#Court of Midnight and Deception

[haveyoureadthisfantasybook]

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[angelsfat3]

ꮩ, 性玩具。 ⸻[midnight practices...]

Genre: smut, teacher's pet, coach!Sunghoon x iceskater!Malereader.

C/w: Sunghoon being possessively perverted, feminization, bottom reader, fingering, oral (sunghoon giving). － Tw: Curses, manipulation, victimization, crying.

A/N: I don't consider myself the best at writing smut, so that's why this is so simple.

╰╾ I still haven't finished writing the stories that I have planned to upload in a few days.

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The sound of skates scraping the ice echoed across the empty rink as you completed the last lap, your cheeks and nose completely red from the cold. Your breathing was heavy and your muscles burned from the effort, but there was something else weighing on his mind.

Sunghoon, your coach, was watching you from the edge, ogling you from the warm-up, his gaze seeming to pierce the ice and get right to you.

As you headed to the locker room, you felt the chill of the air on his hot skin. As you took off your jacket and gloves, you heard the door open and close behind you.

Sunghoon had entered, his presence always imposing, his figure casting a shadow that covered everything.

"You did a good job today," Sunghoon said, his voice soft, almost like a whisper. There was a certain intensity in his gaze, a hunger that you had learned to recognize and fear.

“Thank you, hyung,” you responded with a smile, trying to keep your voice steady. But your hands were shaking slightly as you removed the protections and slowly sat down on the wood bench.

Sunghoon approached slowly, his expression changing to a warm smile, but his eyes were those of a wolf stalking its prey. "[...], there is something I have wanted to tell you." His hand reached out, caressing one of your cheeks, before sliding up to your neck.

"What is it?" you asked, looking up to meet his eyes, you searched for a way to ignore the electric shock that Sunghoon's touch sent through your body.

You knew you should pull away, that you should say no, but something in you craved that forbidden touch, his lips kissing every part of your body would always be your favorite sin.

Sunghoon tilted his head, intensifying his gaze, fixated on you. "I've noticed you're distracted lately," he commented, his tone deceptively gentle."Your performance on the court has gone down. And I know it's because of that little friend of yours who's done using you."

You gulped, your defenses slowly crumbling, while he sounded worried, his words weren't the best. Sunghoon always knew how to get inside your head, how to find your weak points, in every sense of the word. "Yeah, it's been kind of hard..." you admitted, looking down.

Sunghoon smiled, a gesture that felt more predatory than sympathetic. "I know what you need, [...]. You need to forget all that. You need to stop worrying about things that don't matter." He said passing his knee between your legs, making you open them easily.

“But hyung, I'm not sure this is right,” you said as you noticed his growing erection, your voice shaky as you fought the desire to surrender to Sunghoon's touch. "Maybe I should leave before... before something else happens."

You didn't want to admit it, but you felt like with every encounter, something was pushing you closer to falling in love with him, something you knew shouldn't happen.

"Do you want to leave?" Sunghoon interrupted you, his tone more like a challenge than a question. "Fine, but then you won't be coming back again and I doubt you want that, [...]"

The words hit you like a slap. The possibility of losing everything you had built terrified you more than anything, and Sunghoon knew it. "No, I don't want that," you finally muttered, your resistance breaking.

Sunghoon leaned in, bringing his face closer to yours to the point where your lips were constantly brushing, pressing a soft but insistent kiss against your lips.

His skillful hands began to work, slipping under your shirt and slowly lifting it up, setting it to your side, enjoying every centimeter of skin that he was revealing with his fingertips.

"I'm not just doing this because I want to help you, [...]," he said between kisses, his lips moving with calculated precision, biting your lower lip between moments. "I do it because I love you and because you're mine."

You closed your eyes, trying to block out the words as you lightly rested your hands on his shoulders, Sunghoon's touch stronger than your will. "But...what about your wife? s-she's pregnant" you tried to protest, though your voice sounded weak even to your own ears.

Sunghoon let out a soft laugh, a sound that was not entirely pleasant. "She has nothing to do with us. This moment is ours alone," he stated, his voice confident as his hands moved to your pants, decisively tearing them and your underwear apart, getting rid of them in one swift motion.

Sunghoon began to mark his way up your neck, then down to your bare chest, marking his territory with hot kisses and small bites on your nipples. A couple of gasps took over your mouth, your body responding to every touch, every whispered word Sunghoon said in your ear.

His fingers focused on caressing and squeezing your nipples, while he was in charge of kissing and noticeably marking your neck, the most sensitive areas of you. You could only moan unconsciously near his ear as you looked for a way to push him, with your eyes closed.

As soon as you regained your senses and sight, you saw your teacher on his knees, running his hands over your waist briefly.

Sunghoon was lowering his lips past your belly, his hands were firm, separating your legs in the best way, leaving your semi-erect cock in view, With the skill of a master who knows his apprentice well, he let out a soft laugh. "Do you realize how perfect you are because of me?" Sunghoon whispered as his lips grazed the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, planting searing kisses that left a trail of heat in their wake. "Let me enjoy what I've harvested, okay?

You couldn't help but let out a moan when Sunghoon continued his exploration, lowering his head slightly just to lick your balls, his mouth moving towards your member quickly, almost instantly enveloping your glans with his lips.

The feeling of his tongue moving in circles against your tip sent waves of pleasure through your body, causing your little flesh to finish erecting, releasing a bit of precum.

Sunghoon used his tongue skillfully, the way he put your member inside his mouth was making you go blank, Your hands were squeezing the wood of the bench and your stomach only knew how to contract from the sensation.

Every movement was calculated, every touch measured to elicit maximum pleasure, like an artist who knows exactly how to pluck each string to pluck the perfect note.

Unexpectedly, Sunghoon laid you down on the bench, giving him greater access to your body. Without wasting any time, he inserted two of his fingers inside you without warning, pretending it was his big meat by the way he started pounding into you.

Tears began to flood your eyes and begin to overflow down your cheeks, the way he moved his head up and down and his tongue moved in a circular motion at the same time, one of his hands gently massaging your balls and the other sinking to the depths of you, managing to caress your sweet spot with his middle finger, it was what had you writhing on the bench.

Your back was arched and your moans were muffled, you were nowhere near reaching your first orgasm, you were so close that it had you rolling your eyes.

In a matter of seconds Sunghoon stopped, retreating slightly with an enigmatic smile. You gasped in discontent, your body shaking from a mix of frustration and unfulfilled desire. “Hyung, please…” you begged, your voice so broken with longing and crying.

"First you tell me you don't want this, and now you're begging me like a fucking cock whore. Who understands you?" Sunghoon asked, his eyes shining with a mixture of superiority and cruel delight. "No matter how much you try to hide it, [...], you will always like to have me around. You ask for it just with the way you look at me."

While you were struggling to breathe, you were searching for the words necessary to excuse the reason for your prayers towards him, but you only remained speechless when you felt his fingers enter suddenly, again pretending that these were his fat member, which you never missed after each practice.

Your body lay caught in a storm of sensations as Sunghoon teased your hole and cock, giving you pleasure but denying you the relief you so desperately needed.

The torture continued when, as he moved his tongue over your tip, he made thrusts with his fingers, moving them like scissors near your innocent spot. Time seemed to stop as your teacher kept you on edge, his words full of manipulation, love and hate echoing in your head.

Finally, when you thought you couldn't take it anymore, Sunghoon intensified his attention. His tongue moved with lethal precision, his lips wrapping around your glans and slowly sinking his head, pressing your tip against the roof of his mouth.

You felt on cloud nine every time you heard his fingers grind hard against your skin and the way he made a kind of hook with his fingers every time he caressed your sweet prostate, Your legs trembled with poverty and your tears constantly slid down your face.

The heat of Sunghoon's mouth and the expert movement of his tongue combined wave after wave of pleasure that spread through every cell of your body, causing you to arch your back and let out a gasp, cumming steadily into his mouth.

Each spasm was a mix of sharp pleasure and painful sweetness, with Sunghoon enjoying the absolute control he had over you, causing spasms that seemed to have no end.

Even after the wave of orgasms had passed, Sunghoon continued to suck, his tongue moving like a wave over every corner of your member, prolonging your hypersensitivity, until your tearful sobs, completely overwhelmed, begged him to stop.

A sly smile formed on the taller man's face, stopping the movement of his fingers and tongue, slowly removing your small dick from his cavity.

When he finally pulled out, Sunghoon wiped the corners of his mouth with a satisfied gesture, wearing the shirt he had taken off you at the beginning, his gaze fixed on you, who lay exhausted and vulnerable on the bench. "I hope that can help you focus tomorrow," Sunghoon said, his voice a mix of authority and disdain. "Don't disappoint me, or I'll have to get another apprentice, and believe me, I really like having this internship with just you, [...]."

You could barely respond with a moan, your mind was completely clouded by the experience, your body continued to shake with post-orgasm.

You stared at nothing, running your hands all over your body, especially over your stomach, watching as Sunghoon stood up and walked away, his footsteps echoing through the empty locker room.

Just before the door closed, you heard a clicking sound, as if Sunghoon had finished recording something.

The idea came to you strongly, filling you with a mixture of fear and vulnerability.

When you were left alone in the silence of the locker room, you finally felt the weight of the situation fall on you. Each encounter with Sunghoon plunged you deeper into an abyss you didn't know how to escape, trapped between desire and guilt.

You had uncertainty digging into your mind, thinking quietly, "What if he's been recording this whole time? What am I going to do if he decides to use it against me?"

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메모 ! 📌ㅤ⸻ㅤ I was having a mental battle, deciding whether to upload it or not. I promise to update more often.

아이디어 !ㅤ⸻ㅤI'm very short of ideas lately, so feel free to leave me any requests! <⁠(⁠￣⁠︶⁠￣⁠)⁠>

All credits to @angelsfat3 / @foschiamara.

[works-of-heart]

Waltz of the Midnight Sun

It's here!

This is a Debut of my full, feature Length Elucien comic! This will be an episodic comic, meaning I'll probably upload once a month and each 'episode' will contain several pages!

Elain has always been different from her two Sisters, Nesta and Feyre Archeron. Since she was a child she had experienced strange visions that had spoken to her in riddles. When her sisters moved to Velaris to be with their Vampire mates, Elain found herself doing her best to fit in. Her life has since then been simple and comfortable, though curiosity to what lies beyond the protections of Velaris and the Night Court call to her. As her visions become stronger leaving her unable to ignore them further, she finds herself in a very curious predicament with a charming and mysterious vampire Lord named Lucien. Elain has broken ancient vampiric code and thanks to Lucien's quick thinking, saves her from facing an ill fate. Unfortunately... it's forced the two of them into a dangerous game of charades. While dealing with the consequences of their actions, both Elain and Lucien work together to unravel the secrets of the courts, unveiling dark plans that will uproot the precious balance of peace they have known for centuries. Can Elain and Lucien continue their dance of deception and save Prythian, or will their charade fall apart and destroy an ancient treaty amongst the vampire courts? Follow the story to find out!

Release date coming soon!!

[a-court-of-mischief-and-madness]

Midnight revelations

Part 4------Part 5

Eris vanserra x rhysand sister reader!

Summary: with the mating bond between her and Eris revealed. Rhysand isn't too happy and asks her to use it to get information out of Eris. After being invited to a ball in the Autumn Court she isn't too sure if she wants to do that anymore.

A/n: sorry for the delay guys, this chapter is a bit short coz it was finals week and I did not get any sleep at all. Hopefully you guys enjoy this one!

Warnings: slight romance, mentions of blood! other than that nothing else.

A few weeks later, the tension in the Night Court was palpable. Rhysand received a note from Beron, summoning him to the Autumn Court. Rhysand, ever wary, gathered his inner circle for the meeting. They all knew Beron rarely summoned anyone without ulterior motives, and his intentions were never benign.

When they arrived at the Autumn Court, Beron was waiting for them, his eyes glittering with malicious delight. Eris stood by his father's side, his expression unreadable, though his eyes flickered with a mix of defiance and resignation.

"Rhysand," Beron greeted, his tone deceptively cordial. "I'm glad you could make it. We have much to discuss."

Rhysand's gaze was cold as he responded, "Get to the point, Beron. Why did you summon us?"

Beron's smile widened, a predator baring its teeth. "It's come to my attention that there is a bond of great significance between our courts." He glanced meaningfully at Eris, then back at you. "Eris, it seems, has found his mate."

Gasps echoed around the room. Rhysand's face contorted with fury, and Mor looked utterly betrayed, her eyes flicking between you and Eris with disbelief and hurt.

You shook your head vehemently, your heart pounding in your chest. "I haven't felt anything," you insisted, your voice trembling with the effort to remain calm. But just as the words left your mouth, your eyes locked with Eris's, and a powerful surge of energy rippled through you.

In that instant, the mating bond snapped into place, the golden thread tying your fates together. It was like a jolt of electricity coursing through your veins, an undeniable connection that sent shivers down your spine. You felt it as a magnetic pull, an unseen force binding you to Eris with an intensity you couldn't ignore.

As the bond solidified, a strange, tingling sensation spread across your scalp. You reached up, instinctively, to touch your hair, your fingers brushing through the dark strands. Before your eyes, the color began to shift, the deep brown transforming into a vibrant, fiery red that matched Eris's own. The change was mesmerizing and terrifying, each strand shimmering as it took on the new hue.

Gasps echoed around the room, and the entire inner circle watched in stunned disbelief. Rhysand's face contorted with fury, and Mor looked utterly betrayed, her eyes flicking between you and Eris with disbelief and hurt.

"What is happening?" Mor whispered, her voice filled with anguish.

Your heart raced as the realization settled over you. The bond was real, and it was changing you in ways you couldn't have imagined. Your hair, now the same shade as Eris's, was a visible mark of the connection between you, one that couldn't be hidden or denied.

Rhysand's fury was palpable, his power crackling in the air around him. "No," he growled, stepping protectively in front of you. "I won't allow this. She isn't going anywhere."

Beron's smile was triumphant. "You have no choice, Rhysand. According to the laws of Prythian, she must be given the opportunity to meet with her mate. She must visit the Autumn Court every week."

Rhysand clenched his fists, his anger barely contained. "I don't care about your laws, Beron. I won't let you use her for your schemes."

Beron raised an eyebrow, his expression mocking. "This isn't about you, Rhysand. This is about the bond between them. Denying it will only cause them both pain."

