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sunalee · 2 months ago

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the hood and the healer

summary: The town's vigilant always visits your tent with a wound to be taken care of.

with: Kim Mingyu

warnings: historical!au, mentions of injuries, a bit of angst and grieving, open wound (nothing graphic), healer!reader, childhood friends to lovers?, unspoken feelings, fluff. word count: 1500+

The evening comes, and it’s the time for you to close the doors of your humble hut to rest. Fortunately, there weren’t too many villagers seeking your care today: two children who got into a fight in the streets, a wounded guard who prevented a robbery, and a lady with a skin disease in her knee, who needed weekly treatments to improve her health.

You can’t exactly call yourself the best healer in the realm, your tools aren’t the most advanced, and neither are your skills, much to the short time you’ve been practicing. But you’re proud to help in any way you can.

The well-being of your patients it’s what matters most, and you do whatever you can to provide that, paying close attention to every ingredient chosen or bought, cleaning and tending them to later produce ointments and other types of medicines. You learned all the recipes from your late father’s journal, your inspiration of healer, who taught you everything you know today.

His manuscripts are now all you have of him since your childhood home was demolished four years ago, on orders of the current governor, Mozan. That tyrant ravished almost every knowledge source in town, monopolizing to his own hands so that people pay more for services they had in abundance. So many valuables, research, and medicines that could bring so much improvement were lost that day, and with your father’s death, you had to learn from the worst scenario how to get back up and move forward with your life.

It’s been a tough and long process, but even though you still didn’t accomplish a comfortable situation, you’re grateful for what you’ve done so far.

Organizing the glass balm jars on the shelves, you’re startled by hurried knocks on the door, so suddenly that almost makes you drop the jar you’ve been holding.

Who could it be at this hour? For precaution, you take a medium branch from the pile you gathered early to the fireplace, hard enough to leave a good concussion. You take a deep breath before unlocking the door and slightly opening it.

A tall, hooded-dressed man is waiting on the other side. The white fabric of his haori almost hides his brown uniform underneath it, but you don’t pay much attention to that, eyes focusing on the way the man is holding his arm close, a clear sign of injury.

You don’t need much more than the warm-brownish eyes gazing at you, and the wooden bow strapped to his back to recognize your childhood friend Mingyu.

“Do you have time for one more patient?” His pleasant, deep voice vocalizes a question a little embarrassed and restrained as if he did something he shouldn’t and now it hurts like hell. And from the way his body is curling forward, he won’t be able to endure that wound much longer.

And you know exactly what got him into this situation. Oh, how much you want to give him the slaps his mother forgot to do.

Sliding those thoughts aside, you make room for him to enter, guiding the dark-haired man to the futon where you tend most of your clients. You preferred to quiet yourself, feeling down your throat the hard lecture you wish to free, but you let your worry lead you, removing his belongings and upper clothes until you spot the ugly hole covered with blood on his shoulder.

“Arrow.” He informs, hissing when you touch the wound with a white cloth to clean it and inspect it better. “I put some pressure on it on my way here, but I suppose it’s worse than before. It feels like it.”

“Fool.” You whisper to yourself, but Mingyu catches your words, chuckling in response. He has to agree with you on that. He turns quiet, watching you as you meticulously check on him, searching and finding other bruises along his torso and back. He noticed the signs you leave and sadness in your eyes at every scratch found, making him feel guilty for making you so concerned.

Ensured enough, you return to the main wound. Thank goodness Mingyu wasn’t stupid to ignore it, as without proper care it could quickly become infected and worsen his situation. It isn’t large, but you’ll need to give it a few stitches to close it and quicken the healing process.

You leave for a few seconds, gathering the material before returning with a basin of water, some more cloths, strips, an ointment, and a canteen of water for him to recover his energy. You offer some seeds to lessen the pain, but he denies them gently, knowing how much you struggle to find these seeds in the woods. He’s been through a lot more pain than this, he can take it.

“Tell me if it gets too much.” You encourage him while cleaning the wound, gazing at him one last time before taking the needle and twine, and starting to stitch his skin. Mingyu does an excellent job at hiding the intense pain in his body, taking deep and even breaths to relive it. His resilience stuns you so much, how can the patient be calmer than the healer?

It’s a horrible sensation, especially on someone so dear to you. It’s something that you pray to never need to repeat. You finally finish the nerve-wracking stitches, content with your work but still nervous as you inspect it for any mistakes.

“You’re worried.” He points out after a few moments, noticing the way your body is stressed by the whole situation.

“How did this happen?” You decide to ignore it, gathering the material to start patching him up.

He sighs. He won’t win this fight. “I broke into one of Mozan’s vaults. There weren’t any patrols at first, but a few archers appeared later on as I collected the coins.” He tells the story so casually that you could believe he does that every day after breakfast. “I got away in time, but one of them hit me in the shoulder as I was riding.” He confesses frustrated, not quite meeting your eyes. “Don’t worry, I made sure to lose them before I came here.”

You chuckle in disbelief, trying to ingest what you just heard. How can he presume that you’re more worried about two archers breaking into your house than your only friend, who almost died at their hands?

Honestly, you never will understand what goes through Mingyu’s head. But clearly, it’s majority nonsense.

“Was that funny?” He asks, visibly confused. Your urge to hit him grows, but you rather fill your hands with the ointment to rub on his wound. Maybe if you press your fingers just a little harder, it’ll hurt him enough.

But you love him too much to do that.

“Why do you keep doing this?” You can’t take it anymore. You can’t keep watching him putting himself in danger over nothing. “What’s so nice about robbing the rich, hm? Why do you keep risking your life on this? It’s not worth it,Gyu!”

“Of course it’s worth it!” He sneers, getting defensive. He doesn’t want to argue with you, but he won’t just let you assume his purpose is pointless: you need to understand his point. Pursing his lips, he keeps on explaining. “You know I’m not doing this for money. I’m doing justice to everyone who suffered for the greed of these men. To all who starve, while they stuff themselves with wine and meal. I’m doing this for us, _______.”

“This isn’t the right way to do it, and you know that.” You firmly rebound, even if it’s clear in his eyes the purity of his intentions. His heart is the greatest you’ve ever seen, but his emotions aren’t enough to assure his safety. “Your father would never agree with what you’re doing right now.”

“My father is dead because of them!” He raises his voice, gaze turning into flames for a moment. Breathing hard, he realizes what just happened, and tears start forming in the same place, making you regret bringing up such a sorrowful memory. “He was a righteous man who fell into their trap.” He gulps down, trying to contain his growing emotions. “ -and I’ll not let anyone else suffer as he did. I won’t let any child lose their father the way I lost. And I don’t care if I have to go through hundreds of arrows to guarantee that!”

You stare at each other for slow, silent seconds, until Ren regains his calmness, eyes softening as he realizes how he handled things. You continue to tend to his wounds without muttering words, but you can feel his regretful gaze on you. The only sound echoing in the room is the flames covering the woods in the fireplace.

You finish the last bandage before returning his clothes, not really meeting his gaze.“All done. Try not to make any brusque movements with your arm, and remember to change the dressing around the same time for the next few days.” You give the instructions, holding the now bloody bowl in your hands to discard. “I’ll get you medicine for the pain.”

A gentle hand holds your arm before you can move away, making you stay still as you search for an answer inside those beautiful blazing eyes of his.

“Forgive me�� For being so harsh with my words. I know you only worry for me, and I’m immensely grateful for your care.” He tries to apologize, shoulders soothing as you offer him a small smile in return.

“It’s all right. Forgive me for the things I said to you as well.” You answer, also regretfully. Mingyu didn’t lose his father to a disease like you did, and neither had the honor to stay with him in his last moments; his father was murdered in cold blood, and punished publicly for confronting the tyranny without fear. An honored soldier, who did nothing but protect his people. If you were in his place, you would be just as furious as him. You move closer, rubbing softly his good shoulder. “Now, let me bring your medicine.”

He lets you go this time, taking a moment to look around the room as you search on the shelves.

“Looks like the roof has some holes in it.”

“Termites.” You explain, grabbing a green bottle, the smell of calendula filling your nostrils as you confirm the content. “They’ve been growing fast outside, and ended up coming to my house as well. Once I get enough, I’ll repair the damages.”

“I could help you with the coins, you know.” He not so discreetly proposes, but you know very well where those funds came from. “Winter is coming, and these holes won’t do you any good with the cold.”

