#FA: Dragon Age: The Eternal Flame | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

undatablebracket · 1 year ago

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OUTDATED POST

Last updated 8/18/23, please check the bracket posts for the most up-to-date competitor list.

Sorted alphabetically by game for easy searching.

These are (almost) all of the bracket participants! There are a few who are still up in the air. Please do not get upset with me if your blorbo did not qualify; I did my best to research each game I was unfamiliar with. The most common reason for a character to be disqualified was being from a game without any romance at all.

Note that some of these may be removed, as my attempts at research may not have been sufficient.

Madoka Aoyagi from Aokana Four Rhythms Across the Blue

Reiko Satou from Aokana Four Rhythms Across the Blue

Nahara from The Arcana

Nazali from The Arcana

Nasmira from The Arcana

Natiqa from The Arcana

Brasidas from Assassin's Creed: Odyssey

Soma Jarlskona from Assassin's Creed: Valhalla

Alfira from Baldur's Gate 3

Volo from Baldur's Gate 3

Mallory from Black Closet

oniontheif from Blooming Panic: Full Bloom Edition

Mossie from Cattails

Guinevere from Code: Realize

Kotoho Sakuragawa from collar x malice

Antonio from Coral Island

Helene Leventis from Crown and the Flame - Choices (mobile app)

Owen Herriot from Cupid Parasite

Viktor Vector from Cyberpunk 2077

Johnny Silverhand from Cyberpunk 2077

Goro Takemura from Cyberpunk 2077

Mayor Mingus from Dialtown

Jerry from Dialtown

Pierre from Dialtown

Monika from Doki Doki Literature Club

The Arishok from Dragon Age 2

Varric Tethras from Dragon Age 2

Avaline Vallen from Dragon Age 2

Vivienne de Fer from Dragon Age Inquisition

Cole from Dragon Age Inquisiton

Scout Lace Harding from Dragon Age: Inquisition

Cremisius "Krem" Aclassi from Dragon Age: Inquisition

Sten from Dragon Age: Origins

Quizzmaster Quinn from Dream Daddy

Morgott the Grace-Given from Elden Ring

Matthew Gursky from Emily is Away

Magnolia from Fallout 4

Nick Valentine from Fallout 4

Phila from Fire Emblem Awakening

The Gatekeeper from Fire Emblem: Three Houses

Hypnos from Hades

Orpheus and Eurydice from Hades

Chaos from Hades

Charon from Hades

Sisyphus from Hades

Alecto from Hades

Azami Koshiba from Hatoful Boyfriend

Blanc Lapin from Ikemen Revolution

Lyla Park from Life is Strange 2

Kyousuke Natsume from Little Busters!

Javik from Mass Effect

Urdnot Wrex from Mass Effect

Zaeed Massani from Mass Effect

Mordin Solus from Mass Effect 2 & 3

The Illusive Man from Mass Effect 2 + 3

Samara from Mass Effect 2, Mass Effect 3

Evfra de Tershaav from Mass Effect Andromeda

Zevin Raeka from Mass Effect Andromeda

Jeff "Joker" Moreau from Mass Effect trilogy

Moss Mann from Monster camp

Gerard from Monster Camp and Monster Roadtrip

Tate from Monster Prom

Sadie from Monster Prom 3: Road Trip and Monster Prom 2: Camp

Jerry the Murderer from Monster Prom series

Mali from My Time at Portia

Jaehee Kang from Mystic Messenger

Vanderwood from Mystic Messenger

Shinbi from Nameless (the one thing you must recall)

Soi from Nameless (the one thing you must recall)