You could feel the truth of Beron's words in the depth of your soul, the bond tugging at you, demanding to be acknowledged. Despite your fear and uncertainty, you knew you couldn't ignore it.

Mor stepped forward, her face pale with a mix of betrayal and concern. "Do you want this?" she asked softly, her eyes searching yours for any sign of your true feelings.

Torn between loyalty to your family and the undeniable pull of the bond, you looked at Eris, his red hair and amber eyes reflecting a mixture of hope and fear. "I don't know," you whispered, your voice breaking.

Beron seized the moment, his tone authoritative. "Then it's settled. According to the ancient laws, she will visit the Autumn Court every week to explore the bond. It's only fair."

Rhysand's eyes flashed with defiance, but he knew the laws were binding. With a heavy heart, he turned to you, his gaze softening with concern. "Are you sure about this?" he asked quietly.

You nodded, feeling the weight of the decision pressing down on you. "I have to," you replied, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside.

Beron smirked, victorious. "Very well. We expect her next week."

As you left the Autumn Court, the reality of your situation settled over you. The bond with Eris was undeniable, but the path ahead was fraught with danger and uncertainty. You couldn't help but wonder what the future held and how you would navigate the treacherous waters of both your courts and your heart.

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Returning to the Night Court after Beron's revelation felt like walking into a storm. You had barely stepped into the House of Wind when Rhysand summoned the entire inner circle to the grand hall. The tension was palpable as everyone gathered, their expressions a mix of shock, concern, and anger.

Rhysand paced back and forth, his fury barely contained. "I can't believe this. Eris, of all people."

Feyre stood by his side, trying to calm him. "Rhys, please. Getting angry won't change what's happened. We need to think this through."

You sat on the edge of a plush armchair, your heart pounding. You could feel everyone's eyes on you, but it was Rhysand's intense gaze that made you feel the most vulnerable.

"He’s dangerous," Rhysand continued, his voice rising. "And now he’s bound to my sister by the mating bond."

Mor, who had been sitting quietly, suddenly stood up. "Rhys, this isn’t her fault. The mating bond isn’t something anyone can control."

You looked up, surprised by her support. Mor had every reason to be furious, but there was a calm determination in her eyes.

"Mor, how can you defend this?" Rhysand's voice was incredulous.

"Because I know what it feels like to be judged for something out of your control," Mor replied firmly. "And because she’s our family. We need to support her."

Nesta, sitting next to Cassian, nodded in agreement. "Mor's right. This isn’t her fault. Blaming her won’t help."

Cassian crossed his arms, his expression serious. "We need to focus on what’s important. Protecting her and figuring out what Beron might do next."

Azriel, who had been silent until now, spoke up. "Eris might be her mate, but that doesn’t mean we trust him. We need to stay vigilant."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at the supportive faces around you. "I’m sorry," you whispered, your voice breaking. "I never wanted this."

Feyre came over and knelt beside you, taking your hands in hers. "We know. And we’re here for you, no matter what."

Rhysand let out a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair. "I just... I don’t want what happened to Mor to happen to you."

You nodded, understanding his fear. "I don’t either. But I can’t deny what’s happening. The bond is real."

Rhysand's expression softened slightly, the anger giving way to concern. "We’ll figure this out. Together."

Feyre squeezed your hands. "Yes, we will. And no matter what, you’re not alone in this."

Mor stepped forward, placing a hand on your shoulder. "We’ll get through this. All of us."

Nesta gave you a small, reassuring smile. "And we’ll make sure you’re safe."

As the tension in the room began to ease, you felt a flicker of hope. Rhysand seemed extremely uncomfortable with the events of tonight and you hoped he would calm down before anything else was to happen with the Autumn Court

Later, in the privacy of your room, you examined your reflection in the mirror, the fiery red of your hair a constant reminder of the bond. You knew from ancient lore that this transformation was not just cosmetic. Your hair would remain this vivid shade until the bond was consummated, until you mated with Eris.

The thought sent a shiver through you. The bond demanded recognition, and until it was fully acknowledged, you were marked by it. The vibrant red was a symbol of the passion and desire that tied you to Eris, an intimate and undeniable connection that changed everything.

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The invitation to the ball at the Autumn Court arrived unexpectedly, a beautifully crafted scroll sealed with Beron's crest. Rhysand gathered the inner circle to discuss it, his expression a mix of caution and curiosity.

“We’ve been invited to a ball,” Rhysand announced, holding up the scroll. “Beron wants to finalize the peace treaty.”

Cassian scoffed. “Sounds like a trap.”

“We have to be careful,” Feyre agreed, her eyes scanning the faces around the table.

You sat quietly, your heart pounding at the thought of returning to the Autumn Court. Since the revelation of the mating bond, your interactions with Eris had been fraught with tension and confusion. Rhysand noticed your silence and gave you a concerned look.

“You’ll be coming with us,” Rhysand said, his tone brooking no argument. “But stay close. I don’t trust Beron or his sons.”

The night of the ball arrived, and you found yourself dressed in a stunning silver gown that shimmered with every movement. The fabric was delicate and flowing, clinging to your curves in a way that made you feel both powerful and vulnerable. The plunging neckline and open back revealed just enough to be tantalizing without being overtly scandalous, and a high slit ran up one leg, adding an edge of daring to the ensemble.

The grand ballroom of Beron’s palace was a spectacle of opulence and decadence, every inch dripping with gold and crystal. The air was thick with the scent of exotic flowers and rich perfumes, the music a haunting melody that echoed through the high, vaulted ceilings. You entered the ballroom, feeling the eyes of the Autumn Court upon you, your silver gown flowing around you like liquid crystals. The dress hugged your curves in all the right places, the deep neckline and intricate lace detailing drawing more than a few appreciative gazes. Your heart pounded in your chest, both from the anxiety of being in such a hostile environment and the anticipation of seeing him.

As the Night Court entourage entered the grand ballroom of the Autumn Court, you were struck by the opulence and the flickering warmth of the firelight reflecting off the gilded decorations. Nobles and courtiers filled the room, their eyes turning towards your group with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.

Eris was there, standing near the center of the room, his golden eyes locking onto you the moment you entered. He wore a tailored suit in rich autumnal colors, looking every bit the princely heir of the Autumn Court. The bond between you hummed with an almost tangible electricity, drawing you towards him despite your better judgment.

Rhysand kept a protective hand on your shoulder, his gaze wary as he scanned the room. But Eris approached with a confidence that belied the tension between the two courts.

"Dance with me," he said, his voice a low, seductive murmur that sent shivers down your spine.

Rhysand hesitated, his protective instincts warring with the necessity of diplomacy. After a moment, he nodded curtly, releasing you. “Be careful,” he whispered.

You placed your hand in his, the contact sending a jolt of electricity through you. He led you onto the dance floor, the crowd parting to make way for you. The music swelled, a dark and haunting waltz, and you found yourself swept up in his embrace, the world around you blurring as you moved together.

Eris’s hand rested possessively on your lower back, his touch scorching through the fabric of your gown. "You look stunning tonight, red is a good look on you" he murmured, referring to your hair, his lips dangerously close to your ear. "But don’t think I’ve forgotten who you are."

His words were a reminder of the delicate dance you were both engaged in, a game of power and seduction that neither of you could afford to lose. Yet, beneath the barbs and the tension, there was something else—a pull that neither of you could deny.

"Nor I, you," you replied, your voice steady despite the fluttering in your chest.

Eris twirled you expertly, your gown flaring out around you like a flame, drawing the eyes of everyone in the room. The twirl brought you back into his arms, your bodies aligning perfectly, his breath mingling with yours. The world seemed to spin with you, the music and the crowd blurring into a distant echo.

His hand slid lower on your back, his fingers pressing into the curve of your spine with possessive heat. "You think you can manipulate me with this bond?" Eris whispered, his breath hot against your skin. "You think you can use it to get what you want?"

You met his gaze, your eyes burning with defiance. "And what if I am?" you challenged, your voice a seductive whisper.

The air around you crackled with tension, the music and the crowd fading into the background. Eris's grip on you tightened, his eyes darkening with a mixture of anger and desire. "Tell me you don’t feel this," he growled, his voice a raw, dangerous edge.

Your heart raced, the bond between you thrumming with intensity. "I feel it," you admitted, your voice barely more than a breath. "But that doesn’t mean I trust you."

Eris’s eyes blazed with a fierce, possessive light. "Then we are at an impasse," he said, his voice a dark promise. "Because I won’t let you go."

He spun you again, your skirts flaring out, and when he pulled you back, his hand was firmer, more insistent. Your bodies moved as one, each step a seductive dance of defiance and desire. His fingers brushed the bare skin of your back through the cutout of your gown, sending shivers down your spine. The heat from his touch was both thrilling and maddening, his presence consuming.

As the music slowed, Eris’s hand slid down further, his fingers trailing down your bare legs. Your breath hitched, the intimate touch sending a wave of heat through your body. He smirked, his eyes glinting with amusement and something darker. "Look who's excited," he murmured, his voice a teasing caress.

The dance was a battle of wills, each step a carefully calculated move. His hand tightened on your waist, pulling you closer, the heat of his body overwhelming. Your breaths mingled as you moved, the friction between you a tantalizing promise of what could be. The way he held you, the way his body pressed against yours, it felt as if you were the only two people in the room.

"You’re playing with fire," he murmured, his voice low and intimate, sending another shiver down your spine.

"Maybe I like the heat," you replied, your voice a soft challenge.

His eyes flared with something dark and dangerous, a predatory gleam that made your pulse quicken. The music reached a crescendo, and with a final, dizzying spin, the dance ended, leaving you breathless and trembling in his arms.

Eris's eyes bore into yours, a silent challenge that left you reeling. "Remember, little bird," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "This game is far from over."

He released you then, stepping back and leaving you standing alone on the dance floor, the heat of his touch lingering on your skin. The crowd around you resumed their revelry, oblivious to the battle that had just played out in their midst. Your heart pounded in your chest, your mind racing with the implications of what had just happened.

As you made your way off the dance floor, you couldn't help but glance back at Eris. He stood at the edge of the crowd, his fiery gaze still locked onto you, a promise of more to come. The game between you was far from over, and you knew that the next move was yours.

-----------------------♧-----------------------------------

Later after the dance, you looked around the ballroom for eris but didn't seem to find him. You found yourself wandering off into Autumn Court, looking for him.

A few hours earlier

The day had come for you to go the Autumn Court for the ball , a place that had become a maze of emotions and conflicts. The knowledge of your newly discovered mating bond with Eris had created a whirlwind within the inner circle. The tension was palpable, and the uncertainty weighed heavily on everyone. As you prepared to leave, Rhysand summoned you to his office.

You stood before your brother, his expression a mixture of concern and determination. Feyre was by his side, her presence a comforting anchor in the storm of emotions.

"You know why you need to go tonight," Rhysand said, his voice steady but laced with underlying tension. "But there's more to this visit than just the mating bond."

You frowned, sensing the gravity of his words. "What do you mean?"

Rhysand exchanged a look with Feyre before continuing. "We need Eris to sign the peace treaty. It's crucial for the stability between our courts."

Your heart sank. Convincing Eris of anything, let alone a peace treaty, seemed an insurmountable task given your current situation.

Rhysand seemed to notice and asked with hesitation in his voice "you don't plan on accepting this bond do you sister?"

Your eyes met with his and you firmly said "no, brother I would never betray you or our family that way"

"good, that's what I like to hear" rhysand gave you a warm smile

"And you think I can do this?" you asked, your feet shifting and trying to change the subject, doubt creeping into your voice.

Rhysand's gaze softened. "You are stronger than you think. And you have a unique connection with him now. Use it to our advantage."

Feyre stepped forward, placing a comforting hand on your arm. "We believe in you. Just remember, you have us backing you every step of the way."

You nodded, drawing strength from their unwavering support. "I'll do my best"

--------------------------♧--------------------------------

The grand ball in the Autumn Court had been a dazzling affair, with the glittering lights and the melodious music setting an enchanting atmosphere. You had danced with Eris, feeling the intensity of the mating bond thrumming between you, even as Rhysand had watched with a guarded expression.

Later that night, after the festivities had wound down, you found yourself wandering through the quiet halls of the Autumn Court palace, seeking out Eris. You knew he was in his study, and despite the tension between you, you needed to speak with him about this, about the treaty, about what was going to happen next.

The heavy oak doors to his study were slightly ajar, and you pushed them open cautiously. Eris was there, sitting behind his desk, a tumbler of amber liquid in his hand. His face was hard and unreadable as he glanced up at you, his eyes narrowing.

"What are you doing here?" he asked sharply, his voice tinged with bitterness.

You stepped into the room, feeling the weight of his anger and the pull of the mating bond between you. "Eris, we need to talk," you said, trying to keep your voice steady despite the tumult of emotions inside you.

He scoffed, his gaze darkening. "Talk? About what? The mating bond?" He rose from his chair, his movements tense and controlled. "I've made myself clear. This... thing between us changes nothing. You need to stay away from me."

His words stung, but you refused to back down. "Eris you came to me, you started this at the unification ceremony, when i came to visit Lucien, right now at the ball" you gripped your hair strands, frustrated.

He chuckled "Don't you understand? We are all pawns in his game, all that I did was just a game, it didn't mean anything i can promise you that, you didn't seriously think all my gestures meant anything? Did you now?" he responded ruthlessly making your heart swell with sadness and anger

"Eris, I know you're afraid of your father, but I won't let him control us," you said firmly, taking a step closer to him.

He laughed bitterly, a harsh sound that cut through the air. "You have no idea what my father is capable of," he retorted, his voice low and dangerous. ''He wants your wings, and before you ask, no I did not tell him he practically pried his way into my head"

You gasped upon the revelation of the news that you just heard. Your mind raced with thoughts of what Beron wanted to do with your wings and that made you shudder.

The sexual tension between you was palpable, a volatile mix of desire and frustration. You could feel the heat radiating from him, drawing you in even as he pushed you away.

"Eris, I can protect myself," you insisted, your voice softening as you reached out to touch his arm.

He jerked away from your touch, his eyes flashing with a mixture of longing and fear. "Don't," he warned, his voice hoarse. "You don't understand what you're dealing with."

You stood your ground, your heart pounding in your chest. "Then help me understand," you pleaded, your voice cracking with emotion.