“I can handle it, Gyu, but I appreciate the offer.” You leave no room for conversation walking back to him and passing the medicine. “Take twice a day, ten hours apart. It doesn’t taste very well, but it will help you through the pain.” You instruct, noticing after that he doesn’t take his eyes off you as he catches the bottle, amused by your stubbornness. As always.

“Thank you, _______.” He says, not only for what you’ve done, but for every wound, pain, and struggle you’ve helped him go through, since his childhood. One day, he'll honor everything, starting by giving you a better place to live. It won’t be today, nor tomorrow, but certainly one day.

He rises from the futon and surprises you with a tender, slow peck on your forehead. You’ve never questioned Mingyu’s feelings before, content with just being a dear person to him.

But perhaps, something deeper could arouse in the future.

“Take care, my healer.” He says with a hint of humor, already dressed with his uniform and belongings. Walking towards the entrance, he turns to you one more time. “Until next time.”

“Not wounded, I hope.” You almost plead, making him giggle so genuinely that brings a smile to your face as well. It’s good to see him well.

“But that’s the funny part.” He answers with a cheeky grin, and with the last wave, he leaves your hut, closing the door on the way out.

Already missing his presence, you start gathering the used material from the ground, but you find a small bag that wasn’t familiar. There’s a note beside it, but you decide to check the content inside, finding a good amount of gold coins that make you speechless. Shaking your head in disbelief, you open the note, already knowing who gave you such gift:

“You said you didn’t want help with the roof, but you didn’t say anything about the medicine’s price.”

— Gyu.

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archonsoflove · 1 year ago

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His love language | part 2

featuring: childe, xiao x gender neutral! reader

cameo appearances: baizhu, capitano

{physical touch}

Visiting Snezhnaya for the first time with Childe was a shock to your system. The snow, harsh winds and the desire to never get out of bed, draped in thick furs beside a tall fireplace became your new normal over the next five months.

While the climate was starkly different to that of your home country’s – Inazuma – you found yourself enjoying having an excuse to sit just that little bit closer to Childe at gatherings. He holds your gloved hands in his tightly whenever he is able to and kisses the tip of your ice-cold nose as soon as you get indoors.

“I see Snezhnaya’s fashion suits you well,” Capitano had complimented you at a Fatui dinner. Childe had gone off to speak to Arlecchino – grudgingly – and you had been left to your own devices.

“Thank you,” you accepted his compliment politely, all too familiar with the underlying implications in the once over he had given you as he’d approached you.

“It’s a shame Tartaglia kept you hidden away from us for this long. But I can hardly blame him for keeping a treasure such as you tucked away.”

“And I think I would like to keep it that way.” Childe came sauntering over to you, a thin smile in place as he nodded his head Capitano’s way. “I see you have met my superior.”

“Yes, I have.” Your voice gives nothing away. You feel Childe’s hand on your lower back, a reassuring and steady presence. A small chill runs down your spine, observing the two men before you. You’re glad Childe knew better than to throw you to the wolves.

That evening, Childe takes you home and claims every single part of you, whispers of mine, mine, mine on his lips as he kisses over your scars, a parallel to his own. You know he will always try his best to shield you from the danger of his line of work. And laying his claim on you ensures everyone else knows exactly who you belong to.

•

{acts of service}

Xiao has never been good with words. But over the years he has come to terms with the feelings the two of you share, in all of its mundaneness. The pain and regret that had twined inside of him, fighting, and churning in his being in such a maddening way had suddenly come to a halt when you’d shown up on his doorstep.

A healer. You had been sent from Sumeru on Baizhu’s request to inspect this Adeptus’s condition. You had never seen an illuminated beast of any sort before. And this one in particular left you awestruck.

During your time with him, you had learned of karmic debt, and the darkness that came over him in bouts of pain. A dream eater. A slave. A warrior. He had been so many things in his lifetime. But never a lover.

Learning more about each other had helped the two of you grow closer. And once he was well enough to carry out his duties again, you found that he’d linger behind you from afar, keeping a watchful eye on you.

He had never told you he loved you. But from the way he lingered in the shadows as you made your way home after a long day and followed you into the mountains as you collected herbs said enough. His unwavering devotion to the land of stone was just as steady, but so was his loyalty and service to you.

-------- 》 part 3

MASTERLIST

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isfjmel-phleg · 17 days ago

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The Blackberry Bushes Book 3 Revision 2?

I think there's a bit of the incomplete chapter draft in this file that I haven't shared yet, in which Tamett enters Odren's study and we get our first impressions of the king and of the way that Tamett is treated as someone from a nation subjugated by Lienne:

He stood in a room of white marble beneath a high domed ceiling. Bookcases lined the walls, displaying books all the same size, bound identically in the deep blue and silver of the Liennese flag. White marble busts on Ionic pedestals peeked out from corners with pupilless stares. Tamett shuddered, half expecting them to quiz him in Greek with the voice of HRH’s tutor. A forest of blindingly white columns stretched toward the far end of the room. There, before an empty white fireplace, were chairs upholstered in studded navy leather, their unsociable slipperiness unrelieved by any cushion or rug. And beside the chairs, behind a fortress of a desk, awaited exactly the sort of man who would own such a room.

The king glanced up from his papers and said, “Come in,” in a low voice that seemed to shake the very dome.

Tamett inched across the rugless floor, studying its checkered pattern and wondering if the king had ever considered acquiring giant chessmen to match it.

He stopped a respectful few yards from the desk, head humbly down, and assumed the position of a Liennese bow. Right leg back, bobbing halfway down on the left leg, right hand over heart.

“My heart beats in your service, Your Majesty,” he said.

He was the chessman.

The king gestured for Tamett to rise but did not indicate that he could sit. Now that they were at eye-level, Tamett dared a closer look at his monarch. He had seen the king before, of course, but nearly always at a distance as His Majesty inspected his children or breakfasted with them or attended weekly recitals. The king had always reminded him of what HRH would probably look like in forty years. He had the same stabbing gray eyes, square jaw, and steel-rigid posture as his son, although his hair and beard were fairer than HRH’s and noticeably graying. Not even the vast, high-ceilinged room could dwarf him; even when seated, he was impressively tall, and rather stout, as HRH was promising to become. But where HRH boiled over with disdain at every flaw he beheld, the king looked as if he too had weighed his subject in the balance and found him wanting but couldn’t be bothered to regard him with more than distant reproach.

Like an insect on the floor. Like someone who was about to be dismissed and therefore could be no further concern.

The king rifled through the papers in front of him. Tamett steeled himself, sure that one of them would be the official termination of his employment. But the king only said, “You are the Låsrygg boy?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Tamett, is it?”

“Yes, sir.”

The king jotted something on a paper in thick, bold handwriting. Tamett wished he knew how to read upside-down.

“Our records indicate,” said His Majesty, “that you have been with us for more than five years now as my son’s companion. And frankly, Tamett, when your uncle recommended you, I never expected you to last this long. We wanted a boy of good Liennese stock. Engaging a Noriberian was a risk, especially if I wanted my son to learn hard work and reliability. But you have proven yourself. One would hardly know by now that you are Noriberian at all.”

He paused, awaiting a reaction.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” said Tamett, once he realized that the king thought he was paying him a compliment.

“You are an example to your people. We are Liennese, the highest honor that God could grant us at our births, and all my subjects must remember that.”

Tamett was tempted to reply in Noriberian, but his father had always told him never to speak that language at the palace. Lienne had occupied Noriber for hundreds of years without a sign of ever yielding back sovereignty, and at this point, the best and safest thing that Noriberians could do was to assimilate, to convince the Liennese that they were as civilized and loyal as any other subject of His Majesty.

“Yes, sir,” said Tamett. At least “yes” in Liennese and Noriberian were identical. The king would never know which he had just heard.

The king smiled smugly at his subject’s gratitude for this gracious commendation. “I also had my concerns about how well you would get on with Prince Josia. My son is an exceptional child. He is the culmination of centuries of only the most careful breeding, designed to produce the strongest, the noblest, the most intelligent, the most physically perfect specimens of the sons of Lienne. As such, he has so little in common with ordinary children that his tastes have become extraordinarily discerning. Perhaps he is…just a trifle…shy. He does not easily take to most other children, which is why I insisted upon a schoolroom companion in the first place.”

Tamett had always supposed he had been engaged to better offset HRH’s superiority, but if the king wanted so badly to believe that he was fostering sociability in his poor bashful boy, one might as well let him.

“But somehow my son has grown rather fond of you.”

That was news to Tamett.

“One might say, even close to you. As close as one could be to a sort of subordinate brother. You are privy to every detail of his day-to-day life.”

Well, not every detail. Thank goodness he had never been expected to dress, feed, bathe, or otherwise physically tend to HRH.

