#Aile rather to just...kill and not to get the situation drags for long

[modelxis]

Funny how i used to not care much about Vent but now he is like a precious boy to me (still want to bully him tho)

While i'm keep coming up with random shit to set up Aile's villian arc

Vent is such a ray of sunshine, man. Like, sure, typical shounen protagonist that determined to overcome anything but still wild how he doesn't have the same existential crisis like Aile was.

Aile: don't you fucking feel cheated that Giro basically lied to you??? He just straight up dump it on me!

Vent: i believe in boss :)) beside, not everyboy trust me :((

Aile: WHY everyone keep being shit to you!?

----

Good boy Vent is always eager to help everyone, free of charge while Aile trying not to choke Flueve for charging them to fix biometals despite how extremely important it is to use them against the foes.

Aile is capable of rizzing everyone up, but they rarely keep a relationship steady, unlike Vent, who can be too much (sensitive and quick to action), yet because of those traits that he can make better connections (this headcanon is...not concrete tho? Considering how determined Aile was to help Prairie in the Zx gigamix)

[honestsycrets]

Claim his Queen I

Masterlist

Gif credit: (?)

A/N: Part one I suppose. I’m not altogether sure of the direction I’m taking this piece. More of a Beauty and the Beast it seems. Sverri x Reader x Ivar love triangle, an AU of Irreplaceable where Kitta does not exist.

The room was murky and misty. The white hue filled the room like one he never seen before inside the Seer’s dwelling. He should have known this occasion would be bizarre. The seer had a visitor, a falcon perched on his shoulder as King Ivar the Boneless sat before him, hunched over and shaking. These shakes took ahold of him more and more. No healer could pinpoint the source. It’s not what ails him this visit. He could deal with these shakes that wracked down his increasingly sore bones. There is another thought on his mind.

“Why is it the gods won’t give me children?” Ivar’s hands fell to the loose, fluffy black hair on his head. The seer was chuckling raspily with the thinly veiled air stretched in the room.

“A mare has presented herself to the son of the raven.” The seer is speaking in riddles again, as if Ivar wasn’t frustrated enough to begin with. He can pick through them, sure.

“What mare?” He mumbles. Mares-- symbols of fertility. He had seeded many women the past few weeks. He began to think it wasn’t just the thralls on the receiving end of his rage when he could not fill them like a normal man. A son would be welcome… even if it was from useless thralls. Maybe it was him, maybe he was the one that couldn’t give sons. It grew him more and more bitter by the day.

“Under the wide branches of a cold tree, Ivar, you’ll find a mare of Freyja who will bear you many foals. Until then, none shall pass out of Frigg’s hands.” The seer laughs shallowly, falling over to breathe in raspy puffs of air. Ivar shakes behind his dark hood-- finding the realization smacks him in the face.

A mare of Freyja? (Y/N) Faksidottir. It had to be her.

On the opposite side of the spectrum, you were in the Great Hall of Sverri’s iced lands. The land here was cold and harsh, relying on exports of goods from the hunt and those of fingers that could weave. It was reaching the end of winter and you were gladdened for it. Well, mostly.

“I bled again, Sverri.”

Your hands shift shamefully along your stomach, eyes low as you sat on your marital bed beside your new husband. You had been married for all but a few months. This new place with dark woods and silvery white furs began to feel like home. As Sverri’s queen, you knew what your duties were: to supply him with many sons. The young king turns his face to you, deep brown strands waving in front of his almond shaped eyes. He looks over to you with a light smile on his slender lips as if something weighs heavily on his mind.

“In its time, we can’t rush such things…” His words run off. His hands drift up into his hair as he moves to pace through the room. Then a quiet comes over him. You notice that his frantic shaking isn’t limited to his body. No, he is shaking so harshly a thin veil of sweat has come over his body.

“What is wrong--” You follow him, finding that he would sit you back down onto his bed.

“He… he wants you.” Sverri’s breath sounds as if whomever this ‘he’ is, he has swiped words from right under Sverri’s tongue.

“My love you’re not making sense.” You tell him as he holds your hands in his. His head bent to meet your eyes clouded in concern.

“Ivar the Boneless.”

“Ubbe’s brother?” You ask, confused. What business did a Ragnarsson have with you? You thought he understood when you rejected his proposal-- but then, what Ragnarsson took denial well?

“Yes. He wants you as his wife.” Sverri watches as the confusion flits over your eyes. Of course you weren’t surprised to be someone’s end goal but in the same breath, given your reputation, you should have known. Faksi had spoken much of the daughter of Freyja-- and those far and wide began to see you as something more than the average princess you much rather be. They spoke of how Sverri wasn’t meant for you.

Now you did not personally know Ivar. You knew that he was known to be ruthless from your last visit to Kattegat. The people lamented that his lack of a proper queen left him harsh and hateful.  Still, you knew the gods favoured him and Sverri’s family had fallen out of favour long ago. There was a reason he was a king.

The gods put kings in, the gods took Kings out.

“You won’t survive fighting him.” You look down to your hands. “Let him have me.”  

Sverri jerks his head away at that prospect. “No.” He snaps in a rare flash of anger. “I would die before I let a man like that have you. He is insane.”

But he didn’t want to hurt you. Ivar the Boneless wanted your body. What use were you to him dead? Sverri doesn’t see it the same. You already know that. You know full and well what Ivar intends to do with you.

