#Craggy Island
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#OTD in 1998 â Death of one of TVâs best-loved comedy stars, Dermot Morgan, who played Father Ted.
Death of comedian and actor Dermot Morgan aged 47 from a heart attack. Morgan was one of the most popular comedy actors on Irish and UK TV during the 1990s. His most successful work was in the wildly successful Father Ted series where he played a dysfunctional scheming priest Father Ted Crilly who lived on Craggy Island somewhere off the coast of Ireland. Morgan and the show itself won BAFTAâŚ
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#BAFTA#Craggy Island#Dermot Morgan#Father Jack#Father Ted#Father Ted Crilly#Frank Kelly#Ireland#Irish Comedy#Parkinson&039;s Disease#UK
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Can you please do Jacaerys x male reader who is daemon oldest son, weâre Jace admires reader and they fall in love
Valyrian Hearts
- Summary: Jacaerys makes a confession that changes your world, and his.
- Paring: male!reader/Jacaerys Velaryon
- Note: The reader is Daemon's oldest son.
- Rating: Mature 16+
- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @literaturedog
The wind was fierce on Dragonstone, whipping against the castle walls and through the narrow corridors with the sharp bite of sea salt. The air was thick with the scent of ash and brine, and the deep rumble of dragons echoed through the craggy cliffs like thunder. You had grown accustomed to the sound, the heartbeat of the ancient island that now housed your familyâthough it seemed larger now, fuller. Daemon had brought you here with his daughters, and with Rhaenyra's brood, the keep was filled with the footsteps of children and the murmur of voices plotting the future of the realm.
Jacaerys was among them, his presence always a steady one. You had known him most of your life, seen him grow from an awkward boy into a young man with the weight of responsibility heavy on his shoulders. You had never thought much of it, not until recently.
You stood on the blackened stones of the courtyard, Vermithorâs massive form looming behind you. His bronze scales gleamed in the dim light of the afternoon, and you ran a hand over his side, feeling the heat of him seep into your skin. He huffed, a great cloud of steam escaping his nostrils, and you chuckled, whispering soothing words in High Valyrian.
âY/N.â
You turned at the sound of your name, or rather, the closest approximation to it since your family had taken to calling you by your title more often. Jacaerys stood a few paces away, his dark eyes bright in the grey light, a hesitant smile on his lips.
âJace,â you greeted, stepping away from Vermithor. âWhat brings you out here?â
âI thought I might join you,â he said, gesturing awkwardly to the dragon behind you. âIâve never seen Vermithor up close.â
You raised an eyebrow, surprised. âI thought youâd be more interested in Syrax or Caraxes.â
Jacaerys shook his head, a lock of dark hair falling into his eyes. âTheyâre both magnificent, but thereâs something about Vermithor⌠Heâs a legend.â
You glanced back at your dragon, who was watching Jacaerys with an almost curious expression. âHeâs old, and wise. Heâs seen more than most of us ever will.â You paused, then added, âDo you want to come closer?â
Jacaerys hesitated, then nodded. You held out a hand, and he took it, his grip warm and firm. Together, you approached Vermithor, and you felt a thrill of pride as your dragon lowered his massive head, allowing Jacaerys to place a tentative hand on his snout.
âHeâs⌠incredible,â Jacaerys breathed, his eyes wide with awe.
âHe is,â you agreed softly, watching the way his fingers brushed against the bronze scales, gentle and reverent. âHeâs the largest living dragon after Vhagar.â
âI wish Vermax would grow like this,â Jacaerys said, a note of longing in his voice.
You chuckled. âGive him time. Heâs still young.â
Jacaerys smiled, but there was a wistfulness in his gaze that made your chest tighten. You squeezed his hand, and he looked up at you, his expression suddenly vulnerable.
âY/N,â he began, his voice quieter now, almost uncertain. âI⌠I wanted to thank you.â
âFor what?â
âFor being here,â he said, his words tumbling out in a rush. âFor being⌠you. Youâre strong, like your father, but youâre kind, too. Youâve always been kind to me, even when you didnât have to be.â
You blinked, taken aback. âOf course Iâm kind to you, Jace. Youâre family.â
âI know,â he said, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. âBut it means more to me than you know.â
Something in his tone made your heart beat faster. You had always seen Jacaerys as a younger brother, someone to protect and guide, but now, standing so close, his eyes locked on yours, you realized there was more to his gaze than simple gratitude.
âJace, Iââ
Whatever you were about to say was lost as he stepped closer, his hand still clasped in yours, his body radiating warmth in the cool air. You could feel his breath against your cheek, and the intensity of his gaze made your stomach flutter.
âI donât know when it happened,â he whispered, his voice barely audible over the distant roar of the sea. âBut I canât stop thinking about you.â
Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him, your mind racing. This was Jacaerys, the boy you had watched grow up, the son of your fatherâs wife, the cousin you had sworn to protect. But the way he looked at you now, the way his hand tightened around yours, it was clear that his feelings were not those of a boy, but of a man.
âJaceâŚâ you began, struggling to find the right words.
He shook his head, cutting you off. âI know itâs wrong. I know you probably donât feel the same, but I had to tell you. I had toâŚâ
You could see the fear in his eyes, the worry that he had ruined something precious between you. And in that moment, you knew that no matter what you said, no matter how you felt, you could never hurt him.
âI donât know what to say,â you admitted, your voice thick with emotion. âIâve never thought of us like that.â
He nodded, his gaze dropping to the ground. âI understand.â
You lifted your hand, cupping his cheek, forcing him to look at you. âBut that doesnât mean I canât.â
His eyes widened, hope and disbelief warring in his expression. âReally?â
You smiled, a small, tentative thing. âReally.â
For a long moment, you just stood there, the world around you fading into the background. Vermithor rumbled softly, a sound that seemed almost approving, and you laughed, the sound breaking the tension between you.
âCome on,â you said, tugging Jacaerys towards the keep. âLetâs get out of this wind.â
He followed you without question, his hand still in yours, his expression dazed and hopeful. As you walked, you couldnât help but wonder what the future would hold, but for now, with Jacaerys by your side and the warmth of his smile chasing away the chill, you felt something you hadnât in a long time.
Peace.
The great hall of Dragonstone was bathed in the flickering glow of candlelight as preparations for your departure were underway. The air was filled with the rustle of servants moving to and fro, packing provisions and laying out maps of the Vale and the North. You watched from the side, arms crossed, as Rhaenyra discussed the details with Daemon. Her voice was firm, her gaze fierce. The realms you were venturing to were not just allies to be gained but key players in a war that loomed over the horizon like a dark storm.
Jacaerys stood beside you, his face a mixture of excitement and apprehension. He had been assigned this task to prove himself, to show that he was worthy of the mantle that would one day be his. You knew the weight of that expectation well. You felt it every time your father looked at you, every time he spoke of the Targaryen legacy.
"Are you ready for this?" you asked, your voice low enough that only Jacaerys could hear.
He glanced at you, his expression softening. "I think so. Iâve been to the Vale before, but never the North. Thereâs so much riding on this.â
You nodded, feeling a pang of sympathy. âItâs a lot to bear. But youâre not alone in this, Jace. Weâre doing this together.â
He smiled at that, a small, genuine smile that lit up his eyes. âI know. And that makes it easier.â
The hall began to clear as Rhaenyra and Daemon dismissed the attendants, leaving just the two of you and a handful of guards. Rhaenyra approached, her eyes lingering on you with a mixture of pride and worry.
âY/N,â she said, her voice carrying a note of warning. âTake care of your cousin. The North is no place for mistakes.â
âNeither is the Vale,â Daemon added, his gaze sharp. âDonât underestimate the Eyrie. The Arryns have a long memory.â
You nodded, meeting their gazes steadily. âI will. We will.â
Rhaenyraâs expression softened, and she reached out, pulling you into a tight embrace. âBe safe, both of you,â she murmured, her voice muffled against your shoulder. âAnd come back to me.â
You hugged her back, feeling the familiar ache of leaving, even if only for a short time. ��We will,â you promised.
After a few more words of advice and caution, Rhaenyra and Daemon took their leave, and the hall emptied, leaving just you and Jacaerys. He shifted beside you, glancing at the packs of supplies that had been set out for the journey.
âDo you think theyâll listen to us?â he asked quietly, his voice laced with uncertainty. âThe lords of the North and the Vale?â
âThey will,â you said firmly. âIf we show them the strength and resolve of our house, theyâll see that allying with us is their best hope.â
He looked at you, his eyes searching. âAnd if they donât?â
âThen we make them see,â you replied, your tone brooking no argument. âWeâre Targaryens, Jace. We donât bend.â
Jacaerys let out a breath, his shoulders relaxing a fraction. âI wish I had your confidence.â
You turned to face him fully, placing a hand on his shoulder. âYou do, Jace. You just need to believe in yourself. Youâre stronger than you think.â
He looked down, his gaze fixed on where your hand rested against him. When he looked up again, there was something different in his eyes, something intense and unspoken.
âY/N, IâŚâ He hesitated, then shook his head, a rueful smile tugging at his lips. âNever mind.â
You frowned, not quite understanding. âWhat is it?â
He opened his mouth to speak, then seemed to think better of it. âItâs nothing. Just⌠thank you. For being here. For doing this with me.â
You studied him for a moment, wondering what it was he wasnât saying. But whatever it was, he clearly wasnât ready to share it. So you simply nodded, squeezing his shoulder before letting your hand fall away.
âWe should get some rest,â you said. âWe have a long flight ahead of us.â
He nodded, but neither of you moved. The silence stretched between you, heavy with things unsaid. Finally, he took a step closer, his gaze locked on yours.
âIâm glad itâs you,â he murmured, his voice so soft it was almost a whisper. âIâm glad itâs you by my side.â
Something tightened in your chest, and you found yourself unable to look away from him. The world seemed to shrink, the flickering candles and dark shadows of the hall fading into nothingness. It was just the two of you, standing there, the distance between you suddenly feeling like an insurmountable chasm.
âJace, Iââ
Before you could finish, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a featherlight kiss. It was quick, almost hesitant, and when he pulled back, his eyes were wide, his expression a mix of fear and hope.
âIâm sorry,â he blurted out, his cheeks flushing. âI shouldnât haveââ
You silenced him with a kiss of your own, your hand coming up to cradle the back of his neck. It was a deeper kiss, more certain, and he melted into it, his hands gripping your arms as if you were the only thing keeping him grounded.
When you finally pulled away, you were both breathing hard, your foreheads resting against each otherâs. For a long moment, neither of you spoke, the air between you charged with an intensity that was both exhilarating and terrifying.
âWeâre doing this together,â you whispered, your voice hoarse. âWhatever happens, weâre doing this together.â
He nodded, his hands still clutching your arms. âTogether.â
You stayed like that for a while, just holding each other, the world outside the castle walls seeming distant and unimportant. Whatever awaited you in the North and the Vale, you would face it together. And for the first time, you felt like you truly understood what that meant.
It wasnât just about duty or loyalty. It was about him. About you. About whatever it was that had been building between you for so long.
Tomorrow, you would take flight, carrying the hopes and dreams of your family with you. But tonight, in the quiet of Dragonstone, all that mattered was the feel of his lips against yours, the warmth of his body pressed close, and the knowledge that, whatever the future held, you wouldnât face it alone.
#house of the dragon#hotd x reader#hotd#hotd x y/n#hotd x you#jacaerys x y/n#jacaerys x you#hotd jacaerys#jacaerys x reader#jacaerys targaryen#prince jacaerys#jacaerys velaryon#jacaerys x male reader#jace x y/n#jace x you#jace x reader#jace x male reader
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Overworking â§
Plot : Your husband come home late again, and heâs too tired to argue.
The luminescent glow of the wall clock cast stark shadows flickering across the empty living room signaling midnight had long since passed.
Yet the apartment remained engulfed in stifling silence absent your husband Kento's reassuring presence filling the vacant spaces.
Your fingers drummed with steadily mounting agitation as each excruciating minute trickled away unanswered while you waited up alone on the worn couch.
It wasn't like Kento remaining entrenched at Jujutsu High working ungodly overtime hours was anything new lately, but tonight the resentment coursing your veins felt particularly acidic.
Gnawing into your composure with each pulse thundering that he'd once again prioritized his job over coming home to you like some insensible workaholic slowly squandering the precious remaining moments of your lives together.
So when the solitary echoes of his key scraping into the lock finally jarred the stillness, you shot upright immediately.
Chin raised in taut defiance while mustering the courage to confront him directly instead of meekly accepting Kento's feeble apologies and hollow justifications justifying this madness again.
The second your husband's hulking silhouette emerged in the threshold, you pounced without preamble.
"You're late. Again..."
Uttering the terse observation in clipped tones from between gritted teeth while actively assessing Kento's condition for the first time.
Disheveled tie dangling askew with his usually impeccable shirt and slacks wrinkled in haggard disarray. The sallow olive complexion only accentuating the bruised insomnia shadowing the heavy-lidded sag framing those rich bourbon irises clearly drained from sheer exhaustion.
Still, you braced awaiting the standard reflexive dismissal waving away your protective concerns as irrational hyperbole yet again.
Sure enough the indomitably stern furrow pinched across Kento's brow deepened in that telltale scowl preceding the well-worn rebuttal.
"Not now...I'm too tired to get into this tonight."
Immediately you recoiled from the uncharacteristically curt growl dripping in ill-concealed exasperation as he brushed past you towards the kitchen.
Clearly reaching the limits of his endurance and primed to counterattack like a wounded grizzly any impudent challengers foolish enough to pester further.
But the spark of indignation glowed red-hot behind your breastbone entirely eliminating any instinct for retreat tonight.
Not when Kento seemed hellbent on self-destructing through pursuing this flagrantly unsustainable pace.You swiftly followed at his heels hurling the accusations rapid-fire without filter.
"Why are you running yourself into the ground like this?! Working around the clock until you completely burn out or end up hospitalized?!"
Already his broad shoulders visibly tensed beneath the withering barrage while you mercilessly drove each rhetorical javelin home without allowing quarter.
No longer willing to stay passive as the man you cherished most wasted away before your eyes.
"And what about me? Do I not even factor any considerations about how I barely see you anymore besides like this - just discarded afterthoughts at the end of every grueling day?!"
Your throat constricted choking back the scorching bitterness now spilling unchecked across your blurred vision while Kento whirled to face your naked desperation head-on once more.
Every haggard line etched across those beloved Nordic features now seemed to deepen into craggy ravines utterly foreign and unrecognizable from the stalwart protector who'd stubbornly staked his entire existence upon safeguarding your shared sanctuaries.
"You think I revel in being away from my home drained like this? That I enjoy even a single second not by your side every night?!"
His roar simultaneously blasted both palms down upon the kitchen island's laminate surface with a percussive crack shuddering the tiles beneath your sock feet.
Unleashing the full tempest of Kento's frustrations that had evidently been steadily amassing into their own maelstrom these endless evenings alone.
"Every second sacrificed I'm away is to ensure you want for nothing! That our home remains secure from any potential threats! So you can live in peace while I handle these burdens!"
The wounded snarl flayed your viscera more savagely than any blade ever could. Shattering your ribcage wide open and laying your vulnerability bare before the man you'd always relied upon to shelter your most tender places from harm.
Before he instantly softened registering the mute horror stricken openly across your ashen features.
"Kento...that's not on you. If that's how you see it then...then I'm the one who failed."
But it was already too late to capture the venomous barb lancing out beyond your control.
The gaping void abruptly swallowing every lingering scrap of light still flickering behind your husband's visage surgically excised the very last remnants of air from your lungs.
You stood there paralyzed in that vacuum watching Kento physically recoil as if struck directly across that chiseled jawline.
Entire body tensing while the pitiless overhead fluorescents seemed to bleed away what little remaining color tinged those hauntingly cavernous pits now boring directly into your soul with singular uncompromising focus.
"Is that what you really believe...?"
The softly uttered words sliced you more lethally than any razor-edged steel forged by mortal hands ever could.
Rendered more agonizing by the bone-deep undercurrent of absolute loss now permanently severing whatever fraying lifelines still tenuously tethered you both to this point.
"Then you need no longer waste your evenings awaiting my return."
Even bereft of any inflections or venom lacing each syllable, the impassive delivery could do nothing to blunt the lacerations shredding your essence with every concise proclamation.
Feet already rooting to the very earth beneath while he turned without another glance disappearing beyond the hallway's shadows.
Leaving you adrift in a desolate, lightless world now devoid of anything to cling to beyond the scalding moisture already streaking down your hollowed cheeks.
You wasted away countless lifetimes in that void before somehow resurfacing in your shared bedroom consumed in numbness.
Numbly pulling drawers open on autopilot to shovel what meager belongings you could feasibly remove in a single bag while the man you loved lay entombed just beyond that dividing wall.
Unable to so much as utter a farewell...
The muffled sobs rattling your chest gradually gave way to an eerie calm overtaking your senses while automatically gathering those final essentials together.
Your motions felt disembodied and almost dreamlike - existing outside yourself surveying these mechanical preparations from some detached astral plane.
Until the bag's feeble weight balanced over one shoulder snapped you back into a razor-sharp presentience abruptly ricocheting off those cavernous bedroom walls now closing in all around with smothering permanence.
With nothing left delaying that precipice you couldn't avoid crossing no matter how desperately your psyche recoiled and retreated to those warm familiar shadows where he eternally waited.
You didn't look back or allow even the faintest broken whisper to escape while swiftly departing through the living room's archway into the vacant corridor beyond.
Each purposeful stride carrying you farther away from Kento and whatever fragile tapestry still barely clinging between your existences rapidly began unraveling behind.
At least until those first frigid droplets pelted the nape of your exposed neck signaling the night's deluge opened completely from the heavens above.
But still you pressed onwards, feet mechanically propelling you through the lobby then bodily out into the torrent with skull bowed in vacant resignation.
Allowing the punishing currents to immediately drench and plaster every stitch of fabric clinging to your skin in icy shackles now without a single conscious thought towards seeking meager shelter from nature's fury.
That was until the deafening roar erupting from behind shattered the hypnotic trance entirely.
"Y/N!!"
You staggered dumbly whipping about to find Kento's towering silhouette materializing from the building awash in halos of harsh illumination cutting through the downpour's veil like blazing searchlights.
His expression contorted into something primal and harrowing beyond lucid recognition while frantically scanning every inch of your drenched form now paralyzed before him.
Disbelief and heart-rending desperation etched behind the searing intensity now searing directly into your very marrow from those rich ember irises that had always been your touchstones in life's tempests.
Igniting reflective sparks to life where your soul's pilot light had nearly extinguished entirely under those scouring torrents unleashing in merciless retribution.
Suddenly Kento surged across the tarmac in two strides with his sodden blazer already stripped away to immediately drape the swathe of fabric around your trembling shoulders.
Immense oak-trunk arms effortlessly enveloping you against the indomitable wall of his chest while frantically trying to shield you from the punishing onslaught still pounding relentlessly all around in biblical wrath.
Yet not even those granite bastions offered sanctuary as chilling pinpricks numbed your entire body beyond feeling or substance now.
Leaving you a hollowed-out husk vaguely conscious of Kento's remorseless whiskey rasp shredding past your ear canal over the din of the downpour lashing against every exposed surface in scourging waves.
"Y/N...Iâm sorry. I was just tired, please I never meant it. Itâs just⌠work have been more exhausting lately, and Iâm on the edge sometimes. I lied, I want you to wait for me above all else."
Each gut-punching admission brutally lacerated past all your remaining defenses as he clutched you so fiercely against his pounding sternum those shuddering heaves transmitted into your own rhythms.
Until his soaked bangs completely plastered across those raw features allowing you to drink in every agonized fissure.
"But please, donât go. Iâm begging you"
The desolate cries finally shattered every carefully regimented barrier you'd armored around that hollowed-out vacancy eating away at your soul's foundation.
Each raw and utterly shattered syllable pouring from Kento's very essence jolted those tiny embers still flickering no matter how decimated or waterlogged beyond hope of revival.
So when he finally wilted into that hushed horrific reverie while cradling your face in his battle-calloused palms like spun glass, you instinctively leaned into those colossal furnaces emanating from his gaze consuming you whole once more.
Offering the only meager benediction left within you to bestow while reaching up to reverently brush away those crystalline rivulets streaking his granite features that held more significance beyond nature's downpour.
The frantic thrum of both your racing pulses immediately surrendered into perfect intuitive synchronicity once more.
Gently guiding Kento back through the torrent from that lightless brink he'd pulled you away from towards sacred sanctuaries still smoldering eternally where your twin beacons would never be extinguished again...
#nanami husband#nanami headcanons#nanami x y/n#nanami x you#nanami fluff#nanami angst#nanami smut#jjk kento#jjk nanami#jjk headcanons#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#nanami x reader#nanami kento x reader#nanami kento x you#nanami kento x y/n#kento x reader#kento x y/n#kento x you
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Iron Price â fish out of water
summary â small drabble about a House Greyjoy character, dreaming of going to the capitol to be a fancy lady, and taking her life into her own hands.
contains â Reader/You (she/her), no physical description, potential mysteries. Set before or at the beginning of the Dance
pairings â could go with either Team Green princeling, or anyone else if she came to the Red Keep sooner. Let me know if you're interested in this type of character and anything you'd like to see~
You had been trained to pay the iron price, broken by the salt and sweat of the sea. The Iron Islands offered little in the way of comfort, the craggy stone shores, and rocky terrain did not make for an easy ride or leisurely stroll. You were made to work for your pleasures.Â
While others of the islands spend time reaping and whoring, you find your comfort in lifeâs simpler work. You take your time on your needlework, even though your mother never required it of you. You learned to read from books of great histories left behind by the Maesters banished from the Keep by your father for questioning his authority and the authors of the Drowned God.Â
You werenât sure what you believed, other than your fondness for maps. You have sailed the oceans of the world through the tapestries and scrolls, treasured by the Greyjoy fleet. New and updated maps from all over the known, and unknown world, flowed into the Keep with every tide.Â
You could only imagine what treasures hid behind the walls of a real keep. A real castle, not some spit of stones in the sorrowful sea, surrounded by rocks and grey, but rather the grandness of the Red Keep in Kingslanding, surrounded by flying dragons and handsome lords.Â
You were on a voyage in the cold and unforgiving north when you heard news of your fatherâs death, a long and treacherous one lead by your elder brother, The Red Kraken. He immediately ordered his fleet home, to claim his rightful place on the Salt Throne, as was his birthright.Â
Your brother sat upon the Seastone Chair and called you and your younger sister before him. You were all so similar in ages, your childhood had been tangled together as Dalton had aged. You had grown custom to following his orders, as a faithful crewmate to the fierce captain.Â
He had been the one to make fun of you for your likes of girlish things, tossing your embroidery overboard whenever he found you hiding it from the other crew. He knew of your desires, and he denied you anyway.Â
âThe Crown has sent a raven, all the way from Kingâs Landing,â he laughed, admiring the fancy paper, curled up tightly into a scroll. âThey offer me a position on their councils, and a place in their halls.â It was clear that your brother had no intention of bending any knees and wearing fancy dress.Â
âDacey,â the new Lord Greyjoy mentioned to your younger sister, âyou shall sail to Kingâs Landing with our answer. You can offer yourself to them, take a salt husband, whatever you wish, I care notââ
âBrother!â you pleaded, âYou know it has been my wish toââÂ
He stopped you, not interested in what you had to say. âYou are too valuable to loose, sister. You follow my orders too well,â he smiled a toothless grin, âI could not hope to lose you.â
You knew him to be cruel, you were a lowly member of the crew, only fit to scrub the deck and wrap the sails. Your brother mocked you, not allowing you to follow your dream.Â
âBrother, please,â you try to bargain with him, try to make him see reason. âI could be an asset to you, I could sail to the capitol in your stead, I could represent House GreyjoyââÂ
âYou!â he shouted, rising from his place on the Seastone Chair. âAre not fit to call yourself Greyjoy, you have not earned the name.â
âAnd yet my sister younger has?â he challenge, turning your ire onto the girl.Â
âYou are simply jealous!â she countered, knowing it to be true in her bones. âYou are not true iron born. I bet mother bedded some weak landwalker to come up with something as ugly asââ
You struck your sister with your closed palm, aiming for her nose but hitting her eye. The two girls scrapped at one another until their brother pulled them apart. âMy word is final!â he demanded, putting an end to the womanly foolishness.Â
âÂ
âPresenting, Lady Dacey, of House Greyjoy, envoy from the Iron Islands,â the booming voice called as you are ushered into the great throne room of the Red Keep. It was more glorious and wondrous than you could have ever imagined. The hall was so high, you could practically imagine a dragon flying beneath the domed roof. The columns were carved with detailed conjurings of battles won with dragon fire and blood.Â
The ladies were all dressed in gowns so fine and fashionable, you could hardly stop yourself from reaching out and feeling each unique fabric your eyes had never seen before.Â
You had arrived, at your new life. You had made it. And you had paid the Iron Price.Â
âYour Grace,â you bow before the King of the Seven Kingdoms. âIt is truly an honor,â you smile. âI can not wait to serve you in any way I can.âÂ
âIt is good to see an Iron Islander in their rightful place, on their knees before the throne,â the eldest brother said, his eyelids heavy as he gazed down at you.Â
âYour namesake changed our traditions, yes,â you spoke, your head still bowed respectfully. âWe only bow to one king, and he sits upon the Iron Throne.âÂ
#house of the dragon#house of the dragon fanfic#writing#aemond targaryen#game of thrones#hotd fanfic#aemond targaryen fanfic#aemond targaryen x oc#aegon x reader#aemond x reader#aemond targaryen x you#aemond targaryen x reader#aegon targaryen ii#aegon the second#hotd aegon#king aegon#aegon ii#aegon targaryen x reader#aegon ii targaryen#aegon x you#aemond x you#aegon ii x you#aegon ii x reader#hotd reader#hotd fanfiction#hotd oc#hotd#house Greyjoy#Greyjoy#dalton greyjoy
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Daeron Targaryen - Secrets
Summary -Â A Targaryen prince and a Velaryon princess grapple with a forbidden love that defies their families. When their secret is discovered, tensions soar, forcing them to confront the risks of their passion and the cost of loyalty. Will love prevail, or will family ties shatter their dreams?
Pairing -Â Daeron Targaryen x Velaryon reader
Warnings -Â None
Word count - 2270
Based on this request
Masterlist for Daeron ⢠House of the Dragon General Masterlist
The sun hung low in the sky, casting a burnt orange glow over the waves as they crashed against the shore of a secluded island far from the reaches of Westeros.
This place was our sanctuaryâDaeron and I had carved it out for ourselves, a hidden refuge shielded by craggy rocks and dense forest, a place where no one could see us, a place where no one could judge.Â
Here, we were not Targaryen or Velaryon; here, we were just us, tangled in a love too dangerous to claim in the light.
But the air between us today was different, thick with unspoken tension, charged like the sky before a storm.Â
Daeron's eyes held that fierce, wild look againâa storm raging in his violet gaze, one that would not be calmed by any tender words or gentle touch. His lips pressed into a hard line as he fixed me with an intense stare, the anger and pain rolling off him like waves.
