#God help me my advisor won’t ever forgive me for this

[fern-bug-20]

y’all I feel like an idiot.

I have a show pig and today I ran out of Linder 6-11 scuds ( it’s super high in crude protein and I need it for state fair which is next week). So this morning after feeding I went down to my local Linder supplier and apparently they stopped their orders for it earlier than planned this year. So I went into their back room and while looking through their feed I saw a bag of sunglo S’more fill and so I grab it, not even reading the crude protein and just taking it to check out because it was the only one I vaguely recognized. i get home and read the crude protein and it’s like 8% instead of like- 25%. So now I feel like an idiot.

( sorry for my useless rant my lovelies ❤️❤️)

[phoenixglacier]

Archon Quest Chapter I: Rewritten

(Part of my Genshin Impact Headcanons (things that blatantly go against canon but I’m pretending at true) series.)

Hi guys I really hated the Liyue Archon quest, but I don’t want to because Liyue really doesn’t deserve that. So I mixed it up a little to fix the main problems I had with it.

In this post:

Ningguang is the Geo Archon and Liyue’s Archon. She is “Morax”, with “Ningguang” as her modern name. Details such as Morax being of the original Seven and writing contracts with all adepti applies to Ningguang.

Zhongli is only an adeptus, not the archon, at any point. His original and official name is “Rex Lapis”, with “Zhongli” as the name that he’s using as a mortal.

Mainly, I wanted to remove Zhongli from the position of Liyue’s Archon entirely, because I his character is much more likeable that way (to me).

I’ll be marking parts that are the same as the original version with a *.

So, here’s how I would have the storyline play out in the game with my version of the Liyue Archon quest:

Traveller goes to Liyue Harbour as instructed by Venti*. They aren’t told that there’s any time limit, Morax simply governs the people directly rather than descending once a year. However, few ever get the honour of seeing Lord Morax (Ningguang), and her decrees are mainly spread by her direct underlings and the Qixing (Keqing and others).

When Traveller arrives, they set to work asking the ordinary citizens about Lord Morax and how to meet her. The citizens tell her the same spiel* about how the Qixing control Liyue. Here, the conversation/argument between the citizens is brought up about whether the Qixing should be given any credit compared to the Adepti. They eventually direct Traveller to Yujin Terrace*, because they can pray to the Adepti there.

At Yujing Terrace, there are people milling about, but they have not gathered for a specific event. They walk around and pray and act like normal NPCs.

Traveller makes wishes at the altars as per in-game and talks to some people which gives her insight on what the Liyue people tend to wish for. As she heads to the last altar, the cutscene triggers.

In the cutscene, we see the body of the Dragon Rex Lapis fall from the sky*, but the crowd isn’t originally crowded around the body, rather they move towards the body after they see it fall.

(For this part, basically Rex Lapis is declared dead*, and I’ve chosen to introduce Ganyu here arbitrarily) Ganyu appears suddenly from the sky, attracting the camera view and the attention. She jumps towards the body, and declares that this is the Mighty Adeptus Rex Lapis, and that he has been murdered. She declares that “Lady Ningguang will not forgive the culprit.”

The millelith begin securing the area accordingly, and Paimon panics*. We could have the sneaking quest again, but alternatively we could just skip straight to the next cutscene: while Traveller tries to escape, Childe grabs their hand and tells them “Come with me.”

(Childe had been in the area of Yujing Terrace earlier, but Traveller didn’t have the chance to talk to him yet because he was near the last altar, where the cutscene would trigger when they got close.)

Once they’ve escaped, the same conversation* happens where Childe tells them he’s a Fatui, Traveller prepares to fight him, Childe convinces them that they need his help, gives them the Sigil of Permission for Jueyan Karst, etc. Childe has to convince them that they’re a suspect a little more compared to the original, and amps up the blame on the Qixing*.

Traveller’s Jueyan Karst journey is the same*. However, the dialogue is a little different: the Adepti question why Ningguang sent a mortal to deliver the message to them, then they ask why she didn’t send a message at all. They are more enraged than ever over the death of Rex Lapis, whom they consider to be a friend and ally rather than the one they owe loyalty to.

After that’s done, Traveller returns and Childe introduces them to Zhongli*. It’s similar, but Zhongli explains that he has been instructed with the honour of carrying out the funeral for Rex Lapis, and as such will get to meet Lady Ningguang. If Traveller helps him out, he’ll bring them with him to meet her. Traveller agrees*. Childe is still funding*.

While the whole shopping fiasco with Zhongli could go exactly the same*, I think it’s more fun to merge Yanfei’s quest into it. Yanfei offers her services after Zhongli has trouble obtaining specific materials, and throughout the quest they can run into similar legal/scammy/bargaining scenarios. When Yanfei parts ways with us, she admits that she’s an adeptus but points out that the city needs legal advisors like her more than they need adepti*.

(Adding Yanfei’s quest here would be great because we would be introduced to Liyue’s culture of contracts early on, helping us understand Liyue better and hitting all the significant people anyway. It would also make a nice contrast with Zhongli’s cluelessness, and show the difference between adepti who are stuck in traditional ways vs adepti who were able to adapt.)

