#(also why he wouldn’t wear his old circlet- he already looks enough like his old self and the circlet really locked it in- which he hates

[shaykai]

What does Nightmare feel being in his Passive form now? Does he like it or hate it?

He hates it, lots!

As far he’s concerned, he looks like the child that the villagers knew they could hurt (and did), he’s no longer the monster everyone fears, but the boy who couldn’t protect himself (also he misses his tentacles, they were useful both for combat/intimidation and for day to day things)

[thetravelerwrites]

Courtship of the Headless King: Chapter One

Rating: General Audiences Fandoms: 忘却の首と姫 | Boukyaku no Shirushi to Hime | The Princess and The Forgotten Head Relationship: Female Human/Male Headless King Additional Tags: Slow Burn, Political Marriage, Power Dynamic, Headless King Words: 4366

This is not my original work!

This is a fan retelling of one of my favorite mangas, Boukyaki no Shirushi to Hime, whose original mangaka sadly passed away in 2014, leaving the series unfinished. I will start at the beginning of the manga and go through the entire story that has already been written. Once I reach chapter 20, which is the end of the published chapters, I will have to start extrapolating and imagining how the story may have played out. I hope I can do the original story justice and not disgrace the original author.

I will say that I will be fixing a few things that made me uncomfortable about the original manga, in that the female protagonist was 15, which I didn't like. Otherwise I will try to stick as close to the original story as possible, though I will be arranging it so that it's a bit more linear.

I hope you enjoy!

“Blessings to you, my lady,” The visitor said, bowing deeply in greeting. “My name is Aquamarine. I am a servant of the high king of Banfarie and a chosen attendant to the future queen.”

The summons wasn’t necessarily a shock, but it was definitely a surprise. Lilya, the third princess of the former kingdom of Tritsia, had come of age during a bloody war between kingdoms to either side, and her small, impoverished land had been caught in the crossfire. Tritsia had been absorbed by the victorious kingdom to the east, Couliea, and was now a vassal state. As such, the royal family of Tritsia were now hardly more than paupers in their own kingdom.

Lilya assumed that she would no longer be eligible for the marriage interviews that were famously, or perhaps infamously, conducted five times every month in the largest empire in the continent, Banfarie. The interviews had been happening since before she had even been born, but as of yet, no queen had been selected. Or rather, no woman had accepted.

The rules for who would be chosen for the interviews was standard for most monarchs looking for a queen: a woman of royal or noble blood with proof of lineage, at least eighteen years old but no older that twenty five, no previous marriages or engagements, no children, and… well… consent.

Lilya met most of the criteria… except for one thing: she wasn’t a high born woman anymore. Her family’s royal status had ended when the kingdom was absorbed into another. Besides, even when her father had been king, they had never exactly been what anyone would consider proper royalty. Her father worked in the fields with his people, doing the same back-breaking labor as his subjects. Back then, she could hardly be called princess, but now she was nothing more than a peasant farm girl, more suited to feeding chickens and mucking out stables than attending grand balls and high teas.

So there had been quite a stir when their unusual guest came to deliver the summons. She was a woman who appeared very young in age, no more than perhaps sixteen, though she spoke as if she were a far older creature. She had a short bob haircut and a thick fringe, but it wasn’t enough to hide her pointed ears, her sharp eyes, and her upswept eyebrows, belying a nature that wasn’t human.

Her cloak was plain, but well-made and of fine cloth, likely silk or satin. She had all the hallmarks of a servant of a wealthy, prosperous nation. She had been given entrance to the house by the only servant Lilya’s family employed, Sebastian, and was standing in the receiving room with Lilya’s mother and aunt.

“I come with greetings from my Lord King, to relay a question and to present a gift to you, beloved princess.”

Lilya tilted her head. “A gift? His Majesty didn’t need to send a gift.”

Aquamarine simply chuckled and bowed. “From his Majesty, with his kindest regards.” From her cloak, she produced a velveteen box and opened it, revealing a tiara of breathtaking beauty. Sizable diamonds and sapphires lined the circlet and rose up to create a lovely sloped and winding style like that of wind on water. It was a crown that would suit any head it rested upon.

“Oh!” Lilya breathed. “It’s breathtaking!” She rushed to her mother in delight. “This is the answer to the famine on the outskirts in the south! If we sell the tiara at the biggest market in the neighboring kingdom, we could feed the farmers for months, maybe a year!”

“Lilya!” Her aunt exclaimed in horror. “How could you suggest such a thing? This was a gift from a king, for goodness sake, you can’t just sell it!”

“But, Auntie, I can’t hoard something like this when people are starving!”

“You would not wear it?” Aquamarine asked, her face shrewdly assessing. “Is it not to your liking?”

“Oh, no, that’s not it at all!” Lilya insisted earnestly. “It’s lovely, more so than anything I’ve ever seen. I’ve never worn anything so extravagant. But… truly, for me to wear it would be like putting silk ribbons on a pig. It would be far less useful as a trinket in my wardrobe and better as a tool to feed the hungry. I’m afraid that Couliea doesn’t pay much attention to our struggles, so we have to fend for ourselves. This,” Lilya gently took the box from Aquamarine and turned it so that she could see the tiara properly. “This is indeed a kingly gift. This will save lives. There is no more noble a gift as that.” She bowed her head and handed the box back gingerly. “If his Majesty would not be pleased with my conduct, I understand, but I would hope he would see the sense in my actions.”

Aquamarine laughed a little. “I do not think his Majesty will be displeased. Quite the opposite. Even still,” Aquamarine set the box down on the table and carefully pried a dangling jewel from the very center, threading it through a silver chain she had worn around her own neck, and placed it on Lilya. “His Majesty will want confirmation that his gift was received. This will suffice.”

“Then I shall wear it to the marriage interview,” Lilya said, patting it fondly.

Aquamarine’s head cocked back in surprise. “I had not even had the chance to ask you, and yet you’re agreeing to go?”

“Well, yes,” Lilya said. “That’s why you’ve come to call on me, isn’t it?”

“Of course,” Aquamarine said with a smirk. “But usually it takes much more convincing on my part. I don’t believe I’ve ever met someone so… eager.”

“At the very least, I have to thank him for his generosity,” Lilya said. “Even if he decides I’m not a good match for him, I have to express my gratitude in person.”

“You’re not scared? I’m certain you’ve heard the rumors about my Lord King.”

“Well… yes,” Lilya admitted. “I won’t lie and say I’m not apprehensive, but kindness like this can’t go unacknowledged. It’s only right that I meet with him.”

Where Aquamarine’s smile had been playful and mischievous before, it was now wide and warm. “I will happily go now and inform his Majesty of your decision. My sisters and I will return in a fortnight to collect you for your interview. You may bring a guest with you, if you wish, though I assure you that you’ll be quite safe in our care.”

“I have no doubt that’s true,” Lilya said, bowing. “Would you like some refreshments to take with you on your trip back?”

“How kind of you, dear, but that won’t be necessary,” Aquamarine said, patting Lilya’s cheek. “We shall return in two weeks. You make sure you take care now. Our Lord King would be much distressed should something happen to you in the meantime.”

Aquamarine snapped her fingers, and there was a flash of light from which everyone in the room had to shield their eyes. When they blinked, the young woman was gone.

“Witch...” Sebastian said in horror. “My Lady, you can’t meet with this monster! What kind of king employs such demons?”

“Likely someone who understands that people like them also need to earn a living, I’d imagine,” Lilya said reasonably. “Besides, I’ve already agreed and accept his gift. I can’t go back on my word.”

“I can’t believe you’d actually sell such a treasure,” Your aunt said disapprovingly. “You’re so like your father.”

She didn’t mean that in a good way. Lilya’s mother’s sister, Kiya, had always disliked her father and resented him for being too weak a king, unable to protect his people during the war. She had also resented Lilya ever since she had been born. There was worry that Sophie would not be able to carry another child at her age, and that the royal line would end as there would be no male heir to Tritsia.

The birth of Lilya’s little brother shortly before her father’s death was not enough to warm Kiya to Lilya. In fact, it seemed to drive the wedge even further, as Sophie and her brother were both terribly weak afterward and there was concern they wouldn’t survive. Kiya had gone so far as to blame Lilya, telling her that it would have been her fault if they died. As a nine year old, she couldn’t imagine what she’d have done to cause such a terrible thing, but now she understood it was just her aunt lashing out.

Perhaps it was because Lilya resembled her father the most out of all her siblings, or because she was most like him in temperament, but she doubted Kiya would ever view her favorably. She was still family, though, and Lilya tried not to take her criticism to heart, though her aunt’s cutting eyes often wore into her painfully.

“I’m doing this for our country, even if it no longer exists,” Lilya said, determinedly putting the box away in a case so that Sebastian could take it to the neighboring kingdom for appraisal. “The king has called for me. The least I can do is answer.”

“Lilya’s right, Kiya,” Lilya’s mother, Sophie, said reluctantly. “It would be improper for us to take his gift and ignore him. Though I can’t say that I’m pleased with the idea of this.” Sophie sighed unhappily. “Lilya would have been expected to marry soon as it is. I supposed we couldn’t hope for better than a king.” Sophie took her daughter’s hands in her own. “Still, I’m very worried. I should come with you.”

“No, Mama, they need you here. You’ll have to be the one to make sure that the tiara gets a fair price and oversee the distribution of the food to the needy. I’ll be fine on my own, and besides, Aquamarine said that she and her sisters were part of the Queen’s guard, and I liked her very much. I couldn’t be any safer.”

Lilya’s mother grimaced. “That doesn’t make me feel better. You have many lovely qualities, my sweet child, but being a good judge of character is not among them. All anyone needs to do is tell you a sad story for you to want to take them under your wing, regardless of their true intentions.” She smiled fondly. “You’re much like your father in that respect.”

Lilya smiled in return. “Father was not a good king,” She said sadly. “But he was a good man.”

“With that, I cannot argue,” Sophie said, but she frowned in distress. “You’re elder sisters had married before they got the summons, so I’ve never met with the king. Your father met with him only once, during a conference of kings, but he never told us anything about him other than he found him to be… striking. I think he didn’t tell us more because he want to frighten us.”

“Have you heard much about him?” Lilya asked anxiously.

“Reports are varied and hard to believe; that the king is a headless monster, thousands of years old, ten feet tall, winged and hulking, who eats the women who refused him. I’m not sure I believed any of that, but the rumors are still enough to make me trepidatious.”

Sebastian grumbled, his mustache shuddering. “It is the rumors that could be true that make me uneasy.”

“How do you mean?”

“I am an old man now,” Sebastian said. “Well into my seventies, so I remember when the interviews began sixty years ago. In all that time, and no queen of Banfarie has been chosen. It concerns me. The king himself may now be an old man.”

“Is that why he’s being turned down?” Lilya asked.

“No, young madam,” He said. “You see, even before the interviews began, Banfarie had no queen in nearly one hundred years. In fact, since that time, no new kings had been crowned, either. The king from one hundred years ago was an elusive man who few had ever met, and those who did were terrified of him. If the current king is that man’s successor, it’s certainly distressing. But if he is the same man, then he is a creature of deeply evil magic, and Lady Lilya should stay far away from him.”

“Even if he were the same man, which should be impossible, his reputation is less than ideal,” Sophie said pensively. “The house of Banfarie is known historically for it’s cruelty and harsh punishments, even of neighboring kingdoms. It instituted a law that allowed Banfarie to make judgments on the conduct of royals, indict them criminally, and even sentence retribution against them, up to and including execution. The neighboring kingdoms pushed back against this, of course, but eventually they all fell in line and wrote it into their countries’ laws. I don’t trust any man who could wield that level of power over others.”

“But think of what that level of influence could do for Tritsia!” Kiya said. “A king with that kind of power could protect us and provide for us!”

Sophie shivered. “I don’t want to know what he would want in return for that protection.”

“Well, I would think that’s be obvious,” Kiya said, looking pointedly at Lilya.

Sophie, normally a mild, even-tempered woman, grew angry. “And you’re alright with that, are you? You’re willing to sell my youngest daughter to a monster if it benefits you?”

“Sophie, don’t be sentimental,” Kiya said, folding her arms. “Political marriages are common for royalty. If we had been a stronger country, this would be completely normal, even for a third daughter.”

“We’re not royalty anymore,” Sophie said firmly.

“But we could be, that’s the point!”

“Please, don’t fight,” Lilya said, getting between the two sisters. “I’ve already made the decision. Kiya is right; if I were to marry His Majesty of Banfarie, our kingdom would then be his responsibility rather than that of Couliea. However he treats that responsibility, it can’t be worse than the wanton destruction from the war or the indifferent cruelty of Couliea. If he accepts me, even if it is only a political marriage and nothing more, it would greatly benefit us both. He would at last gain the queen he’s been searching for and our country will be protected. I will meet him. Perhaps the rumors are wrong.”

“I can only hope,” Sophie remarked grimly. After throwing an angry look at her sister, she pulled Lilya away from Kiya and spoke in an undertone. “But… is this what you really want?”

“I want my family and people safe and well above all,” Lilya said. “If this king can offer that, then I can ask for nothing more.”

“If this is what you wish,” Her mother said slowly. “Then I will respect it. But… it is not what I would wish for you.”

“I know, Mama,” Lilia said. “We don’t always get what we truly wish for. But this is as close as I can get.”

“If the king accepts you,” Lilya’s mother remarked sadly. “We may never see you again.”

“That may not be true. I would hope that his Majesty wouldn’t prevent me from seeing my family once I settle in.”

“Just be careful, my love,” Her mother said, pulling her into a hug. “Be careful.”

As promised, Aquamarine returned in a fortnight to collect Lilya to take her to the capitol of Banfarie, Rukruf. A carriage had come with them for Lilya’s comfort.

“Couldn’t you transport me like you did the day you first came?”

“I’m afraid that’s a rather disorienting way to travel for humans, My Lady,” Aquamarine said, taking Lilya’s luggage. “It would require some degree of acclamation, and I don’t think his Majesty would want you to be sick during your interview.” She lifted Lilya’s bag up with one hand. “Is this all you’re bringing with you?”

“This is all I have,” Lilya replied simply. “You admit that you’re not human?”

“I was never attempting to hide it. I’m a spirit, specifically an stone spirit, as are my sisters. There they are now.”

She jerked her head toward the carriage. There were two more women identical to Aquamarine near the carriage, one in the driver’s box and another holding open the door to the carriage. All three women had short, pale lavender colored hair and large, glittering eyes. They wore identical uniforms similar to that of an attendant, but the skirts were rather short, stopping just below the knee, giving them a freer rang of movement. Each one had a dagger hanging from their hip.

Both new sisters bowed deeply as Lilya approached.

“My lady,” They said in unison.

“Garnet,” Aquamarine said, pointing to the driver,and then to the coach-woman. “And Peridot.”

“I don’t doubt the three of you are sisters; I can’t tell you apart,” Lilya said.

“Ah, but see?” Peridot said, pointing to a white bow on the right side of her hair in the shape of a butterfly. She then pointed to Garnet, who wore a black butterfly bow on her left side, and to Aquamarine, who wore no bow at all. “Even people who know us well have trouble distinguishing us from the other, so we’ve taken to wearing these. Only his Majesty can tell us apart without them.”

“Here, my Lady,” Peridot said, swinging a beautiful, fur-lined, snow-white cloak around Lilya’s shoulders. “We’ll be going through the mountains and it’s likely to get cold. His Majesty had this made for you.”

“Oh, it’s lovely,” Lilya said, petting the soft, veltvety collar that ruffed around her neck. “I’m starting to get anxious about meeting him.”

“In a good way or a bad way?” Peridot asked ash she helped Lilya up into the carriage.

“I can’t tell,” Lilya replied, laughing nervously.

“Don’t be nervous,” Peridot said as she came in and closed the door behind her, rapping sharply on the roof before settling. “His Majesty is only a threat to humans.”

Lilya looked at Peridot in alarm.

“It was a joke,” Peridot assured her, giggling. “…mostly.”

The carriage lurched forward and Aquamarine put a hand out to steady Lilya before she fell out of her seat.

“When will we arrive?”

“Around sunset tomorrow,” Aquamarine replied. “We’ll continue on through the night rather than stop at an inn. His Majesty is eager to meet you.”

“Won’t you be tired?” Lilya asked.

“Not to worry,” Aquamarine said. “Spirits like us don’t need much sleep, only a few hours a week. We’re all rested up.”

“That’s amazing. I wish I could do that.”

“Yes, it is awfully handy,” Peridot said rather smugly. “Are you hungry? We’ve brought things for you to eat.”