“His progress reports have been nothing but satisfactory since you joined him. But would you agree, Tamett?”

Tamett shifted his weight. “I beg your pardon, sir. I don’t understand what you mean.”

“Would you agree that you have been a good influence on my son? That you have encouraged him to become everything that the Hope of Lienne should be? That you have taken part in building him into a future monarch who surpasses every other? That I should not regret bringing you into my household and bringing you up alongside my own children?”

“Er…,” said Tamett. Nothing more articulate could escape his throat. Every word in every language he had ever studied wiped itself from his brain.

The king offered him no further aid, just bored into him with those knife-colored eyes. Beads of sweat formed under Tamett’s stiff collar and dripped meanderingly down his back, but he stifled the urge to wriggle. Had he not forced himself to imagine his boots were nailed to the floor, he would have bolted out then and there.

The king seemed to be staring into his soul.

“I’m sorry!” cried Tamett at last.

The king’s eyebrow lifted a fraction of an inch. “For what?”

“For pinching—I mean, taking His Royal Highness’s napkin and sitting on it.”

“What—”

“Today. At the luncheon. And switching out my glass with his. Several times. And sneaking grapes off his plate.”

The King opened his mouth again, but Tamett, too wound up with the thrill of confession, didn’t notice.

“And knocking over the salt shaker into the jam tart. It was an accident. Mostly. And I shouldn’t have excused myself before it was over or taken so long to come back after I did, and I’m awfully—I mean, quite sorry, Your Majesty, and I won’t ever do it again, just please don’t tell my parents and please don’t dismiss me.”

#asks #fictionadventurer #thank you!#The Blackberry Bushes excerpts #Tamett Lockridge #Odren Callon

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legacyshenanigans · 11 months ago

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A random thing that was floating around in my head 🤣

Rowan: *in werewolf form, sleeping in front of the fireplace in the Den office room*

Marvolo: *sat at his desk waiting on someone*

An old cooky looking man wanders in with an equally as cooky attitude, Marvolo wanted to hire him for something.

Marvolo: *looks up* Ah, you've arrived you must be-

Old man: Hello hello hello, Barnabas Bingle at your service *aggressively shakes Marvolos hand*

Marvolo: (?!) *clears his throat* Yes, well, anyw-

Barnabas: *GASPS*

Marvolo: (?!)

Barnabas: A werewolf! Fascinating! No doubt thats why you've called me here?

Marvolo: Actually no I-

Barnabas: *ignores Marvolo and wanders over to Rowan* What a vile creature..*inspecting a sleeping Rowan* You've done well to keep it sedated as such here..I've never seen one THIS upclose, not alive anyway HA!

Marvolo: Actually he-

Barnabas: *pokes Rowan with his walking stick* Urgh, look at it..

Rowan: *stires from his nap, confused as he opens his eye's, seeing the old man looking at him*

Barnabas: *GASPS* it awakes!!

Marvolo: He-

Rowan: Who the fuck are you?

Barnabas: *GASPS* It...It TALKS?!

Rowan: (?!) *tranforms back into his human form* What the fuck is going on?!

Barnabas: GOOD HEAVENS!!!!

Rowan: (?!)

Marvolo: *can't help but chuckle*

Rowan: Who's this weirdo? *frowns*

Marvolo: The man I've hired...

Rowan: *stares at the man, still in half asleep confusion*

Barnabas: Amazing, you can transform at will? You have control of yourself? You can talk in your ghastly, hideous form?

Rowan: (?!) .. 'scuse me?!

Marvolo: Anyway, Mr.Bingle, could we maybe-

Barnabas: *gets out a notebook and pen* In a moment, dear boy, in a moment, I must ask this thing questions and document my findings.

Rowan: Thing?! Why am I bein fuckin interviewed? What the f- I'm so confused!

#rowan the wolf

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onboardsorasora · 1 year ago

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❄️Enchanted AU: Christmas Part 17❄️

Its Thursdaaayyyy. Excited to post this behemoth of a chapter, its one of my faves :)))))))

Part 1 | Christmas Parts 14 | 15 | 16

Part 17

Daniel turned on a Christmas playlist on Max's Spotify… that Daniel made him get after Max admitted that he didn't use a streaming service. He YouTubes songs he wants to listen to.

Daniel had looked at him with the same level of disgusted curiosity that Martin normally looked at him with when this topic came up. And unlike what happened with Martin, Max blushed.

So now he had a Spotify account and his algorithm would immediately be filled with Christmas music.

The tree had come in that morning and Daniel had then gleefully lined out the decorations they had bought. Max watched the method to his madness; there was a package set down by the fireplace, a package by the door and the remaining packages settled near the tree.

Jimmy sniffed the new additions, walking up and inspecting the lowest branches of the Douglas Fir. Sassy sniffed the packages of baubles before jumping on the mantle to oversee the tree decoration. Daniel lifted Jimmy into his arms and kissed the cat's head a few times before placing him gently into the couch.

With the music going and the cats safely out of the way, Daniel started unpacking baubles, tinsel and lights while humming and swaying. Max unpacked the wreath by the door and hung it on the outside by the readymade hook. He came back inside to find Daniel already tangled in lights.

“Help.” Daniel giggled and Max huffed out a breath, he knew not to ask when Daniel got into small clumsy situations. Sometimes he just doesn't pay enough attention, and that was ok. Max helped him unravel the lights from himself and onto the tree. They laughed together as Daniel twirled this way and that to untie himself from his bindings.

“If you were taken captive, at least you would have something to do “ Max joked as they used the attached remote to decide which flicker setting to leave the lights on.

“A very festive kidnapping. Very like home alone.”

“Is that the one with the neglected child that gets left behind at home?”

Daniel dissolved into giggles at the very apt description of a Christmas classic. “That's the one!” He gasped. “They made it like all the way to Paris too before they noticed. Like how?!”

They continued to bicker and tear the movie plot apart while they worked. At some point glasses of wine were poured. The music changed from the traditional carols to more jazzy mood music versions that Max decided he preferred. He sat on the couch sipping from his glass as Daniel danced around the living room, a rope of gold tinsel wrapped around his shoulders like a shawl.

Max laughed joyously when Daniel plunked down his glass to instead scoop up Jimmy as a dancing partner. Sassy jumped out the way, burrowing into Max’s woven sweater to hide. She trusted that he wouldn’t betray her to dance.

“Don’t worry Sassy girl, you’re safe right here.” Max stroked down Sassy’s back before honing back in on Daniel’s twirling form. In the twinkling lights of the almost finished tree, the warm glow of the fireplace, surrounded by open packages of all sizes and giggling merrily at a surly cat, Max couldn’t think of anyone more beautiful.

He looked away quickly, lest Daniel see that his face was maybe doing something it shouldn’t be in his presence– like baring his soul. He looked down at Sassy instead, who was now curled on her back and presenting her belly to him. She looked at him with her knowing eyes and he looked away again, stroking her soft fur.

“Oh Jimmy you’re no fun!” Daniel cooed, letting the bengal down to skitter away onto the other side of the couch. He turned his smiling eyes to Max who looked up at him like a sunflower turned to the sun. “Would you like to dance, Maxy?” He asked almost hesitantly, clearly bolstered by the wine flowing through him. Sassy jumped off of his lap quickly– as if he told her they were going to the vet, and Max thinks he found his answer.

He got up and watched as Daniel’s smile widened impossibly. Max decided that he liked these smiles, he liked them the most since they happened because of him. He took Daniel’s hand and twirled him around, Daniel laughed a honking laugh and made a show of it. The music was lively enough to warrant the hijinks.

Eventually the music slowed down and the dulcet harmonies of ‘White Christmas’ played through the speaker system. Daniel made to step out of Max’s hold but Max’s grip on his hand tightened. Max pulled him in closer with a smile and Daniel’s cheeks reddened further. He rested his head on Max’s chest, following as Max swayed them along. Max rested his cheek on the top of Daniel’s head, he wanted this moment to last forever. This was a moment for them alone.

Daniel’s eyes slipped closed as he let the feeling wash over him. The song was one of his favourites, he’d always thought it was a fantastical dream to have snow during Christmas. Sure he’s seen snow during the wintertime when they went on family trips, but Christmas was during the summer back home, so a white Christmas was highly unlikely. He and Michelle would always sigh and wonder what it would be like to wake up on Christmas morning to snow. And Daniel learned a little trick that he would do for just the two of them. Clenching his closed eyes, he whispered a song, muffled into Max’s sweater. He hoped Max would like it, no one other than Michelle has ever seen this. Max’s gasp told him that his magic worked. Daniel looked up to see Max’s face upturned in wonder.

