm and find her if she was ever lost.

He took a deep breath, asking a series of questions, the colors bouncing between red and green accordingly. He asked which side of campus, near the dorms, by the lake, which direction to go. He found himself standing in front of the library, the stone a brilliant shade of green, and sprinted inside. He didn’t need any more directions; the answer was in his palm the entire time. He ran to the secret chamber where they first kissed, where they first were attacked, and as soon as he stepped inside the wind was knocked out of him by the sight. Several dark and wispy shadow beasts were upon her unmoving body.

Anger boiled to his surface and on instinct he started using every defensive spell he knew and extinguished their flames through shrill, bloodcurdling shrieks. A dreadful and cold feeling coursed through his veins as he saw the blood on the floor and walls. She was pale and still, her hands and feet bound. Someone had tied her up and left her to die, completely defenseless. She was covered in bloody and deep gashes where the monsters had been clawing her. As he began healing he remembered their friends said she’d been gone quite awhile before he returned to the dorm. He shuddered to think that’s how long she’s been here, tied up and tortured, screaming in pain with no one coming to help. Tears streamed down his face, she was barely breathing, and he couldn’t heal everything on his own, at least, not fast enough.

“It’s going to be okay.” He whispered in her ear. “You’re going to be okay, I’m here, I’ve got you.”

An instant later they were in her common room, Shreya, Zeph, and Griffin all jumping to their feet when he arrived, carrying her lifeless body bridal style. “HELP ME!!!!” He shouted, as he quickly lay her down on the floor.

The friends ran over, gasping. “What happened??” Shreya cried

“She’s not breathing!!” Zeph panicked.

Griffin just stood there, eyes wide, the color draining from his body, as though he were in a complete state of shock.

“We have to heal her, I can’t do it alone, there’s too many wounds for me to heal and she’s already…” He choked up, unable to complete the sentence.

Zeph and Shreya immediately were at his side, but Griffin still held back.

“GRIFFIN, GET OVER HERE!!” He shouted furiously. “We all have to do this, it’s the only way.” He begged.

As though moving on auto-pilot, Griffin joined everyone else, hovering his hands over her wounds. Beckett started reciting the healing spell, and the others quickly caught on, light emanating from each palm, and slowly, her wounds began to close. Beckett could feel some of her strength return, but it was weak, and probably wouldn’t be noticeable to anyone who hasn’t healed her before.

Finally, the last of the injuries had disappeared. They all stared at her, and when she didn’t wake up tears started running down Beckett’s face.

“W-why isn’t she waking up?” Griffin asked nervously.

“I don’t know.” Beckett whispered. “I thought she would, she’s always been fine after healing before and…”

“Wait, this has happened before?” Shreya asked in surprise.

Beckett hung his head and just nodded in response.

“What the hell actually happened?” Zeph asked

Beckett took a deep breath. “These shadow beasts…they’ve been attacking her, trying to kill her. I…I had a protection spell, I don’t know why it didn’t work this time.”

Gasps rang through the room as that news sunk in.

“How did you find her?”

He glanced up. “By magic I wasn’t aware of. I’m guessing a contingency plan, something for the worst-case scenario. Something like this.”

“Something was trying to kill her?” Griffin asked quietly.

“Not just something. Someone. Someone conjures these things. I just…I don’t know who would do such a thing.”

The room was silent until Beckett took Oriana back in his arms. “I’m going to put her in her bed. It’s more comfortable than the floor.”

“Is she going to wake up?” Griffin asked, his voice shaky.

“She lost a lot of blood. Maybe we should at least take her to see the nurse…” Shreya suggested.

“If she doesn’t wake up soon…yes. Right now…” Beckett just shook his head and carried Oriana into her bedroom, shutting the door behind them. He carefully removed her tattered and bloody clothing, the tears beginning to fall again. He climbed into bed with her, holding her tightly against him, just listening to her heartbeat.

“Please wake up.” He whispered. “You’re my life, and I need you. Please, please wake up, Ori. I love you so much. We’re going to get married, we’re going to have a future.”

He waited and waited but she never moved. After a while, the door quietly opened.

“Beckett?” A nervous voice called softly.