For a moment, he looked at you with something akin to despair in his eyes. Then, with a sudden, decisive movement, he closed the distance between you, his hands gripping your arms firmly. The intensity of his gaze bore into yours, his breath mingling with yours.

"You need to leave," he said roughly, his voice low and urgent. "Before it's too late."

But you couldn't tear your gaze away from his, couldn't deny the pull of the bond that bound you together. "I can't," you whispered, your voice barely a breath.

With that he holds your face, you feel the cold rings on his fingers digging into your skin. He towers over you, his height making you feel small and vulnerable pushing you against the harsh surface of the wall. His elbow leans against the wall, trapping you between his strong body and the unyielding surface behind you. His eyes bore into yours with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine. You can feel the heat of his breath against your face, his presence overwhelming and intoxicating.

For a moment, you think he's going to kiss you. His face hovers so close to yours that you can feel the warmth of his lips. Your heart races, your breath catching in your throat as anticipation builds between the two of you. But just as quickly as he moved in, he pulls back slightly, a smirk playing on his lips.

"You have no idea what you're getting into, we can never be anything more, we are just a game" he whispers, his voice low and dangerous.

You swallowed hard, your pulse racing with a mix of fear and something else you can't quite name. His proximity is maddening, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through you. You know you should push him away, to resist the pull he has over you, but your body betrays you, frozen under his gaze.

"I... I need to go," you stammer, trying to break free from his grip.

Eris's smirk widens, his eyes darkening with amusement. "Run away if you must," he says softly, his voice dripping with mockery. "But you'll be back. They always come back."

With that, he releases you and steps back, leaving you breathless and confused, your heart pounding in her chest. You gather yourself and hurry out of the room, Eris's taunting words echoing in your mind.

Taglist: @lilah-asteria @blackgirlmagicforever @sunny1616 @st4r-girl-official @krowiathemythologynerd

[enretrogue]

𝗝𝗔𝗡𝗨𝗔𝗥𝗬 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟯 𝗙𝗜𝗖 𝗥𝗘𝗖𝗦 (𝟮)

.☘︎ ݁˖ = BLACK/POC WORKS | 23' FIC REC M.LIST

THE GRAY MAN

SIERRA SIX/COURT GENTRY

Kiss Me. Right Here. Right Now. — @lloydsbitch

Kinktober Day 1: Floor Sex — @someplace-darker

Vacation Sex w/ Six — @charnelhouse

The Babysitter — @runa-falls

Cozy — @sierrasixed

Bullet For You — @stardustdreams-andcaffeine

LLOYD HANSEN

His One Weakness — @secretswiftymarvelfan

Rainbow Baby Drabble — @imaginedreamwrite

Boring, Boring, Boring ⎢ Pt. 2 — @rustytricycle

In My Memories You Sleep — @shotgunbunny

Don’t You Shiver — @the-iceni-bitch

Untitled Drabble — @rogerswifesblog

Yours To Ruin — @rosedpetal

Hatred — @ichorai

Shopping w/ Lloyd — @universitypenguin

Be Aware Of Your Surroundings (+Andy Barber) — @sstan-hoe .☘︎ ݁˖

Deception Isn’t Sexy — @shotgunbunny .☘︎ ݁˖

Only You — @dungeonpuppykai

Everything For You Sunshine — @sstan-hoe .☘︎ ݁˖

The Trip — @sstan-hoe .☘︎ ݁˖

It’s You And Me Forever — @sstan-hoe .☘︎ ݁˖

Little Slut — @sstan-hoe .☘︎ ݁˖

My Best Friend’s Dad Is The One For Me — @sstan-hoe .☘︎ ݁˖

Wedding Crasher — @imyourbratzdoll

Code Red — @kthynes

Husband For Hire ⎢ Pt. 2 ⎢ Pt. 3 — @kthynes

Lloyd Hansen x Wife!Reader — @imyourbratzdoll

Funeral Planning — @xcaptain-winterx

Your Tears Are Delicious ⎢ Pt. 2 — @rustytricycle

Distract Me — @jomaskins

You Showed Me Colors You Know I Can’t See With Anyone Else — @hiscalamitouslove

Imagine… Waking Up To The Love Of Your Life — @joannaliceevans-fanficblog

Got A Jealous Bone — @the-iceni-bitch

SIERRA SIX + LLOYD HANSEN

Lloyd + Six Fighting Over Reader — @writing-wh0re

Precious Weapon ⎢ 2 ⎢ Midnight Confessions — @arrieebooks

[wyvernquill]

One more snippet of the Dreamling Anastasia AU

...in which we witness Hob and Murphy's very first conversation (spoiler: it doesn't go well). Please enjoy!

Link to the Masterpost!

(Tag list, let me know if you want to be added or taken off: @10moonymhrivertam @martybaker @globglobglobglobob @anonymoustitans @sunshines-fabulous-legs @dreamsofapiratelife @malice-royaume @kcsandmanfan @acedragontype @okilokiwithpurpose @tharkuun @silver-dream89 @i-write-stories-not-sins-bitch)

---

For a moment, the scene unfolding before Hob makes him think he’s stepped into a fairytale - or perhaps a sweet and strange dream, haunting you ever so gently even after waking.

Once upon a time, thinks Hob, there was a Dream King draped in a cloak of midnight, and he held court over the ravens in a silver-winter forest under heavy, snow-laden boughs…

But then he blinks, and the silly, fanciful vision fades. The cloak is but a dark coat three sizes too large and marked by at least ten years’ worth of dirt and wear, the forest only a small and pitiful park fenced in by roads, and the snow a dirty grey, barely more than half-melted sludge where countless feet have trodden it down.

And the Dream King is only some beggar called Murphy, of course, uncanny resemblance be damned.

But there are ravens. Birds of all kinds, really, the sounds of their wings and their various songs nearly managing to drown out the noise of the city around them. Yet Hob is a practical man, and knows that they gather around their ‘king’ only because they’re clever little buggers waiting to be fed, and not thanks to any strange magics.

(Magic died when humanity rose up and brought the Endless low; and what little survived has fled, concealed itself, and would know better than to enchant a hundred or so birds in broad-if-cloud-dimmed daylight.

Magic died with Dream of the Endless, and all that is left are shadows and cheap facsimiles.

Magic died, and nothing will bring it back.)

And yet… there’s potential there, Hob thinks, as he watches Murphy draw his giant coat more tightly around himself, shivering but still holding his head high and proud, surveying the assorted fowl around him as if they were his subjects. There’s a sharp, delicate arrogance in his bearing that will serve their deception well.

And. Christ alive. He does look like him, doesn’t he. Like the Sandman himself, made flesh and bone and sweat and dirt. Made human. If Hob didn’t know, with absolute certainty… he could swear...

Ridiculous thought. Dream of the Endless would never sink so low as to get himself thrown out of a pub swearing and spitting, human or not.

Murphy’s eyes suddenly snap up, and Hob flinches instinctively, contemplates ducking behind the next tree or the column advertising the latest local plays - but the man’s gaze passes over him carelessly, long neck craning out from the ratty scarf wound around his throat as he scans the sky.

It’s the raven. The large, coal-feathered beast Murphy had with him at the pub, with the clever glint in its eye - and in its claws, it holds a whole loaf of bread, clearly pilfered from some bakery or street stall.

The raven drops the bread into Murphy’s lap, and then lands on his shoulder, cawing and nudging its beak against a sharp cheekbone in a strange avian gesture of affection.

Murphy rasps some sort of acknowledgement in his dark, hoarse voice that Hob is too far away to parse, stroking a finger along the bird’s side, before turning his attention to the bread.

His spindly, dirty fingers tear into it with the hungry desperation of a man who remembers with precise clarity when his last meal was, and also that it’s been far too long since then, and Hob’s stomach gives a sympathetic pang. He’s been there. Not so much recently - but he knows the slow gnaw of starvation, and will never forget it.

(He hasn’t gone hungry since meeting Gilbert, who’d rather skip on his own technically unnecessary meals if it meant his young human companion could eat his fill. Sometimes, Gil even hands Hob fruits he’s seemingly conjured up out of thin air, which are never as filling as the real thing, but taste heavenly enough to stave off hunger for a few more hours at least.

There must be some dream-magic there, something to do with Gil being, in all technicality, a meadow - but Hob doesn’t think about it too much. It’s sweet, the actions of a friend who truly cares, and that’s enough for him.)

Murphy raises the first morsel of bread up to his mouth…

…and feeds it to the raven.

Hob blinks.

Watches, as the man takes his own bite, chewing ravenously, and then tears another bit off the loaf, throwing it to the ground, birds immediately flocking around it, picking for their share.

The process repeats. Murphy goes through the entire loaf that way. One bite for the raven who stole the bread, one bite for Murphy himself, and one for the flocks of birds around him. Halfway through, the raven refuses its bites, presumably full, and from then on it’s one bite for Murphy, two for the birds. It’s already not the largest loaf, and a third of it is hardly enough to sate a grown man’s hunger - strangely selfless, this Murphy character. No wonder he’s thin as a rake.

(Then again, Hob supposes there’s strategy in it, teaching the birds that they’ll be well-rewarded for any bounty they bring him.

Altruism, or shrewdness? Hob wonders.)

Soon, there’s nothing left of the bread. Murphy still looks hungry, but it’s an exhausted, resigned hunger that’s there to stay. Hob doubts the man can remember a time he wasn’t hungry. This city is not kind to the starving, to the poor - Murphy might get a place in a workhouse, if he tried, but Hob doubts that quiet pride still shining through the veil of hunger would let him. And besides, they’re dying institutions, these days, workhouses - the modern world is turning up their noses at anything that might help the destitute, even as it churns out more and more of them. It’s a dark and miserable time they’re living in, and none of the glamorous parties the rich so love to throw these days will convince Hob otherwise.

But, well. If their scheme goes off without a hitch, then at the very least the new ‘Dream of the Endless’ will never go hungry again. Hob’s doing a public service here, if you look at it from the right angle - though he’ll be the first to admit that his main motivation is anything but selfless. Immortality is too rich a prize to pretend he doesn’t want it with every fibre of his being.

And he’ll not get it standing idly by and watching, that’s for sure.

Hob straightens his coat lapels, takes off his hat to comb his fingers through his overlong hair, places it back at a jaunty angle - and walks over to finally officially make this Murphy character’s acquaintance.

“Afternoon,” Hob says, still a few steps away, smile widening into a grin when Murphy’s gaze immediately fixes itself onto him, cold and filled with the sharp suspicion of a man most people go out of their way to ignore, and who does not trust direct address.

(The eyes give him away. Dream of the Endless had eyes like midnight stars, the depths of space and the glitter of distant galaxies eternally reflected in them. Strange eyes, inhuman eyes, endless eyes.

Murphy’s eyes are a pale, washed-out blue-grey, slightly sunken in their sockets, and perfectly ordinary.

No matter - they will already have to sell some cock-and-bull story about Dream having been forced into human form, the eyes will be the least of it.)

“What do you want?” Murphy growls, and that is perfect. The voice. Easily his best asset, besides the overall look. It’s right, scratchy and roughened by disuse, but just as deep and sonorous as Dream of the Endless's was. The harsh tone and tendency to curse like a sailor Hob witnessed at the inn will need to go, to be sure, this man speaks too much like a London gutter rat and not enough like the Lord of Stories - but, well, nothing a few lessons can't fix. Nobody else ever got the voice even remotely right, and this’ll already give them a lot more to work with.

“A moment of your time, m’lord. Nothing more.” Hob affects a cheeky bow, and does not waver under the cold disdain he receives in return. Mr. Murphy’s not a fan of teasing and gentle mockery, evidently - unfortunately, that is about 50% of Hob’s personality. They’ll get on just splendidly, won’t they. “Hob, at your service. Are you aware your lady sister is looking for you?”

A quick blink, even as Murphy’s entire scrawny body and haggard face goes very, very still.

“...I do not have a sister.” He says, only the slightest edge of uncertainty and confusion wavering in his voice. And then, “piss off, Robert Gadling” he adds, uncouth and vulgar, a scowl scrunching up his face. Oh, they’ll need to train that out of him, most certainly.

(Hob has not introduced himself as Robert, and certainly not as Gadling. That Murphy has named him thus nonetheless goes over both their heads.)

“No?” Hob smiles. “You’re not Dream of the Endless, then?”

Another blink - and then Murphy laughs, a horrible dissonant sound that seems like it ought to hurt his throat, the raven on his shoulder letting out a single caw alongside him.

“Are you drunk?” He snorts. “Dream of the Endless is dead. Every child knows it.”

“Every child believes it to be so. There’s a distinction.” Hob tries to take a step closer, but the sea of birds at their feet steadfastly refuses to part for him, so he thinks better of it. “You look exactly like him, you know. You might well be.”

“And you would know that, would you?” Murphy raises an arch eyebrow. “I think I’d remember having once been the personification of dreams.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Memory can be a funny thing.” Hob shoots back. “We don’t remember being born, do we? And some lose track of even more than that. How’s your recollection of your childhood, hm?”

Ah. Jackpot. The moment he speaks of remembering and childhoods, Murphy looks away, uncomfortable. Hit a sore spot there, has he? Memory issues. How interesting. How perfectly convenient.

“...you’ve had your fun now,” Murphy rasps, shifting uneasily, no longer so willing to defiantly meet Hob’s eyes. “I want no part in whatever game you’re intending to play with the London Poor, Gadling. Fuck off, before I make you.”

“Now, now, I really do think we’re on to something, here.” Giving up, Hob knows, is for fools who don’t really want to become immortal. “I’m quite certain-”

“Fuck. Off.” Murphy repeats, and turns his pale, unfortunately-human eyes on Hob again.

So do nearly a hundred birds, feathers ruffling and beaks clacking. The raven on Murphy’s shoulder caws, low and threatening.

Hob swallows, and takes stock of his options. Wonders if tactical retreats might not be just the thing for intelligent men who don’t want to die by bird before ever getting to take their stab at immortality.

“I’m only saying-” Hob tries instead, because he’s a reckless idiot.

Murphy’s eyes narrow, and he spits out a throaty sound like a command, the flock of birds rising as one, led by his personal raven jumping into flight with a sharp battle cry.

Shit.

Gilbert glances up when Hob returns covered in feathers and bird droppings, skin smarting where sharp beaks have pecked at him until he fled.

“I take it young Mr. Murphy was not particularly amenable to your proposal…?” He asks, delicately, lip twitching around a politely-repressed smile.