Zhongli brings Traveller to dinner, where they’re finally personally approached by Ganyu and invited to the Jade Chamber*. Zhongli says that it seems we don’t need his help after all since we’ve gotten the invitation by ourselves, but asks us to come to the funeral later anyway. Paimon assumes we won’t see Zhongli again until the funeral.

We meet Keqing on our way to the Jade Chamber*. She doesn’t ask us not to side with the Adepti exactly, but instead scold us a little for getting the Adepti involed at all. She says that “The Adepti live so far away from Liyue Harbour that they would never have known if you hadn’t told them.” Traveller also asks her how she knows that the adepti know, since we haven’t seen them since, and Keqing responds that Ningguang must trust the Qixing with this information, since they run Liyue with her.

In the Jade Chamber: (I can’t actually remember much of the dialogue from the original version...) but it should be similar-ish. The scene would probably be extra flashy to emphasise that she’s an Archon at first, then as she insists on being casual the filtering gets casual too. Ningguang tells her how much she trusts her, some of the history of Liyue (them coming together to protect Liyue during the war), and how the Adepti are angry with her about Rex Lapis’ death. She talks about the Fatui and how they’ve been trying to get a foothold here. She notes that she admires how Mondstadt has prevented them from having a hand in their running, but having a Harbringer in their city makes it difficult to push back against them. Ningguang asks Traveller what they think about Keqing, then sighs and says that she is very capable but very young. She mentions Yanfei, and explains that she is unique because she is half-adeptus and also very young. Traveller asks whether she thinks there’s no way for the rest of the Adepti to adapt to modern Liyue, and about Rex Lapis, and Ningguang skirts around those topics.

Traveller gets the information of the second Fatui base from Ningguang’s wall*. After that, actually going to the location is probably in Part 4.

When Part 4 starts, Traveller goes to the base, raids it, and finds the Sigils of Permission*. They are then caught by Childe. In the dialogue that follows, Paimon and Traveller accuse Childe of several things, including goading him that his plan of using Zhongli didn’t work. Childe laughs and reveals what we think is his whole plan: summon an Ancient God to attack all of Liyue Harbour. He says that leaving Traveller to babysit Zhongli was just to distract them, since he knew they would meddle with him otherwise. He also says that Morax, the Qixing and the Adepti are fighting each other now, and don’t have time to do anything except argue.

Traveller fights him*. The fight is pretty much the same, with him triggering his delusion and using Foul Legacy and being introduced as Tartaglia*. After he finishes fighting Traveller in Foul Legacy, he regrets it a little and says that he got carried away, but since Traveller is on the ground (conscious but) he begins the summoning for Osial.

(All of that can still take place in the Golden House with just an extra “Follow Childe” quest or by placing the Fatui base nearby and having Traveller follow a trail to there. I did think it would be cool if the base was in the Guyun Stone Forest instead, exactly where Osial was summoned. So after the summoning, Paimon yells at Traveller to teleport a distance away)

Cutscene where Traveller meets up with Ningguang, the Qixing, and the Adepti*. Paimon expresses surprise that they’re not fighting each other, they say that they’ve put aside their argument until Osial has been stopped, so on*. The fight and strategy would be almost identical, with Ningguang creating the platform and ballistas, and Traveller fighting the Fatui with the blessings of the Adepti.

This next cutscene is crucial. Instead of one of Osial’s attacks destroying the platform, one of the Fatui’s portals opens up behind Ningguang. Childe launches out from it and takes her Gnosis out of her body the same as with Venti. Ningguang’s concentration is broken and she nearly faints, which causes the whole platform to start breaking. Then Zhongli crashes in, catching Ningguang from her fall and immediately attempting to fight Childe. Childe is confused (“Zhongli-xiansheng..?”) and shocked, but Zhongli doesn’t try reasoning with him or saying anything at all, instead trying to fight him immediately. Childe is excited to engage in the fight, while Zhongli gets hurt immediately and is confused at why he’s so weak. However, the fight doesn’t last more than a few seconds, as Childe starts to run and Ningguang (weak and collapsing) tells Zhongli that they have to focus on protecting Liyue first, and the other Adepti go “This aura... Rex Lapis?”

They drop the Jade Chamber on Osial to defeat him*. Now comes the part where they explain everything that has been going on. The Adepti and the Qixing alike demand answers, the Adepti especially expressing that Zhongli has to be Rex Lapis. Ningguang explains most of it:

Some time back, Rex Lapis came to her saying that he wants to die. He’s tired from losing all of his old friends and working endlessly. “While I understand that it is the terms of my contract to serve you and Liyue, is there any way for this contract to end?”

(Zhongli notes that his experience with Yanfei showed him that contracts are much more complicated than they used to be)

Ningguang had agreed, because she thinks that Liyue is much safer than it was when she had signed those contracts with them, and if that was what Rex Lapis wished then so be it. However, she also thought it was too big of a decision to just not make use of.

The plan was that Rex Lapis would fake a very public death. After doing so (killing his original body) the rest of him would go into a human body where he will die at whatever human lifespan he made it to. This would allow Rex Lapis to live as a mortal under the name Zhongli for what to him was a very short amount of time. But because most of him was killed, he lost almost all of his power, reducing him to really just a mortal (still really strong, just weak in comparison to how he used to be as a Dragon and an Adeptus), which he unfortunately only realised the implications of when he couldn’t protect Ningguang from Childe.