He furrowed his eyebrows and rolled over, seeing the last person he wanted in her bedroom. “What the fuck do you want? You froze out there, you could be the reason she’s not awake. Maybe we were too late.”

Griffin stepped in and closed the door quietly. “I need to tell you something. I think I know who’s doing this.”

  @annekebbphotography @carabeth @gardeningourmet @eileendannie @alesana45 @thequeenofcronuts @drakewalkerfantasy @zigortega4life @friedherringclodthing

@marianagmt @divergentofhogwarts @flyawayboo @kate-omalleys @syltti78 @coldcollectornight08 @emerald-bijou @herdecisions @nerdynstoned @owleyes374 @thatcatlady0716 @damienswhore @imaginemulti @hypno-bear-tini @askdana @noisysoulthing @bieberismysoulmate @meiyoko-trash @coffeebeandragon @pbmychoices @timmagicktoad @brightpinkpeppercorn @kendrasgue @paisleylovergirl @sweetest-marbear @darley1101 @blackcoffee85 @confessionsofabrokegirl @feartheendlesssummer

[siren-dragon]

Long Live the King - (Ardyn Izunia x Reader) Ch.5

Hey everyone! I hope you are all excited for the next chapter! ^_^ As always, I am grateful to everyone who has read/liked/reblogged this story. And you can all check out fan art for this story at @chibi-jing,  who is amazing! Anyway, lets get this started!

“Hello, my sweet nymph.”

You stared at Ardyn in silent awe; your mind a hailstorm of thoughts and emotions at the sight of your husband. It was him…it truly was him! Emotions long buried began to rise to the surface and tears began to cloud your vision.

“I don’t doubt you have questions.”

“I- yes but…I don’t know where to begin. How are you here? Alive? I thought…Izunia...”

Ardyn chuckled, “my dear brother refused to sully his hands in such a manner and had me imprisoned on Angelgard instead. A shame, as I would not have been so generous.”

You frowned briefly at his cold words, but smiled nonetheless. “I am glad you are safe, my King.”

“Ah, you’ve no idea how long it has been since I’ve heard those words.” Ardyn smiled, cupping your cheek gently before wrapping his arms around you. “I have missed you so much, my Queen. Long have I wished to see you once more….”

“It’s alright, my love; I am here.” You whispered, burying yourself deeper into his embrace. The familiar scent of sandalwood making you smile as you clung to your beloved. Nothing else mattered; so long as you had Ardyn by your side, you knew that everything would be alright in the end….

“Yes…and those damned gods will regret taking you away.”

It felt as if an icy wind had swept through your entire being, causing you to look up at Ardyn in shock. “What are you talking about?”

“Those so called ‘Astrals’, who destroyed our family once our purpose was served,” Ardyn growled.

You let your hands fall to your sides as you slowly took a step back. “Why Ardyn? Why does that matter? I don’t understand….”

The look of sorrow that crossed his face broke your heart as he caressed your face. “Why? For years I’ve done nothing but what they desired, and for what? To be cast out as unclean and have all that I held dear taken from me. I am simply finishing what they started.”

Immediately you pulled away from Ardyn, your smile disappearing instantly. “Finishing? Ardyn…you invaded your own kingdom. Killed hundreds and manipulated people like pawns; people you once cared for with all your heart…. That is not the king I know.”

“Oh, my sweet (f/n), you still do not understand.” Ardyn smiled, the expression looking more sinister and twisted than kind and heartfelt. He gripped your arms tightly, causing you to wince in pain at the immense pressure. “I am doing this all for you, for the pain that you and our poor son suffered.”

“Ardyn…you’re hurting me….”

“I have lived with these horrors for too long.” He mumbled under his breath, no longer even hearing you. “For many years I pleaded for mercy, and instead they forsook me and stole all I loved. And now you have returned to me, my sweet nymph.”

You watched in horror as black sludge began spilling from Ardyn’s left eye, much like the nightmare you suffered from days ago, before it fell onto your cheeks. His veins, now black, became visible under his flesh as it spread like spider webs across his face. Quickly you pulled away, hands immediately unsheathing your bow, “Ardyn STOP!”