"You were reckless," he said finally, his voice low and cutting, filled with a hurt I could feel in my bones. "Facing Aemond alone, unarmedâwhat were you thinking?"
I crossed my arms tightly over my chest, meeting his glare with defiance, though my heart hammered beneath my ribs.Â
"I was thinking of Luke," I shot back, lifting my chin, daring him to challenge me. "He's my brother. I couldn't let Aemond harm him."
Daeron's jaw clenched, and he took a step closer, his expression darkening. "And what about me? Do you even care what it would have done to me if you'd been killed? Or is that just... something you don't care about?"
My defences faltered as I caught the rawness in his voice. My anger softened, though I wouldn't let myself yield to it entirely. "Daeron... I didn't thinkâ"
"No, you didn't think." His words were sharp, each one a quiet storm as he cut me off, stepping closer until I could feel the heat rolling off him.Â
"You never think of the risks. I've warned you again and again, to be careful. But you refuse to listen. If you keep putting yourself in danger like this, you'll leave me with no choice."
The way he said it, the weight in his wordsâit was a threat, one he meant.Â
I raised my eyebrows, an incredulous scoff escaping me as anger rekindled in my chest. "No choice? And what would you do, Daeron?"
The fire in his gaze didn't falter. "I'll take you away from here," he said, voice steady and dark.Â
"Lock you somewhere safe where no oneânot even your familyâcan put you in harm's way. Including yourself."
His words echoed in the silence that stretched between us.Â
Seagulls shrieked overhead, and the waves beat a steady rhythm against the rocks below, but all I could hear was his threat, ringing in my ears like a challenge.Â
Fury flooded my veins, my cheeks flushing as I stared at him, hardly believing what I'd heard.
"You would... imprison me? Take me away from my family? From my home?" I demanded, voice laced with disbelief, each word lashing out at him like the crack of a whip.
"If it means keeping you alive, yes," he said, taking another step toward me, his voice dropping to a dark whisper. "If you keep putting yourself at risk, I'll have no choice."
My hands balled into fists at my sides, my heart blazing with fury.Â
"And who are you to make such choices for me?" I spat. "I am a Velaryon, Daeron. I have the blood of kings, the strength of the sea. I am not some helpless maiden to be cloistered away because you can't bear to lose control."
Daeron's expression softened, but his eyes still held that fierce, desperate edge.Â
"It's not about control," he said, his tone softer but no less intense. "It's about my heart. It's about the fear that tears at me every time you do something reckless. Don't you understand what you mean to me? How deeply Iâ"
He stopped himself, the emotion in his gaze so raw that I could feel it like a physical pull.Â
My heart raced, caught between the anger still simmering in my chest and the undeniable pull I felt toward him. I'd known for so long how he felt, could feel it in the way he looked at me, the way he held me like I might slip through his fingers at any moment.Â
But hearing it now, seeing his face laid bare with that vulnerability, it shook something loose inside me.
"I do understand, Daeron," I whispered, barely able to hear myself over the beating of my heart.Â
"But don't you see? This is who I am. I would die for my family, just as you would for yours. It's in my blood, just as surely as it is in yours."
Daeron's shoulders sagged, his eyes falling to the ground as he swallowed hard.Â
"Then maybe that's where our loyalties are destined to tear us apart," he said voice barely a whisper. "Because I would rather die a thousand times than let you die once. Don't you see?"
My breath caught, and all the anger inside me melted in the face of the pain in his voice.Â
I took a step closer, my fingers reaching up to trace the line of his jaw, feeling the warmth of his skin, the tension thrumming beneath the surface.Â
"I see you, Daeron," I murmured, my heart breaking for him. "And I would never leave you willingly. Not even for them."
A flicker of relief crossed his features, his eyes brightening, and in the next heartbeat, he closed the distance between us, his lips capturing mine with a fierce, desperate hunger that stole my breath.Â
His hands gripped my waist, pulling me against him as though he were afraid I might disappear.Â
I tangled my fingers in his hair, letting the world fall away around us, letting myself drown in him, in the fire and the fury and the love that tied us together like a silken thread.
But the moment shattered like glass as a voice rang out across the shore, cutting through the silence.
"Sister?"
Daeron and I sprang apart as if burned, turning to see Luke standing just a few paces away. His face was pale, his eyes wide with shockâand betrayal.Â
Behind him, Arrax stood, a looming presence with a gleaming, watchful eye on his rider's sister, caught in the arms of a Targaryen.
"Luke," I breathed, my heart racing as guilt clawed at my chest. "It's... it's not what it looks like."
Luke's eyes narrowed, hurt twisting his features. "Not what it looks like?" he repeated, his voice quivering with accusation. "He's a Targaryen. He's... he's our enemy. You've been hiding this from me?"Â
His voice cracked, a mixture of disbelief and anger flooding his words.
Daeron stepped forward, eyes darkening as he fixed a hard gaze on my brother. "Lower your voice, boy," he warned, his tone cutting.
Luke took a step back, his expression hardening into defiance as he looked at me with steely resolve. "I trusted you, sister. And thisâthis is how you repay me?"
I stepped toward him, reaching out with a desperate hand. "Luke, please, listen to me. It's not as simple as it looks. There's so much you don't understand."
"Then make me understand," he snapped, his fists clenched at his sides, his eyes a storm of betrayal and pain. "Tell me why you would risk everything to be with him. Why you would betray our familyâbetray meâfor a Targaryen."
My throat tightened, my words choking beneath the weight of his gaze.Â
He was my little brother, the one I'd sworn to protect, and I had kept this secret from him. I had hidden this, knowing what it would cost if he ever discovered it.Â
The guilt weighed heavy on my chest, pressing down like stones, but before I could speak, Daeron's cold voice cut in.
"We don't owe him an explanation," he said, his words like ice. "If he speaks a word of this to anyone, he won't live to see another sunrise."
Luke's face twisted with shock, a flash of fear glinting in his eyes.Â
But he lifted his chin, his small fists clenching harder. "You would kill me? My own sister's lover would kill me just to keep her secret?"
Daeron took a step forward, his expression fierce, but I quickly placed a hand on his arm, pulling him back.Â
"No, Daeron," I said firmly, my voice steady even as my heart trembled. "This isn't the way. Luke is my family. He deserves my loyalty just as much as you do."
Daeron hesitated, his jaw clenching as he held my gaze, his expression a mixture of anger and reluctant understanding.Â
Finally, he nodded, his gaze softening just slightly. "Then make him keep his silence. Because if he doesn't..."
Luke's eyes flicked between us, his gaze filled with confusion, anger, and a strange, flickering pain.Â
"I trusted you," he said softly, his voice breaking as he spoke. "I would have done anything for you. And you... you kept this from me."
"I know," I whispered, guilt gnawing at me as I took a step closer to him.Â
"Luke, I know. And I'm so sorry. But thisâDaeron and Iâ" I took a shaky breath, searching for words that could reach him, that could somehow make him see. "He's not my enemy, Luke. Not to me."
"How can you say that?" he demanded, hurt flashing in his eyes. "After everything, his family has done to oursâafter all the blood that's been spilledâyou still look at him as if he's something other than that?"
I felt my heart shatter at his words, his raw betrayal, the disbelief etched in his features.Â
He was right, and I had no defence. All I had were feelings that I could never explain, loyalties tangled with love and defiance, feelings that were impossible to untangle. But I tried.
"Because... I love him," I admitted my voice a whisper that seemed to carry into the sea and sky.Â
"I love him as much as I love you, as much as I love our family. This warâit doesn't mean I have to hate him. Daeron isn't just his family, Luke. He's mine, too."
Luke's gaze softened slightly, but the pain remained. He looked away, his shoulders sagging as if the weight of this truth was something he couldn't bear.Â
"I don't understand," he said, his voice small and wounded. "I don't understand why you would risk everything, why you'd put yourself in this position... for him."
I reached out, my hand trembling as I rested it on his shoulder.Â
"I know you don't understand, Luke. And maybe you never will. But Daeron... he's not just my love. He's someone who would give everything to keep me safe, just as I would for you. This bond, Luke... it's deeper than loyalty, deeper than family lines. You don't have to understand it. I'm only asking you to trust me."
Luke looked up, his eyes swimming with unshed tears, his face caught in a painful expression of conflict.Â
"You're my sister," he murmured, almost to himself. "I love you... but thisâ" He paused, swallowing hard, his small fists loosening as his shoulders slumped. "I don't want to see you get hurt. I don't want to see you... lost to us. I don't... I don't want to lose you to him."
I felt a tear slip down my cheek as I looked at him, my heart aching with the depth of his pain.Â
"You're not losing me, Luke. You're not losing anything. I'm still here. I'm still your sister. And I'll protect you, I swear it. But this is something you must keep secret, for all of our sakes. For our family. For... me."
Luke was silent for a long moment, his gaze fixed on the ground, his small body trembling with the weight of the choice before him.Â
Finally, he lifted his head, his gaze meeting mine with a look of quiet resignation, his love for me shining through his hurt.Â
"I'll keep your secret," he whispered, the words heavy with the pain he was shouldering. "But only because I love you too."
Relief flooded me, and I pulled him into a fierce hug, holding him as tightly as I dared. "Thank you, Luke," I whispered against his hair. "Thank you."
Luke clung to me for a moment, his grip fierce, but he pulled away quickly, brushing at his eyes and looking anywhere but at Daeron.Â
"But I won't forgive you if this brings you harm," he murmured. "And I still don't... I don't understand."
"You don't have to," I said gently, my heart breaking at the look in his eyes. "Just know that I would do anything for you, Luke. Just as I would for him."
He nodded, a reluctant, fragile acceptance in his gaze, and then turned to Daeron, his chin lifting with a mixture of warning and pride.Â
"You hurt her, and I'll come for you," he said, his voice trembling but steady. "I don't care if you're a Targaryen."
Daeron nodded solemnly, his face softening with a quiet respect. "I would expect nothing less."
As Luke mounted Arrax and took to the sky, Daeron's hand slipped into mine, his fingers entwining with mine as we watched my brother disappear into the horizon.Â
I knew this was only the beginning, that this fragile truce could be shattered in an instant.Â
But for now, in this hidden sanctuary, with Daeron's hand in mine and my heart held together by the loyalty of a brother who had chosen love over loyalty, I knew thatâat least for this momentâwe were free.
A/n - Im gonna be so honest I forgot about this and had to stay up so late last night to write it đanyways Happy Halloween! I am working a 13 hour shift today so don't even get to go out (healthcare workers đ) but hopefully everyone else enjoys :)) *unedited*
Daeron tag list - @alyssa-dayne
#house of the dragon#house targaryen#hotd#hotd x reader#house of the dragon x reader#hotd one shot#hotd season 2#house of the dragon fanfiction#hotd fanfic#team green#daeron targaryen#daeron x reader#daeron the daring#hotd daeron#daeron targaryen x reader#hotd x y/n
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banshee's lament - chapter 13.
aemond targaryen x stark ofc minor jacaerys velaryon x stark ofc masterlist prev | next
wordcount: 4.3k
@huramuna-fics - follow & turn on notifications for just my fic postings! no taglists right now, sorry.
content: smut, angst, fluff, disabled ofc, aemond being delulu & obsessive, major canon divergence, graphic depictions of violence, death
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The tailwind brought them over the bay and the Gullet with ease, the gargantuan body of Vhagar looming over Driftmark as they passed over the island.Â
Aemond looked at the churning seas below them, the mood of the tides changing like a coin flip. A few Velaryon ships were going to port in Dragonstone as they approached the ancient isle, no doubt rife with supplies and workers of importance to the pretenderâs cause.Â
âDracarys, Vhagar,â he hummed low, his form prone to the saddle as his dragon unleashed molten fire from her maw, bathing the Velaryon ships in her cleansing flame.Â
Sunfyre trilled from the clouds above, settling upon the craggy cliffs of the mainland that overlooked Dragonstone. Vhagar, once dispatching the remainder of the ships, followed. The older dragon settled in the soft grasses, smoke trailing from her nostrils.Â
Aemond descended from his perch on her back, looking to his brother, who was staring over the water to the island.Â
âYour predictions of the weather patterns were right,â Aegon said, gesturing to the unobstructed view of Dragonstone from their vantage point. There wasnât a low hanging cloud, nor fog. The hulking bulwark of a keep was as visible to the two brothers as they were to itâ moreso, visible to the denizens inside. âThey should be able to see us loud and clear, Iâd wager. I suppose all of your effort in being the scholarly worm paid off.âÂ
âTheyâll have to look from two sides, however,â Aemond responded as he watched over the skyline as a fleet of ships came into view. âThe signal of smoke from the Velaryon fleet burning is as good of an indication as any.âÂ
The ships flew the flag of the Triarchy, three sigils to represent the Three Daughtersâ the cities of Lys, Myr, and Tyrosh. They crossed the narrow sea with a vengeance, wishing to give the Sea Snake a message in salt, sea, and blood.Â
The alliance between the infamous Triarchy and the King didnât come without a priceâ the Stepstones would be awarded to them after the war was finished, as well as a sizable amount of coin.Â
The Stepstones were an easy give, as the blasted shore of rocks and stone were nothing more than a watery graveyard, fought over for too long. Its debated governance, or lack thereof, had haunted the council room before Aegon was even born. It seemed an easy enough decision to give the islands to someone who actually had the means and knowhow to manage itâ in Aegonâs mind, at least. Aemond knew it would be an issue to deal with in the future.
The two brothers watched as the foreign fleet encircled the passage of water between Dragonstone and Driftmark, skirmishing close with some of the smaller Velaryon vessels. The proximity of the two opposing forces would make it difficult for any of Rhaenyraâs dragonriders to dispatch the Triarchyâ not without severe losses to the supply and size of the Sea Snakeâs brigade.Â
It was a delicate balance now, the Triarchy cutting off supplies and passage to Dragonstone, while keeping Driftmark at heel. The former was effectively sealed off, dragon flight being the only way off of the island.Â
This is where Aemondâs careful planning of the weather and their positioning across the cliffs came into playâ it was a clear message, a threat. The giant mossy colored dragon, coupled with the distinctive golden dragon, were a side unmissed on the crags.Â
The missive was unmistakable in its intention; âWe are watching.â
âAlthough,â Aegon looked to the ancient stronghold, built upon a volcano that housed and borne fire-bellied beasts. âIt would be easier if we justâŚâ he slammed his hand into his other fist, making a crude explosion sound.
âYouâre the one who stopped me from going down that route,â Aemondâs tone was flat, unamused by his brotherâs antics. âWe made our choiceâ we play the long game now.â
âSuddenly showing restraint now, Aemond? How unlike you,â his brother sneered. âYouâd burn the entire continent if someone gave you passage to do so.âÂ
Aemond shoots Aegon a look, violet eye sharp like a dagger. His jaw clenched, followed by an acute sting of pain in his eye socket, the nerves within lighting like a mass of torches. A storm swirls inside of his head, words flowing from his mouth on their own. âItâs difficultâŚâ he swallows, looking almost sheepish as he speaks, a look that doesnât quite suit him. âIt is difficult to show restraint. To quell myself.â It isnât exactly what he wished to sayâ the vulnerability was too much.
He screamed to himself, the searing agony of his socket drilling it into him. She is a few moments away upon Vhagar and I cannot get her. I have the largest dragon in the world and Iâm still powerless when it matters. Powerless, powerless. It was moments like these where he felt like a child with no dragon again, two-eyed and physically whole but grasping at any semblance of his heritage, of his bloodline. He was bereft of it except for name and likeness alone.
âWeâll get her back, brother. I promise you thatâ as your King. And⌠as your brother too, I suppose.â Aegon didnât look at his younger sibling, he didnât need to, he could feel the torment swirling within him. It was familiar to all of them.
â
âUndefended! You left the city undefended whilst you two traipsed to Dragonstone to⌠taunt Rhaenyra? Primp yourselves like benign peacocks?â Otto was as furious as his two grandsons had ever seen him, apples of his cheeks red with anger. âI expected this foolishness from you, Aegon, but not you Aemond. Youâve been taught better than this!âÂ
Aemond let his grandsire rant and rave, only cutting in when the older man stopped to regain his breath. âTo clarify, the city wasnât undefended. The queen was watching over upon Dreamfyre. Iâm sure the smallfolk were pleased to see their queen among them, defending them so stalwartly.âÂ
âThe smallfolk? What would they do if Rhaenyra and Daemon came upon their two dragons and took the city after slaughtering your sister? How do the smallfolk amount to dragons with lords atop them, Aemond?âÂ
Aemond closed his mouth, looking over at his skulking brother. Even though he wore the crown and held the power of the Kingdoms in his hands, he was still so easily torn down by a tongue lashing from his grandsire. Aegon was turned away, collapsed into himself as he bit at his already stubby nails.Â
âThank you for your insight, lord hand. I will see you at first light for the council meeting. I suspect weâll have much to discuss in terms of next moves now that Dragonstone has been cut off.â the prince, in so many words, dismissed his grandsire.
Otto narrowed his gaze but said nothing, leaving the two brothers alone.Â
Silence stretched between them until Aegon looked to his brother. âDo you think Iâm foolish?âÂ
âDepends on the situation.â
âYou see I am trying, donât you? I am the fucking King and yet I am still treated like less than a lecher by him, by them.âÂ
Aemond began to loosen his riding gloves, finger by finger. âThe plan was well executed, Aegon. I think you may find that there are many people grateful for their Kingâs valiance,â he said, glancing towards the open balcony that overlooked the sprawling city.Â
Aegon considered him for a moment, locking eyes with his brother before his expression softened. âWar isnât only fought by lords. Iâve spent enough time in those streets to know. Once, when I was coming back from the Silk, I saw a mass of people tear a raper limb from limb. âTwas deep in Flea Bottom, no lords or guards or laws there, only the code and anger of those who live there,â he paused, âA dragon can kill thousandsâ but thousands can kill a dragon, too. Their unrest shouldnât be underestimated.â
The prince looked at Aegon, blinking slowly. The king did have a unique perspective on the smallfolk, and mayhaps he cared more for them than the monarchs that came before him. It may prove to be useful in the future, if Aegon was ever given the breadth to make his own choices. Aemond thought his brother sloven and foolhardy at bestâ inept, brainless and sinful at worstâ but the few days of his reign had changed his view ever so slightly. He was still lazy like a fat tom cat, and yet, a fat tom cat may still catch as many mice as any other cat. He just may have a different way of doing it.Â
â
The lucidity was too much. It was too bright, she wanted to go back to sleep.Â
Bright, too bright. Shera sobbed silently, tears falling across her cheeks without any toil. Stars and figments of candle flame danced before her eyes, igniting a phantom pain in her eye that she thought gone. Her suffering that stemmed from Driftmark didnât manifest in nerve pain in her eye like Aemondâs, but rather pain in her throat and her seizing episodes. She just wished for darkness and Aemond.Â
âP-pl⌠please let me go back⌠to the weirwood,â she mumbled. âHe was waiting⌠for meâŚâ
Her hand was in Jacaerysâ, held together by a sash that bound them as husband and wife. It was colored with red and gray thread, the color of their two houses.Â
Shera felt⌠exposed. Exposed and cold, like a terrible draft was whistling through her, using her bones like windchimes.Â
The room was barren, save for Rhaenyra and the two newlyweds. It was dark, too, the only light dancing from candles and dragon heralded sconces. The brightness that tortured Shera was her nerves on fire, a deep throbbing pain coming from her scar. The man who had officiated had left, the only semblance of his presence being the words that continued to echo in Sheraâs mind.Â
The union of Jacaerys Velaryon and Shera Stark is now absolute, in every respect. They are wed in the eyes of the Old Gods and the new.
It felt like a curseâ a curse she knew was coming, a curse she had been waiting for. Something she thought thwarted by giving into her heartâs throes with Aemond.
How silly of an idea to avoid fate.
Her stomach was in knots, or mayhaps not there at all. âJacaerys,â Shera whispered, a familiar feeling of weightlessness catching up to her. âIâm going to fall,â she squeaked, âPlease donât let me fall.â her plea wasnât out of want for comfort, but rather necessity.
The prince untied the sash and supported Shera with a hand on the small of her back. âLike this?âÂ
âMy⌠my hip,â she continued. âIt is where⌠where Moongeist holds himself.â she lamented to be touched any further, her skin on fire and writhing with each misplaced caress. But she would hate to fall, legs crumbling beneath her like a newborn fawn. She felt like a tortured child, her feelings all too large for such a small body to handle. Her mind went back to the basest of needsâ she wanted Aemond, she wanted Helaena, she wanted Moongeist.Â
Jacaerys adjusted his hold with a confused and slightly anguished look. âMother,â he addressed Rhaenyra, who looked on in stoic concern. âShe needs⌠she needs a cane, or⌠or something.âÂ
Rhaenyraâs face didnât crease in traditional consternation, her features unmoved. There was only a twitch of her brow and the dilation of her pupils that gave away the inner turmoil. âGo fetch the maester. He will have something made up for her, surely. I will escort her to your chambers.âÂ
Your chambers. Your chambers. No, not hers. Jacaerysâ chambers. The realization and panic washed over her as unforgivingly as a riptide. Was she expected to consummate the marriage?
âN-no, please,â Shera blubbered as Jace helped her into the arms of his mother. âI want to go home, I want to go home.âÂ
There was a solemn hollowness in Rhaenyraâs voice as she helped Shera walk down the corridors. âYou are home now, dearest,â her voice was fauxly soothing, âI know it is difficult. I wouldnât have wanted this for youâ not⌠not like this,â there was something inherently warm about her touch that broke through any outward reservation, her hand caressed Shera in a way that could only be described as maternal. âI will do everything in my power to see to your comfort. Youâre safe now, Shera.âÂ
Her body and mind were at odds with one another. Her brain told her that this wasnât right, it wasnâtâ it was all a facade, it had to be. Her body, however, leaned into Rhaenyraâs hold, her gentleness stirring something long dormant inside of Shera.Â
She never really had a mother, in truth. Her life was riddled with surrogate mothers like Alicent and whomever her father had assigned to take care of her when she was a babe. Alicent did her best, of course, but there was always a fine line separating Shera from her own borne children. The nursemaids and stewardesses alike at Winterfell never had a gentle touch or affectionate wordsâ not like a real mother would. Out of Sheraâs myriad of issues, the mother-shaped hole in her heart was the least of her worries, easily pushed and locked away like a bad memory.Â
But times like theseâ times where Sheraâs constitution of mind and body were being tested, broken past her already fragile limits, the hole turned into a chasm, swallowing up the earth beneath her feet and making any further pain unbearable.Â
As Rhaenyra sat Shera down on the feather-filled bed, she pushed a stray auburn lock from her face.Â
Shera grasped at her hand, holding it with both of hers. âP-please, donât go,â she whispered, her voice broken and far-away. She hardly recognized it as her own, thinking it more alike to that of a young child. âPâŚplease, I do not⌠I donât wish to be alone⌠n-not yet.âÂ
âJacaerys will return quickly, dearest, you wonât be alone for long,â Rhaenyra replied, letting the frightened woman hold her hand, head cocked in slight confusion.
âN-no, no,â she cried, squeezing tighter upon the queenâs handâ a plea, a cry of a child long gone, forgotten. âPlease.â
Rhaenyra was quiet for long enough that Shera thought she mightâve left, even if she was still holding her hand. A soft breath left her nose as she shifted, sitting down next to her now good-daughter and wrapping both arms around her, taking her into an all-enveloping embrace.Â
No more words were exchanged, only the sound of Sheraâs wheezing breaths, shaking body wracked with sobs filled the room.Â
Jacaerys did return to his chambers, with the cane in hand, but upon seeing his weeping wife and mother, he bowed his head out and didnât return that night.Â
Rhaenyra stayed with the poor girl all eve and into the early hours of the morning, shifting Shera into a lying position on the bed and covering her with a blanket. It gave her some despair to see her cry herself into exhaustion and eventual sleep.Â
As the queen left the room, her mind was flooded with thoughts, swirling like tumultuous waves.Â
Have I done the right thing? Am I righteous in my choice?Â
She passed her son in the halls, Jacaerys bowing his head to her. âIs she⌠alright?â he asked, eyes dark as he already knew the answer.
âYou know her better than I,â Rhaenyra looked back to the closed chamber doors. âIs that⌠her normal air?â
âNo, it isnât her usual demeanor. She is very⌠morose, of course, but thisâ what exactly are you letting Daemon give her to render her so?â his tone took a turn, almost accusatory in its nature.Â
The queen was taken aback by the snap in his wordsâ it was unlike him, always the dutiful and polite son. Courtiers walked by them in the hall, their gazes averted, but she knew they were staring, listening. She pulled Jacaerys into an alcove. âDaemon has been dealt with for making such rash decisions without my consent,â she hissed, âYou must trust in me, Jacaerysâ as your mother and your queen. This is just one of the many pieces moving on the board, moving towards my ascension, to my throne.âÂ
âShera is just a pawn, then? A means to an end? And by marrying her to me, am I not the same?â Jace folded his arms over his chest, moving back from his mother. âAm I merely fodder for your fight against the usurpers? Usurpers, amongst whom is your dearest childhood friend? You and Daemon talk so openly of war, but you had cast the first stone with Sheraâs⌠abduction!âÂ
âWhat would you have me do? Ask kindly for my birthright back? Chalk it up to a misunderstanding and give them pats upon their backs and a place at my court?â Rhaenyra scoffed. A thorn lodged in her heart at Jaceâs implication of Alicent, a ghost who had haunted the queenâs very thoughts since she heard news of Aegonâs crowning. âMy father was a great King in many ways, his reign one of peaceâ but he was blind with inaction. I will not stay my hand when the time comes to strike. I will have my throne, in fire and blood if I must.â
Indignation flashed in Jacaerysâ deep brown eyesâ but like a storm, it dissipated into calm waters and clear skies. âYouâre right, mother,â he murmured, bowing his head. âYour grace.âÂ
âÂ
Shera finally felt well enough to walk by herself. Although, her legs felt cold and wobbly without Moongeist. It was midday, the skies clear around the island. The sun was even shining, warming her skin just a touch.
