#*holds slay the princess in my hands* my beloved

[princess-self-shipping]

Imitating a sketchy lineart style digitally for an art fight attack

My arm hurty ;w;

[genacity]

DAY TWO. PRINCESS TREATMENT

ft. rengoku kyojurou — kimetsu no yaiba (鬼滅の刃)

when a clueless hashira wanders into your layer of operations, you can’t help but put up a fight— and admire his fat tits through the inconvenient tear in his uniform you inflict.

ruling. nsfw — mature content

content warnings. demon! reader, masochist? rengoku, feminization, body worship, praise, nipple play, impact play, reader refers to rengoku using feminine nicknames / anatomy (girl, princess, pussy, tits)

an. meow i was so excited to write for rengoku. i love beefy men being treated like bimbos! woohooo!

kinktober 2023 masterlist

“slow down, pretty girl. stop squirming so much.”

“mm— haah! please stop teasing me!”

the man in your lap writhed at your touch. careful hands gliding down his chest, drawing circles around his nipples as he thrashed between your legs.

how’d you even get here? you don’t remember. well, you do. but you aren’t focused on remembering. not when the flame hashira is at your disposal. burning, sticky skin and sweet-sounding whimpers from his lips a stunning combination of reactions to your touch.

you’re a demon under kibutsuji. one of the latest recruits to the twelve kizuki. being an upper rank is tiring. always lounging about in the manor you’ve made for yourself, waiting to get this damned job over with and kill those little brats they called the demon corps.

but this one… this one may be spared.

rengoku kyojurou, that’s what his name is — the thundering flame hashira that it seems the whole of japan has been talking about.

and he’s wandered straight into your lair, ready to slay you.

yes, that’s what he had planned — until while during your fight, your claws tore a less than convenient rip in his uniform. straight through the chest to reveal the space between his muscular pecs that you just had to stop and stare at.

and now you’re here. the hashira sat between your legs as you toyed with his chest and body.

hey, you couldn’t help it; not when his tits — pecs — were practically begging to be touched and fucked. and he was, too. not like he denied it at all. you may be a demon, but that definitely did not take away from your temptation. and looks.

“relax, baby. you’re stressing too much.” you cooed to the whining rengoku as you pinched his nipple between your fingers. he jolted, shaking his head as your free hand held his hands behind his back.

you sighed and looked at his swollen nipple between your pointer and thumb fingers. “look at you,” you feigned a pout. “your tits are all red. is that what you wanted, flame hashira? to make your big tits all red and sore?”

“they are not — tits.” rengoku whimpered, his voice lowering to almost a whisper at his last word. “what was that?” you asked into his ear, pulling at his sore nipple and letting it go, watching it bounce back as he let out a long wail.

rengoku’s hips bucked up as you fondled his pecs, tracing round his right bud with your sharp, manicured claws. “i — i can’t believe you’re doing this to me,” he whined. “a demon using and teasing my body.”

“oh, how shameful.” you chuckled and flicked his sore nipple, making him jump. you switched hands to hold his wrists, off to pay more attention to his neglected side as you immediately began to knead his left breast. “a demon having their way with you. how will you explain to your beloved corp that you’ve come back sore with no victory?”

rengoku went silent. pressing his raw lips together to muffle his grunts and whines. dissatisfied by his lack of response, you pinched his left nipple and leaned in to whisper into his neck. “answer me, flame hashira.”

his lips parted to speak, but all that came out was a shaky breath from the tip of his tongue. you began to grow increasingly agitated by his silence, and so you took it upon yourself to force the answer from him.

you rose your hand and brought it down onto his chest with some force. the hashira flinched in your hold; whining out as the sting along his chest and sore nipple left him squirming. “are you going to answer me?” you snarled just beneath his ear, breathing against rengoku’s neck and making him shiver.

“i — i don’t know.” he stammered and swallowed harshly. you laughed at his response and shook your head. “aw. pretty girl can’t think. i can’t imagine what your co-workers will think of you when you return.”

rengoku couldn’t imagine it either. he was afraid, honestly; unknowing of what his fellow hashira will think of him if he admitted to returning to them with no victory, all for a few moments of pleasure. but at that point, he didn’t care. it felt too good to give up. never had he felt this way before.

all of his thoughts immediately dissipated once he felt your cold hands pinch at his hot nipples once more. rengoku yelped, not noticing you had let his wrists go and was now using both of your hands to knead his chest.

“ah! please…” he sniffled, watching your hands press his chest muscles together and trace his burning buds with your freezing fingertips “your hands… they’re so cold.”

kyojurou felt his cock strain against his pants. the sight of you toying with his pecs made his mind go numb. at that point, he was melting into you. nodding mindlessly whenever you commented something about his fat tits or his hard nipples. the way he reacted to you was addictive.

a few more times did you strike rengoku’s chest; making him wail and writhe more in your arms. whenever he seemed too lost in watching you press his breasts together while you were asking a question would you remind him with a sharp smack straight onto his flaming nipple. then he would recoil and slowly answer your question — too invested on how red and sore his chest was growing. but he loved the burning feeling.

“can’t imagine how wet you must be for me, flame hashira.” you purred. “your pussy is probably drenched. it must be, considering how you’re reacting to just me touching your boobs.” and you laughed, lips twitching up into a grin.

“d-don’t — haah… don’t say those things.” rengoku whimpered, squirming in your hold as one of your hands massaged his right breast while the other began to trail down his body. fingers ghosting over the evident bulge in his pants as he panted and gasped for air. the hashira felt his cock twitch pathetically in his pants as you laughed.

your sly smile grew with each mewl rengoku let slip. “aw, is my girl embarrassed. don’t wanna admit how wet ‘n excited i got you, princess?” you purred into the shell of his ear as he trembled. “i’m not… wet.” he grumbled, and you just had to laugh again.

“show me then.” you insisted. your hands trailed down to his belt as your fingers slowly began to undo it. “show me you’re not leaking from my touch.” the flame hashira swallowed thickly as you leaned in to murmur to him.

“don’t be shy, princess. show me all of you.”

[o-wyrmlight]

It's legitimately amazing.

btw if you havent read the slay the princess/disco elysium crossover fic yet i am stabbing you with a knife stab stab stab right in the heart its really good go read it

[dark-and-kawaii]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ Tainted Dreams ˖⟡˚౨ৎ⋆

✧₊⁺ Summary: As Zevlor sleeps, a dark shadow named Aradin creeps into his dreams, twisting his peaceful rest into a horrific nightmare. Zevlor dreams about Aradin taking away everything that he’s come to love… ♡

✧₊⁺ Pairing: Zevlor x F!Tav/Lofn

✧₊⁺ Content: Angst | Hurt/Comfort | Nightmare | Character Death | Jealous Aradin | Happy Ending | Sleep Cuddles

✧₊⁺ Notes: Another story I hope you all enjoy xoxo I’ve been wanting to write some angst involving Aradin so here it is!!! Heh heh to be honest I’m a sucker for a story involving some Aradin angst ♡

In the quiet embrace of night, Zevlor lay entwined with his beloved, Lofn, his arms holding her ever so close to him- always acting as a safe haven for her as she slept. Her body a comforting weight against his chest as he too slowly slipped into slumber. When she stirred gently against him in her sleep, her head nuzzling at his neck, his tail gently coiled around her thigh as he returned the gesture, their bodies blending as one.

As the night wore on, their bodies pressed close, their breathing synchronized in that gentle rhythm that lovers fall into with the passage of time, their hearts beat a gentle, steady rhythm of love, contentment, and peace... Until it was shattered by a shadow creeping into Zevlor's dreams, twisting his peaceful rest into a vivid nightmare. His body tensed, clutching Lofn tighter, his tail pulling up into the air, as if in warning. The darkness seeping into his dreams, like the blood of a wound left untended.

His mind's eyes filled with visions of betrayal- a group of men turning against their cherished princess, all because of her love for him, a so called foulblood, a hellspawn who was meant to rot- to die at birth for being what he was... The men who had once looked at him with respect, now looked at him with loathing... The nightmare deepened, his body trembling with each haunting image, a cold sweat breaking out over his body.

Zevlor saw the men first slay her dragons, Aetherion the first to be overwhelmed and slaughtered. His great form lying still in the dirt, his blood soaking the ground... Vyrmoth, the younger of the two tried to take flight only to be brought down and stabbed again and again, until his cries were silenced...  Then they set their sights on her... Lofn, bound by chains that kept her powers in check and helpless, her face, tear streaked and pale from the pain of her dragon's deaths- feeling everything that they had felt... 

One of the men laughed, his hand gripping her face harshly as he leaned down and spoke to her, “The lot of us could have given you the world, but you choose this abomination instead.” 

Forced to her knees, Lofn was made to suffer before Zevlor. He watched helplessly as the man pulled out his blade and slashed at her back, yet she did not cry out, she would not give them the satisfaction... Zevlor's eyes trailed down to her stomach, the faint swell of her pregnancy barely visible under her torn dress... His eyes filled with tears as he realized just what they were going to do, to the unborn children she carried... His child... Their child.

“Please don't,” Zevlor pleaded, his voice broken, “I beg of you. She is still the woman you all admir-”

A famiilar voice- a familiar smug tone cut him off, “Beggin, like the foulblood you are.” Aradin stepped forward, his hands grasping Lofn's head and forcing her to look up at him, “This foul blood has poisoned her, tainted her with his vile touch.” he looked at the men around him, “I aint going to allow it no more.”

Zevlor's brow furrowed his eyes hardening as he stared at Aradin, “You bastard! What has she ever done to you? To deserve this? She saved you! Your people!” He tried to fight the men holding him back, but failed, “I should have done you in the moment my fist connected with your jaw back in the grove…” the hatred and loathing clear in his voice.

Aradin sneered, “I shoulda done her when I had the chance, before you poisoned her.”

Lofn struggled weakly against Aradin's grasp, her voice low, “You were nothing, Aradin, nothing. Just some lowly adventure looking for his fortune.” She spit in his face, “A pathetic boy- not even worthy of calling you a man” her words dripping with venom.

