#Epic Drabble

[that-one-weeb-buts-its-the-main]

Hi mate, how’ve you been? I was wondering if I could request a little mandrake x femme reader drabble, if you don’t mind? I’ve been scrolling through the epic tag aimlessly over the weekend cuz I was on vacation and remembered that you had done some requests yourself! Oh and thx sm for your support with my own stuff! <3

Wounds| Mandrake

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Reader: Female Reader| Mandrake x reader

Notes: Sorry for the lack of fics. I've been working so much, tbh It's stupid...

Warnings: mentions of wounds

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"You can't come in here- The king!-!" A gaurd shouted.

"Move! Or you'll never have kids again!" Y/n ordeded dress hiked up in her hands and on a tyrant.

He was quick to move Y/n moving forward. The one guard was luckily he was given mercy by her.

"Mandrake!" She shouted, causing the forest to flinch.

"Keep her out of here." Mandrake ordered his gaurds lazily, slumped over in his throne: beaten, cuts and brusies freshly fixed up.

The gaurds looked at each other and then separated themselves to give Y/n a pathway.

"You're dead!" Y/n contuined to rage.

Walking past the two gaurds. He only sighed, hand covering his face, his elbow supporting his upper body weight.

"What is your problem!? Are you serious!?" Y/n shouted.

"Please give me some peace and quiet!" He ordeded.

A big mistake; she was already mad, now she was furious.

"Peace and Quiet!? You want peace and quiet!?" Y/n argued, her nostrils flaring in anger: "I tried to give you peace and quiet! The whole Kingdom! But you and that Leafman idiot commander can't keep your hands off each other!"

"Do not word it that way-"

"What?! Honesty tick you off now?!" Y/n snapped. He glanced at her, and she started her pacing: "I'll have to meet with Queen Tara again! You and Ronin need to either back off or get married to one another! I already solved the border issue and now!-"

Her voice raged on a she turned to look at him, her voice falling to silence. Mandrake looked beat up, badly beat up. For only a moment she argued with herself; "I..." he started, "know you have been working hard, for peace...thank you,"

Y/n sighed, walking her way over; up the small steps to his throne, she kneeled at the base of his throen, he was slumped over making it easier for her to get a better look at his face, he hiding brusies under the hand which covered his face.

"Let me see." She spoke softly.

"I'm fine-"

Mandrake paused as she pushed his hand away softly, she frowning at the bruise forming under his eye.

"Have you..." Y/n started, reaching out to touch his face; his flinching, "so you haven't..."

Y/n looked back and called for a gaurd: "Get my medical equipment please, it's in my room," She told.

"Yes, my Queen." He responded and rushed off to do as ordered.

She turned around back to him as she cupped his cheek: he leaned into it: "What happened," y/n asked softly.

"It seems you know the answer to that." Mandrake answered. He sounded just as exhausted as he looked.

"My queen."

Y/n turned her head a gaurd there with her bag, "Thank you." She spoke taking it from him.

Y/n was quick to open the bag and look through her bottles of Tonics. She picking one out.

"What does that have in it?"

"Root-"

"Pine root?"

"Mhm-"

"No."

"I know it stings but it heals the best-"

Y/n put some on some cotton she had in another glass, and lifted her hand up to clean his wounds. Yet he blocked her.

"Mandrake-"

"No-"

"It's going to get infected if I don't clean it." Y/n argued.

"It stings-"

"Maybe you shouldn't of gone into a fight then."

He winced as she blotted his face: he hissing as she cleaned his wounds.

"I know. Im sorry." Y/n answered, quick to finish and pull away: "Where else?"

"Surely you don't think I'm going to undress for you in front of my own men." He teased; his eyes switching sides to look her way.

"If I asked?" She asked; sat all pretty on the backs of her feet, looking at him with the wish only to help.

"no." Mandrake answered.

"Damn it." Y/n cursed.

"You know that doesn't work on me," Was his response, she getting her bag back together, closing it up as she stood.

"That's not what you said a night ago." She snarked back, a smile across her face.

The guards standing attention at the entry way tried to hold it together.

"Damn sounds like Im getting more action than the boss?" A third grumbled to her coulleges.

"What was that!?" Mandrake shouted.

"Nothing, sir!" They were quick to answer.

"Be nice to the kids." Y/n protested, holding her hand out, "come on love, lets go and finsih patching you up."

[kibbyy]

what do you think cait thought about jayce disappearing?

do you think she understood when she realized viktor was gone too? do you think she hopes the two just ran away from it all together? or is she too pragmatic and accepts jayce is dead (i’m a “they woke up in an au found a cabin and lived happily ever after” truther to cope)

how long do you think she waited for him to come home? what do you think she told his mother? i feel like cait would have told ximena he died fighting to save them and succeeded but cait deep down would always wonder exactly what happened.

i’ve just really been thinking about jayce and caitlyn and what we missed out seeing about their relationship because arcane wanted to squeeze like 3 seasons worth of content EASY into one season.

i’ve always loved caitlyn even with the flaws she has, she had me by the neck ever since i saw her following jayce back to his apartment right before it blew up. she was too cute i swear. then the brothel scene with her and vi sealed the deal.

at least vi and cait had each other for comfort after losing their siblings? another thing in common? 😭

arcane i need answers i beg

[mannythemunchkin]

ANOTHER HERMES DRABBLE

🔞18+ MDNI🔞

TAGS: teasing, light praise kink, handjob, whining and whimpering Hermes, power bottom(I think?), AFAB!Reader, fem!Reader x Hermes, porn without plot, no beta we die like the crew, overstimulation, begging and pleading, Hermes is whipped.

WORD COUNT: 919

A/N: These demons need to be vanquished, and that can only be done by writing them down. Have some more Hermes filth, lovelies.

ART BY XIMENA NATZEL

“Darling, please...” Hermes whined needily. You were straddling his lap, your fingers threading through his mussed hair, occasionally scratching his scalp lightly, while trailing wet, open-mouthed kisses and gentle love bites all over his collarbone, neck and shoulders. You had been teasing him for almost an hour, your lips and hands never touching where he needed them the most. You wouldn't even deign him a kiss. You had him squirming and writhing beneath you on your couch. Hermes, God of oh so many things, messenger of the Greek Gods, was putty in your hands. A soft hum sounded from you as you slid a hand down to his chest, and you felt the God tense underneath your feather-light touch as you began tracing idle patterns on his pecs and sternum.

“Please… what, baby?” You muttered against the column of his neck. You grabbed the hair at his neck and tugged his head back slightly, earning a breathless moan from him. Hermes eagerly tilted his head back at your tug, desperate for more of your ministrations. He had his hands behind his back, not tied up or anything, just tugged back there between himself and the couch, at your request, and who was he to not give what his lover wanted. It was taking every ounce of restraint and strength in him to not just grab you and pound you into the couch, but you had asked if you could take control for a bit, and oh, was he absolutely loving it. His entire body felt like it was charged with electricity, every little touch you did made his over-sensitized nerves go haywire, sending so many shivers and shudders through him he was practically vibrating.