Max was speechless, all around them were small soft lights– different from the cleaning lights– fluttering to the ground like snow. They floated sedately like a light sprinkling snowfall that didn’t touch the ground. He watched as the cats tried to sniff the snow lights before seemingly turning to mush. Max looked down to find Daniel already looking up at him through his lashes.

Daniel’s eyes sparkled in the warm light of the tree, Max could see the distinct outer ring of brown and the warm honey that trapped him within. Daniel licked his lips and Max followed the motion, watched as Daniel’s wine stained mouth glistened in the light. He wanted to kiss him, so badly. He’d give up his trophies to feel what Daniel’s lips felt like against his.

He could find out. Right here.

Max leaned in, eyes never leaving Daniel’s…

Chaos.

There was the sound of a phone ringing– piercing the atmosphere of the room. Immediately followed by the screeching hiss of Jimmy and the sound of glass crashing to the ground and breaking. Max and Daniel sprung apart and both ran to the scene of the crime.

Max’s phone continued to ring, burrito’d up in the blankets on the couch. Daniel scooped Jimmy into his arms and began to hum a melody to soothe the frightened cat. In his fear he had hit over Max’s empty glass onto the carpeting. Max answered his phone and tucked it between his cheek and shoulder while he worked the coffee table off of the area rug.

“Hello?” Max tried very hard to not sound rude, he wasn't sure he succeeded though. He did succeed in rolling the rug up and taking it into the guest bathroom.

“Max!” Alex’s joyous voice rang through clearly. There was a lot of chatter in his background, as if he was at a party.

“Where are you mate! Are you coming to the tree lighting?!” Lando yelled in the background

“The tree lighting? It's tonight?” Max stood in surprise in the bathroom, he looked at his watch seeing that it was also pretty late in the evening.

“Of course it's tonight! Are you guys coming or what?” Alex chuckled, they knew how frazzled Max had become in recent weeks and loved taking the piss out of him for his distraction.

“Uhm, yeah sure. We’re on our way.” Max hung up before Alex could say anything else, he walked back into the living room to see Daniel swaying to the music whispering softly to Jimmy who was curled completely in his hold. The tinsel shawl from before hung limply off one shoulder. Max cursed silently, wishing they could go back to five minutes ago.

“Is everything ok?” Daniel looked up with concern. His oversized tshirt almost looked like a dress on him, completely covering his shorts.

“The tree lighting, it's tonight. The guys are there.” Max got his mouth to work. Daniel’s eyes widened as he gasped.

“I thought it was next week! Oh no!” He was no doubt thinking of how he promised the boys they would go, thinking of how disappointed Luka and Lio might be. Max really wanted to kiss him.

“Do you still want to go?” Max was ok with staying in, if that's what Daniel wanted.

“I mean… we may as well right?” Daniel bit his lip and furrowed his brow a little. He felt bad.

“Then you should put on pants, I think. It will be cold.” Max teased, Daniel stuck his tongue out at him before scampering off to his room. Max shook his head good naturedly and set about putting the living room to some semblance of rights. He turned off the music, and the fireplace. Then he put Daniel’s wine glass in the sink. Finally, he turned off the lights on the tree. Tomorrow they could finish decorating and clean everything up.

He was putting on his shoes when Daniel came out of the bedroom. He had put on a pair of black skinny jeans and his vans. But no sweater or jacket. Max’s brow furrowed.

“You’ll be cold.” He pointed out, and Daniel blushed before covering his face with his palm, his curls flopped forward.

“I need to do laundry, I don’t have any clean sweaters. I’ll be fine.” He muttered with a shrug. Max rolled his eyes, knowing that Daniel would shiver the moment they walked into the elevator. He shook his head and walked past Daniel back to his bedroom. He grabbed a sweater from his closet and walked back out of his room with it held in front of him for Daniel to take.

Daniel’s blush deepened as he ducked his head into the thick fabric, the navy sweatshirt was perfectly oversized and smelled like Max.

“Thanks.” He said shyly, ducking his head to covertly sniff the collar and get enveloped in Max’s scent again.

“Bwoah, don’t mention it.” Max fanned his words away, it was nothing. He just didn’t want Daniel to be uncomfortable. Max opened the front door and stepped out first, Daniel skipped out after him and down the short hallway to the lift. Max watched him go quietly, the sight of Daniel in his clothes burned in the back of his eyelids.

Part 18

#maxiel #max/daniel #enchanted au #enchanted au: christmas #disney princess dan

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kickthecan-revolution · 11 months ago

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My angel number. Keep going, take the risk, move forward, change is happening.

Today I’ve been researching names for my consulting business. I’m circling around dreamlandd (Dream + LandD) - the .com is available. I snagged it as an option. I set up an appointment with my tax person to next week to identify what kind of corporation I’d set up, there are a lot of options and I want to make sure I’m doing everything correctly. I’m thinking I’ll just do a sole proprietorship out of the gate but if anyone has any advice on that versus an S-Corp, I would appreciate it!

After that, it’s just locking the name and applying for a business license. I also need to compare the merits of basing it in Washington vs California which she will help me with.

My flight is booked for Seattle in a few weeks to start dealing with all of the deferred Alki maintenance. There was another power surge which fried the upstairs furnace transformer, so I had to get that repaired, I’m hoping I can make a claim with the city to help cover that cost. Upon inspection, it turns out that the furnace downstairs is over 31 years old, which is insane, they only last about 15 years so I am well overdue for a new one. I think it can last a while longer while I assess the cost of putting another floor on the top of the house, which in that case, probably, I’d likely just replace both of them. I’m so bad at understanding any kind of basic house maintenance, that needs to be some thing I develop more of an acumen around this year.

Otherwise, my sister‘s ex partner who is a contractor is going to come and look at the floor in the bottom unit that was damaged by the leak, assess for mold and then give me a bid for replacing all of the flooring. There’s also a ton of old broken furniture, an outdoor fireplace and barbecue that are rotted out and a really old outdoor storage unit that’s rotted that I’m going to have a junk service removed.

Onward!

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johnchimneysweep · 3 days ago

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ssukidesu · 11 months ago

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Inextricably Knotted (an Inukag + Jane Eyre AU) [Chapter 3]

Summary: Kagome Higurashi was orphaned as a baby and raised by her cruel aunt until the age of ten, after which she went to school and learned the art of service and self-suppression. Now eighteen, Kagome takes a job as the governess of Shippo, the young ward of the great and mysterious Lord Inuyasha Taisho.

But as Kagome gets to know her bemusing master, a ghost seems to haunt his estate, hinting that there is a long-lost secret hiding on the third floor.

(Read on AO3)

tag list: @heynikkiyousofine @xanthippe-writes

Chapter 3: Gregarious and Communicative

The next morning came quickly. With its master home, the house stirred to life a full hour before it normally did. The very air seemed lighter, and servants who had before made a habit of breakfasting with fearful nighttime stories now bustled happily down corridors and fluttered in and out of rooms. Kagome wasn’t sure how Mr. Taisho's presence would alter her operations with Shippo, but she expected it would at least somewhat.

However, to her surprise, she did not lay eyes on him once during the day. Shippo was particularly restless and fidgety during his lessons, but the master did not come to see him. Or her. She supposed his ankle may have kept him relatively bedridden, so she didn’t allow herself to wonder about it for long.

But just as Kagome prepared to retire herself and Shippo for the night, Kaede sent for them to come to the drawing room.

When she and the boy arrived, Kagome was surprised to find Mr. Taisho standing—his back to her and his hand braced on the mantle over the fireplace. His ankle did not appear wrapped. Demonic healing, she realized.

Kaede was the one who greeted them; a cup of tea was anxiously flung her way, and Shippo was given another small box, no doubt containing more goodies from wherever in the world a man like Mr. Taisho gets presents for a ward he seems to so apathetically provide for.

Shippo, never the one for subtlety, did not read the wired atmosphere. “Does Miss Higurashi get a present, too?”

Kagome’s head whipped from Mr. Taisho’s solemn back to Shippo’s gloriously idiotic face. She wanted to run away.

The master did not turn. “Does Miss Higurashi like presents?”

Shippo and Kaede both looked her way expectantly, and it took her a moment to realize that she was supposed to respond to his impossible question.

“I wouldn’t know, sir. Presents have many faces to them, do they not?” She prayed this response would satisfy him enough to allow her quick retirement.