“Shut it wench,” her head was yanked back, then forced forward to look Zevlor in the eye's. Aradin's blade traced a cruel path across Lofn's chest, his gaze locked with Zevlor's then the group of men circling around, “I witnessed it myself, how this devil stained your princess.” 

Lofn's eyes, brimming with pain and unshed tears, never wavered from Zevlor's face. Her sorrow was not for herself or her unborn child, but for him... Knowing the torment he was enduring- the pain he would never cease to forget... 

Zevlor whispered a plea, “Aradin, I beg you. Please. She has done nothing, take me- Like I know you've always wanted to- Rip my horns off, let my foul blood stain your boots- but please... Not her-”

Before his mind could register what was happening, Aradin's blade pierced Lofn's belly, “I should have gutted you and this tiefling back in the grove.”

A yell tore from Zevlor's throat as Aradin's blade descended upon Lofn again... She lay lifeless before him, her eyes wide and empty, her blood pooling towards him…

With a jolt, Zevlor awoke, his heart pounding like a caged bird desperate to escape. Zevlor's heart still raced as his hand came up to Lofn's cheek, her serene face turned towards his, a soft smile on her lips as she slept. He was grateful that she hadn't woken to his distress- grateful that she was still at his side and very much alive... “Thank the gods…” He gently ran his thumb across her bottom lip, his own curving up at the corner as her lips parted and she sighed softly in her sleep. He reached out, gently tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear, reassured by her peaceful breathing. Taking a deep breath, he slipped quietly from the bed, careful not to disturb her rest.

Crossing the room, he approached the crib where his newborn daughters lay nestled in soft blankets. Two small newly hatched dragons perched nearby, their eyes watching over their girls vigilantly. Zevlor smiled at the creatures, reaching out to rub one of their necks affectionately with the back of his fingers, “Quite the nightmare I had,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, “But I know you'll keep them safe.”

As he gazed down at his sleeping daughters, a tender ache filled his heart. They were so small, so innocent, and the thought of Aradin lingered like a poison in the back of his mind. Zevlor shook his head, his jaw clenched tight. It would never come to pass- could never. Aradin would have to kill him first, and Lofn's dragon's, well... Zevlor knew the nightmare lied about how easily they would go down- even Lofn, no such chains could ever stop her from unleashing her wrath… Not to mention their son, now more grown than ever, had his own dragon and was quite good at wielding a sword and magic... And Lynnania, the Queen… Zevlor’s tail twitched, giving away his fear at the thought of what she would do… 

But still, Aradin's eyes always lingered on Lofn since their days at the grove... And now the piece of trash was in Thay for whatever reason... Now, with a life built on love and family, Zevlor couldn't shake the fear that his nightmare might one day creep into reality no matter how hard he tries to find it foolish…

He sighed, brushing his hands against both his daughter's tiny fists, “I won't let anything happen to you, or your brother.” He whispered, his voice a low rumble, “I promise. I'll protect you all.”

Sitting on a lush chair, Zevlor stayed at their crib for some time, watching them and their mother as they all slept, making sure that there was no shadowy figure lurking in the darkness... The tiny dragons lifting their wings in warning to any who might dare approach.

[dappy-dappernette]

Quotes from my gf ( @saltjam ) while playing Slay the Princess for the first time (Pt 1):

"Yipee! I am an evil person!"

"The air's gonna be musty when we're done here. Cause we're gonna be freaky."

Convo between me and her:

Her: "I don't listen to British people."

Me: "But you listen to Voice of the Hero."

Her: "Yeah but he sounds like he'd whimper."

"Don't worry I'll eat the door. I'll eat the chains."

"Nooo I was supposed to do that!" -In response to the Princess biting herself

"Will she succ my pp?"

"We're gonna passion inside of her"

"I'm gonna enter the brainscape and peg him. Make him squeal."

"I like how the cabin is the same on the outside but changes internally, just like I'm gonna change her internals."

"I forgot my schizophrenia medicine again."

"I'm here! We're gonna get freaky!"

"I need a mother for my eggs! I NEED TO BUILD A NEST!"

"YES! SHUT UP BOTTOM!"

"I'm a nice little bird, I'm a nice little chickadee."

"SHUT UP! I'M TALKING TO MY WOMAN!"

"Thank you woman. Whatever you say Mama"

"HOW DARE YOU SAY MY BELOVED IS POSSESSED BY A BRITISH MAN"

"NOOOO!"

"Wait hold on- We might put our fingers on her but in a way that she likes."

"Yes I can I just gotta get it slippery enough."

"Idk what that word means."

"Come here my- YEAAAH! Thank god you have nimble little wrists lady."

"How do you think sex with her works since we have a cloaca"

"YEEEAH! HER TITS ARE BIGGER! I GOTTA FACE FULL OF BOOBIES!"

"I got a knife and a throat and I'm ready to use it."

"Maybe we'll end the world, maybe we'll have hot sex, who knows?"

"FUCK THEM I'M THE MAIN CHARACTER IN THIS I GOT MY WOMAN I'M HAPPY. yipee!"

"Don't worry baby I'll eat the door too."

"He's just mad cause he's a virgin."

"He's like 'HRRRGH! WOMAN!"

"HUZZAH! She ain't wearing a bra."

"YEAHH!"

"I can't wait till she turns into a big demon woman and then we'll freak it."

"I hear that ominous sound but idc. Woman."

"Jesus Christ it sounds like the world's falling apart around us."

"Let's blow up the world, then have hot sex."

*sobbing* "THEY TOOK AWAY MY WOMAN!"

"Omg Undertale reference."

"HEY! WHO'S THIS MAN! WHERE'S MY WOMAN?!" *punches mirror*

"MY WOMAN! Oh and all the hands to fist me with."

"I don't believe this!"

"Who the hell is this sad sack of shit?"

"I love being smart occasionally! yipee!"

"Hero needs to be strapped in his cuck chair."

"Smitten and Cold are going to fuck on the floor of my brain."

"I'm gonna much up her insides."

"They don't get it. Smitten."

"I love how since she can't hear the voices, this bird freak is just silently staring at her, blinking one eye after the other... My tummy hurts."

"Youchers."

"Mmm smells like KFC in here."

"Yeah the cuck is back, yaaay!"

"Sounds like YOU never met a woman!"

"Jiggle jiggle jiggle."

"Damn. A relator would go crazy over here."

"Why are we in a cage?! ... Do I get a little bell like some birds get?"

"Dam. Big beaver."

"The Hero's DEFINITELY a bottom, he's just proving my point."

"Don't worry Smitten! I'll make sure there's enough around! He's not here but he's here in spirit!"

"Oh she's saggy. Girl you need a better bra."

"Oh I got fat. Damn."

"Oh here we go in the hair forest again."

[faerishv]

Hi bestiee,

So like what about Teru (I love him with my heart and soul) with like an s/o who is great with physical combat and weilding weapons and helps train Kou. Like gives him tips AND trains with Teru .

Thank youu<3 I send virtual love

Feel free to ignore :D

literally in my opinion if you don't like teru you r a red flag frr /j

like a real couple of exorcists !!

; teru :

You and your parents are exorcist , so of course you know the Minamoto family and its 3 childs , all of them already strong for their age. You adore them and they adore you : Tiara loves how you always try to give her some time , to play princesses and knights or doing a tea party , of course she has her 2 brothers , though they are always busy with something. Kou is grateful for the times you invite him over your house to help him with training , he always has fun with you ! Now Teru is completely enchanted by you ; you know how to take care of yourself , dealing with super naturals , and you keep company to his beloved little brother and sister. He always tries to find an excuse to pass the time with you : you need help with school ? His grades are the best , he can tutor you ! You want to learn new techniques for exorcism ? He already has his sword in hand ; really , you can ask him anything and he will help you in any way possible. There was this time where your family invited the Minamoto family to dinner and your mother joked about you and Teru future life together , slaying supernaturals back to back like a real couple of exorcists !! <3

It was a day like others , you were training with Kou and Teru decided to join , a little training to warm up muscles its never bad right ? Kou left saying he needed to drink a cup of water , so now it's just you and the oldest Minamoto child ; being alone with him was never embarrassing , of course it was almost always silent , but it was pacific silence , something where the both of you could find comfort in ; he trusts you and you trust him , he could never ask for more with you around. Surprisingly Teru was the one to speak " [ name ] , you know , im really thankful for what you do " he says turning around to face you " oh don't worry , it's always nice helping Kou with exorcism , its not a problem for me ! " you smiled at him " im not talking just for my brother , im talking about everything. You know our mother died when Kou and Tiara were little ; you became their mother figure , in a certain way ; im glad to know they are happy around you " he gets closer to you , holding your hands " i really do hope one day , in the future , we could exorcise super naturals together , not just that though : even cook , clean the house , doing different activitys together , like a real couple of exorcists , like your mother said " your heart was beating very fast and you bet your face was of 50 shades of red. Before you could say anything Kou returned to you " is everything okay here ? " he asked looking at your face " o- oh yes ! Let's continue shall we ? "

You never thought Teru could think of that way , but you knew you were gonna talk to your mother about her jokes at the dinner table ...

[lumenflowered]

Pelipper mail! A nightmare.

Your life has never been your own. You were born to a noble family, one well respected, whose every member is highly skilled in the arts of sorcery, each with your own specialties and your own interests. Your family leads one half of the great alliance, the cold moon as counterpart to warm and flowing gold. And you, as princess, were chosen.

Chosen, not by your own choice, but by a will greater than any you know. Chosen as a candidate, an option, as one who would be tested and tried and -- you are convinced -- ultimately discarded the moment a better Prophet is found. The moment any other could speak for that devious, all-controlling god, you would be cast aside just as the prior one was, after her great sin.

You would do anything to remove its hold over you. Its angel, that ugly, fleshy thing that speaks only in gestures, shall rule your destiny no longer. But first, you must cease being the pure one with infinite potential that you were born to be. You must become a monster, and you must die a most terrible death, and you must learn to bend others to your will the way that awful god meant to do to you.