The two days passed pleasantly and Lilya spent the time having long, friendly conversations with all three sisters. Lilya had never had lady friends her age, and though the women were spirits and likely far older than she was, they seemed to enjoy her company and asked her many questions.

“Oh, Lady, come and see!” Garnet said, pointing out of the window. “You can see the capitol city from this vantage!”

Delighted, Lilya looked out of the window where Garnet was pointing. “It’s huge!” She exclaimed. “I can’t even see the end of it! It must be as large as my entire country!”

“Your country is larger by about fifty miles, in fact,” Aquamarine said. “It’s the smallest country on the continent.”

“Yes, that sounds right,” She sighed. “I mean, I didn’t know that for sure, but I’m not surprised.”

“Are you sad to be from such a small country?”

“No,” She replied. “My country is beautiful and my people are good. I just wish we were better able to defend ourselves.”

“Well, you may not have that problem anymore,” Aquamarine said. “We’re nearly there.”

“Will I meet his Majesty today?”

“No, you will be tired from the trip and will rest for tonight. He will conduct your interview tomorrow after you have your breakfast. His Majesty has instructed us to see to your every comfort.”

“That’s just going to make me more anxious,” Lilya said.

“The best things are worth waiting for,” Peridot said.

That evening, they arrived at the castle, which was every bit as colossal as described. Over it was a cloud of purple, blue, and pink particles, as if it were perpetual sunset over the castle.

“What is that?”

“It’s called the Aurora,” Garnet said. “It’s a magical field that has existed over the castle for hundreds of years and is the source of the royal family’s magical power. It ascends and descends over the castle, depending on how the king feels. It’s highly reactive to his emotional state.”

“Oh, goodness,” Lilya said. “It’s rather low right now. What does that mean?”

“Hmm…” Garnet said. “I believe he may be feeling rather withdrawn.”

“I wonder why that would be,” Lilya mused.

Standing at the front steps of the castle as they pulled up were two young men in uniform, one blond and one dark haired. The blond wore glasses and seemed to be the junior of the two. They bowed as Lilya exited the carriage.

“Miss Lilya, these are the King’s personal attendants, Larima,” She gestured at the dark haired one first, and then to the blond. “And Raba. They are meeting you in place of his Majesty today.”

“Does that mean his Majesty is watching?” Lilya asked, looking up at the windows.

“Whether he is or is not,” Larima said as he straightened. “We are pleased to meet you, My Lady. Please allow us to show you to your room.”

“Yes, thank you,” Lilya replied. Curiously, she noticed as they turned that there appeared to be leaves growing out of their hair.

The sisters were following behind her at a short distance. “Are they spirits, too?” Lilya asked them in an undertone.

“Yes,” Peridot said. “They’re tree spirits. All of the staff employed at his Majesty’s main castle are not human.”

“Why?”

“His Majesty distrusts humans,” Aquamarine replied.

“But isn’t his Majesty human?” Lilya asked in confusion.

“Yes,” Peridot responded.

“And no,” Garnet said.

Lilya made a noise of uncertainty under her breath.

“Don’t worry, my Lady,” Garnet said. “You’ll understand tomorrow.”

“This is all very ominous,” Lilya said uncertainly.

“Yes!” Peridot said. “Isn’t it exciting?”

Before she could answer, she was lead to an opulent guestroom, far larger than any of the rooms in her home, filled with luxurious furniture and carefully crafted decorations.

“This can’t be my room,” Lilya said with a laugh. “What would I do with all this space?”

Raba and Larima exchanged looks. “Do you dislike it? We have a number of other rooms. You’re free to choose any one of them.”

“Oh, it’s not like that,” Lilya said hastily. “It’s beautiful, I adore it. Please, it’s not that I’m ungrateful, I just feel like… I don’t know… isn’t it wasted on me?”

The triplets sighed sadly, having become used to Lilya’s unusual behavior, but the men continued to look confused.

“You do realize that if his Majesty chooses you and you accept, you’ll be queen?” Raba asked. “This,” He gestured at the room. “Is nothing compared to the queen’s suite.”

“Oh…” Lilya replied, a little disconcerted. “This will take some getting used to.”

“I understand,” Larima said. “You’re the princess from Tritsia, correct? The smallest, poorest kingdom on the continent, now a captured vassal state of Couliea. I suppose you must not be accustomed to living so resplendently.”

“Larima!” Aquamarine hissed. “Don’t be so tactless!”

Lilya laughed a little, relieved. “No, it’s alright. I’m not used to this at all, that’s true. Will that bother his Majesty?”

Larima smiled and shook his head. “No, I shouldn’t think so. Don’t worry so much about what’s appropriate and just enjoy your time here. Come.” He lead Lilya inside and showed her two cords right next to the bed, a small blue cord and a larger red cord. “The blue cord is attached to a bell in the queen’s attendants’ quarters. If you need for anything, just ring it and one of the triplets will be here in an instant. The red one is an alarm. If you pull it, bells will go off all throughout the castle. Ring it only if it’s an emergency.”

“I understand,” Lilya said. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

Raba and Larima bowed and left, and the triplets ushered Lilya into an adjacent dining room to have dinner.

After a restless night of sleep and a breakfast she barely touched, Lilya was dressed in a lovely blue gown that complimented her hair, which was pulled back with matching ribbons. The bodice was tight but comfortable, the cut of the dress was simple but elegant, and for the first time, Lilya felt like a proper grown woman.

A knock on the door revealed Raba.

“His Majesty is ready for you and is waiting in his office,” He said.

Lilya stood and clenched her hands to stop them from shaking and followed Raba out of her quarters with Garnet and Aquamarine following behind her.

“Don’t worry, my Lady,” Garnet said. “I think the king will like you very much.”

“You do?”

“Oh yes,” Aquamarine replied. “We’re more concerned whether or not you’ll like him.”

“Why wouldn’t I like him?” She asked.

“Well…” Garnet began regretfully, but then stopped.

“Here we are,” Raba said, gesturing to a set of large double doors. “One moment please.” Raba knocked on the door. “Your Majesty, I have retrieved Lady Lilya for her interview. Are you ready?”

There was silence, though Raba tilted his head as if he were listening.

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Raba opened one of the doors and stood aside. “You may enter.”

Gulping, checking that the pendant was in place, and taking a deep breath, Lilya stepped inside.

There, standing rail-straight behind a desk, was a tall, thin man wearing elaborate garments in keeping with his status as a king and emperor, as well as a sash and badges of his station. Almost immediately, one of the many rumors about the king was confirmed with Lilya’s own eyes.

His Imperial Majesty, the king of Banfarie, had no head.

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Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

[destiniesfic]

Folktober 01 — for @jurdannet/@jurdannetrevels, and for spooky season: an AU where Jude and Taryn were never taken to Faerie and grew up in blissful ignorance of the fair folk. Mostly.

I count four of them. One, two, three, four. Four of them have taken my sister.

They took some others, too. It’s easy to tell them from the ones they’ve taken. Even as silhouettes, there’s something wrong with them. They move too gracefully, like they’re dancers who can hear music I can’t. And when they’re still, they’re too still. They’re all tall and lean and wear what looks like Renaissance Faire cosplay, and if I wasn’t looking right at them I wouldn’t think they were real. I still don’t think they’re real.

In addition to my sister, my twin, there seem to be three more people. Real people. A college-aged boy playing guitar, staring without seeing. A couple of hikers. The entire macabre party sits or stands or reclines around a massive bonfire, flames licking up a cage of tented branches. We learned about Guy Fawkes Night — Bonfire Night — in AP European History. If that’s what they’re celebrating, they’re too early by a month, and also on the wrong side of the Atlantic.

A shiver goes down my spine that has nothing to do with the autumn chill.

I recognize my sister’s silhouette. Taryn sits back on her heels, her hands on both knees, her back unusually straight. She doesn’t seem hurt. If she were herself, she’d scold me for following her here. After all, she was just sneaking out to meet some boy she bumped into at the mall today. I couldn’t explain my suspicions, the way the hair prickled at the back of my neck. Her smile was a little too dreamy. But I let her go. And I followed her.

Taryn stopped wearing the berry necklaces our parents gave us when we were thirteen or fourteen. Even though I am also too old to believe in superstitions, I never did. Now the string of dried rowan berries loops around my neck, hidden under my black turtleneck. I touch the fabric, feeling it through the cotton. Maybe it will save me tonight.

I draw a breath and step out from the bushes. In my hands, I am carrying the biggest stick I could find. It’s not as thick as a baseball bat — I should have brought a baseball bat — but if I have to hit someone, it’ll hurt. That’s what counts.

“Hey!” I shout.

The guitarist doesn’t stop playing. In fact, none of the humans look at me. But all of them do. The faeries. They are so beautiful they turn the corner into being terrifying. Like otherworldly models, specifically the ones from the nineties, with the cheekbones. Heroin chic, kind of, except they all have this glow that has nothing to do with the firelight. Their ears are pointed. Their fingers are too long. Their smiles are too sharp. My brain hurts.

At least they’re easy to tell apart. There are three boys and one girl. The boys all have different-colored hair: red, blond, black. The girl has long blue hair. She reclines on a cushion near the red-haired boy. One of the hikers combs her hair with a carved seashell, a glazed look on her face. The other hiker offers an apple to the blond boy, perfectly subservient. The last boy, his hair blacker than the dead of night, wears a silver circlet and lounges on two more cushions. He has a cup — a goblet — raised to his mouth. Dark liquid shines at the corners of his lips. I am afraid it’s blood, but I realize it’s probably wine.

I know very little about faeries, because faeries weren’t real until tonight. I take stock of what I do know: don’t accept food or drink from them; don’t trust them; they can’t lie; something about iron. That’s all. It’s not much. I hope it’s enough.

Standing there, brandishing my stick, it doesn’t feel like enough at all.

The black-haired boy squints at the contents of his goblet. “It’s too early for me to have drunk so much already,” he murmurs, almost to himself. Then he addresses the blonde boy. “Am I the only one seeing double?”

“No,” says the redhead, the one sitting next to Taryn. He looks fox-like in a way that I can’t quite explain. The color of his hair, maybe, or the point of his chin. “I see her, too. Kin?”

“Twins,” says the girl, sounding vaguely intrigued. “How very mortal.”

The blond boy knocks the apple out of the hiker’s hand. “Well? Go and get it,” he says to the hiker, but he is watching me. Apparently the people they’ve already caught are no longer as interesting as I am.

The first boy sighs, but then he grins at me, a cat who’s cornered a mouse. “Welcome, twin sister. Won’t you join us? Come and sup at our fire.”

There’s something under his words, like a hidden current in still waters that might pull me out to sea. But it just washes over me. I ground my stance and raise my stick higher. “Let Taryn go,” I say. “Before I decide to play softball with your heads.”

The boy frowns. Something tells me it’s not because of my threat. The girl looks slightly nervous. “Cardan?”

“Perhaps a charm,” the fox boy suggests, but he is now interested too.

“Mortals don’t know enough to wear charms,” snaps the blond boy. He stalks over to me, and I prepare to swing, even though I think it will just make him mad. “Perhaps if we strip her bare—”

“I will scream,” I threaten. The bark of my stick digs into my palms. I try to sound angry instead of scared. “I will scream and someone will hear and they will call the police.”

“Let them,” says the girl, tossing her shining hair. “More guests.”

The black-haired boy, Cardan, raises his hand. “Peace, Valerian,” he says to the blond boy, who scoffs and sits down cross-legged by the fire. “What kind of hosts are we? Surely we must extend to her some hospitality. What is your name, twin sister?”

Name. Something about faeries and names? Why does that strike a chord? I press my lips together and shake my head.

“This one knows something of our kind,” the fox boy remarks. “Enough to know there is power in names. Don’t be afraid.” His voice is gentle. I almost want to believe him. “Mortal names grant no power. We must call you something.”

I bite my lower lip. “Jude,” I say. It’s just one part of my name. Harmless, I hope. “And yours?”

“Locke,” he says. “My companions are Valerian, Nicasia, daughter of Orlagh, Queen of the Undersea, and Prince Cardan of Elfhame. Can we not convince you to join us? It is an honor for any mortal to dine in such esteemed company.”

“That’s fine.” My mouth is oddly dry. “I just want my sister back. Then I’ll leave you to… whatever this is. And I won’t tell anyone what I saw.”

“But we had such plans for Taryn.” Nicasia reaches up across Locke’s lap to wrap her finger around a lock of Taryn’s hair. “She’s such a soft thing. So fragile.”

My sister doesn’t move, and I shiver. Some kind of magic? Every single nerve in my body is screaming at me to run away before I’m spelled too. But I can’t leave Taryn. I refuse.

I shrug. “You’ll just have to cancel your plans, I guess. It happens.”

“Does it?” asks Cardan. His eyes, blacker than his hair, fix on me. He chuckles. “Perhaps we can make a deal, Jude the mortal. Answer one riddle for us and your sister goes free. How does that sound?”

“Good,” I say before thinking. My brain catches up a second later. “A little too good, actually. What happens if I get it wrong?”

“We keep the pair of you,” Valerian sneers. There are chuckles among the group, and I don’t like it. They seem to know something I don’t.

“The terms are more than fair,” Cardan prompts, smiling at me. “Do you accept?”

I want so badly to wipe that smile off his face, but I am outnumbered. I would lose a brawl. I would never get Taryn away. At least if I play this game with them I stall for time. “Do you swear she’ll go free?”

“I swear it.”

I give him a sharp nod and lower my stick. Faeries can’t lie. “Then I accept.”

He leans back against his cushions. “Tell me, then, what it is that never drinks but grows when fed?”

I wait for the rest.

“That’s all,” he says, with a flutter of his hand. “Well?”

For a moment, my mind goes completely blank and I’m sure I will fail. Then a breeze stirs my hair, and the bonfire crackles. My brow furrows. It seems too easy. “A fire?”

“Well done,” says Cardan. “Locke, send the sister home.”

Nicasia pouts, but Locke leans over and whispers something in my sister’s ear. Taryn stands and turns away from the fire, toward me. I am so relieved to see her whole, with the blush she’d put on before she went out still pinking her cheeks, that I don’t notice Valerian until he’s grabbed me from behind.

“What the fuck!” I yell, trying to kick his shin, to step on his foot. He is much stronger than I thought, and his grip doesn’t break. Taryn, seeming to notice nothing, walks into the trees and out of my sight. “You swore! You said—”

“I said we’d send your sister home,” says Cardan. “And home she goes. I said nothing about letting you go with her.” He raises his goblet to me in a mock-toast. “You must really be more careful when striking bargains.”

Next

[the-hero-unknown]

Summary : Haekhael gets ready for a fancy dance with her friends, proceeds to be mildly insulted. Not only that, once at the dance, she got shot by an arrow to her shoulder. Fortunately, the injury is fixed by magic. Mild revenge and after all that, Haekhael dances with Voryn's brother. 

Edit : Forgot to @chaoticnart for being such a big inspiration for this fic with all their House Dagoth head canons! They are an absolute blessing 💖

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It was an interesting day, at least in Kogoruhn where the chimer and dwemer would almost seamlessly be one. Nerevar kept the delicate fabric woven, but this was where the fabric had first come from. In truth, Haekhael found it beautiful. She hadn't seen anything quite like it before. She stood out of the meeting hall, right infront of the door. Inside, they were discussing trade routes and some missing shipments. Nothing out of the ordinary. The meetings always bored her anyways. 

Haekhael felt out of place. Like a square in a circle. All around her were the chimer folk of House Dagoth, nobles of the other chimer houses, and the dwemer. Yet she was the only human. Not even a familiar Nord, no. Haekhael was Yokudan. In a way, Haekhael had not felt so distant from how they dressed. The pauldrons that were made of bone and shell, and then the silk robes during the summer that almost reminded her of Yokuda. Far was the memory of her homeland, but it was there. Not to mention it was winter. Her arms were crossed as she looked around the halls. 

Satisfied that no assassin seemed to slip through the shadows and doors remained closed, Haekhael leaned against the wall. Soon, chatter came closer to the door. Haekhael flinched when it was opened. The door made one of the most awful sounds.  Though the elves that came from the room ignored it. For they were going to take a brief recess from all the politicking.  Almalexia would pull Haekhael to the side for a moment as Nerevar would follow the dwemer king Dunmac and the tonal architect, Kagrenac. 

The chimer queen of Mournhold would say,"There's a dance this evening. I know you say you have left feet, but I figured you may want to come along." "I might just tag along. I've been standing here all day with nothing to do. Goodness, you all talk so much yet get nothing done." 

Almalexia rolled her eyes, allowing the comment to slide. Haekhael would not be sorry though. She hated standing with nothing to do but anxiously wait for someone to try to kill her or any one in the meeting halls. A dance wouldn't hurt her, but the armor she wore might. 