The Adepti get angry and teary at Zhongli, saying that they really thought he was dead and scolding both of them for keeping it a secret. We get a few more emotional lines.

The plan was that Rex Lapis would fake a very public death. Ningguang would use this to stir up the people and sow distrust towards the Fatui, using it to drive them out. From her reports of Zhongli, she eventually guessed that Childe was planning to attack her at some point of the funeral shenanigans, which she was prepared for and planning to make use of. In short, she was hoping to get rid of the Fatui by using Rex Lapis’ death as a cover/excuse/catalyst.

But the Osial situation was beyond her expectations, and she wasn’t prepared for that. She doesn’t explain exactly what the Gnosis is to the people present, merely saying that it is important, and Keqing quips that Ningguang looks like hell right now. This launches into the Adepti vs Qixing conversation*.

The Adepti accuse Ningguang of not trusting them and trying to cut them out in favour of these mortals. The Qixing retort that the Adepti were only useful today because they needed to fight, even arguing that Cloud Retainer’s technology could only be put to use in the form of weaponry and nothing else. Madame Ping mediates the most*. Ningguang tells the Adepti that it wasn’t that she doesn’t trust them, but that she didn’t want them to have to get involved when they had already distanced themselves and were living peaceful lives in seclusion. She takes the Qixing’s side, but tries to explain to the Adepti why. The scene ends similarly to the original*. As they leave, the Adepti tell the Qixing and other humans to call them whenever Liyue needs their help.

That’s the end of the dramatic scene. At the funeral, things go pretty much the same*. Traveller hears people talking about the Fatui being the cause of everything* (Ningguang milked the Osial situation completely*). The Fatui are also blamed for Rex Lapis’ death. If the millelith still does make a speech, it would be that Lady Ningguang is cracking down on getting the Fatui out, which is met with positive reactions. Ningguang gives a speech at the funeral which honours Rex Lapis and reminds the people to work together for a new future of Liyue, but it would be less dramatic than the original.

When we talk to Zhongli, he explains some things: When he turned human, Ningguang gave him some money and a job and asked him to practice being human because she intended to give him an allowance to live on in the future. With the limited knowledge he had from never being a human before and the intense studying from a few books on funerals, Zhongli did his best. (He’d also accidentally fallen in love with a Fatui Harbringer oops). Traveller asks him what he’ll do now since he has some years left before his human body dies and he replies that he has absolutely no idea. After some thought, he mentions “I wonder whether Childe will forgive me...”

Traveller probably talks to Ganyu instead of Ningguang for the final ending (the part where they tell them about Inazuma*).

End.

Okay um so some notes about why I made Zhongli not-the-archon:

I was really frustrated that he seemed to not care about the mess he was making in Liyue at all. By making him a normal adeptus, it’s much more acceptable for him to walk away from all his duties because the responsibility doesn’t fall solely to him. Not only is Liyue not falling apart because their main Archon is still there, but he doesn’t bear the actual main responsibility at all.

Zhongli’s cluelessness when it comes to mora doesn’t make any sense if he was supposedly managing the whole country until last year. Plus, Liyue even trades with all other countries, so it’s not like he’s never had to be worried about losing money. By making this the first time he’s really experienced human society, his unbalanced knowledge and behaviour can seem more cute than incompetant. Even his rigidness towards his contracts and the details of the funeral can be explained because he’s probably also been living in seclusion like everyone else.

In the original story, Zhongli stood by while everyone else fought Osial, even though he still had his Gnosis, even though Liyue and all his Adepti’s lives were on the line. In this version, it was possible for Zhongli to interfere in the fight while still losing, because he was already a mortal. It makes him far more compelling because he actually tried to help.

The contract with Signora. We don’t know (yet) what the terms are, so for the the contract is just very annoying. It only serves to convince me that the Gnoses can’t actually be that important. Anyway, dramatic gnosis-stealing scene is what I prefer. At least we can have sympathy for the character - I can’t admire Zhongli for whatever smart decision he made because I don’t know what it is.

Overall, if you change Zhongli to a normal Adeptus, almost all of his existing dialogue reads much better without needing any changes, because the explanation is satisfactory.

Why make Ningguang Morax, then?

Ningguang is already introduced as if she is a god. People tell folktales of her, she displays complex high-level magic that we haven’t even seen Zhongli do (that platform and ballistas), she lives in a literal floating island in the sky that she built, etc. She’s also already running Liyue and doing well at it and has a strong sense of responsibility towards it. It makes sense for her to be the Archon.

Why not Keqing? First of all, Keqing’s elemental and physical abilities aren’t portrayed as particularly special (all of this is based on story bits, not the game mechanics). While she seems capable, the game doesn’t originally give her enough buildup and credit, and she’s portrayed as younger and more stubborn. But most importantly, Keqing is the key person on the Qixing side of the argument, so she needs to remain a Qixing.

Why add Yanfei’s quest in the middle:

The Liyue Archon quest went way too fast without getting us close to Liyue itself. Zhongli’s quest is meant to get us close to them, but he only brings us to people and spouts trivia. Yanfei’s quest embodies the “Contracts” aspect of Liyue so well and it would be really useful to go through that quest before we had to fight to defend Liyue.