The maester upon Dragonstone had prepared a walking cane for herâ an instrument hewn from dark gnarled cherrywood. The exterior was a deep brown, whilst the inside was a deep, bloody red. She had worn small grooves on the top of the handle with her nails, exposing the inner layer of cherry, the color staining her fingertips sanguine.Â
Rhaenyra had instructed Sheraâs handmaidens to dress her in a more Valyrian-style wardrobe to âhelp her adjustâ. She felt like an impostor wearing the garments, usually tailored in red, black and gold, coupled with intricately braided hairstyles, fashioned to her head with a dragon pin. A small veil was afforded to her after much pleading, one that only concealed her eyes and left her nose and mouth barren. Her choker was replaced by looping golden chains, imbued with rubies.Â
Sheraâs nails laid in the indents of her cane as she arrived into the dining hall. The Queen apparently likened to having her family lunch with her at least once a weekâ a tradition that became more sparse when the war began.Â
She slunk into the hall as quietly as possible, the scattered sounds of Viserys and Aegon playing, as well as Lucerys and Joffrey conversing animatedly about swords and dragons, muffled the noise of her cane hitting the stone floor. She settled into her seat next to Jace, who looked irritated, a mood that befell him more often than not as of late, as he tried to serve in his motherâs war council, but was met with blockage after blockage from the other courtiersâ something that Shera didnât hear the end of for at least a fortnight.Â
Despite the newly wed coupleâs proximity to one another, Shera sleeping next to Jacaerys each night, they werenât intimate in any way. They had come to an understanding, knowing their souls were each entwined with anotherâs. They didnât need to muddy the waters any further with meaningless sex.Â
That being said, they did confide in one another to some extent. Or rather, Jacaerys would vent his frustrations of the day, of the bickering of the council, of Daemonâs recklessness, of his own motherâs discounting of his skillâ and Shera would listen intently.Â
âWife,â Jace murmured, clasping a hand over Sheraâs as she took her seat. His jaw was clenched, bone grinding against bone. âThank the Gods youâve come.âÂ
âHas something⌠happened?â she whispered, glancing around the table. The children were unphasedâ but the older ones had an air of ice around them. Baela had both hands on the table, head angled downward as she bore holes through a wall. Rhaena was despondent, looking down at her hands.Â
Daemon, however, was lazed. He leaned back in his chair, inspecting a singular grape as if he had no care in the world. âShera,â he said, not meeting her gaze. Rather, he addressed her with such informality that it made her cringe. âA Valyrian vision you look to be. Mayhaps we should send her into the Dragonmont to bond with a dragon, since she now looks so much the part.âÂ
âA sheep changes wool rather easily,â she began picking at some fruit on her plate, stabbing her fork into a juicy piece of cantaloupe.Â
âAh, yes. Our wolf in sheepâs clothing, is it? Or mayhaps, a wolf in dragonâs clothing, better yet,â he squeezed the grape until it burst between his fingers.
âDaemon,â Rhaenyra cut in, hand up to stop him from saying anything further. âHow are you doing this morn, Shera?âÂ
âIâm⌠well,â Shera kept her eyes down at her plate, wishing to shrink into nothingness.Â
âEnjoy the fruit while it lasts,â Baela piped up. âTheyâre blockading the island.âÂ
What? Blockading? Her mind raced with the possibilities, but she stayed quiet.Â
âIâm sure we can go without such frivolous things like fruit,â Jace scoffed, pushing his plate away.Â
âFruit, grain, most meat, silks,â Daemon drawled. âI donât understand why we donât stop the situation.âÂ
âDo we wish to go toe-to-toe with Vhagar? Sunfyre can be easily dispatched by Syrax, but do you believe Caraxes can survive her?â Rhaenyra snapped, placing down her cutlery on the table.Â
âThat hoary old bitch is cumbersome,â he continued, dismissing any shred of Rhaenyraâs concern as if it were nothing.Â
Vhagar. Sunfyre. Something bubbled in Sheraâs chest at the mention of the two dragons, who were undoubtedly with their riders. She continued to stare down at her hands, trying to contain a smile, biting her lip until it bled.Â
âCumbersome she may be, but her jaws could snap any of our dragons with ease. Mayhaps Caraxes and Meleys may pose a threat to her butâŚâ the queenâs voice trailed off, her fingers drumming on the table.Â
â⌠thereâs been no news from grandmother, nor Driftmark, your grace,â Baela sighed. âThe ships appear to be⌠dispatching any ravens attempting to cross the Gullet.âÂ
âWe will just have to wait, then. They cannot fare forever against Corlysâ fleet. Jacaerys, any word from the Greyjoys?âÂ
Jacaerys shook his head. âOur letters have gone unanswered.âÂ
âLord Greyjoy is just a boy of sixteen, Rhaenyra, no older than Lucerys. Untested in the matter of war, unblooded. We must seize Harrenhal and raise a land army.â Daemon stared at his wife, brow furrowed in agitation. âI will go with or without your leave. I have no need for passage.âÂ
There was a long stretch of silence, the chatter of the children stoppedâ it was as if the whole of the table held its breath.Â
âWe will speak upon it later, Daemon.â Rhaenyra finally said, the bags under her eyes more prominent than usual. She opened her mouth to speak once more, but was overcome with a strangled sigh. âGods,â she whispered, clutching her stomach. It was almost easy to forget that she was in her last days of pregnancy, belly round with child, all whilst the war was being waged just outside. She writhed slightly, face pinched.
âMother?â Joffrey spoke, his voice small and scared.Â
The entirety of the table erupted as handmaidens, maesters and nursemaids alike were summoned, gathering around the queen as her labors began.Â
Shera stayed sitting, watching as Daemon glanced over the situation before leaving the room, no doubt off to skulk.Â
Soon enough, the room was empty. She blocked out the cacophony of agonized screams echoing from the corridors as she stood up to leave. A small pool of blood was beginning to dry in Rhaenyraâs seat. A chill passed through Shera then as she turned to the window, leaning against the sill.Â
A green dragonfly rested upon the trellis of growing vines on the wall of the keep, the leaves withered and crusted in salt.Â
Hordes of boats were littered in the sea, arcing around the island like a noose. Glancing to the cliffs, she sees a glint of gold off in the distance, coupled with a hulking mountain that almost reminds her ofâŚÂ
No, it couldnât be.Â
It isnât.
She wouldnât let herself look again, she knew it would only end in disappointment.
As she went to walk away, something pulled her back. She clung to the window, peering out as if in hiding.Â
Her hopes were true as the golden vision of Sunfyre came into view, the sun shining off his pale yellow and pink scales. Next to the gorgeous beast laid a stirring massâ the Queen of all dragons. Vhagar.Â
Sheraâs heart raced, thumping against her ribcage like a caged bird. Aemondâ Aemond and Aegon had come to save her, they had! She vowed to never let herself be separated from Aemond again, never to let them be apart. Surely Aegon would dissolve her marriage to Jacaerys and let them marry, wouldnât he? Oh, of course he would.Â
The giddiness she felt was elating, her swimming pain and sorrow temporarily abated. She watched as Sunfyre took to the skies, Vhagar behind in a slower pace. Theyâre coming to get me now, they are!Â
The dragons climbed in altitude and drifted off from the bayâ in the opposite direction of Dragonstone. They were flying away from Shera. She stood still for what felt like an eternity, not breathing. That canât be right.
Any semblance of happiness was crushed instantaneously, her feverish pulse stopping for a beat. They were leaving. They were leaving without her. They werenât coming to get her.Â
#aemond x oc#aemond fanfiction#aemond targaryen#hotd aemond#hotd fanfic#aemond fanfic#hotd#house of the dragon#aemond x original female character#aemond x ofc#my writing#banshees lament#fic: banshee's lament
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Burning Hearts Chapter 1
HI WELCOME TO MY FAVORITE PROJECT! This series is what my fic Prescribed Medicine was loosely based on. I've decided to bring it to life in a multi part series! This chapter is sfw and building background. I will probably post to AO3 since the series lovers live there.
Pairing: Wyvern Devil Fruit Reader (female) x Law
Burning Hearts Chapter 1: A Heated End. A Cold Beginning.
Summary: You were teleported across the globe in an instant, away from your crew. Your body was badly broken and beaten, thrust into the harsh landscape of a Northern island. You are discovered by the Heart Pirates and brought back to health. Startled upon waking up in a foreign place with an unfamiliar crew, you are shocked with the news that youâll be spending two years there. Trafalgar Law, the captain of the Heart Pirates has made a promise to train you, but will it become something more than a mentor relationship?
Background: O/C (Rito Daisy) is a Strawhat Pirate. Long hair, dark brown with a streak of grey hair coming from the crown. Heterochromia, one eye brown and the other grey. O/C (Daisy) has a Zoan devil fruit power, although she is unaware what type of creature it came from. She was forced to ingest the fruit as a slave, therefore is resentful and only uses it when completely necessary. The only powers she has harnessed are black, bat like wings, and refuses to explore her powers further. O/C joined the Straw Hat Pirates a brief time before the Water 7 Arc.Â
â â
Chapter 1: A Heated End. A Cold Beginning.Â
Milky, iridescent ribbons of northern lights swirled quickly across your range of vision. Were you laying on the ground? You felt your long hair tickling your back, nothing impeding it. With nothing above or behind you, you were whizzing through space and time. You tried to move your hands.Â
Your feet.Â
Your wings.Â
Nothing. You couldnât move an inch. Your head spun with dizziness and confusion. What happened? Where were you? The last thing you remembered was-
âWait Sanji-!â You called out after being face to face with the padded paw of Bartholomew Kuma on Sabaody Archipelago.Â
âDonât touch her you brute!â Sanjiâs eyes flared with aggression as he aimed a kick towards your attacker.Â
And that was the last thing you saw. You had been bested badly by Kizaru and Kuma, just as the rest of your crew had. You knew you had broken bones. You realized this now that the adrenaline had worn off and you could finally feel your injuries. The delicate tissue of your wings was ripped to shreds and you felt it deep in your flesh. You couldnât even retract your wings and resume your full human form. You were helpless in your involuntary stasis. How long had you been flying away? The northern lights begin to meld together in your vision and your eyelids flutter closed againâŚÂ
â â âÂ
*WOOOOSH* *CRASH*
Your body crashed into the side of a snowy mountain like a dropped bomb. Pine branches snapped. Squirrels and foxes scampered away quickly. Boulders shattered at the sheer force of the impact. For a moment you were able to open your eyes.Â
You were blinded by bright white. After a few moments of believing you had died and were ascending into the heavens, the craggy mountainside came into view. But before you could fully assess your situation, the rock face beneath you gave way and you were falling again.Â
You scream but your mouth was quickly covered with snow from the incoming avalanche. You feel more of your bones snap. The pain is unbearable. Your head spinsâŚÂ
â â âÂ
âWay too fuckinâ coldâŚâ Penguin struggles to lift his legs from the knee deep snow as he trudges towards the woods on the mountain.Â
âCaptain said to get wood. You wanna tell him you were âtoo cold,â Penguin?â Ikkaku snapped at her exploration partner while she too, struggled to move through the snow.Â
âIâd like to see him out here in this shit! I can barely tell my hand from my dick in this blizzard!â Penguin shot back.Â
âThatâs probably because you can barely see your- Ooof!â Ikkaku trips over something in her path and takes a nose dive into the fresh powder in front of her.Â
âHah! Karma, bitch!â Penguin laughs and pulls his hat back. Upon clearing his vision, he sees what his crew mate had tumbled over. A pair of denim clad thighs and a slim waist. âWait⌠IkkakuâŚâÂ
âWhat is it? Help me up already!âÂ
âItâs⌠itâs a girl!âÂ
âWhat?â Ikkaku shakes her head to shake off the snow.Â
âThereâs some lady buried in the snow! We gotta get her out!â Penguin panics and starts scraping heaps of snow off the frozen body.Â
âOh shit, youâre right. Letâs pull her out.â Ikkaku reaches through the snow until she feels a lifeless skull lolling around. She places a gentle hand behind the bodyâs neck and pulls it out of the snow. It was a beautiful woman, long brown hair braided with flowers and vines that had been frozen and wilted in the snow, a large grey streak spread from a corner of her forehead. Ikkaku grabs the shoulders while Penguin grabbed the legs of the lifeless form.Â
âWhy isnât it moving?â Penguin pulls on the legs.Â
âHmmph! Itâs stuck on something⌠Hmmmpph!â Ikkaku tries to jostle the body free of the ice and snow. The duo pull and push on the body until something finally gives and it is released from the grip of the mountain. Suddenly, on one side of the body, a tattered black wing breaks free from the ice and flops back down. The second wing followed and slumped lifelessly next to the unconscious form.Â
âWhat the hell is this thing?!?â Penguin exclaims.Â
âI donât knowâŚâ Ikkaku looks down at the strange person. âBut Captain is definitely gonna wanna see thisâŚâÂ
The two wordlessly agree to carry the body back down to the Heart Pirate safe house at the bottom of the mountain.Â
â âÂ
âCaptain! Law! Hurry!â Penguin yells as he runs into the base backwards carrying the legs of the unknown body.Â
âBring it to the med bay, if thereâs any chance itâs still alive heâs going to want it in there.â Ikkaku hurries Penguin down the hallway to Captain Trafalgar Lawâs surgery room that connected to his secluded office.Â
Doors swinging open quickly, the pirates hoist the winged figure up onto the surgery table. The body laid lifelessly on the table while the shredded wings flopped lazily at its sides, tips nearly hitting the floor. Penguin collapsed against the wall behind him, breath heavy from the long, arduous journey back from the mountain with their new addition.Â
The door to the adjoining office was flung open.Â
âWhat the hell is this?â Law burst in and began pulling on a pair of blue rubber gloves.Â
D, E, A, T, H.
H, T, A, E, D.
He slipped the gloves over each finger and moved towards the surgery table.Â
âWe found it on the mountain, Captain.â Ikkaku responds. âUnder a blizzard and a landslide. I doubt itâs still alive.âÂ
Law wordlessly peruses the body. He stops by itâs neck and presses two fingers against itâs pulse point.Â
E, A.
âThereâs a pulse. Sheâs alive.âÂ
Ikkaku and Penguin look at each other and their eyes widen.Â
âBepo!â Law shouts.Â
âYes, Captain?â A large polar bear in an orange jump suit enters the operating suite.Â
âReady the surgery room.â Law eyes Penguin and Ikkaku gawking at each other. âYou two, prepare for a procedure. Get Shachi too. This wonât be easy.âÂ
âAye, Captain!â The duo immediately went to change their uniforms and scrub up for the procedure.Â
â- â- â- â-Â
âI need more stitches, Bepo.â Law states, muffled by the surgical mask in front of his nose and mouth.Â
Law sits on a doctorâs stool sewing up the sinewy flesh on the beingâs wings. It had taken him 2 hours, but Dr Trafalgar Law had already sewn up one wing and was finishing the other. It didnât look good, even Law could admit that. He was just trying to stop the bleeding from the micro veins and tissue in the wing webbing. Bepo had hooked up the creature to machines to monitor its breathing and heart rate.Â
âI-Itâs a vampire. W-we should have left it out there.â Penguin says from the corner of the operating room.Â
âIf you canât be helpful, leave.â Law states calmly without looking up from his work.Â
âItâs not a vampire, you idiot.â Shachi remarks from his spot next to the body. âItâs that Straw Hat girl. You guys donât remember her from the auction house?âÂ
This peaked Lawâs interest.Â
âStraw Hat? Sheâs with his crew?â Law takes a moment from his hunched position over the wing to look at the bodyâs unconscious face. He notices her button nose, full bottom lip, and her frostbitten skin. Law cocks his head. He remembers her from Sabaody now. She was with the young man in the Straw Hat. He recalls the information on her wanted poster. They had only left the chaos a few days earlier.Â
âThe botanistâŚâ He mumbles under his breath.Â
âYeah! Thatâs it! They call her the Earthly Devil⌠Rito Daisy I think..â Shachi confirms.Â
âDaisyâŚâ Law says pensively. He looks at your peaceful face. His gaze lingers for a moment before returning to his work stitching up the flesh of his new patient.Â
âMust be a Zoan type.â Bepo says from over Lawâs shoulder. âSheâs certainly no mink. The question is what kind of Zoan type makes wings like thatâŚâ The bear has worry and concern his voice. Law sighs and rises from his chair.Â
âItâs not important right now.â He ties off his stitches and moves towards the bodyâs torso. âWe need to set the bones. If we donât do it now, itâll be a lot more painful when sheâs awake.âÂ
Law cracks his knuckles.
D, D, E, E, A, A, T, T, H, H.Â
His crew members look at him expectantly.
âWell, letâs do it.âÂ
â â Â
Burning. Bright. Fluorescent.Â
âOw⌠my eyesâŚâ You mumble as you wake from a deep slumber. All you could see was artificial lights and steel ceilings. You knew you were not on the Sunny anymore, ToTo. You try to reach your arm to rub your eyes and found that both of them were shackled to the table you were laying on.Â
You were a prisoner.Â
Again.Â
You heart throbbed in your chest. Your stomach dropped through your whole body. Someone had taken you captive again. How could this happen? You had aligned yourself with the strongest pirates the worst generation had to offer and yet here you were, strapped to a strangers ship just like was 8 years ago.Â
âHeyâŚâ You try to sit up.
âHEY!â You pull your body up further.Â
âGET ME THE FUCK OUT OF HERE! HEY! HEEEEEY!â You try to lurch your body forward but you were met by sharp, extreme pain throughout your whole being.Â
âHey woah hold on relax itâs okay! Weâre going to help you!âÂ
A voice comes from the corner of the room you couldnât see due to your restraints.Â
âWho⌠who are you! Get away from me! Let me go!â You shouted.Â
âI know youâre freaking out right now but I promise we-âÂ
You see who the voice was coming from.Â
It was an 11 foot tall real-life anthropomorphic polar bear wearing an orange jumpsuit. Your eyes crossed in shock.Â
âGET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME YOU FUCKING CARNIVORE DONâT FUCKING TOUCH ME!â You pull at your restraints, ignoring the searing pain in your body.Â
âNo no! I wouldnât! Please stop!â The bear raises his hands in front of his chest to signify he meant no harm, but you wouldât believe it. You scream.
âAAAAH!â The metal restraints holding you down to the table broke under your strength, the material melting slightly.Â
âCAPTAIN!!!! HELP!!!â The bear shrieked and cowered.Â
âDONâT TOUCH ME!â You shouted and pushed yourself off the operating table and into the cabinet across the room, breaking the glass. You honed your eyes in on the polar bear.Â
You spread your broken wings and they crash against the furniture in the cramped operating room, knocking over carts full of medical equipment.Â
âShit!â You groan in pain.Â
âROOM.âÂ
Suddenly, the air around you tuned light blue. You spun your head around, trying to see where the voice came from.Â
âShambles.â
You felt a body behind you. You breathed hard in suspense.Â
âShit, that burns!â An arm around around your torso pulls back.Â
âWha-?â You felt a sharp jab in your neck and then your eyelids closed.Â
Three fingers pushed down the plunger of a syringe.
E, A, T.Â
â â â â- â- -
âI have to go to Marine Ford. Picking up a patient. You stay here and make sure this patient stays sedated.âÂ
It had been a week and Law had been taking care of his new patient in his medical bay at the Heart Pirates safe house. Law had made sure that Daisy would stay unconscious during this time, pumping her full of sedatives. He needed the patientâs bones to heal.Â
âKeep her sedated. Iâve left the exact measurements of medications in the folder on the desk. Make sure she stays unconscious. If she were to wake up now, the sheer volume of her broken bones would send her into another shock-like state.â Law gives the instructions to Shachi and Penguin.Â
âG-got it Captain! You can leave it to us!â Penguin nods at his captain.Â
âIt might be a few days. Call only if itâs an emergency.â Law tosses Shachi a transponder snail and heads out of the base towards where the Polar Tang was docked, Bepo at his heels.Â
âGreat. What did you do that landed us in charge of the vampire girl? If she wakes up we are so fucked.â Penguin remarks at Shachi.Â
âShe wonât wake up. If we keep giving her meds, weâre in there like swim wear. Itâs an easy gig.â Shachi laughs. âAnd if she does, so what? We just shoot her full of one of theseâŚâ Shachi grabs a syringe from a medical cart and squirts it into the air. âSo what if sheâs a Straw Hat? Sheâs their gardener. Sheâs about as dangerous as their damn musician. No real threat.âÂ
âI donât feel real great about this, ShachâŚâ Penguin remarks while rubbing his brow.Â
#one piece anime#one piece#one piece fanfiction#one piece smut#one piece fanart#one piece live action#one piece netflix#one piece fandom#zoro x reader#law x reader#history#trafalgar law#trafalgar one piece#trafalgardwaterlaw#trafalgar d law x reader#trafalgar op#trafalgar d water law#trafalgar d law#law one piece#once piece series#series#fanfiction#ao3 fanfic#fanfics#ao3 writer#archive of our own#ao3fic
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18 and 50 đĽ°đđđđ°đđ§đ¨
Six months seems like a perfectly reasonable response time... right? RIGHT?
The prompts were: 18 & 50 We both showed up alone to the couples cake decorating class, so obviously-... and Fighting? No, no, we're having a great time arguing about this.
Enjoy below or on Ao3
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Kravitz hates his colleagues, Kravitz hates them so hard and double and backwards. The power of his hatred is turned up to eleven. Heâs going to switch the office coffee to decaf, heâs going to move everything round in the fridge, heâs going to take all the good name brand parcel tape and replace it with the shit stuff that sticks to you more than whatever youâre trying to wrap up. But heâs not. Not really. Heâs going to walk into the couples cake decorating class which they didnât mention he needed a plus one for, and heâs going to have a âmarvellousâ time. Just like Lydia said he should when she waved him away earlier. But this time, this time heâs not going to believe them when they say they âforgotâ or âmisread the ticketâ, because Kravitz is not gullible. Maybe that really did happen the first four times, but five is suspicious. Five stinks of deception. Five are on Craggy Island and they know someoneâs been fucking things up for them on purpose.
âHello!â Says the wall of a man at the door in a worryingly joyful tone. It looks like heâs working hard not to grab Kravitz in a hug. Kravitz appreciates the effort. He does not like to be touched. Lydia says itâs because he needs to work on his social skills. Kravitz thinks that itâs probably because she and Edward need to learn about boundaries. âWhatâs your name? Iâm Magnus!â
Kravitz hands over his ticket with a tight smile.
âAh, yes, I have you on the list, a last minute addition! Welcome Cravat.â
âItâs Kravitz.â Says Kravitz, trying not to be terse, and failing hideously. They know exactly how much he hates it when people call him that. Namely them, because no one else does. But this isnât Magnusâ fault, he seems very nice and very excited about event administration, and not responsible for the terrible people Kravitz needs to not work with anymore.
Magnusâs face falls. âOh⌠they spelled it twice on the phoneâŚâ He gives Kravitz a searching look. âAre you sure?â
âAm I sure what my own name is?â
âIâm not judging you, sometimes people forget things. I donât mind.â Magnus shoots him a disarmingly encouraging smile and the fighting winds leave his sails.
âIâm sure that my name is Kravitz.â Says Kravitz in the most measured tone he can muster. Maybe if he explains⌠he can just practise telling someone how awful they are. Heâll never ever have to see Magnus again. âMy colleagues are complete⌠theyâre not very⌠they like to⌠itâs a joke.â He finishes lamely. Itâs fine. He can practise the conversation in the shower and then write a little script before he tells anyone else.
âOkay thenâŚâ Magnus pauses, shape of the âCâ in his mouth. Kravitzâs lips draw into a thin line. â...Kravitz. Welcome to cake club! Tonight weâre decorating with the very best boys. Is your partner here yet?â
Kravitzâs mouth gets even tighter. âItâll just be me.â
âAt the couples decorating class?â Magnus asks like Kravitz is being ridiculous.
âYes at the couples decorating class.â Kravitz smiles his very best customer service smile and hopes for the best.
âOkay.â Magnus says slowly. âYeah, we can work with that.â Magnus gives him a once over. âThe suit will definitely help.â
Kravitz has a distinct feeling that heâs being appraised against a firm set of criteria.
âYeah. Youâll be fine. Come on. Julia will be starting soon and youâre the last one here.â Magnus shoos him through the door.
Kravitz is 30 minutes early. Thereâs no way he can be the last one here! Heâs never late! HeâŚâs going to switch out Edwardâs sticky tack for the one that feels all weird and over stretchy. Surely itâs bad enough for him to show up without a person and incorrectly named, he doesnât need lateness to complete the trifecta. Theyâre twins, they should only be allowed to do two bad things in one go, thatâs only fair.
âHere you go.â Magnus points to a station with a large, intimidating array of tools which put him in mind of a surgery table, a stack of colourful bags thankfully pre-loaded with icing, and two aprons covered in hearts set next to each other.
âIâll justâŚâ Magnus leans past him to grab one of them and laboriously inch it away as if Kravitz wonât see as long as the movements are slow.
âYou too, huh?â Asks the man on the adjoining station. Heâs alone too. Although he appears to be wearing both aprons, one on the front and one on the back.
âYep.â Kravitz tries not to make eye contact. He doesnât need pity.
âOn purpose?â The man asks.
âNo.â Maybe if he keeps his answers short the man will realise this conversation isnât going to happen.
âI did.â Kravitz sees the man shrug out of the corner of his eye. âSocietal expectations can suck it, couples decorating class? Taakoâs a baller chef, just wait, youâre going to be amazed by how many arms I have.â
âIs it more than two?â Kravitz turns to look, immediately forgetting his previous strategy.
âYouâll have to wait and see.â The man winks dramatically.
Heâs handsome, very handsome. Dirty blonde hair in a plait down his back, a light scrub of stubble across his jaw, and so many jangly earrings and necklaces that Kravitz canât help but stare.
âAh fantastic idea!â The woman at the front of the class, Julia, Kravitz assumes, beams as Magnus points at the two of them. âAs you two are already getting to know each other, why donât you work together?â She smiles like sheâs doing them a favour.
Everyone turns to look.
Kravitz doesnât want to be perceived right now, not for this reason. He doesnât need everyone to look at him and know heâs here alone and needs to be paired up with someone while all these couples came together on purpose. His face grows hot and his mouth clamps closed and his fingers definitely arenât working and he doesnât want to check in with his legs about it.
Thereâs a horrible screeching noise.
âTaako!â Julia winces. âCould youâŚâ
The rest of her sentence is drowned out by another horrible screech as he laboriously moves his stool.
âJust following instructions.â The man who must be called Taako? (Surely not?) calls cheerfully as he settles down next to Kravitz
âRight. Well, now that youâre doneâŚâÂ
The stool screeches again.Â
âTaako!â
âSorry.â He doesnât look even a little bit sorry.
Kravitz stifles a laugh. As much as he appreciates the interruption he doesnât want to get tarred with the same brush. He refuses to get detention. Can you get cooking class detention? That would probably be a good thing, he needs all the help he can get⌠so maybe theyâd ask him to leave early instead? Either way, he doesnât want to do anything wrong enough to find out.
âIf youâre done?â Julia levels a frankly terrifying stare their way and the stool screecher sits up straight and attentive.
âHello everyone! Iâm Julia Burnsides, and this is my lovely assistant Magnus Burnsides.â
Magnus waves happily at them all then delivers a positively goopy smile to Julia. She returns it. Theyâre disgusting. Kravitz hates them. (Kravitz envies them deeply.)
âTonight weâre going to turn thisâŚâ Julia holds up a scandalously nude cupcake.Â
âInto this!â Magnus shouts, enthusiastic and loud enough to make Kravitz jump slightly in his seat.Â
Taako doesnât disguise his laugh.
Kravitz would glare at him, but heâs been reliably informed itâs not polite, so he settles for shushing Taako and making sure heâs exuding âPaying Attention In Class Like Itâs His Jobâ energy. In fact, it is his job, itâs both of their jobs, because they entered into the education contract by signing up for the class even if it was under false pretences and someone else signed up on his behalf as a joke.