“Can’t say he was.” Hob shrugs easily, only wincing slightly at the way the movement pulls on his skin. “But I think I can convince him, Gil. Given enough time.”

“If you say so, young friend.” Gil, for his part, does not look particularly convinced either. He rarely is, when Hob first pitches his ideas, but he always comes around.

And so will Murphy.

Hob knows it’s only a matter of time… and, perhaps, some clever bribery.

[westeroslive]

as  the  night  darkens,  set  -  alight  torches  lead  the  way  toward  visenya’s  hill  —  the  great  sept  of  baelor  awaits  the  arrival  of  the  noble  court  under  the  full  moon.  several  guests  have  already  left  the  premises  of  the  red  keep  to  prepare  for  the  blessed  union  -  tension  in  the  air  at  an  all  time  high,  as  the  queen's  presence  commands  an  iron  fist  rule  of  her  people  and  foreign  guests,  even  the  emperor  falls  into  her  step  with  only  slight  hesitation.  the  ceremony  cannot  be  anything  less  than  perfection,  the  smallest  mishap  caused  will  have  grave  consequences,  and  yet,  the  flowing  intoxicating  wines  have  broken  down  barriers  in  impeccable  aristocratic  masks  of  neutrality.

children  had  been  banned  from  the  ceremonies  -  and  it  takes  only  a  glance  at  the  dragon  queen  herself  (  and  the  absence  of  the  former  lord  hand  )  for  all  to  know  just  the  reason  why.  for  how  the  lord  rowan's  words  had  spread  across  the  court  like  wildfire,  beginning  to  tarnish  royal  reputations  long  on  the  edge,  tilting  over  and  gripping  on  for  dear  life.  a  so-called  dragonseed  could  not  be  seen  within  the  crowds,  especially  in  the  presence  of  the  essosi.  for  a  rumor  could  be  overlooked,  pushed  aside  as  nearly  that  -  but  a  living  babe  could  not  be  so  easily  ignored.  

the  heir  to  the  seven  kingdoms  stands  tall  in  baelor’s  sept,  flanked  on  his  side  by  the  ruling  lord  stark,  the  prince  of  summerhall  and  the  heir  of  castamere,  as  the  high  septon  -  great  leader  of  the  faith,  at  the  request  of  her  majesty  -  overlooks  the  masses  in  westeros’  center  of  worship.  even  the  seven  -  faced  god  can  feel  the  thick  atmosphere  of  envy  and  resentment  drenching  the  bones  of  nobility  —  almost  overpowering  the  stench  of  their  exotic  perfumes  covering  the  deceptive  delight  at  the  turn  of  events.  at  the  very  least,  it  should  have  been  one  of  their  own  -  daughters  cast  aside  and  only  used  for  wanton  appetite,  a  disgrace  that  cannot  be  spoken  off,  out  of  fear  for  retribution  but  revenge  will  taste  bittersweet.

time  continues  slowly,  grain  of  dornish  sand  trinkles  down  hourglass,  room  filled  with  gently  -  flowering  moonblooms  that  will  blossom  white  petals  brightly  at  midnight.  guests  grow  more  subdued  as  they  are  made  to  wait,  but  even  statues  of  virtue  crumble.  it  is  only  a  matter  of  time  until  the  westerosi  are  to  notice  that  not  all  pentoshi  royals  are  sitting  in  the  sept,  five  royal  children  -  one  to  be  wed  to  the  crown  prince  -  and  one  missing  from  the  premises,  only  three  are  sitting  near  their  father,  the  emperor.  biting  stares  that  burn  as  bright  as  dragonfire  scorch  their  bones,  the  essosi  delegation  well  aware  of  the  sentiments  their  presence  brings  forth,  they  however  will  not  give  up,  the  success  of  this  wedding  strengthens  the  important  alliance.  as  hostile  nobles  paint  targets  on  their  backs,  the  emperor  and  his  family  swallow  back  any  turmoil  with  their  one  absent  daughter  —  she  knows  better  than  to  be  a  fool.  but  younglings  are  so  naive  with  promises  of  another’s  heart,  the  servants’  tattletales  have  even  reached  their  wing,  aware  of  the  clandestine  affairs  between  their  daughter  and  sister’s  betrothed  -  but  the  amethyst  princess  would  never,  not  in  a  million  years,  he  was  to  be  a  phantom  in  her  life.

piercing  lavender  glares  from  royal  targaryens  embedded  in  the  flesh  of  the  groom,  countenance  dulled  with  no  emotion  as  he  awaits  his  sentence  —  a  lifetime  of  duty  first,  his  commitment  to  the  crown,  that  is  the  prophecy  of  a  royal.  the  moral  support  behind  him  counters  the  exasperation  radiating  from  siblings  and  mother,  even  the  vintage  ambrosia  have  loosened  the  tongues  of  the  ever - composed  imperial  crown,  the  reveal  of  their  secrets  -  the  beginning  of  the  end.  the  silence  in  the  sept  near  deafening,  the  despair  of  any  outbursts,  queensguard  soldiers  strategically  placed  with  hand  on  sword.  there  is  no  room  for  rebellion,  not  from  the  guests  nor  the  betrothed  pair  themselves.  queen  rhaena  counts  down  the  minutes  until  the  ceremony  is  over,  the  princess  cloaked  in  targaryen  black  and  red  into  her  husband’s  protection  with  no  way  to  undo  their  union:  it  cannot  go  wrong,  it  will  not  go  wrong.  

the  blossoming  of  the  moonblooms  at  zenith,  the  musicians  playing  the  first  notes  of  serene  melody  as  the  doors  of  the  great  sept  of  baelor  are  opened  by  the  guards.  oh  how  the  green  -  eyed  beasts  of  king’s  landing  watched  as  the  pentoshi  princess  glided  down  the  great  aisle  to  meet  her  betrothed  —  anger  at  their  lost  chance  brewing  below  the  surface.  for  how  so  many  had  put  their  daughters  forth  into  dragonstone’s  path  only  to  be  cast  aside  when  morning  came  if  they  were  even  so  lucky.  she  is  a  daughter  of  the  maiden  cloaked  in  the  colors  of  the  moon,  hidden  underneath  a  veil  of  myrish  lace,  as  is  pentoshi  tradition.  finally,  the  princess  arrives  at  the  altar  -  joining  her  betrothed  at  the  shrine  of  prayers,  with  the  emperor's  chosen  witnesses  -  noble  daughters  from  braavos, lys  and  myr  at  her  side.

the  ceremony  happens  in  hushed  whispers  -  for  matrimony  is  holy,   reserved  to  celebrate  the  weaving  of  dreams  painting  a  shared  future  -  sacred  for  two  people  alone,  with  the  gods  as  their  witness,  and  their  chosen  entourage  the  testimony  of  chosen  devotion.  with  bated  breath,  court  watches  the  wedding  take  place  -  valyrian  ceremonial  prayers  finally  recited  loud  enough  by  bride  and  groom  “wed  by  fire  and  blood”.  no  blood  is  to  be  drawn,  or  shared,  to  seal  their  fate  -  a  kiss  more  than  enough  to  declare  them  wed,  for  them  to  be  man  and  wife.  gently,  with  committed  dispassion,  rhaeys  unveils  his  soon  to  be  wife  for  his  eyes  only,  euphoria  awakening  in  byzantium  hues  as  his  lips  touch  those  of  the  pentoshi  royal.  through  this  act,  one  of  the  seven  sacrements  is  fulfilled,  in  the  eyes  of  the  faith  -  they  are  bound  for  eternity  -  it  can  not  be  undone. 

her  veil  now  fully  removed,  long  dark  tresses  and  bronzed  skin  visible  to  the  room  filled  with  guests,  one  of  her  witnesses  accepts  the  offer  with  raised  eyebrows  and  parted  lips.  the  wolf  lord  mirrors  the  female  witness  in  expression,  handing  over  the  targaryen  cloak  to  the  prince  to  be  placed  upon  the  new  princess’  her  shoulders.  high  septon  remains  obvious  to  the  situation,  the  queen’s  son  now  married  to  the  emperor’s  daughter,  as  was  demanded  by  the  small  council.  dark  heavy  cloak  with  three  -  headed  dragon  touches  svelte  anatomy,  smaller  hand  in  larger  as  fingers  intertwined  tightly  —  “introducing  the  prince  and  princess  of  dragonstone,”  the  religious  figure  announces  loudly  as  voice  booms  within  baelor’s  sept.  the  newly  wedded  pair  turn  around,  hushed  whispers  in  reaction  with  the  rare  louder  voices  cutting  through  the  aura  —  hundreds  of  eyes  move  toward  her  majesty  the  queen  and  the  emperor,  years  of  training  in  withholding  emotions  reveal  nothing  though  there  is  a  subtle  shift  in  their  eyes,  revealing  books.  oblivious  to  the  commotion,  the  septon  finalizes  the  rituals,  “one  flesh,  one  heart,  one  soul,  now  and  forever.”

as  her  grace  tries  to  take  control  of  the  situation,  struggling  to  regain  her  composure  without  the  leaning  shoulder  of  her  former  lord  hand,  another  princess  of  pentos  enters  the  great  sept.  valyrian  purple  haze  reads  deepfound  hurt  and  betrayal  in  the  eyes  of  the  princess  adhika,  her  prospective  life  stolen  from  her  —  treason  by  one  of  those  nearest  to  her  heart.  in  her  white  gown,  identical  to  the  one  the  newly  titled  princess  catraena  dagareon  of  dragonstone  wears,  the  eldest  daughter  of  the  emperor  realizes  she  was  too  late  -  someone  set  her  up:  wrong  place,  wrong  time.

  OUT  OF  CHARACTER:  MARITAL  RITES

and  with  that,  our  masquerade  event  reaches  it's  conclusion.  from  here,  threads  may  be  continued  -  though  we'd  ask  you  bring  them  to  close  soon.  the  next  stage  will  soon  be  announced,  but  all  new  threads  should  take  place  following  the  events  of  the  wedding  -  whether  immediately  after,  or  within  the  first  couple  of  days  after.

her  majesty  is,  of  course,  very  displeased  with  what  has  occured  -  and  so  be  careful  not  to  ruffle  any  feathers!

#justiceforadhika

[simmerbeans]

lil funny tag game

tagged by: @changingplumbob

last song listened to: imgonnagetyouback - t swiftie

(EVEN IF ITS HANDCUFFED IM LEAVING HERE WITH YOUUUUU)

favourite place: my bed lmao. okay actually, me and my husband go on an anniversary trip to the beach coast every year and i love it.

favourite book(s): A Court of Mist & Fury, and The Spanish Love Deception

currently reading: Crown of Midnight by Sarah J Maas.

favourite tv show: I mean probably Friends since i’ve seen it so many times, but otherwise not much of a tv gal, or at least i don’t have any favorites that really stand out.

favorite food: im always down for some Thai food, or a fat piece of chocolate cake

tagging: @sharona-sims @shmoodlet @matchalovertrait if yall want to !

[vipcrous]

𝖙𝖍𝖗𝖔𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖍𝖖𝖘 ::: aditi rao hydari ;  thirty-two ;  ciswoman ;  she/her .ANNOUNCING  the arrival of MYRIAH of house NYMEROS MARTELL, PRINCESS/MISTRESS OF LAWS of DORNE. rumors around the courts talk of their DUTIFUL yet MELANCHOLIC nature, and bards have often likened them to HEARTBREAK AND CASTLE WALLS; RIGHTEOUS HEART, DISINGENUOUS SMILES; OVERWHELMED BY MEMORIES, CRYING AT MIDNIGHT. it is said their loyalties lie with HOUSE MARTELL/DORNE, but will they succeed in bringing their side to victory? may the old gods and the new show them their favor in these turbulent times, for they will surely need it.

Biography:

Myriah was the second born child to the previous ruling prince and princess of Dorne. She was born old, some might say. She was never as wild as the other children around her. While she enjoyed playing in the Water Gardens and made many friends, she also had a serious side to herself. She was responsible, studious, and dependable. She also had an early aversion to lying. Myriah preferred to speak the truth, unless the deception was “kind” and intended to reassure the other person, as she was uncomfortable with hurting someone’s feelings. The princess was particularly close to a boy, just the same age as her, who too would often play in the Water Gardens. He was the natural-born son of a Dornish lord. As they grew older, that boy became her first love. They were inseparable and deeply in love. In order to stay close to her, he became her sworn sword and accompanied her wherever. Everyone could see the two’s affinity for each other, and they wouldn’t hide their affection, even in the company of those from outside Dorne who would rather oppose their relationship. Because he was a bastard and she - a Dornish princess, the idea of marriage was but a dream. And yet, Myriah would reject every lord who came to her as a suitor; she would even threaten her family that if they forced her to wed, she would flee to Essos and never return. Myriah bore her paramour four children in the years they were fortunate to share together. However, their love was never intended to last long. He died of injuries sustained during a brawl. Five years later, the princess has taken on the role of her sister’s mistress of laws to occupy her time, despite having four children to care for. They look too much like their father.

[haveyoureadthisfantasybook]

vote yes if you have finished the entire book.

vote no if you have not finished the entire book.

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[reivrze]

(  禍  )   —   TALES OF TIME | 해지유 | masterlist

" quill's dance in midnight's hue, a whispered secret for me and you "

SYNOPSIS. In 18th century Korea, Kang Mina, a scribe with a secret, loses her diary containing the kingdom's dangerous truths. Yang Jungwon, a cunning thief, discovers the diary and finds himself drawn to Mina's words. As they unravel a web of deception within the royal court, their paths converge, forcing them to confront their shared past and uncertain future.

PAIRING. theif!yang jungwon x scribe!kang mina

GENRE. coming of age, historical fiction, mystery, romance, 15th century japan, drama, angst, graphic violence

TAGLIST. open ! send an ask or comment down below to be added !

STARTED. to be determined

STORY. coming soon

© miyu 2023 - do not copy, translate, repost or plagiarize my work anywhere !