Almalexia quietly pulled Haekhael along to a guest room. 

"I have some old robes of Nerevar's that you could wear. Though, be careful with them, they are far older than you'll ever be." 

Haekhael glared, it was a constantly reminded fact of her short mortality. She'd die long before Almalexia or even Voryn, which Haekhael was sure he was the oldest of the First Council. Though, the woman dare not say a word about their ages lest she want to be exiled for a second time for a much sillier reason. 

"Don't look at me like that, you know it to be true." Almalexia shut the door behind them, heading over to a small wardrobe and opening it. Inside were many long robes. Some were a crimson red, others a forest-like green, there were even sky blue robes. There were also some very nice silk belts. Almalexia tapped Haekhael's shoulder,"Well, are you just going to stand there, jaw-dropped and not choose?" "Well... I mean, I'm simply processing what is infront of me, my queen." "Could you process faster? The robes are quite difficult to put on. Trust me, I've tried to do it alone. And that dance is tonight!" "Why would you wait until the day of a dance to ask me this, wouldn't it be easier to be asked a day beforehand?" 

The queen would shrug,"I figured you didn't want to come, but when I came out the meeting room, you seemed uneasy." "So dancing would all the sudden ease me?" "Hey! That's not what I meant, think of it like a small break. Now go choose one or I'll choose for you." 

Almalexia went behind Haekhael and gave her a light shove to the wardrobe to encourage her to hurry. The woman sighed and looked around at the robes. She found it rather odd of Almalexia to care for if she wanted to dance or not, but she wasn't about to question her persistence. Haekhael picked out a light blue robe. Almalexia picked up a robe of emerald green and a long seafoam colored scarf. Getting the gist of it now, Haekhael grabbed a golden colored belt. Almalexia looked at Haekhael and down at her boots and said,"We'll find something nicer than those in here, I'm sure." "Say, does Nerevar know that I'm going to be wearing these?" "I know we don't talk often as I'm busy ruling Mournhold and such, but yes we had a private discussion. I think Vivec and Sotha Sil are helping as well." "... So does everyone just assume I'm coming along?" "Well of course, you're still my body guard. We plan on hiding some weapons on you." 

In some peculiar way, this relieved Haekhael. 

"I'm sure Sotha Sil has some nice shoes you could borrow-" "No. That mer is constantly covered in oil and probably other weird alchemical ingredients. Wearing anything of his is asking for death." "Tell me, would you prefer Nerevar's shoes?" "You make a fair point." "Exactly." 

Haekhael began to undress, and with Almalexia's help, she was in exquisite clothing. Almalexia tied the belt, securing the robes in proper place. She had Haekhael wear the scarf draped over her arms and lower back. Soon, Haekhael was dragged along with Almalexia to help her with her robes. Haekhael was happy to help. Vivec was already in the room, sitting on the bed. Vivec was in a vibrantly red robe with a light blue to contrast it underneath, with pauldrons of shells on hir shoulders. Hir hair was braided, showing the shaved sides of hir head. It was surprising to hir all dressed up, Vivec seemed to feel the same way about Haekhael. Hir eyes were wide. 

"You look like you've been swept right out of rags and into riches!" "... I'll try to keep that as the compliment I assumed it to be." 

Almalexia clapped her hands,"We need to hurry up. We still need to get her some weapons. And I still need to get dressed up myself. I can't disappoint anyone." 

Vivec got on hir feet immediately,"Right. Haekhael, c'mon stop standing there." 

"I just got in here and the robes are dragging me down, forgive me for being slow." 

Haekhael and Vivec helped dress Almalexia in the finest of robes. The first robe was a soft green, the next robe was jade that matched her eyes. The final robe reminded Haekhael of the pines in Skyrim. Haekhael stared in awe for a moment before grabbing a pair of extravagant shoes. They were also another shade of green, jade. With yellow woven patterns of flowers and pointed toes. Almalexia hastily put on the shoes as Vivec began to do her hair. Haekhael went to a small chest and grabbed a pair of earrings for Almalexia, after all, she was a queen. So while Vivec braided Almalexia's hair with hir nimble fingers, Haekhael carefully put in the golden ruby jeweled earrings in the lobes of Almalexia's ears. Then there were small brass ringlets to add to the middle and top of Almalexia's pointed ears. Once Vivec finished braiding Almalexia's hair it was stunning. It reminded Haekhael of a circlet put on backwards. The rest of Almalexia's long,red, curly hair was left down. 

"Haekhael? Haekhael? Are... Are you alright?" "Huh? Oh yes. I'm fine." "If you say so, you've just been awkwardly looking up, does she look bad?"

Haekhael's cheeks were warm with frustration,"Vivec! No! Almalexia just... Is beautiful." "Alright, do us the favor and pull yourself together,  we still have to attend the dance." "That reminds me, I never asked, what time is this dance?" "Late in the evening. It's going to last all night long!"

Haekhael huffed. Vivec just grinned. And the three were of to see the court wizard, Sotha Sil. 

Sotha Sil swung open the door, it made a loud creak, he seemed to just ignore the worst sound in the world as he spoke,"Come along, I've got some pauldrons you can use and a few things you can hide in your sleeves. Can't have you be too boring." 

Haekhael was beyond offended as she set a hand over her heart,"Boring? This is by far the nicest thing I've worn in my life! And fashionable." "You are several eras behind with fashion then. But fear not, I have some things I'm willing to hand over to you. And maybe let you keep."

Haekhael was slightly frustrated as Sotha Sil led her in. Almalexia and Vivec laughed behind her back for a bit before Almalexia cleared her throat. In a silver lined box, Sotha Sil pulled out a brass wide-toothed hair comb. Vivec sat Haekhael down at on Sotha Sil's bed,"Is it alright if I put up your hair?" "I mean I guess, what's with the comb though?" 

"This old thing?" Sotha Sil said, waving it infront of her face,"It's from when I was a child. I wore it often, and quite frankly, it fits your outfit enough. Please give it back though, after tonight." 

Haekhael would nod her head, Sotha Sil delicately placed it in her hands. He seemed to regret it. He turned away, as if afraid to look at her. Vivec put most of Haekhael's braided hairs into a bun, leaving four braids down. After using a thin netch leather strip in her hair to keep the bun in place, Vivec got infront of her. Vivec lightly lifted two of the braids over Haekhael's shoulder. Ze handled the other two braids with a delicate manner of moving it over her other shoulder. Vivec had almost a childish grin whenever Haekhael carefully handed the old comb to hir. Vivec gently place the comb in the braids and cover hir mouth," Ayem, Seht, look!" 

Almalexia stood next to Haekhael and lifted Haekhael's hand up,"She's beautiful!" 

Sotha Sil turned his head over slowly, still nervous of the comb. He had a gentle smile, relief even? Sotha Sil said,"You do look lovely Haekhael, even if in... ancient clothing." 

"Replies the mer, all centuries upon centuries years older than I!"

Sotha Sil rolled his eyes while Vivec stuck hir tongue out. Almalexia let go of Haekhael's hand and moved it to her shoulder. Sotha Sil picked up a small but freshly sharpened dagger. He handed it to Haekhael,"This is to put on your leg." "My leg? Forgive me, but how am I to put this on my leg?" "I have a small harness for it." "Wait, I almost forgot. I need to borrow a pair of shoes." "Is that really a good idea?" "... Yes." 

Sotha Sil raised a brow, lightly tossing the small harness. He bent over and grabbed some shoes from his dresser. They were a light blue. The shoes looked light worn. Much like Almalexia's shoes, they were pointed and had yellow embroidery. The shoes yellow embroidery was not flowers but cogs, like the dwemer machines. "Custom made I take it?" "Shut up and put them on, or I'll take them back." 

Haekhael grinned and put up her hands up with the shoes,"Hey, I was just stating what I thought." 

She quickly slid on the harness, sliding the dagger into it. Haekhael was just a little worried it would jab her thigh, but fortunately, it seems secure. Haekhael put on the shoes, which rather by fortune or misfortune, fit just fine. Almalexia offered her hand as Haekhael would pull it to stand up. 

Soon the three would arrive with Nerevar and Voryn. Haekhael stuck close to Almalexia, as it was her duty. Almalexia danced with Nerevar, Vivec, and she even got Sotha Sil to dance. Haekhael watched closely standing beside whoever paired with Almalexia. Although a very taller chimer would nervously tap her shoulder. She raised a brow, having to look up to see who tapped her shoulder. He looked much like Voryn. His hair was braided beautifully, and his voice was sweet,"Hi, I was wondering if I may take a dance with you." 

Haekhael would shake her head,"No sir, I'm on duty. I thank you for the offer." 

She smiled a bit, the mer politely bowed his head and left. She felt a little bad, and she really had wanted to dance, but Haekhael had to focus on protecting Almalexia. And that's when Haekhael heard bow string snap and then the whistle of an arrow. She side stepped, holding out her arm in front of Almalexia. Instead of the arrow landing presumably to kill Almalexia or Nerevar, it landed in Haekhael's shoulder. A soft gasp echoed in the room. But all Haekhael could see was red. In her rage, she grabbed the arrow and pulled it from her arm. She ran and pushed anyone out of the way. This included Voryn Dagoth, as he was shoved to the side.

The woman would push through the crowd of tall and short mer alike and cornered the assassin. The assassin wore a wornout Morag Tong uniform, and an amulet. 

"Halt assassin!" 

"Never!" The mer cried, Haekhael tackled the armored assassin. She put her hand on the mer's neck and they fought. Haekhael tore off the elf's helmet to reveal an elderly dwemer. Many scars laid on his face. It was fragile, Haekhael would remain merciless. 

_______________________

Her arm had need to be patched up. Voryn had her laying down. As he began to cleanse the wound he said,"This could have been avoided if you just  wore pauldrons." 

Haekhael flinched from Voryn touching the tender shoulder. She tightly gripped on part of her robes, as to not slap Voryn. She grunted as he began to heal the small wound with a spell,"Hopefully that wasn't poisoned." "Well, if it was, it was poorly done. Although, I am surprised you're not dead." "That is the story of my life." 

Voryn rolled his eyes,"Whatever you say, sit up. I need to see you move your arm around." 

Haekhael ignored his request and leaned back,"I don't know, I feel pretty tired after ripping an arrow out of my shoulder and crippling an elderly mer." "I will yank you up myself if I have to. Do not test me." "Alright, alright, I'm getting up. Just don't murder me." 

Haekhael sat up slowly, nervously holding out her arm. She moved her shoulder around. There was no pain, only movement. Haekhael used her other hand and pressed against what was left. The memory of where the arrow hit. There was now a scar in the place. 

A soft knock was at the door. Voryn looked over,"Whoever it is, you can come in." "Almalexia was almost assassinated and I would have died, and you're going to allow anyone in?" "Well you're not dead and neither is she, I doubt anyone will try again tonight."

The door creaked open,"It's just me, I swear, I mean no harm." "Ah, Araynys. Have you met tonight's hero?"

The mer was familiar, his braided hair was over his shoulder. He had a light stubble of ebony hair. In a cheery voice the tall mer would say,"Oh, yes! I tried to ask her for a dance. Foolish, as she was on duty."

Haekhael chuckled a bit,"Well, at the moment I'm off duty. My name is Haekhael by the way." 

Araynys walked over and picked up her hand,"It's a pleasure to properly meet you. And a shame I haven't heard more of you! I saw how you wrangled that assassin with ease. Almalexia is blessed to have you as part of her guard." 

Voryn rolled his eyes,"Stop, you're feeding an already big ego." "Speak for your self, I think its quite nice to be appreciated for my work. It's nice to meet you as well, Araynys."

Araynys let go and put his hands at his sides, he seemed childishly shy. He put his hands together and mustered up the little bit of confidence he could and said,"I know there's no music to dance to, but since you said you were off duty, may I have a short dance?" 

Haekhael stood up and grabbed Araynys hand,"Of course, its always nice to make new friends. Though, out of common courtesy I must say I can't dance well. Forgive me if I step on any toes." "That's alright, I know how to dance and I'm still terrible." 

"Have fun being terrible together, try not to get shot with another arrow." Voryn said as he went to the door, shutting it behind him. 

Araynys towered over Haekhael, yet he was gentle as he grabbed her hand and waist. The two carefully stepped along. Still, they managed to step on each other. Haekhael led the dance in the small room as they spun around. Haekhael ended up slipping, and thus, taking Araynys with her. As they crashed, they laughed. Haekhael sat up and apologized. Araynys just shrugged it off,"Don't worry about it. I hope to get to know you more." 

Haekhael smiled,"Yes... You best be off though. I hope to see you more often, preferably under different circumstances."

[folderolsfollies]

sangyao arranged marriage fic (arranged by Nie Huaisang)

summary: Before Jin Zixuan and Jiang Yanli’s marriage and after Wei Wuxian’s flight to the burial mounds, Jin Guangyao is rapidly gaining power, which a strong marriage alliance would cement. Jin Guangyao likes taking care of people. Nie Huaisang wants to be a trophy husband. If you ignore literally everyone else in their lives, they’re a perfect couple. (Basically I saw this post and then this post and then I blacked out thinking about playing games with power dynamics.)

word count: 2.5k rating: t

Part 1

“San-ge! San-ge!” Nie Huaisang shouts, skidding through the halls of the Unclean Realm. He has to go farther than he thought before he sees the ridiculous black official’s hat bobbing along, one of the disciples had only informed him that Jin Guangyao was there when he was practically out of the door, since for some bizarre reason, Jin Guangyao has made the trek all the way over to Qinghe and didn’t even bother telling him.

When he reaches the other man, he flings his arms around his neck.

“Second Young M-ah, Nie Huaisang...”, says Jin Guangyao warningly, but his eyes are bright and laughing, and he doesn’t step away until Nie Huaisang releases him. His eyes are darting around the halls, but the halls are deserted. Nie Huaisang had made sure to intercept him in a quiet spot.

“Why don’t you just call me A-Sang,” Nie Huaisang says mischievously, “After all, we’re brothers now!”

Jin Guangyao gaze dims and he looks down. “I wouldn’t dare take the liberty, not in your brother’s home,” he murmurs, chin tucked in, eyes firmly planted on the floor. And now that won’t do one bit.

Nie Huaisang points at him with his fan, playfully. “Oh, Da-ge, he just shouts. If he gives you any trouble, just come to me! I’ll protect you,” he says, and grins, remembering the way that Meng Yao would scold him for missing practice and then say, well Young Master, I’ll protect you this time, but don’t do it again!, the both of them knowing that he would never listen unless it suited him.

Jin Guangyao is looking up again and grinning now, and he says, “And how does Nie Huaisang propose to protect me? With his saber?” He’s openly laughing at Nie Huaisang, and it fills Huaisang with a helpless, giddy fondness. Little Meng Yao, who flinches like a kicked dog at every low-level disciple, always with that polite strained smile, gets so vicious when he’s around Nie Huaisang. He’s like a bird with a broken wing. Nie Huaisang wants to tape him up and let him fly.

But the trick with trapping a wild animal is that you can’t let them know that you see them, or it gives the game away. “I was thinking I’d cry until he forgave us, actually” he says, and does a massively fake pout for emphasis. “Now that I’m your little brother, you’ll have to get wise to all my tricks.”

Jin Guangyao smiles, a quick little glimmer like a fish gleaming brightly from deep within murky water. Jin Guangyao has a whole repertoire of smiles, smiles of appeasement and anger and reproach, but this to gain this one is a particular treasure, and Nie Huaisang will say a staggering amount of nonsense if he can see it again. “Not much of a trick, if you announce that it’s one when you’re doing it.”

Nie Huaisang looks at him, and pitches his voice as serious as Lan Qiren 2,000 rules deep into a lecture at the Cloud Recesses, “Ah, you see, my devoted pupil, the real trick is to lull your target into a false sense of security. Then they’ll never see your real schemes coming.” He taps his finger on the side of his nose, like his friend Wei Wuxian constantly does, and hopes that it reads the same on his delicate features as it does on Wei Wuxian’s handsome ones.

It must work well enough, because Jin Guangyao’s quick-fish smile is back, and his posture is relaxed enough for Nie Huaisang to drag him through the halls with only cursory protests about how he really must be going back to Lanling, he has important work to do, his father would never-

“Ugh, your father,” Nie Huaisang says, carelessly, and feels Jin Guangyao stiffen under his arms.

Before Jin Guangyao can say anything to ruin the pleasantness of the moment, Nie Huaisang says quickly, “Ugh, sorry, I’m stupid! You know I wasn’t old enough to really know my father until his last days, and by then he was, well, unwell,” he finishes delicately. Nie Mingjue probably wouldn’t like him using his father’s last moments like this, as a bait, but Nie Huaisang kicks the brief stab of guilt merrily to the side. Frankly, this is the least that his father could do for him, he feels. The last three months of his life really were not ideal. (Hiding in his locked room, Mingjue’s hand briefly clasping his before he leaves the room to face him, the noise of someone screaming - well. All in the past now.)