As Hermes opened his mouth to response, to plead for you to touch him where he wanted, no, needed you the most, you leaned on close and took his lower lip between your teeth, and all that left him was a high pitched whine as he chased your mouth when you leaned back once more. “Please, I need more. I'm aching, darling…” his voice was strained and breathless. You had him pleading, begging, for more. For anything that'd relieve the almost painful ache between his legs. He looked up at you with big, pleasure hazed eyes, his silvery irises almost glowing with raw need and desire. A sweet, wicked smile curved your lips, and you cooed in a slight mocking tone as your hand on his chest began roaming his toned torso, your fingertips brushing ever-so-lightly over his nipples. Hermes sucked in a breath, and for the first time since you began, his hips involuntarily bucked up against your core, eliciting a quiet moan from you and a gravelly groan from himself.

You tutted disapprovingly, tightening your grip in his hair to yank his head back further. The hand you had on his chest moved downwards, your nails scraping lightly over his toned chest and abs before your fingertips teasingly traced the hem of his underwear. “You want it down here? Want me to touch you, give you what you need?” Hermes let out a noise that sounded like a mix of a whimper and a groan, and he nodded eagerly. “Please.”

“Hmm… I guess I'll reward you. You've been so good the whole time. Such a good boy~” You praised him, and your words were rewarded with a string of small whines and whimpers as he kept nodding, his brain short-circuiting from even the slightest of praise. He bucked his hips again, this time deliberately, and he sent you a pleading look. Hermes looked absolutely ravished. His cheeks, neck and chest were all flushed a dark pink, his lips parted while his breath came out in ragged pants, and his eyes were glazed over. You swallowed, and gave him a small nod before shimmying slightly back on his lap to give yourself room to work. You threaded your fingers through his hair, the gesture gentle and sweet, while your other hand tugged his underwear down, freeing his twitching cock from its confines.

You directed your eyes to his cock, your nimble fingers wrapping around it before giving him a trying stroke. The moan that escaped Hermes at the simple flick of your wrist was the most erotic sound you had ever heard, and it was music to your ears. You stroked him again, this time pressing the pad of your thumb down on the slit, smearing the hefty amount of precum that had been leaking out all over the blunt tip, and Hermes let out what sounded like a string of curses in ancient Greek. His cock twitched in your hand, and you raised an eyebrow, a small grin tugging at your lips, and you began stroking him faster and harder. It took all but five or six strokes before a desperate cry rumbled in Hermes’ chest, and he came all over his stomach and your hand, but you didn't stop. Your hand moved at a slightly slower pace, but you kept stroking him, and you had him shuddering beneath your ministrations as pulses of hot cum shot out of his twitching cock.

You were just about to let go of him, when suddenly your world turned around, and you found yourself with your face pressed into the couch cushions and your ass in the air. Hermes positioned himself behind you, and he leaned down, covering your body with his much bigger one, and he groaned quietly next to your ear.

“My turn, darling~”

[witless-winion1]

imagine Polites was in the courtyard for the last battle of Troy. Imagine he looks up from bandaging a comrade’s injury, and sees his friend. Helmet off, head lowered, face pinched in what could only be described as anguish. Polites would have called to him, but he knows better than to interrupt Ody during his Big Brain Thinking moments.

but then his friend raises something into view over the wall; a swaddle of white, and it’s squirming, enough that Polites could see it from where he stands, now frozen in confusion and inexplicable dread. Odysseus loved kids and babies, he wouldn’t harm one for any reason. Hell, he’d cried so hard when Penelope gave birth to Telemachus that he’d nearly passed out from dehydration. He’d spared every child in every battle in this ten-year war.

but his friend extends his arm, holding the swaddle precariously by the ends of the blanket, over the thirty foot drop onto the solid stone ground. The innocent baby just wiggles unconcernedly.

Polites opens his mouth, but whatever he was going to say (because he certainly didn’t know himself) gets caught, and then his friend let’s go.

and Polites can’t turn away as the white swaddle falls, a sudden, tiny cry starting from the hidden infant’s throat, that cuts off when it hits the ground, with a sound that Polites never wanted to hear again, and the white turns red.

Out of every horror he’s seen that night, that’s the one he dreams of when he eventually lays his head down to sleep.

He wakes thrashing, falling out of his hammock, and Odysseus’s hand jerks from his shoulder to his side, catching him before he can hit the ground and aggravate whatever minor injuries he got from the last battle.

Polites has always been a very honest person. Since boyhood, since he told his mother was sick because he ate too much sesamous when he was five, confessed to Odysseus and Eurylochus that he didn’t like hunting when he was nine, told his aunt she was too unkind to the less fortunate then them when he was thirteen.

when Odysseus asks him what troubles him, Polites can’t seem to bring himself to admit the truth.

when they sail for home, he forces himself not to avoid his captain. They’ve all done horrible things in the heat of Ares’ domain. but a baby? whispers his conscious.

Shush, he tells it. There’s a logical solution, there has to be.

and yet Odysseus offers none, and he is too cowardly to ask for it, and gods know he cannot make sense of it no matter how he tosses and turns with the rocking ship.

when they reach the island of the Lotus Eaters, Polites smiles at the funky little guys, adoring their blissful grin. He crouches and strokes it, cooing about how soft it is. Odysseus hums, unfazed, and grumpy. Polites can tell he hasn’t slept well the past few weeks. But he reaches down anyway and picks one up under the arms, studying it from every angle while the innocent creature just wiggles unconcernedly in his hands.

Polites can’t help the urge to gently pull the creature from his hands. He smiles to cover whatever tension there is, and places the lotus eater safely in the ground.

he reminds his friend that there’s no need to constantly be suspicious and prone to fighting; why not default to greeting the world with kindness and open arms? Even though trust may get taken advantage of sometimes, it would at least alleviate the risk of unnecessary blood spilled.

and as Odysseus looks away, Polites sees the pain in his eyes, staring at the Lotus eaters as they tumble around with each other. One drops suddenly from a low tree limb, and while Polites manages to stifle his wince, Odysseus is caught just off-guard enough to flinch when it hits the ground with a thump. The lotus eater got up and ambled off without a scratch.

“This life is amazing when you greet it with open arms,” Polites says softly, reaching out to grasp his friend by the elbow. “I see in your face, there is so much guilt inside your heart…”

Polites could see as the words hit home, his friend’s shoulders drooping as he looks up at him. His eyes are nearly akin to what Argos’s looked like when their ships sailed from Ithaca’s harbor.

“…so why not replace it, and light up the world; here’s how to start…” Polites gently squeezes his arm. “Greet the world with open arms.”

“Greet the world with open arms…” Odysseus repeated softly, leaning into him. Polites let him hide his face in his chest, wrapping him in his arms and letting him hide from the weight of his not-so-secret sins.