[sovonight]

i did have A version of this in my head before the whole disney prince doll thing, so this isn’t Just bc of that, but. anyway:

au where mical's a prince, cela is mical's personal protector/knight and childhood friend. cela finds atton slinking out of the castle one day and immediately labels him as a suspicious threat, but mical stops her from bringing him to the guards. it turns out that atton's an assassin/jack of all deception trades who's been hired to be mical's body double, since there's a great threat to mical's life on the horizon. mical doesn't like the dishonesty, but since the king & queen seem so genuinely worried for his safety, he's gone along with it. cela's skeptical about the whole plan, and atton, whose collar is still in her fist, pokes fun at her armor, saying the helmet's a poor attempt to make her look more intimidating. she drops him.

a spring celebration arrives, where the castle gates are opened and the whole kingdom is invited to celebrate, nobles and commoners alike. since most people who'd come into contact with the prince on a day like this would be strangers to him, it's a safe occasion for atton to make his debut as mical's body double; the transformation happens via a potion of disguise brewed by kreia, the court wizard. cela spends most of the day attending to mical, who's confined to his room since he's not supposed to be outside, but as the day goes on mical urges her to go out and enjoy the feasting and festivities even if he can't. cela's hesitant to leave him alone, but mical's like, you spend most of your time watching over me, i want you to take a break for once. cela's reluctantly convinced--she has always loved a particular dish that's only made for this celebration, but isn't so bold as to make a selfish request of the delivery boy from the kitchens herself--and she promises to be back in an hour. she almost leaves in her armor, but mical's like, nope, if you're in your armor, you're beholden to act like you're on duty, and you're supposed to relax. cela sighs and relents, saying she'll leave the armor behind, and mical's like, oh, and here's a gown i had made for you for special occasions. cela's like, what? and mical's like, well--you always wear common clothes to these events if you're not in your armor, and i thought you deserved something fancier than that, especially for your rank. cela thanks him, but when she unwraps the gown later, she thinks it's far too extravagant.

half an hour later, cela's heading back from the feast with a decadent slice of her favorite pie when she nearly physically runs into mical. cela backs up, apologizes--then notices this mical is dressed formally, and must be atton. atton stares at her, and cela thinks it's lax of him to not have the act on just because there's no one else in the hallway--doesn't he know anyone else could pass by at any time?--but atton unfreezes and acts as if they're strangers, asking if she's lost. cela's like, wh, lost? and atton's like, the gates are closing, most of the people living outside the castle have left. atton offers to escort her out and cela realizes that he really doesn’t recognize her, and she has a rare opportunity to assess atton's capabilities for herself, so she accepts. they end up taking a roundabout, scenic route out through the castle gardens--cela asks herself to get more time to investigate, and atton doesn't tell her that there's a better path in the other direction. they end up having a nice conversation, with atton’s real personality shining through beneath his polite princely mannerisms, until midnight draws near and the disguise potion starts wearing off. atton makes his excuses to get away, and cela lets him, knowing what's happening to him. she returns to mical hours late, to find mical already asleep, surrounded by empty dishes sent up from the kitchens; cela looks at him fondly and realizes that she never actually ate her slice of pie, herself. it's cold now, but she still eats it. her assessment of atton is that he wouldn't fool anyone who knows mical, but it's good enough for brief encounters--and that she should tell atton not to have such long conversations again.

the day after, atton's in a meeting with the advisors, who've assessed his performance. cela's elbowed her way into attending the meeting too, even though she has nothing to do with it, and she's back in her armor, so atton can't recognize her. the advisors agree the results of the experiment were satisfactory, and that this plan can continue until the prince's birthday. cela's curious about the birthday part, but the advisors just sweep by and ignore her with the meeting adjourned. atton's hanging back with her, and only leaves as cela leaves. cela starts to wonder if he figured out who she was, but atton's like, you know, as a royal knight and everything, you must know a lot of people around here... right? nobles and servants and all? cela's like, ...yes, and atton's like, i wonder if you could tell me about someone. there was this woman i saw... dark braided hair, fair skin, in a fine green dress--but almost too fine, like it was at odds with the rest of her. do you know who that might be? cela recognizes herself, is kind of annoyed at atton's description of her, and says, that's vague, but i think i do. she's no one--an orphan, adopted into high society. atton's like, really? since she's a noble, will she be at the prince's birthday celebration? (which is coming up in about a month.) cela’s like, yes--but why are you asking? she has no ill will towards the prince--she's not a threat. you don't need to focus on her. atton looks at her and is like, you really care about the prince, huh? don't worry--i was just curious. i won’t let how much i like her distract me from the job. cela's mind skips on that last sentence and she’s like, what?? what do you mean you like her? you can't like her. atton stares at her confused, and cela's like, the--the prince is already betrothed! what would people say? and atton laughs and is like, an engagement doesn't stop other people--but you're right. i bet she only talked to me because i was wearing the prince's face, anyway.

birthday celebration arrives, and cela's serving as a knight again, guarding atton playing as mical. they're alone, and atton's looking out the window at the guests who're milling around below, waiting for the "prince"'s appearance. atton comments that he doesn't see her anywhere--cela asks, who's her, and atton's like, you know, that woman i met, the orphan. what was her name, by the way? and cela isn’t about to give her own name, so she's quickly like, i'm sure she had another engagement. atton's like, what could be more important than attending the prince's birthday? wait--she isn't betrothed too, is she? and cela's like, hurry up and greet the guests--you shouldn't keep them waiting. as cela watches atton act in front of the guests, she's noticed that atton’s a lot more composed in front of the crowd, and even kind of overdoes the gentle and kind prince charming thing--but it's nothing that will hurt mical's reputation, and the guests love it. soon, the guests move from having tea on the terrace to a stage that's been set up in the garden. there's a magician's performance scheduled, the kind of performance that cela knows mical would like to miss anyway; these stage magicians are fakes, and the real magic that mical is fascinated with is something else entirely. still, the performance wows the audience more than wizard like kreia would have, through their showmanship alone. the prince is called onstage as a volunteer for their final trick; atton goes, and with a flashy explosion of lights, everyone save the presenter disappears. the presenter bows and thanks them for watching; the audience claps, delighted, believing it to be part of the show; and after a split second of confusion and fear, cela storms up and grabs the presenter by the collar, but he gives a sheepish/panicked smile and bursts into light in her hands, disappearing as well. cela opens her hand to find that only the metal pin on his collar remains, with a simple symbol on it representing the troupe.

the advisors meet over this disappearance. cela's in the meeting as well, and kreia, who's claimed the metal pin after the advisors have stopped looking at it, and is currently doing some sort of magic spell to it; cela can't tell. the advisors come to a consensus and are like, honestly, atton's expendable, we need more time to evaluate all angles of this threat, if atton dies in the meantime then he'll have died performing his use. cela finds that unacceptable and is like, no, we have to act now. the potion only lasts until midnight, if we do nothing they'll know soon enough that they've captured a fake, but if we act now and retrieve atton alive he'll be able to tell us more about them than we'd learn through research--it's his job to gather this kind of information if he's captured. the advisors are like, really, you don't think he'll break the second they threaten his life? and cela's like, even if he does, what will it say about the royal family that they don't care that their heir has been kidnapped? are we going to reveal to the entire kingdom that we put this plan in place, that mical's life is in danger? and kreia's like, she's right. send her and two of your best knights after the troupe. i've divined their location. it may be that they've already figured out that atton is a decoy, and they may attempt to breach the castle walls. prepare your knights here as well.

on atton's end, he's been brought to some location outside the city, and he hasn't been tied up or anything. the performers are really chill and nice and are honestly just glad to have such a high paying gig--they're not only being paid for the performance, but also the extra pizazz of kidnapping the prince. atton's tried to convince them to let him go, but they refuse--apparently they've been given instructions to only return him the next day, and won't get paid their second half until then. atton considers knocking them out and escaping himself, but there are too many witnesses here who still think he's the prince, so he's trapped into continuing to perform mical's level of nicety. they offer him food and drink, and bring out this expensive wine that they were apparently instructed to treat him to, since it's "the wine the prince is accustomed to for every meal". atton doesn't know anything about that, but he sees no reason to refuse a good meal, especially when he has no reason to think they've done anything to it, so he eats--but when the wine hits his tongue, he notices a particular aftertaste to it.

meanwhile, cela's en route to the performers' hideout. they've left the city walls and ventured into the forest, when suddenly her two companion knights turn on her. turns out they've always disliked how she got the position they wanted, a cushy, high ranking job where she never gets sent out on stupid quests because her duty is literally just to protect mical, and they especially don't like that she's just some no-name orphan when they, third & fourth sons from noble backgrounds, clearly deserve the honor more than she. they fight, cela wins, but her armor is damaged and her helmet is ruined. she drags herself up to the troupe's hideout, where half of them have passed out due to the drugged wine, and the other half immediately surrender at the sight of a knight wielding a sharp sword, covered in blood, and looking very, very angry. atton's kind of woozy and out of it, having spat the wine out but still feeling effects from the trace of it on his tongue, and as cela carries him out atton looks up at her and is like, oh, i should've guessed it was you. where's kreia? and cela's confused, and asks, what does kreia have to do with anything, and atton's like, it's kreia, it's been kreia the whole time. then he passes out, the potion finally taking full effect.

back at the castle, cela finds someone to stick with atton until he wakes, and runs into the advisors right after. they ask what information atton provided, but cela only shakes her head and asks them where kreia is--and receives only confusion and shrugs in response. she pushes past them and runs up to mical's room, and the advisors call after her that he's perfectly safe, his room is guarded. when she gets there and pulls open the door, though, there's a spiral staircase sunk into the floor--and one of the guards outside the door comments that he didn't know mical's floor could do that. cela ignores them and descends. the stairs are narrow, fit only for one person, and pass between the inner walls of the castle because she can hear threads of conversation through the cracks in the stone, the guards reporting mical missing, the advisors exclaiming that it shouldn't be possible, footsteps rushing across the floors in panic. but soon, the walls sink into silence, and cela realizes she must have passed beneath the dungeons, beneath the castle's foundations, passing further into the earth. the distant echoes she'd heard from above are gone; now, she hears echoes from below.

anyway, it turns out that originally, there was a prophecy with ambiguous wording that suggested that mical would die on his __th birthday. the king & queen automatically ascribed a foreign threat to the prophecy, but it's really just kreia. kreia's only part of the court because of mical's deep interest in the magic--the kingdom was founded with it, and the castle itself is said to be built upon a font of magic that draws from the veins of the earth itself. mical's room used to be a wizard tower of sorts, and has a direct path to the central underground chamber where the font resides. all inhabitants of the kingdom have the opportunity to draw on the magic slumbering in the land, but the way to access it has been forgotten over the years, and it requires a level of sincerity and pureness of heart to wield it directly. kreia used to have this ability, but the land took it away from her when her heart changed, and now she seeks to kill the land itself--by using mical to unlock access to it for her. anyway, insert scene where mical nearly dies/does die/"dies", the magic is unlocked and kreia gets her magic back, cela atton and maybe mical fight her (atton shows up because it turns out there's multiple ways down here (of course) and he remembered from some nerd book that mical showed him once that a certain symbol was scattered around the castle and atton just pulled the bricks out until he saw the secret passageway), if mical died for real cela ends up reviving him with a sincere wish to the land for him to be returned, and of course the actual guards/knights/etc only get there after kreia is dealt with and mical is fine. afterwards, mical gets to study magic for real though the king & queen still worry a lot for him; atton gets some kind of official job around the castle; he and cela finally have full conversations where he's Not in disguise; and they kiss maybe. the end

[just0nemorepage]

Midnight Strikes || Zeba Shahnaz || 448 pages Top 3 Genres: Fantasy / Young Adult / Romance

Synopsis: Seventeen-year-old Anaïs just wants tonight to end. As an outsider at the kingdom’s glittering anniversary ball, she has no desire to rub shoulders with the nation’s most eligible (and pompous) bachelors—especially not the notoriously roguish Prince Leo. But at the stroke of midnight, an explosion rips through the palace, killing everyone in its path. Including her.

The last thing Anaïs sees is fire, smoke, chaos . . . and then she wakes up in her bedroom, hours before the ball. No one else remembers the deadly attack or believes her warnings of disaster.

Not even when it happens again. And again. And again.

If she’s going to escape this nightmarish time loop, Anaïs must take control of her own fate and stop the attack before it happens. But the court's gilded surface belies a rotten core, full of restless nobles grabbing at power, discontented commoners itching for revolution, and even royals who secretly dream of taking the throne. It's up to Anaïs to untangle these knots of deadly deceptions . . . if she can survive past midnight.

Publication Date: March 2023. / Average Rating: 3.73. / Number of Ratings: ~550.

[transskywardsword]

Spider Meet Fly/Fly Meet Spider - Chapter Ten: Zelda and Sonia

Link and Rauru practice utilizing the secret stones, and things go downhill from there.

read the full story on ao3 here

Rauru was quiet when he and Link met together in the back gardens that morning. Link hadn’t slept much after the sparing… incident… earlier that night. That morning? Link thought the match had taken place a little after midnight. Morning, then?

Rauru didn’t seem angry, just tired, moving with slightly less than his usual grace as he pinned his mane away from his face and pulled off his robes to expose a no less ornate pair of loose trousers and undershirt. His biceps and broad shoulders were obvious like this, and while Link had long since come to terms with his smallness, the Zonai’s visible strength left him just the smallest bit jealous. Sitting a few meters away in a gazebo was Sonai, nursing a morning cup of tea, and, sitting across from her, tea cup looking laughable small in his hand, was Ganondorf, Twinrova slouched in their chairs beside him, looking incredibly bored, even through the masks.

Link could tell Rauru was uncomfortable having the Gerudo there, but where Link went Ganondorf went, and vice versa, and the sisters were pissy over being excluded from the argument last night, clinging to their brother and barring their teeth at anyone who got too close, their expressions clear ever through the golden metal.  

“Forgive them,” Sonia said to Twinrova after the guards at the door of the garden plaza had made snide remarks towards the heavy, glittering masks. Sonai was not deterred by Twinrova’s scoff. “The last great ruler of the Zonai Empire… he was assassinated by Hylian rebels who disguised themselves as Zonai priests, hiding their faces behind ceremonial masks and large false ears that they might enter the king’s quarters undisturbed. It was… far from a quick and merciful death. It may have been centuries ago, far outside of any living Hylian memory, but the paranoia has always remained, especially as Ra is one of the last pure-blood Zonai. Hiding faces in court has been a taboo since.”

“Please. If we wanted your king dead, he would be.” The blue sister said, and the red one laughed.

“Besides, hiding behind masks is a coward’s way of killing. An honorable warrior would strike him head-on.”