As he suspected, Jin Guangyao has softened at the mention of Nie Huaisang’s Tragic Past, which is exactly as he had wanted it to go. “You’re not stupid, young master, family is sometimes difficult,” he says politely. There’s an opening there, if he wants to push it- with the way that Madam Jin and Jin Guangshan and Jin Guangyao all deliberately look past each other when they’re trapped in a room together, it’s truly stupid how the larger cultivator world can’t seem to see that there’s something fishy going on there - Nie Huaisang thinks, and then lets it go.

“Ah,” he says, and schools his features to look carefully brave for a second, “but let’s talk about happier things! I’ve done some remodelling on the aviary, you should come and see the new birds.” It’s also usually deserted and with clear sight-lines in all directions, which are two things which automatically relax Jin Guangyao.

The truly nice thing about Jin Guangyao is that Nie Huaisang can manhandle him all that he likes, because if Jin Guangyao truly has better things to do, he’ll be all Yes, Nie-er-gongzi, and, you’re very wise, Nie-er-gongzi, and melt away the moment Nie Huaisang isn’t looking, so Nie Huaisang feels no compunction regarding linking their arms together and tugging him towards the aviary.

Nie Huaisang makes the trip up and down the aviary’s spiral staircase all the time, but if he still takes the opportunity to lean against Meng Yao when they reach the top, to place one hand on his forearm, huffing a little to show how laborious of a trip it was, well, who’s hurt by it? It’s good to make a show of uselessness sometimes. Meng Yao certainly doesn’t say anything. He’s wearing golden silk robes with squares of bright, shining gold inlaid in the fabric, and the smooth portions are an interesting textural contrast to the rougher raw silk. Nie Huaisang pets it gently, to feel the texture shift under his palms, smooth, rough, rough, smooth. His mind feels pleasantly empty, narrowed down to just the sensation of cloth and the harsh rustle of fabric.

Meng Yao’s mouth is smiling, which doesn’t mean anything, but his eyes are wide and confused. His gaze is fixed on Nie Huaisang’s hands, where their two sleeves are twined together like grafted tree roots. A long moment passes before Meng Yao pulls away, and carefully smooths out the creases that Nie Huaisang has made in the fabric. He doesn’t say anything at all.

For no reason, Nie Huaisang feels his cheeks heating up, feels like blurting out an apology, and he rushes into the aviary ahead of him, speaking a little too fast and loud.

He darts among his birds, showing him which ones have laid new eggs and which ones he’s bought recently, and all the new plants that he’s brought in to simulate Gusu’s mountainous environment for his new black bulbul. Nie Huaisang doubts that Jin Guangyao spends more than a quarter shichen thinking about birds when he’s away from the Unclean Realm, and that probably on what to serve at a feast, but he still remembers exactly how it was the last time he came, and comments cleverly on the new arrangements. Sometimes Nie Huaisang misses Meng Yao so abruptly he can’t breathe, misses that serious, attentive face, the way that he took him not too seriously, but just seriously enough.

He has a fantasy where Meng Yao just told him about the guard that had treated him so badly that it had led to his banishment. Would have Huaisang killed the man for him? Well, probably not. But there are ways to disgrace a man, banish him without lifting a finger. Huaisang lies in bed at night and thinks about all those ways. Although it doesn’t matter anyway, clever Meng Yao has landed on his feet, hasn’t he?

When he thinks that, he’s filled with a sense of disquiet. Meng Yao was Nie first - well, Nie before Jin, at least, and he hopes that he hasn’t forgotten that.  “Come, braid my hair,” he says suddenly, plopping down on a chair, and Meng Yao doesn’t raise an eye at the sudden change of topic. “I can’t reach the back properly and nobody does it as well as you.” By nobody, he’s means Da-ge, and they both know it, but he won’t breach their fragile bubble of happiness by mentioning him if Meng Yao won’t.

“Nie Huaisang, you’re too hard on yourself,” Meng Yao says, smiling and patient, “you braid beautifully,” but he’s already reaching for the comb that Huaisang is handing to him, lining behind Nie Huaisang. The gesture is familiar, the room is familiar, the murmurations of the birds through the trees are familiar. Nie Huaisang’s skin tingles in anticipation. He can feel the phantom weight of fingertips scratching along his scalp, teasing into straightness every errant whorl of hair. The way that his unbound hair would hang along his waist, the looseness and lightness of it.

Meng Yao, standing behind him, drags a thumb around the circlet holding his hair up, in between the heavy loops of braids and the hair underneath. The sensation is too dull, fleeting. “Your hair looks fine, Huaisang,” Meng Yao says quietly, his cool breath tickling Huaisang’s ear.

Huaisang twists around quickly so they’re facing each other, and it’s ungraceful. Nie Huaisang remembers - in the past - when he’d turn to talk to Meng Yao, it was like Meng Yao had somehow created a Huaisang shaped bubble that he could just slot into. Something has changed, in the last two years, and the shape of space between them is all wrong. Jin Guangyao’s eyes are pointed in the wrong direction, and Nie Huaisang’s face is too close.

He shuffles backwards a little, angles his face a little, and it’s still not the same, but now he can breathe. His usual tricks won’t work. Jin Guangyao won’t believe that he’s bad at it, and he can no longer threaten him with Da-ge. Well, there’s another tactic he hasn’t tried.

“Please, Jin-er-gongzi?” He says, looking down. It feels strange to address him so formally, to someone who’s worn the Nie family braids and who wears Huaisang’s hairpiece in his hair, but it also feels right. Smart, elegant, deadly - Mingjue may have always seen him as a delicate servant boy, but Nie Huaisang always saw him as a prince.

Eyes still focused on the floor, he chances a quick glance upwards. Jin Guangyao’s smile has frozen. He doesn’t know what game they’re playing.

He straightens. “I’ll start calling you that more,” he says decisively, scheme forgotten, “It’ll be helpful to you. I’ll get Da-ge on board too.”

Meng Yao gapes at him for a moment before he smooths it over, glint of a fish in the river before its lost again to the murky depths, and Nie Huaisang hadn’t known he could make that expression at all. “Jin-er-gongzi,” he says experimentally, to see if he can draw it out again, but Jin Guangyao has his smiling face firmly in place again.

“It’ll take more than that to earn my place,” Jin Guangyao says, and underneath his pleasant tone it sounds bitter, like the taste of ink under Nie Huaisang’s tongue. It sounds real.

Nie Huaisang drops his closed fan, and when he catches it by the head, it’s open in his hand. He flutters it, and opens his mouth to see what would come out. “A marriage would help with that, surely,” he says.

“I will have faith in what the elders decide, when that time comes, which of course would be after my elder brother weds,” Jin Guangyao says demurely, which they both know is a crock of shit; the elders all defer to Jin Guangshan, and what that man knows about marriage or women - and it would have to be a woman, with Jin Guangshan - in general could fit on the back of a talisman paper, if the paper was very small and the handwriting very large.

“Hm, yes, Da-ge is never interested in marriage, which is great! Because then nobody ever bothers me about it,” Huaisang says instead, and doesn’t add that it’s likely because the prospect of him creating more little Nie Huaisang’s is most likely terrifying to all involved.

Nie Huaisang has always seen the workings of his mind like a vast and subtle river, which overflows its banks and deposits thoughts to him, not fully under his own control. So he’s not fully sure what motivates him to continue, “And you know Da-ge’s so protective, I’d need someone who would protect me, just like you used to do.”

“You have to learn to stand up for yourself, Nie Huaisang,” Meng Yao says, and his large eyes are softly distant, like he’s listening to a thought, “there won’t always be someone to rescue you.”

I miss you- Come home, Nie Huaisang thinks, and the thought is sharp enough to feel like pain. “I’ll try, Jin-gongzi,” he says instead politely, “although you know about my weak cultivation.”

Another nice thing about Meng Yao is, when Nie Huaisang complains about his weakness, Meng Yao never argues against him or says that he would magically get better if he tried a little harder, worked a little more, he points out Nie Huaisang’s skill at art and astrology and Taoist magic. His tone is indulgent, parental. “In that sort of conflict, it’s not always your cultivation skill that counts,” he says, low and warm, like he’s imparting a lesson.

“I know, I know” says Nie Huaisang, who does know, who has been watching Meng Yao stammer and apologize and look deeply horrified at small misdeeds since before he realized what that sort of coquettishness implied. Whenever Nie Huaisang tries to imitate it, it comes out a child’s whine. Not a princess in need of rescuing, but a small dog that can be indulged or kicked aside.

“I must be going,” Meng Yao says, finally. “I am needed back at Lanling.” There’s a tone of finality in his voice.

Nie Huaisang is filled with a sudden, ridiculous desire, but he’s found that the consequences of indulging them have never been terrible. Not for him. He leans forward into the space between the two of them.

When he thumbs off Jin Guangyao’s ridiculous hat, there’s a circlet of Nie braids coiled like a serpent on the top of his head.

Nie Huaisang smiles. “I’ll see you soon.” he says.

[theendofthematerialgworl]

That One Time Ryan Got Proof That Demons Exist (Mainly Because Shane Got Mad)

Title: That One Time Ryan Got Proof That Demons Exist (Mainly Because Shane Got Mad)

Warnings: Swearing, demons, Ryan being mildly traumatized

Word Count: 2,144

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Prologue

You walked through the Winchester House quietly, exploring as you spoke quietly. “My dad got me in here, by the way, so, uh, thanks Dad.”

You were a demon. However, as far as your viewers and the rest of the world knew, it was all a very elaborate cosplay.

“I have to be out of here pretty quick, because their gonna start their filming soon, so-” You heard the door open and your father’s voice and swore quietly. “Crap. They’re here.” You turned the camera on your phone so that your viewers could see your face. “So, I have two options.” You whispered. “Either I sneak out, slamming the door behind me to scare Ryan, or, I fuck with them and make Ryan shit his pants. I’m going with the second.”

You began screwing with them, stomping around, slamming doors, and generally making Ryan near-shit his pants.

As the weeks, months, and years went on, you piggybacked off of their popularity, and they unknowingly piggybacked off of yours. Of course, your dad, Shane Madej, found out eventually. The two of you had made a compromise.

“I still get to screw with you guys, but I won’t screw around with the spirit box, or the flashlights. I will leave those alone. Deal?”

Your dad had sighed. “Deal.”

Today

That had been nearly three years ago. Currently, you were filming, still on your phone (because bringing anything else could alert them to your presence) and still fucking with the Ghoul Boys.

“I think I might get in huge trouble for this one, I’m going extreme today.”

It was the third time they had been at the Winchester house, making a saga that the people loved.

“I don’t know how they manage to make more of this, honestly, but apparently you guys love this house and how scared Ryan gets, so they did it, I guess. Oh, my dad is going to kill me.”

They were going to stay in Sarah’s room for half an hour, alone. Shane, your father, was going first, and you were incredibly pleased with it. Well, he always went first, but still. It gave you the time you needed to summon a demon.

Whenever your father said something along the lines of, “Hey, spirits, kill me.” You always threw something at him. Jokingly, of course, you didn’t actually want to kill your father. Your main job was getting to the house before they did so that you could use a ouija board to open a door/prep the spirits and help them with their fear of your father. “Alright, Sarah, it’s your turn. What would you like to do?”

A ghost hammer got thrown at his face, narrowly missing.

“Well. M’Kay, Sarah, I thought we had a deal.”

She did not seem to care, as her pale, see-through self just ignored you.

“Woah, what was that?” Your father asked.

“What?” Ryan called.

“Something got thrown at my face!” He called back.

“Oh, my God.” Ryan said from the other side of the door.

About fifteen minutes later, the real fun began.

“Oh, my Dad is going to kill me.” You muttered. “Sarah, you go first, I have a hell of a lot planned.”

Sarah didn’t really seem to care much about Ryan, so you waited about five minutes before you started on the small stuff. For example, tugging slightly on his shirt, stomping around, mussing up his hair because your sixteen-year-old self was only about two inches shorter than him.

Ryan was sufficiently terrified. “I am so scared, oh, my God.”  He took a breath. “Okay, I’m gonna turn on the spirit box.” You immediately set your phone down on the bed and clapped your hands over your ears. You heard the static of the spirit box, and took your hands off your ears. “Okay, I’m good now,” You muttered. “but I do have to stop talking for a bit.”

You heard your own voice come through the spirit box.

“What was that?” Ryan said. He took a breath.

Shit.

“My name is Ryan. Um, if there is a ghost, can you please say my name back to me?”

You nudged Sarah, and she sighed. “No.” She said.

You huffed. “Fine.” You mouthed back.

“What?” Ryan asked. “Did you just say ‘no’? Uh, if someone just said ‘no’, could you please tell me your name? I��m here for Sarah.”

After a few more minutes, Ryan turned off the spirit box, and you sighed gratefully. “Thank Satan, he turned off that blasted box.”

Throughout the rest of his time in the room, you evenly spaced out all of your interactions as to not scare Ryan too much. You didn’t actually want to hurt him, so you had never done too much, especially not all at the same time. You tended to repeat actions ever once in a while, too, because while you were somewhat creative, you weren’t exactly a well of new ideas.

Ryan looked terrified by the time he got out of the room.

“Hey, are you okay?” Shane asked. “What happened down there?”

“A lot. Oh, my God.” Ryan jumped, as you had tapped on his shoulder.

“What?” “Something just tapped my shoulder…” He had turned around, but couldn’t see you, as you had gone invisible. “There’s nothing there.”

“Yeah.” Shane said. “I’m sure you just imagined it. You’re letting your fear get to you.”

“Yeah.” Ryan breathed. “Yeah. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

They continued on throughout the house.

“So, I know I said that I’m going to do something big today, because it is their third time in the Winchester House, and so it’s mine, too.” You said, having moved to a different room, across the house from where Shane and Ryan were. “And it might-well, I know I’m an asshole, but, uh, it-it might be a bit much, in terms of scaring Ryan. Dad won’t be scared, because he knows that it’s me, probably, and, ya know, not, like a ghost, or something.

“Anyway, you will see what I’m about to do. If you hadn’t noticed, like almost always, I am wearing flame retardant clothing. The reason why is because I don’t want to get burned by what I’m about to do.

“So, I will be summoning a demon to do my bidding, and this demon can light themselves on fire, which is part of the reason the clothing I’m wearing is flame retardant. Um, this demon, I will make sure they don’t burn the Winchester House down, or anything, I’m not that stupid, I’d rather not set this house on fire and get sued and/or thrown in jail.

“Alright, I have my little setup here…” You spoke a few words in a Latin (which didn’t actually mean anything), and one of your favorite demons, Lilith, appeared.

“What are you asking me to do here?” She asked immediately.

“I need you to light yourself on fire and go scare Ryan and my dad.”

“Wow. This is insane, even by your standards.”

“I know, I know, but please!” You gave puppy eyes, and she sighed.

“Fine.”

“Thank you!”

“Where are they?” Lilith sighed.

“Follow me. And keep out of sight.”

The two of you walked along the house, taking a few secret passages to get there faster.

“Satan, I hate this house.”

“Yeah, me, too. But I also kinda love it.”

“Screw you.”

You snorted. “You wish.”

“I really, really don’t.”

You heard your father and Ryan’s voices and stopped. “They’re here.” You pointed to the duo. They were standing in the kitchen, staring at the flashlights that were sitting on the counter. “Fuck around with the flashlights first, actually.”

“Gotcha.” Lilith stretched for a moment, probably to be dramatic.

“Alright, and…go!” You whispered.

“If you want to kill us-”

“Stop bringing me into your shit, Shane!” Ryan interrupted.

“Fine. If you want to kill me, Shane, turn on the white flashlight and turn off the black one.”

Lilith stepped over, heels, dark dress, and all, and slowly turned off the black flashlight, then turned on the white one. “OH, MY GOD!” Ryan screamed, jumping back. “What was-oh, my God.”

You nodded at Lilith, and she stepped down to the end of the hallway.

“Alright, I’m out-” Ryan began.

It was then that Lilith set herself on fire.

She began walking forward, keeping clear from the walls so as to not light them on fire. Of course, that wasn’t going to do much, because you had already made sure that they wouldn’t with magic. Thank God/Satan for fire-proofing spells.

Ryan was screaming. “OH, MY GOD! SHANE! OH, MY GOD!”

“Shit.” You muttered.

You father looked pissed.

“Lilith. Lilith, stop, that’s enough. That’s enough.”