He froze, taking in your offensive stance and terrified face; now splattered with black stains. Ardyn rose a hand to his face and wiped away the sludge that was streaming down his cheeks like obsidian tears. A deep pang of guilt mentally slapped you across the face when you saw his hurt expression, causing you to lower your bow. But soon his hurt turned to rage as he glared down at you; his impressive height making you feel even smaller.

“So, this is how you truly feel.” He murmured, the words colder than ice and sharper than steel. “You side with those who took your own child away!”

“….What happened to you?...” you whispered trying to turn away until his hand snapped out and grabbed your wrist, causing you to yelp in pain.

“What is the matter, my dear? Does the darkness frighten you?...”

Without any thought, you tore your hand away and fled into the darkness, ignoring Ardyn’s calls to you. Blindly you ran through the shadows, tears falling from your eyes as adrenaline pumped through your body, pushing you onward. What had become of your beloved husband?

A loud groan echoed through the air, followed by a roar and the clink of metal. You skid to a halt as an Iron Giant appeared from the shadowy abyss that bubbled beneath its feet. Muttering a curse, you tried to sprint around the massive daemon, only for it to swing its inflamed sword. You ducked quickly with the blade missing you by mere inches. Scrambling to your feet once more, you took off again to flee from the monster, only to feel the distinct pull of magic.

Glancing backward you saw the Iron Giant swing its hand forward and glow crimson red as the gravity magic began pulling you toward it. You desperately tried to latch onto the grass, but it was all for not as you flew backward and had the daemon’s sword slam into you. Stars began dancing in your vision as you slammed against the ground, hearing a unsettling crack upon your landing. As your vision began to fade, you saw another figure dispatch the Iron Giant and the thumping of footsteps approaching you. Looking upward you saw the shadowy outline of your savior before the darkness consumed you…..

You slowly opened your eyes; shutting them immediately at the sudden glare of sunlight. Blinking a few times to gain your bearings, you looked around to see that you were within the Royal Gardens once more. Sitting upright, you glanced about the garden in confusion, wondering how you managed to return to Insomnia.

“This is your Haven, Forgotten Queen.”

Spinning around you saw a woman standing there. A familiar one of black hair and an equally black kimono; “Gentiana…” you spoke aloud. “What do you mean? What is this place? And where is Ardyn?”

“This place is simply an illusion, one that offers you comfort.” The Messenger answered, walking beside the lake. “Here, we may speak freely from the Accursed.”

“Accursed? Do you…mean Ardyn?” You asked, standing up. “Why do you call him that?”

Gentiana turned to face you, her eyes managing to pierce your very soul, despite them being closed. “For every light, there is a darkness. For the King of Kings, that darkness is the Immortal Accursed. And soon he shall purge our star of its scourge, and restore light unto the world.”

You stared in horror at the Messenger, her words filling you with dread. “What have you done to him?”

“A king’s duty is to their people, and your beloved had accepted his task with pride.”

“You lied to him! Cast him out and left him to linger on in this world, taking everything from him!”

A cold wind blew through the garden, causing you to shiver and fall to your knees. The temperature plummeted and frost began to cover your body as a blizzard swept through, changing the peaceful atmosphere. “Did you not respond similarly? Were you not abhorred by the monster he had become? Perhaps I was wrong about you, little nymph.”

“….you’re right.” You sighed, your breath coming out as plumes of smoke. “I was not brave, but scared. We had both changed from our trials, and instead of accepting him, I abandoned him like so many others. But…” you turned your gaze to the divine entity, eyes hard and determined, “I will not let him suffer alone any longer. You may see it as foolish, but I will stand beside him…. until the end.”

Immediately the world stopped, as if time itself had frozen under winter’s icy grasp. Slowly a smile spread across Gentiana’s lips, her eyes opening to show the warmth lingering in their dark depths. “Then go forth and show him the truth of your heart, little nymph….”

As you opened your eyes, the first thing you registered was the scent of medicine. Turning your head to the left and right you tried to get a view of your current whereabouts. Wherever you were, it was certainly not Lestallum, let alone the Leville Hotel. The room was made completely of steel, and was large with multiple beds of uniformed appearance lined up in two separate rows. Curtained screens stood between each bed to provide some semblance of privacy, with the ones around your own bed partially closed.