So you do. You send your most loyal followers and students to battle the guardian of Death itself, to claw a piece of its treasure away, and when they return, you do not hesitate. You enact a terrible ritual to slay your brother and yourself, though he has done no wrong to you. But he was there, and he was sworn to and so beloved by that very Will you hate, and though anyone would have done, it is he who dies for your scheme. You rise again, free of the flesh that confined you. Your brother does not.

You are but a doll, now. Inhabiting a body carved by your own hands, no longer the human you were -- but in inhumanity, finally, there is hope of freedom. And still, you manipulate, you bind to service all who happen across your secret place, and you ask of them to retrieve yet more weapons of blasphemy and war.

A dread blade is delivered unto your wooden, bloodless hands, and you brave a journey back to the church of your childhood. You slay the angel, cease the fingers' pointing toward a role you never asked to play, and at long last you are free.

And then, as you travel back to your lonely tower to prepare a journey into the endless night, the horizon glows with gold. The sky rains its brilliance across all the lands, and to the east the Temple shines renewed as a gold-masked Lord is crowned.

You look to the moon, and cannot find it through the too-bright sky. The stars are locked away from you, and a heaviness overtakes your dry and wooden form. It settles over you, over everything, and you feel the chaos and the malice that you cultivated deep within be sealed beneath a universal set of truths. You hate it, this power born of meddling ones too great for human comprehension. You hate it all the more, knowing that all around will call this Order good.

There is no escape, not anymore. All your works, how terrible, have fallen just short of the end. You slew your brother, committed sins unthinkable, twisted countless malleable minds toward evil deeds... all for naught. You became a monster, and you died a most terrible death, in vain.

You have failed, utterly, and you are bound once more, not as prophet or princess, but as a wooden puppet cut loose without her strings, aimless and powerless and never again to be human, to be welcomed, to be warm. You have failed, and all the lands shall call it good.

I am . I amnot

I am. A person. I am a person. I do notharm others. I cannot harm o thers. My life may matter little, yet it is mineandI w ill make it matter. Tome .

I...

...Oh. Tho se are tears .

[dtyfp2]

Kingslayer

The Great War

Helen was 7 years old when she first heard the word ‘Kingslayer’.

Of course she had heard it before, but it was the first time it truly registered that these whispers were referring to her brave uncle Jaime.

For an entire week after she was made consciously aware of her uncles most “dishonourable” deed, she locked herself away in the library. She located every account of the slaying and carefully read each.

Word had gotten around of the young Princess’s search, and it surprised Jaime himself when he felt distraught, though he hid it well. He had never wanted his beloved niece to hear such rumours, for her young and innocent mind to be marred by his own deeds. She was pure, and he dirtied her soul.

It didn’t help that he didn’t see her, and his own shame kept him from seeking her out.

Tyrion came to see you on the third day, under the guise of bringing you a meal. Your fingers traced every word you read, and he couldn’t help but smile as you sounded certain words out. He didn’t say anything, instead he looked over your shoulder to help you with the hard words. He didn’t want you to know what ‘execution,’ ‘disgrace,’ or ‘madness’ meant but you wouldn’t be deterred and he figured it was best if he were there to guide you through the mess.

“Uncle Jaime!”

On the 8th day, the Princess Helen closes her books and leaves the library, off in search of her dead uncle. She finds him walking the halls and runs to him, her arms raised so he could catch and lift her up like he always did. He does, without fail, he would always catch her.

“Uncle Jaime, does it bother you when people whisper behind your back? They don’t say very nice things,” you ask him as he sits, allowing you to settle on his lap.

“No, princess, it doesn’t bother me. My actions were my own and I must own up to them, and I do. Their words do nothing to me,” Jaime smiles down at the rosy-cheeked child in front of him as he fixes her hair.

“I heard what they said about you, it bothered me,” you admit to him.

“I’m sorry, dear Helen, I never wanted you to hear such things. I had hoped to protect you from it all but I’ve failed,” Jaime frowns.

“You didn’t fail, uncle,” Helen shakes her head.

“I’ve decided it was a mercy, uncle. A mercy for our people,” you explain. This was something Jaime had never heard.

“A mercy?” Jaime raises his eyebrows.

“They called the king before father ‘mad’. I think he was a very bad king who hurt lots of people. He had to have been stopped, and you were brave enough to stop him. I think you did the right thing,” you tell your uncle, very matter of factly.

Jaime is a little shocked to finally hear these words. He felt vindicated. He was either called ‘kingslayer’ or the topic was ignored all together. He didn’t even talk about it with Cersei, nor Tyrion, or even his own father. Helen didn’t know much about honour and oaths and loyalty, things he had all sworn to Aerys II, but in that way her opinions were refreshing.

“One bad act does not wipe away the good. You are still my brave uncle Jaime,” you declare as you throw your arms around him.

Jaime sighs a breath of relief as he hugs his niece back. All this time, he had worried she’d never look at him the same way again, but his worries had been for nothing.

“Thank you Helen,” Jaime says softly as she raises her head and presses a kiss to his cheek.

“You’re too sweet a princess, too good for any us. The Seven Kingdom’s are lucky to have you,” Jaime tells you as he holds your hands. Sometimes Jaime thought you should be Queen after your father, you might have been the only one to truly deserve the throne in nearly 300 years. You’d bring everlasting peace to the Kingdom’s, and he’d exterminate anyone who dared disturb your peace.

“They’re lucky to have you too,” you remind him.

“Will you escort me to my sewing lessons? I’ve neglected them all week and I think mother will be cross,” you ask him suddenly, with the flippancy only the seven year old mind could create.

“I’d be happy to.”

[caissa-scribbles]

The Princess in the Ivory Tower (part 3/4)

Gajevy Week 2023, Day 1: Fairy Tale

It was past midnight that an enormous beast hit the ivory tower with its claws, roared a mighty roar and ripped out the window with frame and all.

A dragon!

Stones and wooden planks crashed into the yard like falling leaves.

The knights who had heard the ruckus grabbed their swords and rushed out into the court, but it was too late; they could only watch the silvery shadow fly off towards the nearby mountains, and in its claws it was holding the princess.

The king came running out in his nightcap, too, and he immediately called for the three contestants.

‘I want you to track down that dragon, slay it and bring my beloved child back home!’, he cried in awe.

The princes shouted out their agreement and demanded that their horses should be made ready. Only the Road Knight stayed calm in all the turmoil.

‘Is this an official quest you’re hiring me for?’ he asked, smirking again. ‘Then let's talk about my reward first. I don't work for free. And I'm talking about hard money, not some disguised burden like a princess or a kingdom.’

‘Fine, fine! You shall have it!’ the king exclaimed. ‘Bring my daughter back and I'll give you as much gold as your pockets can hold. And for the others: Consider this your third task.’

The three knights set off together at once, but in no time the Flower prince was left behind, and the prince of Celeritas had to give up in the mountains as neither he nor his horse could handle the dangerously steep rock walls.

Thus the Road Knight was left alone on this quest with his horse as his only companion, and this was just the way he liked to work best anyway. They had been a good team for a long time already.

The path wound up the mountains in the dark of the night, it was cold and the land was barren. But after a while which seemed like forever, the traces of a gigantic monster increased in number. Broken rocks, gnawed bones and pieces of silvery scales scattered on the ground told the Knight that he was nearing his target.

And then the beast was there, sitting on a ledge, his back turned on the rock wall behind which the fighter was hiding.

The dragon was as large as a barn. His body glittered in the moonlight like polished metal.

The Knight silently turned his right arm into a bastardsword and took a deep breath, then he entered the plateau and yelled, 'Oy, scrapheap! We had a deal! You stay away from humans and I'll spare your scaly ass, remember?’

The dragon spun around and unfolded his enormous wings, like... he wanted to block something from sight? His eyes, which had unusual black markings to their outer corners, glared ferociously as he roared 'That bargain wasn't broken, Road Kni-'

‘Wait! You two know each other?!'

Suddenly a female - and rather upset - voice came from behind the dragon. The Road Knight took advantage of the surprise effect, dodged, rolled under the dragon's wings and jumped to his feet right behind the monster's giant front legs, only to stand frozen a second later in complete disbelief.

The captivated princess was sitting comfortably on a flat rock in her lace nightgown, a warm cloak wrapped around her shoulders which looked a bit battered, like it had once been a soldier’s garment. In her lap, she was holding an open book as if she had just been reading out aloud, and she was pretty relaxed for a hostage.

The dragon suddenly seemed very embarrassed.

'What the heck is going on here?' the Knight asked with a frown, turning his arm back to normal.

Now the princess closed her book with a snap, slid of the rock and hurried towards the Knight where she forced herself between him and the dragon with her hands on her hips.

'Are you here at my father's orders? Listen, this dragon didn't really kidnap me - well, technically he did, but he did me no harm. He just wanted me to help him with something, and - ah, whatever. These mountains belong to the territory of my kingdom, which means that every dragon living here is officially my subject. I won’t allow you to harm him!’ she put her foot down. Her look was stern but somewhat droll as she was so short. Yet the Road Knight hid his amusement and ignored her completely as he crossed his arms and looked the dragon straight in the eye, which everyone knew was a surefire way to get killed.

‘I’d say kidnapping this annoying little stay-in-the-tower princess here does count as breaking the bargain. Even though you two seem to get along pretty well,’ he taunted. ‘Explain yourself before I run out of patience!’

The dragon flashed him a sinister glance and straightened his back before he spoke.

'I agreed to stay away from humans to keep the peace between our races, alright. And I’m a dragon of honour. I keep my word. But animals and trees aren't actually entertaining companions, you know. Nor are rocks. I... I was bored! I was just looking for some distraction. And then I happened to overhear some travellers. They were talking about those objects that can tell stories.'

'Books,' the Road Knight concluded. The dragon shifted uncomfortably and nodded.

'Yeah... It wasn't difficult to - er - find me some books. But nothing happened. Then I found out that you have to read them to make them reveal the stories...'