When you last visited Ivar, your father lamented to you the situation Ivar was in. Many men were saying that the king could not fill a woman. You almost fell into that talk, hoping to help the king with his own dilemma through marriage when he proposed to you. That day, you nearly took the offer. If Faksi hadn’t explained that the other offer came from a quiet king by the name of Sverri Askteillsson. The same man who comforted you about being used by the eldest of Aslaug’s sons.

“All he wants is children. If.. he hasn’t had luck thus far, it is for a reason.” You take Sverri’s hand and pull him down to sit beside you. “He would be a good ally.”

Sverri is jarred. “I am not going to divorce you. To ally myself at the price of your womb?”

You sigh a bit harder at that, curling your hands up in your lap. “I am suggesting I marry him as my second husband. Besides, if the other women he sleeps with have not fallen pregnant, why would I?”

His jaw knits tight. Something in his heart told him it wouldn’t be the case… but you were right. Sverri had no choice. Either he gave into Ivar voluntarily-- or he would wage war.

Ivar’s heathen army was knocking down Sverri’s small kingdom.

In comparison to Kattegat and the surrounding kingdoms, Sverri’s lands were minute. They were cold and icy, lacking of any warmth with dark trees that extended any which way. The trees here were massive and said to house Yggdrasil itself. That was why Sverri’s lands flew the great tree upon forest green banner outside the port where Ivar’s fleet had blocked any imports.

Ivar was witty-- because a portion of his army sat outside the lands on the opposite side port where slim farmers lived. They were in distress. That distress caused Sverri distress, written in his brow as Sverri complentated his options. The troops he set outside of his walls were decimated. Ivar the Boneless was closing in.

“You know we have to. Our people are starving.” You sat beside him.

Your cheeks were painted in dusty white smashed pearl, glistening your natural beauty. Sverri looks towards you, admiring your beautiful updo pinned with pearls. Faksi was coming but even Sverri knew the sort of army Ivar had.

If he came here to claim you, he was going to.

“I called him for an audience. A good portion of his army will come into our walls.”

The words crack out from his pale pink lips. He’s grown a dark stubble across his jawline. He called it stress. You lean out over the chair, stroking your hand over his handsome jaw.

“It’s never a shame to admit defeat.” You encourage him. But it doesn’t feel so. It feels as if Ivar was ripping you away from his fingers just as he sought some peace out to make children with you.

“It’s not the Viking way. I should have been able to protect you.” Sverri drinks ale from his horn. It’s but minutes later that there is a sounding of a horn-- a haze of the sun past the parting of scattered clouds. The Great Hall fills with shields of the deepest red spiraled in black. You inhale sharply, bringing your hands back to your lap. One could hear a pin drop in the Great Hall, if not for your breathing hitching and dropping to the sound of a heavy crutch beating the wood floors.

Thump, thump, thump.

You’re not sure if it’s his crutch of your heart that makes those noises. Your head bends to the ground as the figure approaches, hooded in black. He comes to a stop, slipping the helmet off of his head. Tightly packed rows of braids mark his head. A deep burn, searing the inside of your stomach bids you to look up. Instantaneously you regret the decision. His eyes, clear as they were, struck deep into your heart like the most rageful of storms. They glisten with victory.

“Sverri.” His head bobs as he abandons his crutch, falling to the steps. He drags himself like a prowling animal, arms like massive paws dragging himself to Sverri’s throne. He flicks his head in the opposite direction. Get out-- his head says. After all. He was, in fact, the guest. Sverri makes a growling noise as he stands. Ivar replaces him, hands stroking the deep wood of his throne.

“Ah and why are you hanging your head. Hm?” Ivar drags his scarf down from just under his eyes.

“Don’t think I don’t know why you’re here.” You say.

“Why do you think that is?” Ivar toys with you like a mouse after his prey. It serves to only anger you further.

“You know we have little. That is why you did not come to speak in private.” You begin. Little-- but everything you needed. It irks you to know that Ivar came here with reason. “You came for me. For the prophecy of the seer… because of my reputation.”

A rich chuckle slips of his lips and Ivar slips his hand out to offer it to you. He all but ignores the rightful King, whose eyes are downcast and lips tight. Sverri had no place in his own home anymore and he knows it. Good. That is what Ivar wants and craves.

“Ah, yes. I’ve come to steal beautiful mare of Freyja!” Ivar roars out like a beast. A cacophony of his soldiers fill the shaking walls of the Great Hall as the men beat their shields in pride of their king. “And of course, to kill your king.” Ivar glides his bloodied hands over your knuckles.

“You’ll do no such thing.” You snap your hand back from his grip. Ivar is almost jarred, used to sycophantic worship of his men and women that loved their king. You are sure of that much when you pull to a stand, your silvery skirts tight in your knuckles tight with tension.

“I will reject you. As Frigg as my only, holy witness I will promise that to you, Boneless. If you kill my husband, I will never give myself to you willingly. And I promise you… no matter what you do to me. I am a free woman.” You say. The burn must have roiled in Ivar’s gut from the shock that slaps over his face. Half in wonder and excitement, but the other deathly enraged by your daring to step up to him.

A surge of amusement boils in his chest. “Why should I care?” He asks. As if the gods had not forbidden the harsh treatment of women.