“You have returned.”

Turning to your left, you saw Ardyn sitting within a chair at your bedside, legs crossed and fedora placed upon his lap. His golden-amber eyes were colder than the Glacian’s cadaver and gazed at you without any emotion. It was as if a flame had been extinguished within him, leaving not a bit of warmth. A gaze you certainly deserved…

“Ardyn,” you spoke, relieved your voice was not rusty from disuse. “How long was I unconscious? And…what is this place?”

“This place happens to be the Infirmary of Aracheole Stronghold within the Region of Duscae. As for how long you were unconscious, that would be about 24 hours; give or take a few.”

“I’ve been gone an entire day?! Noctis and the others must be worried sick!”

Ardyn smirked, “there is no need for alarm; I am sure his Highness believes you to be unharmed.”

You frowned at his choice of words, but breathed a mental sigh of relief. Noctis and the others knew you were not one to be taken down easily; but if Ardyn had somehow informed them that you were safe, they would be less distracted in their mission. Glancing back at Ardyn you bit your lip, not quite sure what to say after the spectacle that you caused the previous evening. “Ardyn…. I-….Why did you safe me?”

He remained silent, his cold gaze still locked upon you. “You could call it a gesture of Imperial good will.”

“Ardyn, after what I did to you…I did not deserve such a gesture. What I did was cruel, and after the life you had I- “

“Who told you about that?” He snapped.

“….The Messenger, Gentiana….”

Ardyn stood up, turning his back to you, shoulders shaking with laughter. “Ah, of course! The icy witch sticks her nose where it doesn’t belong.” Ardyn laughed harshly, “And I suppose she told you what a horrid monster the ‘Accursed’ was. Impure of body and soul I believe are the words most often used.”

“Yes, she did,” you answered him. “And she is correct; you have changed Ardyn, as have I. We are not as we once were.”

“Then why do you remain?!” Ardyn snarled, spinning around to face you, “Run! Leave me, as they all did! There is nothing to stop you, so go!”

Golden eyes met (e/c) eyes as the two of you held each other’s gaze. Carefully you leaned forward and grasped his hands within your own, feeling the warmth of his skin and the smooth leather of his glove.

“Ardyn, for the past 12 years I have thought of nothing but you and our poor son. I wished to see you two more than anything in the world. And when I finally got that wish…I forsook it because I did not wish to see what you had become.” You let your fingers loop between his own, enjoying the contact; “Yes, we have changed, perhaps not for the better. But…I know that despite that, I still love you.”

He stared at your interlinking fingers as your words sunk in before looking to you once more, the look of anger replaced by one of sorrow. “(f/n)….I am not the man I once was.”

“Then I suppose I will just have to charm you once more,”

Ardyn chuckled, “seems I won’t stand a chance.”

And so it went; for the next few days as you rested Ardyn remained at your side, regaling you with tales of his existence. Some stories were sad, others humorous; but none of that truly mattered to you. What you loved most of all was knowing that even though so much had changed, you still found it easy to care for the silly man. And while he spoke of his time on Eos, you told him of your arrival at the Citadel and journey as a member of the Kingsglaive. He couldn’t help but marvel at the combat skills you acquired and feel a slight bang of gratitude to the late King Regis for taking you in, if only a little.

It was uncomfortable at first, but carefully you both peeled away each other’s armor plating and bore your scars to one another once again; slowly trust began to between you two, but not all at once. For every step forward one of you took, the other would take two steps backward. It was difficult; but it was at least progress.

Though the day soon came when your injuries had healed to a point where bedrest was no longer required, meaning it was time for you to return to Noctis’ side once more.

“The young prince is currently making his way toward the Vesperpool, where we shall await him. I’m quite certain your reunion will be a touching one.”

You laughed, “I’m sure those boys will have a lecture for me instead.”

“Not unlikely, so do prepare yourself.” Ardyn chuckled as he led you toward his automobile and holding the passenger door open. “After you, my dear.”