A sharp elbow digs him in the ribs. âWhat do you think the cakeâs supposed to be?â The man is, at least, keeping his voice down slightly, no one turns round to tell them off.
Kravitz doesnât turn round. Heâs being a good student. Also, he has absolutely no idea what the thing Magnus is proudly brandishing at them is. Maybe a tractor?
âThis is a dog that Magnus made.â Julia adds helpfully. Kravitz has to assume the bemusement which is likely apparent on his face is also mirrored across the other attendees.
âHereâs another version.â She holds up a much more dog-like dog. âWeâre going to take you through step by step.â Julia smiles so reassuringly that Kravitz is almost convinced heâs going to be able to make his very own dog tractor.
âFirst off, youâll need to come to the front in turn and get your cupcakes. If we could have this table first?â Julia points at the front left bench, as far from them as they can possibly get. Are they being punished? Are there going to be worse cakes for them because they broke the rules and came alone?
âDonât worry.â The man says conspiratorially and slides a tupperware onto the table. âI brought my own.â
âWhat?â Kravitz isnât sure thatâs legal. Can he go down for this? Existing in the presence of contraband cake might summon the bakery police.
âTheyâll just have vanilla. These are salted caramel, mocha, strawberry - with the proper stuff, you know, Taako doesnât fuck with extract only nonsense - and vanilla but it has beans so you canât say that itâs the same as the ones here.â He cracks the lid as he talks and glorious cakey smells waft out.
âAre we allowed?â Kravitz asks quiet and serious. Maybe thereâs a rule he doesnât know about. Maybe Lydia and Edward forgot to mention it was BYOC⌠that seems about right honestly.
âDoesnât matter, does it, kemosabe, because weâve done it already.â The man shrugs as if heâs not worried about getting a bad mark in cake.
âAh.â Kravitz says, not entirely ready to make himself an accomplice.
âHere, try one. Whatâs your poison? You seem like a guy who caffeinates.â The man holds a chocolatey, coffee-y treat his way. âGo on, itâll blow your mind, Taako guarantees it.â
Kravitz really wants the cake. It smells amazing and his lunch disappeared from the fridge yet again so all heâs had to eat was the sad, crumbly granola bar he found at the back of his desk drawerâŚ
The man, who does in fact seem to be called Taako starts to withdraw his hand. âWell, if you donât want it then I guess.â
âWait!â Kravitz grabs it quickly. Itâs not polite, but heâs not risking missing out. âYouâre sure you have enough?â
âChaâboy brought plenty. Taako canât believe youâd doubt him like this. Weâve been together for 16 years, happily married for 15 years and fifty one weeks of that time, and still you donât trust me.â
âWe had a bad week?â Kravitz breaks off a piece of the cake.
Taako looks offended. âNo!âÂ
âBut you saidâŚâ
âWe got married a week after we met.â Taako says firmly. âNow eat your cake, snugglepuss.â
Kravitz winces. âSnugglepuss?âÂ
âThatâs what youâve got the issue with? Not our timeline?âÂ
âWell we were just so in love.â Kravitz refuses to be beaten in imagination table tennis. âHow could I do anything but ask you to marry me after that glorious week of cross country skiing? I bought the ring on our lunch break on day two.â
âCross country skiing?â Taako cocks an eyebrow, but heâs still smiling. Not in the mean way either, the way when sometimes you think youâre playing the same game, but youâre very much not and theyâre just gathering data to inform exactly how much theyâre going to ostracise you (itâs lots, itâs always lots.)
âI loved the way your thigh muscles strained when you tried to get out of the hole.â Kravitz tries very hard not to think about Taako in a skin tight ski suit. Heâs never been skiing, but his brain is doing a great job of thinking up some things he definitely shouldnât be paying attention to.
He shoves the cake in his mouth to distract himself.
Itâs incredible.
He doesnât know the technical terms, but itâs got all the cake things, the taste and the texture and the⌠crumb. Thatâs definitely a cake thing.
âThese are magic.â Kravitz tries to force himself to chew his next bite slower and actually savour it.Â
He fails.Â
Taakoâs looks at him again, he really looks at him, drags his eyes slowly down to Kravitzâs toes and back up again, then grins.
âIâm Kravitz.â Kravitz says, because he canât think of anything better and it seems polite.Â
âYou sure are, kemosabe.â Taako winks an exaggerated overblown wink. âChaâboyâs Taako, but you figured that out for yourself.â
Kravitz shouldnât feel proud, but he does.
âNow that everyone has their cake we need you all to find the nozzle which will make the kind of hair you want your dog to have.â Julia holds up one of the nozzles which is full of holes. âFor example, this one could be a pomeranian running.âÂ
Kravitz writes a question mark in his pocket notebook after âpomeranian runningâ. Itâs a tiny rebellion but Taako snorts gently next to him and it feels good. Well, mostly. Kravitz hopes Taakoâs laughing at the concept and not him.
Taako picks up a nozzle.
âIâd like you to all pick up your nozzle and try piping with the practice bag, use the greaseproof paper to get the motion. Youâll be looking for something like this.â She pipes a perfectly windswept dab of buttercream fur onto her parchment.
Taakoâs not piping onto the parchment.Â
Taakoâs piping directly onto the cake.
âTaako!â Kravitz whispershouts like his life depends on it, because it does. Julia looks strong.
Taako doesnât acknowledge him.
âTaako, thatâs not the parchment.â Kravitz, helpfully, nudges it towards him. Maybe itâs just a misunderstanding. Maybe they wonât go down for willful buttercrime, theyâll get a reduced sentence because it was an accident.
âRules guy, are we?â Taakoâs still piping.
Kravitz is, in fact, a rules guy. Why would they exist if they werenât important?
Taako stops piping.
âTaako!â Kravitz doesnât shout, but he wants to.
âThatâs chaâboyâs handle.â
âThatâs a fish.â
Taako looks offended. âItâs a horse.â
Kravitz does the weird snorty laugh he usually saves for home.
âHonse.â Taako points at the cake. âLook at his beautiful flowing mane.â
âThatâs a fin.â
âHorse fin.â
âHorses donât have fins.â
âFish donât have manes.â Taako says like heâs winning at something.
Heâs not.
âIf heâs a horse then where are his teeth?â
âOh, Taako sees your game, you think horses have to be happy all the time, do you? Got to pander to your human whims and do a nice big horsey smile so you can appreciate what a nice horse life they have? What if his wife just left him? What then, my guy? Does he still have to smile for you?â
âHe clearly left his horse wife.â Kravitz shrugs nonchalantly.
âWhy?â Taako leans in, desperate for the gossip.
âBecause he was a fish, and she was a horse, can I make it any more obvious?â
âShe had a trunk, and he didnât neigh.â
âWhat more can I say?â Kravitz mutters quickly before tackling the bigger question, because heâs a gentleman. âHorses donât have trunks. Iâm deeply concerned about your equine knowledge.â
âMaybe youâre the one that isnât as much of a horse specialist as you thought, hmmm? Ever think about that? Maybe, just maybe, youâre not Dr Horse; King of Horses.â
Kravitz tries very hard not to be offended, but itâs not nice to be doubted. âIâve got three PhDs in horse, actually, itâs Dr Dr Dr Horse, King of Horses to you.â Â
Taako picks up the piping bag again. âWell what ifâŚâ He pipes a glorious un-horselike appendage.â
âThatâs aâŚ?â
Taako squidges the bag again.
âHorn.â Taako says with confidence.
âTwo horns.â
âYep.â Taako looks pleased with himself. âHorse!âÂ
âAnd you think that they haveâŚâ
âGaryl does.â Taako says firmly. âAre you going to tell him to his beautiful horse face that he isnât one?â
âNo.â Kravitz says, because heâs not. Mostly because thereâs no chance heâs telling Taako to his very handsome face that heâs very bad at cake art. Or that the Longhorn Cowfish exists.
âWhatâs that?â Taakoâs wielding the bag again.
âTentacle.â Taakoâs tongue is poking out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrates and it makes Kravitzâs chest ache with longing for⌠something. The last of the evening sun is streaming through the window, Taakoâs glowy and glorious and Kravitz longs to take a photo just so he can keep the moment in his pocket. It feels good, it feels like theyâre on the same side, itâs them against the cake establishment. Itâs been a long time since he felt like he had an ally.
âItâs a horse tentacle?â Kravitz asks, just in case thereâs a chance Taako is pivoting to something more sea themed.
âHorse tentacle.â He confirms.
âTaako, horses donât haveâŚâ Kravitz thinks he should probably be exasperated, worried that whether itâs a horse or a fish, or an octopus, itâs definitely not right. Not that heâs an expert in animal maths, but horse + fish probably doesnât equal dog, even if you squint.
âThen why does this one?â Taakoâs raw confidence is terrible and wonderful to behold. Maybe Kravitz can learn from him. Is this how he defeats Lydia and Edward? Can he ask Taako if they can meet up again so he can learn? âIf I buy you a drink or three can you teach me your raw charisma to help me deal with my shit colleagues please?â surely canât failâŚ
âIs everything okay here?â Julia stands in front of their counter, brow furrowed like sheâs worried. To be fair, they definitely havenât got anything that looks like fur happening.
âYep.â Taako smiles up at her like he isnât busy creating an abomination of both buttercream and nature.
âAnd youâre okayâŚâ She takes a moment to remember his name. âKravitz?â
âOh, yes. Everythingâs fine.â Kravitz lies, because Garyl needs a vet, or three, a whole team of specialists.
âIt didnât seem fine when you were fighting.â Julia looks pointedly at Taako.
âWeâre not fighting!â Taakoâs indignant, offended at the accusation. âWe were just discussing taxonomy.â
Julia turns to Kravitz. âIf you need us to find you a different station?â
âDid I do something wrong?â Oh, oh no, Kravitz straightens in shock. He isnât this person. Heâs good at classes, heâs good at teacher interaction, he has never ever ever had a bad grade and he doesnât plan to start now.
âWhat? No.â Kravitz is very used to the perplexed expression that Julia is wearing. People direct it at him a lot. He wishes he wasnât so familiar.
âShe thinks Iâm bothering you, handsome.â
âYouâre not bothering me!â Kravitz replies before he processes the second part of the sentence. Taako thinks heâs handsome! He said it so he must mean it.
âWell youâre not bothering me. In fact I think you should not bother me after class and take Taako out for a drink. Chaâboy has some theories about how giraffes look thatâre going to blow your mind.â
Kravitz resolutely doesnât think about how there is another thing he would let Taako blow. âYes⌠Yes absolutely, Iâd like that a lot Taako.â
âGross.â Julia says happily. âGlad we could necessitateâŚâ She pauses and waves her hand between them â... whatever this is with your fucked up fish cake.â
âItâs a horse!â They say indignant, unjustified, and perfectly synchronised.
#Hey Larissa I adore you and I appreciate you requesting a thing sorry it took a bajillion years#Taakitz#Taako absolutely knows how to ice a cake real good but he also likes to play#TAZ Balance#Taz fic#Noodyl Writes
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Ch 33: The Waterfall
Master List ~~ Previous Chapter ~~ WC: 3.4k Fanart by @acryliccassetteart and @the-little-moment!
I can't stop giggling at this mood board but it just captures the vibes of the chapter so well. ;)
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âCome on, Hunter. Letâs just see what happens,â Omega begged, directing her most winning smile at him as he stared flatly from across the table. They were enjoying a late breakfast on a lazy day, and her curiosity about the mysterious blossom heâd discovered a while ago had taken front and center stage. He didnât want anything to do with it, despite the baffling way it had come to him; it was too tightly wound around painful memories that heâd done his best to stuff away.
âYou take it, if you want,â he offered, but she shook her head immediately.Â
âIt had to be the ârecipientâ or whatever word it was,â she corrected. âIt might turn me into a frog if I try.â
âThat could be interesting,â said Hunter, eyes sparkling with a bit of mischief. It warmed Omegaâs heart, not having seen his brighter side for nearly a month now. Heâd been fairly upbeat during his wild adventures with Luciana, but after his overindulgence on Plata, and more so after the recent wedding, heâd seemed weighed down with an internal conflict that he refused to share.Â
âIâll try it if you come along,â she smiled, lifting her chin slightly as she became fairly certain she had him convinced.
âAlright,â he said, softening considerably as she beamed in enthusiasm. Her internship year had come to a close, and upon the completion of all of her evaluations and reflections, she had decided to take two part-time jobs to further narrow down her interests as she prepared for the Advancement Ceremony, after which she would officially be free to craft her life however she saw fit. One of the current pursuits was with a group of engineers on one of the neighboring islands, and the other was in one of the shops in The Cobbles, where she was learning about natural remedies and holistic healing methods. She was equally drawn to things requiring mental acuity as well as the tender-hearted care of others, and Hunter realized he didnât often take time to fully appreciate how incredibly well-rounded she was. He was, however, continually amazed at her impervious optimism, and it had encouraged him many times over.Â
He brought up the coordinates that Tech had sent for this âmagical waterfallâ and put the flower in his backpack, handling it carefully even though it had been secured in some kind of stasis orb that kept it perfectly suspended within the round shell. Omega threw in a few snacks as well as a couple of packable towels that would expand when the seal was broken, and the two of them set off.
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Artwork by @acryliccassetteart <3
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The walk was thoroughly enjoyable â a leisurely stroll punctuated with happy conversation and periods of quiet. It reminded him of Lyra, so he started thinking about all of his recent dates with Luci instead. It seemed that theyâd spent every free moment they had in each otherâs company over the last few weeks. If she wasnât at work, she was visiting his shop, and if she had a day off, they had plans for workouts or adventures. Heâd been out hunting increasingly longer, blaming the bountiful season of herd migration, but it was also the only place he was able to enjoy solitary time in a peaceful setting anymore.
The waterfall came into view, tucked deep within The Forest between two craggy mountains that were covered in trees. A single flat area was etched into the otherwise steep terrain, and the water poured into a pool from the flowing creek above. Omega was bouncing with excitement as they drew near, dropping their bags and inspecting the sight before them.Â
âWell, go on!â she encouraged, opening his backpack to remove the orb. âTake it out and letâs have a go.â
âCalm down,â he smiled, pulling his shirt over his head and leaving his swim shorts on. The sun was filtering through the trees, providing some spotty places of warmth, but the rest of the space was mostly shady, which wouldnât feel great if the water were as cold as he sensed.Â
âThereâs that beautiful sight again,â Omega teased, pointing at the half-skull butterfly tattoo on his ribcage. He sighed, shaking his head, and she patted him on the back. âYou could probably go somewhere to have it removed easily enough.â
âI know. Travel just hasnât been at the top of my list.â
He flipped a tiny switch on the protective orb, and it split open with a hiss, allowing the blossom to drop into Omegaâs outstretched hand. It was no longer glowing, but still maintained an ethereal creamy white color, the runes still barely visible along the edges of each graceful petal.Â
âYou go in here, I think,â she said. âIâll climb up to see whatâs at the top.â
âBe careful, the rocks look crumbly andââ
âHunter.â
âAlright.â
She made her way nimbly up the mountainside, aided by tree trunks that were conveniently placed to allow for solid steps, and she planted herself on a strong foothold as she peered over the ledge that held most of the flow before it crashed down the waterfall.
âThereâs a little pool up here. The water seems to move slowly through all these rocks,â she called down to him. âSo Iâll throw it in when youâre ready!â
Hunter sighed, wading into the chilly water down below. His body tensed more with each passing step that sank him in deeper until the bottom evened out as he neared the waterfall. Shielding his face from the spray, he glanced up to Omega, squinting as he saw her thumbs-up, then watched her lob the flower over her head into the pool above. He waited for a moment, staring at the water coursing down, but nothing seemed to change. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and sensing everything he could. There was nothing extraordinary about the scents or sounds, and the vibrations emanating from everything both living and dead felt the same as always. So he stepped all the way beneath the waterfall, shivering as it splattered over his head and shoulders.Â
He was grateful that it wasnât a very big flow, otherwise it would have been significantly more difficult. But as it were, he turned to face away from the rock wall, tilting his head back and running his hands over his hair as it washed away from his face. He didnât feel anything other than the crisp refreshment that came from the cold water, and he rubbed his eyes in his hands.
Then he gasped in surprise.
Behind his closed eyes, a colorful vision was coming to life. He furrowed his brow, squeezing his eyelids together as it developed before him. He was able to make out a graceful curve of the edge of something fibrous, and at its edge were hundreds of things that looked like tadpoles. The whole image glowed blue and green, some of the tadpoles radiant with activity.Â
Then suddenly, he was walking in a large meadow; some sheep were grazing nearby, and the scents and sounds were so realistic that he felt an anxiety rising in his gut. Distracted by the appearance of a fox that bounded toward from the forest, he stopped, watching the creature as it wove through his legs, brushing against his calf before cavorting playfully through the grass and flowers. It rolled onto its back, revealing its soft belly, and he bent to pet it. The fox closed its eyes, as content as could be, and Hunter found a smile on his face.
Without warning, the fox snapped at his hand, sinking its teeth into the side of his palm with a sinister gleam in its predatory eyes. He yelped, clutching his hand to his chest, feeling the pangs of pain there as well. He rose to his feet, taking a step back to kick the animal as hard as he could. Suddenly, everything froze except for a gentle gust of wind that reached from the sea with glowing tendrils of bluish green that danced gracefully through the air. They settled on the fox, also unmoving, and swirled around it a few times in loving caresses, then disappeared inside of it.Â
Then he was free to move again, as was the creature, who got up, shook itself off, and, without a single look back, trotted back into the forest the way it had come, tail swishing pleasantly as it vanished with a carefree frolick. Hunter stared after it, perplexed and hurt. One of the sheep at the edge of the herd, with an older-looking lamb beside it, was watching them, ears flicked forward in alert vigilance and body tensed in apprehension.
The vision darkened, returning to the original image of blue and green tadpoles lined up around a curve. But now the same blue-colored breeze from the meadow swept through, its graceful wisps flowing freely through the fibers of the starkly-contrasted colors of the shape. Somehow, though, it was all changed; the tiny wiggling things were receding from its edge, and they were no longer glowing.Â
âYou alright?â Omega called, slowly making her way down the side to watch him curiously, a touch of concern in her voice as she saw his head in his hands.
âFine!â he yelled, unable to open his eyes as he studied the mesmerizing pattern before him, committing it to memory as best he could. It slowly faded into darkness, and he couldnât feel a single hint of peril, rather an overwhelming sense of peace and warmth as the entire thing dimmed to nothing. Now it was a simple idea that surfaced in his mind, something that one of the Xyloans had said at the tiki bar a while ago: the island was sentient in a way. It protected itself and those who lived upon it. There would be struggles and dangers, but only those that served an ultimate good. It was an odd sort of reassurance that settled in his core, as though he were being beckoned to trust the planet itself, and then it was gone. A wave of tingly energy ran over him as he stepped out from beneath the water, sucking in a deep breath as he reeled from what had happened.Â
âSo?â Omega pressed, face tightening in concern as he drew near. His eyes were large and he seemed to be unable to suppress a small shiver that would tease his shoulders every few seconds. She tore open one of the towel packets, shaking it out as it expanded once freed from its vacuum-sealed pouch, and tossed it to him. He climbed out of the pool, picking it up from the rock where it lay, and vigorously rubbed all of his limbs before moving to stand in the brightest beam of sunlight.
âI donât know,â he admitted, turning to her with a shrug. âIt was something about glowing tadpoles, then some animals in a field⌠a fox bit me while a sheep watched⌠then the tadpoles were fading⌠â He cringed at the words coming out of his own mouth, suddenly selfâconscious about all of it. âBut then again, maybe I was just rubbing my eyes too hard,â he chuckled.Â
âWell⌠do you feel different?â she asked, tilting her head at him intently.
âOther than cold, no.âÂ
âHm. Well letâs see what Tech has to say about it.â
âWe donât need toââ
But she was already trotting down the mountain.Â
Hunter didnât even have time to change before he was plopped on the couch at Tech and Pheeâs. Having air-dried on the hike back, he reclined into the plush cushions as his brother sat in a chair across from him, leaning forward with his hands together and his knees on his elbows.Â
âIâm not a med bay patient here, Tech,â he warned, apprehensive at the intensity with which his brother was studying his every move.Â
âNo, you are not. However, I am highly curious. May I proceed with some questions and take a few samples if necessary?â Tech sat back, lips pressed together tightly as he waited for Hunterâs consent. He knew that, once given, it would prevent the stubborn clone from protesting every next move he would make.Â
Hunter sighed. âFine.â
âExcellent. Please recount the vision as accurately as you are able.â
Hunter repeated it, watching Tech typing into his datapad with flying fingers. Flickers of insight and satisfaction danced across his distinctive features as Hunter finished, sitting back and scratching his forearm.Â
âIt seems rather obvious, but I would like to ask some additional questions before venturing a hypothesis.â
âObvious?â Hunter sighed. âNaturally. Anyway, what?â
âAre you able to recall the specifics of our second mission to Pantora?â
âI mean⌠We disabled the weapons research facilityâŚ?â
âCorrect. Letâs continue.â Tech proceeded to interrogate him on a seemingly random array of events throughout their past, everything from the previous day to his first memories of existence, and Hunter felt his brain slowly turning to mush as he did his best to answer as much as he could. Eventually, he was at the end of his rope, and he flopped back on the couch in exasperation.Â
âCan you just tell me what youâre getting at?âÂ
âYes. Your description of the âtadpolesâ, which is a creative amphibious equivalent⌠for a child⌠reminded me of a recording taken of the brain while an individual accessed specific memories. The fact that the vision showed some sort of withdrawal suggests memory loss, however, it does not appear to be yours. As for the part about the animals in the field, I would advise you to take some time to meditate on the potential metaphorical applications of the scene you observed.â
âCryptic as always,â Hunter muttered.
âI am being as straightforward as possible,â Tech protested.
âNo, I meant this island stuff. Should have happened to Phee.â
âAccording to whom? The entire saga has not yet been completed. Perhaps the resolution will be highly favorable to you.â It was Techâs version of empathetic encouragement, and Hunter decided to take it to heart.Â
âWell I wonât refuse that.â
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Fanart by @the-little-moment -- go give the post some love!!
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When Hunter finally got up to make the short trek to his home, he had only made it to the edge of town when he noticed a familiar figure on the road ahead. It was dusk, a time when the fading light played tricks, making everything blend together or seem to be all on the same plane. Fortunately, he was more adept than most at discerning the visual cues of this particular hour, and yet he felt the energy from the person ahead even before he fully recognized who it was.Â
âWhere were you?â Luci exclaimed as he approached, the urgency in her voice laced with anger rather than concern. Hunter felt a barricade rising in his chest even as she rushed to him and grabbed his hands tightly.
âWent on a hike,â he deflected. âWith Omega,â he added in response to the quick flash in her eyes. âThen I went to Techâs. Why? Whatâs the issue?â
âI was just worried! I told you I had this afternoon off so I figured weâd hang out,â she admitted, voice softening while the tension remained.Â
âSorry,â he said placidly. âWe didnât have any plans.â
âI know. I tried to comm you!â
âAh. I must have forgotten it at home.â Nonchalance met affront as his eyes met her own, and he felt a nagging sense of conviction at his casual lie. She took a deep breath and shifted, eyes growing large and round. Heâd seen this look before; she employed it when trying to manipulate someone into whatever she desired them to be in that moment.
âAlright. Sorry,â she said, deflating to her usual, much more tolerable self. âI just⌠I kinda missed you,â she admitted sheepishly, leaning into him and tracing a finger along his collarbone.
âSince this morning?â He wasnât trying to be snarky, he just genuinely couldnât comprehend it.
âWhat can I say?â Luci teased, nuzzling in to plant a kiss on his neck. âYouâve got me wrapped around your finger.â Her words sent a shiver down his spine as she spoke against his neck. âAnywayâŚâ She pulled back, regarding him fondly. âIâve got the best date plans ever for tonight.â
âAh, I need to change⌠and itâs getting a little lateâŚâ
âNope! Not a care in the world, babe,â she interrupted, raising a triumphant finger in the air. âIâve got you. Itâs a treat for both of us. Nothing crazy, just some special time to relax because I care about you.â
Hunter was getting tired of being dragged around by everyone who wanted something from him, and he realized with a flash of self-hate that he was doing precisely what heâd accused Lyra of: placating others with no regard for his own needs or preferences. But rather than be riled up at the insight, his shoulders slumped a bit, and he closed his eyes as Luci leaned in for a kiss.Â
âTrust me,â she whispered against his lips.
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Lyra banged the pot against the stove, cursing her own clumsiness as she straightened it and returned to her chopping. She felt particularly cozy that night, lighting a few candles around the kitchen to add to the warm glow from the fireplace, and she was throwing together a last-minute dinner after having dozed off on the couch and lost track of time. As she sliced through the vegetables, she thought she heard a creak on the front porch. She slowly lowered her elbows, holding the knife still against the cutting board.Â
Nothing.Â
She continued her work more quietly, ears perked for any further sound.
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Hunter took a deep breath where he lay, flat on a massage table with a heavy blanket draped across his legs and nestled around his waist. Warm oil was spread across his back and arms, and the massage therapistâs skilled hands glossed across muscle and bone, kneading and stroking. He felt like a puddle, having finally given in to simply relax and enjoy it after an internal struggle of how odd it all seemed. Luci was in a room next to him, receiving the same treatment, and then they would have some time to soak in the nearby hot springs. It was a clever setup at this particular spa, where patrons could opt to be alone or with those they came with, and Luci had been notably understanding in offering him all the space and solitude he might want.Â
She had been much more clingy of late, and he kept sensing a frenetic energy when it came to his whereabouts. He was surprised at the petty jealousy sheâd succumbed to â sheâd seemed all too willing to share him in the past and had appeared to be completely secure in his affections. Perhaps sheâd been shaken by his withdrawal after Plata, but it had been fanned into a larger flame when Lyra returned. He didnât feel as though heâd given her any reason to doubt, and she had even encouraged him to be friends with Lyra despite his assurance that he had no interest in doing so.Â
The calming music slowed as the track came to an end, and in the silence before the next one began, Hunter was lulled by his own heartbeat, echoed by the masseuseâs, and he paused his thoughts, centering himself in his senses and taking it all in. The building felt empty, he was surprised to note, and he suddenly became aware of a rhythmic vibration from his pack where it lay on a chair in the corner of the room.Â
âSorry, I have to get that,â he said quietly to the massage therapist, who nodded with a smile and slipped out of the room. He sat up, pulling the blanket around his waist as he shuffled to his bag, and his pulse was racing now as he emerged from the blissful fog of relaxation and realized the source of the sound.Â
The emergency beacon.
Where was Omegaâ
No.
Lyra.
The emptiness of the rooms around him sent a jolt of electricity through him as he pulled his clothing on as quickly as possible. Leaving a handful of credits on the table by the bottle of massage oil, he left immediately, murmuring a quick apology to the masseuse as he fled.
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Song: It's My Life - Bon Jovi (Lyrics) đľ.
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Hello lovely. Iâve been thinking about vacation au. Please tell me Clarke runs into Lexa swimming in some crystal clear Grecian water and wells has to close her mouth for her.