Lilith disappeared, the fire stopping along with it.

Ryan looked terrified.

“I am so dead.” You muttered.

“You know what? You know what?” You father said. “Ryan, you’re going to get your proof. (Y/N) (Y/M/N) Madej, come out here right now!”

“No!” You yelled back, your voice echoing around the room. “I though we were supposed to keep this a secret!”

“Come out right fucking now, you are in so much trouble!”

“I will not!” You argued.

“You will! Or I won’t let you do magic for the next month!”

“This is tyranny, I tell you! Tyranny!” You yelled back, coming into view.

If it was possible, Ryan had gone even paler.

“What the hell was that?” Shane asked.

“Well, I figured since it was your third time in the Winchester House, and three is an important number, I would freak you guys out more than usual-”

“And you thought that was a good idea? Look at Ryan! He looks like he going to black out!”

Ryan did indeed look like he was going to black out.

“Sorry, Ryan.” You said.

He was silent, staring at you in slight horror, his eyes flicking from your face, to your horns, to your wings, to the thorny circlet on your head.

Ryan’s hand had, without your notice, gone to the holy water gun that was attached to his hip. He brought it out and pointed it at you.

“Woah, woah, woah! Don’t shoot, don’t shoot!” You exclaimed, putting your hands up and backing away slightly. Shane stepped in front of you, ready to take the hit if necessary, but you pushed him out of the way and stepped forward cautiously. “Look, I’m sorry for screwing with you and summoning Lilith and all that, but really, I promise you, it was all in good fun. I made her swear not to hurt you.”

Ryan let the gun fall to his side, though he didn’t put it back in the holster, still terrified.

“I suppose I should introduce myself.” You sketched a bow, (Y/H/C) hair swinging down over your shoulders. “Lady (Y/N) Madej of Hell, at your service.” You grinned, causing your pointed white fangs to come into view.

“Ryan Bergara.” Ryan said, sounding dazed.

“Yeah, I know. Uh, sorry about the whole ‘summoning Lilith and scaring you really bad’ thing. Like I said earlier, I promise it was all in good fun.”

“What are those?” Ryan asked, pointing to your horns and wings.

“Just my…uh, extra appendages. Kinda the usual for demons like me, especially within the higher-ups.”

“You…You’re a lady of Hell?”

“Yep!” You said cheerfully. “Oh, Dad, I do hope you don’t mind that this is all on video, but I’ll probably edit it out.”

“Edit it out.”

“Yeah.”

“Wait.” Ryan said. “If you’re a Lady of Hell, and Shane’s your Dad, that means…”

“Shane Madej, Lord of Hell.” Shane said.

Ryan collapsed.

“Shit!” You exclaimed. “Oh, God, oh, no. Dad, magic?”

“No, that’ll just freak him out more. Use mortal first aid.”

“Gotcha. Um…You loosen constrictive clothing and I’ll hold his legs above his head and slap his face.”

It took a few minutes for Ryan to wake up. When he finally did, it was to you and your dad smiling down at him. “You good?” Shane asked.

“Yeah, Big Guy. Please tell me I didn’t just see a demon?”

“Nope, I’m a demon!”

“My God.”

“Eh.” You said. “He’s okay. Kinda weird sometimes.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. You’d be surprised.”

There was a noise from down the hall, and Ryan screamed. You huffed. “Don’t worry, just the wind.” You lied. “Take it from me.” It was, in fact, Sarah Winchester, who very much wanted the three of you to get the hell out of her house. “Yeah, yeah, we’re going.” You muttered. “Ryan, Dad? We should go.”

“Filming’s wrapped up anyway.” Shane said. “I think we got enough.”

“Let’s get out of here.” Ryan looked, to be honest, traumatized.

“Sorry about all that.” You said as you left.

“On the bright side, at least I know that ghosts and demons are real now.”

“Are you gonna stop the series?”

“Nah. I didn’t get a theater degree for nothing.”

[loving-jack-kelly]

oh! many thanks are proffered! conceivably, perhaps a royalty anecdote, if you so desire, to dispense it to one, by way of illustration, myself and others?

The way you talk is making my day please keep talking to me.

But also let’s write a royalty AU!

As a prince, Jack had plenty of people to chose from to romance.

Almost any of the nobles’ daughters, even a few of their sons, wouldn’t hesitate to respond is Jack said anything remotely romantic to them. Any number of the maids, the kitchen staff, the women who worked in the courtyard, would swoon if Jack smiled at them, wave daintily from a window if he glanced up at them, make a point of fixing everything exactly how he liked it, anything for attention from the prince.

That was the problem, though, wasn’t it? Attention from the prince not attention from Jack. They wanted his attention not for who he was, but for what he was.

Which was why Jack, taking a lead out of one of his old books of fairy tales, had gotten his hand on some old clothes (by giving new one to the stable boy who had owned them) and found a way out (by agreeing to keep the cook’s secret stash of royal leftovers secret) to the real world.

Beyond his tiny bubble of royal life, the world was entirely different. People laughed and smiled genuinely, not just to further an agenda. When Jack talked, people ignored him and went on with their days, rather than looking at him intently with glazed over eyes, smiling and nodding to anything he said.

When he was out in the city in old clothes, when he had dirt on his face and his hair wasn’t contained in his little gold circlet, people treated him just like any other kid on the streets.

The best part of that was definitely getting to talk to people. Pretty girls, of course, would once in awhile come up and talk to him, but they would talk to anyone who would listen. The working girls would come and ask him to help with their chores, carrying things they couldn’t. The girls who sold flowers would tuck a broken stem behind his ear, the girls who worked in bakeries gave him crusts.

His favorite interaction, though, quickly became the boy with the crutch who sat on a curb and wove flowers into crowns and bracelets and necklaces to sell for a small coin. The first time Jack interacted with him, he ended up with a thin daisy chain bracelet around his wrist and a smile on his face.

After that, Jack made a point of sitting next to the boy, Crutchie, every time he snuck out. Crutchie always had something funny and sunshiney to say, something to make Jack laugh, and he almost always had something made of flowers to give to Jack.

One day a buttercup to tuck into his hair, one day a tiny bouquet, one day a necklace, a bracelet.

“Did you hear? The prince’s birthday!” Crutchie called brightly as soon as he saw Jack approaching.

“Yeah,” Jack sighed, glancing back towards the castle.

“I hear he’s having a huge party tonight! Everyone’s coming, from all over! I think I’m going to move closer later.”

“Yeah, it’s gonna be a big deal,” Jack had left among a flurry of activity, people getting rooms ready for guests, cooks rushing around making last minute adjustments to the food, and so, so many people trying to get Jack ready, as though it would take all day. He hated it, he hated how claustrophobic it made him feel, and he had needed to get out.

“Oh, I have something for you! Look-a crown! Because, get it? Your name is Jack and so is the prince’s, and it’s his birthday!” Crutchie grinned proudly and held up his creation, a ring of brightly colored flowers weaving in and around themselves into a crown surprisingly similar to Jack’s actual circlet. Crutchie reached up and tucked the crown into Jack’s hair, slipping the stems that still stuck out in to make it stay in place.

“Thanks, Crutchie.” Jack smiled gently.

“You know what’s funny?”

“What?” Crutchie smiled thoughtfully, still tucking in the last of the crown.

“You. You only show up once in awhile, but when you do, you always find me. I don’t know anything about you except your name, but you’re obviously from around here because you have our accent. You just like to listen to me. That’s funny.” Crutchie’s bright grin came back as he stepped back and looked at his handiwork. “Also funny, you share a name with the prince, and also look kinda like him. Although, I like flowers better than gold, I think.” Jack almost froze, but recovered quickly. He knew that things would change as soon as Crutchie knew he was the prince, and he didn’t want that.

“You know, I think you might have a bias.” Crutchie laughed brightly, leaning comfortably against his crate of flowers and beginning to weave a new creation.

“Maybe.” For a few minutes, Jack just watched Crutchie’s nimble fingers create first a small bracelet, then a longer necklace. “I dunno, they’re nicer. When he comes through here all decked out in gold, it’s announcing, hey, I’m richer than you, I’ve got it better than you, look at my fancy crown. But when I see you in a flower crown, it isn’t any of that, it’s just happy little flowers in a circle. I think the prince could use a flower crown, maybe. Maybe so he could be a good king, it would help him to know more what we do, instead of just what he does.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Their conversation paused while Crutchie sold a few of his little pieces to a woman passing by, exchanging small talk as well as money and flowers.

“I think even the prince sometimes looks uncomfortable with it, sometimes. Last week, when he rode through on the horse? He made eye contact with me, I think, and he just looked…sad. Lonely, I guess.”

“He probably is. It would be lonely, living up there with the only kids his age wanting to be friends with him for power, instead of for who he is. And maybe he just wants to be friends with somebody who doesn’t want that.” Jack said.

“I know I want friends who are friends with me not out of pity.” Crutchie said sadly. “A lot of people just are nice because they feel bad, either because I’m poor or because of my leg.” He looked up at Jack like he was trying to gauge his reaction.

“I’m not friends with you for that. I’m friends with you because the first time we met you gave me daisies and an apple. You’re nice, and funny. Fun to talk to.” Crutchie smiled again, brighter than before.

“Cool.” He bumped a shoulder against Jack’s. “I though you wouldn’t do that.”

“Never.” Jack bumped him back, but looked up at the clock and sighed. “I have to go, Crutch. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Come back sooner than this time. It’s been weeks.”

“I know, sorry. I’ll try.”

“Bye, then.” Crutchie waved as Jack walked away, heading back towards the palace.

As he walked, Jack carefully pulled every loose stem from where they had been tucked in his hair, keeping the crown intact and holding it gently. Slipping inside was harder than usual, he was almost caught by at least several people, but he made it to his room and hung the crown gently behind his clothes, with his collection of other dried gifts.

“Your highness? Your father says he wants you downstairs in half an hour, and that I’m to make sure you’re dressed and cleaned.”

“Come in then, Jamey.” The boy came in and took in Jack’s dirty face. “Don’t ask, I’m fine, just get my clothes ready and I’ll wash up.”

“Okay.” Jamey shrugged and went into the closet, pulling out the brand new jacket and pants that Jack had just finished getting fit to him the day before. “Your highness?”

“Just call me Jack, please, Jamey. But what?”

“You know there’s a whole bunch of flowers behind all your clothes?”

“Yeah, I know. They’re fine, I’m drying them to save.”

“Okay.” Jamey was a quiet boy, and Jack had known him for years. His mother was one of the head housekeepers, and he’d been working for long as Jack could remember, just helping where he was needed. He wouldn’t tell secrets for anything.

Jack came back from his washing table, clean wherever anyone could see, the dirt and pollen gone from his face and hands. Jamey helped him get his shirt and on, his jacket buttoned. 

“I can get the rest on myself, thanks.”

“Okay.” Jamey paused at the door. “Happy birthday…Jack.” Jack smiled at him.

“Thanks, Jamey. I’ll see you later.”

“Of course.”

The part, of course, was miserable.

Well, the food was good, and there were a couple of people Jack didn’t mind.

The tiny child king from Ruviel, a year younger than Jack and already in charge, had marched right up, glaring at the lord who was following him, and introduced himself as Spot, saying that he was only here because his regent said it would be a waste of time, seeing as how Jack wouldn’t be a powerful king, and he wanted to leave his country for a little while to get away from the lords who thought they were smarter than him. Jack liked his honesty, and he was funny, too.

And Princess Katherine, who came over and made a joke about how much she hated royal birthday parties before drifting around, looking perfectly at home except when she made eye contact with Jack and mouthed “help me.” 

But overall, Jack agreed with Crutchie. All those people, wearing as much gold and lace and scarlet and purple fabric as they could manage, just to prove they could. There wasn’t a single simple dress, no undecorated swathes of fabric, not neck or hand unadorned with a heavy ring or necklace. Everyone in the room, while smiling and laughing and acting like they were having fun, were really here to prove they were rich enough, influential enough, enough, to be invited to the crown prince’s birthday party.

As soon as it wasn’t incredibly impolite to do so, Jack quietly slipped away. He knew he wouldn’t be missed, as people sidled up to his parents and talked, or danced the night away.

He politely talked to a few people, eventually making it to his room. His jacket was off in seconds, and he flopped onto his bed, sighing. His open closet door caught his attention as he saw the flower crown hanging in the back. 

He sighed again, wishing that the simplicity Crutchie saw in a crown was more of what his life was like. 

“A happy little circle of flowers.” He whispered to himself, closing his eyes and wishing.

It was almost two weeks before Jack found time to slip into the city again and visit with Crutchie.

“I sold a lot of flowers on his birthday.” Crutchie commented, weaving together more flowers. “I got people to help move my stuff, and all the people watching the rich people get here bought things so they could feel fancier.”

“There were a lot of rich people.”

“I know! They all came all dressed up, in their fancy carriages and all! Did you watch?” Jack hesitated.

“A little.”

“From where? I didn’t see you anywhere, and I looked.”

“You looked for me?”

“Of course! I’m always watching for you.” Crutchie smiled like everyone was always constantly looking for their friend who only showed up once in awhile. “You’re only my best friend, Jack.”

“I’m your best friend?”

“Well, sure, you let me give you flowers, you listen when I talk, you laugh at my jokes, and every time you’re around you com see me. I think that make you my best friend.” Crutchie’s smile, impossibly, brightened when he saw Jack smile.

“I…thanks, Crutch. You’re my best friend, too.”

“Cool.” Again, they slipped into an easy silence while Jack watched Crutchie work.

“Oh! I have something for you!” Jack burst out, reaching into his pocket. “I figured you always give me something, so I’d bring you something for once.” He looked away while Crutchie unfolded the paper Jack had handed him, trying not to be obvious about waiting to see his reaction.

“Did you draw this?” Crutchie asked, tracing the lines with his finger.

“Yeah, it’s-”

“The prince. But in my flower crown instead of his.”

“Yeah. You said…you said you thought he could do with a flower crown for once, so I gave him one for you.”

“It’s lovely, Jacky.” Crutchie folded the drawing carefully, slipping it into his own pocket. “Thank you.” Crutchie looked like he was about to say more, but instead he blushed and look back down at his creation. “I’m trying something new.” He finally remarked. “A fancier kind of necklace. See, these parts will connect, if I did them right.” His tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth in concentration as he interlocked the four pieces he had made.

Jack found himself watching Crutchie’s face more than his hands, and he barely contained a sigh. He hated when he got crushes, always, but noticing his on Crutchie was worse than normal. Not only was Crutchie a boy, making it much less likely for the crush to be returned, but he also didn’t even know who Jack was. 

And if that changed, so would every interaction.

“There! Look!” Crutchie reached up and over, draping the delicate chain over Jack’s neck. “Pretty.”

“I like the flowers you used.”

“Thanks! I found them and Miss Rosaline told me that they would…be useful.” Jack didn’t miss the hesitation, but also didn’t know what it meant, so he chose to ignore it. “The round petals are white lilacs, and the spikier ones are jasmine.”

“I love them.” Crutchie blushed harder and kicked the ground in front of him a little bit.

“I’m glad. I love your drawing.”

“I’ll bring you another one next time.” Jack smiled.

“Really?”

“Sure. What do you want?”

“Anything, if it’s no bother.”

“Nah, I draw when I get bored, so I’ll pick one for you.”

“Thank you.”

The next time Jack saw Crutchie, he couldn’t even say anything, because he was riding through the city on his horse, in the middle of the train of officials and such, coming back from some stupid official thing that even though Jack was supposed to be learning how to run his own country for when he was king, nobody listened to him talk and nobody taught him anything.

While they were riding, Jack noticed Crutchie laughing with another boy in the crowd. Rather than sitting down with his crate, he was walking, watching the group go past. 

Crutchie looked up and met Jack’s eye, and his face turned quizzical when he spotted Jack looking directly at him. 

Jack touched his circlet, smiling slightly, and then froze when he saw the confusion on Crutchie’s face bloom into recognition and something else, something angrier. He looked away quickly, hoping against all hope that he’d misread the expression.

The next day he got away as soon as possible, barely catching up with people before pleading with the cook to not tell anyone that he was slipping out, and walked as fast as he could towards Crutchie’s corner.

“Crutchie!” Crutchie didn’t look up, focusing on his hands.

“Jack. How was your trip?”

“It’s not very long-”

“I meant the one to wherever. Far away. Complete with horses and suits and your little gold crown.”

“Crutchie, I-”

“You don’t have to lie anymore, Jack. Unless you have some other explanation for why the prince, the crown prince, rode past on his fancy white horse and smiled directly at me and tipped his crown, I know you’re the prince. Nobody but you knows my think with crowns.”