Thirteen from Obey Me! One Master to Rule Them All

Aurora Emery from Open Heart - Choices

Jeremy King from Our Life: Beginning & Always

Miranda from Our Life: Beginnings & Always

Terry from Our Life: Beginnings & Always

Rio Iwasaki from Persona 3 Portable

Junpei Iori from Persona 3 Portable

Yosuke Hanamura from Persona 4

Kanji Tatsumi from Persona 4

Goro Akechi from Persona 5

Yusuke Kitagawa from Persona 5

Ryūji Sakamoto from Persona 5

Eothas from Pillars of Eternity II: Deadfire

Grim from Romancelvania

Gaius from Rune Factory 3

Illuminata from Rune Factory 4

Porcoline Tulle De Saint-Coquille from rune factory 4

Ventuswill from Rune Factory 4

Lin Fa from Rune Factory 4

Volkanon from Rune Factory 4

Terry from Rune Factory 5

Malix from Seduce Me the Otome

Halek Prince from Shepherds of Haven

Bao-Dur from Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic II: The Sith Lords

Clint from Stardew ValleyGus from Stardew Valley

Jodi from Stardew Valley

Kent from Stardew Valley

Krobus from Stardew Valley

Linus from Stardew Valley

Marnie from Stardew Valley

Mayor Lewis from Stardew Valley

Sandy from Stardew Valley

Robin from Stardew Valley

The Wizard (aka. M. Rasmodius) from Stardew Valley

Clemens from Story of Seasons Pioneers of Olive Town

Jacopo from Story of Seasons Pioneers of Olive Town

Karina from Story of Seasons Pioneers of Olive Town

Flora from Story of Seasons: A Wonderful Life

Lars from Story of Seasons Pioneers of Olive Town

Brynjolf from The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim

Cicero from The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim

Erandur from The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim

Faendal from The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim

Hadvar from The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim

J'zargo from The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim

Miraak from The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim

Seranna from The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim

Teldryn Sero from The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim

Ondolemar from The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim

Olivia Vanderwall Nevrakis from The Royal Romance - Choices

Iorveth from The Witcher 2

Vernon Roche from The Witcher 2

Julian Alfred Pankratz (Dandelion/Jaskier) from The Witcher 3

Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy from The Witcher 3

Karen Hanatsubaki from Tokimeki Memorial Girl's Side 3

Arihiko Inui from Tsukihime

Yumizuka Satsuki from Tsukihime

Alicia Rosales from XOXO Droplets

#undatable bracket #unromancable bracket #wrangler.txt #bracket info

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aelin-the-miqote-blog · 7 years ago

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Life before the Knights

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WARNING! THIS POST CONTAINS 18+ CONTENT! ALSO CONTAINS POSSIBLE TRIGGERS! BY READING THIS YOU ACKNOWLEDGE THIS WARNING AND WAVER THE RIGHT TO WHINE, MOAN, BITCH OR FLAME!

Please Enjoy the Story of Aelin the Miqo’te :3

[This story is told in the First Person Narrative style]

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The light splashing sound from the fountain in mine and Kah’li’s room mixed with the cozy warmth from the fire comforts me as I rest on the couch in the lounge area. My back propped against the plush pillow in the bend of the furniture and a leg bent upwards while the other juts straight out. My hands cradle a fresh cup of Peppermint tea with a little added honey to help me drift to sleep. But sleep wont come tonight. No.

I just returned from my trip to Coerthas to see my twin brother, Rowan. Taller than me and well muscled, he has always had physical prowess that pulled others to him. Somehow that landed him with a group of fighters that made camp there. And yes, some women as well. He never was lacking in female attention and as innocent as he acts I know he has bedded many. Not that it is an issue, but I find it rather funny he denies it despite how often I had the. . .unfortunate luck of finding evidence on accident trying to get his rutting arse up.

While there we decided to go to the nearest town and stop by the local tavern, or whatever they called it, for some drinks. Dragon something or other. Anyway, we started off talking about those in the room. Who was ready to bite the brick floor, who was hopelessly outclassed by the woman they were trying to bed and who looked most scared or lost. After that we somehow got on the topic of events that transpired while we were apart, and in turn, the last time Rowan saw me. That was when it hit.

Those wretched memories came flooding back. It was all I could do but run outside so as not to unhave my dinner in the building. The memories were overwhelming and all the emotions hit at once so hard it made me sick. After that Rowan took me back to the camp and I laid down. Much like now, however, sleep would not visit me that night.