If you compare Liyue to Mondstadt and Inazuma, you’ll see that you automatically get close to Mondstadt because it takes a long time to level in the early days of playing. Meanwhile, Inazuma requires you to complete Yoimiya’s quest (which shows the culture of “Eternity” in Inazuma) and Ayaka’s quest (which shows the people whp want to escape the “Eternity” in Inazuma, although Yoimiya’s quest is more important). Liyue doesn’t require any quests in between at all, yet players don’t neccessarily spend time there idly, so it’s hard to get to know Liyue.

Alternatively, Yanfei’s quest could just be a required quest between the parts instead of being integrated into the main Archon Quest itself.

Thanks for reading the Geo Archon Ningguang version of the Liyue Archon Quest.

[lovelyirony]

@ironmanspussy​ here we are, directly inspired by your wonderful texpost! 

King Rhodes needed a partner to rule. It was ancient law, something he hadn’t really desired to follow. But unfortunately, the lawyers are assholes and want to create a monopoly of power that he just simply hasn’t the time to dismantle if he’s to follow his ten-year policy plan.

His partner should be well-mannered, aware of high society dress codes as well as how to navigate regular, everyday wear, and be calm in times of crisis.

So begins the search.

“You’re not going to find someone you like like that,” his advisor, Carol says, laughing. “I guarantee it.”

“We’ll see,” Rhodes decides.

Oh, they saw.

They saw a lot.

Almost every single candidate is bad. Or just off, in some way.

“Rogers seemed like a nice fit,” Carol says, tapping on her clipboard.

"He was nice, not for me. A bit too much.”

“What, muscle?”

“You could say that’s a factor. He’s also just a little too take-charge-of-everything.”

“Mm, that could pose a problem later. Well, the candidates who most matched your requirements are all out.”

“You’re kidding.”

“You’re a very particular kind of guy, Jim. So here are the rest.”

“Send in the clowns,” Rhodes says, waving his hand in dismissal and drawing the other one to his forehead to signal a headache about to come on.

“You just sent Barnes out,” Danvers reminds him, grinning.

“Asshole.”

“I’m still getting paid!” Carol sing-songs.

-

It’s almost better. Almost. Prince Clint Barton is an impossibly good marksman, and...that’s about it. His leadership style is far different from the Rhodes kingdom needs and he admits that he almost showed up in jeans.

Well, at least there’s honesty. Rhodes could find that forgivable.

But the jeans. Good god.

-

Bruce Banner is a total sweetheart, but his constitution is quite poor and again with the fashion choices. He shows up in a very nice outfit and has a nice wit about him.

They talk at length, and Carol swears that it will go well and perhaps there will actually be a wedding by June, all things said and considered.

This is until Rhodes leads Dr. Banner out to the gardens to meet Thor, their part-time warrior and full-time gardener.

Thor is completely gone on the scientist-ruler, and there it is.

“This is supposed to be your matchmaking,” Carol reminds him, scowling. “It was going well.”

“Once he met Thor anyways, it would have been all over. You know Thor’s type. The scientists that could ruin the earth if they truly had the thought to.”

“I suppose you’re right. Next person, then. She looks promising, Empress Romanov?”

-

Natasha Romanov is a terrifying figure. Very, very terrifying.

That being said, she has excellent taste in fashion and promised to send Rhodes some reviews, but “unfortunately has her heart spoken for.”

(It’s not very unfortunate. Rhodes feared for his life.)

-

He’s about to lose it, to be completely honest. Is there seriously no one out there?

“Your last candidate, at least for this month, is Tony Stark. High-profile inventor.”

“Not royalty?”

“Essentially, he is. Dad helped create weapons, he followed with protection and medical detail. He usually doesn’t agree to meet, so you’ll have to ask him why.”

“Refuse to meet royalty?”

“People.”

-

Tony Stark did, in fact, refuse to meet people. In general, people were not his strong suit and he saw no point to marriage.

“If you marry well, you get more access to resources for your reacting thing,” Pepper says.

“My reactor. I’ve told you that a million times.”

“And I’ve forgotten it a million and one. But if you meet Rhodes, he’s probably your best chance of not marrying a total shit royal.”

“And why is that?”

“Searching online for your answer is free, I am not. Your bill will be sent to your inbox.”

Tony stares after Pepper. She’s too damn capable.

He sighs to himself.

He does need more funding for his projects. His father cut him off completely and while that wouldn’t be the worst thing, Tony’s not going to charge obscene prices just to keep himself afloat.

So...marrying a royal. Not the best plan in the world, especially given Tony’s track record with people. Sure, he can play the part. But he just...won’t.

-

This is why Tony’s about five minutes late, cursing up a blue streak at a guard that has followed him into the hall because due to his appearance he thinks he needs to have a “check-in” with the people at the front desk for appointments, and in general? The day has been bad.

Also, Pepper forced him into “nice” clothes. While Tony can and has worn his nice clothing before, he does not like the ones that Pepper chose because they are uncomfortable, stiff, and absolutely a bit too long.

So he trips on the carpet.

“Motherfucker!”

Rhodes’ head pops away from his conversation with the chef regarding the dinner menu.

Here is a man with probably the most intricately embroidered robes he’s ever seen on, hair that looks like it was probably not even styled, just brushed through, and had about the entirety of the guard behind him asking him about an appointment time.