You blinked in surprise, “we are traveling by car?”

“How else are we to get there? And don’t worry, I am certain you will enjoy the ride (f/n).”

Looking to the vehicle, you could not help the grin that came to your face. The car was certainly Ardyn’s, that was for sure. Painted a magenta-red the exact shade of his own hair with a white racing stripe down the middle from bumper to bumper. Being a convertible the roof was down, allowing you a view of the dark leather upholstery of the interior. Along the side was a few stickers while a red moogle pom-pom was pinned atop the antenna. Over all it was a lovely car, if a little eccentric in appearance and advanced in age.

“This is quite the car,” you spoke as you slid into the passenger seat.

“I believe I will take that as a compliment.”

The car roared to life and Ardyn drove out of Aracheole Stronghold and onto the road, heading north-west to the Vesperpool. The drive was rather long, but you were both content to sit in silence and enjoy the scenery, with Ardyn humming merrily aloud. When the two of you finally arrived, you sat within the car for a few extra minutes after Ardyn cut the engine, thinking of the words you should say.

“……I will be in Altissia within the following days,” Ardyn spoke, turning to face you. “We can speak once more there.”

“Of course,” you nodded.

“I also wished to give this to you.” Ardyn continued, placing your old ocarina in your hands, “it belongs with you….”

Ardyn I- “you paused, before giving him a small smile. “I will see you again.”

“Until our next meeting, my sweet nymph.”

To say the boys lectured you was an understatement. Prompto had hugged you so fiercely, you were certain your ribs might have cracked again had Ignis not interfered. Curious as to what caused your injuries, you told them you were attacked by daemons (which was technically the case) when Ardyn saved you. Though they were suspicious of Ardyn’s so-called ‘heroic’ actions, they begrudgingly thanked the older man, who smirked smugly at them the entire time.

While waiting for the doors to the Steyliff Grove to open, the boys spoke to you of their encounters and the blessings that Noctis was to collect from the Astrals. You smiled at Prompto’s enthusiasm when he spoke of Ramuh blasting an Imperial base to pieces as well as their encounter with Ravus before heading toward Cape Caem. Noctis and Ignis did question you to be sure you were not troubled during your time in Imperial hands, which you answered with a truthful no. Unfortunately, due to your weak state, you had to wait outside while Commodore Aranea Highwind escorted the boys to the mythril, as you would be more of a hindrance than assistance.

When the boys returned, you told them Ardyn had already left while Aranea offered the four of you a ride back to Lestallum. You were certainly surprised to see the Disc of Cauthess missing the meteor, which was when Ignis spoke of the Empire slaying the gods like they did Shiva. It was surprising news; but you knew that with Ardyn at the helm, there was no stopping it, especially with that prophecy.

“By the way, where’s Gladio?” you asked on the flight back to Lestallum.

Prompto shrugged, “not sure. The big guy said he had something to take care of.”

“I just hope he’s okay…”

“He’ll be fine. You should really just enjoy the extra space while you can,” Noctis added.

You laughed, “no problem.”

Upon arrival, you were asked to help with an issue at the power plant; though this time Noctis travelled inside alone. When he returned at a few hours later with the ‘hunter’ you were not surprised to see it was Gladio behind the helmet. Though the King’s Shield did have some choice words for you about exploring at night and daemons before pulling you into a hug, glad for your return. With the mythril prepared and the five of you reunited, it was time to set sail for Altissia. If only you knew of the changes that were to come….

There we go, the end of chapter 5! I hope you all enjoyed it and I’ll be sure to post the next one soon. Sorry if it takes a while, as I am watching E3 conferences XD. Also send some love to @maty-yami, as this story was born from her fantastic prompt idea. Thanks guys and have a great week! ^_^

[fanfic-collection]

In a Name: Ch 13

The people @pabegay1 @kristenscamander  @hannah-caitlynn @graysonmalfoy @falltoashes @solsticestorm @bingewatchingmylifegoby @elenoranave @incadinkadoo @melanin—senpai @juuliiaa05 @sigridlaufeyson @ihaveanobsessenproblem @oneweirdfangirl

Loki led you down corridor after corridor, down passageways you had never seen or heard of before. At long last, you came down a set of old wooden stairs that led to a solitary door. You felt hesitant, but Loki continued pressing on, clearly confident in his chosen route. With a wave of his hand, and a faint shimmering glow, the door swung outward and you found yourselves in a dark forest, what felt like miles from the main castle.

