#🗡~ 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒏 // 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅

[oakthcrn]

𝑺𝑯𝑬 𝑶𝑭𝑻𝑬𝑵 𝑾𝑬𝑵𝑻 𝑾𝑨𝑳𝑲𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑨𝑴𝑶𝑵𝑮 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑪𝑶𝑷𝑷𝑬𝑹 𝑪𝑶𝑳𝑶𝑹𝑬𝑫 𝑻𝑹𝑬𝑬𝑺. The perpetual autumn had left a chill in the air, and  Queen Larkspur Oakthorn I wrapped her arisaid around her shoulders as she walked. Harvestine was drawing near, and soon Autumnal; a great celebration of harvest and hearth. Days of dancing, singing, and good food, it was the official holiday of her realm, and once she adored. Every year she would come up with something new and exciting for her people to celebrate. This year, she would host a grand tourney. She was the Queen of Swords after all. 

For the moment, she walked, her long dark gown billowing a train of light fabric behind her. She needed some time to think and solitude would be scant the closer Autumnal drew near. Moving through the sea of oak trees, she sensed something amiss. Furrowing her brows, she stepped forward until she saw the shape of someone. Her sapphire hues widened as she drew near the other. 

How was a being able to enter her realm? More specifically, how did she not sense a ripple in the schism? It was a human? No…not quite human. Was that how it was able to traverse the Forest of Umbra and live to tell the tale? It was a beautiful human thing…with long golden hair. Lark canted her head and studied him. 

❝ 𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞? ❞ She asked as she rested her hand lazily on the hilt of her blade. 

❝ 𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐲𝐞 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞, 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐫? ❞ she asked before checking them over for any kind of injuries. 

@dhampirul

[oakthcrn]

❝  𝐀𝐡'𝐦 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧' 𝐰𝐢𝐭 𝐲𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧' 𝐚 𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤, 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬.  ❞ 

"Man, you know how often I actually hear this? You're all like 'Omg you're such a terrible person' but when I do all the cartwheels and gymnastics to be better, I'm still the asshole. It's like, not adding up."

[oakthcrn]

𝑳𝑨𝑹𝑲 𝑭𝑶𝑹 𝑨 𝑳𝑨𝑪𝑲 𝑶𝑭 𝑨 𝑩𝑬𝑻𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑫; 𝑯𝑨𝑫 𝑹𝑼𝑵 𝑨𝑾𝑨𝒀 𝑭𝑹𝑶𝑴 𝑯𝑶𝑴𝑬. How could she even begin to explain that she was a condemnable bloodsucker? That she had become some monster that relied on blood to survive? Damn blood mages, damn Tevinter. She was feeling low, and while she had never tasted human blood, the blood of ox and rabbits had sustained her. The taste was disgusting but it was better than the alternative. 

Letting out a soft, morose sigh, Lark remained curled up on the floor, her knees to her chest as she sulked beside Claude's desk. She needed to track down Aurelia Amadeus and murder her for what she had done. For that, she needed the Crows. She sighed. 

She glanced up at Claude working at his desk.

❝ 𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐞? ❞ she asked before slowly standing to see what he was working on. 

@blightworn liked for a vampy starter.

[oakthcrn]

𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑫𝑬𝑳𝑳𝑨𝑴𝑶𝑹𝑻𝑬 𝑪𝑬𝑳𝑳𝑨𝑹 𝑯𝑨𝑫 𝑩𝑬𝑪𝑶𝑴𝑬 𝑯𝑬𝑹 𝑩𝑬𝑫𝑹𝑶𝑶𝑴. It had been a month since she returned from her captivity. It bothered her that Aurelia Amadeus still lived. The anger dwelled deep within her. She took so much from her. She could no longer walk in the sun. She had to sustain herself on blood--cow's blood was nasty but it got the job done--and she could no longer enjoy food as she once did. 

Lark could understand Lucanis' anger towards Zara, not that she didn't before, she just felt it more keenly. She had moved to the Dellamorte estate, they had several basements and one without windows. It made it easy for Lark to sleep during the day. Lucanis had been accommodating and it seemed he didn't spare any expense to make it an actual bedroom, though she had a feeling that Viago also contributed to the cost for there was some House de Riva heraldry on the wall. Lark did like the wallpaper. The most important thing it was windowless, and it was cozy. 