Sonia hid her discomfort at the comment well. Privately, Link thought that the constant harassment of Twinrova had less to do with taboos and more to do with making them feel othered and unwelcome, but he wasn’t sure if mentioning that would kill the almost-peace in the air. Link saw Ganondorf kick his sister under the table from the corner of his eye. It was a strangely childish action, and it felt bizarre coming from the looming man. She slinked further down in her chair, and Ganondorf rolled his eyes.

“Link!” Rauru called from outside the gazebo, “Come, stretch with me. Magic is hard on cold muscles.”

Link nodded, hand drifting to the Master Sword on his hip. She had been fluttery all morning, uneased ever since his conversation with Ganondorf. Fi kept whispering of danger, of a need to be on one’s guard, of deception, but Link, for once, was pointedly ignoring her. All way well, for now, more or less, and he would make sure things stayed that way. He didn’t need the Master Sword’s guidance in this; he could take care of himself.

“Pray tell why we’re up at the ass crack of dawn just to watch a spar?” One of Twinrova said with a yawn. Ganondorf kicked her under the table again, and Sonia smiled into her cup of tea.

“You’re in for a treat,” Sonai said, “Link—”

“Link has come into possession of a Zonai artifact,” Rauru said, bending his back unnaturally far. “You should feel honored to have the chance to see it up close. They are not often openly discussed.”

“Oh?”

Sonai’s hand went to her throat and the stone there. Ganondorf’s eyes lingered on the hollow of her neck where her secret stone hung, and something about the hardness of his gaze made Link uneasy.

“The light you used to decimate my swarm.” He said softly, and Rauru nodded, suddenly aware of the stiff discomfort in the air.

“…Yes,” He said hesitantly, and Sonia continued on.

“They’re stones,” Sonia said, clicking her nails against her amber stone. “They channel the innate power inside someone and convert it into physical, tangible magic.”

“A conduit?” Ganondorf said, voice soft. “How… interesting.”

“Yes. One isn’t given power by the stone; instead, it is amplified into something useful and useable.”

“Sonia…” Rauru said from the grass, but his wife continued.

“My sister-in-law, her stone amplifies her connection to her spirit and the spirits of the world around her. I can manipulate time, Ra can call upon light and banish darkness—”

“Sonia—”

“And Link’s… well, we’re still learning about his. We hope that doing so will help him with the problem he has been facing at home.”

“The mummy,” Ganondorf said, and Sonia nodded.

“He’s mentioned it to you?”

“Aye.”

“The Gerudo are known for their magic and gibdos—any chance you would know…?”

Ganondorf shook his head. “From what Link has said, it sounds far too intelligent to be a gibdo. As for a redead or other reanimated corpse—it is a possibility, but I’ve never heard of a redead with such power. I could research it, but without access to the Gerudo archives, that is impossible.”

Sonia brightened. “We have a section of Gerudo texts in the library, modern, classical, ancient, fiction, nonfiction, myth—”

“Sonia has always had a passion for literature,” a soft, husky voice said, and Ganondorf spun so fast in his chair that he nearly slipped off the too-small seat. Twinrova snickered, and Mineru paid them no mind.

“Rue!” Sonai said with a brilliant smile. “You made it! Rauru said you would be helping with the new construct bodies.”

The Zonai woman smiled that strange smile of hers, that spoke of kindness but an unfamiliarity with the shape.

“I figured I could be of use,” she said, sitting gracefully next to her sister-in-law. “Link. Ganondorf. Twinrova. A… pleasure.”

“Likewise,” Ganondorf rumbled, and Link couldn’t help but smile. They were getting along. They were all getting along! Maybe the whole fiasco of last night was proving to be a good thing; what was a little yelling if it meant they could all sit together civilly over a cup and tea and an early morning lesson?

Rauru cleared his throat. “Link. Let us begin.”

Link nodded. Rauru extended his biological hand and Link took it. “Here, look.”

The Zonai flexed his prosthetic fingers, making a fist, and then placed his flesh and blood hand, Link’s fingers still interlocked, over it. There was a sudden spark of… something… up Link’s fingertips and arm, and the pale stone in the back of Rauru’s hand came free.

“The only person I allow to touch this stone is Sonia, and, once, Mineru when she imbedded it in my arm. These stones are precious and dangerous. Used flippantly or in the wrong hand, they can cause devastating destruction—there is a reason there are so few Zonai. Greed and desperation are powerful, deadly things. I thought there were only seven left in the world until you arrived—my sister’s, my beloved’s, mine, and four stones kept deep below the castle where no one but I or Mineru can reach them. Now, you have provided us with an eight. I cannot allow you to continue to wield it without further knowledge; that is a recipe for disaster.”

Link gave a curt nod, turning over Rauru’s secret stone in his hand. It was identical to Link’s own, and a sudden chill ran down his spine.

He had been considering the murals from the mummy’s chamber as of late. The Zonai king and Hylian woman—he was positive they were Rauru and Sonia. And the hand…

The hand that had held the mummy down, that had bore the secret stone, had been Rauru’s hand. Link was sure of it. Somehow, Rauru would come to meet the mummy head-on, and something terrible would happen. Link just knew it. Unless…

Unless that was why he had been sent here. To change to the future, to save Rauru’s life, and to defeat the mummy before it even had the chance to strike, while it was still new and weak.

It made sense. It made perfect sense. But the thought of seeing the mummy again, even with allies beside him, was terrifying. Link didn’t like to admit being fearful of anything, but a creature who could shatter Fi with such ease… was a foe like no other. The Master Sword had been damaged by the hundred-year failure that was the rise of the Calamity but it was far from weak.

Link needed to speak with Rauru on this. The king needed to know, as scared as Link was to acknowledge it.

Could Zelda handle such a creature on her own? She had held back the Calamity for a century but… Link scolded himself. He was being silly. Zelda had held back Ganon, the Calamity, the Beast, the Destroyer of Worlds all by herself for a century! And her golden power had only grown over the past few years. Zelda might want nothing to do with Hylia, but the Goddess certainly wanted something to do with her, and as Zelda grew, so did her strength, the Triforce of Wisdom flooding through her veins. She was a force of nature, a supernatural beast of a woman in the best way possible, and she could save the world without him—she just needed the Master Sword beside her. That much Link was certain of; the Master Sword may have been created by the Chosen Hero, but it was made to protect the vessel of the Goddess and protect Zelda it would. He just needed to get home.

He would get home. It was not an option not to.

Rauru cupped his hands around Link’s, pushing them closed around the stone.

“What do you feel?”

Link frowned at the man and he flushed, or the closest Link thought a Zonai could come to flushing under all that fur.

“Of course. My apologies.”

Rauru drew back his hands, freeing up Link’s to speak.

Link closed his eyes, focusing on the weight of the stone in his hand. He returned it to Rauru and signed, “The surface is cold, almost chilly, like it’s been under cool water. But warmth radiates from it. An oxymoron. Hot and cold, mingling inside the stone. The surface… tingles?”

“Good, very good,” Rauru said with a smile. “The cold is the power of the stone, and the warmth is your own magic calling out and beckoning the power forward. The tingling… that’s something usually only noticed after years of work—it is how we communicate with our stones. That is a sign of great power or great insight. I’m impressed.”

“It feels like my sword.”

“Your sword is a weapon of light. I’m not surprised that your light power feels the same reflecting off of a secret stone. Now, let us truly begin. Take your stone in hand.” 

Link’s hand drifted to the Master Sword’s scabbard where his secret stone was inlaid. It took a bit of meddling, but eventually, it came free in his hand.

“Now, imagine a crystal prism. When white light goes through it, it is broken down into a rainbow by the prism. The prism refracts the light, shifting it. It is still the same light, just in a different form. The stone is the white light—you are the prism. Your innate power is what reforges the light into a myriad of colors, and that color interacts with the world around you.”

Link nodded slowly. That sort of made sense?

“Light magic is unpredictable. While time magic or spirit magic is useful for manipulating the world around you, we manipulate the power inside us to protect. We are defenders—champions.”

Link hair stood on end. He knew he was destined to take up the role of a knight—the knight—but hearing that his very innate essence was dedicated to protecting… well, it was an overwhelming thought. Champion. That’s what he was, what he’d always be. A Champion.

“Mineru—your constructs.”

“Of course.”

Mineru stood and brushed nonexistent dust from her dress, and the line of contructs around the garden Link had paid little attention to stood at attention.

“I am going to send a construct to try and pin you. Utilize the stone and take them down,” she said curtly, then added with a much softer voice, “You can do this. I believe in you.”

“Magic only,” Rauru said, and Link nodded. “Watch me first.”

Mineru whistled and a construct, an ugly thing with an L-shaped horn on its head, reared forward. It swung a glittering blue blade, and Rauru didn’t even try to dodge. Instead, he swept his hand up, his third eye flashing, and his stone glowed pale yellow-white, the light moving with the movement of his arm, before solidifying into a kind of shield. The blade stuttered where it met the shield, white-hot light moving up the construct’s arm, and it collapsed into a heap. A second charged, then a third, and Rauru sent them spiraling back with another swipe of his arm. A fourth crept closer and Rauru held out a palm—there was a sudden stillness, complete silence, as if the world around them was ringing with anticipation before light shot from his clawed prosthetic and ripped through the construct. It collapsed in a heap of parts.

Under the gazebo, Sonia clapped. Ganondorf’s face was unreadable, eyes somehow both far away and fixated on Rauru’s right arm. The prosthetic glowed, and even though Ganondorf was too far away to be touched by its light, shadows seemed to dance on his face.

Danger! Fi chimed at Link’s waist, Danger!

A Twinrova wolf-whistled, and the moment was broken.

‘Peace,’ Link sent down the mental link between him and the Master Sword. ‘Everything is fine. No danger.’

The sword seemed to grumble, almost petulant, but made no further comment.

“Are you ready?” Mineru called as Rauru rolled his shoulders back. The Zonai didn’t have a single hair out of place, not a single bead of sweat on his fur. The world around him flickered with a bright glow for a few moments before fizzling out, the stone losing its brightness.

“You can do this!” Sonia called from across the way, and Link flexed his fingers.

“Remember, you aren’t controlling it, you are channeling it. It already wants to move the same way you do, you just have to give it a way out. We’ll take it slow, alright?” Rauru said, and Link gave a nod that looked far more certain than he felt.

“Good. Now, Mineru, if you please.”

“Construct 2.87, move forward,” Mineru called.

A construct with a single, simple horn moved forward, brandishing a blue sword in one hand and a glowing shield in the other.

“Construct 2.87, proceed.”

Link breathed in, held the breath, and let it out. The construct surged forward, blade singing, and Link dove out of the way, circling the robot. It swung again, and again Link jumped back. Link was hyper-aware of the many pairs of eyes on his back. The construct gave up on its blind swinging and began to spin, pulling in its shield and lashing out with its sword in a sloppy spin attack. Link let it get closer, closer, before vaulting backward in a perfect backflip. The world slowed, the air becoming heavy around him as his back arched into a flurry rush, the stone growing impossibly cold and blindingly hot in his hand. His whole arm nearly vibrated with the power radiating from the stone. But he had no sword to draw. The Master Sword sang at his side, begging, demanding, to be held, but he couldn’t. No weapons. Just magic.

“Nice footwork!” One of TWinrova shouted from the gazebo. “Can we see some flashy lights, though?”

Link grit his teeth. Landing deftly on his feet, he thrust a hand out. He was a prism. The stone was the rainbow and he was making it light.

Nothing happened. Link didn’t manage to dodge the spin attack this time, behind hit full in the chest with the blade. It didn’t hurt, just a sizzle of electricity zapping his stomach, but it certainly didn’t feel good, and embarrassment crept up Link’s cheeks.

The construct stopped.

“Are you alright?” Rauru said softly, suddenly at Link’s side. Link nodded through his clenched jaw. “Good. Let’s take a break.”

"Again,” he signed, and Rauru frowned.

“Link—”

“Again!”

“Okay…” Rauru cleared his voice and straightened. “Very well. Prepare yourself. Construct 2.87, proceed.”

The construct reared back with surprising speed, and Link had to bumble out of its way to avoid another swipe of electricity. It swung, he dodged. It stabbed, he ducked—Fi screamed at his side, demanding to be drawn, chiming audibly this time, glowing an unstable, flickering blue that crackled with electricity and ozone.

Behind him, Ganondorf’s eyes were wide, fixated on the haywire glow of the sword, on its desperate chimes, which had grown in volume to near screams.

Draw me! Draw me!

Link dove under the construct, inches away from its electrical blade, the heat of it just missing his ear. The thing turned with wicked speed, and Link threw his hand forward. He envisioned light moving from the stone in his scabbard, up his chest, and out his arm, growing, growing, splintering into a kaleidoscope of color. Nothing. Link let out a frustrated growl, moving backward and swiping his hand across and in front of him as he had seen Rauru do. He was a prism. He was a prism. He was—

Fuck!

The construct caught his side and Link stumbled back, grabbing at the skin with a hiss.

“Link—” Link heard Rauru call, “I think we should take a break.”

Link shook his head vigorously. He could do this. He could do this.

The construct surged forward, and again Link rose up to meet it, hands thrust in front of him. Nothing. Just a flicker of electricity where the construct caught him, not enough to burn but surely enough to hurt. Link growled.

Draw me!

‘Stop it!’ He hissed through the mental link, ‘I can do this!’

The construct changed its tactic, pushing Link back with its shield, closer and closer to the gazebo and away from the open air of the gardens, making it harder and harder to dance around it. And then—then—

Then—

Its eye lit up, red and flashing. It gained speed, steadily, steadily, and Link suddenly couldn’t breathe.

(Link tastes blood. It coats his tongue, his teeth, his gums, and with each breath it threatens to drip down his chin in thick, gooey stands.)

The eye was flashing, and would beep and explode soon, Link just knew it—

(The pain from the arrowhead in his calf has faded at some point, overshadowed by everything else. He has broken ribs, he’s sure of it, likely from being thrown into a tree by the shrapnel of a guardian’s blast. They cut into his lungs, making each breath more painful than the last. He’s taken to short, shallow lungfuls of air, hoping to ease the pain. Oh, what he would give to breathe deeply.)

It would explode into a flash of white, burning light—

(Something is burnt. He can smell fired hair and flesh, and he thinks it might be somewhere on his back, but he isn’t sure. Link hasn’t exactly had the time to run down any injuries. His head thunders—he can’t focus his eyes, which was probably bad.