He did not oblige. “Indeed. Some less innocent than others. You are right for wishing to inspect them all before accepting.”

Again, two pairs of eyes waited for her continuation.

“Life very seldom gives gifts with no cost.”

These words finally stirred him to turn toward her. The firelight behind him, his front was shrouded in shadows, the mute lamplight hardly enough to allow the observation of her mortal eyes. She wondered if he forgot her human limitations.

His voice was gruff. “Keep me company for a while, if you would. It has been a long time since I’ve been home, and listening to the chittering of children and old maids sounds like a terrible pastime.”

Unable to help herself, she answered sardonically, “And since I am conveniently between the stages of childhood and old maidhood, I am temporarily deemed an appropriate alternative?”

His lips twitched. “Temporarily.”

I’d have it no other way, Kagome thought. She approached the fireplace and took a seat in one of the luxurious leather armchairs. She did not use the armrests; instead, she kept herself at the edge of the seat. She would not let him think her comfortable.

After commanding Shippo to play in the far side of the room, Mr. Taisho moved to take the seat beside her, his chair identical to hers. After a moment, he grew agitated. “Well, speak.”

Kagome raised a brow. “How could I know what topics would entertain you?”

“I don’t give a damn what you talk about. Just chase away the silence,” he said, hooded eyes flicking to her. At her stiffness, he seemed to remember himself, though his expression remained hard: “I don’t mean to speak in such an imperious manner. I’m used to telling others, 'Do this,' and it is done. I’m not used to conversing via mere requests—but I assure you it is one.”

“And yet I assume if I sit here in rebellious silence, you will find some way to punish me for insubordination?”

His head tilted to the side—rather like a canine, she noticed—and he faced her more fully, black brows now holding confusion alongside severity. “No. But I may punish you by calling you to me like this more often, if only to see you squirm until you finally acquiesce. All I want is your free conversation.” By the end of his speech, the corners of his lips had risen slightly.

“You do see, sir, that if every ‘free’ conversation is preceded by my summons and ended by my dismissal, you cannot blame me for perceiving it an order, no matter your assurance of the opposite.”

“Is that so? You may claim that, but I doubt you’ve ever responded to any of your previous masters' orders in such a… liberal way.” He was fully smirking now.

Kagome looked away, blushing. “You asked for me to give my thoughts as an equal, so I’ve given them.”

“I would hate to see how you speak to your inferiors,” he joked.

Kagome poked the inside of her cheek with her tongue. “I treat my inferiors perhaps better than I treat my own friends.”

He sipped his wine, relaxing further in his chair, though his eyes remained locked onto hers. “Kaede told me you received your education at Shikon school. Did you have friends there?”

Her next breath was shallow. “Just one.”

“And where is she now?”

Kagome picked at her nails, breaking his gaze. “Dead.”

A beat passed before his response. “I’m sorry. I heard of a terrible typhus outbreak at that school around seven years ago.”

“There was, but she died of consumption.”

“I apologize, Miss Higurashi; in asking you to chase away the mire of my thoughts, I didn’t intend to make you sift through your own.”

She swallowed. “Shadows, you called them.”

Mr. Taisho tipped his wine glass at her before bringing it to his lips for a long sip. She watched his mouth curve along the glass, remembering that if he were to open it only slightly more than he had thus far while talking, she would see the points of those fangs.

She took a sip of her still-steaming tea. “I assume then that it would defeat the point to ask you about that.”

“One would assume,” he said, redirecting his golden eyes to the fire, their color blooming to life.

“Alright, then,” said Kagome quietly, “What is your relationship to Shippo?”

“Ah—a question about a result of my previous methods of distracting myself. At least my new methods are less consequential,” he chuckled dryly.

“Shippo is a… consequence of you pursuing distraction?”

“You could say that. At least, indirectly.”

Kagome waited expectantly.

He sighed. “I suppose I’ve no right to ask for another change of topic when you’ve done so beautifully in accommodating me.”

Kagome had to school her grin. “No, you don’t.”

Flexing his clawed fingers on the armrests, Mr. Taisho began slowly, “About sixteen years ago, I was abroad acting in full delinquency… I don’t suppose it appropriate to give you the details, but I will give you enough to empower your strong imagination, which I know you have. I met a beautiful fox demoness, and she was my…” his eyes glazed over in something like abhorrence, “…distraction. Before you think it, no—Shippo is not my son. Anyone with eyes can see he has none of my bloodline, as he is a full demon. But he is her son.” He filled his lungs with breath, and she couldn’t tell if he was trying to force a smile or trying to smother a grimace. “His father was a moronic aristocrat of little consequence other than his exposure of my lover’s infidelity.”

“You discovered them?”

“In my own hotel room. I knew she was there—as she had been for two months—and I meant to surprise her with my early return, so I trod silently. I heard them speaking and giggling through the door.” He picked up his glass again, but instead of sipping it, he merely swirled it a few times. Something to busy his hands. “What was it she called me? An ugly abomination too stupid to realize she’d made me her spoony?”

Kagome flinched. Her grip tightened on the leather, her pale knuckles turning impossibly whiter. “How cruel,” she whispered.

“You’ve never felt jealousy, have you, Miss Higurashi? Of course you haven’t—for that would require that you experience love, first. When the day finally comes that you feel the prick, you’ll learn that one can only feel jealousy when the person usurping your love is truly better than you. When I saw who the man was after barging through that door, all jealousy was replaced with mere disgust—for him, yes, and also for her, as I saw her sophistication evaporate in light of the type of man that she truly desired. I saw her for who she truly was, her unintelligence and frivolity, and I was glad to be rid of her.”

Kagome considered his revelation, but could find nothing to add about it; he was right—she had no experience. “So if Shippo is not your son, then why do you have him?”

“His mother is dead—developed a tumor only a couple of months after his birth—and his father is a good-for-nothing whose death or life I have no way of discovering. While she was dying, she sent me a letter claiming that he was mine, but I knew she only said it to increase the odds of me caring for him after her death. I agreed regardless.”

“Why?”

He leaned forward in his chair and turned his head to see Shippo playing quietly by himself in the corner. A toy train, she realized. “His parentage isn’t his fault. Plus, I regained a spirit of repentance for my wildness after that experience, and I saw my caring for him as a way to partly redeem myself.”

“So… this life of repentance—what does it entail?”

He stretched his neck to lean his head over the back of the chair, a strange, self-loathing grin spreading across his face. His furrowed brow cast a dark shadow over his golden eyes, snuffing out their color. “Much inward turmoil, I’m coming to find out.”

Kagome said nothing, and he craned his neck to look at her, the glint in his eye mysterious. He continued, “Can I paint you a picture this time, Miss Higurashi, for you to analyze? Imagine yourself a young man, barely out of boyhood, and a decision is offered to you by your own family with only positive outcomes articulated. You would benefit personally, and the family would gain, as well. You accept—only to find out almost immediately that you had been deceived by all parties, and you were left with intolerable suffering while they distantly enjoyed the benefits. You flee your home country to escape these consequences of error—it was an error, not a sin, I must emphasize—by seeking refuge in the bosom of heathenish distraction. You acknowledge your wrong and return home, intent on bearing the burden for the rest of your days—only to find that, every moment, you are tempted again by a robed spirit of light that claims to be an angel. It is telling you, ‘Seek happiness, child of Man, for it is ever more in your reach.’ What would you do? Would you embrace the angel, or condemn it as Satan’s finest devil?”

Kagome hung on his every word. His eyes had arrested hers, molten and scorching. She cleared her throat, “And you’ve… tried every avenue of undoing the decision?”

“There is no earthly method I have not researched and attempted. All in vain.”

“You said that the decision itself was not a sin. But would the undoing of the decision be one?”

“Many would say so. But I’ve made my peace with it.”

“Other people are not my concern; would God find it a sin?”

He stayed silent, returning his gaze to the fire.

“If that is a yes, then I can assure you that your ‘angel’ is indeed a devil in disguise. If making the decision had consequences you did not foresee, would making a deal with a devil in turn prove any different?”

He looked at her again, his face troubled and sullen. “So, were you shaped by your little school to think that suffering was noble? Would your teachers tell me to find meaning in my suffering and consider it honing for heaven?”

“I did not like the teachers at Shikon, sir, and what they thought of divinity often went against what I found in my scriptures. But I can tell you what I have done during my most courageous moments: I stopped looking for an earthly solution or hope, and remembered the greater Source, who is said to identify with my sufferings on earth. I cannot say that it removed the suffering, but it gave me the strength to bear it better.”