'Which you can't.'

‘It’s not his fault. Not all people can read!’ the princess interjected, but she was ignored again as he just continued.

‘So you got yourself a reader, I see. Well, I hate to crash you little book club, but I was hired to take that girl back to her old man. Now, may I trouble you to get on my horse, milady, or would you rather be tied to the saddle like a bag?’, he offered with an ironic little bow. His black horse snorted, but it almost sounded like a snigger.

[bigsoftmarshmallow]

How does The Ganondorfs (Wind Waker, Ocarina of Time, Twilight Princess, Hyrule Warriors, and Tears of the Kingdom) and Demise (From Legend of Zelda Skyward Sword) court someone? What is their style of Courtship? Are they sentimental romantics? Are they more predatory (Showing off catches and hunts, taking down monsters and giving parts of it as prizes, etc)? Are they more of "This person is Mine and I'll slay anyone who dares think otherwise"?

Wind Waker Ganondorf

Style of Courtship: Sentimental Romantic

Wind Waker Ganondorf has a softer, more introspective side, especially given his years of solitude and reflection. He values deep emotional connections and seeks to build a bond through meaningful gestures.

Scene:

Ganondorf had been watching her from a distance for weeks, his sharp eyes catching every subtle movement, every smile, every furrowed brow. He knew she was different from anyone he had ever encountered. One evening, he approached her with a gentle, almost hesitant, demeanor, holding a beautifully crafted seashell necklace.

"I found this while walking along the shore," he said, his deep voice soft. "The colors reminded me of your eyes. I thought it would suit you."

Her eyes widened in surprise as she took the necklace from him. "Thank you, Ganondorf. It's beautiful."

He smiled, a rare and genuine expression. "I wish to know more about you. Spend time with me, and let us discover each other's hearts."

Ocarina of Time Ganondorf

Style of Courtship: Predatory

Ocarina of Time Ganondorf is more aggressive and dominant in his approach. He seeks to impress and demonstrate his power through grand gestures and displays of strength.

Scene:

Ganondorf stood over the massive carcass of a defeated dragon, his chest heaving from the exertion of the battle. He called out to her, his voice echoing through the cavern. "Come, witness my victory."

She approached cautiously, eyes wide with awe as she took in the scene. Ganondorf reached into the dragon's mouth and pulled out a shimmering, intact fang. "For you," he said, handing it to her. "A token of my strength and devotion. Know that I will always protect you."

She accepted the fang, her fingers brushing against his. "Thank you, Ganondorf. This means a lot."

He nodded, his eyes intense. "You are mine, and I will slay anyone who dares think otherwise."

Twilight Princess Ganondorf

Style of Courtship: Predatory and Possessive

Twilight Princess Ganondorf blends displays of strength with a possessive nature, ensuring that his beloved understands she is his and his alone.

Scene:

Ganondorf led her to the edge of a cliff, overlooking a vast, moonlit forest. "Do you see that?" he asked, pointing to a group of shadow creatures lurking below. "They will not harm you. None will, so long as you are with me."

He raised his hand, and with a swift motion, commanded the shadows to disperse. Turning to her, he took her hand in his, his grip firm but not painful. "You are mine," he said, his voice a low growl. "And I will ensure your safety, no matter the cost."

She looked up at him, a mix of fear and admiration in her eyes. "I trust you, Ganondorf."

He smiled, a rare and almost feral expression. "Good. Now, let us return. There is much I wish to show you."

Hyrule Warriors Ganondorf

Style of Courtship: Grandiose and Charismatic

Hyrule Warriors Ganondorf uses his charisma and grand gestures to woo his beloved, making sure they feel both special and integral to his plans.

Scene:

Ganondorf stood at the head of his army, his crimson cape billowing in the wind. He turned to her, his eyes gleaming with determination. "Watch," he said, raising his sword high. "This victory is for you."

As he led his forces into battle, she watched in awe as he fought with unparalleled skill and ferocity. When the battle was won, he returned to her side, presenting her with the enemy's banner. "For you," he said, his voice filled with pride. "A symbol of my strength and devotion."

She accepted the banner, her heart racing. "Thank you, Ganondorf. I am honored."

He smiled, a genuine and warm expression. "You are my queen, and together, we will conquer all."

Tears of the Kingdom Ganondorf

Style of Courtship: Sentimental and Protective

Tears of the Kingdom Ganondorf values deep emotional connections and seeks to build a bond through meaningful gestures while ensuring his beloved feels protected and cherished.

Scene:

Ganondorf led her to a secluded grove, where the moonlight filtered through the trees, casting a soft glow on the ground. He reached into his cloak and pulled out a small, intricately carved wooden box. "For you," he said, handing it to her.

She opened the box to find a delicate bracelet, crafted from rare stones. "It's beautiful," she whispered.

He smiled, a rare and gentle expression. "I want you to know that you are cherished. You are my light in the darkness."

She looked up at him, tears in her eyes. "Thank you, Ganondorf. I feel the same."

He took her hand in his, squeezing it gently. "Together, we will face whatever comes our way."

Demise

Style of Courtship: Predatory and Dominant

Demise is aggressive and dominant in his approach, seeking to impress through displays of power and ensuring his beloved knows they are his.

Scene:

Demise stood before her, his fiery hair blazing like a beacon in the darkness. He had just defeated a powerful enemy, and his chest heaved with exertion. He stepped closer, his eyes burning with intensity. "Do you see what I am capable of?" he asked, his voice a low growl. "This power is yours, should you choose to stand by my side."

He reached out, taking her hand in his and pressing it to his chest. "Feel my strength. Know that I will protect you with every fiber of my being."

She looked up at him, a mix of fear and admiration in her eyes. "I do, Demise. I trust you."

He smiled, a fierce and predatory expression. "Good. You are mine, and together, we will conquer all."

[dreamiesdotcom]

[4:27] Being protective, jealous, and possessive came naturally to Jaemin, just like how being gentle, understanding, and supportive did. It was one of the many things he brought into your relationship. None were to the point of being toxic, just enough to be endearing and, well, adventurous, you'd dare say.

So you weren't familiar with this, with the swirling hotness in your gut; it was not the good kind, the one he introduced to you. This one birthed a certain heaviness in your heart and your eyes are prickling with tears you blink away. You were Jaemin's princess, after all, and nobody else is taking that crown away from you. No. You're not letting them.

You'd slay them and put their head in a golden platter before they could even try.

But what it is exactly, this green eyed monster possessing your veins? Your soul feels tainted, your logic clouded, and while you know that no amount of lingering touches and soft laughter and flirty jokes could sway him away from you, you can't help but fear because what if it does? What would you do?

The hallway is mostly empty, as the artists residing this part of the building are either in their studios or practice rooms. It's 4am, too late for him to be out dancing, so you decided to drop by and bring him snacks (not a good idea, but it's the only thing that could seduce him into going home and sleeping like all his other group members are doing currently, their last braincells at full function, seemingly having left your boyfriend's on their little vacation just a day ago). It's 4am, too late for anyone to be holding little chit-chats, because normally at this time of the day you're either ignoring the world because you're busy with your business, or just really, clearly, obviously, are not yet in the proper state of mind to 'give a fuck'.

That was clearly neither the person in front of Jaemin, though. One of her hands trailed ever so slowly up his arms, the other feeling the soft locks, hinting slight dryness, of his dyed hair. You try to rationalize your thoughts, despite the clawing in your chest and the incessant urge on your feet to just run the hell away and never, ever show yourself to the face of this city ever again.

You were calm, level-headed, and nourishing. You softened Jaemin's overprotective side and told him about how it's normal to feel jealous, but not really healthy to act out on it in the... petty extremities he used to let them out on. And that there's more than one way of earning the promise of 'as long as we can manage, no matter what fate decides for us' aside from owning you.

But it's 4am, for God's sake, too early for you to be dealing with this bullshit.

So you walk up to them after gathering your strength and breathing in a sigh.

"Hey," you call weakly, looking down on the floor and the messy bow of your shoelaces. Confused, both people looked at you in silence, and you nervously chuckle, "C-can... uh. Can you call an ambulance?"

Oh.

So that's it.

Concern washes over the girl's face. Jaemin stills, paling, and he looks like he wants to say something, but he's cut off when she spoke.

"What, what's wrong? What happened?" She asks curiously, and you would've felt bad if you were naive to trust her tone, but you've been in this situation far too long to not recognize her true words — can't you see we're busy? Can't you ask someone else for help? Why don't you just fucking die already.

That was the bubbling feeling deep within you. That was the name of the monster.

"Nothing yet," you say with the sweetest smile as you look up, blinking innocently. "Something definitely will, though, if you keep touching my belongings like that."

It was jealousy.

Funny how quickly she left after that. He's been trying to do that for the past hour, but he doesn't have time to dwell on your ways because of the light flashing before him.

It was jealousy, and it shined clearly in your eyes. Jaemin was almost proud — had he not felt guilty about not being able to find the words to politely turn her down before you, his beloved who went through the troubles of luring him out of the practice room, find a random lady doing things he's only ever allowed you to do? Crossing lines drawn with the sole purpose for you to stomp over them wearing your bratty, princess pout?

And he wasn't an object, wasn't made to be owned. You two have agreed to be your own persons, to never refer to each other as something even implying the barest of... whatever it was that had to do with ownership.

But damn. Jaemin gapes and closes his eyes, catching his breath, and when he's sure there's nobody else in the hallway but the two of you, he couldn't stop himself; he corners you into the wall and leans his head on the crook of your neck, breathing heavily as if he's trying really hard to contain himself but it does nothing about the fact that he's still so, so pathetically at the verge of snapping.

"Y/N, that was hot."

[cheresceless]

Here is your oneshot everybody!! TW for implied cutting!!

Today was the day a soldier was born. That soldier was one who turned the tides of a budding war, and the soldier who slayed the beast, Ganon, with the help of the warrior princess. The clock’s ebullient chimes brought a hero into the world.