So here I sit. My mate off doing his thing while I battle with these memories. Probably for the best, I am not good company when I am struggling with emotions.

I remember so well now the events from after my slavery. And looking back now I see how miserable I was, but at the time I was completely happy. Up until the end. . .and it all begins to play out in my mind once more.

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-Freedom is Trading one form of shackles for another-

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The clinking of many shackles fills the air accompanied by whips cracking in the air, shouts of angry men holding said whips and the anguished cries of the other slaves in the same or worse condition as me. I was lucky, I suppose. The overseer must have been in a good mood because he only had me whipped twenty times.

They ripped the back of my shirt open and whipped me, and for what? I gave my food to another slave that had not eaten in two days. Kindness is the quickest way to hell, one would say.

Right after the whipping they had a healer come and bandage my wounds. No magic for it. We were forced to heal the slow way as a reminder that we have no power. That we are nothing.

That was two days ago, and now I slowly trudge off the boat to some port lined with slaves, overseers and mercenaries as hired guards to protect the shipmaster’s goods.

Turing my head to the left I can see the first rays of light peaking out over the horizon of the sea casting a grey light over the land. A mist hugs port and clings to everything while freezing you to the core. At least it made my back hurt less. .

Apparently we were one of the first to arrive and bidding for us slaves was not set to start until the sun reached its peak, so they had us sit in the cells and wait for it to start. Which would not have been bad if they had not stuffed us into them to the point we could not move. With the bodies pressing together it did warm us up, but unfortunately it also reopened one of my wounds on my back, and I could feel the blood run down my body.

“Hide that, girl. Er else ya won’ be seein’ the day.” Another slave whispers to me. I do my best to look back at him, and I see the older Miqo’te S’harrav. He was one of the few that regularly spoke with me and was also responsible for mending many of my wounds.

I rip a piece of my shirt off from the front and try to reach back to place it on the open wound. “I. . .I. Cannot. Reach.” I whimper. The thought of being rejected at the auctions scared me. Slaves that couldn’t be sold were lined up and executed. Death terrified me. As a slave you tend to see many die from starvation or succumbing to infected wounds. But execution was far more morbid in my mind. . .

“Give tha’ ta me.” He says, snatching it and gently dabbing at the wound. “Yer lucky. Yer blood clotted fas’ enough ta keep et from bleedin long.” I continue to whimper and close my eyes.

“How often do slaves not get bought.” I say, my soft voice quivering. A sigh from S’harrav.

“Ofen enough tha’ no ‘elp will come.” My blood ran cold and I began to shake. He laid a comforting hand on my shoulder but it did little to dissipate the chill running through my core; my very being.

The seconds felt like hours, the hours days. I thought that maybe the auction had been delayed, or even cancelled, and that we would be stuck here all night until quite a few guard stomped into the holding cell room and began shouting and screaming orders.

Cell by cell they cleared us out, and I do not know if it was luck or if the people around me were helping me, but nobody jostled me to aggravate my back. A small blessing in a hellish place like this. The only one of the morning, because despite everyone trying to hurry and do as we were told, several slaves were not able to keep up, and they were executed on the spot.

After we were all lined up, one slave tried to make a run for it. He got all of ten steps before a large man slammed him to the ground. At that moment we all knew that he was going to be used as an example. And an example they made him as he was given a very slow and painful death.

“Ruttin’ ‘ells, these monsters know no mercy.” S’harrav whispers to me.

“What does rutting hells mean?” I ask him quietly, trying to avoid talking about what we just witnessed.

“Ah, uh, well less jus’ say isa way adults say. . .ne’ermin’ tha’.” He trails off. I scowl at him and he returns the gesture and sticks his tongue out. I reach out quickly to try and grab his tongue but he retracts it too fast. He smirks at me and I fold my arms with a “Harump.”