Obviously, he’s the most attractive man Rhodes has ever seen in his life.

“And who are you?” he asks.

“Tony. Stark. Mechanic and inventor. Um, you talked to Pepper about me? I think I’m in your circle of potential candidates for ruling. It’s totally fine if you kick me out, I kind of scuffed your carpet.”

“We need new carpet anyway,” Carol says. “We’ll disregard your entrance for now, Stark.”

“Tony, please.”

“Tony,” Carol says slowly, smiling. “You will be walking around the gardens with King Rhodes, pausing for dinner.”

“Cool.”

Rhodes has to stop from laughing. Cool. He’s already a fan of this.

Carol leans over to him, whispering in his ear.

“I thought you wanted someone who had a cool head, not someone like that.”

“Well, I can be wrong every once in a while.”

“Or more.”

“Every once in a while,” Rhodes reiterates. “Besides, I have a good feeling about this.”

“Hm.”

-

Walking through a garden with a stranger is not as smooth as one would expect. Rhodes isn’t exactly well-versed in asking people what their plans are for the future, and if they are amenable to perhaps marriage.

“What do you do for fun?” Tony asks.

He’s sort of taken aback at the question.

“Pardon me?”

“What do you do for fun?” he repeats. “Like, do you cook? Sew? Duel with your rivals? What do you do for fun?”

Well. He has to think for a moment.

“I go on runs.”

“That is not fun. Don’t tell me that that’s what’s fun for you.”

“What, can’t run?”

“I don’t run, there’s a difference. I’ll run when something’s chasing me.”

“And yet you won’t have training, like I will.”

“Did you forget my trade, Your Imminence?” Tony asks, voice mocking him.

It’s honestly refreshing. Rhodes doesn’t like it when people are so serious around him, so afraid to disappoint.

“An inventor? You’re going to invent a way to run better?”

“To fly, honey. Honestly...”

-

After that, it’s a dead-set decision from Rhodes.

He offers his hand in marriage, as well as the crown. Tony blinks.

“You haven’t even seen me take a turn in the ballroom.”

“It’s either going to be wildly entertaining or surprising, and I can’t wait for either.”

-

Tony enters his own room, in a panic.

This has to go well. He has to dress to impress.

“Pepper, he’s holding a party for our engagement. I have to dress nicely.”

“You know how to do that, I don’t know why you’re telling me that.”

“There are so many factors. Do you know anyone who can embroider his family crest on any shoes? What colors I’m meant to do? Oh my god, we have to fuse the colors together. This is going to be a disgrace. I’ll be exiled to be a hermit in the forest who relies on bark for sustenance, and this--”

“Can you. Potentially, maybe, chill? It’ll be fine.”

“You say that, but right now I’m imagining having to go to war because I didn’t wear the right color of red, so...”

“You are literally the worst person alive.”

“False, we both know Justin Hammer and out of the two of us, I think you’d want to date me more.”

“Don’t be a smartass.”

“Just practical, Pep. Just practical. Now help me shade match Rhodey’s red.”

“He’s Rhodey now?”

“In my head? Yes. I don’t like Rhodes, I absolutely will not call him Jim until we both hit seventy years old.”

“Better let him know that.”

-

Rhodes gets a text from Tony.

so a.) your new nickname from me is rhodey. don’t question it, honeybear. Anyways, would you say your royal family color is closer to garnet-red or blood-red?

Rhodey blinks. He likes the nickname. It’s different. He has to show the text to Carol.

“What in the hell does that mean?”

“Let me google it.”

She analyzes the results, frowning.

“I’m thinking blood-red.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

“Why does he want to know the color?”

“I don’t know, I’ll ask.”

we’ve decided it matches closer to blood-red, Tones. Why do you ask?

Tony blinks. Other nickname. Interesting. He likes it.

my outfit choice relies heavily on this.

He leaves it at that, grinning as he puts his phone away.

Rhodey is laughing. He’s excited to see his husband-to-be.

-

Tony knows he looks damned good. The whole outfit is incredible. Red with gold stitching throughout, and he got his hair to cooperate to be artfully messy instead of just messy.

“I’m surprised at you, you clean up well,” Pepper teases. “You ready to go and make your debut?”

“As ready as ever,” Tony says, fixing the chain around his neck. The gold glints off the lights, and he knows he’s about to be the best dressed person in the room, with perhaps the exception of Rhodey.

He knows that most people are surprised that he’s the one that King Rhodes has decided to marry. He’s not known for being a particularly polite royal. In fact, he has told multiple members of royalty to “get fucked or get out of my way” when they want him to build something that he refuses to build.

So he’s not exactly the perfect choice. But his outfit is still the best in the room.

“Hi gorgeous,” Rhodey says, smiling. “You look incredible.”

“Well I do know how to make an entrance, after all,” Tony says. “You’ll find out this is only the tip of the iceberg.”

“Well then, I’m in for treats all my life,” Rhodey says. “How are you tonight, Tones?”

“Doing well, finished up working on one of the cars for Thor today.”

“Wait, you’re the one who’s refinishing it? He hasn’t been able to shut up about it for weeks! I was the one who used to look at it.”

“You like fixing up cars?”