Sighing softly, she settled on her bed and kicked her feet idly. She wasn't quite ready to be around people, and she didn't need to eat to survive, so going to dinner would be awkward. Why did she feel like she was still a prisoner? 

Just then, she heard distant footsteps. She blinked and canted her head. Maker, she could tell who was drawing near by gait alone. How interesting. The subtle scent of coffee and cologne tickled her nostrils. Lucanis! He was probably coming to check up on her. How thoughtful, he was a busy man, after all.  Lark smoothed out the wrinkles of her long skirt and called out to him.  ❝ 𝐘𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐧, 𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐬, 𝐲𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐤. ❞ She said and got up to open the door. 

@perditus gets a vampire lark.

[oakthcrn]

𝑰𝑻 𝑾𝑨𝑺 𝑨𝑵 𝑨𝑵𝑪𝑰𝑬𝑵𝑻 𝑻𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑻𝒀 𝑻𝑯𝑨𝑻 𝑯𝑨𝑫 𝑳𝑨𝑹𝑲 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑵𝑫𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑨𝑻 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑩𝑶𝑹𝑫𝑬𝑹 𝑶𝑭 𝑯𝑬𝑹 𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑳𝑴. A great schism had sundered the realm of humans and the realm of fae. A treaty was enacted in hopes of finding a semblance of peace between the two realms. Autumnal Queen Larkspur Oakthorn I knew her ancestors had the wards in place to keep the humans out. The treaty had her hands tied, and so, every hundred years, Lark would lower just a piece of the wall to allow the sacrifice--or more endearingly known as her bride or groom--through the schism. That is where she stood now. In the archway, she stood like a marble statue, still and every bit regal. Her freckled face and deep blue eyes, along with her pointed ears were a giveaway to her fae ancestry. 

Canting her head to the side, she studied Sabu, her expression remained unreadable as she glanced at the Yakuza lord. 

❝ 𝐈𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐦?  ❞ She shifted her gaze back to Sabu.

 ❝ 𝐎𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐲𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐚𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤. 𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬? ❞ 

@saburaito liked for a starter.

[oakthcrn]

𝑳𝑨𝑹𝑲𝑺𝑷𝑼𝑹 𝑯𝑨𝑫 𝑱𝑼𝑺𝑻 𝑭𝑰𝑵𝑰𝑺𝑯𝑬𝑫 𝑯𝑬𝑹 𝑩𝑨𝑻𝑯.  The alluring scents of rosehip mixed with sandalwood, juniper, and the familiar smell of Antivan oranges were in the air, billowing through the room. She had been settled at her bureau, where she tended to dry her hair. She had been twirling her ginger waves around her hand where heat from her fire magic dried the strands in just a way to keep them healthy and the waves pronounced. She wore a warm sleeping gown. Her day had been busy. 

She had spent the majority of the day with Caterina planning the wedding. Soon they would be separated for a week, and while it was a mark of their wedding, she hated the idea of not seeing her love for an entire week. Her dress had been completed and Teia was nice enough to house it in a locked room. No one but Lark, Caterina, and Teia had seen it. She helped design the dress and was proud of it. She spent the day tasting foods, picking out the scores for the wedding, crafting invitations, and overseeing the wardrobes for House de Riva. It had been tiring. 

She hadn't even got to see Lucanis throughout the day, which had dampened her mood. The bright side, she would be his wife soon, and that did fill her with excitement. 

Suddenly, she heard the quiet knocking, and Lark looked up and nearly jumped when she sat Lucanis. Amusement was evident in her sapphire eyes. Not wise for a Crow to be so lost in thought, but Lucanis wasted no time in pulling her into his warm embrace. A soft chuckle escaped her as she planted a sweet kiss on his lips. 

❝ 𝐅𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐞, 𝐚𝐡 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝. ❞ She replied and smiled before pulling away to close the window and draw the drapes. She returned to Lucanis gently removed his cloak and draped it over the back of her armchair before leading him to sit at the end of the bed. 

❝ 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧, 𝐦𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐞'𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤. ❞ She frowned slightly at the idea of being separated but Tradition was important. A rueful smile appeared on her freckled face. 

❝ 𝐀𝐥𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡, 𝐚𝐡 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧' 𝐚 𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐬𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞 𝐑𝐢𝐯𝐚 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐨. ❞ she went on and chuckled. She leaned against his shoulder and wrapped her arms around his. 