You shift to take your husband’s hand. Sverri, whose lips knit tight, glance down to the weaving of your hands together. You throw Ivar a side-eyed look. One that bleeds confidence even if you felt as if you would fall apart from the murderous gaze that glints in his eye.

“Because I am the only mare who can give you your sons.”

Now, Ivar was truly ready to address his queen in private.

@nikkipea @igetcarriedawaywithyou , @kylobien , @titty-teetee , @breathlessouls , @nejijjeoroo , @bcat1291 , @readsalot73 , @mslothbrok (no mix), @romanchronicles, @ailucascen , @michaeliskindahot , @concretewaywardangel, @directionlessbuthappy , @hizz-hizz-mothertruckerz , @some-blondes-unicorn , @atequila, @rekdreams247 , @ivarswonderlust , @writingeverynowand-then , @hp-hogwartsexpress , @minarawr , @haliannej, @strangunddurm , @cbouvier23 , @peachesnpisces , @elenawrit , @equalstrashflavoredtrash, @roxxck , @ilvebeenabad , @vikingsmania , @the-geeky-engineer , @huntingbears , @my-little-wolfe , @mitchiri-nek0 , @seize-the-droid , @Certifiedpoison, @hotshotstar , @a-writers-dreams , @quaint-and-curious-being, @ivarthotbrok ,  @mitchiri-nek0 , @salimahbicharara-comun, @captstefanbrandt, @alicedopey , @imagine-this-motherfucker, @zoetrope1997 , @kingniazx , @lost-and-wandering-alone , @amandaseibaek , @queenmissfit  , @calaena-banrion , @memememememe1-blog , @lost-and-wandering-alone , @rubyquartzshades   , @naaladareia, @lisinfleur , @abwrites, @zueserra, @mintandfigs, @AzmentineDaWinters, @mimi334545, @lovingeb, @akamaiden, @sam-draws, @dorned, @looneytunes20033 , @givemesmutorgivemedeath, @xivarx, @ethereallysimple, @imamom-makingadifference, @sunlightdaniel, @lif3snotouttogetyou, @hallowed-heathen, @that-darling-babygirl, @tierneygonzalez, @neeadinghugs , @funmadnessandbadassviking, @astertist, @Natmors, @tephi101 @mixedwiththemoon, @dmv49, @imavulcanatheart, @abwrites, @nina2697, @feistybaby , @iconicvaleria, @shanetoo, @youcancallmeladyjoker, @aleeece17

[firebirdsdaughter]

Random Writing Tidbit Hmmm...

... ‘Easier to write for Geiz’ I say.

SO WHY IS THIS LONGER?

Actually, this was pretty hard to write. I went back through and edited a couple times, so if there’s weird phrasing, I may have deleted something and then not quite corrected it.

Also... Well, the other one came out before episode 16, and this one is after, so there’s... Slight differences in tone, I guess would be the best way to say it. I suppose you’ll see if you read it.

Well, I’ll just throw it down here, then. It’s not that great, either. But if I went and wrote it might as well put it where people can read it if they like.

Alternatively known as Part Sougo.

For a moment—probably less, actually—everything was frozen.

Sougo’s movements were jerky and slow as he tried to get his bearings after hitting the ground, spinning around to look for who had pushed him, even though he already knew.

Even when it was calling out a word as foreign to it as his name, he knew that voice. He knew before he even finished turning who it was, the panic rising in his chest—far faster than anything else was moving—bursting fourth in a terrified cry;

“Geiz!”

Geiz didn’t move; because it was barely a second, however long it seemed to Sougo. The other Rider’s head was cocked slightly to the side, like he, too, was genuinely surprised by what he had just done—which made sense. Though their relationship had drastically changed,  lost the majority of its hostility, Sougo had never even dreamed Geiz would ever go this far for him—though perhaps that was because this situation would have fit better into nightmares than dreams.

One of his arms drags itself up through the thickness of his slowed perception, even the fingertips stretching out. If he could just grab onto Geiz’s arm, his hand, something, pull him down, too, then maybe…

Maybe he could save his friend.

And maybe he was imagining it, but in that slow, elongated moment, he’d swear that Geiz’s arm twitched upwards, reaching back towards him, without hesitation.

And then in a roar of heat and flame, the blast struck. And time returned to normal.

Sparks and smoke filled Sougo’s vision, debris forcing him to duck and cover his head. He heard a thud of something—someone—slamming hard into cement to his left, a sound not that unusual that was somehow horrible when he knew what it was.

He came back up as quickly as he could, casting about. He found Geiz on the ground several paces away, deHenshined, sprawled on his side, far too still for comfort. It was enough to bring his aching legs back to life, to heave himself up and stumble over, dropping onto the ground beside the other Rider like something had let the air out of him, dropping his own transformation. His hands scrambled on Geiz’ shoulders, trying to pull him protectively close and check the damage at the same time.

There was a massive crater in the wall, the force with which Geiz had been thrown into it having destroyed part of the cement, which wasn’t a good sign. There was some comfort—he could feel the other boy’s shallow breathing in his arms, even though it was haphazard, weak, and pained, and he didn’t think anything was broken. But it also felt like Geiz was trembling—even shivering—against him. There was blood in his mouth, and smearing from numerous other gashes and grazes—from when he’d hit the wall and ground, Sougo assumed—and masses of nasty burns from where the fire had made contact. When he lay a hand against the back of Geiz’s head while cradling it to his shoulder, the palm came away wet and red, blood clotting in the other Rider’s hair. He must have slammed his head into the wall when he was knocked out of his transformation. This was even worse.