“Yes, of course I do!”

-

From there, conversation flows. They understand each other well, laugh at the same jokes, and agree on cake flavors.

It’s not love, not yet. But they’re getting there.

-

It is officially love when Tony steals Rhodey from his royal duties to get a cheeseburger.

“Sometimes it’s good to get out of the throne, don’t you think?” Tony says, grinning over his sunglasses.

“For a cheeseburger? Can’t say I’ve ever done anything like that.”

“That’s because you’re all fancy and posh, I bet you don’t even know the f-word,” Tony says.

“Fuck you,” Rhodey jokes.

Tony gasps. “The king knows a curse word? Oh my lord! What...shame you bring to your family!”

Rhodey laughs, and it’s in this moment that he realizes that spending the rest of his days with Tony is potentially the best possible option in the world.

“I’m so glad we’re getting married,” he says. Tony stills.

“You...you are?”

“You’re the best thing to happen to me, I think,” Rhodey says, taking a sip of water as if he hasn’t just said the sweetest thing Tony’s ever heard. “And I hope that I’m the best thing to ever happen to you.”

“I mean I don’t know, the AC/DC reunion tour was pretty sick...” Tony says, grinning. “I’m kidding. Rhodey, I think we’re gonna be a good team. And I’m glad that I get to be with you.”

-

Their wedding is the talk of the year. Literally no one can shut up about it, but maybe that’s because Tony accidentally showed up late because he was inventing and had wild hair and maybe a stray grease-stain on his forehead.

Rhodey just grinned.

“You better not be late to the reception.”

“I’ll try my best. You know how I am.”

They kiss, and Rhodey sends him into a deep dip. Tony laughs into the kiss, and it becomes one of the most well-known photographs of the year.

-

Sure, Rhodey didn’t exactly get all of the qualifications that he wanted out of his ruling partner. Tony is absolutely not calm in times of crisis, and stress-bought novelty socks.

He more than once told a difficult business partner to “absolutely get fucked up on a Thursday, see if I give a singular shit when my husband is ten times better than you,” and also has a certain unawareness of some of his public outfit choices. (Hello sweatpants with holes in them and a striped hoodie.)

But Tony makes the best coffee ever, always gets Rhodey flowers from the supermarket, and is perhaps the most compassionate man he’s ever met.

So not a bad trade-off.

They lay in bed together, Rhodey looking over his obscenely trashy detective novels with his reading glasses, and Tony battling Pepper in a word search competition online.

“I love you,” Tony says out of nowhere, smiling. He presses a kiss to Rhodey’s shoulder.

“You’re okay,” Rhodey responds, patting Tony’s thigh.

He makes a squawk of outrage as Rhodey’s head turns from his book, grinning.

“You better give me a kiss to make up for that,” Tony demands. Rhodey rolls his eyes.

“Of course, drama queen.”

“Drama queen? I was told by the love of my life that I was ‘okay’ after one year of marriage? And I am supposed to be unaffected? Absolutely unacceptable, I think I will fling myself into a pit in the ocean, and--”

Rhodey cuts him off with a kiss.

“Or not. Not could definitely work.”

[heavenly-roman]

how sweet it is (to be loved by you)

part two of my @sanderssidesgiftxchange fic for @figurative-siren-song !! warnings and plot are on the first chapter

chapter one - chapter two

+++

“Your Majesties,” Virgil greets, bowing before the King and Queen.

“Prince Virgil,” says the King. “Shouldn’t you be with our son right about now?”

“Yes, well…” Virgil begins. “I came to see you with your son in mind.”

“Is there something wrong?” asks the Queen.

“Not at all!” he reassures, plastering on a nervous smile. “It’s just… Has Prince Janus ever spoken to you about his sexuality?”

“I believe that’s something you have to discuss with him, Prince Virgil,” the King says, stern but sympathetic. “However, I believe I understand what’s going on here.”

Virgil’s head shoots up. “You do?”

“Of course we do, dear,” the Queen chuckles. “We were once young and in love, it’s clear you have feelings for our son.”

The Prince cringes. “It is?”

“Abundantly,” the King confirms. “I’ll give you some advice. Our son is a very private person, it takes a lot to get him to trust you. You’re clearly doing something right, Prince Virgil.”

“And for what it’s worth,” adds the Queen, “we wouldn’t pick a spouse for our son just willy nilly. You’re good for him.”

“Thank you, Your Majesties,” Virgil says, a little awestruck by their discussion.

“Anything for our future son-in-law,” smiles the Queen.

+++

Virgil, to his credit, does his best to not bring it up again.

It takes four days, nine hours, twelve minutes, and thirty-three seconds for him to bring it up again.

The two are laying opposite of each other on Janus’ bed, both staring at the ceiling.

“I just don’t understand why it’s such a big deal, Jay!” Virgil says.

Janus shoves the leg closest to him. “Because it’s personal information,” he snaps.

“But we’re engaged.”

“And? We could be perfect strangers during our marriage if we really wanted to be,” Janus sighs. “We’re lucky we got to meet each other before the wedding. Why should I tell you anything about myself?”

Virgil sits up, pulling his legs into his chest. He picks at his nails, not stopping even when Janus scolds him for it.

“I just… I thought we were friends, you know? And… friends share things about themselves.”