“I…sorry.” Jack finished in a whisper, sitting down on the other side of the crate of flowers sadly. “I just…”

“Lied.” Crutchie still didn’t look up, but Jack noticed his hands weren’t moving, just holding long stemmed flowers still. “You lied.”

“You never asked-” Jack defended himself weakly, knowing it didn’t mean much. Choosing not to tell the whole truth ended up being the same thing as lying.

“I didn’t think I had to. You seemed like an honest guy. An honest guy who just liked talking to me. What was it really, you needed to learn more about the people who don’t get to live with all they want all the time? You had to prove you cared about your people?”

“No! I like you, Crutchie, you really are my best friend! Please believe that!” Jack could feel tears welling in his eyes.

“I did. I want to. Why did you lie?” Jack tried to collect himself before answering.

“It’s suffocating, up there. I have everything I want except freedom. I go anywhere, people are there, I do anything, people are telling me not to. I want to eat something, ten people are there to tell me why I can’t have this or that, I have to explain why I do anything. I want to sit in my room and draw, people are there to tell me I can’t, because I have to be downstairs. That stupid birthday party was exactly how you described it. People dressed up as fancy as they could be, talking to me just to prove they could, wanting to prove they were big enough to be invited. Nobody likes me for me, nobody ever has. People like me because I’m the prince, and you liked me because I’m Jack, because you liked me. I never had that before, Crutchie. ever. The closest I have is Jamey, and he’s only my friend because he thinks he has to be.” Jack barely paused for breath. “Nobody listens to me, Crutchie, that thing I just came back from was supposed to help me learn  how to be a better king and instead I sat at a table feeling small while the big kids talked over me and refused to acknowledge me as somebody who has a brain in his head! And you never did that, you listened to me and talked to me like I was a normal kid and I loved that, Crutchie. You’re the only person in the whole world who really knows me. I’m sorry I didn’t tell the truth, I didn’t want to lose that.” Jack looked down at his own hands when he heard Crutchie sniffle a little bit. “I…I have another drawing for you, if you still want it.” He said quietly, unfolding his paper and pushing it across the top of the crate between them.

Crutchie picked it up gently, almost timidly, and looked at it carefully.

“It’s me.” He said softly. “In a flower field.” Jack nodded, and Crutchie huffed out a tiny laugh. “Do you know the language of flowers, Jack?” Jack hesitated.

“I…flowers can talk?” He was genuinely confused, and pleasantly surprised by the larger laugh it got from Crutchie.

“Not quite. You can use them to talk. Like that last necklace I gave you? White lilacs and jasmine. White lilacs mean innocence and jasmine means grace. Elegance. That’s what the necklace was.” He lifted up the flowers he was still holding in his hands, letting Jack see they were long stemmed roses. “Roses. Red roses. They…I mean I guess everyone knows what they mean. Love. Romance. Hope, for me. I was saving them” His face turned bittersweet as he talked. “I brought them today because I was sure you wouldn’t come.”

“You…saving them for somebody else?” That hurt more than Jack thought it would.

“I was saving them for who I thought you were. The boy who I thought I knew. The boy I fell in love with. Not the prince.” Crutchie’s voice was steady but when he looked over, Jack saw a tear fall off the tip of his nose.

“You…fell in love with me?”

“I fell in love with who I thought you were. With who you let me believe you were.”

“That’s who I am, Crutchie, you know me, you do!”

“Then who’s that, up there?” Crutchie pointed towards the palace, angry. Angry wasn’t a word Jack would have ever associated with him, but that’s what he was. Angry. “Who’s that person sitting on that throne, who’s face is on these coins, who wears that stupid circle of gold on his head? Because if this is you, then that’s not!”

“You’re right!” Jack burst out. “You’re right! That’s not me, Crutchie, it’s not! That kid, that perfect kid sitting on that damn throne is not me! It’s never been me, nobody knows me! Except you, dammit, you’re the only person who really, truly knows me! You fell in love with the real me, the kid who…who lit the throne room curtains on fire when he was ten to get attention, who loves chocolate and pie, who just wants a friend! That’s who I am, Crutchie, that’s who you know!”

“Is it?” Crutchie asked sadly. “How do I know that.”

“When I was ten I set the curtains on fire so somebody would pay me attention that wasn’t about my lessons, when I was twelve I convinced the cooks to give me an entire cake so I could eat something I enjoyed and I ate so much I got sick, when I was fourteen I went to my first stupid state dinner and watched the officials be completely confused by the pranks I pulled. When I was sixteen I gave a stable boy new clothes in exchange for his and snuck out the kitchen door to find a friend, and I found you, and dammit Crutchie you are my best friend. I come visit because I care, about you, not about anything else. I don’t care what people think about me, I just want…you.” Jack got quieter the longer he talked, ending in almost a whisper, looking down at his own hands. “I just want you, Crutchie, I’m sorry I lied.”

“What do you mean you want me?”

“I mean I want you to be my friend. I want what we had before, that casual closeness. I want to be able to sit next to you and talk, I want for you to put flower crowns in my hair, and necklaces around my neck, I want you tell me more about the language of flowers, maybe I want more than that, maybe I want to hold you close to me and be able to kiss you and…and love you, maybe I do. I don’t know, Crutchie, but I don’t want…this, I don’t want to be scared you’re going to pick a new corner and I’ll never see you again, I don’t want to lose everything. If I have to start over, I will, I want you to be my friend.” Crutchie met Jack’s eye for the first time.

“You mean it?”

“Yes, Crutchie, I mean it.” Jack almost reached for Crutchie’s hand, but stopped himself.

“All of it?”

“Yes.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” Crutchie stood up, slowly, and reached down to help Jack up. 

“Come with me?”

“Uh…yeah. Do you-” Crutchie let out a piercing whistle and a boy about their age was running up instantly.

“Bring it home, Finch?”

“Sure.” The boy picked up the crate and walked away with it, leaving Jack and Crutchie alone.

“He’s one of my friends. Just follow me?” Jack nodded, and followed Crutchie through the streets, watching the buildings get more and more dilapidated and far apart until they finally broke past the city walls into a field. “This is where my flowers come from. All sorts grow here, and we plant more.”

“We?”

“I’m not the only one selling flowers. Some girls sell bouquets, and me and a few other boys all sell things like mine. Like Finch. But this is where all our flowers come from.”

“Wow.”

“It’s just like how you drew it, see?” Crutchie waded out into the flowers and sat down, almost disappearing. “Come?” Jack sat down next to him, bright sunlight falling through the tall grass and flowers and lighting up Crutchie’s face in front of him, making Jack’s stomach flip. He wasn’t sure if it was from fear of losing him or the way being so close to him felt, but his stomach was turning somersaults. “Mostly we come here on Sundays, while people are inside. Nobody notices us leave, and nobody bothers us when we come back with our flowers. But that means nobody comes here other days, mostly. So we’re alone.”

“It’s pretty here.” Jack said, watching Crutchie lie back and look up at the sky for a moment before sitting back up.

“Yeah. I like it.” He was quiet for a second, and his silence was almost the easy silence they’d shared before, but with an undertone of something else. “Did you mean it, Jack? I mean really, really mean it. Everything you said about me and how…close you wanted to be?”

“Every word.” Crutchie leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. 

“Then here.” He pushed the roses he was still holding towards Jack. “These are for you.” Jack took them, four red roses, and sniffed them. “There was supposed to be more, but they weren’t as pretty.” Crutchie said, almost shyly.

“These are beautiful.” Jack breathed, and now he could identify why his stomach was determined to become and acrobat inside him. Crutchie was close, so close, close enough for Jack to be able to lean forward and kiss him if he wanted to, and it almost looked like he wanted to. 

“Red roses. Romance, love, longing, and desire.” Crutchie said quietly, meeting Jack’s eyes again. “Prove you meant it.” He challenged, and Jack took the challenge, kissing him gently and quickly before pulling away.

“Like that?”

“Perfect.” Crutchie smiled, a big, real, genuine smile for the first time that day, and leaned in to kiss Jack again.

And when Jack finally made it back to the palace, hours and hours after he left, the cooks admonishing him for taking so long they’d had to cover for him, it was with four long stemmed red roses in his hand to hang in his closet, and flowers in his hair, and grass stuck to his back. It was with kissed red lips and a smile on his face, and a promise of so much more to come.

And when Jack had finally pulled Crutchie up through the kitchens and bluntly informed his parents that he was seeing Crutchie whether they liked it or not, he spent the day showing Crutchie how he really lived, the secret hiding places and places to cause mischief, the ways he’s pulled pranks.

And when his father finally accepted that Crutchie wasn’t going anywhere, and his mother finally gave his blessing, when Jack finally stood in front of the rich people on one side and the flower boys and girls and workers on the other, it was with a crown woven of fresh flowers tucked into his hair and laughter in his voice. 

When Prince Jack was finally able to be the same person as just plain Jack, Jack was finally happy. Really truly happy. Not just content, but happy.

[timetoboldlygo]

over the glowing hill, i will conquer

bodhicassian week day 5!!!! rushed again, but oh well!!! this made me want to write something where bodhi is actually a prince. you can also read on ao3 here.

They hadn’t even known about the ball. Cassian had only come to this planet only to curate a new contact, a Jedhan man, and Bodhi was only there because Cassian didn’t take risks if he didn’t have to and because Cassian liked to have Bodhi with him. And it worked, of course, Bodhi and the man started chatting in Jedhan like a dream, the man was looking much more comfortable, and he also gave Bodhi an old Jedhan recipe.

“What did he say?” Cassian said, as the man moved on. Another successful component to his vast web of resources.

“He said there’s an Imperial ball here tonight,” Bodhi said absently.

A ball. Where nobles and royals and officers would all mingle. Cassian has been all of those things before, could likely convincingly do it again. “Think of the intel,” he said beseechingly, and Bodhi sighed.  

“Nothing I say is going to stop you from going, is it,” Bodhi said, already resigned. “Come on, then. We better get you some nice clothes.”

Steal them, more like.

Cassian could tell from the tense set of Bodhi’s shoulders that he didn’t like it. He didn’t say anything about it, but he didn’t like it. But he never would have said anything about it, either. He would let Cassian do this.

“Blue?” Bodhi asked, smoothing his hand down a long blue robe. It would have been so easy to pretend that they were out shopping for groceries or something happy “It’s your color.”

“Prince De-par?” Someone called. They both ignored it, until the man who said it was right upon them. “Prince De-par?”

Bodhi jerked his head up. “Yes?” He said, clearly confused.

“I thought that was you!” the man said, bowing deep to Bodhi. “I was lead to believe that you were unwell.”

He thought Bodhi was the prince? This was better than Cassian could have hoped for. It would be much easier than slipping in the back and pretending like he had money and no morals, hoping that no one would notice him.

“Oh,” Bodhi said. “Yes, well, I wasn’t going to let a cold keep me in bed. I’ve never had a chance to explore the city.”

“Surely you aren’t here alone?” the man asked. “Would your mother really be happy with her only son roaming about the city like a common thug?”

“My bodyguard is with me.”

Cassian’s cue. He took a quiet step forward, to stand just behind Bodhi’s shoulder.

“He’s handsome, isn’t he,” the man said, giving Cassian a swarmy grin.

“Thank you, but he’s mine,” Bodhi said icily. So icily that the man took a step back, stuttering.

“Then - then I expect we’ll see you at the gala tonight?”

“It seems very likely,” Bodhi said.

“Excellent! I look forward to it!” and then the man was going.

“You did amazing,” Cassian said, watching the man disappeared into the crowd. By the time the man was gone, Bodhi’s fingers had found his and held tight. They were shaking. But no one would have seen that a few minutes ago, when he’d very convincingly been pretending to be a prince.

Bodhi blinked. “I think this is very unfair,” he told Cassian, voice shaking just like his hands were. “Why couldn’t you look like some stupid prince?”

“We don’t have to,” Cassian said immediately, turning to look at Bodhi.

He could tell just how much Bodhi wanted to take the offer, to pretend that he had never been mistaken for Prince De-par, to fly away back to the rebellion and spend the night wrapped in Cassian’s arms, instead of going to this ball. “It means a lot to me that you’d say that.”

“Bodhi, we don’t have to go,” Cassian said again. It was very important to him that Bodhi know that they didn’t have to.

“It’s okay,” Bodhi said. He leaned his forehead against Cassian’s. “We’re okay.”

-

He looked every inch the rich spoiled prince once Cassian had carefully helped him dress in the rich, blue robes that a prince might actually wear. “Do you really think I can pull this off?” Bodhi asked quietly, adjusting the golden circlet on his head with fingers that dripping with golden rings. Fake, of course, but who would be able to tell.

“Yes,” Cassian said, although it really depended on how well Bodhi could bluff. He’d seen Bodhi bluff at sabacc before and it was impressive, but those stakes were much less high. “You very much look the part.”

“Thanks,” Bodhi mumbled.

In the privacy of the doorway, where no one could see them, Cassian pressed close and kissed him, tangling his hands in the deep blue of Bodhi’s cloak. Bodhi had never done this before. Bodhi had agreed to it so easily, but he was so scared. Cassian could feel his hands trembling.

“I’ll be right there,” Cassian promised. “I will be there with you. Every step.”

“I know,” Bodhi said, He took a deep breath in, reached up and smoothed his hair, smoothed his cloak. Arranged his face to look like he cared about absolutely nothing. Then he stepped out into the street, towards the ball. Cassian followed suit, smoothing down his basic bodyguard blacks.

He followed exactly half a pace behind Bodhi. This was very far from the first time he'd ever gone undercover but it was the first time he'd gone undercover and not been in the lead. He was usually an Imperial officer, with K as his security droid, though he'd been Imperial maintenance workers and bartenders and really, anything else he had to be. But even then, he controlled his own mission.

But this time he would have to follow Bodhi's lead.

Bodhi seemed to be thinking the same thing of course. It took him several steps to gain confidence, but at least he didn't turn around and look at Cassian, which was exactly what a royal prince wouldn't do. No, instead he walked – glided, really, once he had his footing – up to the officer at the door, dressed I Imperial gray. “Prince De-par,” he said smoothly. “Of Esca.”

“Welcome, Your Highness,” the man said, giving him a slimy grin. “May I see your invitation?”

Cassian didn’t react to this outwardly, though inwardly he was cursing himself for being so stupid as to not think about an invitation. As he was behind Bodhi, he couldn’t see what might have crossed Bodhi’s face, only had his words to go on. “You think I need an invitation? Is my name not enough?”

“I’m so sorry, sir,” the man said meekly. “It’s protocol.”

“For the lesser,” Bodhi sneered, drawing him shoulders back. He reached out a gold-laden hand and placed it on the man’s shoulder.  “You will let me in.”

Again, Cassian was behind Bodhi, but he could feel the palpable shift in the air. The guard straightened up, a weird look on his face. Energy seemed to be practically radiating from Bodhi. “I will let you in,” the man said, sounding a little strangled. But he stood aside.

“Thank you,” Bodhi said smoothly, like he’d never been angry. It was impossibly believable, Cassian could just see Bodhi standing there, being outrageous and then pretending it had never happened. And then Bodhi was moving inside. Cassian one step behind him.

Inside the hallway, it was dark and beautiful. If Cassian were a different sort of man, he might appreciate the marble or the murals or anything, but he wasn’t a different sort of man. He was only looking at Bodhi.

“I don’t think he really believed me,” Bodhi whispered.

Cassian reached forward in the privacy of the hallway and put both hands on Bodhi’s face. “Are you okay?” He said, but he meant something different know. Things had changed, they both knew it. Not for the worst, really, but Bodhi looked a little ill.

“Yeah,” Bodhi said unconvincingly. Not that Cassian would have believed him either way, because who could be after influencing someone like that, something that was undoubtedly the force. Cassian didn’t know the Force like Bodhi must, growing up in Jedha. “I’m fine.”

“Okay,” Cassian said, because he had to trust Bodhi. He dropped his hands. Resumed position.

-

Bodhi had always been good at bluffing, Cassian knew this. Knew it was probably the only way that Bodhi had survived in the Empire. He’d have been good even without the Force. But he was amazing, here. Head held high, mingling with the best of them. Making plans to summer at the ambassador’s house or another prince’s winter palace or what have you.

He wasn’t the only bodyguard there, of course. Most of them hovered on the edges of the  crowd, so Cassian did the same, moving around the perimeter as Bodhi did. Maybe he could get the information he needed here.

“Which is yours?” One of the other bodyguards asked. She had unnaturally blue eyes and red hair slicked back.

“Prince De-par of Esca,” Cassian said, nodding. “And you?”

“The madame of West Tarruh,” she said formally. West Tarruh was a small midrim planet, but very conveniently located for Imperial forces. Bodhi was chatting with the madame now.