❝ 𝐀𝐡 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐲𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐧' 𝐰𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐧𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐲 𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐬. ❞ 

@oakthcrn - where did you come from? for Lucanis <3

question prompts // always accepting

Lucanis hoists himself up and over the ledge, slipping through the window as the cold breeze trails behind him. A bit of noise from the market fills the background a bit but otherwise it's quiet in Treviso, the lack of Antaam more noticeable now that things have calmed down. Another person might have used the front door to enter the Dellamorte Estate but Lucanis wasn’t particularly keen to be ambushed tonight. Tensions within the Crows were still high after he had made his intentions clear, the older Houses erupting in outrage at the mere suggestion. 

          Not that he cared about them that much anyways. 

No, his attention is entirely focused on Lark this evening. Traversing the rooftops until he found the window where she was might have been a little extra, but the Dellamortes were certainly known for their flair. Slipping through the window quietly is easy enough, the assassin’s training far too thorough. Of course he’s smart enough to knock on the frame moments after entering the room, not too keen on being stabbed. 

          “ From down below ” Lucanis hums, reaching up to allow his hood to drop before closing the distance between them. Spite is absent for the time being, sated by his previous harassment of a few unruly Crows prior.

He wastes no time in pulling her close to him, a soft smile on his face as he sneaks his arms around her carefully. “ I was hoping you might make some time for me mi amor ”

[oakthcrn]

𝑳𝑶𝑺𝑻 𝑾𝑨𝑺 𝑶𝑵𝑬 𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑫 𝑭𝑶𝑹 𝑰𝑻. Lark had spent the better part of the morning touring the palace and listening to the queen speak of her son like he was some sort of deity. Lark couldn't blame her; she wanted to convince Lark to marry her son and secure a long-lasting alliance between her home and Lark's. It was a good strategy, but Lark had grown weary of it. Lark had no intention to marry, only to observe the old custom between the two realms. She would've spirited herself away back to her beloved Manon, but an old treaty dictated her actions now. 

She had gotten away from the queen in search of a moment of respite. Her pointed ears made her stand out, and she ignored the servants who gawked. It was only natural to be curious, and Lark was used to such a thing. Just as she turned the corner, she came face to face with the Prince. The Autumnal Queen sidestepped him and frowned, her freckled face remained impassive as he spoke. 

❝ 𝐍𝐚𝐞. ❞ She replied and examined the prince with an inquisitive eye. So this was the one being forced to marry? She arched a coppery brow and continued speaking. 

❝ 𝐀𝐡 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚'𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐡'𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭. 𝐘𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞. ❞ She glanced at his reading material. 

❝ 𝐍𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲? 𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞�� 𝐢𝐧 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐜, 𝐲𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬? ❞ 

VISITORS WERE SO RARE IN THE CASTLE. he had grown accustom to only seeing the faces of his parents. forbidden from seeing the common rabble, they worried that his personality would be jarring to the public. holding books in his hands, they were of the dark nature - his interests were in the grander scheme ... dark magic. he wanted to learn how to conjure spirits & raise the dead. something that most would consider overly morbid. pausing in his step, he regards her with a glance. she looks lost in the castle, it's easy to do. " are you here to see the king? " he asks, some disdain in his tone. his greatest flaw, he cannot stand his own position as prince. wanting to gather the power to become the king himself; waiting for marriage was something that caused an ache in his chest. / @oakthcrn

[oakthcrn]

❝ 𝐘𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐦. 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐭 𝐲𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐟𝐮𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐢𝐞.   ❞ 

@oakthcrn is in the hands of a healer

"Ui," He said brows furrowing as he listened. "I was raised in the North by what you call Fae here. There are skirmishes here and there between your kind and men but nothing like what you've described, my lady."

[oakthcrn]

❝ 𝐒𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐝𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝. 𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭...𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚 𝐨𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧' 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬...𝐚𝐡 𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐚𝐡 𝐜𝐚𝐧.  ❞ 

@oakthcrn || ♥︎

"I can see the fear in your eyes, but you can't bring yourself to scream."

[oakthcrn]

𝑳𝑨𝑹𝑲 𝑫𝑰𝑫𝑵'𝑻 𝑪𝑨𝑹𝑬 𝑭𝑶𝑹 𝑪𝑹𝑶𝑾𝑫𝑬𝑫 𝑻𝑨𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑵𝑺. She wished to have met Zevran in Arlathan Forest or the Necropolis, but there were advantages to being in a busy tavern. Her face blurred with the rest of the rowdy patrons, and despite her coppery ginger hair in a sea of brunettes and blondes, no one seemed to know who she was or what she was fighting for. It had been a gamble reaching out to Zevran through the Inquisition's channels. She was afraid that once he met her, he thought it was some sort of Crow trap and run. 