[kqutie]

ao3 request : HI I AM SO IN LOVE WITH THIS FIC ... if its not too much trouble, do you think you could write this fic in a male pov? … i just want more immersion im not mad lmao just desperate and pathetic for hermes

length : 1.4k

a/n : I hope this a good compromise for being unable to make a male pov version of the series, my darling. it’s only a little something, i’m sorry i couldn’t do more for you but, again i did my best to make it feel special to you as a fellow hermes lover. hopefully it also explains (not excuse!) hermes’ harassing behaviour towards the reader.

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“What have you done, Hermes?” Athena begins, already distressed as she appears out of nowhere beside him.

“Nothing at all, darling~” he coos nonchalantly, peering over the new cloud he’s stationed over your island for further observations. He’s made a habit of planting himself there in his free time just so he has the best view of all the hilarious antics you pull on the crew. He hasn’t been able to laugh this much in ages — no wonder he’s grown such an attachment to you.

“Don’t play dumb!” His half-sister snaps and huffs in frustration, working herself up as she drills a hole into his temple with a glare. “There was no need for such a show!”

“Oh! But we had the perfect audience~” Hermes reasoned with a sly smirk and guiltless eyes, hands tucked behind his head, and his ankles crossing over as he floated about on his back as if on a suspended bed of air. “Why not provide them with some entertainment? It’s only fair since they’ve supplied me with so much in so little time~” he chuckles to himself at the amusing events he’s witnessed.

Athena takes a moment to observe his unconcerned attitude; it’s as if she’s trying to look into his soul. She’s looking at him like many of her elaborate weaving projects, closely examining each thread to ensure that not a single one was a centimetre out of place. It was quite unnerving, but Hermes only had to keep his eyes shut and hum to himself leisurely for sufficient distractions.

“What is this about Hermes? There’s something more here, isn’t there?”

Hermes knows another lecture is coming and avoids the conversation for as long as possible. The best way, he gathers, is to not address it at all. He peeks at her with a lazily, half-opened eye, “Wha’s that?”

There’s a strict but worried expression on Athena’s face. Ever since she had taken his great-grandson in as her champion, they have grown a closer relationship, sometimes confiding in each other over small frustrations. At an especially vulnerable time, Hermes had gone to her, pouring as much of his heart out as he had drunk Dionysus’ wine. It was a rare sight to see her spritely half-brother, but Athena helped him through it. She didn’t quite understand why, however, as she wasn’t usually the solicitous type — she later found out that he needed her logic to balance his emotional state. That was the only wise thought he had at the time, and she was happy it was one he followed through on. Back then, she was more logical than empathetic, so she couldn’t offer much compassion, but she had grown since, even as a Goddess. And she can already foresee what will happen without a prophet's clairvoyance. She needs to approach the topic with equal parts delicacy and rigour.

“Don’t do this to yourself again, Hermes.” Athena meets her half-brother’s uncharacteristically aggrieved glare. She doesn’t back down even in the tense pause that follows where he refuses to answer her. The silence stretches on for so long between them that she’s afraid he has turned to stone because of his abnormal stillness.

“…It’s not happening again!” The messenger god finally snaps, turning away from his half-sibling to stare at nothing — nothing is better than seeing the pity in her eyes.

“Despite her divine-like powers, she is still a mortal, Hermes!” Athena reasoned, circling her brother to be able to see his face and look into his eyes, wanting to convey the gravity of the situation, but is unsuccessful. Hermes was insistent on not meeting her eyes, turning away at her every step. Eventually, she stops, succumbing to his wishes and stands back but her presence has grown so imposing. It feels just as perturbing that she doesn’t leave him be — why couldn’t she just leave him be?!

“If you don’t stop, it will end just the same.” She warns even though she knows he doesn’t want to hear another word, judging by the tension in his shoulders. “You have to let her go before history repeats itself — you’re only hurting yourself and her. The same way you hurt yourself and—!”

“Don’t Say His Name!” Hermes finally meets her eyes, his demanding shout stilling the air around them. His eyes glowed brighter with a profound fury beneath the shadow of his helmet. The wings attached to his helmet, once flexed in their alertness, gradually move to cover his eyes — a weak attempt at shielding him from the world.

Even with his eyes hidden away, Athena could tell that they welled with tears. But there is no satisfaction when she sees the salty drops drip past the mask of his feathers and down his cheek and jaw.

To think that a mortal man could have such an adverse effect on her usually jocular brother. Despite the years that have already passed and Hermes’ supposed return to normality, he has yet to recover from such a sad loss. The love he had described to her as the truest kind he’d ever found had slipped right through his fingers. It was to be expected of mortal souls, they are far more fragile than the gods and meet their ends far quicker. In his desperation, Hermes pleaded with their uncle to allow him the privilege of continuing to see his love again in the underworld. The messenger god had such hope that it could be made possible for him, but alas, he was not granted such a benefit, even as the lord of the underworld’s nephew. The night Hermes had sought comfort in her, he had been on his way back from Hades after retrieving a barrel of wine from Dionysus, who took pity on him.

Hermes reminisced his and his love’s happiest memories, from the times that left them breathless and feeling nothing but alive to the quiet moments spent in impossible closeness. He described their connection as a fated one, a union that made him want to slow down the years and not live at such high speeds, a surprising confession from the god known for his swiftness. Because of him, Hermes had begun to crave a simple, quiet existence — all he needed was him to reach fulfilment and completeness. Hermes remembered and gushed over his love’s beautiful eyes, his loving voice, his addictive lips, his shining spirit and his strong build. He vowed to never forget him or the precious love they’d shared.

As time passed and his lover grew older and frailer, Hermes became anxious to immortalise him and keep him by his side forever. He sought his father, who, in a rare instance, instructed against it, citing the failed immortalisation of other mortals such as Achilles and Endymion. Zeus had saved him from the heartache of foolishly and selfishly causing his love’s demise. But, in turn, had made him the bearer of a different heartache.

But…was one truly more painful than the other? Hermes regrets every day that he didn’t, at least, try for his love…

“Don’t you ever say his name… His name is a precious one. Even I do not speak it.” Hermes gathers himself away from his sister’s prying view and his helmet wings slowly fold back to reveal his eyes once again.

“You do not speak it because of the pain it gives you!”

“His name will only ever bring me joy! Don’t speak as if you know about my heart! You. Don’t. Athena. No one does. Only he ever did!”

“But I know you will only make a fool of yourself once again — she is a mortal! A mortal! It will all end the same!” Their screams leave them breathing heavily and exhausted. But, gradually, the tension fades and so do the high emotions. Hermes’ scowling expression slowly melts into a dispirited one as Athena’s stern stare warms with sympathy.

“Let her go, Hermes.”

Shaking his head, the messenger god turns away with slumped shoulders, his helmet’s wings giving a subtle tremble as if to shake off the sadness.

‘HERMES!’ the patron god smiles to himself, his mood lifting upon hearing your cry in between his ears.