You stood uncertainly in the doorway, looking out into the night gloom; the trees blocked most of the moonlight from where you stood. Loki held his hand out to you, silently offering guidance. Breathing in deeply, you took his chilly hand in yours and continued after him. There was a single dirt path, clearly rarely used, that Loki led you on. His hand was a comforting presence wrapped around your own as he led you through the gloom. Then suddenly you broke free of the thick overhanging branches and entered into a small clearing. Looking onward, you saw that the meadow spread out into a large lake. As you approached the waters, Loki still leading the way, you exhaled softly. “Wow, it is beautiful.” You murmured. Loki nodded though he didn’t look back, still examining the dark waters. They reflected the night sky perfectly, as though a mirror rested on the ground. No breeze disturbed its surface so the stars were free to shimmer and sparkle in the water like a continuation of the inky blanket of night. A dock led a short distance over the water and Loki soon gently tugged you towards it then out over the water. Under your combined weight, the wood creaked quietly. “Oh look,” you hummed softly, finally having reached the end of the dock, a ways over the water. You knelt down to examine small vine like bushes that tangled on the wood and had started to grow upwards. “Water berries.” “So that’s what they’re called.” Loki replied mildly, he stood a short distance behind you and you couldn’t quite see him out of the corner of your eye. The berries were small and white, they resembled pearls growing among the thick foliage. “You know, these have quite the healing properties.” “Do they now?” Loki murmured. You heard movement behind you and turned to reply but stopped as your mouth fell open. You watched in shock as Loki dove into the water. For a moment you swore he had removed his clothes. Then glancing down, you confirmed it. All his armor lay discarded on the dock, just a short distance from you. And not just his armor, you concluded in horror, everything. “Loki!” You gasped as the prince resurfaced. “I mean my prince!” You stammered, quick to correct yourself. Loki burst into laughter; genuine mirth bubbling through. “It’s just the two of us (Y/n), that is your name, right guard?” You bit your lip warily. Not a single part of you believed that he had forgotten your name, or was unsure of it in the least. It almost felt like he was asking permission to use it. “It is, my prince.” Loki rolled his eyes, and after a moment of contemplation, he splashed you. You gasped, jumping back at the sudden water. The prince absolutely howled with laughter, clearly enjoying your response. You knelt down by the water and splashed him back. Titles be damned, he started this. Loki ducked under water, easily avoiding your retaliation. He resurfaced a few meters away. “You’re not going to get me back that way.” He smirked, splashing more water up at you. Presumably with his seidr. “My armour will get wet.” Loki smirked, “Guess you’ll have to remove it.” You brushed crimson, “Prince Loki!” You could see his lean shoulders shrugging as he eyed you mischievously. “That’s not appropriate!” Loki rolled his eyes again. “Well, I’m too far from you now, as my guard, how are you ever going to protect me from something in the water.” You glared at him, “I can throw my knives.” Loki splashed you again, moving further away. “Oh no, the assailant has dodged or perhaps blocked them, whatever shall I do? My guard meant to protect me, did she not?” Loki flailed his hands before finishing his mocking speech with a pointed look at you. You hesitated, “What if someone sees?” “It’s just us, darling, I’m the only one who frequents this lake.” You saw an escape and took it, “Well then clearly it’s safe to swim alone.” Loki huffed before dipping under the water again. Nervously, you peered closer at the water, slightly wary of him being out of your sight for too long; you did have a duty to the crown after all. Loki resurfaced just inches away from you at the dock’s edge. He held a number of water berries in his hand. “You said these are for healing, yes?” You nodded slowly. Loki hesitated, as though bracing himself to trust you. Slowly he turned around and moved his hair to the side. “My armour blocked much of it, but not all.” He mumbled quietly, “I was thinking of going to the palace healers when the pain grew too much, but for now, I wanted their full attention on my brother. It’s my fault after all.” You leaned closer in the night light, trying to see past the shadows cast by his hair. Finally, unable to truly look, you resigned yourself to touching the feathery strands and moving them further to the side. You were