It was wrong, too. Geiz felt small and fragile in his arms, shaking even while unconscious, breathing laboured. Not only was he taller than Sougo, but his steadfast personality always rejected and masked anything that might even possibly be construed as weakness. Ordinarily, he would never consent to being cradled wounded in anyone’s arms, especially Sougo’s—but now his eyes gave no sign of opening, and the only change in his expression were faint, unconscious winces.

But that was why he’d known he could trust Geiz right from the start. Not necessarily to be nice to him or not take a swing at him, but to be honest with him. Lying or deceiving were things Geiz was completely incapable of—Sougo was pretty sure he didn’t even know the meaning of the words. He could not and would not pretend to be other than what he was; true, honourable, earnest. Good. Too good to kill a person in cold blood when he actually thought about it, why most of his attempts never seemed to go through, or even have the same murderous intent as their original meeting.

Despite repetitive threats, the more time they’d spent together, the less enmity had been behind them. Though the other boy’s difficult life had made him uncertain and even afraid of showing any sentiment whatsoever, Sougo had even begun to suspect that Geiz actually liked him—liked him enough to risk forgoing the most direct route to save the future, probably the only even remotely selfish thing Geiz had ever done.

When he’d found out he was right, in a way, it was just as exciting as reaffirming him dreams—maybe even more so, though if he ever said that to Geiz he knew the other boy would immediately panic and flee the room—because he was very clear on how faithful a friend he’d finally made. Woz had once claimed that Tsukuyomi and Geiz weren’t on his side—he supposed that had been true when Woz actually said it, but now… Now he was reasonably Tsukuyomi and Geiz were the only ones who were actually on his side. On Tokiwa Sougo’s side. Not Ouma Zi-O’s—like Woz himself, or Kisshan. On the side of the person he was now, of the king he wanted to be, not a twisted version already decided for him. And he knew he could rely on them. Sure, Geiz’s trust had been a battle to gain, but once won, his loyalty ran deep.

… Deep enough to throw himself between a fireball and someone he’d originally intended to kill. Perhaps he should have this day coming.

Something moved behind him, and he remembered their opponents were still there. Under usual circumstances, he supposed he could have handled them alone, thought it would have been painful. But Geiz being out of commission—and possibly concussed, bleeding internally, or worse, noted a voice in his head that really loved to make things even better—made him a target, and Sougo didn’t think he could fight that hard and protect his friend at the same time. So instead, he fumbled for his Bike Watch, activating it as quickly as possible. Trying to leverage Geiz as gently as he could, he heaved the wounded Rider up and loaded him onto the back of the bike, scrambling on himself and hitting the gas. He didn’t know were they were going or how long he could drive, but it was the only option without the Time Majins on hand, especially as he heard other engines rev behind them.

So he drove, shifting slightly so that he could feel Geiz’s heartbeat, ailing and small, but still just barely noticeable, through his back.

And prayed that Tsukuyomi would find them first.

Yeah. Not great. But here it is.

Kinda wonder if the first fifteen-sixteen eps were loosely about the trio figuring themselves and their relationship out and establishing their position. They’re a unit now, and I feel like they all better understand how they feel about each other. Like, ‘yeah, okay, maybe we actually do care about each other.’ Kinda wondering if they’re gonna have a sort of ‘us against the world’ mentality? Like, Woz (well, original Woz) we know is on Puma Zi-O’s side, the Time Jackets are on their own side... I feel like the Zi-Ot3 is gonna establish their own side? Like the ‘create your own future’ message seems to have been rather strong?

I mean, we seem to be starting some kind of ‘Woz Arc’ next ep, so we’ll see where that goes. Actually this thought I had was that if New Woz comes from an alternate timeline where Sougo is a ‘good king’ (still not sure ‘king’ is gonna end up actually meaning ‘king who rules stuff’), and the upcoming arc is how those two timelines are gonna clash? But I think in the end we’re gonna end up w/ a third, sort of merged timeline, or something.

Did... Did any of that make any sense?

[imagine-loki]

Taming the rage

TITLE: Taming the Rage

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 45

AUTHOR: lokilover9

Original Imagine: Imagine Odin tells Loki that he has to marry and it’s you. You’ve hated him for years. Every time he sees you in the palace he smirks knowing all the duties you’ll have to perform as his princess, making you cringe. He isn’t exactly fond of you either, but can’t help looking forward to the challenge.

RATING: Teen

On the third day of Loki’s trip, he and Jarles caught a couple of decent sized hares. Loki had gone for a swim after and Jarles went to skin and prepare them for cooking.

Buldur was gathering some rocks nearby to place amidst the fire so he could put a grate over them and boil some potatoes, when Loki approached him. “What are you doing man, attempting another injury? Allow me.”

After Loki dressed, they sat together and peeled the potatoes. “So you’ve been friends with Jarles for many years?” He asked.

“Yes we met as soldiers, centuries ago.”

“Ah. How did you become so interested in the outdoors?”

“My father loved it. He used to take my two brothers and I camping on a regular basis.”

“And your Mother?”

Buldur shook his head. “Once, but that was enough. She hated it.”

“I’ve thought of inviting Erika to camp, but I really can’t see her enjoying it much either.”