“Oh! It appears as though I’m being summoned~” Without another word, he zips away, his conflicted expression finally revealing itself when finally away from Athena’s prying gaze. But as he drew closer to you, it melted into a smug (almost sad) grin.

Athena’s right…

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[kingbyx]

Saw some Epic warrior!Penelope aus where our favorite girl ends up at war in Odys place and had to throw my own au in there

When the ships of Ithaca are called to war, Odysseus by some horrible coincidence (or perhaps something more?) falls terribly sick. Physicians are certain he’ll pull through, he’s young, he’s healthy, he’s blessed by gods, they say, he has a newborn son to raise, and kingdom to protect, he has so much to live for. They say he will be better, but they cannot say when.

It has been weeks, and Agamemnon demands his presence. They don’t want to leave without the clever, Athena blessed king of Ithaca.

Penelope, still weak from childbirth, grieving for a husband she hasn’t yet lost, dresses in her loves clothes and sails off to war with 600 men. Eurylochus and Polites, Odysseus’s best friend and brother in law, are the only ones to notice.

Penelope had long trained with Odysseus, he believed she needed to be able to fight as well as he could, if not better, to assure she was safe. “I’ll always protect you” he always said “but if that terrible time comes that I am unable, I need you to be able to protect yourself as I would.” She had laughed and said she would kill any who dare attack her or her love.

Now she put those skills to use, ten years of war, pretending to be Odysseus.

Of course, her own crew realized soon enough. Her disguise did not hold up in such close quarters. With the support of her closest allies, they eventually (though some reluctantly) turned to her aid. Ensuring that, for all the years they fought Troy, she was never found out.

Athena guided her hand, she would joke to her crew after every battle she won, but the owl at the edge of her vision was no illusion.

Now, after her Trojan Horse succeeded, she sails towards home, dreading what she will find despite her joy at the idea of seeing her love again

Back in Ithaca, Penelope has no need to worry for her husbands loyalty.

Raising his son in a kingdom missing all its best soldiers, oddyseus worries constantly for his wife. Every day, hundreds of men and women invade his castle, and he cannot get them to leave. The last dregs of illness still haunt his body, and he cannot fight them all.

They ask him to marry them, to marry their daughters (most of which are far, far too young. Many no older than Telemachus)

He wants only to sail off, build a ship of whatever materials they have left and run away with his son to find his mother. He cannot, his kingdom still needs a ruler.

He misses Penelope, Polites, Eurylochus, Elopenor, Perimedes. Even Athena seems to have disappeared.

[ineedtherapydesperately]

I was listening to the Cyclops saga and more specifically My Goodbye and like tell me why is that song so Red and Queen of Hearts coded?? like a Red and Queen of Hearts coming of age kinda scenario like imagine QoH is all demeaning and condescending towards Red and then Red just snaps?? straight up loses her shit?? like hear me out it's so them

like this is absolutely something QoH would say bsffr especially considering the books as well and girlie is here like I raised you to be the Princess of Hearts?? blah blah we're meant to be evil rulers together in the future for the sake of Wonderland

then the lecture would absolutely turn into a 'why are you such a disappointment' rant and then QoH goes on a whole ass tirade against Red again like

and Red just snaps, thinking about her friends like Chester and Ace, thinking about what QoH did to them and thinking about how she was so utterly powerless against her own mother

so she screams, she yells, she cuts QoH out of her life for good because she's so SICK of her mother constantly telling her what to do, how to act, who to kill. she's so sick of living her life under some Queen, ruled by some Queen

but ofc QoH has to slip in her own little off with their heads reference but surprisingly doesn't put up too much of a fight?? like she just lets Red walk out, which surprises Red until she realises that it's a sick ploy because who can Red turn to now?? she just alienated the RULER of Wonderland, their absolute Queen, their tyrant but Red can't find it in herself to care because she's finally free of her mother

and Red being Red can't resist one last quip at her mother before she leaves the court for the final time, packing her bags and headed off to wherever (probably Chloe) and leaves QoH to wallow in this parting shot because Red was right?? she's all alone?? first, Ella left her, and now her daughter and she's all alone??

idk this song got me thinking things but yeah Red is so Odysseus coded and QoH is so Athena coded

[theproverbialpen]

How would your character say “I love you” without using those words? (EPIC: Poseidon Drabble)

My friends and I just wrapped a session of a creative writing exercise where we only have 5 minutes to write for a prompt and I ended up writing some really sappy shit centered around my EPIC fic that I was actually pretty proud of :) No cut this time cause it's pretty short:

It was quiet offerings left on the shore. It was the starfish woven into every design. It was the best fruits from her market haul left on the altar by her gorgeous tapestry, warmed by the hearth. 

It was shy glances and small smiles. It was epithet after epithet, each one more obscure than the last. It was the way she cradled the shell close to her as she drifted off to sleep.

It was the gentle patterns she would trace into his chest after they had lain together, whether going at it like fervent animals or making love like it was her last day. It was the way she would sing to him, not with the seductive siren song he so loved, but with her voice. Her high notes and stunning vibrato. It was all the things that were uniquely her, things that she would show no one else—mortal and divine alike.

She would never say she loved him. Not in that way. It was something that bordered far too close to sacrilege, to the hubris so frowned upon by mankind and their fragile cities of stone and prose. She would never say something so audacious, despite her audacity in every other facet of her fleeting yet memorable life.

But Poseidon knew. He knew when she curled into his side, when they floated amongst his domain together, and when they bantered for hours just to enjoy each other’s company.

His little siren would never say that she loved him. But in a thousand ways and more, she showed him the depth of her adoration and then some.

((Line divider made by @plum98))

[xfilesinamajor]

Trapped

Same isn’t all that far from Ithaca. Close enough that on a clear day, if she sits on the roof of the palace and squints really hard, she can see a dark smudge on the horizon that she knows is home.

It’s still “home” in her mind, even after twelve years of life on a different island, in a different palace, with a different family. That’s probably why Same doesn’t feel like home, even though Euenus and Oitane have made every effort to include her and make her feel welcome in their home. It’s still their home. Euenus still rules Same, and will continue to do so until Eurylochus returns or Leotychides grows to manhood. And Ctimene—she’s trapped in the middle, raising the future king of this place that isn’t her home.

If the war had never come—if Eurylochus hadn’t left so soon after the wedding—if the war hadn’t been so far—if it hadn’t gone on for so painfully long—then things would be different. Her husband would have been her with her to form memories in this palace, to hold her in the cold, unfamiliar bed, to stand by her and help her raise their son. He doesn’t even know he has a son, she hadn’t known herself until weeks after the ships for Troy departed.

He doesn’t know. Ctimene smiles bitterly into the bright sunshine. She’s still thinking of him as if he’s alive, when chances are very good that he isn’t. Other soldiers have returned to their homes over the past two years, most of them in the first few months. She knows the war is over, and the Odysseus survived it. Her parents received word from Menelaos about that, and they had passed the message on to her. Ithaca is a sizeable island, and Odysseus had distinguished himself as a general in the war.