That was twenty-one years ago. The hero now sat in his home in town, alone. His sister had gone out for some reason. She had told him she was running an errand for Zelda. So here he was, in his home, all alone. Link had made himself a coffee, as he hadn’t slept that well the night before. The memories of a war long passed still haunted him. As of now, the pain was unbearable as he sat in the deafening silence. He sipped on his coffee from time to time, wincing in disgust. It was too bitter. He wasn’t even getting his morning coffee right. The same question clouded his thoughts.

“Do I really deserve to be here?”

He was alone. It would be okay. Nobody would know. He got up and reached for a blade from the counter. But he paused. He heard the door open. His body tensed. His hand was on the blade. He could feel the wooden hilt on his fingertips. There were footsteps. They were light, but he still heard them. He whipped around, holding the blade as if his life depended on it. But…

It was only Linkle. She had something wrapped in a cloth. It seemed to be quite a box. Link didn’t question what his twin had brought in. He only dropped the knife, letting out a sigh of relief. A small smile formed on his face, one that was rather forced. He didn’t want to alert her. But he ultimately failed when Linkle approached him, a worried look in her ocean eyes.

“Brother, are you doing okay? You’re more jumpy than usual,” She stated, observing the tense form of her twin. Sometimes it was like that, and she could tell something was off. It was like some supernatural ability the two had.

“It’s nothing, El, really. I didn’t sleep well last night, and I ruined my coffee. I’ve just had a bad start to the day.” He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. But he remembered something. They were twins. “Oh, happy birthday, sister.”

Linkle smiled, pulling her brother into a hug with a smile on her face. That was a quick change in mood. “Happy birthday to you as well!”

Twins. Always the most interesting of siblings pairs.

~==========================================~

He hadn’t expected to see so many of his former comrades and the Queen herself preparing for the birthday party. It was now about 5 in the evening. Hour 17 of the day. His beloved twin had dragged poor Link into the castle for their birthday. It was shocking to the former hero, to see Impa preparing things as well. He didn’t strike her as one to celebrate someone’s birthday, not even her own. But here the Sheikah was, preparing for the birth of two heroes.

There was a delectable cake awaiting them at the table. It was adorned with edible charms. The table was covered in a beautiful royal blue cloth. And the hero had decided to wear his prized scarf. Everything, minus his cap. It still felt quite odd to him. His birthday was being celebrated. He wasn’t used to such a lively celebration. Especially for his birthday. He had gotten cards from those he held dear. And he had gotten some rupees from people in his former troop. Perhaps today was turning around. A smile spread on his face as the cake was placed in front of him and his excited twin sister. The lights dimmed. The whole room said one thing in unison.

“Happy Birthday, Link.”

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Hi love!

Can I please beg for Tangled Geraskier?

Rapunzel Jask. You know I’m a sucker for angst so including the scene where he cuts her hair would slay me 💖💖💖💖💖

TYILYYYYY

Hello, Stina dear! Sorry this took me actual months to write, but it broke me out of my writer’s block and for that I am eternally grateful.

I chose several pieces of the Tangled narrative to write Geralt and Jaskier into... enjoy! 

2k-ish words (please leave me comments I’m so tired my dudes)

tw: blood, injury, major character (near) death, if you’ve seen Tangled you’ve seen this

---

“So,” Jaskier smiles playfully up at the thief sitting beside him. “Roger Eric, huh?”

Geralt rolls his eyes but Jaskier catches the flush that settles high on his companion’s cheekbones. “It was… It’s a long and boring story about a lot of sad little children that I’m sure you don’t want to hear on such a lovely evening.”

Jaskier scoots closer, until the sides of their arms are pressed too tightly together for even a slip of paper to slide between, and leans his weight against the thief. He bats his thick eyelashes and pouts his lip in a way that always seems to work with his Father. “C’mon, Geralt, please won’t you tell me? Just one little story? I told you about my magical hair, after all.”

“Hmm,” the thief glares dawn at the doe-eyed blonde for a moment before nervously clearing his throat. “Fine. I… I got the name Geralt of Rivia from a collection of short stories that I used to read the other boys at the orphanage in Kaedwen; they were all about this knight who was loyal and brave and courageous despite his hideous appearance. He was rejected by princesses and noble women but was beloved by the people. Having been born with white hair… well, a lot of the folks that came looking for children thought I was under a spell or curse so…. I wasn’t their first choice for adoption.”

“You and Geralt were a lot alike, then. Different. Special… Kind.”

“I wouldn’t say I was spe-”

Jaskier’s hand darts forward and his long, slender musician’s fingers grasp Geralt by the wrist. The fledgling bard clings onto his escort tightly, his large blue eyes suddenly brimming up with tears. “Don’t you dare say you aren’t special, Geralt Roger Eric whatever your surname really is. I’ll never forgive you if you spew such nonsense where my delicate ears can hear it.”

Geralt swallows thickly and glances away. Jaskier always looks so sweet and sincere; the features on his boyish face flicker in and out of focus as patterns of light thrown by their small campfire play across his pale skin. His gaze is intense, focused on Geralt and Geralt alone. The thief panics and asks: “What is it, Jaskier? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You saved me, you know. You saved me from those men back there at the inn, you saved me from being trapped in the tower all my life, you saved me from getting lost in the forest, you… you’re a good person, Geralt. Don’t let the world or the Captain of the Guard or anyone else change your mind, do you understand me? You are-” Jaskier’s hands scrabble frantically to grasp Geralt’s, as if the white-haired man might disappear entirely if Jaskier so much as loosens his grip “- you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me since I’ve been locked in that foul, awful tower!”

“Well I…” Geralt clears his throat again. He stands slowly, disentangling his hangs from Jaskier’s as he takes a slow step back. And then another. “I should go get more firewood.”

Despite the uneasiness in their parting, Jaskier smiles after him. 

The momentary spell cast by their closeness is only broken when Jaskier hears a familiar voice from just behind him: “Well, I thought he’d never leave!”

The blonde jumps up from his seat and spins on his heel to face the black-cloaked wizard. “Father? How… How did you find me?”

Stregobor wraps his arms around Jaskier’s shoulders and squeezes so tightly that it feels more like a threat than an embrace. “It was easy, I simply followed the sound of absolute betrayal.”

Jaskier flinches and tries to pull away but cannot yet escape. 

“I just brought you this,” his Father continues. He finally releases Jaskier and hands his son the worn leather satchel he’d found hidden in his tower. “If this Geralt creature really is the man you think him to be -and don’t deny it, little flower, I can read your thoughts- give this back to him and see how long he stays.”

“Father, I-”

“Goodbye, my child. See you soon, I’m sure. Just remember that Father knows best!”

And in a swirl of black smoke and confusion, Stregobor disappears.

---

“Why do you look so scared?” Geralt asks. He slows the small gondola he’s rented to a stop, turning it slightly more to the side so that they have a better vantage point to see the lanterns spread over the harbor from the city. Jaskier sighs deeply and shakes a stray flower petal away from his eyes, the enormous golden braid shifting ever-so-slightly against his shoulders.

“I’ve been looking out a window for eighteen years,” he says softly. Nervously. “What if… What if it’s not what I expected? I’m terrified to see what it all looks like up close because what if it doesn’t meet my expectations? What if it’s not everything I dreamed it would be?”

“It will be,” Geralt replies without thinking. 

“And what if it is?” Jaskier queries, voice growing frantic. “What if it’s even more spectacular than I could have ever hoped? Then my dream will have been fulfilled and I’ll just… go back to the tower again.”

“You’ll just have to find a new dream, I guess,” Geralt offers. When Jaskier settles down into the boat a bit more comfortably and smiles shyly back at him, the thief knows he’s hit the right mark for once. Behind Geralt, the first lantern lights up the sky. Jaskier gasps and points, eyes wide and sparkling with excitement; Geralt is utterly enchanted by his easy beauty. The thief digs two paper lanterns out from beneath his seat and offers one to Jaskier, giddy when he grins even more excitedly than before. “I got this for you… I hope you like it.”

“Oh, I love it! And I have something for you, too.” Jaskier turns and pulls something from behind him. The bardling hands Geralt his very own satchel, which the thief briefly accepts and then drops to the floor without a second thought. The anxious blonde musician beams over at him more gloriously than the midday sun and then turns away, blushing a sweet shade of pink. “I should have given it to you earlier, but I was so scared… and now I’m not! I’m not scared anymore!”

“Good,” Geralt smiles back. He’s elated. It feels as if his heart is glowing twice as brightly as any of the lanterns floating past and around them. “That’s very good.”

I know what my dream is now, Jaskier. Now that you’re here by my side I never want to see you frown again. You don’t deserve to be hidden away in a tower where your art is stifled… even if you don’t want to love me back in that way, I’ll still protect you. I want to see how you see the world, Jaskier. I lo-

“Geralt! Look! That one has runes painted on it, what does it say!?”

---

Geralt pulls his daggers from his belt but before he can stab them into the craigy stone wall and begin his ascent, the familiar tresses of Jaskier’s long golden hair topple down to reach him. Thank fuck, he’s still alive. 

“Jaskier! I thought I’d never see you again!” he calls as he grabs hold of the thick blonde strands. 

The thief climbs quickly, his arms and legs nearly cramping with the effort to hurry back to Jaskier. As he hauls himself through the large window and into the tower proper, however, he’s met with a confusing and unsettling sight: Jaskier stands across the room, a cloth gag pulled tightly between his teeth, his hands manacled together behind him. A short length of spare chain attached to the manacles keeps the frightened, struggling blonde tethered against one of the building’s thick support beams. Someone had knocked down a mirror or vase during the previous fighting; shards of pottery and silver lie scattered across the floor, working as a weak barrier to keep Geralt away from the bound man. Jaskier screams out in warning as their eyes meet: “Ghmphh!”

If Jaskier is being held captive then who let his hair do-

Before Geralt can finish fully forming his question, a bright flash of pain arcs out from his side and sends him toppling to his knees. A wet, sticky heat begins to spread from a spot beneath his ribs and when he presses his hand against his shirt it comes way red. 

Oh. Oh, no...