(Not quite, but close!)
Previously: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
By mid-morning the narrow streets near the harbour are already swarming with island hoppers fresh off the ferry. More line the quayside, waiting to board the day cruise that takes in the larger, more populous archipelago further down the coast. So-called âjewels of the Aegeanâ, theyâre feted for being playgrounds of the rich and famous, boasting a slew of luxury resort hotels, designer boutiques and staggeringly expensive seafront restaurants.
For all its charm and scenic vistas, at least Polis has one foot in the real world. Here, craggy-faced fishermen and dock hands in scruffy overalls are hard at work unloading the morningâs catch, doing their best to ignore the clusters of tourists floating around, or at least tolerating their presence with stoic indifference.
Andâitâs possible Clarke might be biasedâPolis has Lexa, currently leading the charge like a woman on a mission. Clarke sticks close, her hand in Lexaâs sure grip, hurrying to match her loping strides as they make a beeline for the marina. Along the way they pass an assortment of small motorboats in all shapes and sizes, from dinghies and jet skis to skiffs and cabin cruisers and everything in between, until a gleaming white single-masted sailboat comes into view at last.Â
Clarke stops dead in her tracks on the cobblestones, fingers slipping from Lexaâs.
Her jaw drops.
âIs this yours?â
Lexa glances over and laughs at Clarkeâs expression. âI make good tips, but not that much.â
She points to the modest vessel moored next to it, an open-top vintage deck boat with a walnut veneer interior and burnt orange leather upholstery thatâs bleached from exposure to the sun and the salty sea air. âSpirit of Polisâ is written in blue cursive script on the hull.
âI mean, this oneâs great too,â Clarke is quick to respond. She styles it out. âNot so flashy. Compact. Classic. Nice, uh, sleek lines.â
Lexa peers over the top of her sunglasses, lips subtly twisting to the side. âIt belongs to my uncle, so you donât have to worry about offending me or the boat.â
She puts down the cooler containing their provisions of cold drinks and extends a hand to help Clarke aboard. A little unsteady on her feet at first, Clarke holds on tightly for support while she finds her balance, shifting her weight to counteract the bobbing motion of the boat as water sloshes against the sides. Once sheâs confident she isnât going to fall flat on her face or, worse, into the harbour, she takes a few cautious steps to reach the small seating area at the rear. She shrugs off her tote bag to stow under the bench and situates herself, the sun-scorched leather burning hot against the backs of her thighs.
From this safe perch (and prime ogling spot), she watches Lexa collect the thick rope that tethers the boat, tossing it onto the deck before she gracefully hops across with the cooler and gets behind the controls. Full of poise at the helm, like itâs second nature to assume command, the signature pout in place as Lexa lifts her chin like sheâs surveying her nautical domain.Â
It goes without saying that the whole preppy, boat-captain vibe is one hundred percent working in her favour.
Shades on. Hair spilling down her back in glossy chestnut waves, the ends getting whipped around by the wind. Appealing in her pale pink button-down worn over a snug white tank. Shirt open and catching the light breeze, the sleeves rolled up to reveal a hint of muscle definition and the ink that encircles her bicep. Tight little navy blue shorts hug her hips and ass in ways that are about to cause a major international incident at sea, because Clarke is far from looking respectfully.
âReady?â
When her eyes snap up, she spies the half-smile on Lexaâs side profile, as though she detects the unholy thirst emanating from mere feet away.
Clarke gives a slow, absentminded nod, the tip of her tongue poking out the side of her mouth as her eyes make another involuntary sweep down Lexaâs form.
âClarke.â
She gets a hold of herself, breathing in deeply, and with it the spell is broken.
âMm? Oh, yeah,â she says, feeling a resurgent wiggle of anticipation about this mystery adventure theyâre about to embark on together. All Lexa was willing to divulge when they met is that itâs Polisâs best-kept secret, a spot known only to locals, unreachable except by boat, and so far unspoiled by tourists. Clarke had feigned offense on the last point, but soon dropped the act when Lexa tilted in for a kiss that went on and on and made her stomach clench. Each time Clarke started to retreat, Lexa would chase her mouth and draw her back in for more.Â
Her lips are still tingling.
(Both sets.)
âAt least give me a hint about where weâre going?â
The enigmatic smirk that plays around Lexaâs mouth widens a fraction. âI thought you liked surprises.â
âOh, I do. But Iâm also stubborn as hell and wonât take no for an answer, so jot that down.â
It earns a laugh, one Clarke is fast becoming enamoured with, and she canât control the warm tingle that goes through her when she hears it or the rush of elation she gets from bringing a rare grin to Lexaâs face.Â
âGood to know,â Lexa says as she reaches for the ignition key. Her next words are almost lost to the splutter and chug of the engine before it roars to life. âI like a challenge.â
~*~
Within an hour, they reach a small, secluded cove surrounded by sheer limestone cliffs, the ancient rock sculpted by wind and waves, where sparse scatterings of tall, rugged pines sprout precariously from narrow ledges in defiance of the elements.
It appears like a mirage, shimmering into view: a bay of dreamy, pristine, white-gold sands and crystal clear turquoise waters, serene and inviting, and there isnât a soul in sight. The closest thing they had to company was the pod of dolphins they spotted off the starboard (Clarke learned) side about twenty minutes ago. Sheâd gasped and clutched Lexaâs arm, bouncing on her heels in sheer delight. But it was the look they shared, brimming with joy and something unaccountably softer and fonder, that made it all the more magical, the moment already locked into Clarkeâs memory.
âWhat do you think?â Lexa asks.
Lost for words, Clarke shakes her head in silent awe.
She turns to Lexa, and the smile Lexa directs at her, eyes bright and glowing in the sunlight, leaves her just as speechless. When Clarke finds her voice at last, it comes out thick, clogged with emotion; touched and amazed by the incredible beauty of what she seesâthe place, and the woman who brought her here. So moved that sheâs dangerously close to shedding a tear, her vision glazing over.Â
She blinks the moisture away.
âItâsâŚâ She draws in a breath and lets it out slowly. Lifts her eyebrows. âWow.â
She doesnât second guess the impulse to wrap an arm around Lexaâs waist, to plant a soft, grateful kiss on her jaw.
âThank you for sharing it with me.âÂ
Full lips twitch at the corners. âMy pleasure.â
With one hand resting on the wheel, Lexa drapes her free arm around Clarkeâs shoulders. They remain like that, Clarke hugging Lexaâs side and taking in the spectacular scenery as Lexa guides the boat in at a steady rate of knots.
âI canât believe this place has stayed under the radar. Youâd think tour operators would be running excursions out here every hour until sunset.â
âClarke.â Lexa grows serious all of a sudden, and that only makes Clarke want to kiss her again. Coax another smile. âYou must promise not to tell anyone. Itâs how we preserve it for future generations.â
Clarke schools her features, pretending to match Lexaâs gravity.
âWell⌠itâll cost you. My silence doesnât come cheap.â
The slight frown Lexa wears smooths out as soon as she catches on. A quizzical eyebrow flexes in a way thatâs rudely attractive.
âName your price, but donât forget I work in hospitality.â
âIâm not interested in your money, Lexa. What I wantâ - Clarke trails her hand over Lexaâs hip and the perfect curve of her backside to give it a slow, purposeful squeeze, relishing Lexaâs intake of breath and the darkening of her gaze as she glances at Clarkeâs lips - âis you.â
She meant to say âyour bodyâ but she doesnât correct the verbal slip. Because, yeah, she does want to bend Lexa into all kinds of shapes like a pretzel, but she also has a deep desire to learn more about Lexa as a person, to find out what makes her tick, beyond what she likes to do in bed.
Lexa takes it in stride regardless, easing back into the confidence she has in spades.
Something about the slope of her smile signals sheâs about to gain the upper hand.Â
She shrugs.
âOkay, deal.â
The enduring gleam in Lexaâs eyes before she turns her attention back to the sea gives Clarke palpitations. Her pulse thunders in her ears, drowning out the engine noise and the crash of the boat breaking the waves.Â
~*~
They drop anchor a short distance from the shore, an easy swim from the dazzling white sands. Not yet ready to take a dip, preferring to bake in the heat for a while first, Clarke spreads a large beach towel on the deck for sunbathing. She senses Lexaâs attention on her as she shimmies out of her shorts and shucks her loose tee to reveal the red halter neck two-piece that Octavia helped pick out after breakfast.Â
(âHellooo, mama,â Octavia had drawled after Clarke emerged from the en suite and gave a reluctant twirl. Sheâd let out a low whistle as she ran her eyes up and down. âAlmost wish I was tagging along just to watch Sexy Lexyâs head spin 360-degrees before it explodes. The twins ainât playing.â)
At the time, Clarke had rolled her eyes and fought a blush but sheâs glad she went with Oâs suggestion.
Aware of her present captive audience, she proceeds to get comfortable on her back. One knee bent, an arm tucked behind her head as a pillow, showing off her best assets like a 1950s calendar pinup girl. Even behind the dark tinted lenses of her sunglasses, she sees Lexaâs eyes hungrily trace the shape of her body. Clarke basks in it, a smile tucked into the corner of her mouth, secure in the knowledge that sheâs not just a snack, sheâs the whole damn meal, and Lexa looks like she wants to devour every last crumb.
But Clarkeâs smugness is short-lived, because in the next moment sheâs the one left gawking when Lexa wordlessly strips down to the skimpiest pair of bikini bottoms and not a stitch else, brow quirking up as she peers over her shoulder then dives off the deck, slicing through the water with barely a splash.
Clarke quickly levers up onto her elbows to watch Lexa surface seconds later, hair slicked back and plastered to her skull, a sly little tilt to her lips as she treads water.
âCome on in. The temperature is perfect,â she calls out, looking every inch the siren that lures thirsty sapphic sailors to their deaths.Â
Clarke tries to cling on to the last vestiges of composure she has remaining.
âGonna work on my tan for a little bit.â
The pout returns and she laughs, âSoon!â
Grabbing the tube of sunscreen from her nearby tote, she squeezes a large dollop into her palm. While Lexa does slow laps around the boat, Clarke liberally reapplies the lotion, slathering it on until all the exposed skin within reach is covered.
Before long, she hears Lexa climb the ladder onto the swim platform, accompanied by the rush of water cascading off her body as she rises out of the sea.
The soft slap of wet footfalls draws nearer.
âLex?â Clarke twists around. âCould you do myââ
She stalls mid-sentence, only cognizant of her fingers closing hard around the tube in her hand when a spurt of lotion shoots out, splattering across her thigh and the towel.Â
She doesnât even flinch.
All Clarke can do is gape and stare, watching rivulets of water run down the slope of Lexaâs bare chest. Eyes drawn inexorably to taut nipples and golden skin that glistens under the sun, to the long, lean lines of Lexa and the scrap of luminous orange fabric that sits low on her hips.
Clarkeâs belly tightens, arousal flaring hot between her legs.
(A voice in her head that sounds disturbingly like Wells tells her to close her mouth.)
She has to remind herself to breathe.Â
Is thankful for the oversized shades that partially mask her expression, because she isnât in control of what her face is doing right now. But if Lexaâs lip-bitten smile is any indication, itâs a lost cause anyway.
Casually wringing the water out of her hair as she approaches, Lexa glances at the milky white streak on Clarkeâs inner thigh.Â
âNot the first time Iâve made a girl squirt.â
Clarke mutters a sarcastic âha haâ, rubs the lotion into her skin, then wipes her hands on the edge of the towel before she reclines again. She fakes nonchalance when Lexa sinks down beside her, but itâs impossible to ignore the butterflies.
She rolls her shoulders and stares at the sky above, fixating on the solitary vapour trail that cuts across the endless blue.
âSpeaking of previous liaisons... do you bring all your conquests here?â Sheâs mostly kidding, but thereâs an undercurrent of needing to know too. She peers at Lexa. âOr am I one of the lucky few?â
A slow shake of Lexaâs head before she leans over on her elbow, closing in and partially blocking the sun, and Clarkeâs skepticism must be plain to see, because Lexa looks so intensely sincere now, no trace of a smile or any disingenuousness when she says: âItâs the truth, I swear.â
Still, Clarke has her doubts. Thereâs no way Lexa isnât tripping over hot women throwing themselves at her feet and this boat trip is too well-orchestrated not to be a tried and tested seduction technique.Â
Clarke peels off her shades to look Lexa square in the eye, and that frank, steady gaze pierces straight through her.
âI mean it, Clarke.âÂ
The space between them shrinks.Â
Lexaâs pupils dilate as her focus shifts to parted lips. âYouâre special.â
Water drips off the ends of Lexaâs hair onto Clarkeâs shoulder and chest, and whatever rebuttal she had dies in her throat. Sheâs the one to reach out, gripping Lexa by the neck to tug her the rest of the way and kiss her like Clarkeâs been dreaming of all morning.
As soon as Lexa throws a long leg over Clarke to straddle her, knees bracketing her hips, she needs no further convincing.
Itâs on.Â
She dips her tongue inside Lexaâs mouth and slides both hands up Lexaâs rib cage to cup her breasts, a shiver running through Clarke when she feels the hard poke of nipples against her palms. She kneads, and the low, throaty noise it earns her sets her nerves alight, warm tingles suffusing her body.
They kiss deeply, greedily.
They kiss until Clarke has to drag her mouth away to gulp down some air, only to have the oxygen punched out of her lungs once again when Lexa uses the opportunity to shove her bikini bottoms off, scoop her mane of wet hair to one side and resettle against Clarkeâs thigh. With her hands planted on either side of Clarkeâs shoulders, Lexa holds herself up as she starts to work along the tensed muscle.
The slick, molten feel of Lexa, sliding against her skin, riding Clarke, makes her burn. She lurches up into the next kiss, hungrily reclaiming Lexaâs mouth, urging her on with a grip on her ass, and that shaky little hitch of breath in the back of Lexaâs throat whenever the friction gets her just right succeeds in getting Clarke wetter and wetter too. At this rate, she might come before Lexa does, and the odds only increase when Lexa takes Clarkeâs hand and guides it between her legs.Â
âUse your fingers.â
Another surge of heat floods through Clarke at the instruction, hearing the normally smooth, modulated tone of Lexaâs voice roughed by need.
Clarke studies Lexaâs face, watching for the tiny flickers of reaction as she runs her fingers lower, fascinated by each and every twitch and jolt and slight gasp as she explores. She dips in and drags the wetness up to swirl around Lexaâs clit and is rewarded by the sharp jerk of Lexaâs hips and quite possibly the dirtiest kiss of Clarkeâs entire life. She needs no prompting to slide through slick heat to tease at Lexaâs entrance again, fingertips doing a couple of slow swirls before she pauses.Â
For a beat they remain suspended in a freeze frame of anticipation. Each holding still, a breath caught in their throats.Â
On the exhale Clarke pushes inside.
And fuck, she missed this. Touching yourself is great and all, empowering, fantastic for stress relief, et cetera. But nothing beats the sound another woman makes when you enter her for the first time, when you hear that shaky intake of breath and you feel her clench around your fingers.
âGood?â Clarke asks.Â
Lexa nods, bottom lip held between her teeth as she looks down at Clarke with hooded eyes, the green of her irises nearly eclipsed by black.
Part of Clarke canât quite believe this is her reality. That sheâs buried to the knuckles and Lexa is moving on her, rolling to meet the steady pump of her wrist.Â
She glances between their bodies and a groan escapes, another sharp twist of lust coiling in the pit of her stomach once her eyes fasten on her own two fingers coated with Lexaâs arousal, fucking into her. But Clarke pries her eyes away, roving over tight abdominals, taking in the curves of Lexaâs tits and the jut of her nipples, torn between wanting them in her mouth and watching her fingers disappear inside again.
Itâs Lexaâs half-stifled whimper when Clarkeâs thumb finds her clit that sharpens her focus.Â
Winding her arm around Lexaâs lower back, Clarke sits them upright and swiftly brings their lips together. The abrupt change of angle has Lexa gasping hotly into her mouth. Again, louder, when Clarkeâs palm rubs in. Lexa grips her by the shoulder and the back of her neck, blunt nails digging in as Lexa grinds down harder, faster, speeding towards the climaxâthe first of many, if Clarke has her wayâsucking in short, sharp gasps while Clarke keeps pace, despite it being hell on her wrist.
Theyâre hardly kissing at all now, mouths hanging slack and sharing the same air, noses pressing into cheeks as they pant against one anotherâs lips.
She soon feels the first flutters, the growing tension in Lexaâs form, the choppy motion of Lexaâs hips and the careless scratch of her nails at Clarkeâs nape. She curls the tips of her fingers on each partial drag out then slams back in, lifting Lexa an inch off her lap with each thrust. Clarke keeps the heel of her palm tight against Lexaâs clit, the pressure firm and constant, and in the next collection of halting, rapid breaths, Lexaâs whole frame pulls taut. A ragged cry is torn from her throat and she clenches hard, coming in a hot spill around Clarkeâs fingers. Lexa shudders through it, a tremble in her jaw when she catches Clarkeâs mouth in a fierce, bruising kiss, licking into her with a groan that makes Clarke gush in turn.
They remain in a heavy lip lock long after the tremors subside, neither inclined to separate. Restless hands weave through Clarkeâs hair then seek out her curves, roaming down her chest with purpose, pushing under the top half of her swimsuit. She gives a low hum of approval when Lexaâs thumbs roll over the tight tips of her nipples, the ache mirrored in the dull, pulsing emptiness between her legs.
She feels close to orgasm already, like if she got even the tiniest bit of friction sheâd go off like a rocket. Just a small shift of her hand to grind against her own knuckles would do it. But the way Lexa is touching her breasts, palms running all over, teasing her nipples into stiff, hypersensitive points, might be enough to get Clarke there.
And all the while, sheâs still inside Lexa. Fucking her lazily with slow presses of her fingers, incapable of much more vigour when her wrist is screaming. Sheâs debating what to do next, whether to withdraw and flip Lexa onto her back for round two or continue like this, when a distant droning noise intrudes, faintly audible above the gentle lap of water, the thick, wet squelch of Clarkeâs hand working between Lexaâs thighs, and their combined heavy breathing.
Growing more distracted by the second, Clarke draws her mouth away. She squints at the horizon beneath the shade of her free hand while warm lips meander along her jaw and down her neck.
She ceases her movements, despite Lexaâs meaningful buck of her hips and the subsequent small growl of complaint when Clarke fails to take the hint.
âWhatâsââ Teeth nip at the fading hickey on her throat and she gasps, hand flying to tangle in Lexaâs damp, curling hair. But as the object begins to resolve itself, Clarke tenses for a different reason. âIs that a boat?â
Lexa abandons her sulk to look too.
A white shape is rapidly approaching, throwing up sea spray, sunlight glinting off the surface and the waves and making it difficult to discern from this distance until⌠oh. Oh, yeah.
Letting out a string of (presumably) expletives in her native tongue, Lexa scrambles off Clarke to scoop up the clothes strewn across the deck. She pulls on her tank top, yanks the shorts up her legs, and has just enough time to arrange herself into a casual pose beside Clarke before the other boat reaches them. The occupants are obnoxiously young; late teens or early twenties, as far as Clarke can tell from a distance; a bunch of bikini-clad girls and lanky guys in board shorts hanging off one another as music blasts.
She sighs inwardly. Grits her teeth and refrains from giving them the middle finger while they whoop and cheer in passing, beer bottles held aloft as they thunder towards the wooden jetty.
So much for the sexy beach idyll. Clearly, not everyone has such reverence for the tranquility of this spot.
âShall we stay a while orâŚ?â Clarke hedges.Â
Lexa purses her lips and casts her stormy gaze around, jaw working side to side in rotation, but a gentle touch on her leg pulls her focus back to Clarke.Â
Consternation softens into regret.
âYou didnât even get a chance to swim or feel the sand between your toes.â
âIâll cope. BesidesâŚâ Clarke wets her lips and drops into a huskier register. âIt wasnât a total bust.â
Lexaâs mouth twitches, clearly fighting a smile, and to Clarke thatâs a win.
âCome on, donât let these pesky teens ruin our hot date,â she continues in a playful tone. âI bet you have a few aces up your sleeve; other favourite haunts to wow the ladies with.â
One shoulder lifts in a slight shrug. âWe do have the boat for the rest of the day. I could take you somewhere else. For lunch, if youâre hungry yet?â
Clarke gives a noncommittal hum, lightly trailing her wet fingers along the soft skin of Lexaâs inner thigh. âI could eat.â
The suggestive undertone isnât lost in translation. Their eyes meet and Clarke dares to make it explicit.
âBut lunch wasnât what I had in mind⌠unless weâre counting pussy as a food group.â
Lexa loses the battle against keeping her smile under control. The tips of her ears are tinged pink. âAre Americans always so forward?â
âUm, I donât recall any shyness on your part two nights ago.â
Dainty little ears burn brightly while Lexaâs smile grows, becoming toothier, and Clarke just wants to smooch that perfect face all day long.
âAnyway, I prefer the term âgo-getter.â As in, I see someone I want and I go get her.â
A pained groan. âI should leave you stranded on the beach for that.â
âHey!â Clarke swats at Lexaâs knee in retaliation, but Lexa catches her hand, holding it captive. Clarke sniffs for dramatic effect. âI was going to let you strip me out of this bathing suit later, but now Iâm strongly reconsidering.â
âIf it helps sway your decision, Iâd definitely appreciate seeing you naked again.â
âAnd how would you show your gratitude?â
âMm. At least three times, and maybe twice more with the strap if youâre into toys.â
God.
âOkay. Alright. Well, lucky for you, Iâm kind of dying for you to fuck me so I guess that clinches it.â
Itâs about as far from playing it cool as could be, but Clarke doesnât care. The truth is sheâs soaked, aching for relief, and she isnât picky about whichever method Lexa might use to get her off, as long as it happens soon.
Eyes flashing dark, Lexa cups a hand behind Clarkeâs neck and pulls her mouth to hers. Clarke reacts without thought, already opening up to accept the slide of Lexaâs tongue before her brain catches up and she remembers theyâre not alone.
Cracking an eye open, sheâs relieved to see nobody on the other boat appears to be paying them any attention. She attempts to evade the next kiss, only for Lexa to pursue it more doggedly, and that makes Clarke smile even as she lays a palm on Lexaâs chest to gently hold off her advance. The mini pout on Lexaâs face when they pull apart is a treat, and Clarke canât conceal her enjoyment of it. Unable to resist the lure, she steals one final peck.Â
For a few indulgent seconds, she luxuriates in the softness of Lexaâs full bottom lip, until it dawns on her that an hour-long return journey stands between them and more orgasms, and she sighs.Â
âWhy isnât teleportation a real thing yet? Having to wait a full 60 minutes to get you under me is so unfair.â
Slowly, with the greatest delicacy and patience, Lexa brushes their noses together, one side then the other, nudging the tip before she withdraws. Despite the sun beating down on her back, it gives Clarke chills, shivers running down her neck and arms. For the duration she just holds still and melts while her stomach flips, and the butterflies that had lain dormant return in full force.Â
When she opens her eyes, sheâs greeted by the slight, sloping smile on Lexaâs lips and her stomach does another somersault.
âIâm starting to think youâre only interested in me for sex,â Lexa says lightly.
Clarke lets out a small scoff. âYouâre the one with a one-track mind. I was minding my own business, soaking up the rays, until you pounced.â
âCan you blame me?âÂ
Lexaâs heated stare roves over several inches of cleavage before she forcibly drags her eyes back up.Â
âActually⌠I have a confession to make.â She draws that plush bottom lip, still slightly swollen and red from kissing, between her teeth. âI dropped a tray of drinks at work yesterday because I had a flashback to you sitting on my face. Anya yelled at me and I didnât even give a fuck that she deducted it from my tips.â
Heat rises in Clarkeâs cheeks, triggered by her own vivid recollection of events. She wonât forget it in a hurry and sheâs flattered to hear it was just as memorable for Lexa too. But also, it feels like a point of pride that she made Lexaâs cool girl veneer slip, even if she wasnât there to witness it in person. Â
âNow I feel partly responsible for this tragic loss of earnings and broken glassware.â
âI said you were trouble.â
They inch closer, eyes glued to lips, their breath hot on one anotherâs faces.
âHow can I make it up to you?â Clarke asks.
âI have some ideas.â
Her mind canât help going to the aforementioned strap.
All smiles, they surrender to the magnetic pull. The world around them recedes. Thereâs only Lexaâs mouth on hers, soft yet urgent, and the tingles that erupt all over, Clarkeâs pulse accelerating when long fingers thread into her hair again.
And itâs sublime.Â
Close to perfection.
She can almost hear the swell of imaginary violins soundtracking the momentâuntil a smattering of shrill wolf whistles pierces through the bliss.Â
The kiss breaks on a huff of shared, quiet laughter. Clarkeâs eyes slide across to the jetty, where theyâre being enthusiastically toasted by their neighbours. She groans and drops her forehead to Lexaâs shoulder, breathing in the saltwater, sun-warmed scent of her before showing her face again.
âI believe thatâs our cue to leave,â Clarke says.
The long, lidded look Lexa favours her with, eyes shaded darker by desire and the hint of some deeper emotion that feels altogether too big, too soon to acknowledge, has Clarke battling the urge to launch herself at Lexaâs lips again, regardless of the unwanted spectators nearby.
âKeep that up, Lex, and they might really have something to holler aboutâand possibly livestream on the internet.â
A faint smile reappears. âWhat am I doing, Clarke?â
âLooking. Giving me thoseâ - she gestures vaguely - âeyes.â
It loosens a small laugh. Lexa lowers her gaze and Clarke regrets mentioning it now, because it feels like the sun momentarily disappearing behind the clouds when Lexaâs thrilling, singular focus isnât on her.
âI didnât say I didnât like it.âÂ
Lexa looks up, and the restored eye contact makes Clarkeâs blood pump faster.
She lets out the breath she was holding. âMaybe I like it more than I should, considering.â
âConsideringâŚ?â
âI wonât be here next week.â
Pragmatic; matter-of-fact. A reality check and a casual reminder they both need to hear before they throw themselves headlong into⌠whatever this thing is between them: it has an expiration date.
In the lull, Lexa scans every millimetre of Clarkeâs face and she hopes the nerves donât show through the front sheâs putting on.
After a moment, the corner of Lexaâs mouth lifts into a smirk, but it seems slightly forced. Her eyes are more pebbly, neutral grey than green. âThen letâs make sure you have good memories to take home with you.â
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#OTD in 1995 â Father Ted was broadcast for the first time.
A television programme offers to interview Father Ted Crilly. However Ted goes to extreme lengths to ensure the other members of the clergy on the island donât interrupt his moment in the spotlight. Meanwhile Craggy Island hosts Fun Land, a fun fair to which Dougal is desperate to go. Ted takes the film crew to the fair, leading to a massive mess.
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high tide (came and brought you in) - chapter one.
summary: youâd originally rescued the injured merman out of kindness, and perhaps a healthy undercurrent of fear of what others in your town might do to the creature. the last thing you ever expected after returning him to the sea, was for him to try to stay.
tags: afab reader, merfolk, mention of explicitly-inhumane fishing practices.
this fic is a part of the teahouse collab, on discord!