Several hours later the auctions are well underway, and a lot of slaves are bought up quick. The bigger and stronger ones likely for fighting, guards of some kind or for breeding. The prettier females of age most likely for breeding or house work. Some of the young ones may have been bought for deckhands or something of the likes. None of the old were bought, the ones too wounded to work, or to sick, or ones with deformities. There was only one Lalafel, and he was bawling his eyes out. Especially when all on his ship were sold and he was the only one left. They took him away, and that was it.

As the auction came to my lot I began to shake again. With my injuries I cannot do hard labor until I am healed, and I am not that strong. I am far from pretty and too old for childs work. The odds are very against me. .

The bidding goes on, the strongest or prettiest going first and foremost. Then came the others who were likely capable of various household tasks. As it neared the end, my fear became debilitating. I could hardly breathe, I could hardly think. There was only me and three others. All of which were injured.

A man approached the four of us and inspected us closely. “Shit!” I think to myself. He spots a bone on one young man that failed to heal properly and shakes his head. That was hard for even me to spot, and I have fairly keen eyesight as well as hearing. The young man paled, as this man was the last one at the auction. We locked eyes for a moment as the guards grabbed him and I saw my own fear reflected in his hazel eyes. An Elezan that will never see another day. Hardly older than me and his life is ended before it began.

The man stops before me, and it takes everything I have to hold my ground and attempt to look up at him defiantly. “If I am going to die, I will not die a coward!” I think to myself. And as if he could hear me, he chuckles.

“This one has spirit.” He says to a female behind him. She grins in a way that makes the hair on my neck rise.

“She does seem to have a certain charm.” The female replies. Neither of them have accents, yet they’re both Miqo’te as well. Did they belong to a clan?

He moves behind me and stops. I can hear him let out a “Hmm” as he inspects my back. I hear a slight rustle, then I can feel his calloused fingers brush against my back and i muffle a gasp. Only no pain comes. No prodding the hurt areas, no smacking, nothing to cause more pain. He is surprisingly gentle as his fingers trace along the outsides of the wounds.

“These are pretty fresh. How old are they, might I ask?” He says with an unnerving softness. I gulp.

“T-t-two days.” I stammer. “Damn it, get it together or you are going to die!”

“Hmm, and yet, here you stand.” He says thoughtfully. After another moment he goes to the auctioneer and they exchange words.

“I am dead. I am dead, I am dead I am so dead. .” I repeat that over and over and over. My legs are weak and shaking and my palms are growing clammy. “If he does not buy me, then I will take my chances and attempt to escape. They would not dare torture me in front of buyers.”

Finally, after what seems like an eternity, the man hands a sack of coins to the auctioneer and then tips his hat before turning back to me. The thudding of his boots hammer into the wood of the stand to match the racing of my heart.

“Do you have a name?” He says, squatting down and pulling out a key to unshackle my wrists and arms. I blink at him, dumbfounded.

“The poor thing must be traumatized.” The female behind him says sweetly. A snake, that is what she reminds me of.

For the first time I took a good look at both of them. Neither were hard on the eyes, nor did they look like they were bad off. The female was graced with generous curves, for Miqo’te standards. And the male was well muscled, showing it off with his sleeveless top. It also showed many scars lining his tanned torso. Her equally tanned skin looked flawless.

She had a more rounded out face with soft set eyes, full lips and a smaller nose. Her eyes were a hazel color and her hair was tied back into a tail on her head. He had a more male looking face with a harder set jawline, a bit of a larger nose and rich brown eyes with shaggy hair. Both were sporting Sabers at their waists but that was as close to a pirate as they looked.

A sharp whistle jolts me out of my thoughts and I look at the man who was waving a few more men over. They carried something between them. With a closer look I saw that two men were holding onto poles that had a soft looking cloth stretched between them. They set it down before me and the man that I could only guess the leader motioned for me to get on it.

“Lie down and they will carry you to our camp. Cannot have you opening those wounds up again on the trip back now can we.” He winks. I square my shoulder and look him in the eye.

“I can walk.” I say meekly. They all laugh and I feel my face grow hot.