He hears Stregobor’s voice addressing the sobbing blonde, “Now look what you’ve done, Jaskier.”

Geralt collapses to his knees and then falls to his side, curling up in the fetal position and clutching at the wound as if that will be any help at all. He knows he’s doomed, but there must be some way for him to help Jaskier… to save his… his love. 

“Don’t worry, little flower, our secret will die with your little thief, here, and then we’ll be safe again. Just the two of us.”

Jaskier keens loudly and the sharp, desperate sound of it makes something deep in Geralt’s heart ache. The younger man pulls and yanks against the chains that hold him in place, his bare feet slipping against the polished floor as he tries and fails to reach the wounded Geralt. 

Stregobor yanks at the lead, pulling Jaskier back harshly by the arms. The young musician’s shoulders burn with the strain of it but Jaskier pulls forward anyway, uncaring. He must save Geralt, he must. The wizard tugs him back again, more roughly, and the jarring movement loosens his gag. He spits it from his mouth and cries out: “Stregobor! Strego- Father, listen to me!”

The wizard pauses, his interest piqued by Jaskier’s use of the word Father given the circumstances. “Yes, child?”

“Father,” Jaskier pants, turning to look at the man who’d held him captive for eighteen years. The man who kidnapped him from his cradle and forced him to grow up without the love of his real parents. The man who had, mere moments ago, stabbed the love of Jaskier’s life with the full intention of killing him. “I want you to know that I won’t stop fighting you. Every moment of every day for the rest of my life will be spent trying to get away from you. I will scream and kick and struggle and yell and you will have to keep me caged away as a bird or a mouse to make me stay by your side unless-” Jaskier pauses to take a breath, his shoulders sagging as his gaze drops submissively to the floor between them “-unless you let me save this man. Let me save Geralt’s life and I will follow you all around the Continent without a single word of complaint. I will never attempt to run away or hide from you, not once. Everything will go back to being exactly like it was before, Father, I swear on his life.”

Stregobor considers for a moment. 

He nods. 

“Alright, then. Let’s be quick about it, little flower.”

He removes the shackles from Jaskier and clamps them tightly around Geralt’s wrists instead, securing him to the bannister at the foot of the stairs. To keep him from following us, he remarks offhandedly. 

Jaskier pads his way across the floor as quickly as he can in his bare feet and falls to the ground at Geralt’s side. He pulls the wounded thief against his side to steady him and gathers two heavy handfuls of his own long hair. “I’m so sorry! Everything is going to be okay now, Geralt, I swear it.”

Geralt shoves his hands away weakly, “No, Jaskier.”

“You have to trust me, Geralt, I-”

“I c-can’t let you d-do this,” Geralt grunts, teeth gritted against the pain. 

Jaskier stares down at him, tears already gathering at the corners of his sky-blue eyes. His voice trembles when he whispers, “And I can’t let you die. I won’t let you die.”

“But if you do th-this then you-” Geralt coughs and Jaskier wipes a trickle of blood away from the corner of the thief’s mouth “-you will die.”

“Shh,” Jaskier quiets him, dropping one fistfull of blonde tresses to cup Geralt’s face instead. “Everything will be alright.”

Geralt smiles sadly up at Jaskier, his decision already having been made. He lets the back of his knuckles ghost across the musician’s peach-soft cheek. Jaskier’s eyes flutter shut for a moment and then open again, curious. “Jaskier, I…”

The thief uses the last of his strength to push up into a sitting position. The hand on Jaskier’s face slides back and gathers his hair at the back of his neck. Geralt’s other hand comes up, a shard of glass gripped tightly in his fist, and slices through the long blonde strands. He watches as Jaskier’s hair turns from radiant gold to chestnut brown. Geralt falls back with a short, sharp sound of agony, his vision already fading around the edges. The shard of mirror, dagger-sharp around the edges, clatters to the ground beside Jaskier. 

“No!” Stregobor screams, gathering up an armful of Jaskier’s still-blonde hair. The golden hue is already fading, shifting to match the short brown hair still fluffed around his head. The lost prince watches with wide, horrified eyes as the wizard trips over a loose floorboard and goes careening out the open window. 

More worrying than his kidnapper’s death, however, is the man lying in his arms, breathing shallowly. Jaskier gathers Geralt close, tucking the thief’s head against his neck and wrapping his arms around the older man’s broad shoulders. “No, no, no, no, Geralt. Stay with me, okay? Stay with me, right here.”

He grabbed at Geralt’s hand, holding it against the top of his head as he sang desperately. “Flower gleam and glow, let your power shine, make the clock reverse, bring back was once was mi-”

“Jaskier!” Geralt says, pulling his hand down to cup the prince’s face. He can feel his limbs growing cold and numb, distant from him and out of his control. “You… You were my new dream.”

Jaskier sobs, clinging to Geralt with all he’s worth. “And you were mine.”

Geralt manages to smile up into those beautiful blue eyes one last time. And then the world goes dark and his hand falls to the floor, limp.

---

Jaskier buries his face in the crook of Geralt’s neck and screams. He throws back his head and howls like a wounded animal, his heart shattering to pieces within the confines of his chest cavity. Then he quiets himself down, adjusts Geralt’s body on his lap, and finishes the song the way he’s been taught to do: “Heal what has been hurt, change the Fates’ design, save what has been lost… bring back what once was mine.”

A single tear falls from his eye and lands on Geralt’s cheek. A cheek that will never blush again, never turn up in a smile, never-

A faint yellow glow catches Jaskier’s vision, just from the corner of his eye. He turns his head to look at Geralt’s wound and gasps: the outline of a golden flower covers his abdomen, glowing so brightly that Jaskier must hide his eyes and turn away to keep from being blinded. When the glow fades enough that can safely look back again, Geralt’s wound is gone and the blood that was once staining his jerkin has disappeared. 

He leans over the white-haired thief with bated breath, waiting for a movement or a breath or something… anything. 

After a long moment, two honey-hazel eyes blink open. Geralt inhales quietly and then asks, with the sweetest smile Jaskier has ever seen in all his eighteen years of life, “Did I ever tell you I had a thing for brunettes?”

Jaskier squeals with glee and throws himself into Geralt’s waiting arms, pressing their eager mouths together for the first kiss of their Happily Ever After. 

[dark-and-kawaii]

Kiwi, I'd love to have an in-depth exposé of Thay's political system. What are the factions at court? Who are the great noble families of Thay? What about dragons? Are they a big cultural element in Thaian society? What about that society, though. How is it organized?

I'll need your three volumes book by tomorrow thank you.

I love talking about the lore but I apologize because I’m trying to condense a 5 year campaign and that’s EXTREMELY hard!!! I did my absolute best and I hope you enjoy it<333 Thank you jelly for taking such a huge interest <33 I have something cooking for you as a thanks for all the lovely stories you’ve been sending me xoxo!!

If you are interested in learning more about Lofn & Zevlor and where they live I highly recommend checking this out!!

Tʜᴇ Lᴏʀᴇ Oғ Tʜᴀʏ

In the court of Thay it is primarily composed of Wizards representing different schools of magic. These Wizards serve as advisors to Thay’s ruler, including the princess and her siblings, such as Signa, the King of Cormyr. The Red Wizards are a secret society since Lynnania’s grandfather took control and are known to be able to use the red crystals (a magical energy source) at their full potential. As members age, they seek successors to continue their legacy. The Red Wizards also provide counsel to the rulers and vigilantly guard against threats to the city. Korgus, the leader of the Red Wizards, holds a position on the council and has demonstrated unwavering loyalty to the Thay family for many years.

As for the great noble families; the lineage of Lofn stands as the sole noble family in Thay, tracing its origins back to Thorion, Lofn’s great grandfather, who shaped Thay into its current form. Upon Thorion’s “death” (never fully confirmed), his son Merciel ascended to the throne, and he was loved and respected just as his father was. However, his reign faced turmoil when his beloved wife, Lilia, had an affair with the King of Cormyr, resulting in a pregnancy. Despite the scandal, she managed to ensure the child was safely delivered to the King of Cormyr before Merciel could discover the child wasn’t his and slay the infant.

When Merciel discovered the affair, a prolonged war erupted between Cormyr and Thay. This conflict raged on until Merciel, alongside the ancient red dragon he rode, slayed both the King of Cormyr and his ancient blue dragon. As time went by, Lilia gave birth to Lynnania but fled with her due to Merceil becoming more violent natured (he would abuse Lilia). That’s where Lynnania’s story began, when her mother died she eventually discovered who she was and at age 19 she ascended the Throne of Thay and took her rightful place as Queen after killing her father and handing his soul over to Grazzt.

Lynnania(19) later forged peace with Cormyr, having fallen in love with Lykos Cormyr (30), the son of the former king her father had slain. But before uniting the kingdoms, the two clashed despite their affections, resulting in Lynnania defeating Lykos and trapping his soul within her dagger. Eventually, she resurrected him, and together they have had three children, including Lofn.

In the heart of the city lies an enormous dragon spine, so massive that the district is aptly named The Spine. Whispers and tales suggest that this spine once belonged to Astilabor, the dragon Goddess of wealth. Legend has it that she and Thorion were inseparable allies, waging numerous battles side by side until she ascended to the heavens, leaving her spine as a symbol of the dragons' guardianship over the city.

The dragons hold a strong cultural influence on the realm of Thay but the one they embrace the most is The Ancient Red Dragon, Thalerion. Some even use the red crystals as a form of reverence.

Thay holds a yearly celebration to honor Thalerion and the other dragons with fireworks and street food. The society of Thay has a bustling marketplace (similar to the Bazaars Of The Ottoman Empire). Thay is even known for being a very artistic culture with lots of sculptures, the red crystals creating murals, and in some parts they value design over function. It’s a very magical place where you can find many rare weapons, clothing, and even creatures.

Since Bane’s arrival (Lynnania’s greatest ally/A father figure in his eyes to Lofn), the Banites have become a part of the guards and have been loyal to Thay. Because of the alliance Lynnania formed with them, the temple of Bane was built for those loyal to him. You will always find Bane lurking around near/ or with Lynnania (he also takes on the appearance of a wood elf named Reyes).