A hunting party had left port, yesterday.
It was made up of the usual kind of tourist, you gathered, overhearing the neighborhood gossip on the sandy, well-trodden path into town. It was made up of a bunch of trigger-happy business students, likely bored with another year of academia and looking for something visceral. Looking to harm in a way that was sanctionedâ even celebrated, in some corners of your seaside town. Doubtlessly, they were after the biggest creatures they could catch: sharks, dolphins, or something even more dangerous. Most of those you passed seem to believe that theyâd be headed to the outer reefs.
This year, the annual merfolk migration had come early. You had heard through the grapevine that some of the offshore boats had begun to radio in with the usual signs: faulty sonar, empty traps and a general sense of unease, the closer they got to the outer-lying reefs, where multitudes of traveling pods made their temporary homes. Anyone with sense usually knew to stay far away from merfolk-territory, no matter how temporary their stay.
But now that that the sudden departure of the townâs gaudiest fishermen had combined with this news, it was collectively generating more rumor than Baralou Island had handled in months. As the path transitioned to craggy, uneven sidewalk, you still heard people on their porches, gossiping about what couldâve drawn the groupâs attention so suddenly. Perhaps it was one of the cartload of technological additions that theyâd constantly been wheeling up onto the sleek convertible boat theyâd rented. Youâd already had to duck through their large group by the harbor yesterday, and through the small crowds that had gathered to see what the fuss was about.
One of their number had been particularly boastful, perched at the top of the gangplank. His cerulean hair almost blinding in the sun, youâd heard him claim that he possessed the skill to capture merfolkâ âI could snag a whole pod, in a single net!â â Anywhere else, those statements wouldâve warned a call to the coast guard, if not the police. On Baralou, however, it was met with scattered applause and a single wolf-whistle.
Anti-merfolk sentiment always reached a peak in the summertime. The reason always varied: a lesser catch of fish that year, an increase in hurricane warnings. Merfolkâ intelligent, powerful and little-understoodâ made the perfect scapegoats. With the early arrival of their annual migration, it was the opinion of some locals that the large pods passing through the reefs of the island were choking out the tourism industry. Never mind the fact that it was barely the start of summer, and the migration never lasted longer than a month. Nothing got people riled up like the notion of losing out on their most important source of income.
As a former resident, you knew that Baralou took great, and often dubiously-legal pains to advertise itself as having the âsafest beaches in the world.â Entire books recounted years worth of fishing competitions with consistently high numbers of so-called âincidental harmâ to merfolk. When taking these yearsâ worth of torment and fear tactics into account, it was little wonder that no mer would dare cross the reefs near the island, these days.
As a teenager, you too had sworn you would never come back to the island againâ though this was more to do with Baralouâs pitifully-tiny size outside of tourist season, and the maddening frustration of growing up amongst the same faces youâd seen since nursery school. Nearing the end of your college career has reignited that passion to stay awayâ but unfortunately, your budget wasnât quite in agreement with those plans. A summer of housesitting for your aunt and uncle, as well as your waitstaff position at one of Baralouâs many dockside restaurants would ideally give you enough to leave for good, come the fall.
Although you could barely wait to repack your overflowing suitcases, your first weeks back home had reminded you that not everything here was abjectly awful. Your expression lightened once youâd ordered from your usual cafĂŠ, turning to find an outside table already occupied with your favorite resident.
Camie Utshushimi wasted no time in shattering your hopes for normalcy.
âI heardââ she began in a low voice, as you seated yourself, ââthat somebody on the south-side offered to guide the business yuppies to a huge mer pod.â
You exhaled your disapproval over a warm mug of tea.
âThatâs gotta be a scam. Even if they wanted to go out there, those reefs are nationally-protected. The fines alone would keep anybody away.â
âBabes, you know as well as I do that wonât stop them.â
âEven if they make itââ you retorted, ââI highly doubt a mer from these parts would be so easily caught, especially by that group.â
Camie at least seemed to take that point into consideration, a brief smile playing at her lips. She took a slow sip of coffee, her warm brown eyes pensively scanning the water.
âIf anything, theyâll snag a nesting sea turtle, or a manatee that got washed in by mistake. The poor thing.â still you frowned, considering, âI hope they come back with nothing. But with all that fancy gearâŚâ
This seemed to shake Camie out of her reverie, turning from the sea with a dismissive click of her tongue.
âNah, Inasa already gave me the deetsâ thatâs all rented. Fat chance they know how to use all of it.â
âAre you sure?â your lower lip worried anxiously, under your teeth.
Despite her agreeable chirp, you knew by the actual look in her eyes that she couldnât be fully certain. You both finished your drinks in uneasy silence.
Camie was always amongst the islandâs earliest risers, which meshed well with you. Shame that she had a social calendar more tightly packed than a visiting royalâ she was never available in the evenings, no matter how many nights you tried to invite her to join you at the beach bars. Regardless, she was your closest friend on the island, and if these short moments outside the cobblestone cafe were what you had with her each morning, it was something you were grateful for.
On your way home, you cut back through the fishing harborâ at least, until you were stopped by a growing crowd. You couldnât make out what was going on amongst their fluctuating number, but with everyone talking and the piercing beep of a large convertible boat backing in along the docks, you could only assume the townâs âconquering heroesâ had finally returned. Disgusted, you gave up your gawking and diverted to walk along the craggy shoreline for the last half-mile, back towards your borrowed home.
Most beachgoers preferred the islandâs largest offerings, located just outside the shopping district at the other end of the island. These days, you preferred this semi-deserted spit of sand, despite the high tide forcing you to walk through the shallows for most of the way home.
Your weak earbuds were cranked to the max, but still did little against the crash of the waves. Slowly, you picked your way through a bed of oyster shellsâ even if any accidental cuts would be soothed in an instant, once the saltwater raced over your feet, again. At last, you reached the end of the shell bed, picking up the pace as the wind pushed insistently at you, spraying sand into your face and forcing you to stop, until it calmed.
Your podcast faded to ringing static in your ears when you spotted the torn fishing net, lying ahead.
Its edges had gouged deep into the sandâ and, as it was so close to the shoreline itself, the waves that followed had buried them under more silt, throughly entrapping it. It was doubtlessly lost from the harbor. Was that the source of the commotion youâd missed? But, more horrifying than its condition (so tangled up on itself that it resembled a massive bunch of seaweed) or location, far from the fishing harbor, was the fact that it was moving.
Fear coursed through your veins. You needed to call some kind of authority. There should be a phone number at the prior beach access for the wildlife conservatory, if you could just get back to it. Youâd have to go back over the oyster bed, but if something was still alive in that monstrosity, there wasnât much choice to make. Youâd taken all of two steps back, preparing yourself for the pain, when an odd sound rose in the lull of the tide. You tore out your cheap earbuds and strained to listen.
The sound that followed defied explanation. Youâd never heard anything close to it. The only comparative experience you could draw from was mourning. A harsh, desperate cry, from something that was quite literally on its last hope.
The next thing you knew, your hands were plunging into damp tangles of rope. You cursed as it slid from your hands, as you first tried to wrench it apart, and then upwardsâ but of course, its moorings were stuck fast. It vaguely occurred that you had absolutely no idea what you were attempting to unearth, but the thought was quickly forgotten. Whatever this was, you could hear breathing from within the massâ shaky, ragged, and quick. You didnât have much time.
And so, you turned instead to the edges themselves. You plunged your hands into the wet sand and dug as fast as you could. Fortunately, the fasteners werenât buried too deeply. It didnât take long for you to pry one up, and then another, the raspy catch of breathing serving as an inefficient and rapidly-dwindling timer. Your fingers burned. Your arms ached. And yet, you continued to tear at the bindings, tugging at the base of the netting until you could finally start to pry up a corner.
Youâa heard of hysterical strength before, but youâd never truly acknowledged the sensation until the soaked, dripping netting was held high above your head. Very quickly, those considerations vanished entirely at the sight of the form underneath.
A pair of bright dichromatic eyes blinked at you through the gloom. The moment would be almost ethereal, if their owner wasnât literally heaving for breath, both arms stuck akimbo in the holes of the netting. You gave voice to the only thought that actually made sense in this situation.
ââŚWhat the hellâŚ?â
Your arms burned from the sopping weight of the net. Water and damp pieces of seaweed were falling on the both of you. With a grunt of effort, you finally stepped forward and chucked the excess portion backwards, before you immediately knelt to loosen the remaining bindings.
The manâ not human, not fully, your brain warnedâ almost immediately began to thrash, displacing a spray of water between you as the tide came in. You bit back a yelp, but repressed the urge to flinch, caught up by the look on his face.
Whatever he was or wasnât, you knew he was afraid.
You couldnât be sure if he would understand, as you raised your hands, palms out. Was there really such a thing as a universal sight of surrender? Although your next movement forward earned a flash of sharp teeth, he didnât move against you. With that, your hands returned to the net, and you set to work untangling it from his body.
You stared down at your hands as you worked, pulse thrumming in your ears. Outside of them, you couldnât feel anything, outside the numbing sting of adrenaline. Because of that, your motor control was tenuous at bestâ all you could do was continue working at the net. Heart in your mouth, you snuck another glance up, to confirm your suspicions. Sharp teeth. Bright eyes. Fins, twitching and alert, where ears would be.
If anyone else happened upon your rescue of a beached merman, you would be in very serious trouble.
You re-doubled your efforts, trying to get him loose, wishing that youâd somehow had the foresight to grab something sharpâ
âoh, wait.
âOw-ow-ow-ow-owâ!â
One painstaking pick-over of the oyster graveyard later and you had yourself a prime specimen. Youâd exchanged a fair bit of blood to the sand, but that was neither here nor there. You half-ran, half-limped back to the fallen net, makeshift tool held high and set to work, ignoring the latest attempt to swipe at you. This particular shell had sliced open the ball of your foot, so, soon enough, it had started a tear into the tangled net.
The merman didnât seem to appreciate your ingenuity. Youâd barely gotten his right arm free before he was using it to grab onto yours, tugging you forwards as his other, bound arm tried to gesture to his throat.
âWaitâ!â you panicked at the strength of his grip, âIâm getting your other arm out, just breatheâ!â
A feeling like ice water ran down your spine.
ââŚ.CanâtâŚâ
âYou caâ?â youâd barely gotten through the repetition before you saw the small slits in his throat, gaping and closing frantically.
You had no idea how long the mer had been breathing above-water, but those rattling wheezes sounded like he was reaching his limit.
âOh, shitâ hold on!â
You cut through the last binding of his left arm and began to feverishly hack away at the snarled mass behind him. It wasnât long before the shimmer of scales became apparent through the remaining bindings. You couldnât think much about the full magnitude of what all you had uncoveredâ how could he speak? â because the merman in question could barely breathe at all. The small gasps of air he managed to draw seemed more like hiccups.
With no time to spare, you dragged whatever remained of the net backwards, wincing as a massive number of koi-like scales were caught and sloughed off in your haste. Supposedly the merman would sooner be alive than care about the finer details of his appearance.
The net had barely dropped before his powerful tail slammed down into the surface of the wet sandâ sending fragments of it splashing back over you. You took a few steps back as the mermanâ tail uselessly trying to propel him forwardsâ was forced to use an approximation of an army-crawl to get towards the shallows.
Without the snarled ropes in the way, you only saw the injuries left behind. A multitude of bruising and deep scratches marred his back, some still sluggishly-bleeding. There was a long gouge of scales missing on his left flank, revealing the smooth muscle of his tail which seemed to share the unique dichromatic coloring of the rest of him. A few pairs of dorsal fins twitched valiantly as he tried to propel himself forwards.
Finally, the merman made it to the sea. It was easier going from there, especially after heâd managed to fully submerge his head and neck underwater. He stayed for a long moment, doubtlessly drinking in the relief of oxygen that he could fully process. But no mer would ever want to stay this close to Baralouâs shore. As he sank into the shallows, you expected him to tear off, instantly.
Instead, he broke the surface again, split hair tumbling over his broad shoulders, before another of those indecipherable sounds carried itself over the shush of the incoming tide, back to you. This one sounded like a challenge. Heâd fought his way through whatever hell had gotten him trapped in that netting, suffered through a slow asphyxiation and crawled himself back to the sea. Heâd very nearly been killed. But now, he seemed to dare the land and anyone living there to try it, again.
Caught in the early-morning rays, he was the most breathtaking creature you had ever seen.
In spite of the sentiments, the posted warnings, and the mermanâs borderline war-cry, you made your way back down the sand and into the shallows. The merman had vanished far into the deeper waters by then. You doubted heâd return for such a silly reason. And yetâŚ.
A few small tide-pools were receding beneath the tangles of net youâd torn away. You knelt and began to dig through their broken coils, to extract as many of the curved, glimmering scales as you could. They were ivory, with splashes of wine red, each one with its own unique pattern. Perhaps, like snakeskin, a merâs scales were destined to be shed. Still, you felt like they had to serve some purpose.
Once youâd gathered up as many as you could carry, you made your way down the shore, following the shallow trench that his tail had left. You went along it, into the sea, out until it lapped up over your kneecaps, where the merman had first shoved his face underwater, and then you went a bit further, just for good measure. It would be nothing but bad news to have these wash back up, after all.
There, you lowered your hands, and let the scales slip through, to the ocean floor. Even if the merman didnât come back, perhaps the currents would be kind enough to return at least some of them back where they belonged. With one final glance outwards, you took your leave, walking determinedly towards the shore, even as the oceanâs receding current pulled enticingly, trying to lure you to follow, into its depths.
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The Violet Thread of Fate Part Three:
The Scribe's Guild and the Acolyte Errant
Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four || Part Five || Part Six || Part Seven || Part Eight || Join Taglist
Pairing || Elinna Inklynn (Half-drow tav) and Gale Dekarios
Length || 5,400 Words
Scenario || In an alternative timeline for the events of BG3 Elinna Inklynn, an orphan from the Moonshae Islands seeks out the tutelage of accomplished wizard Gale Dekarios of Waterdeep. She has a knack with the Weave, but no money or connections to actually learn how to harness it. She has heard the wizard is a gentleman and a schollar, and hopes she can appeal to him to take her on as his apprentice in exchange for her help around his tower, with his research, and in running errands in Waterdeep. Unfortunately for her, Gale Dekarios does not take on apprentices.
Warnings || Age gap (Perhaps about 10ish years), depiction of depression and heart ache, description of very, very mild body horror. Description of scarring from corporal punishment. Slightly mature themes.
A/n || In the interest of full disclosure: I didn't edit this one. I was too eager to get it out, so please forgive any strange pacing or verbiage. I may edit it tomorrow or sometime soon, but I also primarily write this for fun so I may also not. I actually really enjoyed writing Gale softening up to Elinna a bit, and Elinna sort of losing some of her rose tinted vision for Gale. Perhaps soon they will meet somewhere in the middle. :))
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The Scribeâs Guild
Elinna cupped her hands above her eyes, trying to reduce the urge to squint as she looked out over the edge of one of the craggy cliffside peaks.Â
âAre you certain youâre alright up there?â Gale asked from the ground. âNot to be a pain, but you havenât had the greatest track record with heights as of late.â
âI climbed up hereâas long as I donât try to magic my way down, I should be fine,â she called back. âIâm trying to figure out where we are.â
âAny luck?â he called back.Â
âYouâre distracting me!â she said.Â
âAre you one of those people who can only do one mental process at a time?â he asked. âDo you go blind when your ears are in use?â
âIâm one of those people who needs to think to recall the details of all the maps Iâve cataloged at the Nest,â she griped looking down at him. âNow be quiet so I can think.â
She saw him lift a hand and rub the back of his neck before he turned around and sat down to have a pout. She rolled her eyes looking out over the coastline again, trying to cross reference what she could see from her view with the overhead details of maps sheâd looked at before.
Gale Dekarios was certainly aâŚstrange archmage.Â
Reading transcripts of conversations, reading his treatisesâsheâd always pictured this stately, almost dry sort of fellow. Someone who would sniff before correcting her about somethingâor stand perpetually with his nose pointed at the ceiling so you always knew he was looking down at you past it.Â
But he was justâŚwellâa sort of awkward, somewhat humorous man.Â
Theyâd been wandering for some timeâGale had a good sense for what was north, south, east and west, but there was only so much that one could do when unaware of where the starting point was.
The shame of things was that they were in some random locale with very few cities about. Sheâd learned much about Baldurâs Gate, Amn, Waterdeepâplaces she wished to visit. If there was Galeâs tower nearbyâor perhaps Sorcerous Sundriesâshe could have been able to pluck it out of the landscape with ease.Â
Instead, as she looked out off the cliff, she only saw shoreline give way to worn out cobbled roads. Some sort of village obscured the haze of distance andâŚwell nothing familiar. She pursed her lips before chewing slightly on the bottom one; a nervous habit that often left her with metallic-tasting patches on the inside of her lip.Â
âWell?â Gale said a bit impatiently.Â
She was just about to give him the bad newsâthat she found nothing of note and had no idea which way to goâwhen a shadow darkened the ground from somewhere overhead. She looked up to find a black blot against the light blue of the skyâa dire raven with a wingspan of about 10 feet, armored in the colors of a the Scribeâs Guild; pale tan leathers, brass metal and mist green canvas.Â
She found herself smiling despite the fact that sheâd told herself sheâd never look at a Scribeâs Guild after leaving The Nest. She watched for a while longer as the large avian swooped through the sky and then landed on the parapet of a distant stone structure.Â
âWeâre in luck!â she called down to Gale.
âAre we?â he asked. âYou didnât happen to have found a cleric of legendary skill up there did you?â
âNot that much luck,â she said as she started to climb down the rocky face of the cliff.
âAre you sure you ought to be doing that?â he asked. âIt seems awfully dangerous.â
âAs we just covered, Iâll be fine so long as I donât use magic,â she responded. âIâm used to climbs.â
Looking down to find her perch, she carefully lighted her foot on the boulder where she started her climb, and turned to find Gale waiting for her, a single hand offered up to her to assist her down from the small height.Â
âYou donât have to do that,â she said. âItâs not that high up.â
âBest not to risk it,â he said. âThe twist of an ankle could mean the difference between humanity and ceremorphosis, considering our plight.â
Elinna nibbled on her lower lip and nodded, placing her hand in his. His calloused fingers closed around her hand and he lifted his other hand to grasp her waist. She stepped off the stone and he supported her weight easily, lowering her to the ground smoothly.Â
âSo,â he said, not taking his hands away yet. âYouâve kept me in suspense, Elinna. Why are we in luck?â
âI just saw a Dire Raven,â she said. âOne of the ones we use to transport records between different chapters of the Scribeâs Guild.â
âThe what?â he asked.Â
âThe Scribeâs guild,â she said. âI told you, I was their ward in the Moonshae Islands.â
âDid you?â he asked.Â
She sighed and gave him a disappointed look. âYou really didnât listen to me at all back in Waterdeep.â
His hand twitched on her waist as his brow furrowed. âWell thatâs hardly fair,â he said. âYou were a stranger standing right outside of my home. Why should I have?â
âCourtesy,â she said sourly as she turned away from him and started to walk down the pathway in the direction she watched the dire raven fly.Â
She tried to ignore the tingling feeling in the tips of her fingers as her hand left his; the feeling of absence at her waist as she lost the weight of his hand.Â
âOh, come nowââ he said, his face screwing with offense and hurrying after her. âDonât imply that I was being discourteous when you were the one showing up at a strange manâs home unannounced!â
âItâs not as if I let myself in!â she said back.Â
âWait, you still havenât told me what the Scribeâs Guild is,â he said, finally catching up to her.
âI assumed you would know what it is,â she said looking sidelong and up at him.
âI confess Iâve not heard of it,â he said.Â
She sighed and looked ahead. Maybe she didnât want to tell him if he didnât already know, she thought. She wasnât sure she was ready to reveal just how sheltered her life was before heading to Waterdeep.Â
But they were now headed for the local archive and he was going to find out either way soâŚ
âThe scribeâs guild is a redundancy,â she said. âItâs one of the realmâs most extensive collections of information. If youâre looking for a book, a scroll, a record of some obscure property dispute⌠you can find it there. I was raised in one.â
âSo, youâre a scribe?â he asked her. âYou write booksâcollect this information and dole it out to those who need it?â
She pursed her lips. âI wasnât a scribe myself,â she said. âI was a clerk.â
âSo you were in training,â he said. âAssisting the scribes so that you could take on the task.â
She felt her skin pinken with warmth, afraid to disclose the truthâafraid of what it would look like. âNot quite,â she said. âThe ArchLibrarian thought I wasnât suited to the work.â
âWhy not?â he asked.Â
âBecause I was too fun,â she said, her walls going up a little higher. âIf you must know.â
âMy,â he said. âDid I hit a nerve?â
âIt seems like youâre looking for reasons to think poorly of me,â she said.Â
âIt seems like youâre hiding reasons to think poorly of you,â he said. âSo, what was it? Sleeping on the job? Theft? Did you try to cast a cantrip and Did you come looking for me because they turned you out and cut you off?â
âGods,â she said looking up at him, a little line forming between her brows and her face getting even warmer with embarrassment. âYou really do think Iâm a wastrel, donât you?â
âNo I donât!â he said.Â
âWhat happened to you being worried about seeming an ill-mannered man?â she asked.
âElinnaâyouâre youngâyouth is made for mistakes. You think I was always an upstanding young man while in attendance at Blackstaff?â he said. âI slept through most of my Calashite lessons.â
âDonât lie to me to try and get dirt on me,â Elinna said as she walked faster.. âDonât mock me like that.â
âElinnaâElinna, would you slow down?â he said.Â
âNo. I want to get to the Scribeâs Guild.â
âWe will get there with plenty enough time before sundown,â he said, grabbing her arm. âElinna, stop.â
She stopped but didnât look up at him, she couldnât make herself do it. She didnât know what was more embarrassing for her; the fact that sheâd hardly seen any of the world, the fact that her guardians felt she was inept and flighty, or the fact that she was quite acting like a petulant child with Gale when she only wished to prove to him that she could be a good student.Â
Maybe seeking him out had been a mistake from the start. Sheâd spent so long reading about Gale and his workâlearning about his unique understanding of magicâreading his writingsâŚin some ways sheâd convinced herself that he was already a friend.Â
Sheâd never thought about how trying to become his apprentice also meant sharing her qualifications and the more time she spent talking to him the more she realized she had none.Â
She could feel him looking at her almost indulgentlyâlike a man speaking to a child.Â
She didn;t know why she hated that most of all.Â
âElinna, forgive me for prying,â he said. âI was just trying to get to know you a little better. From what I can tell there is a significant distance between here and Waterdeep and it will be a much more pleasant journey if we get to know one another a little bit as we travel, donât you think?â
Elinna smoothed her amber hair away from her brow, cupping her hand on her forehead as if checking herself for fever.Â
âIâm sorry,â she said, finally. . âI think Iâm just tired.â
âI can only imagineâŚwhat with going from the islands, to Waterdeep so climbing up cliff sides and now we have to walk even further? We can swap notes later,â he said with a gentle smile. âLetâs focus on getting to this placeâmaybe they can put us up for an evening or at least point us in the direction of the nearest town.â
Elinna nodded before heaving a great sigh.Â
âIt shouldnât be long,â she said. âMaybe just a few hours of walking from here.â
âExcellent,â he said. âLead on.â
The Acolyte Errant
Elinna was a curious girl.Â
She was somehow equal measures breezy and intense; lackadaisical and earnest. He didnât know what to make of the dichotomy. He knew even less what to do with the strange secrecy she had about her former home.Â
Perhaps it was a bit of paranoiaâafter all, he had his own secrets he was keeping. It was perhaps more than a little hypocritical of him to fault her for hers.Â
âSo, tell me more about The Scribeâs Nest,â he said, trying to change the subject to something more informative and a little less personal.
âSpecifically The Nest? Or the guild in general?â she asked.Â
âMmâŚif itâs not too personal for you, The Nest. You said thatâs where you grew up right?â he said.Â
She nodded, wiping sweat off her brow. The day was beginning to get hot, so he had to think they were further down south than Waterdeep and the islands. It was much cooler this time of yearâhence the layers both he and Elinna wore.Â
âUhmâThe Nest in Moonshae is in an old abandoned temple to Ilmater,â she told him. âMy mother left me there thinking that it was a safe place for me to grow upâthinking Iâd be cared for by clerics. But The Nest was already there.â
âI see,â Gale said, feeling for the girl but trying not to let it come through in his tone. âI suppose they took you in anyway?â
She nodded again. âThey did,â she said. âStill not sure why, if Iâm honestâthey have a few oaths they had to make in exchange for financial support. Even so, there were other temples in the area that probably could have taken me in. But uhâanyway. The way that the scribes work is they receive funds from the local government and they use those funds to pay a fleet of scouts to get word back to us about the goings on in the world. The scribes record it, make copies of each account and send them to the other branches.â
âHells,â he said. âThat sounds like quite the expensive endeavor.â
âIt isâand the scribes outsource the work so that thereâs no conflict of interest. No scribes out wandering the world trying to spin tales. They have a motto: âWe Are The Accuracy In The Indulgent The Composed in the Chaotic.ââ She said. âIn other words, they try to record everything as plainly and as closely to the facts as possible. In addition to that, they try to have copies of every written work ever produced.â
âHow can that even be quantified or verified for that matter?â Gale asked.Â
âLike I saidâthey try,â she said. âItâs all very tedious if you ask me.â
âIâm shocked I havenât heard of this placeâit sounds like a veritable treasure trove of knowledge,â he said.Â
âThe scribes donât open the vaults to many,â she said. âThey consider their work one of posterity; a record of history, not a resource to be plumbed. They donât even really indulge in reading the records themselves.â
âThat soundsâŚ.extraordinarily wasteful,â He said.Â
He saw Elinna finally crack a smile at that. âI couldnât agree more,â she said. âWasteful, boring, depressing.â
He was itching to ask her if that was why sheâd left what sheâd had as a home forâŚwell however long sheâd been alive. She looked remarkably young, but with half-elves that hardly meant much. For all he knew she was his age.Â
âElinna, do you mind if I ask how old you are?â he asked.Â
She looked up at him, her brow quirking. âUhmâIâve had twenty-eight summers so far,â she said. âWhy do you ask?â
Ahâaround ten years younger than he was. No wonder she seemed so restless when sheâd come to find him at his tower. Most Wizards were well into their studies at Blackstaff by now, or at least had some reasonable amount of aptitude with the weave. âJust curious,â he said shrugging. âYou look young but youâre also not complaining, or panicking, or wellâother things I would expect a young person to be doing in this situation.â
He wasnât sure if he was reading it correctly, but he could have sworn that she pressed her lips a bit to avoid smiling. Was the poor girl such a stranger to praise that the simple pointing out of her maturity could make her have to stop a flustered smile from forming on her lips?â
âI guess I just feel like anything is preferable to being stuck in that dusty old tower,â she said.Â
There was a sort ofâŚsadness to her words. A quality he recognized first hand.Â
Not sadness, he realized as he saw one of his own feelings mirrored back at him. Regret.Â
But that was not a subject he wished to bring upânot when the questions could so easily be turned back onto him.