“You aren’t supposed to be in love with him, you know,” the redhead said, following Cassian’s gaze. Cassian clenched his jaw; he’d clearly been slipping if this woman could see everything written on his face. That he was in love with Bodhi.

“I’ll thank you to mind your own business,” Cassian said calmly, taking a step away. She looked sad. He could see the way she looked at her own charge. She was unlucky. The Madame would probably never love her the way that Bodhi loved Cassian. Bodhi would shake off the prince persona and go right back to loving Cassian.

Eventually, Bodhi caught Cassian’s eyes, a subtle question. Ready? Cassian made polite apologies to the man he was talking to and stepped close to Bodhi, who was making those same apologies to men who were much more richly dressed.

“Was it worth it?” Bodhi asked, once they were out of the room, out of the range of Imperial ears, out into the city. He pulled the golden circlet off his head, let his hair tumble down. He looked free, now, and Cassian couldn’t help but pull him close and kiss him.

“One of the bodyguards told me I shouldn’t have fallen in love with you,” Cassian said, instead of a real answer. “You were very convincing, though.”

“Oh, I should pretend to be a prince more often?” Bodhi asked.

“No,” Cassian said, kissing him again. “I like you better like this.”

[thegeminisage]

hella spoilery zeldablogging from earlier tonight

feel kind of bad cause i had to look up the gerudo maze desert thing but i was SOOO close on my own

oh my god there's a lady over here by this shrine failing at cooking and all the recipes she teaches me give me dubious food

there are PILES of rotting garbage that have flies around them and the thing in the pot is sending up this black cloud of smoke lmao

wow the blood moon came in the middle of me clearing out an enemy camp :/

good god there's a stable out here in all this deep snow? how?? would the horses not, like, die?

aww beedle's here but he's cold ):

WOW you can upgrade the boy gerudo clothes but not the GIRL ones? that is SEXIST

oh noooo shield surfing DOES damage your shield i hate this i love my current shield what if i can't find another!!!!!

lol the ridge tower si surrounded by water and electric enemies. Great

omg i found the royal lab ruins ):

ok, i gotta begin prioritizing here

while i'd LIKE to complete all 120 shrines before i beat the game just for the armor, i don't think that's going to be possible - i haven't even unlocked some of them yet bc i don't have the snowballs or the quest takes so long

but the most important thing to me is memories

so after i check out all the ridge shrines on this map i'm gonna get the hyrule field map as well and get those memories

and i'll just save a lot and if i fuck something up and trigger endgame stuff i'll reload

god idk how to do this trial on the thunderplanes so like...im gonna let it be

see? i could never do all 120 before tmrw night

PLEASE this memory i just got was so cute zelda was being a nerd over plants and caught a frog she wanted link to eat :')

i love this zelda like i'm super not crazy about her voice actress sounding much older than i think of her as, and the fantasy british accent, but she has so much more personality than many of the others

ah, and i see now why she loved the silent proncess so...can't be grown domestically, only thrives in the wild

much like herself if you watch some of the other memories haha she feels trapped by her own destiny that's easy to see

i think it's super clever how even with a map you still have to look around for shrines bc they are hidden semi-underground

and i wish i had more time to stop and enjoy the little things like that, but i CAN come back and explore later, i can't unlearn a plot point

this spoiler fear might be a little baseless...tbh i also want to finish the main story tho bc like

i want it to be something i play in my free time, not something i obsess over 24/7 and HAVE to play and think about all the time

it's been a beautiful fun and absolutely life-changing experience but also it's been two weeks and i gotta get back to my actual life, i can't be Like This indefinitely

i'm kinda stunned that it took me this ling tbh? like, even skyyward sword was like a week and a half the first time iirc and i did that at like, a pace where i could stop and explore, i remember thinking how huge skyward sword was

omg im so glad i decided to ride epona down to where i need to go next rather than fast travel + walk bc 1. faster maybe? and 2. THE MAIN THEME PLAYS WHEN YOU'RE ON EPONA OVER THE NORMAL HORSE THEME i could weep

KASS IS BY THIS BRIDGE HI BUDDY I LOVE YOU

i solved the puzzle! this time im talking to him BEFORE i go in

he told me it was stupendous ;_; thanks pal

aw dude another memeory and it played the trailer music but

is zelda really only SIXTEEN about to turn seventeen? how old is link?? i guess under 21/18 if they wouldn't let him drink...

jesus, they're just babies ;_;

also, she quoted link's horse advice so like

this + the dialogue options gives the feeling that he does actually speak, you know? so as much as i love mute link i also like these glimpses into his personality as well, bc he's always been such a blank slate

he's empathetic, playful, sometimes downright goofy, and very tenacious - confident, but not in a cocky way, and obviously always a bit shaken when he gets a memory back

it's nice getting to know him a bit, even if you have to patch most of it together - kinda like narrachara lol

;w; it's so nice to have epona gallop over when i call her again

omg i think i found kass's house! i see his journal :3

haha i got this song "when the blood moon rises stand naked on that platform" ok nintendo

i wonder if you get all the puzzles do you get to tell him who you are ):

im tempted to unlock this one now lol

like, it takes a long time to get here and it's almost the blood moon

SIGH this is gonna take awhile but it'll save me time later

oh lmao it was JUST the blood moon so i'd actually have to wait a SUPER long time nvm tbh

well. welp. welly well well

i guess.......its time for hyrule field tower

Im Scared

wow. holy shit. i can see the great plateau from here...and it looks so small. i can see the temple of time, i can see the tower from which i first saw hyrule castle. i can even see the little path i nearly followed, when catching sight of my first moblin and becoming curious, before i got myself back on track. damn. Damn. i have come FULL CIRCLE, holy shit

and like, it's just the way i played it. hyrule castle for last. but you know? i love that shit. journeys ending the way they began. gets me in the feels every time

i'll be honest, THIS i could really stop and explore. forget those awful snowy mountains. this is where the #history is

oh god. i see a guardian down near that tower. please god don't let it be a mobile one

FUCK

i saw two still ones and relaxed and a mobile one snuck up RIGHT FUCKING BEHIND ME

[wheezing]

i don't wanna stop and grind but i worry i might HAVE to get some guardian armor before i can do this, even just one piece...!

i have a diamond circlet so all i'd need from the prof is the chest and/or legs........oh god. jesus fuck

motherFUCKER the range on those still ones, i wish i had been able to take them out...!

oh jesus i made it

this is it. final tower. thank fuck

there'll be more guardians, way more. i gotta at least check and see if i can afford some arrows without setting myself back further for the armor

i think i had all the mats i needed actually i just needed cash...maybe i can cook to earn some since i sold my monster parts

k, i only have enough gears for the chest OR legs, and i don't have enough rupees for either... :/

i COULD buy some arrows and still have enough mats for the armor but then i'd be setting myself back HUGELY re: rupees

ok, i FINALLY got the chest, jesus, now i can go back to hyrule field

altho it doesnt have any def and without even going to the fountain i know i cant upgrade it so rly is it worth it at all, but w/e

also, i read online that if you can learn the timing of parrying their lasers they go down REALLY easily but i suck so much at combat

i guess i'll just wear my anti-guardian stuff, i have daruk and mipha's abilities and fairies AND FAST TRAVEL if anything goes wrong

YES i did it holy FUCK

oh my god! three-shotted!

oh

i just climbed a small hill and got my first look at the rolling green plains...i missed you

no, no, i gotta go get epona to make this perfect, there's a stable i can warp us both to

omg it's the very first people i ever encountered outside the great plateau again

NOOO i hit epona when i was aiming for a monster baby i'm sorry!!!

i gave her an apple and some pats to say sorry ;w;

"legend says that an ancient voice resonates inside that sword...can you hear it yet, hero?"

frankly i'm glad they finally got their timeline shit together bc even tho the games are SO far apart im LOVING these continuity nods

yeesh, only two memories left but they're both RIGHT at the castle...im scared LOL

): i wouldn't feel right taking epona any further

reasons i never have money: cannot physically stop myself from buying arrows

oh, hyrule field is just beautiful ;___;

ohh god im scared

its fine its fine they wouldnt put a memory that close to the castle and then make you go back to impa if hat wasnt POSSIBLE its gonna be ok

awww no zelda sees link as a living reminder of her own failures?? whyyy

ha i love fighting guardians for the first time in ages im like COME TO ME LET US BATTLE

im uh. still working on the timing, but

oh JESUS

my mouth fell open in horror i climbed over a wall to get to the outsideish of the castle (castle town ruins, so says my map) and

the music was already creepy but jesus CHRIST

there's no color except for that blight evil goop stuff...no life...it's awful

poor hyrule, oh god

it's a lot like finding hyrule castle town devastated in oot when you first wake up, except of course this time we've nothing to compare it to visually, only emotionally...

i see a fuckton of guardians too so its a good thing i learned not to be scared of them

ok, god, i can do it, just one memory, i know RIGHT where it is

apparently the hylian shield is in here too and i am sooo sorely tempted

i mean if i have to get that fucking close anyway...

lord i googled it and apparently this memory is super hard to get you gotta Activate some shit but they did it this way they made it so you have to go back out i know i'll be able to come back out i WILL

ah, apparently you need to fight a stalnox for the hylian shield.ok. ok. good, great, Nice, Perfect

haha im soooo scared ;_;

ok, apparently the two paths are COMPLETELY different, so One Thing At A Time

we'll start with the memory, it's more important

tbh, i can't even bring myself to go in. i gotta go around anyway to get to the starting point of this path so i will

lmao i am almost PHYSICALLY ILL with dread this is SO stressful

JESUS

the music went all scary and the map is in 3D like a beast!! which i knew but it's so Much

and i got a cutscene of the calamity screaming with the Classic ganondorf theme i'm Dying how the fuck does anyone just get this memory and LEAVE holy shit

oh my god the main theme comes in!!! jesus

even ballad of the windfish a little?!?!

oh FUCK and ofc with the lightning

haha aww there's a "leave area" button on the map i can bail whenever i guess tat's reassuring

not yet!! i'm gonna have Courage

ohhh i dipped into a doorway just to wait for revali's thing to recharge and the music changed!! so i got scared and went back outside lol

oh god the higher you go the oranger the sky turns it looks like the blood moon jesus fuck

I MADE IT INSIDE

oh god, zelda's STUDY, the rooms all have names bc ofc they do

holder of the triforce of wisdom of COURSE she had a study she's such a nerd im crying i bet she loved it here and it's totally decimated

a silent princess sprouted in her study too ;_;

HER LULLABY IS PLAYING IN HERE IM GONNA CRY

oh good there's the memory!!

ohhh this picture of how it used to be is hurting my heart it was BEAUTIFUL

holy FUCK dude

ok old man is struck from my heart forever he was such a DICK to zelda no wonder he called himself a fool

link knelt right away but god damn i would have interjected on her behalf

you can't expect a person to pray 24/7!!!!

and deny her her passions, which are obviously machines and learning!

omg she has a journal in here and i almost missed it jesus

TODAY SHE MET WITH IMPA im cryin

omg this is her finding the sheikah slate!!!

jesus, and she found the shrine of ressurection too and hoped she'd never have to use it, and Yet...

oh GOD i hit leave area and it plucked me down in the middle of castle town nope nope nope fast travel outta there

ok to impa and then last memory i can do it and then do stream

and for once not play again afterwards bc to be quite frank i could never stress myself out this bad right before bed again, FUCK

hylian shield and all the rest of it tomorrow

h o ly fuck

he DIED protecting her, or he was going to, but she stood in front of him for once and finally unlocked the power, that's how she unlocked it, for HIM

i'm WEEPING and the sword made the fi noise from SS

even the sheikah warriors ran like sheik in smash bros

im gonna cry that was so much!!! there's so much continuity

fi is in TWO GAMES like...that was such direct referencing!!!!

SHE HAS BEEN FIGHTING ALONE FOR 100 YEARS jesus CHRIST she is SEVENTEEN

ok, im gonna watch all the memories in order and then quit for the night

i just realized the ceremony scene is where she mentions embers of twilight and adrift in time - putting us on the mm/tp timeline

aaaah im sad

god and i LOVE her princess dress i wanna see it in her classic pink why is everyone in this game blue??

so like, despite me not being crazy about zelda's voice ACTRESSS and the VOICE she's using, she actually does the best ACTING out of the entire cast

high key loving this zelda who is smart but has trouble with feelings, also

holy SHIT

ok so one of the first memories i got was of zelda coming down mt lanayru

amd it was badass and i enjoyed it

but there's SO much in there once you know more context

mipha was highkey about to spill to zelda that she was in love with link

revali's distain for link

urbosa seems less stern and more caring now that i know her better

now i know what zelda was trying so hard to do

"we have to keep trying until we find the thing that unlocks your sealing power [long shot of link]"

and "i'm not a child anymore" ofc it's bc she just turned 17! like link in oot!

oh man oh man

i love so much link's expressions in these serious moments especially that very last look into zelda's eyes before he "died"

it feels a bit like, with the other stuff i was talking about, i'm getting just a hint of character

and it's kinda close to My Headcanon but even if it wasn't i just like getting to know him

warped back to the temple of time & i'm leaving it there for the night

tomorrow: The End

(and my shield)

[tmariea]

Slow Breaths

Summary:  Sorey is a big ball of energy, especially so when new books are on the line. This doesn't mix so well when Mikleo would prefer a lazy day. But, he knows how to help Sorey wind down, and take the kind of deep, slow breaths that feel like he's breathing for the first time in days.

Also known as: 4k words of concerted effort to kill you with fluff.

Read on AO3

Mikleo loved Sorey a lot, there was no question about it.  Although, some days, Sorey seemed far too interested in testing his resolve.  When the pounding on his door started, accompanied by calls of “Mikleo, Mikleo, wake up!” the bit of light he could see under his curtain indicated it was just barely dawn.  No matter if he didn’t need to sleep, he enjoyed it.  Almost as much as he did not enjoy being woken up from it at these kinds of hours.  He groaned and rolled onto his stomach so he could bury his face in the pillow and drag the blanket tight across his back.  He knew that luck would not be with him – Sorey was relentless if he wanted him up – but the few more minutes might be worth it.

There came a point, as Mikleo knew it would, when Sorey gave up on knocking and decided to just come in.  He heard the door swing open, and then felt a body hit his bed, bouncing him slightly up off the mattress.

“Good morning,” Sorey said, laying down on the bed so part of his weight rested on Mikleo’s back.  Then he started nuzzling his nose into the nape of his neck.

Mikleo hummed softly, in reply.  Maybe this wasn’t too bad after all.

Then the weight and warmth was gone.  “Come on, it’s time to get up.  You’re wasting daylight staying in bed!”

He sighed.  “I was about to forgive you.”

“I’ll make it up later.  But aren’t you excited?”

It took a moment for Mikleo to remember.  While he thought, turned to face Sorey so he could look at his expression and search it for clues.  He looked bright and excited, which wasn’t much of a clue; that was a normal look.  It did click eventually though.  “Oh, right, didn’t Gramps say he would have two new books for us today if we did our chores well?”

“Yes!”

“Hmm, okay.  Why don’t you get a head start and I’ll join you in a little bit.”  His intentions were fully to go back to sleep for at least a few hours.

It seemed that Sorey could see through him, because he frowned, even as he did start to climb off of the bed.  “But what about breakfast?”

“Oh, okay, you’re not here for me.  You’re here for food.”

“Well, I can’t do good work on an empty stomach,” Sorey said, while striking a pose with his hands on his hips.  Then he conceded, “I’m always here for you, though,” and leaned down to kiss Mikleo’s forehead, right in the center where the jewel of his circlet would normally rest.

The two of them had always been affectionate, but these kinds of touches were still relatively new to their relationship, and Lords but it still made Mikleo melt just a bit.  He supposed that now he would have to make a big breakfast in return. “I’ll get started on something once I get dressed.  Now go on, shoo.”

For all of his complaints about not being able to work on an empty stomach, Sorey was already carting bedding out of his house by the time Mikleo brought him a plate of prickly boar bacon and potatoes with goat’s cheese.  He dumped his pile of sheets in a tub awaiting water before settling onto the steps of his house to eat.  “Thanks, Mikleo, this all looks great!  Are you going to eat too?”

Mikleo shook his head, and didn’t miss the way Sorey’s face fell just a bit.  “There’s not much left from the winter stores.  I’m fine with waiting until we harvest the first of the cold weather vegetables, and the goats start producing more milk for the new kids.”  As much as they enjoyed eating together, human needs were far more pressing when supplies weren’t abundant.  At any rate, it was one of the first warm days, although official start of spring had long come and passed, and he was more than happy to sit on the steps next to Sorey and bask in the sunlight.  Although…

“Hey!  I thought you said you were fine,” Sorey exclaimed as Mikleo swiped a strip of bacon.