The guards of Thay are led by a man named Riznof, a well known seasoned veteran of the royal guard and Lynnania’s personal guard. They are all able to use teleportation circles all across the city that they use to get to needed locations to protect it. Since Thay is known for being extremely hot, their material is made of enchanted leather that is resistant to the heat. When a member of the Thay guards meet their end, the Thay family honors their sacrifice with a sacred burial ceremony. It is believed that these warriors who have departed this life with honor, are embraced by one of the dragons from the heavens in their final moments. Their bodies are set aflame by one of the Thay’s dragons so that their soul can embark on a journey, riding upon the back of a dragon into the celestial realms above.

Due to Lynnania’s alliance with the Abyss and Grazzt her castle is guarded by Giant Demon Dire Wolves. These beasts have fur as black as night, blood red eyes that pierce your very soul and bones that protrude from their spines. Besides the Thay family only five members of the Royal guards are able to command them, Riznof being one.

Thay’s greatest enemy is Asmodeus and the Nine Hells. Lynnania and the devil lord have been at one another’s throats ever since she interfered with his plans to conquer Toril, and corrupt Thay. Asmodeus has had numerous attempts at trying to ensalve the queen and destroy the city, but he has failed each time. This only fueled the hatred between the two further, and he has since made it his mission to find a way to end Lynnania...

In an act of desperation he took control of a close and very powerful ally of hers, a wizard named Veroon- and Asmodeus attempted to kill her himself as soon as he got close enough. Though he landed a near fatal blow, Lynnania survived and before she could trap his soul in her dagger, Asmodeus escaped the body he was in. Years have gone by and Asmodeus has yet to make another move and the hells have kept at bay away from Lynnania.

[blurglesmurfklaine]

Death Cannot Stop True Love

Summary: After being kidnapped from his kidnapper by the Dread Pirate Roberts, Blaine reminisces on the poor farmboy who once held his heart.

The Princess Bride AU, one shot, 1.7k words

A/N: did i work on ANY of my wips this weekend? no <3

BUT DID I WATCH THE PRINCESS BRIDE TWICE AND THEN SUBSEQUENTLY WRITE THIS? YOu BET YOUR ASS I DID

I've never really written anything like this??? But I surprisingly had a lot of fun with it, so let me know what you think! :D

Read on Ao3

*** 

Blaine’s hands land a bit too roughly against the grey granite for his taste, rather put off by the masked stanger’s manhandling.

He supposes being kidnapped by Willaim Schuester, then having the Dread Pirate Roberts kidnap him from his kidnapper wasn’t quite the delightful way he’d expected to end his evening ride, either.

“Rest, your Highness,” the man in black commands, the strands of tattered fabric that secure his mask tied behind his head billowing in the wind. Blaine refuses to shiver at the cool air of the highland whipping across his face, not wanting to show this man any signs of weakness. “You’re going to need it.”

“You’re the one who’s going to need rest,” Blaine spits, turning to face the man and take a proper seat on the stone. “My betrothed will come for me. Prince Smythe is an excellent tracker. He could track a falcon on a cloudy day, and he and his infantry will have me back in the castle and you in shackles by dusk.”

He should not make such bold claims at a time like this, and certainly not to someone as deadly as the Dread Pirate Roberts. Well, Blaine is only mostly sure he’s speaking to the infamous Pirate known for his murderous voyages on his ship, “Revenge”, but he’s certain enough.

“Ah, yes,” the man says bitterly back, fingers drumming ansty along the handle of his sheathed sword. “Prince Smythe. You have much faith in your most beloved, don’t you?”

Having his daily outing interrupted by that faux-philosopher Schuester from earlier and his two henchmen was unpleasant enough, but of all the things he’s heard come out of someone’s mouth this was the foulest. The law of the land gives Smythe the right to choose his spouse, and he chose Blaine. Despite this, Blaine knows he could never love Sebastian back. Now when he’s really known and lost his true love.

“I never said he was my most beloved,” Blaine snarls.

No. That title belongs to a name too precious to be uttered in front of the likes of a cheating, stealing, slaying pirate.

It’s been five long and lonely years since his dearest Kurt left him to venture out to sea, but Blaine can still feel Kurt’s hand in his sometimes, can still feel the residual warmth, as if it were yesterday. When he closes his eyes, it’s Kurt’s beautiful blue ones that are waiting for him when he falls asleep. Every round that his heart beats, it beats for the long dead Kurt Hummel.

Kurt had been Blaine’s family’s farm boy, and Blaine, in his infantile arrogance, loved nothing more than to boss him around. Whether it was “Farmboy, shine my saddle. I want to see my face shining in it by morning,” or “Farmboy, take these jugs down by the river to wash,” Kurt always responded with the same simple sentence that sent Blaine’s heart aflutter.

“As you wish.”

Blaine didn’t understand it at first—how could he, when he’d never been in love—the quickening of his pulse when he was near Kurt, how his knees seemed to careen and fail when hazel met piercing blue.

He didn’t understand why, when he’d asked Kurt to clean the stables, Kurt had looked at him with electricity in his eyes like a thunderstorm, and Blaine felt compelled to add a meek, “Please?” to the end of his request. He didn’t understand why when Kurt so softly answered him with those three little words— “As you wish” —Blaine would light like a lantern from the inside out.

He didn’t understand why he asked Kurt to fetch him a pitcher hanging right by his own head, just so he could be graced with having him in such close proximity, chest to chest.

“As you wish,” Kurt had said, and Blaine didn’t understand the magnetic force drawing them closer and closer.

And then Kurt’s lips were on his, and oh, how Blaine finally understood. He understood why wars were waged over Helen of Troy, and why lutists serenaded the public with foolish tunes of love that were actually the least foolish things in their nature.

He understood that every time Kurt said, “As you wish,” what he truly was saying was “I love you.”

He understood so clearly, and everything that wasn’t Kurt was reduced to complete and utter nonsense.

For a short year, they lived on borrowed time. Kurt’s family wasn’t from money, so he left the farm—and with it, Blaine—to seek wealth enough to ask for Blaine’s hand in marriage. It wasn’t long until the news came back to him that Kurt had encountered the Dread Pirate Roberts on the high seas.

There are three things Blaine knows to be true. Kurt Hummel was his one true love, death takes everyone and does not discriminate, and the Dread Pirate Roberts never takes prisoners.

Kurt never returned to him after that.

“No, I suppose he’s not your one true love,” the Dread Pirate responds, unimpressed. “I wonder whether a royal-to-be like yourself has ever truly loved.”

“I’ve loved and been loved deeper than you will ever know!” Blaine counters. “He was stolen from me, his blood on your sword. I know who you are. You’re the Dread Pirate Roberts, admit it.”

The Dread Pirate gives a little flourish, his night black outfit a stark contrast to the verdant grass of the highlands. “With pride.”

“You killed my love.”

“Quite possible. I’ve killed many of noble blood aboard my ship.”

“You know nothing,” Blaine says. “He was poor. Poor and perfect and with eyes like the sea after a storm. I received notice that he’d crossed your path on the high seas, and as we all know, you never take prisoners.”

Roberts shrugs, displaying such upsetting nonchalance at Kurt’s demise. “Can’t afford to make any exceptions. Once word leaks out that a pirate has gone soft, people begin to disobey you, and then it's nothing but work, work, work, all the time.”

Being held hostage by Schuester while the Dread Pirate fought off Michael Chang, one of the best swordsman ever to walk the earth, was nerve wracking. Hearing how he then proceeded to physically conquer who is probably the tallest man Blaine has ever seen, and then listening as he sat blindfolded to this man outwit William into drinking from a poisoned cup was a hellish enough adventure on its own, but it was not as dreadful as hearing his anguish ridiculed by this stranger.

“You mock my pain!”

“Life is pain, Highness.” The pirate gives Blaine a look that he would consider hurt, if he did not hate him so. “Anyone who says different is selling something… I think I remember this farmboy of yours. This would be about what, five years ago?”

Five years, three months, and sixteen days, Blaine refuses to say. His silence doesn’t deter Roberts from continuing.

“He died well, if it pleases you to hear that much.”

“With all due respect—which is little to none—nothing you can say will please me. Likewise, nothing you can say will harm me.”

“He made no attempts at either bribery or blubbering. He simply said Please. I need to live. It was the please that caught my attention. I need to live for him.” The pirate’s eyes grow misty and distant and so painfully reminiscent of his love’s that Blaine is forced to look away for a moment. “He spoke of a boy so lovely, and of enduring faithfulness. Sad to see he died for nothing. Tell me, Highness, when you heard news of his death, did you immediately become engaged, or did you wait a week out of respect for the dead?”

“Had I a choice in this matter I would join him among the realm of the dead!” Blaine yells back, surprised to see a bit of shock in the thief’s eyes. “You mocked my pain once, do not do it again. I died that day!”

The unmistakable sound of hooves pounding into the ground of the hillside opposite them causes Blaine to sigh in relief. He never thought he would be so elated to see his fiance. Still... elated may be too strong of a word.

The Dread Pirate turns to scout the incoming commotion, and Blaine acts before he has time to second guess himself.

“And you can die, too, for all I care,” he grits out, and shoves hard on the Dread Pirate’s back, sending the murderer tumbling down the hillside.

Blaine’s expecting to hear shouts of terror coming from the pirate, but what he hears next makes his stomach pool with dread.

“Aaaaaas yoooouuuuu wiiiiiiish!” echoes through the hillside, coming from the Dread Pirate Roberts and Blaine’s jaw drops.

“Kurt,” he gasps. “Oh God, what have I done?”

“Over there!” he hears Sebastian’s familiar and grating voice call out from just beyond the hillside. One glance behind his shoulder and Blaine knows they will come for him, and when they do, he will never see Kurt again.

So he jumps forward and follows Kurt rolling down along the slope of the hill.