âWell, Elinna,â he said, changing the subject. âYou have Gale of Waterdeep with youâIâm a captive audience as we walk to the guild hall. Anything I can impress you with?âÂ
It was an olive branch, of sorts. It, of course, wasnât the first time heâd met some hopeful magician who wanted to pick his brain. Usually he politely shooed them away, but he figured that extending the offer might cheer her up.
âIâm quite well read on the subject,â she answered.Â
WaitâŚhad he missed the question while he was patting himself on the back for being open to bragging? âSorryâwhich subject is that?â he asked.
Her face flushed and she gave him a furtive look with those pretty green eyes. She cleared her throat and pushed some hair behind her ear.Â
âUhmâyouââ she said finally. âIâve read everything the archive has that even has a tangential mention of your name in it.â
He blinked, feeling glad for the fact that she was looking most pointedly away from him. âAh,â he said, trying to master his tone. âWellâshould we crosscheck the scribeâs records? Tell me what you know and I can correct anything thatâs wrong.â
âWeâll be here for hours if I do thatâŚâ she mumbled under her breath.Â
Now it was his turn to flushâuntil he realizedâ
âWait, I thought you said that the scribes donât read the recordsââ he said.Â
âI did,â she said, looking over at him with a sheepish little smile. âThatâs why they said Iâm not suited for the work. Itâs why they keep me on shelving duty.â
Ahâthat was what she meant when she said she was used to climbing.
Suddenly there was an uncomfortable pressure in his skull as he saw flashes of giant stacks of dusty tomes, heard the squeaking of a half-broken wheel on a cart, felt rawness on his fingertips from shelving books and records; the deep ache of tired muscles.
When he was able to focus again, Elinna was crouched a few feet ahead, her gloved hands pressing on the sides of her head.Â
âW-was that a memory?â Gale asked. âDid you just send me a memory?â
âNo,â she said weakly. âGodsâŚthat wasâŚI could feel you in my headââ
âI didnâtâit wasnât something I did on purpose,â he said frantically.Â
He felt as embarrassed as a young man might be during his first time with a lover. Itâd been years since heâd accidentally used his magic. Not since he was an adolescent.Â
âI think itâs the parasite,â she said. âMindflayers are part of a hive mindâmaybe itâs the start of that tether forming to it.â
âIâm loath to face that possibility, but you may be right,â Gale said grimly as he walked over to her and offered a hand. âYou alright?â
âJust exhausted, I think,â she said as she took his hand. âIt felt like the parasite was pulling at the seams of my mind, extracting those images like thread through the eye of a needle.â
âAptly put,â he said, finally helping her up.Â
âLetâs just hurry to the guild,â she said.Â
It was a bit of a grueling trek after that. The pathway mostly uphill and on rocky, uneven pathways. Wherever this guild branch was, it was clear enough to him that the scribes had no interest in being bothered or visited. He wasnât so worried about himself, thoughâif anything, he was worried about Elinna.Â
Thinking about itâsheâd originally mentioned that she was looking for a place to live when he met her and sheâd asked him to take her on as a student. He wondered when the last time sheâd slept was. It wasnât uncommon for passengers unused to traveling by ship to sleep poorly on them. The voyage between the Moonshae Islands and Waterdeep was probably close to a tenday, give or take a day or two.Â
He felt a little guilty, now, that he had let her climb up the cliffside to help them get their bearings; that he couldnât be of more assistance with some kind of charm or boon.Â
As predicted, it took them about another two hours to make it to the base of a decaying old castle. He didnât recognize it, and from what he could tell there were no real markings on it to distinguish what lineage or people it could have belonged to at one point.Â
He looked up as another dire ravenâor perhaps the same one he hadnât seen beforeâtook flight from one of the crumbling parapets, then he looked over at Elinna.Â
She was still damp with sweat, but her exerted flush had given way to an almost sickly sort of pallor. He worried for a moment that she may already be starting the process of ceremorphosisâbut if that was the case, why hadnât the same happened to him?Â
âFucking stairs,â she groaned as she bent over and braced her hands on her knees. âI think I may need to sit for just a moment.â
Gale looked at the stairs and then back at her. He quirked his lips slightly, weighing the number of stairs against the health of his knees.Â
âI know once you sit it will be all the more difficult for you to get up and get going,â he said. âLet me carry you the rest of the way.â
She balked at him, her verdant eyes wide and a bit of her flush returning to her freckled cheeks. He tried not to think about how charming the look of surprise was. âY-you canât,â she said. âIâm filthyâand drenched besides. And Iâll be too heavy.â
âNonsense,â he insisted. âYou hardly come up to my shoulderâand itâs not as if Iâm a fine example of cleanliness at the moment. You can tell me proper decorum as we make our way up.â
âGaleââ
âI wonât take no for an answer,â he said with a little teasing glimmer in his eyes.Â
He kneeled in front of her, back toward her, and patted his shoulder. âClimb on,â he said.Â
There was nothing for a moment and he almost looked back to see if she was going to stubbornly refuse. But just as he was going to, he felt tentative fingertips on his right shoulder; then his left. She smoothed her hand toward the front of him, drawing a tingling line along his collarbones. He tried not to flinch as her hands joined right over the spot the orb burned in his chest, but he couldnât stop it.Â
She froze and almost started withdrawing. He reached up and closed a single hand over both of hers.Â
âDid I hurt you?â she asked him.
âNot at all,â he said. âRememberâIâve been a recluse for some time. Just forgot what it felt like to be touched by someone who isnât a tressym.â
There was one more moment of hesitation and then finally, Elinna put her weight onto him, hitching her legs above his hips.Â
âAlright,â he said. âGoing up.â
He scooped his hands under her knees and rose to his feet.Â
Truth be told, she was a touch heavier than heâd expected. And he realized with a bit of rueful interest that her body was a littleâŚsofterâŚthan heâd anticipated. Even through her layers of canvas and leather, he could feel the supple swell of her thighs, her hips, her breastsâŚ
He shook his head and cleared his throat as he started to climb the stairs.Â
âSo, whatâs our story?â he asked.Â
âMmnâstory?â she breathed against his ear.Â
Gods, she sounded like a freshly roused lover in the morning.Â
âYouâre not falling asleep back there, are you?â he asked.Â
âTrying not to,â she said. âIâm sorry.â
âKeep talking to me,â he said. âIt will help you stay awake.â
And give me something to stop my mind from drifting to what might be beneath your clothes. He thought with no shortage of disgust in himself.Â
âMmhâvisitors are prohibited, usually,â she said, her sleepy slurring sending a chill up his spine. âSince youâre carrying me inâŚmaybe tell them you found me unconscious on the ground. They can refuse scholars, but they have an oath to help the needy. HenceâŚmeâŚâ
âThe lady deceives,â Gale teased. âI thought you were above such dishonesty.â
She gave a quiet chuckle. âIf the guild needs a bit of encouragement to do what is right, who am I to deny it?â Then after a moment. âThank youâŚfor carrying me. You didnât have to do that.â
âItâs no bother,â he said.Â
And it really wasnât, aside from his own traitorous thoughts about her. His knees werenât even tired when he reached the top of the stairs. He looked back at her sidelong. âHang onto me will youâafraid Iâll need one of these hands.â
He regretted asking her to do that immediately. Her thighs squeezed a little tighter around his middle and he suddenly wished for death. He opened the door as quickly as he could, and went back to holding her knee.Â
Inside there wasâŚno one to be found. At least not at first.Â
Then came the sound of soft soles scuffing on stone stairs. He gazed to the right, seeing a shadow elongate as it grew further and further away from some torch or sconce further up on the stairs.Â
A moment later, a wizened man peered at him through small spectacles on a crooked nose.Â
He was dressed somewhat like Elinna, though the embroidery and fastenings on his clothes were finer. On his lapel, he wore a golden dire raven pin with a quill snatched in itâs beak.The pin was connected to a chain from which dangled a single golden key.Â
âYouâve reached The Scribeâs Perch,â he said, his voice quiet and willowy, like it had frayed through years of neglect. âI fear weâre not taking visitors.â
In front of Galeâs chest, Elinnaâs arms went slack and her body went a little heavier. Her head rested fully on his shoulder, her sleeping breaths gusting warmly on the back of his neck. He supposed it worked better for the tale he had to weaveâthough he did worry for the poor girl.Â
âIâve found one of your acolytes on the path some way away from here. She seems feverishâlikely hungry and dehydrated. Sheâs gone in and out of consciousness but told me to find you here and ask for you help. Help for both of us.â
The old man merely tilted to get a look at Elinna with a somewhat disinterested expression. âMnhâŚthere are protocols in place for this, yes,â he said. âAn inconvenience to say the least, though. We will have to make arrangements for your supper.â
Gale felt his ire flare and found himself understanding why Elinna seemed so sour about where sheâd been reared. It was a wonder she made it out of childhood with her curiosity and her tenacity intact.Â
âIf itâs too much of a bother, I can see to producing a meal for us,â he said, trying his best to master his tone.Â
âNo, no,â the man said. âThe smellsâthe oilsâthey could upset the balance and focus of the archives. ComeâI will see you to a lodging for the night. I am afraid I must ask you to stay there and to not wander our halls freely. And you must leave come morning.â
âI thought you had an oath to help the needy,â Gale said.Â
âThe qualifying criteria which defines who or what is needy is not agreed upon,â he said. âThe girl is unconscious, but you stand and walk freely. Surely she is hardly needy if she has you.â
âSheâs one of your acolytes,â Gale said. âSurely you canât be so callous.â
âSheâs not an acolyte from The Perch. We do not allow women among our ranksâtheir scents and scintillations bring focus away from posterity. I allow you to stay only because she still wears our colors and because weâve received no missive about a disgraced acolyte,â he said. âBut there has been a great collision on the shoreline and we work tirelessly to record it.â
âWell youâre in luckâweâre survivors from that crashâwe can help youââ
âNo. We only accept the accounts of verified scouts,â he said. âNow comeâIâve wasted precious time already. My quill will have started to dry out.â
Gale bit his tongue and simply noddedâworried that if the man showed is rudeness and disinterest again he would snap at the Scribe and lose them a night of rest and the chance to bathe and change.Â
Their ungracious host led them up the stairs, past a massive steel door singing with wards, and to a doorway about as tall as Elinna. The Scribe opened the lock with his tiny golden keyâa skeleton key it seemedâand gestured him inside.Â
Gale bent a bit at the knees, careful to mind Elinnaâs head as he ducked into the room.Â
âThank you,â he said.Â
âSupper is at seven bells. Porridge, roasted carrots and river fishâyou will have to come retrieve it yourselfâthe kitchens are down the stairs we traveled up and through the small northern wooden door,â their host said.Â
And with that, the man simply closed the door and left Gale alone with Elinna.Â
Gale looked about the room.Â
It was small, about the size of the larder in his tower, and barren. In one corner, a threadbare sheet hung to offer pock-marked privacy should one bathe in the water-swollen, wooden tub there. There was a single desk with a nearly-spent candle perched slantingly in a chamberstick made of brass. Against the far wall stood the bedâ
The Bed.Â
Singular.Â
Only one bed.Â
Oh hells, it would be a very long night indeed.Â
He carried Elinna over to the bed and carefully cradled her against his back as he pulled back the mildew-smelling covers. Beneath was an old hay mattress. He felt loath to place her on it, but he hadnât enough energy to conjure something more comfortable for her.Â
He supposed it didnât matter for tonightâthe poor girl just needed some sleep.Â
He carefully placed her in the bed and hesitated, pondering.
Sheâd spent so much time during their travels complaining of the feeling of viscera in her clothes; her shoes. He could only imagine how terrible it would feel for her to wake up, warm and damp from feverish sleep, only to still feel soggy boots and garments on your body.Â
It wasnât proper. He wasnât even sure it would be welcome. But it was a gesture toward her comfort he could actually provide.Â
He carefully slipped off her boots, setting them off to the side in a blood-soaked heap. Then he removed her leather gloves, and finally, the waistcoat she wore.Â
Beneath her green canvas, she wore a simple muslin dress that fell just slightly off the shoulders. He noted with a bit of curious mirth, that she had a smattering of freckles across the bare skin of her decolletage and arms as well. He wondered how many times sheâd had to sneak away from her duties to get those.Â
Then he saw something else.Â
On the inside of one delicate wrist, he spotted the hint of a violet patch of skin. In a brief panic he turned her arm over to get a better view of it, worried that her transformation may be starting, after all.Â
Instead, what he found was scarring. Violet scars forming a ladder of tidy caning marks on the tender skin of the inside of her arm.Â
âNo wonder you wanted to get out,â he said under his breath as he brushed his thumb against the marks. They were only barely raised. Theyâd been there a long time then. For some reason it hurt his heart to think of a smaller, squeakier Elinna as her caretakers tried and clearly failed to tame the wonder out of her.Â
Perhaps it was because he had also been punished severely for his ambition and thirst for knowledge, but he could no longer bear to see her in the greens, tans and creams of The Scribeâs Guild. Not when there was so much sheâd had to fight to keep hold of.Â
He thought he could maybe find a pocket somewhere. If he rested he ought to be able to, anyway. Or if not, he could try to look around the grounds and scrounge something up for each of them to change into. And maybe a few supplies for setting up camp, too, since they wouldnât be granted time to catch their bearings at The Perch.Â
He pulled the worn blanket up enough to cover her arms, but not so high that the smell of mildew could wake her.Â
He walked over to the tiny door and looked back over his shoulder one more time to make sure she was still quite asleep.Â
And then he slipped out of their sorry room to find a place to restore himself.Â
#bg3#historical fantasy#romantasy#authors#writeblr#my writing#violet thread of fate#bg3 fic#fic recs#bg3 fic recs#gale /tav#gale x tav#gale bg3#gale dekarios#bg3 au#bg3 headcanons
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The Sisters Graeae (#4 in my "Quest firnthe Gorgon Head" series)
  As Perseus was the son of Zeus, the gods heard his prayers. Athena answered, offering strategic information on the only ones who knew the locations of the The Gorgon sisters, were in fact, another set of three sisters; the sisters Graeae. These are three gray haired old hags with swan like bodies, who share but one eye and tooth between them. Hermes, God of travelers and ally to mortals, also offered his guidance to the distant realm. After many weeks of difficult trekking, Perseus found himself on the island of Cisthene, in the craggy land of the sisters Graeae. Sneaking upon the women, he waited until they passed their one eye between them, snatching it away, and threatening to heave it into the sea. The Graeae gave in, revealing the location of the Gorgon sisters. But it would be no easy task. The gorgon sisters had golden wings, bronze hands, snakes for hair, and worst of all, their gazes turned men to stone. Perseus would need sacred weapons for such a mission. And, according to Athena, there was only one group who could provide them: the sea nymphs.
  With the 3 sisters we can see the first of many examples of the âtriple goddessâ archetype in Old world mythology. Some are represented with one body and three forms (triple bodied Hekate) while most are three individuals. (i.e. âThe Moraiâ (fates), âthe Horaiâ (seasons) âThe Furies,â âThe Hesperides,â(graces) and âthe Gorgons.â) We can see other examples from other ancient cultures, like the Norse âNornsâ or the Christian holy trinity of the father, son, and holy spirit. Even Shakespeare, a student of Greek myth and poetry, chose three witches to prophecy to Macbeth.
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KNOWLEDGE
All of the wards in the City of Secrets were screaming. From the inland rampart to the seaward piers, from the high pinnacle of the Cinis Mai to the street-level ward-stones they rang out intruder, attacker, invasion!
The elderpriest rushed through the corridors of the ziggurat, breathless and bleary-eyed with sleep. Down the polished passages and up the crisscrossing stairs, out into the Throne Chamber he ran. The vast space echoed with the alarms as he crossed to the east door and threw it open, looked out:Â
From the top of the three-sided ziggurat he could see all the inland portion of the city, all the way to the walls and the mountain waste beyond. The smoke of Valmai could just be seen in the far, far distance, a small smudge against the morning sky.
There was no army encamped there. The walls stood strong. The city was dark and silent. Still the wards rang in his ears.Â
From the east door to the southwest he ran. Still nothing. The streets were quiet below, still shrouded in sleep. Soon, the sky would be alight, and the City of Secrets would grind itself into wakefulness, but not yet. Still the wards clamored on.
Finally, to the northwest he ran and threw open the last door. That was when he realized that it was not morning. Below, the waters of the Halkatarax rivered their way through the city, into the bay and its great harbor, and then out to the open sea.
But there was no more sea, and no more harbor. Where the harbor-mouth had once been, there was now a mass of land blocking passage to the ocean. A pitted, craggy island.
Behind the island, a dark bar of shadow lay along the horizon, and a fog of darkness rose up to cover the sky above. It was not morning. It was perhaps midday, but the city lay in deep gloom, a gloom that was not darkness alone. There was something in the darkness, something that breathed silence and sleep. He could feel it, and so could the wards in the stones of the city. They did not sleep, of course. They were awake, awake and shrieking to warn him.
Another ping ran through the veins of the ziggurat and shivered through his feet, shocking him to action. He stumbled back inside with fear rising in his throat. Disastrous. Where were the guards? Where were the harbor-wardens? Was he the only creature stirring in the city now? Where had the dark island come from, and what did it portend?
He fled to the center of the chamber and stood before the throne. It sat solid as ever, a great, squat mass of protobsidian, gilded with gold. It was said that the Mantax himself had carved it from the slopes of cursed Valmai long ago, enduring the gouts of magma that had poured forth upon him, to bring it away. The throne was the lynchpin of the ziggurat and its ward-veins, and only the Lord Mantax himself was allowed to sit upon it. But the Mantax was not hereâhe was somewhere north, taking counsel with the other Lords of Order. In his absence, only the elderpriest was allowed to touch the throne, to utilize its secrets.
The sky was growing darker outsideânot brighterâand a horrible sense of foreboding fell upon the elderpriest. Another shiver went through the ward-veins.
He touched the throne.
Disorientation, and then clarity. His perception traced through channels of stone and metal, through networks laid through the ziggurat and the earth beneath it, into the streets and the buildings, through the apertures which sensed light and sound all throughout the city. It was the City of Secrets, but no secret could be kept from he who sat the throne.
The streets were empty, he found as he shifted through the various avenues of sight. He looked into the buildings and found bodies there. Terror spasmed in him for a moment before he sensed the beating of their cores. They were asleep. Room after room, building after building, the same thing. All deep in slumber. It must be the fogâŚ
Another ping came down one of the wards to the northwest, and he raced along it to see. It was on the main thoroughfare coming up from the harbor, on the south bank of the Halcatarax. But he could see nothing.
WaitâŚthere was a noise. He focused, couldnât quite make it out. He ground his fingers into the surface of the throne, tried to increase the connection, but it was no use. He wavered for a momentâŚonly the Lord Mantax could sit the throne.Â
But Mantax was not here. He was the only one here. Surely he would be forgiven.
The elderpriest clambered up onto the great seat, felt the interweaving grooves in the arms and back of the chair. He focused again and thrilled with the deeper connection. Back along the ward-veins he flew, and looked out onto the thoroughfare once more. The sound rang out again. Metal on stone. Close by. There was a shape moving in the fog, moving away. He raced ahead, along the local ward-vein, and looked out again. The shape resolved, and it wasâ
It was slit-eyes and a bent back, topped with spines. It was a staff humming with a sleep-inducing power, amplified through the gloom. And there was another: more slit-eyes, and a staff projecting a field of silence.
It was RahkshiâŚand there were more, so many more. An army of Rahkshi creeping through the dark, all along the thoroughfare, and out into the city. They were emerging from the waters of the harbor, down from the shores of the island at the harborâs mouth.Â
That islandâŚit wasâŚHe knew the shape of that island. There were deep pits in its surface, and from the pits came even more creatures: beasts that flitted through the air and others that crawled along the ground. Rahi creatures. Creatures of the Makuta.
Invasion. His jaw clenched at the realization, and he floundered for a moment in the ward-space, seeking for the right impulses to activate. The Mantax had spoken of the possibility that the Makuta might move against the Lords of Order, but there had been no open conflict.Â
His hands skittered desperately across the grooves of the throne.Â
Where was the Lord Mantax, and where were his armies? Surely he would be here soon. He knew all secrets; surely this was no exception. He would be here soon, yes, to ambush the invading force and destroy them, like so many times before.Â
Where, whereâŚwhat was the right configuration? He struggled to remember.
ButâŚbut if that was the plan, why had the Lord Mantax not apprised him? He was the elderpriest of the ziggurat. Was he no longer trusted? He had kept so many secrets, and so faithfullyâŚÂ
Finally, the elderpriest found what he sought. Signals traveled out into the city, and things began to happen. Lightstones blazed bright along the streets, and earsplitting alarms began to clamor in the air. Many doors slammed shut, and others opened. There was a stir in some quarters, as the city's inhabitants were finally shocked into wakefulness. Awake and defend yourselves!
He could see more clearly now. He raced back to the main thoroughfare, looked out onto the street. A horrible noise of shrieking assaulted him as his perceptions emerged through the aperture, and he had to dial it back for a moment. The Rahkshi were screaming and fleeing from the lights. One of the creatures smashed its staff into the base of an obelisk and the spire toppled over, shattering its lightstone across the ground. The glowing shards repulsed the creatures even more.
He laughed at his success, watching them in disarray. He would awaken the guards and the harbor-wardens. He would lead the counterattack from here, and repulse the enemy. The Makuta thought to capture the city through sleep and silence, with their dull servants? Foolishness! Perhaps he would even capture the dark island itself, and add its secrets to his ownâ
The base of the ziggurat pinged him loudly, and his exulting stopped. Somewhere on the crisscrossing stairs outside. Had they penetrated that far into the city? He had seen no Rahkshi on the way. A chill went down his spine as he abandoned the further wards and moved to the ziggurat itself. There were guards on the ground now, shaking off sleep and brandishing weapons, and the pathetic Matoran were running here and there in terror.Â
Shouts moved through the air as he set the wards to signal out the positions of the intruders in the streets. Then he was racing up the outside of the ziggurat, seeking the invaders along the stairs, commanding the outer doors to bolt and seal, and seal again, andâ
He was seized bodily, and all his perceptions dissolved into a spinning, sickening rush as he was dragged from the throne and went sailing through the airâŚthen resolved into red pain as he smashed into the far wall of the throne chamber.
More pain as he slid down and struck the polished floor. Agony rolled through his body, and he knew that his gilded armor was broken and bent. The personal wards in his armor plates told him that his internals were damaged. It was bad.
He was face down on the floor, but he realized that he was still seeing something. His perception was limned with red, and it throbbed horribly, but he was still connected to the ward-veins somehow. He was seeing the interior of the Throne Chamber. There he was, a broken pile on the floor, and there was the throne at the center, and betweenâŚ
Between him and the throne there was a thing standing. It was made of many plates and metal shapes, joined by pistons and connecting gears. It did not move like a living thing, but more like the automatons he had seen the Fe-Matoran produce. It stalked toward his inert form, each limb moving as if by a separate, disjoint instruction. His disembodied senses felt the thing's feet blunt against the polished floor. Pain surged again, and he struggled to focus. He looked toward the throne. If he was still connected to the ward-veins, maybe he couldâ
The thing stopped suddenly and turned with surprising speed. All at once he was staring down into two bright green eyes behind a foreign mask. It was not looking at his body, but at himâat the point where his perceptions emitted through the wards. It could see him.Â
The eyes glowed painfully bright, and an unknown power obliterated the aperture, flinging him back into his own skull. He retched at the reversal of his disembodiment, coughing and struggling on the floor. His sight had returned, though still blurry. He heaved himself up on one arm. The thing had already turned back to him. It stood over him now, and he waited for it to strike...
It did not strike. Instead, the thing reached down and touched him with one of its iron fingers...and the pain vanished. The rents in his armor closed, and his internal wards signaled a lessening of damage. He wasâŚhealed.
âWhoâŚare you?â he asked breathlessly, pressing himself back against the wall, afraid, but thankful that he could breathe comfortably again.
A voice issued from behind the strange mask. It was not a living voice, but generated by mechanical means, he was sure.
âDo you not know?â the voice said.
âI do not.â It was the truth. Rahkshi and Rahi he knew, but not this mechanical thing.
âAre you not the elderpriest of the city of the Mantax, who shares in the knowledge of He Who Knows All Secrets?â
âI am.â
âAnd yet you do not know this secret.â
âIâŚIââ
The thing laughed a mechanical laugh, and the green eyes pulsed.
âWhat is your intention here," the elderpriest demanded, trying to put on a brave face, "and what is the meaning of this invasion? This affront to the Lords of Order will not stand.â
âMore secrets that you do not possess.â
The elderpriest scoffed. âI assure you, when the Mantax is returned, declarations will be sent to the Makuta, and swift war will come upon them, worse even than in the days of the Wars of Order. You may transmit this to your mastersââ
The room blurred and shifted around them, and suddenly they were back in the center of the chamber, next to the throne. He realized that he was standing up now. How� He had no time to think.
The thing touched the protobsidian of the throne with an iron finger, scratched a spark out of it.
âDo not touch it!â he cried. âOnly those ordained to possess the knowledge of Mantax mayââ
âAh, knowledge,â the voice interrupted. The green eyes flicked toward him. âIf knowledge is required, then I am certainly ordained, for I am Knowledge.â
âWhat does that mean? You still haven't told me who you are.â
âI have. Just now.â The eyes turned back to the throne. âSo this is the means by which you surveil the city,â the thing mused. âA useful tool for lesser creatures, I suppose. The Lord Mantax is dead.â
âIt is forbidden for you toââ The words registered in his mind, and he stammered. âWh-What? YouâŚyou lie!â
âHe is dead, as are the other Barraki.â
âOutrageous! What proof do you offer of this claim?â
âNo proof is necessary, except the proof of this city being taken in a few hours. The trifling forces of the Barraki are dismantling even now, across the universe. The Lords of Order are no more.â
âI know this to be false.â
The thing turned to him now, fixed him with a look that would have been inquisitive, had it been a living face.
âAnd how do you know this?â
The elderpriest hesitated, taken aback by the thing's sudden interest. âIt is aâŚa secret. Something known only to the subjects of the Lord Mantax, and to no others.â
âIf secrets are simply your own false beliefs, then you are a fool. Fools do not live long in my presence. Prove yourself.â
âI am the elderpriest. I do not need toââ
The thing stepped forward, and he remembered spinning and sickening, and red painâŚ
âProve yourself.â
âVery well,â the elderpriest cleared his throat. âI shall grant you this secret: The Obsidian Throne was made by the Lord Mantax, who put his own wards of integrity upon it, that it should remain whole as long as he was living.â He pointed to the black seat. âThe throne remains whole, its wards intact, and so the Mantax lives.â
There was a long moment of silence.