able to see what he was talking about. There were deep and frankly severe burns along the upper part of his neck. Like he had fallen to the ground and flames burst over him. He must be in immense pain, you realized. “Oh Loki.” You whispered faintly, quickly pulling away. Loki shrugged his hair back before turning around once more to face you. “It’s not that bad, really.” Then he hesitated a moment. “I am just teasing, I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I’ve just seen you working so diligently, it seemed fair to offer you a break.” You sighed before frowning ruefully, “I can’t be expected to leave my prince in such a state, especially if I’m capable of fixing it.” Then briefly glancing upwards, as though seeking advice from the heavens, you sighed again. “And the berries do work best when fresh and in the waters they’ve grown from.” Loki’s smile returned, “And it can’t hurt to have a little fun. But those other things too of course.” You chuckled, shaking your head in weak disapproval. “Fine.” Then you straightened your face and glared at him. “Don’t peek. Don’t even look until I say something.” Loki held his hand out of the water, the other was beneath the surface but you figured it was over his heart. “You have my solemn word, as prince.” “Prince of lies,” you muttered, loudly enough for him to hear. “Silver tongue.” Loki snorted. “I’ll cover my eyes, if that makes you feel better.” “And turn around.” Loki groaned dramatically. “Fine, fine.” He said once his back was to you. “I’m serious. And it’s just so my armour doesn’t get tarnished, because this is quite improper.” Loki groaned again, “Yes, yes, now hurry up or I’ll turn around.” You glared at him, searching for signs of deceit but he remained in place. Finally, mentally cursing all the realms for putting you in this predicament, you began to strip your armor. You considered leaving on the flimsier undergarments but knew they would be soaked through, and any attempts you had had to save the water damage from your regular gear would be for naught. After all, the armour was better protected on the outside for regular weather wear and tear. Also, trying to swim in such gear would be nearly impossible. With one last steel of your resolve, reminding yourself implicitly of your purpose, you removed the last garment of your clothing and slipped into the water. “Can I turn around now?” Loki grumbled. “Yes, alright, I’m in the water.” You floated there for a moment, enjoying the exhilaration of being free of the confines of all your gear and nearly weightless in the water. It was a delightful temperature, just slightly chilly but it soothed your aching muscles after such a long day. You sighed and leaned your head back in the water, allowing your hair to get wet. You floated like that for a moment, just staring up at the heavens and admiring the star strewn sky. “Isn’t it a lovely view?” Loki’s voice from close by startled you out of your reverie. You quickly looked down at the water, double checking that nothing was visible. The night’s reflection left the water inky, just as you had first suspected. “It’s nearly clear during the day.” Loki muttered wistfully, almost seeming… disappointed? That what, he couldn’t indulge in some voyeurism? You frowned reproachfully. Though truth be told, finding yourself like this beside the young prince had excited you in ways you hadn’t expected. Like touching his soft hair, it had felt so pleasant. You wondered if his pale skin would feel as nice. Some naïve part of you imagined it would feel like marble or ivory. “Isn’t the water lovely though? Freeing almost.” Loki smiled at you. It was warm and quite unlike his usual smirk. “It truly is, my lord.” Loki sighed again, rolling his eyes. “I wouldn’t mind being friends, or at least companions, perhaps if nothing else, like the warriors three.” “Or my cousin?” You added, feeling annoyed. Loki sighed, “No, Sif is hardly a companion. A battle partner certainly and I trust her for that, but being here… with you.” He trailed off, “She and the others would mock me for enjoying such a solitary place.” Loki’s mouth snapped shut and he furrowed his brow, seeming surprised that he had just admitted that. “Some solitary is nice, how else would we find time to think?” You hesitated, “Thank you for sharing this though. No one deserves complete solitary.” “Even the dark prince himself? The god of lies and mischief?” Loki tilted his head to the side. “Certainly not.” A newer, more genuine warm smile graced Loki’s features and it warmed your heart; even your face, as you smiled back - were you blushing? “Err, right. So water berries.” You looked back towards the dock. Loki followed your gaze, “Right, yes, of course.” He coughed quickly