"But the instrument—" he began, suddenly desperate, “God, who gives the strength, ordains the instrument. Can that not be delivered through an earthy medium?”

Kagome did not like the direction of his meaning; not because she could not understand it, but because she did not have a rebuttal in her arsenal when she knew that there was one, somewhere. “I’m afraid I cannot imagine any further, sir. I fear the conversation has gone past me, and any additional attempt to converse will likely lead to my talking nonsense—and I don’t wish to give you bad counsel.”

He scoffed. “You’re a perfect little fairy, aren’t you? So careful with your words—one would think you’d burst aflame for saying something you didn’t feel in your heart was true. Can’t a man seek a word or two of encouragement, even if it has a tinge of dishonesty?”

Kagome offered him a sympathetic smile. “If you want idle affirmation, I suggest rethinking your prejudices against children and old maids.”

He laughed outright at that—three strong laughs that jostled his broad shoulders. “I suppose I should.”

Silence overtook the room, and Kagome wondered if he would dismiss them. Moments before she got the courage to ask, he clicked his tongue, echoing the crackles of the fire. “You claim that you resented Shikon, Miss Higurashi, but in many ways, its burdens and chains still cling to you. You never laugh,” he mused, reclining his head. “But there is something beneath your direct gaze that seems to peek through, like a little bird spying through the bars of a cage. What lies beyond, it wonders? It tells itself it is content to sit and sing as it is bid—but if those doors were to swing open…”

He paused, and Kagome realized she was holding her breath. She could not wrench her eyes from his, which were so intensely piercing that she felt blinking would be an affront.

“…then the bird would break free in a moment, and it would soar—cloud high.”

Mr. Taisho did dismiss them after that, and Kagome felt shrouded in a strange fog as she undressed and crawled into bed. Her mind was consumed by their conversation—particularly his final words.

She craned her neck to peer out of the window beside her resting place. The moon was high and bright, gracing the terrain with a faint pale glow. Her eyes began to flutter closed, long blinks blurring her vision as the forest slowly came out of focus.

But the glimmer of a small point of light peeked through the trees, growing larger and closer by the second. A ghostly croon invaded from the small crack of her window, and Kagome’s eyes opened fully. She rose into a sitting position and rubbed her eyelids. When she reopened them, she nearly shouted in surprise to see that the creature had breached the tree line and was now flying—yes flying—right toward the house.

Its body was like that of a snake, its head like that of an eastern dragon mixed with a fish. It seemed the embodiment of moonlight, and it moved as in a dance of swaying and slithering.

It seemed to charge right for her window. But as it came close enough for Kagome to see that its size was at least fifteen feet in length, it wrenched itself to turn sharply upward, to where the third floor was.

As soon as it left the view of her window, its spectral sounds halted completely, leaving an equally phantasmal silence in its absence. Her heart pounded in her ears as she waited, waited for a scream or crash or quake—but nothing came.

Kagome knew it was not a dream. She had heard the servants mention witnessing strange lights in the woods, and she had no doubt that this was the creature responsible. She wondered if there were more than one.

It took nearly an hour for her heart to calm enough to attempt sleeping again. She spent most of that hour mulling over whether to ask Kaede—or anyone—about what she saw. Mr. Taisho had all but told her that creatures lived in those woods; she supposed there was no reason to feel so surprised, and there was no true evidence that the creature was even dangerous. Kagome set her mind to not worry so much about it; living in the house of a demon would likely provide worse surprises than this in time, and asking too many questions might bring her into trouble.

The sooner she accepted it, the easier her life here would be.

#inextricably knotted #inuyasha #inuyasha fanfiction #inukag #jane eyre #the next few chapters are already almost done #but I will probably wait a little bit to update so that I can develop more and revise

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my-watch-begins · 2 years ago

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A match for love. Part XXI

Warnings: depictions of violence, injures.

Words: 4.6 k

Masterlist.

Harwin opened his eyes. The haze he'd fell in after sleeping through the night still clouded him even though he had been alert for a few minutes. Heavily he sat on the bed and scanned the room. He was alone, he didn't know for how long he had been. He stood and walked to near the lit fireplace and dipped his hand in the wash basin.

After cleaning his face and getting rid of the griminess he felt. He took of the pieces of leather that strapped his arm to his chest and slowly unfolded his arm from the bent position it had kept for two days. He opened and closed his fist and slowly rolled his shoulder back and forth. He felt some painful tugs but decided to ditch of the sling.

He turned on his heels when the door opened and in came Adrian, behind him Grayce had a marked worried frown. Outside, sunrise was rolling with such laziness that the sky was barely breaking it's even blue color with tints of orange. .

"I went to get Grayce. I'm sure she can speak with your brother to avoid having troubles with Gwayne Hightower" Adrian explained.

Grayce had taken to inspect her brother's state. Now that he had cleaned up and slept he looked like himself except for the dark circles under his eyes and the way he slouched slightly to his bad side.

"Where is Larys?"

"He also left to Lady Laena's burial in Driftmark. He is to arrive any time now"

"I believe you should leave immediately" Adrian spoke up "I can step forward on your release from the cells, but you must return to Harrenhal at once"

Harwin moved to sit at the bed, his decision to remove the sling that held his arm together at his chest quickly became a bad one, the weight of his arm hung painfully on his injured shoulder.

"We were going to be leaving today. I still believe we should wait for Larys. Perhaps he wishes to join us at Harrenhal for my father's burial" Grayce reasoned.

"If he wished to do so he wouldn't have gone to the burial of someone completely unrelated to him" Adrian fought.

"He is at the service of the King"

"Again, very clear with his loyalties lie. They're not with you, Grayce"

Grayce looked at Harwin with a beckoning frown begging intervention, but it quickly turned to concern.

Grayce took her time binding Harwin's arm back to his chest, his head swirled uncontrollably at the pain of his burnt skin and misplaced shoulder. In the background he could hear Adrian begging Grayce to make plans and leave at once, but before she could answer the door of the bedroom rattled by fast and purposeful knocks.

Harwin exchanged a look with Adrian. Adrian's hand grabbed first the helm of his sword before the other grabbed the handle of the door.

As the door slowly opened and the air and light filled the room, Harwin's eyes adjusted until he recognized the hunched silhouette of his brother, leaning over his cane and searching inside the room with his eyes. Just behind him, Gwayne Hightower hardened his stare at the man from the Vale.

"Why am I not surprised by this insubordination?" Gwayne spoke, not really wanting an answer from Adrian.

"Larys" Grayce was the first to take the lead "I'm sure this misunderstanding can be settled before we leave for Harrenhal"

"There was no misunderstanding, Lady Grayce. Your brother was commanded to leave King's Landing at once" Gwayne fought.

"He came bearing news about my father's death, he wouldn't have returned for a lesser reason" Grayce looked at Larys pleadingly.

With a sigh that everyone perceived as annoyance, Larys moved inside Adrian's tiny quarters, his cane thumping along.

"Though I appreciate your sense of duty, brother, I estimate you didn't take into account that I, as the Master of Whispers, would be aware of our father's passing and your visit to King's Landing not be needed"

"I didn't order for a raven to be sent, I though it extremely impersonal" Harwin defended.

"You are not my only source of information"

That phrase stuck out to Harwin, who now looked up at his brother with a marked angry frown as he strolled in front of him.

"However, the Lord Commander does recognize his error in not inquiring about your presence in the Red Keep that led to your rushed imprisonment"

"Good" Grayce let out a sigh of relief "then we are free to leave to Harrenhal" Grayce's eyes met Harwin's, finding that her brother was not looking at her or Larys, his eyes were fixated in something she couldn't pinpoint.

"The matter with Harwin is resolved, not so much the matter of Adrian's insubordination" Larys' focus now turned Adrian, who had stood in a corner near the door and watched the situation unfold, unaware that he would also be addressed.

"Adrian saw his Good Brother in a cell-" Grayce began to defend, but Gwayne Hightower was quick to take a step inside and turn to stand straight in front of Adrian.

"We will not dispute this. Adrian Redfort, as the Lord Commander of the City Watch, I cannot condone this kind of insubordination and I hereby dismiss you from your duties as Captain"

His articulate language did not mimic the way his hands ripped Adrian's golden cloak from his shoulder unceremoniously. The rip of fabric was heard and even though Adrian slightly flinched at the sound, his angry eyes did not leave Gwayne's figure, to the point that the Lord Commander couldn't hold it.

Grayce looked at Harwin with a worried frown, hoping her older brother could do anything for Adrian, she found him with eyes still fixated in front of him and with wide eyes depicting shock.