âFascinating,â the voice said. âAnd this is known amongst the people?â
âIt is. All who serve the Mantax know it and are assured by it, as I am.â
âI see.â The thing turned its gaze back to the throne. âIt is a good bit of mythmaking, Iâll give him credit. The Barraki are masters of such propaganda.â
âWhat do you mean?â The elderpriest stepped forward, indignant. âIt is no myth. It is proof that the Mantax lives, and that he shall return to expel those who occupy his city.â
âIt makes a good narrative for a resistance to hold to,â the voice mused, ignoring him. âSomething that will have to be reckoned with, sooner or later.â
âThis occupation will be short-livedââ
âItâs as good a place to start as any, I suppose.â
The thing snapped its iron fingers, and the throne shattered into rubble.
Shock. Confusion. The elderpriest looked wide-eyed at the pile of rubble as it collapsed to the floor. The ward wasâŚthe ward of integrity had been thereâŚIt had been strong. He had felt it, even to the point of shattering.
The thing turned to the elderpriest, dusting flecks of obsidian from its armor.
âNow,â it said, âdo you renounce your duty to Mantax, one of the Lords of Order, who is now dead, and do you pledge now the loyalty of your duty to the Makuta?â
âIâŚI do not renounce!â
âYou have great knowledge, elderpriest, and much sway over those beneath the ziggurat. It is in the interests of the Makuta to preserve you, if possible. So I ask again, do you renounce?â
âI c-cannot renounce, for the Mantax is not dead. You may take this knowledge to the Makuta and let them consider it.â
The thing shook its strange mask.
âAh, these are the words of a fool, for the Makuta are Knowledge.â Its eyes burned into green points â...and as I said, I am Knowledge as well.â
âI do not understand,â the elderpriest lied, shrinking backward.
âYou do understand. The age of the Lords of Order is at an end, and now is the time of the Lords of Knowledge. Once more, I ask: Will you pledge to serve us in this new age?â
The green eyes bored into him. The throne was dust and black shards, its secrets annihilated, except for the ones he now carried.
âI will serve you,â he said, his voice trembling.Â
âThen declare that the Mantax is dead.â
The throne was gone, but the wards remained. Mantax had laid down those within the ziggurat as well, he knew. They would have perished with him, surely. He could not be dead, and if he was not dead, then... someday there would be a reckoning...
âI will serve you, but I cannot declare this. The Mantax must live. I do not understand this contradiction. It is a secret that isâŚthat is kept from me. Please understand.â
âI see,â the voice said. âYour faith is admirable, elderpriest, and worthy, I suppose, of your position as the keeper of the City of Secrets.â
The thing turned away for a moment, and the creak of pistons sounded almost like a sigh. Then its limbs rotated it back, and the green eyes looked upon him again.
âI have asked a great thing of you,â it said, âand you have revealed secrets to me. For your honesty, I will share one great secret in return, before I must again tend to my task in this place. Will you accept this, as the beginning of your service to us?â
âI...I will.â
âVery well. Then look.â
The strange mask slid upward and back, and metal plates retracted with a shriek. Pistons whined as the carapace of the Makuta opened horribly, and a dark thing issued forth.
And the elderpriest saw what was inside.
It had already told him.
It was knowledge.
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Sampling The Wares (Shark Humanoid) [F/F]
Featured Characters: Female human and a female shark humanoid. Both are adults.
Description: Enid, an adventurer seeking coin, has been tasked with travelling over treacherous waters for the sole purpose of obtaining a powerful aphrodisiac from a monstrous sea witch. Audra has what she seeks, but offers the warrior a chance to test the substance before she leaves. Enid is compelled to oblige.
Contains: Aphrodisiacs, Nipple Play, Mild Nipple Growth, Mild Clit Growth, Non-Penetrative Sex, Oral, Tribbing, Degradation, Multiple Orgasms.
Completion Date: July 2nd, 2023
Word Count: 4731
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The closer Enid got to the island, the more it revealed itself to undeniably be a place of magic. The harsh, whipping winds suddenly dissipated in an instant and the turbulent waters which had threatened her small vessel calmed. The surface was like glass, revealing swirling, pale lights and wholly unique sea creatures. Anywhere that Enidâs skin was bare still stung from the cold, so the warmth that descendedâthough very humidâwas welcome.
She was there on behalf of a man and woman from a town she had been passing through. They were offering substantial coin to anyone who would brave the perpetually tumultuous bay and the individual who presided in it; a witch in alleged possession of a certain magical substance. A powerful aphrodisiac, to be precise. It was an extreme length to go to for some added intensity in the bedroom, but Enid wasnât about to turn down such a payment.
Her boat was dragged up onto the shore by an unseen force as she approached. A long, dark and slimy tendril emerged from the sand which made her reach for her sword. But it simply acted to tie the ship in place, burbling quietly as it secured itself. She released a breath and disembarked.
Before Enid was a moderately-sized, craggy rock face. A staircase with stone steps and decrepit wooden railings ran up it. It could only lead to the small islandâs only dwelling; the home of Audra. Several large insects scurried out of Enidâs way when she walked towards it and began to carefully ascend.
At the top edge of the cliff, she came to a dirt pathway leading up a fog-shrouded knoll to a modest shack a short distance away. She paused to look for any sign of the reportedly monstrous witch. Nothing. The only movement was that of a crow pecking at something on the cabinâs crooked roof. It eyed her curiously as she approached, cocking its head before returning to its repetitive business.
Enid made her way up the three creaking porch steps and to the shackâs door. Beside it was a tarnished bell hanging from a short, haphazardly-installed metal arm.
âBest not to assume I can just barge right in,â Enid thought.
She pulled the bellâs string, startling as it made a horrible squawking noise instead of a ring. Her attention snapped from it and back to the door which opened mere seconds later.
There stood a creature a couple heads shorter than Enid; humanoid in most places, shark-like in others. She had sand-coloured skin, muddy yellow eyes, and a shock of short, unkempt golden hair on her head. Many deadly-looking teeth stuck out from her lips which twitched into an insincere smile as the equally sharp gaze travelled to meet hers.
âHello, pup,â the creature said in a voice like salt water.
Enid straightened her spine. âAre you Audra?â
âI am she,â the witch said. She briefly looked Enid over, her nostrils wrinkling as she scoffed. âMore hired muscle to take out a cowardâs perceived threat?â
Her tone wasnât angry or fearful; more lightly condescending. As if she were speaking to an insect that could be easily crushed should it think large enough of itself to try and sting.
âNo,â Enid said, taking her hand away from the hilt of her blade. âIâve come to purchaseâŚsomething specific.â
Audra sniffed. âSuppose you wouldnât have bothered ringing otherwise.â
She turned back towards the inside of her home, the fin of her shark tail audibly brushing the door frame.
âCome in, then,â she said. âLetâs get you sorted.â
Enid followed, finding herself in a dimly lit room full of curios and magical implements. There was a scent in the air. It wasnât unpleasant, warm in her nose and somewhat spicy. Various ingredients were laid out on a table nearby. Assorted herbs, jars full of liquid too murky to discern the contents, and a strange purple root sitting half-chopped on a cutting board. Enid had clearly caught the witch in the middle of something; she would try and make this quick.
âNow, what might a warrior want of me?â Audra asked, leaning against the work table with her thick arms crossed over her chest; which was bare and carried two matching horizontal scars underneath where her breasts might have once been. She motioned towards the sword at Enidâs hip. âPerhaps to enchant that toothpick you carry?â
Enid gripped the scabbard protectively. âIt was left to me by my late father. I would not see it altered.â
âSuit yourself,â Audra said with a shrug of her broad shoulders. She blinked into their brief silence. âSpeak. What do you want?â
Enidâs face burned. She had not considered the embarrassment that would come from requesting the item she had come for.
âCourtesanâs Touch,â she said. Â "A jar of Courtesanâs Touch.â
A real grin found Audra then, a chuckle shaking her frame and flaring the gills on her neck.
"I havenât brought any of that to the mainland for a while,â she said thoughtfully. âYou must be desperate to come this far for it, you naughty thing.â
âItâs not for me,â Enid defended.
âYour loss,â Audra said, her yellow eyes flashing even in the low light as she walked over to a nearby cabinet. âItâs exhilarating. What your client lacks in guts to come themselves, they make up for in taste.â
Enid coughed. âItâs not my job to judge; my client or the product.â
âBut of course,â Audra said. She procured one of a collection of clay jars from the cabinet. It had a burlap cloth secured with twine covering the opening. âThough it could be.â
âWhat do you mean?â Enid asked, finding herself oddly fixated on the way Audraâs large hand cupped the round jar.
âCome now,â Audra said with a smirk. âYouâre telling me you arenât the least bit curious? To âsample the waresâ, as it were?â
She was not wrong; Enid had speculated multiple times about the substance. What was it about a simple topical ointment that could be worth her journey and pay? It had to be powerful. Images of heated bodies going wild together with pleasure under its influence rose unbidden in her mind.
âNone whatsoever,â she said, attempting to dash the lustful thoughts away and keep her pride. âThis is aâ.â
âJob, yes,â Audra interrupted. âHowever.â
The witch moved forward into Enidâs space, her voice lowering.
âIâm hard to deceive, pup. This excites you. You may lie, but my nose doesnât.â
She accompanied her words with an indiscreet glance lower on Enidâs body and then back to her face, her hairless brow raising.
âYouâŚâ Enid murmured, taking a half-step back as a further flush slammed into her.
Audra gave a harsh bark of laughter. âI was kiddingâŚbut Iâm right, arenât I?â
Enidâs lips pressed tightly together as she looked to the floor, her heart hammering and not just from embarrassment. She watched as Audra returned to the cabinet and procured a second jar that was half the size of the first.
âYour journey was long and you seem tense,â Audra said. She held out the smaller jar. âWhy not unwind?â
Enid stared at the offered item, knowing she should refuse but feeling her resolve flaking away. She hadnât even thought about sex for a while. Not before she had taken that couple up on their request. But surely, it couldnât be that easy for her to give in to such an indulgent whim.
Audra was pushing. Though it didnât seem malicious. It wasnât as if the witch had any reason to poison Enid or some other such wicked deed. Perhaps she was simply trying to sell more of her wares than this transaction intended. And perhaps it was working.
âYou may use my bedroom. Completely undisturbed.â Audra continued, gesturing behind her.
At the rear of the shack, there was a room cut off from the home proper by a ragged but effective privacy curtain. Enid looked at it and then back to Audra. She sighed and, against her better judgement, took the jar.
âIâŚsuppose it would be best to know its quality for certain,â she said. âFind out if the stories are just stories.â
Audra grinned. âOf courseâŚthatâs all.â
Enid brushed past her and made her way to the bedroom.
âCall if you need anything,â Audra said after her as the curtain was shut.
The room was small, mostly taken up by the bed but still with more than enough walking space around it. Despite being alone, Enid couldnât help but feel awkward. She could scarcely believe she was doing this. The jar in her hand suddenly felt so volatile. Placing it on the bed, she set about removing her gear and clothes until she was standing topless in the witchâs bedroom.
Enid sat on the edge of the mattress. It was old, but not dirty. She laid herself down against the pillows which were individually flat and stacked to be in any way comfortable. Taking a breath, she then reached for the jar and removed the lid.
The scent of the contents hit her at once; not unlike honey with a hint of something earthy. It flooded her senses and made something pleasantly shiver its way down her spine. Emboldened by rising excitement, she scooped up a bit of the milky-coloured ointment with her fingers. She ignored the need between her legs, not quite ready to go that far with it yet. Instead, she brought it to one of her nipples.
As Enid rubbed it against her quickly perking flesh, it thinned into a liquid that ran in rivulets down the curve of her breast. She did the same with the other before leaving the jar at her side to work the substance in with both hands. A pleased sigh escaped her as she teased herself. It felt good, but nothing more than what was typical.
She added more, making the whole of her tits glisten with it. Arousal flickered to life inside of her; a small, controlled candle flame rather than a blaze. Her thighs began to rub together unconsciously. She was certainly losing herself to this more quickly, but she wondered when the real show would begin. Was this all?
Just as Enid was starting to doubt the witchâs words, she felt a tingling sensation wherever the ointment had touched, concentrated at its highest power on the now-hardened buds on her breasts. She stopped touching herself just to feel it descend upon her with fascination. It was warm and didnât seem set on fading. Quite the contrary; it was growing more intense by the second.
Enid was helpless to it. She began to pant as sweat sprung up over her heating body. She became aware that the quick heaving of her chest was bringing her pleasure, however subtle the movement it brought to her breasts. Shaking fingers rose once more to her nipples. A loud moan wrenched itself from her as her back snapped into an arch from the intense pleasure.
Her body dropped heavily and she lay in shock for only a moment before she was compelled to continue.
âFuckâŚfuck,â she whimpered, rolling a hyper-sensitive nipple between her thumb and forefinger.
Her heart knocked against her ribs. This was it. This was what she had been looking for and more. Any walls she had pointlessly held up shattered and she gave herself over entirely to the Touch.
Enid proceeded to grope herself like she never had before; hard and desperate. Her hands squeezed the mound of her breasts, all but tugged at her nipples. Wetness was gathering in her undergarments the longer she fondled. Shameless noises and curses streamed from her mouth which began to drool from the corners.
She could imagine the sight she made; reduced so quickly to a writhing mess just from touching her own tits. But she wanted more. Needed more.
Enid paused, hands falling to rest at her sides. A glance down her body showed her thoroughly used nipples. She gasped to see them having swollen to twice their original size. They were dark and lightly, but visibly, throbbing.
Enid reached for her belt. She fumbled with it, discovering that her fingers were shaking too much to undo the buckle. Her pussy demanded attention with ardent pulses. The need to please it was enough to bring frustrated tears to Enidâs eyes. Her hands dropped once more, gathering the sheets tightly into her palms.
Biting back a whine, her gaze was drawn back to her chest, slick with a combination of the ointment and her sweat. Her engorged nipples continued to rapidly twitch. She tried to resume teasing them, but a single prod caused a shock of limb-weakening pleasure. It was too much. She couldnât keep up. The realization struck that she couldnât finish this herself.
Laying there, set upon by relentless arousal strong enough to bring her a full-body tremble, it was hard to think. But she didnât have to contemplate long about what to do next. Her mind wandered to sharp teeth and strong arms. To large, undoubtedly skillful hands that would be a balm on this ache. With a voice rising to an embarrassing near-wail, Enid called out in an urgent appeal to the only person for miles.
âAudra!â
Enid waited, praying that the witch hadnât left the home. But the privacy curtain was soon being pushed aside and Audra strode into the room. Her eyes glinted as they slowly roamed Enidâs body which lay on willing display for her. A dark tongue darted out briefly over her bottom fangs, making Enid swallow hard around her heavy breaths.
Audra hummed in amusement. âMy, my, what a state.â
âPleaseâŚplease, Audra. Please,â Enid pleaded. âI-I needâ.â
Shushing her, Audra approached the bed. She chuckled; more fond this time than ridiculing.
âPatience, pup,â she said lowly. âI have you.â
She situated herself on the bed and leaned over Enid, the scent of her heavy and intoxicating. Her hand cupped Enidâs face and she instinctively turned into it, exposing the length of her neck. Warm breath ghosted over her skin as Audraâs tongue traced its way up her throat and up to her ear, teasing at the lobe. Even that simple of an action made her cunt throb; she was done for.
Audra pulled away. âLook at me.â
Enid obeyed, meeting the witchâs thin pupils before being brought into a kiss. Though it was not as much of a kiss as it was Audra slipping her tongue directly into her mouth. She felt her eyes widen as the impossibly long muscle snaked down her throat and she couldnât deny how arousing it was. Sharp teeth grazed her lips as the tongue explored deeply. Enid moaned around it when a hand finally found her chest.
Audra took one of Enidâs breasts, pressing and rolling the nipple under her thumb. Swollen and straining, it pulsed all the harder under the witchâs touch. She could certainly feel it and that fact should have been mortifying. But Enid couldnât muster an ounce of care. Not when it was the source of such pleasure.
Cries muffled by the thick tongue laving around in her throat, Enid felt wild. Every brush against her nipple added to the fluttering heat that had overtaken her entire body. She thought she may very well quiver out of her skin.
Audra then retracted her tongue, licking her teeth as Enid gasped for air. Drool glistened on her chin and her gaze had become hungry. Both hands went to Enidâs tits, relentless attention fixed on the sensitive buds upon them. She gave yet another devious chuckle over Enidâs loud moans, her voice slightly rougher as she spoke.
âLook at them throbbing like that,â Audra marveled. âI knew there was a perverted body under that tough exterior. Itâs always the uptight ones.â
Enid merely whimpered, ecstasy fighting against any coherent speech.
âLooks tasty,â Audra said and it was the only warning Enid received before that probing tongue descended onto her chest.
It was so much better than a hand, circling over her nipple at alternating paces as Audra let out low, satisfied noises. Like someone devouring a delicious meal. Enid weakly tugged at the sheet, head tossed back against the pillow. Her breasts were slowly wet further with warm saliva as Audra moved her mouthy affections between both. The sensation was filthy, but she revelled in it.
A fever of pleasure wracked her body. Her legs snapped open of their own accord as her ignored pussy dribbled and throbbed. She wanted nothing more than to grind it against somethingâanything. Her hips writhed with that desire but she could do nothing more.
Yet, somehow, it was enough.
Enid moaned when a familiar feeling, though with an unfamiliar epicentre, surged within her. It was rapidly building to a peak as she was fondled and licked. Her nipples all but pounded with heartbeats of their own; though that was likely the effect of her own racing pulse in her ears. She could barely tell what was what anymore through the haze of impending release.
Audra was unwavering, her pleased vocalizations vibrating against slick, heated skin.
âAudraâŚI can'tâAudra, Iâll cum,â Enid said, frantic and breathless. âIâŚIâoh, fuck! Iâm cumming! Iâm cuâ!â
The words were cut off by a loud, quavering cry. Completely untouched, pleasure radiated from her sweltering cunt. Her back bent into as much as an arch as was allowed by Audra remaining on top of her. The witch teased her through it, prolonging her ecstasy until it was almost unbearable.
Enidâs orgasm dropped her. She lay catching her breath, twitching periodically with aftershocks as her nipples continued to throb. Audra had sat back to seemingly admire her work. An infuriatingly arousing smugness was settled into those shark-like features.
âAnd that,â Audra said, fangs flashing. âIs Courtesanâs Touch.â
Her hand lighted on Enidâs torso just below her heaving breasts. She trailed her fingers downwards. They came to a stop just before travelling between Enidâs legs, toying with the seam on her pants.
âIt does wonders here,â she said, undeniable excitement oozing from her tone. âMay I?â
Enid nodded. âPlease.â
âGood girl.â
Audra relinquished Enid of the rest of her clothes, gently sliding a single large hand under the small of her back to encourage her to assist by lifting her hips. Enidâs pants and underwear were dropped unceremoniously to the floor and her pussy was exposed to the air. She shivered, watching curiously as Audra took a moment to remove her waist wrappings and even things with her own nudity.
âLetâs not let you have all the fun,â she said.
Remaining standing by the bed, Audra lifted a foot and placed it up on the bed by Enidâs head so that her cunt was on full display. Enid couldnât help but stare at the enticing folds and prominent clit. She swallowed at the thought of sucking it. The unrelenting heat of the aphrodisiac still raged and quickened her breath as her desirous gaze remained fixed.
Audra reached down to thumb at her clit, eliciting a pleased hum. She gestured with a flick of her head to Enidâs side.
âHand me that, would you?â
Enid fumbled a little in reaching for the jar and giving it to Audra. The witch took a liberal amount of the ointment, using two of her thick fingers to rub it into her pussy. It quickly left a glistening, wet mess. Audra made a show of it, thrusting lightly into the air above Enidâs face as she played with herself. The scent of her soon-leaking cunt was dizzying.
âGetting a good look, arenât you?â Audra asked in between heavy breaths. âYou like to watchâŚI can tell.â
âYes,â Enid admitted, barely suppressing a needy whine at the sight of flushed and dripping folds parting eagerly for tireless fingers. She would kill for that then. Her body cried out in every silent but still insistent way to be teased and fucked. She couldnât stand it any longer.
Audra paused before any begging could occur. The whole of her pussy twitched as she remained with her foot up on the bed for only a few more moments. Enid could see a slight swelling beginning in her clit, wondering just how much it would be affected by the Touch.
Palming the jar and still breathing slightly erratically, Audra moved to sit back on the bed. Enidâs heart began to pound again in anticipation. Her head lolled against the pillow so she felt more than saw when Audraâs fingers made contact with her neglected pussy. It throbbed hard at the first stroke, sending her hips jolting.
The ointment melted to its liquid state as Audra took up an agonizingly slow pace. Enid moaned all the same, shaking and weak with the relief of finally being touched this way. Every stroke was heavenly, but they stopped all too soon. She felt movement which brought her attention to the witch.
Audra climbed up onto the bed, situating herself on her knees between spread thighs. Giving the warrior a crafty look, she reached out and grabbed Enidâs waist, pulling her forward with unexpected strength. Enid yelped and found herself with her backside resting up on Audraâs legs, her own splayed out on either side of the witch.
Audra smiled at the indignant expression she received but said nothing. She reached for the jar again to gather more ointmentâand focus a generous portion entirely on Enidâs clit. The warm, wide pad of Audraâs thumb worked it in with slow circles. Enidâs toes curled from the pleasure. Her lower half trembled, her soaking cunt quivering with every pass over her clit.
She panted as a familiar tingling settled in. She felt it like hot blood rushing rapidly into her clit. Her eyes rolled back with it. This time, she was hyper-aware of the swell. Every heartbeat-like pulse filled out her clit further. The sheer increasing strain of it kept cries spilling from her lips even though the touches had ceased.
Enid knew that Audra had stopped to observe. To watch her grow with that sharp, starving animal look of hers. She could feel those feral eyes on her pussy and it only served to make her clit pound harder. Biting back a sob, she finally looked at Audra, her aroused ideas confirmed.
But more than Audraâs intense staring, Enid was struck by the state of her clit. It had grown to a fair three inches, thick and throbbing as it stood jutting away from her body not unlike a cock. She whimpered, dying to touch it, but unable to stop her mind from whirling enough to put her hand into motion.
Audra let out a low growl, but it was accompanied by a large, toothy grin. She shuffled backwards ungracefully, allowing Enidâs body to drop hard onto the mattress. The motion made Enidâs raging clit bob drastically and stars burst in her wavering vision at the shock of pleasure.
âStay with me, pup,â Audra said huskily at the same time that Enid felt warm air puff against the skin of her sweat-slick thigh.
The witch was suddenly laying on her stomach between Enidâs legs, her pointed face inching closer to her cunt. That tongue which had enthusiastically explored her throat and teased her nipples slipped once again through deadly fangs. Enid barely had a lucid second to brace herself before it was tracing its way up her folds. A wail shook itself from her as it wrapped around the length of her clit.
Audra bobbed her head, writhing her tongue as she moved. The wet, rhythmic squeeze was exquisite. Her breath was humid against the mound of Enidâs pussy, laced with frequent drops of the saliva glinting off her fangs. Â The yellow eyes had glazed over somewhat, a whisper of palpable arousal forming on shark-like features as Audraâs hips began to rut against the mattress.
âGodsâŚgods,â Enid gasped, finally finding it in herself to return her hands to her still swollen and twitching nipples. Her moans cracked to a higher pitch, sounding in the small space over and over. She bucked into Audraâs face when pleasure would spike. Part of her feared she may lance herself on those sharp teeth, but it was a faint concern fogged by the mounting ecstasy of a fast-approaching release. Enid whined, ready to burst.
The tongue abruptly released her.
Frustration flared, tangling with the need in her voice. âN-noâŚwhyâ?â
Similarly breathless, Audra crawled forward. She was keeping her typical expression, but desperation still seeped through the cracks. Once their hips aligned, she stopped.
âLike hell am I passing up feeling you cum on mine,â she said huskily.
Looking down, Enid saw Audraâs clit; similarly augmented to a larger size and throbbing hard between her legs. The witchâs cunt was dripping, slick falling onto Enidâs body as she hovered above. Two deeply heated sets of eyes met for only a momentâs silence.
âFuck me,â Enid breathed. âFuck meâŚfuck me.â
Audra grinned and brought their swollen clits together. They moaned in near unison as she initially stilled, straining flesh twitching fervidly against each other. She began thrusting, slowly at first but gaining speed as their combined wetness eased the movement.
Enidâs hands landed on Audraâs thighs. She held on for dear life, her nails digging into muscle-taut skin. The pounding in the length (and it was still strange to apply that word) of her clit worked south, sending both of her holes twitching with pleasure. Her pussy was on fire and soaked the sheets beneath them. She cried out, any words incoherent aside from Audraâs name repeating on her tongue.
Audra was practically snarling, the sounds punching out of her with every forward thrust. She was truly bearing down. The full weight of her descended in deep grinds.
âTake it, pup. Take it,â she growled. âLetâs get off just humping together like this, huh? Thatâs all we need. Weâre just a couple of horny beasts.â
Enid moaned, unstable from Audraâs rough thrusting. âMoreâŚmoreâŚmore! Oh, gods, more!â
âNothingâhahânothing else to say that isnât begging?â Audra asked, playfully proud. âWhat happened to that smart tongue of yours? Cum yourself stupid on that last one?â
Maybe. But did Enid care? Not in the slightest. She didnât care that she had let things go this far. She didnât care that Courtesanâs Touch had made a needy little fuck-toy out of her. Every fibre of her being was alight in ways it never had been before. She readily lost herself to every deep throb in her engorged clit and gushing cunt.
âHarder,â she groaned through grit teeth.
Audra gave a laugh that was aborted in part by a choked moan as she obliged and upped her pace. Their bodies all but thrashed together, clits sliding over one another in a tight, wet press. The thick, heady scent of their fucking was broken only by the occasional sweet whiff of the Touch; a reminder of the simple ointment that had reduced them to this.
Like a shot, Enid found herself cumming. Any movements she was adding to the clash of aroused flesh stilled as she shook and moaned. The ever-present pulsing of her clit reached its apex while Audra continued. But it only took a few more wild, uncoordinated thrusts for the witch to join her.
Enid felt her throbbing and watched as golden eyes rolled back under flickering lids. Contrary to the earlier feral noises and filthy words, Audra was oddly quiet in her release. She seemed to be holding her breath before letting out an audible, gravelly and shaking exhale as she came down from it. Her head remained lowered, hiding her face from Enid while she gathered herself.
With a purposeful inhale, she eventually straightened and looked down at the human pinned underneath her. The corners of her mouth perked.
âSoâŚthat meet your standards?â she said, a bead of sweat dripping from her temple and caressing her lower jaw.
When she didnât receive an answer from a still-panting Enid right away, she moved to dismount. But she was stopped by two hands slapping down onto her thighs. She dropped back down, mild shock finding her face for the first time.
âAs I said,â Enid said slowly, heat creeping into her face despite her demanding tone. âMore.â
Audra flashed that beastly grin and bent forward to grab the jar.
âYou should be wary of what you ask for, pup.â
End
Masterlist
#text#spicy#ash originals#terato#exophilia#f/f#monster love#monster lover#monster girlfriend#shark oc#oc:audra#oc:enid
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