But no one had bothered to send a message about Eurylochus of Same.

Even if he did survive the war, no one from any of their islands has returned home. It’s very likely they all drowned. Mother never gave up hope that they were still coming, that they had only been delayed…she had died believing that any day now, Odysseus would come walking through the doors.

Ctimene was there when she passed. They knew she was failing, and Eumaeus had arrived in a ship to escort her home in time to say her goodbyes. Leotychides had joined her, initially sitting seriously and quietly at her side, looking at her with wide, frightened eyes when his grandmother touched his face with her cold hands and called him Telemachus.

Telemachus, though only older by a year, somehow knew just what to do, and he’d led his cousin off to play a game. Mother had slipped away before they returned. She’d died looking beyond Ctimene and Eumaeus to the doors behind them, telling them calmly and softly that she wasn’t going to the Underworld just yet, she had to wait for Odysseus.

At least she had still died with hope. Father seemed to have lost all hope after that, retreating to the kingdom’s farmlands and forsaking the palace. To Ctimene, it was as though she lost both her parents within the span of only a week. Only Eumaeus, Penelope, and young Telemachus remained of her family.

Poor Penelope. Ctimene doesn’t envy her position these days, even if she has brought the troubles on herself. With Odysseus presumed dead, Ithaca is ready for a new king. And Penelope, lovely as she is, would have no shortage of suitors even were she not Queen. But like Mother, she refuses to accept the loss and move on. As long as she insists her husband is alive, Telemachus cannot become king, and she cannot remarry. Yet she can’t stop men from trying to court her, and already last Ctimene heard there are at least a dozen of them on her doorstep.

At least as long as Euenus lives and rules, no one dares to bother Ctimene or Leotychides. They are left to age and grow in relative peace, in this place that isn’t her home. She ought to be grateful for that.

And she is. She is grateful. Most of the time.

Before Eurylochus, she’d known the touch of no man. She had longed for it, though, and in the few precious weeks they had together, she had come to enjoy it more completely than she could have imagined. Then abruptly that was taken from her, and for twelve years she has been longing for it again. She loves her son, adores watching him grow into a tall and awkward young man, treasures his companionship. But there are other types of companionship she desires.

If Eurylochus will never return, she wants someone to warm her bed, hold her close, share the joys and sorrows of her heart. To find someone who will love her after Leotychides is grown, so she won’t someday find herself old and alone on this island which isn’t her home. She doesn’t want to be lonely forever. She is loath to die like Mother, waiting for someone who isn’t coming back. Twelve years is so long, after so short a time together.

And yet while she is on Same, under the roof of Eurylochus’ parents, the decision is not hers. Until they admit he is dead, she cannot dishonor the family by taking a new lover. She will not open herself up to the sort of slander that such a rash act would bring. She is Ctimene of Ithaca, daughter of Laertes, and she is no whore.

She lies back on the roof, melting into the heat of the sun-baked tiles, and closes her eyes. In her mind, she tries to conjure up Eurylochus’ face. It’s not difficult—Leotychides looks so much like him. In fact, she remembers Eurylochus at eleven years old. After the harvest every year, and in the spring, he and the children from other surrounding islands would come to Ithaca. Mother and Father would throw a feast and listen the ideas and requests of all the smaller kingdoms. He was the one who taught her how to climb trees. After years of tagging after Odysseus and Eumaeus and begging for their aid, this tall, dark boy had taken the time to patiently show her where to put her feet and instructed her on how to pull herself up to the lowest branch. Once she’d made it that far, she’d caught on quickly. Climbing came as easily as her to breathing now. It was why this roof had become one of her favorite places. She can sit quietly, undisturbed by duty or honor, stare across the waters, and see home.

But the young man who kissed her in the highest branches of the tree outside her parents’ palace—Odysseus’ palace—is not the Eurylochus of today. If he even lives. Tears burn the backs of her eyes, and since she is alone she feels no shame at letting them roll down her cheeks. If he’s still out there, why hasn’t he come home? Why does he leave her to suffer like this, forever a guest in his home, queen of nothing but loneliness? How could he still be out there, changed beyond recognition by time and war, walking about under the same sun that’s warming her skin?

She wants it to be possible. She longs to see what they years have done to him. She can imagine just the way his arms will fit around her, and the adorable look of shock on his face when she introduces Leotychides. The picture in her head makes her smile, and she remembers how he used to make her laugh. Every time she did something unexpected, he’d make that silly face of surprise, and she couldn’t help but laugh.

His family had paid a huge bridal price when he asked to marry her. He’d thought, somehow, that without it, her family might refuse. She’d laughed when he told her that. She still remembers the moment. On their wedding day, after all the ceremonies. She’d laughed and demanded to know what had made him think for a moment that her parents would stop her marrying whoever she chose. “I didn’t think you’d chose me,” he’d said, and she could have slapped him.  “If I didn’t want you, you stupid man, then no amount of money could have bought me.”

She used to laugh so much. She used to be so young. She used to be so free.

She wants him to come home, even though she knows in her heart that he’s dead. She can accept the cruel fate the gods have dealt her, however it plays out. She’s never been one for denial.

But all the same, Ctimene misses her husband. Perhaps she always will.

[mer-acle]

Your fic is giving me more thoughts of winged!athena being more animalistic in her human form….

had the idea of Athena being more of a cornered animal when Telemachus finds her, weakly screeching and hissing at him because she’s in so much pain she doesn’t recognize him and she only has the thought of finding odysseus….

Thinking she’d still apologize to odysseus but it’s mixed with weak owl noises before she passes out…

Your fic is giving me so many ideas but I cannot write well so I’m sharing them here instead of in a fic lol

My finger slipped...

------

The owl's form contorted and shifted, changing painfully into the humanoid form he knew. She hissed sharply, arching her back.

"Athena?" Telemachus's voice shook. There was something very wrong about her, her feathers ruffled and all but completely covered by a golden liquid he instinctively knew to be her blood.

Her eyes darted to him, something wild and foreign in them, and she hissed again, weakly scrambling to her feet, one wing spreading behind her as the other hung down limply.

"Athena, what's wrong?"

She staggered, but there was something so feral in her features that he didn't dare get any closer. He lifted up his hands, showing he was unarmed.

"Athena, it's me... it's just me."

She just hissed at him, a piercing sound that he'd heard from owls before, she was looking at him, but she didn't see him. He wasn't sure how much of her was present at all.

Her legs gave out and she went to the floor hard, making him gasp. His thoughts were racing. She was hurt, but she wouldn't let him help her, and he knew that even like this, she was way more dangerous than any common wild animal.

She whimpered weakly, a shuddering hooting noise that sounded absolutely miserable.

Telemachus swallowed hard.

"It's okay," he said softly. "You're okay, just stay here, I'll get help."