“I am sure you can, sweetheart,” He says it with a sarcastic bite behind it, “but we both know it will not take much to open that wound. And judging by the lack of color in your skin you do not have much blood to spare for your pride. Now, lie down on your stomach carefully and let them carry you. It is a long walk.”

We stare at each other for a moment, and amusement dances in his eyes. Finally I submit and careful and silent as possible I do as instructed. He did technically save me from a sure death, and he has not stuck or whipped me yet, so I owe him as much. What I did not count for, was how exhausted I was. The moment I laid down I fell asleep. For once, there was no screaming in pain, no crying, no whips and no chains to be heard. Just the sound of footsteps, the wind and my own breath. A dreamless sleep enveloped me in its warm embrace.

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- The Price of Freedom -

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My first month with my new owner proved to be far better than I could have hoped.

Once they packed their little camp up after the auction they set out to their ship. A few days resting on the ship proved to be very needed, and for the first time in a year I was able to look at myself in a mirror. Gaunt, skin and bones, pale and filthy. If I ever looked pretty, nobody would have ever known with how terrible I looked. But after they had a few of the female crew help me bathe, get into clean clothing with my wounds properly dressed and then fed, I started to look and feel more like a living being.

After we made port in a warm climate port we set out into a jungle. They still had to carry me, but I could at least sit up and stay conscious. I quickly befriended a few of the crew that tended to me. I was surprised at how normal they were despite how armed and dangerous they looked. And when I told them as much the one I have come to call Skipper, mostly because he was able to get a rock to skip on water quite a bit, launched into quite the fit of boisterous laughter. Which became contagious and I started to laugh as well, and that led to much of the company we held following suit. I was not sure, but I swear the man that bought me looked back and I saw joy on his face. But the female pulled his attention away quick by pointing at something on a paper.

Several months later I am at their main encampment and have been established as a servant, yet not a servant. I am required to do various tasks but I am never beaten, never whipped nor locked up and yelled at.In fact, it is almost like I am valued. Many of their crew talk with me as if I am one of them, and after some time they offer to train me with weapons. Their reason is in the line of work they do if you cannot fight you will die. I am still terrified of death. So I accept.

First they trained me with fighting knives. My size and speed made up for the lack of muscle. I lost count how many times I cut myself, dropped a dagger during a technique or the dagger went flying when I actually struck something. It was not a fast process to teach me, and it took quite a few months for me to build enough strength in my hands to be able to use them. But apparently I picked it up fairly quick. So next was swords. Then Pikes and Halberds. After almost two years I was decent at enough weapons and hand to hand combat to hold my own. I was in no way the most skilled, but apparently that was never the intent.

I was practicing swordplay with Skipper when the couple in charge showed up. The male was named Braylax, and the female was named O’hagrith.

“How she doing, Skip?” Braylax asks skipper. I cannot help smirking at the irritation that my nickname has still stuck for everyone.

“Lass has speed. Given time she could best any o’ us.” Skipper replies, sheathing his weapon and wiping some sweat off his face. I do the same and fan my shirt out to help cool me down. The jungle was hot and muggy so naturally exerting yourself will make you sweat.

“Good, then it is time for her to start earning her keep.” The way Braylax smiled set the hairs on my neck rising. He motions for me to follow and I look to Skipper, who nods but I can see the concern in his eyes. Tentatively I follow.

He leads me to a building in the back, one I have been told many times never to enter. Yet today he is leading me in there. The closer I get the more unnerved I become. The coppery tang of blood is in the air and I can smell something very unpleasant that I smelled many times as a slave. Infection. Braylax and O’hagrith stop at the door and he turns to me.

“No matter what you see in here, do not show weakness. Keep your face blank and never let your eyes lock with his. He will try to plead and beg but the man is very bad.” The tone in his voice was dark and malicious. This was a different Braylax than what I have seen since he bought me. I nod and swallow hard. He pats my head and I swat at his hand. He knows I hate that.