She was seated at a small table in the corner, away from the bustling bar. Her hair was pulled back into a fat, sloppy braid, her gloved finger tapping idly on the wooden table as she waited for her guest. When he appeared, Lark didn't expect him to look quite so handsome. She pushed the thought away. She stood and offered a timid smile. Full of compliments. She had heard stories of Zevran's legendary charm and she had no intention of being swayed by them. She shook her head and got right to the point. 

❝ 𝐘𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐫𝐤, 𝐢𝐟 𝐢𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐞. ❞ She replied and studied him quietly, her sapphire hues inspecting every inch of him to make sure he wasn't about to bolt. When she felt satisfied, she sat down and motioned for the other to sit as well. 

❝ 𝐀𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧' 𝐚𝐡 𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐲, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐡 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭 𝐲𝐞. 𝐀𝐡 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐲𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐬. 𝐀𝐡 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬, 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐡'𝐦 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞, 𝐲𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲, 𝐲𝐞'𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐨 𝐨𝐟 𝐅𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐧. 𝐘𝐞𝐫 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞 𝐰𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐮𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞. ❞ Nothing like ripping off the bandaid. Honesty was her best policy, and yet that probably made her a terrible Crow. 

❝ 𝐀𝐡 𝐰𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐞 𝐣𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐚 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐦, 𝐙𝐞𝐯𝐫𝐚𝐧. ❞ She wasn't charming. She couldn't use honeyed words to convince him to join her, only the truth. 

❝ 𝐖𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐢𝐧' 𝐠𝐨𝐝𝐬. 𝐀𝐡 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐝, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐡 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐚𝐡 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐠𝐞𝐭.  ❞ 

@oakthcrn liked this post for a Dragon Age Starter!

Zevran had heard about the veilguard and Lark who was leading them through word by one of his good friends, Leliana, who had been a part of the Inquisition. He had decided to offer up his services once more as he had with the fifth blight. After all, his Warden would have done the same. It was crazy to realize this was happening all over again.

However, after deciding to meet up with this Lark in a public tavern in Minrathous, it wasn't to say that the former crow hadn't done his homework on everyone, knowing that the person he would be going to meet was in fact part of the organization of people he had left so long ago and probably haunted with his reputation alone. Oh, the stories of what happened to House Aranai were entertaining to hear, and all his doing.

Having found a striking redhead elven woman, the assassin took a wild guess. "Excess me miss, but are you Lark? Or is it Rook? My...you didn't inform me in your letter that I might be working with a beautiful woman such as yourself, but consider my services yours, if you'll have me." He winked, giving a playful smile. "I'm Zevran Aranai, adventurer and occasional assassin. Perhaps you've heard of me, no?" He asked thoughtfully, gauging to see her reaction, and ready in case this was a trap.

[oakthcrn]

❝ 𝐚𝐡 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭, 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐞, 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐭 𝐲𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐧𝐚𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭 𝐦𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤. ❞

«ENTRAP» for the sender to capture the receiver in a trap made by the sender. got marie in a witchy trap, that will teach her to overwork.

". . .Lark, I'm not as magically inclined as you - I just need to do a few more things, and I swear i'll try and take a break, ok?"

Though, in knowing how marie tends to be, that break will either be non-existent, or simply do too short to be considered as such.

@oakthcrn

[oakthcrn]

𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑹𝑬 𝑾𝑨𝑺 𝑫𝑬𝑳𝑰𝑮𝑯𝑻 𝑺𝑯𝑰𝑴𝑴𝑬𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑰𝑵 𝑯𝑬𝑹 𝑺𝑨𝑷𝑷𝑯𝑰𝑹𝑬 𝑬𝒀𝑬𝑺. Going someplace casual. A place that didn't need the pretense of style or flare. While Lark understood the Crows' need for it, she was never one to be stylish or fashionable, not really. When not wearing her armor, she often found the practical and comfort outweighed the trends. A long skirt, a tartan pattern was her favorite and easily purchased in Little Starkhaven, a simple stay, and for chillier nights, an arisaid to wrap herself in, or a knitted shawl. She pondered what Lucanis had in store for her, and she found she was excited by the prospect. His gentle touch hadn't gone unnoticed, Maker, she wanted to step closer but refrained. He noted how his smile seemed to blossom across his fine face, and it made her want to see it every morning, and every evening. 