------

Hope that's close to what you thought about :)

[literallyjustforlurking]

Maiden, Mother, Man

Artemis stared at the screaming man in front of her, he looked insane. When Annabeth Chase had fallen off the cliff with the manticore she had been saddened by the loss of a strong maiden and had presumed to have to deal with the possibel grief of her questing partners but the way the boy was acting was.... confusing.

He looked like he had gone insane and for some reason this....upset her. She walked over to the maiden, mother, man who looked as if was considering throwing himself of the cliff after the man, father, maiden while the saytr was busy dealing with the young demigods for whom the manticore had originally been after.

Standing behind the Queen, Demigod she called his name that had been echoing across Olympus since his claiming "Percy Jackson," The name felt bitter on her tongue, it felt wrong. It was the name of the son of Poseidon but it did not seem to match the child who sat in front of.

The demigod turned to her and she saw the recogniztion in his eyes a moment before it appeared in her own. "My apologies you have lost your husband again," Penelope smiled up at her, "It would no use trying to lie to you would it?"

"I may not be the god of truth like my brother but I can recognize a maiden in any form."

The queen smiled at her again, but this time it seemed more subdued.

"It is always a pleasure to see you again my lady, but would you mind keeping the information of our return to yourself, I would prefer the sea god not know of my past and I do not believe my husband is ready to see Athena so soon."

Artemis thought on it "I must tell Zoe about the return of her freind but no other god shall hear about your return from me, I swear it."

The queen below her looked relived and than shocked, "Zoe still lives? Would you take me to see her?"

"I belive she would be more than happy to see you."

Artemis as the goddess of maidens is able to see that P!Percy is both Penelope and Percy but since Atremis only knows Penelope she'll mostly being using Penelope's name.

I'll also be expanding of Penelope and Zoe's relationship in another post.

Artemis understands just how much chaos a revelation of Percy and Penelope's return could bring to Olympus and since they are in the middle of war preperation they can't afford that right now. And at this point no one (other than Thalia herself) knows Thalia is Clymestra. So she and Zoe and she and P!Percy still have their rivalry's going on for now.

I will be doing another on for Apollo and H!Rachel but this one felt to long already lol

[the-tech-turn]

fanart prompt for EPIC!

either ghost polites holding the infant Ody dropped or Eury from mutiny with his giant sword covering half his face and reflection in the blade is Ody

I’VE HEARD OF THIS BEFORE!! It made me so sad but it was so interesting. I just HAD to draw it!

(Edit: I realized I forgot to add the bloody version, so I put it in)

Tw: (badly drawn) blood

Here’s a short drabble about it!

(Not spell checked)

All he could hear were screams begging to live, desperate to see their families but in the mists of all the chaos, Odysseus heard faint crying in the distance. He recognized it as the tears of a baby. His mind immediately went to Telemachus but as the weeps grew louder Odysseus recognized the child as the infant he had killed. Guilt and regret resurfacing so quickly causes him to panic. His breath quickens, and on instinct, he reaches for his sword. In the middle of the screeches for salvation, he hears a familiar melody.

“This life is amazing when you greet it with open arms.”

“Polites?” The captain whispers.

The sobs of the infant soften as the song continues. He runs to the back of the ship looking over the edge. There he was. His best friend holding the small prince. Polites rocks the precious child calming him with his lullaby. He reaches his hand out wanting his brother to notice him but the soldier is focused on caring for the boy. With tears threatening to fall from his eyes he calls for his brother one last time but to no avail.

Odysseus' heart was overwhelmed by emotions and his mind was filled with questions. The loudest question by far was if he knew he had been the reason the innocent child was in the underworld.

(I won’t be doing this for all of the requests I just felt like doing this)

Request here

Art Prompts

[bleetusmcyeetus]

The Challenge is actually so stobotnik coded I’m gonna explode

[mannythemunchkin]

HERMES DRABBLE

🔞18+ MDNI🔞

TAGS: Smut, p in v, fem!reader, afab!reader x Hermes, porn without plot, drabble, not beta read we die like the crew, the demons needed out, mating press, praise kink of you squint.

WORD COUNT: 480

A/N: OKAY SO, THE HERMES BRAINROT IS ROTTING. He has effectively changed my brain chemistry, and I need him on a carnal level. Enjoy the filth, you heathens. 💛

ART BY XIMENA NATZEL

“H-Hermes~! Oh gods…” 

Hermes had you straddling his thighs, his hands tightly gripping at your waist, almost bruising your skin, as he moved you up and down in his lap. Soft grunts and huffs escaped him as he focused solely on the wet, silken grip around his cock, the light flutter and quiver your inner walls did each time he shoved you down on him. His fingers dug into the supple flesh of your hips as he leaned in close, his tongue traveling up the column of your throat, eliciting the most delicious mewls and moans from you.

He could listen to you like this forever, the sweet sounds of pleasure, your breathy whispers of praise each time he hit that one spot within you that made you see stars and clench so tightly around his aching length. 

“Just like that, sweetheart~ so good to me, aren't you?” Hermes cooed sweetly against your neck, his teeth grazing your pulse point in a feather-light touch, causing your breath to hitch, the steady rhythm of your hips stuttering for a moment, before moving at an even faster pace. You nodded eagerly, and your hands found their way to his hair, your fingers threading through his thick curly locks, before turning into fists to pull his head closer against your neck. “So good, Hermes. You feel so good, so deep~” 

A quiet groan rumbled in Hermes’ throat at your praise, his cock twitching inside you, desperate for release. With a swift movement, he had you on you back, his hands in a bruising grip on your thighs as he used his full bodyweight to press you into the meanest mating press of your life. He pistoned into you, his movements erratic and desperate as he chased your mutual release. He dipped his head down between your knees, which he had pressed almost fully against your shoulders, and he left sloppy, open-mouthed kisses along the valley of your breasts, his teeth and tongue working over your hardened nipples to drive you off the edge. “Cum for me, darling. Show me how much you want me, hm?” Hermes rasped against your skin, tugging harshly at your nipple for emphasis, before angling his thrusts, making the tip of his cock brush against your g-spot with every motion of his hips. 

A strangled cry left you, and he felt your orgasm wash over you, your silken cunt clenching and quivering around him in sweet bliss. It didn't take more than a few more thrusts before he snapped himself as deep as possible with a throaty groan of your name, spilling himself deep inside you. Hermes thrust a few more times, riding out both of your orgasms while muttering sweet praises and endearments against your chest, up your neck. He stared down at you, his silvery eyes cloudy from pleasure and his lips quirked in a satisfied half-smirk. 

[witless-winion1]

Me: I’m gonna write a self-indulgent, fluffy lil drabble

Google: A drabble is about 100 words or less

Me, an hour and three minutes later, holding a Notes doc with 1,035 words: whoopsies

ANYWAY

Penelope sighed softly as she traced the wet cloth over her son’s face, gently wiping away the sweat gathered on his young brow as he twisted under the branches of his parent’s wedding bed. 

“Shhhh,” she soothed, cupping his face as he moaned, face twitching. “It’s alright. I’m here…”

With another soft, hoarse hum, his eyes fluttered open. His eyes were glossy and uncharacteristically shadowed, still fearful from the nightmare. 