He can’t feel his left arm. He can’t move it. He knows that’s bad. A guardian had hit him in the side point blank and the arm had taken the brunt of the damage. The blood is so thick it is black, spiderwebbing through his Champion’s tunic, and it refuses to congeal.

Ha. Some Champion he turned out to be.)

It was going to kill them all.

(The Master Sword is limp in his right hand. He was never very good at fighting right-handed.

The Princess is speaking to him. He knows because he can see her mouth moving, her beautiful face speckled in blood, but Link cannot hear her voice. Just the ringing in his ears.

“Link, save yourself, go! I’ll be fine, I—I always am, please!”

Link steals himself at the sight of the sheer number of mechanical monsters glowing around them. He had hoped Fort Hateno would serve some safety after hearing the Citadel had fallen but the guardians had beat them there.

Three, seven, twelve… Link gives up counting. Red beams find his face. He knew he could die fighting Calamity Ganon, but he had always imagined actually dying to Calamity Ganon. Not a glowing machine. He raises his sword, forcing air through his nose---

“NO!”)

Link forced his eyes closed against the blinding light in front of him. It was golden and pure and perfect, and all he could see. His hip burned where the secret stone sat, glowing searing gold and green, the light growing, growing until it engulfed him. His hands ached from where he’d thrown them up, light pooling around him, drawing on his fear, on his longing.

Zelda. Was this how she felt, as she protected his charred, dying body?

Link lowered his hands, panting. Where the construct had once been was nothing but a pile of ash, and the gardens in front of him had been decimated. He could only hear the ringing in his ears, and Zelda’s voice, echoing from all those years ago.

Open your eyes. Open your—

Link squeezed his eyes shut and slowly opened them. There was no danger. There had never been any danger. The robot hadn’t been a guardian, it had been a construct, ultimately harmless. Everyone was fine.

Link dropped to his knees. There were hands on him, but he was too tired to shake them off. Someone was speaking softly to him, the voice gentle, and a hand wiped the sweat from his brow and held a cup of water out to him. Gingerly, Link took it.

“Slow sips, that’s it, slowly,” Sonai said softly, running a hand through his hair. “You overexerted yourself quite a bit. So much magic is unwise for someone who is new to the concept of stones.”

Link leaned into her hand, taking long, slow sips of water.

“There, how do you feel?”

 “Better,” Link lied, barely able to form the words with his shaky hands, and Sonai pursed her lips.

“Come, come, let’s sit,” She said, helping him to his feet and guiding him to the gazebo. “I will say, we weren’t expecting that!”

Link flushed and Sonia squeezed his hand. “I mean it kindly, dear.”

She pulled out a chair for him and helped him sit, and if Link hadn’t felt so exhausted, he would have been embarrassed. He didn’t have it in them to tell them that the exhaustion came just as much from the flashback as it did from the magic.

He didn’t like thinking about the day he died. But that flashing eye… it had looked all too similar. Link fought a shudder. He could taste blood in the back of his throat, the burn of his left arm, the piercing pain in each breath from his broken ribs.

He could hear Zelda’s begging for her failure of a Champion to live.

Link took a deep breath. That was behind him. That was far, far behind him. He needn’t dwell on such things.

Across from him, Ganondorf raised a red brow and Link gave him a shaky smile.

“I’m fine,” He mouthed, but Ganondorf didn’t look convinced.

“I guess we did ask for a light show,” one of Twinrova said, and the other one nodded with a low whistle.

“I think we’re done for the day,” Rauru said, and Link frowned.

“Link, if you think I’m going to let you try that again, you are sorely mistaken,” he said, not unkindly, and Ganondorf nodded.

“Making yourself sick helps no one, little one." He said, voice gruff but still surprisingly kind—even Twinrova glanced at him, their surprise almost hidden by their masks, and Sonia beamed at him.

“I shall go fetch some stamina elixir,” Mineru said, eyeing the ashen husk that had been the castle gardens.

“Yes, good. I think that will help splendidly,” Sonai said, and Rauru nodded.

“Twinrova, Ganondorf—would you be so kind as to join me?” Mineru said. The women looked up at her in surprise.

“I think it would be best for Link to have some space right now.”

Link’s hand shot out and grabbed Ganondorf’s sleeve. He shook his head, and Mineru raised an elegant eyebrow.

“Are you sure?”

Link nodded, and Mineru’s face was unreadable.

“Very well. Twinrove—”

“Go with her,” Ganondorf said.

“My Lord—” Twinrova started, their voices slipping into a single sound.

“Go, make yourself useful,” Ganondorf said, though there was a smile in his voice. Twinrova huffed, standing as one, and turned on their heels, marching after Mineru. Link slunk down in his chair.

“You didn’t have to send them away,” he signed, and Ganondorf laughed softly.

“They would have just pestered you, and I don’t think any of us want to listen to them gabber. You all haven’t had the pleasure of watching them finish each other’s sentences for hours on end. Just wait till they start speaking every other word for each other and talking in circles around everyone in the room. I swear, they do it just to annoy me…. But they are family. Family sticks beside each other, no matter what.”

Sonia nodded. At her prodding, Link took a lukewarm cup of tea and took a sip. It was sweet and floral, with an aftertaste that could only be described as ‘silver’, and Link’s heart dropped.

Silent princesses. It had been brewed with silent princesses, an extremely expensive, extremely rare tea that Zelda detested, saying it was atrocious to butcher an endangered species just for a beautifully smooth cup of tea. She preferred hyrulian herb, saying the common, economical plant and its bold flavor (which Link thought resembled a mouthful of grass more than anything) made it the perfect drink for an early morning of research.

Link suddenly felt nauseous, but he didn’t want to appear rude. He downed the tea in one go and pretended he couldn’t feel Zelda’s eyes on him, her lips pursed, her brows narrowed.

He longed to brush a strand of her hair, far shorter now than it had ever been, behind her ear and smooth out the crease between her brows with his thumb. He’d cut her hair himself after a particularly violent nightmare left his princess in hysterics in their bed, convinced she could feel Ganon’s malice on her skin, in her hair, in her blood. The tactile hallucinations weren’t common, only on the worst of nights, but once it became clear that, like the nightmares, they weren’t going anywhere soon, Link had done away with his bed downstairs and began sharing the one in the loft with Zelda. Sometimes, his presence was enough to soothe her, and he’d hold her and whisper to her and wash her face and brush her hair, searching the house’s shadows to prove they were alone, that they were safe—some nights, like that one, his actions weren’t enough.

She’d grabbed the knife he kept under his pillow and began hacking at handful after handful of hair, determined to get out the lingering malice. Link had to wrestle the knife out of her hand and hold her still, his princess crying and thrashing and demanding the Beast free her, that she would never let it win, that she would take it down with her, that she would kill them both.

By the time she calmed down and Link got her to sleep, blood and golden hair littered their sheets and the loft floor, and Link had prepared. When she woke, hours later, the bathwater was still warm, heated by a well-placed fire rod, and Link had the brushes and scissors ready.

“I’ll help you cut it.” He had whispered. She’d scrubbed her skin until it was red and stinging, the water pink from the shallow cuts from her nails and blind hacking the night before, then sat in the water with her head tilted back, neck presented to Link.

“Are you sure?” He asked, and she nodded.

“I want it off,” she said, “Like—like some sort of new beginning. A sign that the world is changing.”

Link shifted till he was behind her, and with careful hands made his first cut, right at the shoulders. Clumps of tangled blond hair fell to the ground and Zelda let out a tiny sound. He moved with steady hands and sliced through tangles until a pile of hair sat on the ground. He brushed the yellow strands off her bare shoulders. Blond hair brushed her cheekbones, curling by her chin, and Zelda twisted her head to smile at him.

“How do I look?”

“New.”

“Perfect.”

She had looked perfect. She was covered in sweat, bath water, and chopped hair, eyes dark from a fitful night’s sleep, and still Zelda had looked absolutely perfect.

Link’s body felt cold, an ache deep, deep in his ribcage, a Zelda-shaped hole that yearned to be filled. His grasp on the cup softened and the porcelain slipped through his fingers.

Shit!

Link dove for the cup but it hovered in the air, glowing gold. The sound of ticking filled the air, and then it rose backward and slotted itself back in his hand. Sonia reached forward and gently took it from him, placing it on the table in front of him.

“Link? Are you well?”

Link nodded. It was unconvincing.

“What troubles you?”

“Nothing.”

“Link…” The corner of Sonia’s lip quirked, and she squeezed his hand. “We’re all friends here.”

Link sighed.

“I’m sorry. Just… lost in my thoughts.”

“Oh?”

“I—I keep thinking of home.”

“Ah.” Sonia said, leaning back. “A heavy thought indeed.”

Link ran the edge of his finger along the lip of his cup. “You have such mastery over your powers, you and Rauru. If I could learn that kind of control…”

Rauru set a hand on Link’s shoulder. “It takes—”

“Time, yes, I know, but I don’t have time!”

“Link—”

“My home is in danger, Your Majesty! People could be dying, my partner could be dying, and I don’t even have a way to know what is happening—!”

“Link!” Ganondorf snapped, and Link’s hands froze. “Panicking will do no one any good, and it will certainly do your land no good at all. Calm yourself.”

Link swallowed.

“You are far from home. There are unknowns at every corner—it is the same for me. I know how you feel. You cannot let this best you.”

“Okay.” He signed, hands small. “Okay.”

“Here,” Sonia took Link’s hand and placed it on the edge of the cup. “With my magic… the secret is to think of drawing out the object’s memory. You ask where it came from, where it was, where it is in the present, and then gently ask it to return.”

Ganondorf leaned forward. “I didn’t realize different stones could act so differently.”

“No, the stones all work the same. It is the person that alters how they work. Ra’s power to banish darkness—that comes from within. Mineru’s control over spirits—that comes from within. My ability to manipulate time, and Link’s own protective light—all of it comes from within.”

“How would one know what their power is—just simple curiosity, of course?”  

“Not everyone has innate magic; some are born with strong magical ties, some can learn it, and some’s magical wells are dry.”

“Interesting,” Ganondorf said, leaning back in his chair. Rauru stayed behind Link, clawed hands on his shoulders. He seemed… uncomfortable with the conversation at hand, and while Sonia had obviously noticed, she didn’t seem to care.

“The stones are complicated to use, but their rules are simple. Power is channeled and amplified. Magic is performed. Repeat.”

Ganondorf nodded slowly. “I see. Are they always so difficult to use?”

Sonia made a so-so motion with her hands. “Depends on the bearer’s control over their own magic to begin with. I was always strongly connected to my magic, so the stone’s power came naturally to me. Ra struggled greatly when he was younger, or so Mineru tells me.”

“Sonia!” Rauru cried, and his wife laughed, throwing back her head.

“Peace, Ra, we’re among friends. Anyways, Link, I’m sure the magic will become second nature in time, and you will find your way home. Though, I’m sure you are missing more than just home.”

Link blinked. “What?”

Sonia’s smile grew. “The princess you spoke so highly to me about is waiting for you as well, is she not?”

“Oh? A princess? Your Zelda?” Rauru asked, smile clear in his voice, and Link buried his face in his hands. Rauru chuckled as Link’s ears burned.

“Yes, you must make it home to put her mind at ease,” Sonia said, leaning to pull Link’s hand from his face, squeezing them gently.

“That’s the woman you mentioned last night,” Ganondorf said, eyes bright, and Link groaned. “I thought you said there was nothing between you?”

“There isn’t!”

“Have you discussed this girl in depth with everyone but me?” Rauru’s tone was teasing, and Link wished the ground would swallow him up. “Go on!”

“Zelda is a... is my princess. I was originally assigned to her as her royal bodyguard many, many years ago, and I have served her since. She and I… she didn’t like me very much, at first. Her father was a terrible man, and he pushed his expectations onto her in a way that no one could handle, no matter how strong. But when a great Calamity attacked, she proved to be a formidable leader with a brilliant, holy power unlike anything I’ve ever seen. When I failed to stop the Beast, it ravaged the continent, destroying everything in its path. I was unable to stop it, and it fell to ruin—worse than ruin. But Zelda… she saved them all with her power, destroyed the Calamity once and for all. And she’s more than just her power… She’s intelligent, and creative, with a drive like no other. She’s a researcher more than a princess and is more at home in the wilds than she is with a crown, but she still leads brilliantly, with a kind, wise hand.

She’s dedicated, and determined, and would never back down from a challenge, even when there is nothing in it for her. She would never abandon someone in need, no matter the stakes of helping them. She’s faced a fate worse than death for her people before, and she would again in a heartbeat. It terrifies me.” Link sighed.

“She is very brave…” Link’s hands trailed off, his heart pounding in his chest. “And… and her heart is wise, and true…”

The gazebo was quiet. Sonia’s face was soft and open, her eyes sad, and Rauru squeezed Link’s shoulder, his touch grounding. Ganondorf’s face was completely unreadable, his eyes shadowed. He wasn’t looking at Link’s face, or his hands, instead his gaze trailing far, far away.

“You sound like you have complete faith in her,” Rauru said gently, and Link nodded. “Hearing you speak so highly of her, well, it makes me wish I could meet her as well.”

“You care deeply for her,” Ganondorf said finally, meeting Link’s eyes.

“Yes.”

“You would die for her.”

“… Yes.”

“Then why leave her to come to Hyrule?”

Link’s hands stuttered. “I…”

“Why come here? Why not fight your mummy beside her, sword be damned?”

“Ganondorf…” Rauru said warningly, and the Gerudo man ignored him.

“I was taken far away from her, forced to leave her behind.”

“Link, dear, you don’t owe anyone any explanation—” Sonia started, but Link cut her off.

“I didn’t have a choice! I didn’t want to go! I don’t want to be here! I want to go home!”  A lump had grown in Link’s throat, and much to his horror he found the Zelda-sized hole in his chest had filled itself with tears and begun to spill over, salt water filling his water line. “I want to go home!”

Ganondorf was quiet, face steeped in something unreadable as Sonia moved to Link’s side and pulled him close.

“Then go home,” Ganondorf said bluntly. “Sword be damned.”

“I can’t.” Link hissed. Rauru gave a full-bodied flinch at Link’s raspy, wet voice, eyes wide. It was the first the Zonai had heard it. “She’s centuries away. Millenium.”