Buldur chuckled. “Most women don’t take well to not having access to hot running water and their other daily amenities.”

“I agree, but still. Erika’s tough and I believe she’d do well to thrive in the worst of situations if she really needed to. I just don’t see her as a big outdoors type.”

“Very true.” Said Buldur. “She already has through one. The loss of Asta was devastating to her family and had it not been for yours, I don’t think they would have recovered so well. Jarles is a strong man, but her death almost robbed him of his will to live.”

“I had no idea.” Said Loki.

“How could you have son, you were just a child, but I’ll never forget that day for as long as I live.” He glanced over at Jarles off in the distance and a heavy sigh escaped him.

“I know she passed in a riding accident, but I don’t know anymore than that and I wouldn’t want to ask Erika any details about it.”

“No.” Said Buldur. “Not an easy subject to discuss.”

“Do you know what actually happened?”

“Yes.” Replied Buldur. “Sadly, I do. He and Asta had had an argument over what, I haven’t a clue and she went riding to cool off. He thought nothing of it as she’d done it before and would always return shortly after. When dusk began and she hadn’t, he gathered a few friends on horseback, including myself and we went looking. We’d searched deep into the woods all night calling to her, but received no answer. By sunrise, I had a bad feeling as I knew she would have never stayed away that long. Then it happened and I knew my feeling was right.”

Buldur went quiet and his brow furrowed as he recalled the moment and Loki listened, intently.

“I wasn’t far behind him when I heard the most gut wrenching sound come out of a man that I’ve ever heard in my life. He’d come across her horse at the top of a steep hill and something told him to look over the edge. He saw her legs protruding beneath some bushes and went to her, but it was too late. She was long gone.”

“He found her.” Said Loki. “That’s terrible.”

“Yes it was. When I got to him, he was at the bottom of the hill pacing back and forth with her in his arms, wailing like a broken soul. I couldn’t get him to come up. He just kept pacing with her and it wasn’t until I went to retrieve your father that he finally returned to the palace with her.”

Loki stared at him in disbelief. “My father?”

“Yes.” Replied Buldur. “He willingly ventured to the bottom of that hill and somehow convinced him.”

“What had happened to her?”

“There were many tall and short bushes at the edge of this hill keeping it well hidden.” Said Buldur. “It’s believed the horse spotted it before Asta, stopped abruptly and inadvertently tossed her off. She’d broken her neck in the fall and died instantly.”

Loki sat there, staring at him in shock, then glanced over at Jarles. “Holy fuck.”

Buldur nodded. “That was my thought as well. Please don’t ever repeat this son. I only told you as I thought it important for you to know.”

“I’m glad you did, but why?”

Jarles began approaching and Buldur spoke quieter. “If he was that devastated, imagine what those girls went through. It teaches you a lot about a person’s character.”

A few feet from them Jarles stopped, holding up his gutted and cleaned kills. “Shall we eat gentlemen?” ********** Back at the palace at the end of this same day, Erika had gone for a bath after dinner. Thor seemed unusually quiet and when Jane noticed him staring off into space as Junior tried playing with him, she knew something was up. “Alright, I already dragged it out of a very pensive Erika yesterday what was on her mind, now what’s on yours today?”

Thors eyes widened. “What was ailing her?”

“Just worry about Loki’s time with her father.”

He breathed a small sigh of relief and Jane hands went to her hips. “Now what’s the matter with you?”

He patted the spot on the couch next to him and handed Junior a toy. “Sit down, please my love?”

“My love?” Said Jane. “Sounds serious.”

He kissed her then sighed. “It rather is. My Father informed me today that due to age and exhaustion, he wishes to abdicate the throne.”

Jane’s jaw dropped.

“As soon as Loki and Erika marry, I am to become King.”

“When did he decide this?” She asked.

“Prior to their betrothal. He wanted Loki settled so as not to burden me with choosing him a bride.”

“So their betrothal was forced for that reason?”

“I wouldn’t say ‘forced’ so much as needed in his eyes. Mother explained they were concerned any disagreements between us might ruin our ‘already fragile’ relationship.”

“They’re right about its fragility Thor. It’s taken quite some time for the two of to build any trust in one another again.”

“Yes and now I fear how he may react to this.”

“Why? It’s nothing of your doing.”

“I know, but Loki may not see it that way. There’s always been animosity between us regarding the throne, especially after he learned of his true heritage.”

“You said his betrothal was ‘needed’ according to them. Why?” Asked Jane.

“Mother has known for years of his true feelings for Erika, despite Loki being in denial of them. I learned only today, they were requested betrothed to each other by her Mother long before she died.”

“Did they say why Asta did this?”

“No, but they feel Loki and Erika were meant to be together and strongly believe their union will bring him peace and happiness.”

“What about her Thor? Her entire world was stopped because of this and she wasn’t happy about that at all.”

“Are you aware of how she feels now?” He asked.

“Not extensively. I do believe she’s come to care for him, but with all that’s happened to her recently, she must be more confused than ever about her life.”

“I can imagine. Unfortunately, neither of them has a choice but to remain together. Do you think she could ever love him?”

“I don’t know.” Said Jane. “Do you think he could ever love her?”

“Yes.”

“How can you be so sure?”

He smiled and looked her in the eyes. “Because Jane. He already does.”