❝ 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠? ❞ She questioned, amusement brightening her face. 

❝ 𝐘𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐚 𝐰𝐞𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧' 𝐬𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐚𝐡 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐃𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞. ❞ She gave a little shrug. She hadn't taken that part all too seriously. While Lark was agreeable in the meeting, she was no pushover. Caterina had laid down her terms and Lark agreed to them, but there was no holdfast rule she must dress a certain way, and she made it known that for formal occasions, Lark would wear what was appropriate, and would even allow Caterina to design her dresses if that was her fancy. Nothing more. There would be time to hammer out those details later. Right now, she would rather stay where she was and be in good company. 

❝  𝐈𝐭'𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐨𝐨𝐧, 𝐧𝐚𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐭, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐡 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐲𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐋𝐢𝐥' 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐢𝐧, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐡'𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧' 𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐰𝐫𝐚𝐩.❞ Sadly her favorite wool wrap had gotten snatched during a skirmish with a Darkspawn and ruined. At least now she could make a new one with the Dellamorte name sewn into it. Speaking of which, she needed to brainstorm the perfect wedding gift for Lucanis. Something sentimental, and special, something only he would like. Coffee was too vague, she needed something else. Something to impress him. Something Jaw-dropping. 

So lost in her own thoughts that she barely noticed when Lucanis leaned in for a moment, his cheeks flushed a bit. Her heart pounded, there was yearning within her stirring her, and just as she was about to step forward, he pulled away, leaving her a bit besotted. She remained composed despite the hammering of her heart. 

❝ 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐭, 𝐚𝐲𝐞, 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭.❞ She fumbled through her words a bit and rubbed the back of her neck. She didn't want him to go. 

❝ 𝐎𝐫…𝐰𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐠𝐨 𝐟𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐈𝐭𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧' 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐨��𝐟 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐞𝐝𝐬 𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐰. ❞ Every year the canals would be speckled with a vibrant blue-green color that made the water shimmer. People speculated it was magic to make Treviso more attractive to tourists, but the locals knew that it was just the migrating organisms in the waterbeds themselves, wee creatures too small to the naked eye. Lark liked to think nature had a magic to it all its own. One that couldn't be wielded by mages or people. 

She moved to grab her arisaid and began to wrap it around herself. She placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a little squeeze before smiling. 

❝ 𝐂'𝐦𝐨𝐧, 𝐂è𝐢𝐥𝐞 , 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐧. ❞ 

   Patience was his strong suit. 

In the wake of countless tragedies, Lucanis could finally admit all the suffering was worth it. Navigating life on his own had been a test of endurance, one he had assumed would lead to his inevitable death. Enduring Caterina’s ruthless, near inhumane training regime had left him jaded early in life. Even with Illario by his side the assassin had simply settled for a life with no future, wishing only the best for those around him. That year in the Ossuary had convinced him he was right to be jaded, that his predictions had finally caught up with him. 

Then, a streak of orange had entered his life and yanked him from that bottomless pit. In both a metaphorical and literal sense even. 

Lucanis lets her speak, noticing how her grip tightened ever so slightly. He lets his thumb trace idly over his skin while she responds, his smile growing slightly. Truthfully he was wracking his brain for a proper response, having not quite expected to get this far so soon. Spite laughs in the back of his mind at the assassin’s dilemma, thoroughly enjoying the Dellamorte internal drama unfolding before him. Once again the demon goes ignored, but Spite doesn’t mind. For now. 

          “ I will take you somewhere casual. I’d still prefer you have more time to adjust to things around here ” Lucanis assures her, his voice gentle. “ Later we can take you shopping but you don’t need to worry about it too much. I am courting you for who you are not who you think you need to be ” 

One of the main struggles he had found in life when navigating these situations had always been his name. Lucanis Dellamorte, heir to the First Talon, a man so many would willingly change themselves for. It was an understandable reaction of course but he had lost interest in so many before because of that fact. Illario had teased him for being dense, but it was a bit more nuanced than that. 

          “ I could say the same to you. Need I remind you who saved my life?” He responds, both amused, his eyes wandering down just a little. There’s a sudden break in his composure for a moment, his cheeks feeling a tad warmer than before now that she’s closer. For a second he leans forward, his gaze locked on her before he suddenly looks away. 