“…What?” Ganondorf asked, brows far up on his forehead.

“Link, are you sure that is wise—” Rauru said, leaning closer, and Link shoved him and his wife off.

“I found the mummy under Hyrule Castle—my Hyrule Castle, millennium and millennium from now, far into the future. I found the stone and it brought me here, to the past, and I’m fucking stuck while Zelda is alone out there, saving Hyrule by herself again because I cannot be depended on!”

Link’s voice gave out, emotion too strong to keep his tongue moving, and Ganondorf’s eyes were wide.

“The… future?”

Link gave a bleary, tearful nod.

 Ganondorf was silent. “The future.”

“Ganondorf—” Rauru said warningly, “I will not have you—”

“No, no, I believe him. The sword, then, it’s more than just a sword, isn’t it?”

“It’s called the Master Sword.” Link mumbled. “The Blade of Evil’s Bane. A sword of pure light forged by a Chosen Hero.”

“Must not be that grand of a sword if a mummy can break it.”

“That’s why I must fix it before I can go back. I must.”

“You don’t even know how to get back to begin with, do you?”

Link’s cheeks burned as he nodded. “No. No, I don’t.”

“I think that’s more than enough,” Sonia said softly, pulling Link’s head to her breast.

“The Gerudo—what of them, all those years from now? Are we strong? Are we thriving?”

Link swallowed. “They’re surviving.”

“But not thriving?”

“The Calamity… it took a toll on everyone. No one is thriving.”

“The Calamity you failed to stop. The Beast you let ravish the continent.”

Link nodded numbly, ignoring Sonia’s and Rauru’s protests.

“What of the Chief?” Ganondorf continued.

“Riju is doing her best.”

“So, a Gerudo still sits on the throne? Is she a warrior, a magician?”

“She will be, one day.”

“What?”

“She’s a child.”

“… A… child.”

“Yes.”

“The Gerudo have fallen so far as to let a child rule?”

“These are desperate times! Riju is doing her best!”

“She shouldn’t be there at all!”

“Zelda is helping the best she can—”

“The Gerudo government is allied with your Hylian princess?”

“There isn’t really enough government to be allied with anyone.”

“What?”

“I mean, there’s Gerudo Town, and that’s it.”

Ganondorf reeled back. “One town? One damn, fucking town?”

“Times have been hard on everyone. No one was left unscathed from the Calamity.”

“The Calamity you were unsuccessful at defeating. That destroyed the continent—and my people—until your princess picked up your mess and saved the day?”

Link took in a sharp breath. “I— Yes.”

“So you admit it—that you were so inept, so incapable, that my people were demolished before your Zelda destroyed this Calamity?”

“We did our best!”

“It was not enough!” Ganondorf roared, and Link’s mouth shut with a click of his teeth.

“I think that is more than enough,” Sonia said, voice harder than Link had ever heard it. “Lord Ganondorf, my husband will escort you back to your sisters.”

Ganondorf stood, his massive body clattering the table as he did so.

“Very well.”

Rauru moved away from Link, instead stalking over to the Gerudo king and taking hold of his elbow. Link squeezed his eye shut. He didn’t want to see the man escorted away. There was a ruffle of fabric as Sonia knelt in front of him. She cupped his face with her hands.

“Are you there, little hero?”

“Don’t call me that.”

“What, little? You are after all.”

“No. Hero.”

“Link—”

“You don’t know how badly I failed, Sonia. I died fighting the Calamity. I had to be brought back. I’m the reason Gerudo Town is a fucking town and not a sprawling civilization. I’m the reason a child is on the throne. It’s all my fault. No saving the day or sealing the Beast or carrying a fancy sword will fix that.”

Sonia clicked her tongue, running his fingers through his hair.

“I think that’s a bunch of poppycock. Utter nonsense. Link. Trust me when I say that no disaster is ever entirely one person’s fault, no matter how big or small. You did not create your Calamity. You defeated it, even if it took longer than one might hope—”

“A hundred years.”

“Wha--?”

“I took a hundred years.”

“O-oh. Well. You look very good for one hundred and twenty-something.”

Link snorted. “You should see my burn scars.”

“You’re still very handsome, scars and all.”

“I miss home,” Link said softly, all wet syllables and muddy vowels.

“I know, sweetheart. I’m sorry. We’ll get you home.”

“I miss Zelda.”

“I’ll get you home to her somehow, little hero. I promise.”

Link let himself melt into her hold, and thought for a bitter moment that Sonia shouldn’t make promises she couldn’t keep.

---

Rage rumbled in Ganondorf’s chest like a bass drum, staccato and trembling, shaking with the power of the beats. The mighty tribe of the Gerudo, the massive civilization, decimated to a town led by a child by the weakness of those who were supposed to protect them.

Calamity? If Link and this Zelda were the massive powerhouses they claimed to be, then such a creature should have been handled long before it had the chance to annihilate his people!

Something had to be done. Link being here meant that Ganondorf had a head, had a glimpse at the future—had a chance to stop it. The Gerudo as they were now were strong but vulnerable. Hyrule loomed over them, hiding away an immeasurable power—multiple! Seven stones!—that could be used to secure his people’s place on the map.

The answer was clear. He needed a stone. He needed one, and if he had to pry it from Rauru’s dead claws, then, Din forgive him, he would. He would not let his people fall.

And then there was Link. Link, from the future. Link who had failed his people. Link, who was letting a child rebuild Ganondorf’s civilization. Link and his princess.

Link, who had a stone.

Ganondorf deserved that stone more than a sniveling failure. More than someone who would let his people be demolished. Let Link cry into his queen’s arms while he failed at basic magic. Let Link whine and moan about his princess and his home.

Ganondorf let Rauru lead him away, the bass drum in his chest pounding, pounding, pounding. Very well. Let Link see what a real magic user could do.

The Zonai secret stone would be his, and Ganondorf didn’t care how bloody he had to make his hands to get it.

[moonykore]

BACKLOG OF GAMES

THIS IS THE LIST OF GAMES THAT I OWN. They are tagged with:

[completed, played on stream, VOD unavailable] indicates exactly what it says. The VOD is unavailable for any reason. I can play it again.

[completed off stream] this one indicates that even if I already played it I'm willing to play it again on stream.

[video here] which means that there is a video or more on my channel

[completed on stream, video/vod soon] which means that the vod or video will be uploaded soon.

────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆.──────

GAMES

Little Misfortune [completed, played on stream, VOD unavailable]

3 O'clock Horror

Arruyo

Disco Elysium [completed off stream]

Life is Strange 2

The Outcast Lovers

A Raven Monologue

Subnautica

Tell Me Why

The Walking Dead [completed off stream]

What Never Was

Where the Water Tastes Like Wine

The Backroom - Lost and Found

Champ's nightmare

Classified Stories: Color out of space

Escape Room - The Sick Colleague

Fungiman

I'm on observation duty

It's dark

Our elusive suffering

Poppy Playtime

Samsara Room

Scarlet Hollow - Episode 1

SCP: Nukalypse

Solitude Underwater

Video Horror Society

Among Us [videos here]

Stardew Valley [videos here]

Dead By Daylight

Payday 2

The Timeless Child

We Were Here

Ann

Annie and the Art Gallery

Skyrim [completed off stream]

Milk inside a bag of milk inside a bag of milk

Moon hunters

Princess remedy in a world of hurt

The Rabbit's Scroll

To the Moon

Tower Princess: Knight's Trial

Wicked Games

Without End

You Will (Not) Remain

Yume Nikki

911 Operator

Cult of the lamb

My child lebensborn

Swallow the Sea

theHunter: Call of the Wild

Ballads At Midnight

Find Love or Die Trying

My Therapy

non-binary

one night, hot springs

Purgatory

A Taste of the Past

Who is The Red Queen?

Brothers: A Tale of Two Sons

Dark Deception

Despotism 3k

The Doll Beneath

The Night Fisherman

Dungeon of the ENDLESS

The End of it All

Equinox

Eragon's tale

The Good Time Garden

Grimm's Hollow

Gun Witch

Hollow Knight

Jesus Christ RPG Trilogy

Kach

Lay

Little Nightmares

The Looker

Mansions of Madness

Marie's Room

Martial Law

missed messages.

NEEDY GIRL OVERDOSE [completed on stream, vod unavailable]

Ori and the Blind Forest.

Outbreak Island

A Plague Tale: Innocence [completed off stream]

Alba: A Wildlife Adventure

Alien: Isolation [completed off stream]

Amnesia: Rebirth

Ancient Enemy

Ark

Bioshock Trilogy

City of Brass

Darkwood

Fallout 3

Evil Dead: the game

Filament

Frostpunk

Gods Will Fall

Hell is other demons

Hundred Days

Insurmountable

Iratus

Jotun

Maneater

Neverwinter

Nioh

Paradigm

Path of Exile

Prey

Quake

Ring of Pain

Tomb Raider: Anniversary [completed off stream]

Tomb Raider: Legend [completed off stream]

Tomb Raider: Underworld [completed off stream]

Tomb Raider 2013 [completed off stream]

Rise of the Tomb Raider

Shadow of the Tomb Raider

Rising Hell

Saturnalia

Tharsis

Wytchwood

The Vanishing of Ethan Carter

Terraria

Runaway Trilogy [completed off stream]

Secret Files: Tunguska [completed off stream]

Secret Files: Puritas Cordis [completed off stream]

King of Seas

Fallout: new vegas

Coffee Noir

Dagon

The Darkest Tales

Beyond Good and Evil [completed off stream]

Dex

Against the Moon

A Space for the Unbound

Lucifer within us [completed on stream, video/vod soon]

Cafe in the Clouds

Lavender

7 days in the fire mountain

Butterfly Soup

Lovewood

Winterlore I

Winterlore II

Latide's Plane

Me and My Eldritch Parasite

6 Feet Behind

Nameless - The Departed Cycle

Hampton Court

Roseblight

Doll House

Dear Mom

False Protagonists: A Queer Magical Story About The Rest Of Us

We are bonded kin

Bales of Amber

In your wiggly eyes

Zeitz Mach

Not Alone

Cerulean

Pillars on Poppy Hills

Grunge

Boiling Over

Finding Felicia

Dandelions

National Park Girls

To Kill a Black Swan

Song of the hunt

Make it Last

Terranova

Good Morning Hun

Inverness Nights

Lucah: Born of a Dream

Ciao Nonna

Brassica: A Marry Tale

Winter

Snow Angel

VISIGOTHS vs MALL GOTHS

Apartmen No.9

Pinewood Island

We should talk

All in Love and War.

A Normal Lost Phone.

The Morning Star.

Co-open.

My Alien Roomate.

What's your gender?

Stillwater.

Lookouts.

Symbiosis.

Candylight.

Bunflower.

Lunarrota.

Dark Sheep.

Redd's Runaway.

The Lost Cave of the Ozarks.

Sonny

Fo|rest

Project Mallow

Knight Bewitched

Lost dreams

Back to bed

Lydia

Meta Form

Prison of the magi

Bringris

Murder at the cat Show.

Wonderland Nights: White Rabbit's Diary

Infini

The Tower: The Order of XIII

Without Escape

Roll for Confidence.

RB: Axolotl

Planet Driver

Wheels of Aurelia

No Think

The Light at the End of the Ocean

Nauticrawl

Marginalia

MMM: Murder Most Unfortunate

Paranoihell

Self-Checkout Unlimited

Four Horsemen

Luna

Tales From Windy Meadow.

Bonbon

Amelie

Glittermitten Grove

Homunculus Hotel

Pendula Swing

Midnight Scenes

Explorers

Hero Hours Contact

Reminiscence in the Night

The Lost Night

Pixel Fireplace

Pumpkin Eater

Pale Cachexia

Be Not Afraid

Old Man's Journey

Bard Harder

The Black Iris

Democratic Socialism Simulator

Death and Taxes

Highway Blossoms

Changeling

Sagebrush

Midnight Scenes Ep. 1 & 2

Long Gone Days

Arcade Spirits

A Mortician's Tale

They Bleed Pixels

Sunlight

TowerFall Dar World Expansion

Shattered Planet

Promesa

Celeste

Bury me, my love

A Short Hike

Sundered: Eldritch Edition

Fatum Betula

INMOST

Evergate

Cloud Gardens

[thatbookgirl1212]

Introduction

So, nice to meet you. I’m that book-obsessed girl. You can call me M, or whatever you want really. I like Taylor Swift, reading, Olivia Rodrigo, mysteries, writing and art. If you have anything you’d like to see me read, just tell me! I’ll add it to the ever-growing list below.

Where to read?

So you can’t afford to buy a ton of books. Me neither, well I just don’t want to. I have a couple websites I use for reading.

Pdfseva.com

Ebookscart.com

libgen.rs (use ad blocker)

libgen.is (use ad blocker)

libgen.st (use ad blocker)

oceanofpdf.com

My to-be-read list

now playing: london boy by taylor swift

1. Midnight Strikes by Zeba Shahnaz

2. Red, White, and Royal Blue by Casey McQuinston

3. Malibu Rising by Taylor Jenkins Reid

4. The Summer of Broken Rules by K.L Walther

5. One of us is lying by Karen M. McManus

6. Better than The Movies by Lynn Painter

7. The Spanish Love Deception by Elena Armas

8. Daughter of the Moon Goddess by Sue Lynn Tan

9. One True Loves by Taylor Jenkins Reid

10. American Royals by Katharine Mcgee

11. They both die at the end by Adam Silvera

12. The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller

13. Never Getting Back Together by Sophie Gonzalez

14. A Court of Thorns and Roses by Sarah J. Maas

15. The Inheritance Games by Jennifer Lynn Barnes

16. If we were villains by M. L Rio

17. I am not your final girl by Claire C. Howard

Read

1. The Summer I turned Pretty, It’s not summer without you, We’ll always have summer by Jenny Han

2. The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo by Taylor Jenkins Reid

3. A good girl’s guide to murder, “Good girl, bad blood,” and As good as dead, by Holly Jackson

4. Percy Jackson’s series up to the trials of Apollo

5. Harry Potter

6. Heartless by Marissa Myers

7. The Hunger Games, Catching Fire, Mockingjay, and A Ballad Of Songbirds and Snakes by Suzanne Collins

8. The Playlist by Morgan Elizabeth

9. I am not your final girl by Claire C. Holland

And more that aren’t listed, these are just my favorites or most recents.