Janus sits up as well, shuffling so his crossed legs are touching Virgil’s. “Hey, no, I didn’t mean— We are friends, Vee.”

“So why won’t you tell me something so simple?” Virgil snaps, though he doesn’t mean to.

“Because it’s not simple!” Janus huffs. “I have no clue what’s going on in my head and that should be okay!”

“It— it is okay, but why didn’t you just say that?”

“Because… Because you have yourself all figured out, and I should, but I don’t, and it’s embarrassing,” Janus admits. “I thought you’d like… judge me or something.”

“You know I wouldn’t have,” Virgil says, softer than the rest of the conversation. He hesitates. “Is there anything I can do? To help you figure it out?”

“Virgil, are you flirting with me?” Janus smirks.

“No, dear god, why do you always think—”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding, you know I am,” Janus smiles, much more genuine than the earlier teasing. “If you don’t mind, you could tell me how you knew?”

“Oh, um,” he chuckles. “I may have had a crush on one of the knight’s sons? He had fancy hair and a nice smile and I thought, wow, he’s pretty, and I realized I’d never thought of a girl that way.”

“And what happened to your knight in shining armour, hm?” Janus teases. “Did he sweep you off your feet?”

“He was my first kiss, but we never officially dated. He ended up with the royal advisor's son, actually. They’re scheduled to be married next month, I believe.”

“So I won’t lose my fiancé to his first love, then?” Janus laughs, and Virgil pretends he doesn’t notice the anxiety that creeps into the other prince's words.

“No, Jay, you’re stuck with me,” laughs Virgil. There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes, and Janus briefly fears for his life. “Who was your first kiss?”

Janus mumbles something that Virgil doesn’t hear. “What was that?” he taunts.

“I haven’t kissed anyone,” grumbles Janus. “Must you bully me for everything?”

“I must, yes,” Virgil sings. “It’s my job as best friend.”

“You’re an acquaintance at best.”

“You love me.”

“Yeah. I guess I do.”

+++

Virgil is determined to be Janus’ first kiss. A little creepy? Maybe, but if Janus is going to be his husband, they should at least kiss, right?

That’s what Virgil’s going with, anyway.

“Virgil?” Janus pops his head into Virgil’s room, the latter being startled out of his totally platonic thoughts.

“What’s up, Jay?”

“Take a walk with me?”

Virgil nods, getting up a little too eagerly to spend time with his friend. They walk in silence, greeting the occasional palace guard as they pass.

They make their way to the garden, Janus leading them to a small gazebo that looks out into the foliage. A bench awaits, and the two sit, silent and still.

“Is everything okay?” Virgil asks, gentle, as if not to startle Janus.

“I….” Janus starts, trailing off. He doesn’t look back at Virgil, just staring off into the flower bushes.

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” Virgil reminds. He almost reaches his hand out, comforting, before retracting it. “Take your time.”

The silence drags on, and Virgil would be lying if he said he wasn’t anxious. He bounces his leg and looks around the gazebo. The entrance is lined with flowers, all in varying shades of oranges and yellows.

“I’m gay.”

Virgil’s head whips to face Janus, who still isn’t looking at him.

“I thought about what you said, about your crush on the knight's son. I’ve never felt that way, really towards anyone.”

“Janus, that doesn’t mean you’re—”

“I’ve never felt that way towards anyone, until I met you.”

“Excuse me?”

Janus turns, making the most intense eye contact Virgil has ever experienced. “Forgive me if this is too forward, but you are the most wonderful person I have ever had the pleasure of meeting.”

“Virgil, I can’t say I’m in love with you, but I can say that I’m about as close to it as I can be without being head over heels.”

Virgil stares, mouth agape for longer than Janus is comfortable after his confession.

“Close your mouth darling, you’ll catch flies,” Janus says, his usual charm mixing with the current anxiety.

The silence drags on until Janus breaks it again. “Virgil, please, at least say—”

And Virgil’s lips are on Janus’ before he can finish his sentence. Janus places his hands on Virgil’s cheeks, silently keeping him close, though Virgil has no plan to move any time soon.

“I love you,” Virgil whispers against his fiancé’s lips. “I’ve loved you since our first trip to the library. I’ve loved you for so long Janus, I love you.”

“Don’t waste all your declarations at once, Virgil,” Janus teases, smiling into the kiss. (His first kiss. His first kiss with his fiancé, who he just confessed his Almost Love to. Wow.)

“I’m not,” Virgil chuckles. “We’ve got our whole lives to say it, dearest. I love you.”

[zelenacat]

When We Were Young- An Obitine Story- Chapter 20

As the lady left, Parna handed Satine her buzzing comm.

“It’s Ben.” the Duchess gasped.

“I’ll,” Parna practically ran, “be outside.”

Satine clicked to respond.

“Excuse me, Cody.”

The Duchess waited until she heard a door close.

“I know you must be furious-”

“Satine,” the Jedi interrupted, “I’m worried.”

“Honestly,” the Duchess confessed, “so am I.”

A knock graced the door and Khaami poked her head in.

“Celery?”

Satine grinned and took the plate, “Thank you, Khaami.”

The lady curtsied and left.

“Celery?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Cravings.” Satine answered.

“Ah,” the Jedi grew pensive, “how are they?”