          “ I should let you rest. It’s been a long day..” It’s a lame excuse, enough so that Spite chews him out internally, but the assassin sticks with it. He finally pulls his hands away carefully, resting them on his hips now. 

[oakthcrn]

𝑳𝑨𝑹𝑲𝑺𝑷𝑼𝑹 𝑹𝑶𝑳𝑳𝑬𝑫 𝑯𝑬𝑹 𝑬𝒀𝑬𝑺 𝑨𝑻 𝑯𝑰𝑺 𝑪𝑶𝑴𝑴𝑬𝑵𝑻. Try and smell nice after days on the road. Condescending asshole. The sentiments rippled clearly in her mind, though she did not speak the words aloud. Sharing a body with the Darkling was growing more and more wearisome by the day and she needed reprieve from his constant presence. At least he respected her boundaries. Though, she doubted he had any interest in peering into her innermost thoughts; not without a hazard, her mind was a fortress. She proved that the moment he tried to take her over only to be repelled. At least her will was strong as steel. 

She had the power, his power, and her power, if she wanted to be cruel she could've shut him in that prison of silence with only his own regrets as a company and lived her life until she died. But then what would happen to Ravka if she lived that way? The Lantsov regime was destroying her day by day. Vasily was the proof of that. She could not allow those sycophants to continue their bloodletting of Ravka. She hated to admit it, Alexsander was the best option, not just for Ravka, but for Grisha. It would be a home where Grisha could live without fear. 

A beautiful idea it was, to live without fear. Her bath lasted a bit longer than normal, she took her time soaking her sore limbs and the silence was preferable to whatever Alexsander would be chattering away in her head. His ideals, his future Ravka. It was almost romantic in the way he depicted it. It was the reason Lark felt compelled to join him. At what cost would this new Ravka be? Sacrifices always had to be made in times of war. 

❝ 𝐎𝐡 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐫 ��𝐚𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧' 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨��𝐝. ❞ She bit back, sarcasm in her tone as she finished her meal. She couldn't wait to get him out of her head. She was sure he missed having a body and his power. 

❝ 𝐈𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐞, 𝐚𝐡'𝐦 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐞'𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐭𝐨 𝐊𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐦. ❞ 

While he might agree that if there could be an answer found in such a place, restricted levels of a library seemed the most likely candidate, there was still too much that gnawed at Aleksander. That itch against his very soul that could only be explained as the distance to his power, to that core part of who--of what--he was.

He could not remember the last time the shadows did not answer him. That he could not simply think, and have the darkness respond. To be so cut off from it, it was unnerving, rattling the very foundation of who he was.

Not that he would ever admit such things to Lark. Of course not.

And the Darkling might have rolled his eyes, dramatically sighing as he was incredibly put out when she cut him off. Not that he had any interest in her bathing habits, of course, but the silence that existed when there was absolutely nothing was perhaps worse than even the most inane chatter.

He'd take almost any noise, any nonsense, over the complete and utter quiet. The kind of silence that couldn't be pierced, that seemed to stretch beyond sight and sound, that held no end nor beginning...

But again, Aleksander had no intention of ever letting such a discomfort becoming known to Lark.

❝ You are far more presentable now at least. ❞ Had he actually been in possession of a face at that moment, the smirk would have been clear, the glint in his dark eyes obvious. ❝ And yes. The sooner our attention can return to Ravka's salvation, the better it will be. She has suffered under Lantsov regime for far too long, and you know how many suffer under that family. ❞

[oakthcrn]

𝑹𝑬𝑳𝑰𝑬𝑭 𝑭𝑳𝑰𝑪𝑲𝑬𝑹𝑬𝑫 𝑰𝑵 𝑯𝑬𝑹 𝑺𝑨𝑷𝑷𝑯𝑰𝑹𝑬 𝑬𝒀𝑬𝑺. It was good to know that Nikolai wasn't mad at her. She knew she had done a foolish thing. If only she could quell her temper as well as Zoya or Genya. She knew the remarks the nobility were making had gotten to them too. There was a protectiveness over Nikolai that was deep-seated in her, though she didn't know when it was planted. Perhaps it was when they first met and he flashed that charming smile at her, or when he began taking care of the working class. Perhaps it was the sad glimmer in his eyes when he thought no one was looking at him. He was a true friend to her. Had been since the first time they met, and it was that sincerity that made her betray the Darkling.  It was a friendship that endured hardships. It was good that Nikolai surrounded himself with people he trusted. Being a king was a lonely existence. 