Gwayne Hightower quickly left the room leaving the torn golden cloak on the floor. Larys seemed slightly annoyed by the unorthodoxy. He glanced at the angry face of Adrian, the perplexed one of Grayce and the surprisingly shocked face of his brother.

"I do wish you face travels to Harrenhal" he said, hoping that would be a sufficient farewell.

"You're not coming with us to father's service?" Grayce asked with plenty of disappointment in her voice.

"I am not unfortunately, there is much to do"

Without anything else to say, Larys gave one last nod to the people in the room and promptly exited the room

Harwin stood heavily from the bed and with a grunt tried to straighten himself.

"We should leave, immediately" he ordered, looking at Grayce sternly to not give room for disagreement. After Grayce exited the room he looked at Adrian and sighed heavily.

"I am sorry, Adrian" he muttered, Adrian shook his head dismissing the apology.

"It might be a blessing in disguise, I don't know how long I would've lasted with Gwayne as the Lord Commander"

Harwin held a stare with Adrian, then rose his hand to his shoulder and gripped it.

"Adrian, find Princess Rhaenyra and put yourself to her service"

"The Princess did not return to King's Landing after Lady Laena's funeral"

"Perhaps she's retreated to Dragonstone. You should go, it's what you came to King's Landing in the first place"

Adrian scanned Harwin's eyes quickly, then gave him a quick nod.

"So long as you leave as soon as possible" Adrian had to withdraw his gaze from Harwin's as he tightened her lips "I'm afraid I haven't felt at ease for a few days, and I know this is going to sound like nonsense but Ayla and I share much more than just blood, so if I'm even now feeling uneasy and with a big lump in my throat, I can't imagine how she must feel. The sooner you return, the better"

Harwin held onto Adrian's words as he watched Grayce enter the carriage with her two small daughters and her husband, he had reunited with his two guards and they insisted on Harwin also riding inside a carriage instead of on horseback.

A chill crawled from his lower back upwards to his neck and he had to look behind him. At the top of the stairs that led to the courtyard, Larys stood and watched his two remaining siblings climbing the carriages. Harwin and him crossed quick looks, but instead of receiving a nod of goodbye or even a small smile from his older brother, Larys was met with Harwin's coldness in the way he quickly turned on his heels and walked straight into the carriage. The guards that had accompanied him closed the door of and climbed into their own horses.

From inside the of the carriage, Harwin stared at his brother, his eyes more focused on the top of his cane, how his thumb slowly stroked the side of it. Gwayne Hightower arrived and stood behind him, without leaving his stare at the leaving party, Larys talked over his shoulder at Gwayne. Harwin leaned back when the carriage began moving and searched into his pocket.

He rolled the beetle pin in between his fingers and closed his eyes. His hand fisted the pin. In the dim lighting of Adrian's room and in between the haze of his pain, Harwin first instinct had been to disregard what his eyes were seeing. As he thought about it more and more, specially with Larys' saying of having eyes and ears beyond Harwin's reports, now he couldn't deny it. The pin in Larys' cane was unmistakably the same one he now held on his hand, the same one the people who killed his father had.

Ayla stared out the window at the tall walls surrounding Harrenhal. The height of them didn't allow for the sun rays to hit the courtyard before midday. Most times it was hard to assess the time from inside the walls, but one thing was certain, the sun had just peaked from the horizon.

The scraping of the chairs pulled Ayla from the window and made her turn. The staff of Harrenhal had been called for a meeting before breakfast. Lord Edder was also cited and was waiting near the chair at the head of the table.

Ayla walked towards it and slowly sat down at the same chair Harwin had been now two days ago, telling everyone that he was leaving for King's Landing.

She glanced around the room, everyone looked restless and tired, she imagined she looked about the same judging by the lack of sleep since the fire. She linked her hands in front of her stomach and took a sigh before starting.

"It's safe to say that none of us expected Lord Harwin to take this long, let alone to suffer this attempt of a breach" She began "my father assures that we will be breached around midday, some tactics were put in place to delay the breach but can't hold for long. That gives us about five hours, if my husband does not return by then, we will have to abide to the Royal decree, at least momentarily. I do not intend to give up Harrenhal so easily"

Ayla spoke in a monotone tinted with a little annoyance that she had to say the words she was saying. If it were up to her, she would've taken matters into her own hands and waited Lord Simon's breach with a sword in hand. Her status didn't allow her for much bargaining room with her father, who had his priorities very clear. Those were to keep her and the children safe.

"When we are breached, if push comes to shove we will leave Harrenhal to be commanded by Lord Simon as it's Castellan. If Harwin hasn't returned by that point, I will instruct the marshal to head to King's Landing to retrieve him... In whatever state he's in"

Sadly, the thought of Harwin's passing either whilst traveling or in King's Landing was something that Ayla had met with by the hands of her father. Even though there was no indication of such a thing, Lord Edder preferred planning ahead assuming he was.

"Let us hope he's just delayed and we get to see him through this lapse of judgment" Lord Edder spoke, his fingers tapping on the table in front of him.

"Unless you've also lost your father in a fire and gotten injured whilst escaping said burning building, you're not allowed to say anything about his lapse of judgment, you can keep your comments to yourself" Ayla was quick to shot down her father sternly and with an angry glare. Out of her peripheral vision she saw the Marshal repress a smile at her comment.

Ayla did not felt like talking much to the staff of Harrenhal after her order to the Marshal, they all quietly stood from their seats and worked their hardest to continue with their day as if there wasn't an immediate threat quite literally banging at their door.

Her eyes met the spot just above the edge of the tall walls, in the exact spot the sun would take at midday, just when the sun rays hit the courtyard, they will be breached.

Harwin overlooked at the strapped horses in the tying poles outside the inn. On their way to Harrenhal, they had stopped to eat something and to feed Harwin's nieces.

Around the inn, the guards were exchanging some words with other traveling guards serving as custody. The look on one of his guards as he hurriedly approached him made Harwin curse under his breath fearing bad news.

"Lord Harwin" he gave a quick nod and shifted in his spot "whilst conversing with the inn's guards and stable boys, apparently they saw a large garrison of at least fifty men march through here yesterday. They said there were heading for Harrenhal"

"Lord Edder was expected to arrive after our own arrival, perhaps it was him" Harwin replied, unfazed with the information.

"They were flying Targaryen banners, my Lord"

Harwin pulled a frown and slowly peeled himself from the side of the carriage he had been leaning on.

"Targaryen banners? Are the stable boys certain they were headed to Harrenhal?"

"They were, they found it odd"

Harwin took a deep breath, feeling the tightness of his strapped arm against his chest.

"Get me a horse" he began walking to the stables, the guard took a few seconds to get out of his stupor at the request.

"My Lord, you're thinking of riding there?"

At the stables, the guard was quick to unstrap the hook that held his horse and watched as Harwin climbed on it with a grunt and one pull of his good hand on the horse's saddle.

"Stay here and keep an eye on my sister, I will send someone for you"

"My Lord, I don't think it's wise-"

The complaint got lost in the wind as Harwin nicked the side of the horse with his heel, prompting him forward.

The trek from the inn to the outskirts of Harrenhal and until he could see the imponent castle in the distance, his mind rushed with thoughts of confusion.

As he neared the main entrance he could see the smoke streaks of the campfires mixing with the clouds above, the smoke signaled the garrison of men on the side entrance of the castle. He chose to get off the horse and promptly off the main path, the trees to the Godswood gave him enough cover until he reached the outside walls f the castle. His reckless and angry stomping crushing leaves under his feet were the only thing to be heard all around. He stopped dead in his tracks when he heard a voice next to him.

"Who goes there?" Harwin's eyes snapped to the side to find a guard with his hand tightly gripping the handle of his sword. Harwin's shoulders slumped with a little relief "Lord Harwin" the guard sporting House Strong sigil on his chest was surprised to see his missing patron strolling the Godswood. With a quick exchange of looks and information, Harwin entered Harrenhal.

Inside, the main room in the King's Pyre were Ayla had once celebrated her marriage, now she waited for Lord Simon.

The sound of the side gate being breached was so loud that Ayla's insides had twisted in fear. In the main room, Ayla had gathered both of her sons to keep them close. Her father was confident that the strategy did not need him in the battlefield to be executed, so he remained with her. The Marshal also remained near her and the two boys, a small amount of men commanded by Lord Edder were posted near the doors and a few of them stood in front of Ayla and the family to protect them.

Outside, the garrison of men entering the side gate did not meet any resistance, Lord Simon seemed very content to finally be inside the castle walls and even had to repress a laugh at the five guards outside the main door to the King's Pyre.