Once we enter the room the smell gets much worse, along with the scent of someone who soiled themselves many times over. And in the center of the dark room was a man tied to a chair. A Highlander. His face was beaten pretty bad and was colored yellows and blues and black. I could tell that his right shoulder was dislocated by the way it seemed to sag, and every finger was beyond repair, even with magic. The left arm was broken in many places, one of which the bone pierced the skin. His torso was riddled with cuts, chunks of skin missing or burned off, and his lower body was no better. It took everything I had to not heave on the floor right there. I forced a blank, almost bored, look on my face and walked steadily with the other two.

“Now, where were we?” O’hagrith coos, walking past the man while running her fingers across various weapons and tools of a cruel design.

“Hmm, I believe we were just about to get the piece of the puzzle from him as to where the stash is. Was that not right, friend?” Braylax says, walking behind the man and slamming his hands down on the Highlanders shoulders with a squeeze. The man cries out in pain and sobs.

“I dont know where it is! I swear to you! They wouldn’t tell me because I’m just the Guard Captain! Please!” He looks frantically from Braylax, to O’hagrith, then to me. I keep my eyes focused on Braylax, but I can see the fear in his face out of the corner of my eye.

“That is a pity, I would have convinced my partner here to spare you.” Braylax growls lightly and motions. . .to me. He intends for me to kill the man. My mask slips as shock becomes evident on my face. “Come now. You did not think that I would bring you in here just to watch did you?” He chuckles. O’hagrith tosses a dagger to me, then folds her arms and sits against the table.

“Do try and keep the blood from spraying everywhere. I would hate to get any on me and have to bathe again.” O’hagrith grins, tossing a look Braylax’s way, who just tsks at her. The lust between those two was as obvious as daylight.

I look down at the blade and blink. They want me to kill someone? Me? I have never harmed anyone else in my life and now they hand me a dagger and say to kill someone I do not know.

“If it helps,” Braylax chimes in, “this man is the Guard Captain for the Slave Master that owned you. He is the one who ordered the death of your friends, including S’harrav.”

My world seems to stop moving as I stare at the man. The one that is supposedly responsible for the death of one of my few friends in that hellish time that took care of me when I was too weak or hurt to move. That kind soul, with much left to give to the world, the first person I cared about since being captured. Gone. No one to remember him, no family to carry on. No, I remember him.

“You. .” I hiss, and my lip curls back in a snarl. “You k-killed him?” His eyes widen.

“P-please! I w-was just doing what I was told!” His voice fades out, the entire world fades out as the anger rises in the pit of my core. And somewhere deep inside, my heart was breaking. S’harrav, who gave so much for me. Gave me warmth in the coldest of nights, company on the loneliest days, a laugh on the most hopeless. And because of this man, his eyes would never open. His voice would never soothe my pained heart. His laugh would never lighten the world again.

Just like that, the control snaps and I lunged at him, driving my blade into his chest as our eyes meet. A growl rips from my throat and I can see the fear and pain as I twist the blade. Then my body starts to move on its own, and pulls the blade out only to jam it into him again. And again. And again. Then as I see him start to weaken, my hand lashes out with the dagger and cuts his neck wide open.

I stand there, unaware of much until Braylax slowly and carefully takes the dagger from my hand.

“Well, that was unexpected.” He says lightly. I snap my gaze to him and I swear he flinched when he looked at me. But slowly control came back and the heat running through my blood cooled. Suddenly I became aware of something on my face and neck, and I reach a shaky hand up to wipe it off to find it covered in blood. His blood. Blood I spilled in rage. Everything begins to darken around the edges of my vision and I look at Braylax, who had apparently moved to the other side of the room and was now rushing towards me as the world tipped and faded. As the light in the world faded, the burning fire in my heart that kept me going for so long, kept me true to who I was, flickered and went out.