“Well, I did say that, didn’t I.”

Sorey elbowed him in the ribs, just lightly enough to tickle and make him regret wearing his lighter tunic without the belts, before tucking in.  Mikleo made sure to keep a close eye on him; when he ate while excited, he tended to eat fast enough to make himself sick.  He did still finish in record time, and then dashed off to finish collecting clothes and bedding for the wash.

As a water seraph, the washing itself was Mikleo’s purview.  He found this amenable, as it meant he could spend a good portion of his morning swirling water and soap about in a tub, and separating out the dirt with artes while Sorey dashed about the hillside of Elysia.  That chore list included much less pleasant activities, like chopping firewood, and constructing an assembly for smoking the meat he would later have to hunt.  Sorey never seemed to mind though.  Not to mention, his method of doing, well, a lot of things, brought to mind words like ‘flitting,’ and ‘darting.’  Today, he had to add ‘frenetic’ to the list.

It was quite a reversal of roles.  For all that Mikleo was often the responsible one, while Sorey prone to distraction, he felt like doing nothing.  Perhaps it was the hour that he was woken up, or maybe that little taste of cuddling left him wanting more, or maybe watching Sorey hop about with such energy was just exhausting for everyone else.  He found himself swirling the wash water rather lazily while fantasizing about lying in the soft, new grass, and listening to the buzz of insects which were just starting to make themselves known again.

Part of him wondered if it was a seraph thing; he had heard some of the others, especially Old Man Taccio, talk about how it never got old to watch the seasons change and nature live out its cycles.  The other parts of him didn’t like dwelling on the things which might make him different from Sorey.  He tried not to think about the ways in which the rhythms of their lives were so inherently different, or that without the other boy to ground him, these past seventeen years might have felt like nothing more than the blink of an eye in his relative infancy.  As it was, he didn’t get time to contemplate such unpleasant words as ‘transient’ and ‘fragile’ for more than a moment, because then the object of his thoughts was bounding up the hill to with light in his eyes, leaves in his hair and words on his lips.

“Do those need to soak for a bit?”

“Umm, they can,” Mikleo replied shaking his head in an attempt to both rid it of his concerns, and his tiredness.

“Good!  I need some help bringing our mattresses outside to air.”

“Couldn’t you just ask Natalie or one of the other wind seraphim to air them for you?”

“That would be cheating.”

Cheating sounded just fine to him.  But Sorey, ever earnest, would never go for it.  He sighed, and flicked the water from his hands and sleeves, which dried instantly.  “Fine, I’ll help.”

“Alright!”

The two of them trailed into Sorey’s house, where Mikleo discovered, much to his relief, that for all of today’s energy and work ethic, Sorey could still fall prey to distraction.  That distraction being his seemingly insatiable need to tickle Mikleo.  As soon as they neared the bed, he wasted no time in tackling him to the mattress and attacking him with wiggling fingers.

“Sorey, what the hell?” Mikleo shrieked, as he did his best to wriggle and stretch out of reach.  “Stop that!”

He was doing a fairly good job of holding his own, too, until Sorey managed to sit on his stomach, and pin one hand over his head.  He still tried to fight back with his other hand, but it was a lost cause.

“No way, not when I’m winning.”  True to his word, Sorey didn’t let up until Mikleo was too winded from laughing to do much more than lie shaking on the bed.

“Jerk,” he finally managed to say between panting breaths.

Sorey, for his part, just looked down at him, all smiles and innocence and affection, with only a touch of pride.  Mikleo returned his look with a scowl.

“Are you awake now?  It looked like you were about to fall asleep into the wash water.”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Good.”  Sorey gave the hand he was holding a little squeeze, and then used it to haul both of them back up.  “Now, come on.  We still have work to do and books to win!”  That determined shine in his eyes was back, and Mikleo knew that he was gone again.  He would be likely focusing on nothing else but the tasks required to earn those books for the rest of the day.

Between the two of them, it wasn’t too hard to haul the mattress outside and prop it up against the wall to absorb the smell of the golden sunlight and the sweet breeze that blew up and over the top of the mountain, and then retrieve the other from Mikleo’s house.  At some point while they worked, Gramps had made his way out of his own house and settled on the front step.  They could see him smoking his pipe in the shadows cast by his front door.  He feigned an outward appearance of indifference to his charges as they went about their tasks, but they could feel his sharp eyes on them anyway.  If Mikleo had any hope before of sneaking off to doze in the new spring grass, there was no longer any chance of that.

Even without Gramps’ watchful gaze, he wouldn’t have been able to evade Sorey.  It seemed every time he finished a task – given his nature, mostly washing windows, floors, and even more clothing – Sorey was there asking him for help.  Mikleo, do you want to get the firewood for your house?  Mikleo, can you help me bring in the prickly boars I caught?  Mikleo, I need a hand carrying the mattresses back in.

They did take a break for lunch, which Mikleo avoided having to cook by bringing out some goat cheese and hard cured sausage.  That was a merciful few minutes to sit still at least, although the same could not be said for his fidgety companion.  Despite Sorey and his relentless energy, it still took until nearly sundown for them to finish their litany of chores.

As soon as Sorey finished storing away the meat he had cured and smoked, he was dashing back up the hill and grabbing Mikleo’s hand as he went.  The seraph resigned himself to being pulled along behind like a living kite.  The both of them arrived on Gramps’ doorstep, where he was still sitting with his pipe, slightly out of breath.

“We did… all of it,” Sorey panted, for once showing signs of exhaustion as he leaned forward and braced himself on his knees.  “Please, can we have the books now?”

“Yes, please,” Mikleo echoed.  “He’s driving me crazy.”

Gramps’ wizened face stayed stoic as usual, but there was a spark of mirth in the raise of his bushy eyebrows.  “You’ve done well,” he told his wards, and shifted so that they could see the two books on the step behind him.  One was bound in plain leather, adorned only by the raised lines of the binding strings along the spine.  The other had an additional strip of gilding at the top, just above an embossed title claiming that it was on the exploration of the Gaferis Ruins.  Mikleo often wondered where Gramps acquired such books for them, given the fact that the Seraphim in Elysia had no contact with the outside world.  Usually he just accepted that this would be a puzzle he wouldn’t solve.

Sorey did not seem to care for such observations or musings.  As soon as Gramps spoke, he lunged forward to grab the books, and then bowed slightly in apology for his rudeness when one grey eyebrow changed its slant.  “Thank you, Gramps!” he said when he straightened.  He had dignity enough to wait at least until they had turned away before he clutched the books to his chest and rocked back and forth, a dreamy look in his eyes.

“Careful, or the Celestial Record will get jealous that you’re cheating on it,” Mikleo remarked as they walked back down toward their homes.

Sorey just stuck his tongue out.  “It’s a book on ruins, Mikleo!  That means there are other people who have gone exploring and trying to piece together the past like we do.  Maybe there are others who believe in Seraphim, and who share our dream.”

“That would be wonderful,” he replied, the thought making him feel a little dreamy himself.  Maybe there would be a world where he and Sorey could live and explore as a seraph and a human together.

“Alright, I want to read these right away.”

“No way.  Dinner first.”

Sorey pouted, and Mikleo poked his cheek.  That cheek puffed out in defiance, but it was not long lived.  He deflated, literally, a moment later, and then followed Mikleo into his house.

Dinner was not a restful affair, despite the fact that Sorey had to be feeling at least some modicum of tiredness.  Mikleo had figured that this would be the case, and had made a simple meal; there was no point in wasting effort on fancy cooking when the food would be practically inhaled.  His predictions had been correct.  Sorey sat next to him by the hearth in his home, the two new, precious books just to the other side, and piled food into his mouth with all of the grace of a small child who had never been taught table manners.

“Ugh, slow down and don’t chew with your mouth open,” Mikleo chastised, as he leaned away.  Messes had never been his favorite thing.

Sorey, at least, had the courtesy to look apologetic, and take a moment to breathe between bites.  Although, that didn’t stop him from saying, with food still in his mouth, “Sorry, Mikleo.”

For his part, Mikleo just sighed, and stood up with the intention of starting to wash the dishes.  When Sorey got worked up like this, it wasn’t always easy to get him to calm down.

Once finished, Sorey leaned back on his arms and tilted his head over his shoulder to look at Mikleo.  Even in this posture, he seemed to strain with the need to fidget or more.  “Do you think you could read aloud to me?”

“Of course I can.”  He knew why.  They always read new books together for the first time, and it was apparent to the both of them that Sorey would just squirm and get on Mikleo’s nerves.  He banished the wash water, and any drops remaining on the dishes and his hands before putting them away.  Then he crossed to where Sorey had already picked up the book with the more intricate cover and was running his hand over the embossing.  “Just give me a moment to change.” He took the book from Sorey’s grasp, and then said with a smirk, “Do you think you can wait that long?”

Sorey replied with a long-suffering sigh, and a lackluster swat in Mikleo’s direction in retaliation for the smugness in his voice.  “Probably.”  Then he flopped back onto the wooden floor, where his fingers immediately began tapping with few signs of rhythm.

The tapping sounds followed Mikleo into his bedroom, where he shed his tunic and fitted pants for his looser night-wear.  He could feel Sorey’s eyes on his back, as he did, and it made him flush despite the fact that they had seen each other change many times before.  It was satisfying, though, to hear those taps stutter for just a moment before resuming.  When he turned back around, Sorey’s eyes were pointed toward the ceiling, and nothing in his demeanor suggested he had been staring.  Just for that, Mikleo made a small huffing noise to attract his companion’s attention, before treating him to teasing look.  He received an annoyed glance in return, which melted back into Sorey’s normal enthusiastic expression, mixed with a plea to start reading.

Feeling as if Sorey would burst if he didn’t comply with that silent request, Mikleo decided to indulge in just a bit more teasing.  Because, really, his bed was so comfortable.  It would be a shame to not take the time to adjust the pillow just right behind his back, and then express his enjoyment with contented hums and sighs.  It took maybe half a minute of this for Sorey to bolt up to sitting and flash him the same annoyed glance, kicked up a few notches.  Of course, at this point, Mikleo had the book open on his lap and was clearing his throat to read, the picture of compliance.

The finger tapping resumed no more than a few pages into the description of the entry hall of the Gaferis Ruins.  Mikleo lasted only a few more pages after that, before he sighed in exasperation, and said, “In case you weren’t aware, that is somewhat distracting.”

Sorey sighed too, and ruffled his hair aggressively.  He looked annoyed with himself at this point, and Mikleo had to wonder if the restlessness was starting to wear on him too.  “Sorry, I’ll try something else.”

That something else was pacing.  It was not restful, but once Sorey removed his boots, the shushing of his carefully quiet steps was easy enough to tune out.  They made it through several chapters of the book like this, with Mikleo’s voice filling the house with images of ancient burial rites and tombs.  For all Sorey’s motion, he was still an attentive listener.  He made wordless expressions of response at appropriate moments, and held a hand to his chin as he walked and contemplated the implications of the text.  For now, they did not debate – that would come on a second or third reading, after they had time to absorb the information and form hypotheses based on other books they owned.  It was probably for the best.  Mikleo didn’t think he would be able to keep up in a debate with how relaxed and drowsy he felt at the moment.

It was around the point that the untended fire had burnt down to glowing embers, turning Sorey to a ruddy silhouette against the faint light, that Mikleo’s ability to concentrate on the words of the book failed him.  He grabbed a strip of leather from the small table beside his bed and used it to mark their place before setting the book aside.  Sorey must have been lost in thought of some theory or another, because it took him a moment to realize that Mikleo had stopped reading and turn to look at him.

“Bed time,” Mikleo informed with a lazy smile.  “Come here.”

“I should go home, if you’re planning to sleep.  I’m not particularly tired,” Sorey protested, but it was a weak protest.  He was already moving down the steps into the lowered bedroom.

“If you go home, you’re just going to stay up all night researching whatever you were thinking about just now.  Consider this supervision.”

As soon as Sorey sat down on the edge of the bed, Mikleo scooted forward so that he could wrap his arms around him from behind.  He pressed his nose into the fine hairs at the base of Sorey’s neck, smelling smoke from his earlier work, and just a trace of sweat.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to help you relax.  Now, shush.”  As he spoke his hands worked at the buttons and loops on the front of Sorey’s shirt, fingers deft for all that he couldn’t see what he was doing.  He pulled it away from his shoulders, and thankfully the majority of the smoky scent went with the shirt.  Only the faintest trace clung to his skin.

Once the shirt was draped over the end of the bed, Mikleo moved even closer, so that his chest was pressed to Sorey’s back, and his chin resting on his shoulder.  He covered the backs of Sorey’s hands with his own, and then laced their fingers together.  “Breathe with me, okay?”  He took long, slow breaths, the kind that made the weight of long days like the one they’d had melt away, and made sure that Sorey could feel the rise and fall of them in his chest.

It took a moment, but their breathing fell into sync.  One it did, he reached up to unfasten Sorey’s feather earrings, a bedtime ritual which they had practiced for years.  Sorey turned his head to the side so he could rub his cheek against Mikleo’s hair, and let out a massive yawn.  “I think I’m good,” he said, and disentangled one hand so that he could rub at the back of his head, sheepish.

Mikleo had to smile he moved away so that he could put out the lantern, and set aside both the earrings and his circlet.  He moved to push back the covers and climb in, but as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could see that there were still some traces of tension in Sorey’s movements as he followed.  He sighed.  It couldn’t have been that easy, of course.  He propped himself back against the wall, and beckoned for Sorey to lay against him, with his head on his chest.  “Once more then,” he said.  “Close your eyes.”

Sorey complied and let his lids slide closed.  Once they were, Mikleo started with Sorey’s neck, rubbing slow circles into it with his thumbs, and earning a contented murmur in return.  Next, he smoothed his hands across Sorey’s shoulders and down his arms, first with nothing more than the pressure of his fingers, and then with the lightest touch of healing.  Not too much, just enough to take the edge off the soreness and stiffness that would surely work its way in by the next day.  They had learned the hard way that it was best not to heal the muscles fully, when Sorey had spent weeks wondering why he didn’t seem to get any stronger despite all of the manual work and time he spent practicing with his ceremonial sword.  Looking back, the situation had been funny, but it was best not repeated.

Under his ministrations, Mikleo could feel the last of the dredges of tension and restless energy melting away.  He let his hands come to rest on Sorey’s stomach, one folded over the other, and felt the slow way it rose and fell as together their breathing lapsed into a more sedate pattern again.  “Better?” he asked.

Instead of immediately replying, Sorey shifted languidly to the side, and tilted his head so he could place a kiss on Mikleo’s jaw.  Due to the angle and the difficulty of seeing in the dark, the best he could manage was to reach a spot just off of Mikleo’s chin, but it was an endearing action none the less.  “Much better, thank you.  You always know just what I need.”

“Well of course I do.”  Mikeo tried to keep the smugness out of his voice, but he didn’t try that hard.  As he spoke, he let one hand drift up to wind its way into Sorey’s hair and cradle the back of his head.  His fingers pressed small, gentle lines against Sorey’s scalp, a tried and true method to encourage him to sleep.  He received a drowsy noise in response.

“I love you, my Luzrov Rulay.”

Mikleo’s face still tinged with the lightest pink at hearing his true name said in such a slow, intimate voice, but he was too relaxed at the moment to kick up a fuss like he sometimes did.  Instead, he leaned down to drop his own kiss onto the crown of Sorey’s head, and said, “I love you, too,” before he began to ease them down to the bed.  By the time he shifted them so their heads rested together on the single pillow and the blankets wrapped around them securely, Sorey’s eyes had fallen mostly closed again.  Only a sliver of green remained.  His mouth parted in another wide yawn, and Mikleo had to suppress a laugh.

“You’re not tired at all, right?”

“Well, maybe just a little.”  His voice was quiet and fading fast.

Mikleo debated, and decided that pointing out that he was always correct wasn’t worth it when Sorey likely wouldn’t remember much of this exchange come morning.  Instead, he opted to lean forward and press their foreheads together for a moment before sneaking a quick kiss.  Then he turned over and shifted until his back was pressed against Sorey’s warm chest.  An arm came up to settle around his waist, indicating that the boy behind him had at least a bit of awareness left.

“Tomorrow, we’re sleeping in.”

“Okay,” Sorey breathed out, and with it the last of his consciousness.

Mikleo smiled at the sensation of the even breaths against his neck, and the tiny snore that accompanied.  Mission accomplished, he let his own eyes close, and drifted away.

Thank you for taking the time to read!  If you enjoyed this story, be sure to check out the rest of the blog for similar content!