❝ 𝐈 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐛𝐥𝐞. ❞ Lark said in response, frowning a bit. Nikolai shouldn't have to endure the taunts and gossip-mongering of the Ravkan court. There was so much to worry about. So much more at stake, and the nobility continued as it always does: ignore the issues at hand. They were good at that, and being a pain in Nikolai's side. She would have to rise above them, and not react. How they loved calling her a feral, wild thing. A Kaelish brute living in refined gentle society. It made her want to puke. 

Nikolai was leagues better than Vasily. Her coppery brows furrowed at the mere mention of that lech's name. It always made her skin crawl. She was not sorry when the Nichevo'ya tattered him into ribbons. Nikolai didn't need to know that, though. When Nikolai addressed her hand, she blinked and looked down at it with a curious glance. She gave a little shrug. 

❝ 𝐈𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐨𝐰𝐧, 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐥. ❞ Lark said despite the pain thrumming through it. She canted her head a bit to examine him, a small smile appearing on her face. 

❝ 𝐈'𝐯𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐀 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐢𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐞, 𝐢𝐟 𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭.  ❞ 

❝ no, you shouldn't have. but it's done now, we might as well laugh about it ❞ he'd spent too long of the day being serious anyway. it exhausted him, how pompous, traditional, pointless it all was. it made him yearn, at times, for the open sea. for his crew and his disguises. if only he did not love his country so much. ravka limped on, and so did he.

❝ right - so not very original then ❞ of course nikoali knew what they all said about him. bastard, that word had been thrown around all his life. in his weaker moments, he'd let him wound him. he'd been hurt, offended, even distraught at the idea he didn't belong. but those were his weak, private thoughts. to the public, to lark even, he had to turn the cheek, to never show it got to him, to indicate to everyone that it was all beneath him. ❝ given the fuss, I expected much worse. you know all those rumours aren't worth even addressing, it only feeds the fire ❞

but still he was touched by her loyalty, in a way. she'd always been a good friend to him, a true friend. that he was more grateful for then she'd ever know. especially when he was forced to take this position, to enforce his will when really he just wanted to laugh and clap her on the back. ❝ lark, I'm not angry at you. if anything, I feel a sort of appreciation you did what I couldn't. but please, next time - and there will be a next time, I'm afraid - just ignore them. that's what I do ❞

❝ of course I'm a better choice then vasily, my poor brother could barely get his head on straight when he had this job ❞ he says it cheerfully, a familiar jovial tone that did hide his pwn misgivings. of course he'd wondered the same thing at times, asking himself if he'd been the wrong choice. if ravka would have been better off with someone like vasily, who at least the people respected. but he can't voice those doubts to lark, can't give them wings and life to spread and germinate and infect even more people with his doubts. he focusses instead on her knuckles, a small frown ❝ you should get that hand looked at, it looks as if it's still paining you ❞

[oakthcrn]

𝑨 𝑭𝑳𝑨𝑴𝑬𝑺 𝑭𝑳𝑰𝑪𝑲𝑬𝑹𝑬𝑫 𝑩𝑬𝑻𝑾𝑬𝑬𝑵 𝑶𝑹𝑨𝑵𝑮𝑬 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑩𝑳𝑼𝑬 𝑯𝑶𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑬𝑫 𝑰𝑵𝑪𝑯𝑬𝑺 𝑭𝑹𝑶𝑴 𝑯𝑬𝑹 𝑷𝑨𝑳𝑴. She looked the Darkling over once to make sure he was in the correct position without damaging his wound even more. There was no look of hesitance or remorse in her eyes as if she had done this plenty of times before. She knew if a tailor was worth their salt, they'd be able to erase any trace of a scar. 

Her gaze dropped to the wound. How could her commander err so greatly? He had always been cold, calculating, and cautious, but this was just pure foolishness. What had compelled him to behave so irrationally? She had been surrounded by volcra as they made the crossing, but her fire had always been a powerful tool in rebuking them. Yet, the Darkling felt the need to intervene. He was either foolishly worried for her safety or something else lurked in the depthless dark. She wouldn't waste her time dwelling on it, they were out and safe for now. 