Small rocks and flowers swirl past him in a blur, dirt kicked up every time his boots collide with the ground, and after falling for what feels like ages, his body finally comes to a halt, right next to Kurt’s warm one.

Blaine shifts to see Kurt better, body bruised from the fall, but soul absolutely jubilant.

Kurt scrambles over to him, black mask having been knocked off in the tumble. “Are you alright? Can you stand?”

Blaine laughs and reaches out to grab Kurt’s— Kurt’s —hand on top of his chest. as if to keep them physically tethered this time. “Stand? You’re alive. If you want, I could fly.” He buries his head deep into Kurt’s shoulder, inhaling the scent of him mixed with the grass and the dirt and the absolute joy of him being alive.

Kurt holds him back just as tight. “I told you I’d always come for you.”

“I thought you were dead.”

“My sweet Blaine,” Kurt murmurs, hand warm against Blaine’s cheek. “Death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it for a while.”

Blaine barely has time to smile before Kurt’s lips are on his again, back in their rightful place.

[faean]

Prince Sidon x Male Reader (Part 1/2)

Rating: T; Mentions of Blood/Death

Word Length: 1,960 words

Title: The Prince’s Folly

             -----

          “What’s a Hylian doing in Zora’s Domain?”

          “Isn’t he the one who used to live in Hyrule Castle teaching magic?”

          “Didn’t he travel the world? Why’d he choose to stay here after the Calamity?”

          “Did you hear? King Dorephan tasked him with slaying the Lynel since it’s been resurrected. I hope he survives...”

          “The council is hoping he doesn’t make it. They’re still so angry at the Hylians and their Champion, even after Mipha’s spirit told us not to be remorseful.”

          “I can’t believe it! He actually slew the beast! The Prince even saw him deliver the finishing blow. He’s been telling everyone about it.”

          “For a Hylian, he sure ages like a Zora. It’s been over 50 years and he doesn’t look a day older. He’s even taller than the average Hylian. I wonder if it’s because of his magic.”

          “Do you think the rumors are true? They say he isn’t interested in women. There have been a few female Hylians, Gerudo, even female Zora and Gorons approach him and he’s politely declined them all.”

          “I think the rumors might be true. He acts differently when around the Prince, and the Prince has been spending more time with him, too.”

          It’s been almost 75 years, and every day still brings something new. Sometimes it’s the council coming up with some asinine task for you to complete to get you to leave the domain, even if you always complete them with little difficulty. Sometimes it’s patrolling the borders and the dam. Sometimes it’s going out for more supplies. And, after every blood moon, you leave to confront the Lynel that terrorizes the Zora atop Ploymus Mountain. After so many decades, the fights end swiftly and without incident.

          Until recently.

          The Zora Prince, Sidon, has been spending every bit of free time with you. He joins you on patrols, short trading journeys, and the tasks the council sends you on, much to their dismay. Unfortunately, their hatred against Hylians seems to overrule their worry about the sole heir of the Zora. Either they are resentful he holds no grudges against Hylians like they do, or they actually recognize your skill and don’t fear for his safety. Hopefully, it was the latter.

          You didn’t mind his company, of course. For a while, most of the Zora were wary of you, though the younger generations, including Sidon’s, were much less discriminatory and more friendly, even going so far as to argue against some of the council’s decisions. There was one thing about Sidon’s presence that bothered you, though.

          You were hopelessly in love with him, and you had the sensation that he knew, considering the rumors surrounding your interactions with female suitors. It wasn’t until your most recent excursion to slay the revived Lynel once more that everything was brought to light…

          Many decades ago, back when I first moved to the Zora’s Domain after the Calamity, King Dorephan asked me to fight a Lynel atop a nearby mountain that had been terrorizing the Zora after the power of Calamity Ganon brought it back on a Blood Moon.

          As a Hylian, the shock arrows it fired would not be immediately fatal to me, and my prowess with magic was renowned, having granted me longevity and the opportunity to teach Princess Zelda (though, her obsession with ancient Sheikah technology limited my involvement). For me, (Y/N) (L/N), the Master of Magic, it would have been easy.

          Would have been.

          During the battle, I managed to avoid every one of the beast’s attacks, and had dealt several serious blows; however, the Lynel’s natural resistance to all the elements drained me of my energy as I used stronger and more costly spells to counter it. I had received some training with spears, bows, and blades, but not enough to rival that of a savage and cunning Lynel. Near the end of the battle, a certain young Prince had become entranced and stepped out further from his hiding place where he was watching.

          The Lynel did not hesitate to take aim, and the young Prince was frozen in fear. He didn’t see what happened next, too afraid to open his eyes until he heard my voice softly comforting him.

          There was no sign of the Lynel, just a jagged pillar of earth and the spoils of the slain beast. The Prince completely forgot his fear and was gushing over me and the battle, unaware of the cost of my victory. I escorted him back, presenting the spoils to the King as proof before leaving to my own home. Once alone, I uttered a few cryptic words and my clothing turned a deep crimson red.

          Now, he joined you again, but with your knowledge and the intent to fight. You instructed him on the beast’s tactics and abilities, as well as your usual strategy. You would wait until it put away its sword and shield to charge at you, and you would proceed to meet it head on by sliding underneath it to slay it in a single blow. Expending most of your magical energy, you focused it in between your hands before expending it all in a single devastating strike, piercing through its underside and disintegrating most of its body.

          With the Prince at your side, and with his skill with a bow, he’d get the beast’s attention before you struck it from behind. A simple diversion, yet wholly effective in theory. Even if the Lynel charged him, the Prince was more than capable with a spear.

          At least, that was the idea.

          The Lynel, in its cruel intelligence, was aligned perfectly with the Prince, preventing you from delivering the final blow. It cocked its shock arrows, ignoring the Prince’s own shots. Without hesitation and further thought, you dashed in front of the of the Prince and took the hit, just like you did all those years ago.

          Sidon’s eyes went wide with fear and realization as he saw the electricity course through your body, three arrows embedded across your chest. He watched as you shakily stood and proceeded to take a deep breath, blood pouring from your wounds as you raised your hands. He shielded his eyes from the bright light that followed, and when he could finally see again, all that was left were the creature’s weapons, parts, and a sizable crater in the ground from your attack. He meant to congratulate you, but you staggered and fell before he could, staining the grass blood red.

          -----

          “You have scars on your thighs… This isn’t the first time you took a Lynel’s arrows for me, is it?”

          The Prince was sitting at the foot of the large bed you were in, having brought you back to receive medical attention. He wouldn’t meet your gaze as you sat up, wincing at the pain and holding back a string of swears. You looked over at the Prince, saddened by how hurt he looked. He always wore a smile on his face, bringing cheer to the Zora people and working to keep the peace. He was treasured among his people, and even Lurelin Village and beyond, having saved them from a massive Octorok.

          But now? He had no smile; his eyes were dull, and his shoulders slumped.

          “My Prince … do not blame yourself. I made my choice that day, just as I made my choice today. It’ll take a lot more than a few arrows to take me down, and I would gladly take another if it meant keeping you safe.”

          Sidon was silent for a few moments before he wiped the tears from his face, turning to you with a bright smile and saying, “Have I told you just how much I appreciate everything you do? Because I really do appreciate all you do!”

          Admittedly, it was a little forced, but you still thought it admirable.

          “All right, now that that’s out of the way, I need a nap. I’m exhausted, and this isn’t my bed.” You breathed out as you rolled your shoulders.

          There was a brief pause before Sidon sheepishly told you that it was actually his bed you’ve been resting in for the past few days, since the healers thought it wasn’t a good idea to carry you all the way to your house while injured.

          “Wait, if I’ve been out for several days, then where have you been sleeping?” You asked, more worried about the Prince’s sleep than your own self.

          “… I’ve been here. I couldn’t bring myself to leave your side. The healers said you might not pull through, and I prayed to Mipha’s spirit to watch over you… The King … My father says it was survivor’s guilt, but I… (Y/N) … It was much more than that…” Sidon made his way around the bed to sit beside you.

          A massive blush spread across your face with how close he was, fortunately, he was looking down at the bed and not at you, though you would rather he met your gaze.

          “(Y/N), for an awfully long time now, I have been wishing to spend every day by your side. It’s why I join you on your assignments and invite you to every event I must attend. It’s why I convinced you and my father to let me fight beside you, but…” Sidon, without realizing it, took your hand in his, holding on to it as he spoke.

          “When you protected me, I remembered … I remembered when I was young and watched your fight with the Lynel for the first time, much like my sister had with the Hylian Champion. You had protected me back then, and you hid your injuries from me and even walked me all the way back home…” You felt him squeeze your hand as he continued, and you instinctively moved closer to him, coming to lean against him.

          “In that moment of realization, I knew exactly why I wished to be with you.”

          He turned to face you, taking your other hand is his own and leaning down, his eyes closed by the time his lips connected with yours. You melted into him, happily kissing back.

          -----

          Several (more) years went by, and you could not be happier. You and Sidon were officially a couple, and although the King was hesitant about your relationship at first, he saw how much joy you brought to Sidon, and that showed in everything he did. He accepted it, much to the further dismay of the council. Also a few of the female Zora who were huge fans of the Prince, but most were simply happy that he was happy. Sort of…

          -----

          “(Y/N), my beloved! You’ve returned! How was your trip?” The Prince asked when he reunited with you, sweeping you off your feet as he enveloped you in a hug.

          “Hot. Cold. I always forget the extremes of the Gerudo Desert until I inevitably return for some supplies. I’m just glad my contact is still willing to trade on my behalf. Anyway, let me drop off some things and I’ll meet you back in your room.” You punctuated this with a quick kiss to Sidon’s hand as he let you go.

          He was more than excited that you were back, not because you’ve been gone for a couple of weeks, but because he had been planning something special to mark your next anniversary, which takes place just a few days from today. The two of you have been through a lot since you got together, you more than him with how the council acts, but it bothered him more than you, funnily enough. Especially when they tried to convince him that conceiving a future heir was more important than love and happiness.

          Which got him thinking…

          -----

          Part 2: TBD