Unbeknownst to them, from the moment Thor informed Jane Odin was abdicating, Erika had been listening from a nearby corridor. She hadn’t meant to, but was returning from her bath and stopped dead in her tracks upon hearing this, then couldn’t help but continue. After learning what she had from Frigga and Edgar, then hearing Thors final words, Erika leaned against the wall with a lump in her throat. ‘It’s true.’ She thought. ‘He loves me.’

[kurokoros]

Title: Incandescent | Chapter Four

Rated: T (language/violence)

Summary: There are monsters in the world. Demons that crawl from the blackest pits and breach the Earth, murdering and feasting on the bones of humans. Lucy has spent her entire life training to fight the skeletons in her closet. Natsu has spent his life running from them. Unfortunate circumstances find the pair of them at Saint Katherine’s Academy, a school of black magic and demons. (Monster Hunter!AU)

Word Count: 3100

FF.net | One | Two | Three |

Lucy’s head hits the ground roughly, cracking against the cement hard enough to steal the breath from her lungs and make her see stars. A low whine tears from her throat and she squeezes her eyes shut, biting back a curse as her skull throbs. Above her, Natsu murmurs a quiet word that’s lost in the chaos. Another gun goes off, closer to her this time, and Lucy can only hope that it’s Gajeel and not someone else.

They’ve been having trouble with Ivan for months now. Lucy wouldn’t put it passed him to follow the two of them out here and have them killed while Makarov isn’t around. It’s something he would do, especially if he caught word about them looking for new recruits.

Ivan thinks everything is a declaration of war, never mind that they’re trying to keep people alive.

Though, that always has been a foreign concept to Ivan. He’s never cared about anyone but himself. Not his son, not his sister, not his ailing mother.

An arm slips around Lucy’s back, Natsu lying heavy on top of her as he shields her from whatever’s attacked them. She rolls her eyes and shoves at his chest harshly. He pulls back, frowning down at her. She hooks a leg around his hip, using his surprise to flip the pair of them over so that she’s resting against his hips, a hand braced on his chest, the other going for the knife shoved into the back of her boot.

Below her, Natsu grunts, his hands settling against her thighs. Lucy ignores him, her lips pursing as she glances around the parking lot, looking for whatever it was that attacked them. Nothing moves around them, the shadows still, not a sound coming from the darkness surrounding them. She grits her teeth, flicking open her pocket knife and brandishing it in one hand, already knowing they’re being watched. She can feel eyes on her, waiting.

“Now’s not really the time for that, Bunny.” The gravel crunches as Gajeel steps up beside them, his gaze on the shadows as well, his jaw clenched and gaze focused. There’s a lilt of amusement in his words, but they’re gruffer than usual, a testament to Gajeel’s growing rage. He never has liked surprises.

Lucy glances up at him briefly, slipping off of Natsu’s lap and rising slowly to her feet, dragging him up with her. He comes willingly, only a step away as she grips his arm tighter than she means to. Natsu merely steps closer, until she can see the way his throat bobs and his arms flex, ready for a fight.

She tears her gaze away from him, staring at Gajeel. “What is it?” she asks through clenched teeth, the words coming out as a hiss. She straightens her back, squinting through the darkness. The boys settle on either side of her, also looking to the shadows.

Gajeel doesn’t spare her a glance. “Hellhound,” he snarls back, gun trained in the direction the creature must have run off to.

Lucy frowns, wanting to ask if he’s sure, but knowing Gajeel wouldn’t take kindly to her second guessing him. It’s not that she doesn’t believe him, Gajeel has never given her a reason not to trust him, but Hellhounds are a rare breed. Most don’t allow themselves to be summoned, least of all by dumbass teenagers playing around with witchcraft. Lucy herself has only ever seen one Hellhound summoned, and that was for a class at Saint Katherine’s.

Because Hellhounds aren’t just summoned, they’re sent.

There’s always a purpose for them being there, and usually it’s not a good one. People die when Hellhounds are summoned. It’s why they stopped using them for practice at the school.

“Dammit,” Lucy snarls under her breath, her nails digging into Natsu’s arm roughly, hard enough to leave little crescent shapes against his skin. He doesn’t flinch though, merely glances between her and the shadows. She wonders how much he knows about this world, how much Igneel told him. Hopefully, enough to keep him from getting killed tonight.

She’ll protect him if she can, of course, but she won’t put his life about Gajeel’s, not when he was never supposed to be here in the first place. Lucy would venture to guess that Gajeel wouldn’t save him over her either, less because he doesn’t care about outsiders and more because he cares too much about the ones he does let in.

A low snarl spills from the shadows, a shiver creeping up Lucy’s spine at the low, wicked sound. Gajeel raises his gun, snarling back at the creature, and Natsu swears under his breath, unflinching even as a large, black dog shuffles out of the shadows, snapping and growling at the three of them.

Gajeel glances sideways at her, looking more annoyed than anything else. She can’t be sure if it’s because of the sneak attack or the fact that he didn’t get to finish his crappy dollar store sandwich, and frankly she doesn’t care much.

“Do you remember the incantation to dispel it?” he asks, low and gravely, gaze shifting between her and the Hellhound, who’s just staring at them, snuffling at the ground and growling at them, but otherwise ignoring them completely.

Lucy frowns, feeling something off about the situation, but she shakes the thought away. Even if the Hellhound isn’t attacking them, it doesn’t mean the beast won’t attack anyone else. They need to handle this before anyone gets hurt or worse.