and turned away. “Let’s put these famed healing powers to the test.” You said as you began rummaging through the thick leaves for more berries. “I trust your apothecary skills completely.” Loki smiled, following suit. After a few more minutes, the two of you had managed to gather a handful of berries. “Yes, so,” You stared down at the berries nervously. “First to mash them into a paste.” Loki’s intense green gaze bore down on your hands. You fumbled nervously under his stare, nearly dropping the berries. “Here, the water is kind of chilly.” Loki cupped your hands in his, holding them still and allowing you to more easily crush the berries. You felt that familiar electrical jolt run up your arms at his touch. Mindful of your breathing, you focused more intently on the berries and crushing them to a proper pulp. “They look quite pasty now.” Loki’s quiet murmur startled you from your task. “Oh right!” You quickly pulled your hands from his and moved back a short distance. Loki stayed put, watching you curiously. Trying to ignore him, you dipped the berry mush under the water, wrapping your hands together and only allowing a small amount of moisture to seep in. “Alright, ready?” Loki turned around, shifting his hair to the side so you could work better. He had moved over to the dock and gripped some of the bushes to still himself. You swam closer, stopping as close to him as you dared, constantly reminding yourself of your current state of undress. Finally, seeing no other way out, you rested one hand on his shoulder and used the other to smear the paste on the back of his neck. The temperature of his skin was surprisingly cold, and if you hadn’t been so focused on the burn, you might have worried of him catching a cold. Loki tensed at your touch, but as you began massaging the pulpy mixture into his skin, you could feel him relax. As you continued massaging it on, Loki let out a soft hum of contentment, which slowly turned into a groan. You pulled away fearful that you had hurt him. “No, please don’t stop.” Loki had turned his torso back towards you, “The burning had stopped.” “Did I hurt you?” Conflict flashed through his eyes, as though he struggled to choose the right words. “No. It felt nice.” “Very well.” You nodded for him to turn around once more. After you had applied the last of the berries, Loki moved away from the dock and stretched out on his back, letting the burn soak beneath the surface of the water. “Thank you.” He murmured contentedly. “I’m glad I could help.” Part of you was curious what he had seemed conflicted about, but you felt it was best not to push the matter, especially after having him be so open about this place. It wasn’t without reason that he was known for his secrets and mystery. The two of you swam around lazily for a short while longer, just enjoying the quiet waters, each lost in their own thoughts. After a time, you helped Loki wipe off the paste, pleased to see that the burn already looked less severe. “You should have a healer look at that.” You muttered as you got out of the water. Loki had agreed to stay in with his back to you and eyes covered. You could sense him rolling his eyes, even though he promised they were closed. “You’re worse than my mother.” He grumbled. “She cares about you.” You said as you turned around, “Alright, you can get dressed now. I won’t peek.” Through the sound of gentle splashing of Loki exiting the water, you heard his distinct snicker. “That’s fine.” You rolled your eyes, but still kept them covered with your hands. “Are you decent?” “As I’ll ever be.” Loki replied, dramatic as ever, stepping once more in front of you. “Very well, shall we return then?” You smiled, taking his outstretched hand. At first you had been concerned about yours and Loki’s wet hair, but he had conjured a small flame and helped you dry yours. The walk back into the palace seemed half as long as the trek outward. Between the two of you, no words were spoken, still enjoying the calm silence. Loki finally broke the quiet when you had led him to his room once more. “She does care about me, doesn’t she?” It took you a moment to realize what he was talking about. “The queen, yes, absolutely. She loves you dearly, you can see it in everything she does for you.” You smiled warmly, trying to reassure him through a look alone. Loki nodded slowly, “Perhaps.” He was about to close the door when another thought seemed to occur to him, “Do you?” You tilted your head, “Of course.” Once more you smiled. Loki bowed his head stiffly before allowing the door to latch shut. You stayed there a moment, not entirely certain of what just happened. Finally you resigned yourself to wondering about it overnight, and made your way back to the guards’ quarters.