Lord Simon walked to the front row, the men waited for his orders as they gathered in front of the main gate.

"Please step aside. We have prolonged this matter long enough" Lord Simon commanded to the guards with a shake of his hand.

The guards held their place and a murmur was heard amongst the forces. Lord Simon turned his head around and glanced, suddenly the men at the edge of the garrison cried out to alert the troops of the men wearing red plates sporting the four tower sigil of House Redfort.

From two sides of the castle the men poured into the courtyard. Having not heard the command from Lord Simon to attack, the garrison that Lord Simon had brought found itself caged between two rows of armed Redfort men and the entrance of the King's Pyre. No escape but to enter the castle or fight their way out.

The Lord shot daggers at the guards, beyond angry that he had walked right into a trap. The guards took a step to the side and the door opened to reveal the marshal, fully armored, gripping the handle of his sword.

"Just you"

Lord Simon's flared his nostrils in anger and took the steps to enter the tower. Behind him, one of his men walked and the Marshal did allow for two guards to pass as escorts, the rest were quickly cut inside the barrier of Redfort men and the doors were closed once more.

The stomping of the Lord gave him away even more than the tinkling of his armor. Before Ayla's eyes met the man, she gave a quick glance to her father and received an encouraging nod.

Lord Simon chuckled humorlessly at the sight of Lord Edder standing just a step before his daughter, menacingly staring down at him.

"Why am I not surprised?" He said, finally stopping his walk and standing in front of Ayla but several steps below "I see the full scheme now" he motioned with one hand to the two of them.

"Ah yes, that wonderful scheme where my husband is killed in a fire and what? House Redfort takes over Harrenhal? Your assumptions are insulting. My father is doing very well with his own family seat. The same can't be said of you"

The remark quickly sparked the plug in Lord Simon and his fists tightened at his sides.

"You will abide the Royal decree" he commanded, his tone of voice had lowered resembling his anger.

"I've already abided the Royal decree and dismissed you from your duties. This buffoonery was completely uncalled for"

Lord Simon climbed on the stairs so fast that Ayla jumped in her spot and froze.

"My buffoonery? You are the one who's chosen to play this little game of chicken. Now, you abide the Royal decree and accept my authority as the Castellan of Harrenhal or-"

Movement caught Lord Simon's eyes and when he directed his eyes to the source, Ayla saw his face blank from all anger and his eyes open wide. He took a step back and fumbled down the stairs as quickly as he had gotten up them.

Before Ayla could turn, the large frame of her husband appeared in front of her, blocking her view from Lord Simon.

"What is the purpose of this?" He asked, his voice low and raspy made him clear it after he finished his sentence.

"Ser Harwin" he began.

"It's Lord Harwin now, due to unfortunate circumstances" he corrected. Lord Simon chuckled in nervousness.

"Lord Harwin, I was under the impression that... Well" he shrugged, not wanting to admit his wrongness "after I heard about the fire I traveled to put myself forward at the service of the ruling Lord in the role of a Castellan. Seeing you alive, but injured, I put myself at your services"

"Even under the assumption of something more dire happening to me, my son is to be the Lord of Harrenhal and my wife to warden him until he comes of age"

"I was not aware of that" he excused, making Ayla shake her head in disbelief, something neither the Lord or Harwin saw.

"I'm pretty sure my wife would have made you aware of that, it's would be unlike her not to" Harwin countered "so that's the reason for-" he motioned with a wave of his hand to the outer courtyard where the forces awaited "this incursion, you wanting to be the Castellan of Harrenhal?"

"No" Lord Simon was quick to deny "the matter for the incursion was the disobedience of a Royal decree, and-"

"What Royal decree?" Harwin interrupted. Soon he was met with said parchment with the decorated borders. The same decorated borders he didn't want to admit he had seen before, let alone where. "This royal decree is outdated. I don't find it odd that my wife decided not to abide it"

"Still, I believe that in your state, you will benefit from my guidance" Lord Simon offered as his very last resort.

"I do not wish to suffer you presence for much longer, specially if the first impression I get out of you is you yelling at my wife"

The next thing that was heard in the room was the sound of the parchment being ripped once, then twice. Ayla watched Harwin hand over the ripped decree to Lord Simon.

"Please see that Lord Simon arrives to his seat safely" he commanded. Lord Simon looked at the ripped parchment in disbelief.

"You can't -" he began, but Harwin was not in the mood to entertain any more of it.

"I suggest you save your breath. I assume you will have a lot of explaining to do to whoever gave you that decree"

Ayla swallowed at the thought of Harwin's sudden enlightenment about the doings of his family.

She did not see Lord Simon leaving the room, her focus was quickly pulled to the sight of both Kylian and Kiran cling to their father's waist as they hugged him. Only then Ayla noticed that her own father had her arm gripped in his hand. At the time of Lord Simon's sudden climb on the stairs, Lord Edder had grabbed Ayla by the arm and had gotten ready to pull her away from harm.

Now that Lord Simon was out of sight, Lord Edder had released Ayla and mentioned that he would see the Lord's exit out of Harrenhal.

Ayla now stared at Harwin caress both of Kylian and Kiran's hair. The boys looked up at their father with adoration and nodded dutifully when asked of they had behaved in his absence. Ayla caught a glimpse of the head of the maids and asked for a bath to be drawn for Harwin and the Maester to await for him at his chamber.

Once free of the boy's embrace, Harwin's eyes found the nearest guard before he turned to his side to meet with Ayla.

"My sister is down the road in the inn, see that she makes her way to Harrenhal without trouble"

The guard nodded and only then, after taking care of everything immediate, he turned to his side and found Ayla staring up at him, in her eyes lingered the question if what she was seeing was real.

Harwin extended his arm to her and cupped her face, his fingers curling at her neck and pulling her in.

When Harwin pulled her into an embrace and rounded her shoulders with his good arm, Ayla felt like she could finally breath again. Though the state of her husband was not the best, the fact that his heart was beating fast against her ear was enough reassurance that he was alive and finally safe in his home.

Ayla felt Harwin's lips on her forehead, along with the tingling sensation his grown beard provided. She looked up and their lips found each other. Slowly, their lips melted together and Harwin sighed into it. Despite the need to keep his wife close, he retreated and led his lips back to her forehead.

"The Maesters awaits to check on you. You certainly didn't have that when you left" Ayla quickly posed her eyes on the spot of dried blood and swelling on the bridge of Harwin's nose.

His hand quickly found hers and he gave a twist of his lips.

"There's a lot to talk about" he muttered. Ayla certainly agreed on that and let herself be led by Harwin.

Once in their rooms and with Harwin's torso uncovered and being checked by the Maester, Ayla did have to leave his side for a few minutes.

"Have you been taking care of her?" Harwin glanced up at the Maesters, his height didn't allow him to be properly treated by the seemingly shrinking tendency of the Maester.

"We've taking care of the Lady as much as she's allowed us. Her and the babe are in good health. She's even reported movement"

"That's good to hear" he muttered, sighing and letting his rushing mind still.

At Ayla's return and with her hand quickly finding his, the maester related that Harwin's injured shoulder would need extra time to heal, given that he had suffered added injuries that had worsened his condition.

Once they were left alone ans Harwin had undressed and sunk into the tub with warm water, Ayla took care of untangling his hair, scrubbing and pampering him. In that time, Harwin's mind was clouded with thoughts of not only Larys' doings, but now also with Lord Simon's, which seemed more dangerous and closer than Larys' in King's Landing.

"The Maester tells me you're in good health" he mentioned, seeing that she had finished helping him and had taken a chair to sit next to the tub.

"Yes, I've also been feeling some kicks here and there" she said, looking briefly down at herself. Harwin extended his hand and Ayla took it, her thumb running over his knuckles.

"I'm guessing something happened in King's Landing" she risked "you have a certain somberness in your face"

Harwin, grunting at the discomfort he felt in his shoulder, leaned in and kissed Ayla's hand.

"What does your father know?"

Ayla opened her mouth to speak, but then closed it with a little frown.

"About us? About the incursion?" She inquired.

"About everything"

Ayla swallowed and sighed, gripping Harwin's hand harder.

"He knows everything"

"More than me?"

Ayla's eyes told him everything he needed to know, he was sure that there were things Ayla and her father shared that he wasn't aware of.

"Yes" she said finally, a little reluctantly as to what his reaction would be.

"Then we bring him in and I'll tell you everything"

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@throughgoeshamilton

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1stchoiceresidential · 2 years ago

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unitedmasonry · 1 year ago

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