She wets her lips. “I think so,” she finally tells him, gazing curiously at the black dog. It’s shaggy, lupine in the face and as large as a horse, but it’s hardly paying them any attention. Lucy knows that if it wanted to kill them, they’d all be dead by now. It’s just waiting through, practically ignoring them.

She can tell that Gajeel doesn’t like it, but she figures that has more to do with him being a dog person than it does the Hellhound ignoring them. All things considered, that’s rather good luck. They could already be dead by now, but they aren’t.

Gajeel snarls at her suddenly, catching the dog’s attention quickly. “You think?” Gajeel snaps, more frustrated than angry. It grates on her nerves more than she’d like to admit. He means well, but he’s also being a dick. There’s really no winning when it comes to him, she learned that a long time ago.

“I’m a bit rusty on hell beasts,” she tells him, rolling her eyes as best she can without looking away from the black dog. It blinks back at her, tongue lolling, and then leaps towards them.

Gajeel swears something awful and grabs her by the back of her shirt, practically throwing her at Natsu. The pair of them hit the ground hard, Lucy on top of him, and she sees Gajeel dive in the other direction as the beast lands where they were just standing. It howls, long and low, then bounds off into the shadows, drool dripping from it’s jaws as it snaps at the air where they were just standing.

Natsu hooks an arm around her waist, hauling her up with him as he stands, but says nothing. Gajeel glares after the dog, teeth bared threateningly. She doubts it will do anything to scare it off, but she doesn’t tell him this.

He looks over at her, scowling. “Well, maybe you should practice more,” he tells her scathingly, something bitter dripping from his tongue.

Lucy rips herself away from Natsu and stomps towards her friend. Gajeel, for his part, doesn’t back down, simply glares right back at her. He’s crossed a line and he knows it, they both do, but Gajeel is too stubborn to apologize and Lucy doesn’t have the patience to forgive and forget. It puts them at an impasse, and that’s a dangerous thing for hunters. They never know when they’re going to die, so it’s best not to hold grudges.

She grabs him by the front of the shirt, dragging him down to her level.

“Gajeel,” she snarls in his ear, low and warning. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t move, though his free hand clenches into a tight fist. She forces him to meet her eyes, watches as something like an apology stirs in his gaze. She doesn’t care. “I will take that gun and shove it straight up your ass, so help me—”

A throat clears behind her, cutting her off, and Lucy twists on her heel, glaring at Natsu. He looks almost sheepish, but also confused and more than a little angry. “What the hell was that?” he asks them, glancing between them rapidly. His eyes stop on her, imploring, and Lucy bites her lower lip, not sure what to say.

Her job was to bring him back to Makarov and let him explain, that was it. She’s not supposed to be dealing with this crap, least of all in the middle of a damn fight. Natsu’s eyes are honest, though, and they make her pause. He deserves to know what he’s getting into. It’s more of a choice than Lucy ever got, and she knows this all must be horrible for him, the not knowing, the monsters in the dark.

She takes a deep breath, stepping away from Gajeel slowly.

Gajeel speaks before she can, snorting at Natsu, his shoulders shaking with a sarcastic laugh. “Oh, great!” he spits, his smile bitter as he glares at Natsu. “The civilian’s trying to be helpful.” His snark isn’t appreciated and they all know it, but Lucy doesn’t have the energy to get angry with him again so soon.

Instead, she grits her teeth and swallows down her anger. “He can fight,” she reminds Gajeel. They both know he can. Lucy also knows that that’s not nearly enough. His fists won’t save him in a fight like this, but at least it’s something. They could have been dealt a worse hand against a Hellhound, could have left the gun behind or could have been killed already.

But they’re alive and that’s what matters. They can handle a black dog from Hell. They’ve done so before, if only once in a controlled environment. Lucy managed to send it back then, and she can do it again.

Gajeel isn’t nearly as optimistic. He snorts, rolling his eyes, practically glaring at Natsu over her head. “Yeah, a couple street fighters,” he agrees, smiling though it isn’t friendly at all, “not a damn Hellhound.” For some reason, Gajeel laughs, his shoulders quaking, and then he lets out a short, amused bark. “We’re all going to die out here,” he murmurs, more defeated than she’s ever heard him.

Lucy bites her lip and looks away, her shoulders drooping as she curls her arms around herself, squeezing tightly. She never should have let him come with her, should have just told Makarov “no” and damned the consequences. Makarov wouldn’t have been happy with her, but at least Gajeel wouldn’t be in this mess.

She wanted to help him out, let him make up for the last mission, not get him killed.

Natsu tenses, his lips pulling back over his teeth as he glares at Gajeel. The fighter takes a step forward, straightening to his full height. He towers over her, but is still several inches short of matching Gajeel. This, however, doesn’t seem to bother him in the slightest. What Natsu lacks in height he certainly makes up for in raw determination. He locks eyes with Gajeel, not threatening, but not friendly either. “I’ve got this,” he says lowly, hand drifting down to the hem of his shirt and yanking it upwards, revealing a shiny, silver pistol tucked beneath his waistband.

It gleams in the darkness, pale against his tanned skin, and Lucy finds herself unable to look away from the sliver of skin revealed at his hip, gaze locked on the gun that she hadn’t noticed before. A shiver runs down her spine, and she glances up at him almost nervously.