Over the next few months Braylax had me join them in that room many times over. Sometimes to just observe tactics to get information, other times to inflict pain, and then of course I was the executioner as well. Everything seemed to be muted to me though. I felt no anger, no sadness and no regret. S’harrav was gone. Rowan was gone. The very few people I truly cared for are gone. It was just me now. Alone in a world of snakes and wolves. If I wanted to live, I would have to become one of them.

So I became a wolf. I began to perfect methods of extracting information from people. I could inflict a lot of pain without doing too much damage. There were ways to make someone hurt without cuts or breaking, and I utilized those often well enough. Heated blades, poisons, blades, hooks and needles. These were part of my arsenal as I started to become a master of interrogation. And with each passing day, the girl I was when they first brought me in was being devoured by the monster I was slowly becoming. I felt no sympathy. Felt no remorse.

Eventually I became the most lethal killer in the encampment. Word spread to the others quickly that I had become Braylax’s new favorite, and his new favorite seemed to revel in her ability to kill slowly and very painfully. It earned me the freedom to do what I want when I wanted.

I started to wear more and more black. If the others were going to be scared of me, I was going to milk it. Black attire, and I colored my hair black as a moonless night sky with a bandanna to cover from my nose down. Night incarnate. Death. That was what I wanted to portray. Strapped with my weapons I looked like something from a nightmare with my long black hair covering much of what the bandanna did not cover. The cape added a nice touch too, and it had practical use. If I needed to hide in a shadow the way the cloak was designed and the materials that made it up would absorb light, rather than reflect it. It earned me the nickname of Shadow.

One night after I cleaned myself up and had something to eat, Braylax has me come to his hut. I stand at the door and hesitate. Nobody is summoned to the personal hut of him and his mate. I did nothing wrong and have done as he has asked, so I should not be in trouble. So why does my hand shake as I move to knock?

“Enter.” His voice sounds a bit strained, and something in me recoils. But I push open the door and enter. As I close the door I turn and bow, and what I see was far from what I expected.

Braylax has his mate on the bed and he was currently inside her as I entered. I close my eyes quickly and turn to go.

“I am sorry! I did not know this was a bad time!” I say hastily and reach for the door handle.

“No, I summoned you. You are fine.” He says, twisting to fall onto the bed beside his mate, who promptly crawls over him and begins to worship him with her hands. The hair on my neck rises and I do my best to keep my tail and ears from showing my discomfort as I turned back around to face him. I keep my eyes down to the floor near them.

“I-is there s-something you need.” I say quietly. This was their private place and I was intruding. The faster he told me what he needed the sooner I would get out.

“Come in. Do not be shy.” he grins, then lets out a groan of pleasure and looks down at O’hagrith. I uncertainly take a few steps further into the room then stop. My discomfort grows as I can smell the room better here. Sex and sweat. Nothing sweet about the room, and the layout seems to be centered around the bed.

“Have you ever had a romantic interest in anyone?” O’hagrith purrs as she slides up beside Braylax, her hand tracing shapes along his chest. I gulp and shake my head.

“Not surprising considering your past.” I look at Braylax for a moment.

“Have you thought of what you would like to do if you had a romantic partner?” She croons. Once more I shake my head and she laughs. “You are rather adorable when you are being shy. Come girl, sit over here.” She says as she pats the bed beside her. I hesitate.

“She will not bite. Unless that is what you are into.” Braylax chuckles. She lets out a girlish giggle and after a moment I uncertainly do as requested. I may be the favorite, but he still owns me.

Then O’hagrith speaks up, “Come, Sinon. It is alright.”

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I jolt up in my couch as that part of the memory plays over in my head.

“She called me Sinon. . .not Aelin? I-is. . .that my name?”

I think for a long moment and try to recall more, but my mind grows fuzzy and eyelids fill with led. As sleep encroaches I try to think of another time when that name was used. Then I remember Rowan, my brother, calls me Aelin.

“No, my name is Aelin. Sinon. . .that was a go-by-name used so that no one could figure out who I was. Aelin Sinon Galathynius. That is what they called me.”

Sinon, that last though that goes through my head is how it has a nice ring to it. . .

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-End Part One-

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