“Mom…” he mumbled raspily, his fingers twitching out towards her. Wanting her closer.

“Shhhh. I’m right here.” Penelope set the cloth aside and stood from the chair and settled in beside him, her back meeting the familiar wood of the olive tree. “It’s alright, little wolf. I’m right here.” 

Telemachus reached out, curling up by her and hugging her, lying across her lap and in her arms just as his father used to. Just as Penelope longed to again, hopefully soon. The war had been raging for eight years now, and day by day she refused to let her hope diminish. Odysseus would return to her and Telemachus. Her husband was too brilliant and too full of wit and love not to. 

Penelope stroked her fingers over her son’s hair, messy and sweaty from fever. The healer had checked him out and given good odds that he’d be fine with some care; he was a strong, healthy young boy, after all. Penelope still wanted to stay by his side, though. 

Telemachus’s eyes fluttered closed once more, relaxing under the warm touch. Another weak moan left him, as he shivered under the blankets. Penelope rubbed his shoulder with her other hand, watching him and silently praying to Asclepius to ease her son’s suffering. 

A soft whine drew her attention; not from Telemachus, but a familiar whimper of a dog. Penelope lifted her head to see a brown snout poking up at the end of the bed. 

The queen shook her head and sighed. The maids will change the sheets later anyways…

She whistled softly, patting the bed beside her son. Telemachus shifted, confused, but his eyes opened again as his favorite pup backed up into view, got a running start, and still barely managed to clear the bed’s top. The hunting dog immediately trotted across the blankets to the prince, sniffing at his ill master. 

“Argos,” Telemachus croaked, reaching up to pat the canine. “‘m okay, boy, lie down…”

Argos continued to nuzzle the prince, whining softly in concern, so Penelope just rolled her eyes and said in a much firmer voice that Telemachus never wanted to use on Argos: “Lay down.”

Argos gave her pleading puppy eyes, but after meeting her stern royal gaze, he obediently curled up by Telemachus’s side, snuggling into his boy. Telemachus patted his fur, his shaky hand coming to rest on the dog’s neck. 

There was a long, still silence for a while, as Penelope could feel her son- and, with begrudging acceptance, his dog, who at least seemed to be comforting him- resting their weary heads on her lap and legs. 

Telemachus’ breathing was tired and a bit wheezy, but Penelope trusted that he would be alright, just ran her hands through his hair like she had done with his father to calm him. But he seemed to be having a harder time falling asleep again, shifting and coughing occasionally. After a while, his soft, rough voice piped up. 

“Mama?”

Penelope’s lips were touched by the faintest smile; she thought he’d grown out of calling her that. “Yes, my dear?”

Telemachus leaned deeper into her caress. “Are..are there any stories a..about Dad that you haven’t told me..?” 

Penelope’s smile grew. This boy never tired of hearing about his father, relishing every story he could get from Penelope, his Aunt Ctimene, Eurycleia, his grandparents, anyone. It was endearing, and Penelope loved to refresh her memories, watching her son grin with each detail about his estranged father. 

“Hmmm…” Penelope hummed. “Have I ever told you about what he was like with you when you were a baby, before he left for war?”

That earned a groggy hum of interest from her son, which she took as a no. “Well, you see,” she began, smiling down as her son’s  fever-dulled eyes brightened. “When you were first born, he was so happy to meet you; he was crying tears of joy. He cried so hard, in fact, that he passed out from dehydration. Your aunt Ctimene took you from his stubborn hands hardly a second before he collapsed, and his friend Polites had to catch him.” 

Telemachus let out a little laugh, broken up by soft coughs, but he was clearly eager for more, so she continued. “And once he could hold you without nearly drowning you in tears, he very rarely put you down. He loved holding you; you almost didn’t want to sleep in your own crib. We often joked you would perhaps sleep better if Odysseus carved the crib to feel like his arms. But he wouldn’t want to put you down long enough to carve it!” Penelope gently poked his head as his giggles increased. 

“…I wish I could remember what his arms felt like,” Telemachus whispered, head bowing under her long fingers. 

Penelope’s smile faltered for a second, but it returned as she squeezed his shoulder. “You will know someday,” she promised softly. “They feel wonderful. Strong and warm and with an abundance of love.”

Telemachus was quiet, for so long that Penelope wondered if he had fallen asleep, before he murmured, “I can’t wait…”

She sighed softly. “Neither can I, my dear. We shall wait together for his return….perhaps the time will pass a bit faster if you sleep, hmm?”

The young prince gave a weak nod, head growing heavier in her lap. “M..more stories..?”

Penelope leaned back a little more into the olive tree, the wood still strong and healthy. “Hmm. Well, you know how our marriage bed is made from the olive tree where we first met..? Your father is a brilliant carver. You know the little figurines you have in your room, the sirens and the cyclopes, the giants…harpies, chimeras, the Minotaurs…even Cerberus. I think he got a little carried away with that one…”

[imtrashraccoon]

This is actually the longest chapter yet, somehow?? I think I just got really into it. What can I say, I like writing little character introspections.

@owl-bones

First, Previous, & Next Day

Bad Sansuary II: Dust - Restrained

Word Count: 2,094

While you had been able to run away, you knew the guards would catch up to you eventually. They knew what you looked like and, because you were an obvious outsider, would soon track you down to the tavern. You hadn't encountered any other dog monsters in the city either and even if you had, once news spread, no one would be willing to hide you. The other problem was that you had a feeling getting out of the city would prove impossible.

So what should you do?

This was the first time you had had a run in with the law. You had looked up to soldiers your whole life, believing they served an important role in keeping order, and for a time you did your best to do the same. Ever since choosing to abandon the Klasical Kingdom and stay with your soulmate, you knew you would eventually end up in a sticky situation like this. You knew your comrades weren't good people and, by choosing to align yourself with them, neither were you at this point. This new reality was difficult to come to terms with, but now wasn't the time to contemplate such things.

Using natural handholds, you hauled yourself up another wall and then up to an overhang. After resting for a moment, you climbed onto the roof of the building, finding yourself across the street from the tavern. You could even see your room's window that you and Reven had climbed out of earlier.

For a moment, you stood there under the open sky, staring at the building. The rain had picked up again and your armour was soaked, but you barely registered it. The mission was a bust. You hadn't learned what was going on with the weird eye symbol and now Reven had been arrested. If he hadn't resisted too much, there was a good chance the guards would keep him alive while they looked for you, but after that, his fate would be a grim one.

The punishment for murder was death. Some kingdoms had different methods for how the death penalty would be carried out, but the result was always the same. It didn't matter if the guards knew just how many murders Reven was responsible for or not. When the guards caught up to you, they would probably charge you with accessory to murder which, while generally considered a less serious offense, would likely mean execution for you as well.