Gajeel looks almost impressed though. Almost. It’s there in the quirk of his brow and the slight gleam in his eyes. Other than that, his expression doesn’t change. Still pissed. Still frustrated. Still unbelievably pessimistic.

Her gaze snaps back to Natsu, to the gun, and she swallows thickly, chewing the inside of her cheek. She can hear the Hellhound circling them, pacing just out of sight, but near enough to let them know he’s still there. She wonders if it’s a threat or if it’s toying with them. Possibly a bit of both. Either way, she’s almost more concerned with the gun than she is the dog.

Demons she can handle.

“What were you planning on doing with that?” she asks him gently, suspicion in her tone. She’s not usually one for mistrust, but there’s something off about bringing a gun to a meeting, especially considering he thought she would be alone. Maybe her perception was off after all.

Natsu wets his lips, holding her gaze. “Nothing,” he tells her quietly, voice low as Gajeel takes a step away from them, trying to pinpoint the circling Hellhound as best as he can. Natsu swallows thickly, pulling the gun from his waist and letting his shirt drop back down. “I wasn’t planning on doing anything.”

She believes him.

“Lucy!” Gajeel snaps, drawing her attention back to him. He stares out into the darkness, teeth pulling at one of the two rings in his lip. She stares back, waiting for him to speak. “What do we have?” he asks suddenly, looking at her only briefly.

It takes her a moment to understand what he means. Lucy frowns, then begins looking around the area for anything they might have on hand. “Two guns,” she tells him, “a knife, a half-eaten ham sandwich.” Gajeel shoots her a nasty look, but says nothing is response. “Cellphones,” she continues, pausing when she catches sight of her car several yards away, “a car if we can get to it.” She mumbles the last part, but he hears her anyway.

It would be risky, making a run for the car, but it could also buy them time if they really need it. It’s better than being out in the open like this.

Gajeel isn’t nearly as excited about the list as she is. “How is the car going to help us?” he asks her, snorting. If it were any other time, she would rip that condescending look right off his face, but now isn’t the time.

She loves Gajeel, she really does, but sometimes she wants to toss him out of a very high window and watch him fall. Not high enough to kill him, but just enough to leave a couple of decent bruises. Lucy supposes that’s cruel of her, but she also knows that Gajeel wouldn’t respect her if she was easy on him.

“Well,” Lucy starts, frustration clear in her tone. Her words drip with venom and she sees the boys exchange a nervous look. Good, she thinks, let them be afraid. Lucy may not be physically stronger than either of them, but she damn well knows that she can be twice as intimidating if she wants to. At the academy, most people have learned not to piss her off if they can help it. “Do you have a translation book in the car?” she asks her friend, smile tight, more teeth than anything.

The only reason she bothers to ask is because hers seems to have disappeared from her room. On the off chance that Gajeel tossed the damn thing in her car she might be able to get them out of this mess quicker than anticipated. It’s a long shot, but they don’t have many good options.

Gajeel looks at her like she’s sprouted a second head, then laughs. “Hell no!” His shoulders shake as he tries to compose himself, but it’s futile. Gajeel isn’t one for laughing in desperate situations unless he’s being ironic, but when he really starts laughing it’s hard to get him to stop. “You know I don’t study that shit,” he grumbles between snorts of laughter, seemingly amused at her suggestion.

Oh, she definitely does. Gajeel certainly isn’t being kept around for his prowess when it comes to anything that requires finesse. Latin studies, charms, summons, Gajeel is as useless is about as useless with them as they come. He’s more of the “hack and slash beat it until it’s dead” type. He’s the muscle, if only because he can’t do much else. Actually, that’s unfair of her to say. He’s better at classifications than most. He can name nearly every type of demon right down to the smallest subclass, and that’s certainly nothing to sneeze at.

Unfortunately, that particular skill isn’t going to do shit for them right now.

She sends him a thin-lipped smile, “Well maybe you should start.” There’s poison in her words and Gajeel turns to her and snarls, practically hissing at her.

“Hey!” Natsu barks, drawing their attention to him. He gives a sharp nod with his chin, gesturing to something in front of them. “If you two are done fighting, maybe we should pay attention to the giant dog.”

The pair glance passed him, watching as the dog creeps out of the shadows. Lucy chews her lip roughly, shoulders going tense. The weapons are useless to them. Her knife is steel and so are Gajeel’s bullets, and she doubts Natsu would be carrying around iron bullets with him.

They hadn’t thought to pack for a demon, not tonight. The bullets might slow it down, but they won’t stop the Hellhound. Lucy needs to check the car for her book. If she can find the right incantation, she can send it back and they’ll all be on their way.

She needs that damn book.

“Distract it,” she tells Gajeel, flicking her knife closed and shoving it back into her boot.

He frowns down at her, going very still suddenly. “What are you going to do?” It’s more of a demand than a question. There’s a flicker of something nervous in his gaze, and for a moment she thinks he might grab her.

Lucy wets her lips. “Something stupid.”

She turns on her heel before either boy can stop her and bolts towards the car. Behind her, Gajeel screams her name, absolute horror in his tone, but she doesn’t stop, just keeps running. There’s a snarl, then cursing and shouting. She’s only made it a dozen feet when the dog gives chase, growling and snapping at her.

[lerche93hayes-blog]

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