❝ 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭. ❞ She informed him as her fiery engulfed hand hovered over his flesh. It met with the severed flesh, and she pressed hard against it, her brows furrowed as she felt the skin melt together, a hissing sound could be heard. She ignored the stench. 

❝ 𝐓𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥. ❞ She instructed him, her jaw clenching. When she pulled her hand away, she examined the cauterized wound and nodded. It looked clean and straight. It would be enough for now until Alexander could get to a proper healer. Lark stood and flicked her wrist for a moment to extinguish the flame. 

❝ 𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐲𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤, 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥? ❞ 

"You're too stubborn for your own damn good." He retorted back, feeling the cold black blood in his veins heat up from irritation. Of course no words that left his pale dry lips would deter her from helping him. She reminded him much of himself.

"Fine. Make it quick."

The Darkling doesn't want to waste time or energy with arguing any further. He did as she said and bit down. While his power caused minor injury to be trifle, his wounds were much more larger in nature for once. Recklessness had gotten a hold on him. The price of being power-hungry and yet he'd never give up.

[oakthcrn]

𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑳𝑶𝑶𝑲 𝑰𝑵 𝑯𝑰𝑺 𝑬𝒀𝑬𝑺 𝑨𝑾𝑨𝑲𝑬𝑵𝑬𝑫 𝑺𝑶𝑴𝑬𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑾𝑰𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑵 𝑳𝑨𝑹𝑲.  She had never seen Glorfindel even frown. He seemed to always wear a smile or a serene look. She had been drawn to it; the way his smile lit up a room. Yet there was lightning in those emerald eyes. A protectiveness that stirred her heart into fluttering. She placed a hand on her chest in an attempt to quell the fast beating. 

Then he spoke. There was a knife-sharp edge to his politeness that Lark couldn't quite define. She had never seen this side of Glorfindel. Without realizing it, her cheeks had turned a light shade of pink. It obscured her freckles. She watched as Glorfindel shoved the other elf to the wall. When he turned to her, his usual demeanor returned as did his smile. 

Lark was left feeling confused and left feeling a little besotted. She gave a nod and took his hand in hers. His warmth seeped into her palm and she found she didn't want to let it go. She strolled alongside him until they were out of ear shot of any other elf. She exhaled a breath of relief and dared to glance up at the taller elf. She studied his face in silence as if trying to decipher a difficult puzzle. 

Once in the safety of her room, she closed the door behind them and pivoted to face him once more. 

❝ 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. ❞ Lark said and crossed her arms over her chest. 

❝ 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐩𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞. 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡, 𝐚𝐡 𝐝𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐦 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞. ❞ She went on. 

❝ 𝐖𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐢𝐧' 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲? ❞ She asked, deciding a change of subject was in order. 

There were perks to being powerful, Glorfindel knew them well. Elrond had sent him to be extra protection along the road between Imladris and Eryn Galen, growing threats providing ample concern to the Elven Lord. But it was evident that Larkspur was not fond of his constant watching over her, so once they had arrived, he had given her more space. Thranduil gave excellent celebrations, and Glorfindel soon found himself with Dorwinnion wine sloshing in his veins ( not that it affected him much anymore ) and a circle of laughing companions he barely knew.

But Larkspur was still in his thoughts, and in his attentions as well. His gaze returned to her often, checking in to make sure she was still alright.

Until she suddenly disappeared from the room, and alarm bells rang in his mind. He searched quickly, pulling away from the drunks who surrounded him, until he saw a lord disappear as well into a corridor that he knew had also been watching Lark. He could understand why, she drew others in without realizing it. But the look in the elf lords eye. . .

Glorfindel recognized it enough to follow quickly.

He had acted before he thought, towering over the ellon between him and Lark, with his vicelike grip on his wrist. His anger was obvious in his green eyes, flashing the like lightning of an impending storm. "I believe she asked you to unhand her, hir vuin." His low voice was filled with warning, though her voice cut through before the elf could answer, and Glorfindel listened attentively.

A pause followed as he contemplated her request, balancing it against the annoyance he felt as his forward behavior toward her. He would have to inform Thranduil later, for if this was how his court treated foreign envoys---"Very well. As you wish." He let him go and shoved a little harder than he meant to, and the elf slumped against the wall.

His hand clenched and unclenched, and he offered the other to her with his normal smile. "Come on then, let's get you to bed, hm?"