You sighed and ran your fingers through your sopping wet fur. You had two equally difficult choices. Either you could hide until they eventually found and dragged you off to jail, or attempt to rescue Reven and restore your honour. There was a high chance you would die no matter what you chose, but to you, the right thing to do was obvious. It was far better to fall in battle than to die a coward's death in a futile attempt to change your fate.

You returned to your room long enough to gather up whatever gear you had left behind, namely your rucksack and your bow. They would have gotten in the way so you hadn't been bringing them along on your nightly escapades. Besides, if you couldn't see your target in the dark, you certainly weren't going to hit it.

You picked up the sound of footsteps and raised voices downstairs as you were slipping back out the window. It looked like you had just managed to get out in time. While it might have been entertaining to wait around and watch their reactions to finding the room empty, you knew better and decided to make yourself scarce.

After making sure you were a safe distance away, you crouched down on a roof to figure out your next move. You would need to figure out where Reven had been taken, but you also knew that the longer you waited, the harder it would be to rescue him. Even if you knew where he was, going in now would likely also prove to be a bad idea as it would be swarming with guards. It seemed you would have to handle this situation with the utmost care if you wanted to have any chance at succeeding.

~ ≈ V^ᴥ^V ≈ ~

You watched a guard exit the barracks, silently counting the seconds as they walked away. You were perched on a roof where you had a clear view of the door but still out of sight from the street. From what you had observed, word had spread pretty quickly among the soldiers and they were out in full force searching for you. Luckily, they weren't expecting you to be here and were out scouring the city.

You had been here for a few hours now, just observing and memorizing their movements. Your keen ears had picked up a few snippets of conversations between a few of the guards about "a crazy paladin" so you were confident you had found where they were holding him.

After a few seconds, you dropped down next to the door and carefully turned the knob, finding it unlocked. With a quick glance around, you crept inside the building, closing the door behind you again.

The room seemed like an office of sorts but thankfully there wasn't anyone in sight. There was a desk with some papers and what looked like a book for record keeping. You also noticed a few rough wooden benches against one of the walls and two doors, one behind the desk and one near the benches.

The door near the benches was more heavily reinforced and you surmised that it led to the dungeon. Unfortunately, it was locked but you found a key hidden in one of the desk drawers that thankfully fit in the keyhole. You figured it must have been a spare for when whoever owned the desk was away.

Beyond the heavy door was a set of stairs going down. Pocketing the key, you took a deep breath before beginning to descend into the dungeon. You kept low, being careful not to scuff your paws on the stonework and give yourself away.

The deeper you went, the more obvious it was that you were in the right place. The air smelled stale with a hint of blood and other bodily fluids, and occasionally, you could hear the sound of metal on metal, like chains being rattled. You couldn't hear much movement though, so there was a good chance the guards were still away.

You reached the bottom of the stairs and carefully examined your surroundings. The only light was from a nearby lantern hanging from a nail and a flickering candle in a room off to the side. Slowly, you crept forward, peering around the corner.

There was a man lounging in a chair facing away from the door. He was wearing a similar uniform to the guards but lacking the helmet, which you noticed sitting on the table in front of him along with an opened bottle of spirits. You were debating whether you should just sneak past, when you noticed a ring of keys on his belt that presumably would open up the cells.

Drawing your dagger, you tiptoed forward until you were right behind the jailor. In one fluid motion, you covered his mouth with one paw and slit his throat with your weapon. While you couldn't help but silently revel for a moment in the small burst of energy from absorbing his EXP, you knew you had limited time before someone came to check on things. Carefully, you propped the man's head up so it would appear as if he was asleep and swiped the keys.

Now you just needed to find Reven.

There was only one other prisoner, but they seemed to be asleep or maybe too out of it to care what you were doing. Maybe if they had noticed, you would have been willing to let them loose as well, but as it stood, you couldn't afford to have any extra liabilities.

Reven was chained up to the wall by his wrists in the farthest cell. His gear was gone, leaving him in a pair of tattered pants with his upper half on full display. His bones were littered with small cracks and scrapes, several of which were leaking small amounts of dust, but you noticed there were several older scars across his ribcage as well.

Despite your best efforts, the keys clinked together as you fiddled with the lock, but Reven only looked up when you managed to get the door open. At first, he just stared at you, as if he didn't believe what he was seeing was even real. Only when you hurried to his side and started working on the wrist irons suspending him, did he even attempt to say anything.

"you shouldn't have come..."

After unlocking his restraints, you pried open the metal bands, letting him ease himself down onto the stone floor. He was weak and you didn't even want to imagine what he had gone through in the hours since being captured.

"...i deserve what comes next," he muttered, slumping against the wall.

You shook your head. "No, don't give me any of that. You're a valuable member of the team and I'm not about to abandon you, no matter whether you think you're worth saving or not."

He stared at you, a mixture of disbelief and shock in his eyelights. His gaze briefly flicked to your left, focusing on something unseen and he mouthed a few words under his breath, but you couldn't understand what he was saying.

You could tell he was in no shape to run and you didn't know any healing spells. Then you remembered that you had packed a health potion before entering the city, just in case something happened. You quickly fished the small vial out of your rucksack and pressed it into Reven's hand.

"It's not much, but we're going to need to move quickly and I can't carry you the entire time."

He blinked, as if he'd been shocked back to reality, before popping off the cork and downing the potion in a single gulp. The effect was immediate and most of the cracks across his bones began to close, although the old scars remained untouched.

"why do you care so much?" He rubbed at his eye sockets before adding, "i thought i made it clear from day one that i didn't like you..."

You nodded, "Oh I know." Holding out your hand, you smiled at him and added, "I don't need to be friends with you, just knowing you have my back is enough in my eyes."

He grasped your hand and you helped him to his feet. When he stumbled, you quickly moved to support his weight, wrapping your arm around his shoulder blades.

"i'm surprised you trust me not to stab you the moment you turn around..." he murmured.

You clicked your tongue, slowly helping him out of the cell. "When I served under Captain Undyne, we had a saying. It went like, 'No one gets left behind.' While I no longer take orders from her, I still follow that rule." You paused for a moment before adding, "If I didn't trust you, I wouldn't have even left the Dark Fortress, let alone snuck into a city with you."

Reven said nothing.

By the time you reached the jailor's room again, he had gained back enough strength to walk on his own, but you still stayed close by just in case. Thankfully, his gear was still stashed away in a chest meant for prisoner possessions and nothing seemed to be missing. You stood guard at the entrance while he donned his armour again.

"Any chance you could teleport both of us out of the city?" you asked when he finished.

"i wish." He huffed and shook his head. "i'm pretty low on mana, but i think i could do it over a short distance, like through the gate."

You sighed and ran a paw down your face. "I was afraid of that... I guess we'll have to get there first, huh?"

Reven chuckled and started to climb the stairs. He glanced back at you over his shoulder, a manic grin stretched across his skull. "if you still trust me after this, i'll buy the first round next time we're in a proper tavern."

"Not if I have to carry you out in pieces, you sorry sack of bones," you responded with a snort.