Satine giggled, “Baby A is a fighter, she kept kicking during the meeting today.”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow, “Really?”

“Yes, fortunately Baby B seems to like her beauty rest.”

Obi-Wan chuckled, “My girls.”

A moment of silence passed.

“Ben,” Satine began, “about our four eldest children-”

Obi-Wan frowned, “I assume they aren’t receptive to the idea of meeting me.”

“Circumstance will push them into your path,” Satine responded, trying to be kind, “but I’d love to tell you about them.”

“Oh?”

“Mara is the youngest of our grown ones,” Satine’s pictured the girl in her mind, “she has your hair and is quite convincing when it comes to the mind.”

The Jedi gaped.

“Come now, Obi,” Satine  gestured, “you needn’t worry, she was raised by my lady’s brother.”

“What’s he like?”

Satine faltered, “A criminal.”

Obi-Wan began to cough, the Duchess laughed.

“She has a heart of gold, though, our Mara,” Satine smiled, “and I gave her access to the palace library, she’s told me archeology interests her.”

“A scholar?” asked the Jedi.

“No, Ben,” Satine shook her head, “that’s more Tristan, her twin brother.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes glowed, “What’s he like?”

“A studious future doctor who loves to enjoy life.”

The Jedi tilted his head at his Duchess, waiting for more information.

Satine sighed, “He and his brother once snuck down into the wine cellar, fortunately, we caught them.”

Obi-Wan snorted.

“It was his older brother’s fault though, Korkyrach.”

The Jedi whistled, “That’s a Mandalorian name.”

“Obi,” Satine scolded, “he’s our first born.”

Obi-Wan turned sheepish.

“Also,” the Duchess added, “we call him Korkie.”

The Jedi raised his eyebrows, “The Duke of Sundari?”

“You’ve heard of him?”

Obi-Wan blushed, “I’ve searched images of you and seen him in pictures close by.

Satine put a hand on her heart, “Aw.”

“He looks like my son.”

“Acts like it too,” Satine added, “he attends the Royal Academy of Government, and I’m sure you’ve heard about the time he convinced his friends to sneak out with him onto government property.”

“They had a noble cause.” the Jedi argued with a smile.

“And then,” the Duchess lowered her eyes, “there’s Tyra Satine.”

“What about her?” Obi-Wan asked, suddenly worried.

“You may have seen her,” Satine flushed, “Quinlan’s padawan.”

Obi-Wan gaped.

“Vos,” he asked, “Vos has been responsible for raising my daughter?”

“Only one of them.”

The Jedi sighed, “I always felt her force signature was strange.”

Satine frowned, “So it’s possible to sense children, then?”

Obi-Wan understood immediately, “If Count Dooku visited you, he would likely feel the twins, yes.”

The Duchess took out her anger on a piece of celery.

The Jedi shook his head, “I can’t believe my daughter is a Republic Spy.”

“I heard about that,” Satine confessed, “does she do dangerous things?”

“Not as much as her Master,” Obi-Wan paused, “God. I have to thank him.”

The Duchess swallowed, “So you’re being traded for Master Fisto?”

There was a soft pleasantness in Obi-Wan’s voice, “Yes, two weeks and I’ll be back.”

“Wonderful,” Satine breathed, “that’s wonderful.”

The Jedi sighed, “I’m still upset you decided to keep this from me for nearly eighteen years.”

“It seemed like the right idea at the time,” Satine confessed, “I’m sorry, Ben.”

“How could it seem right?” Obi-Wan spat.

The Duchess sensed this would be a wound that would never close.

“I’m sorry, Obi-Wan.”

The Jedi leaned up against the wall, “That’s it.”

Satine kept a cool tone, “I’ve loved my children since the moment I knew they existed, and I’ve sacrificed so much so that they could live. Anything that would’ve jeopardized that, including telling you, was something I couldn’t afford to do.”

Obi-Wan swallowed, “I understand why you did what you did, but I don’t know if I will ever forgive you.”

“I expected as much.” Satine admitted.

After a moment, the Jedi stood upright.

“When can I meet the children,” he asked, “I want to see them all together, is that safe?”

“If Tyra comes to Mandalore with Quinlan,” Satine began, “then all our children will be within easy reach.”

“She’ll only come if Count Dooku decides to court you.”

Satine deflated.

“By the way,” Obi-Wan crossed his arms, “I don’t like this marriage scheme.”

“Honestly, neither do I.” the Duchess agreed.

The Jedi gestured wildly, “Then why?”

“To protect my people,” Satine sighed, grabbing a piece of celery, “we intercepted some of his operatives, he wants to take Mandalore.”

Obi-Wan nodded, “So you want to give him another option first.”

“Yes.”

The Jedi frowned, “Do not underestimate Count Dooku.”

“I won’t,” Satine shook her head, “they say he’s cunning.”

“He’s almost bested me at times.” Obi-Wan confessed.

“Not you,” Satine gasped, “Anakin mentioned he complimented you once.”

Obi-Wan snorted.

“What?”

The Jedi raised an eyebrow, “Oh, so you talk with Anakin now, do you?”

“He and Pamde have,” Satine paused, “similar circumstances.”

“Children?”

“No,” the Duchess shook her head, “but they’re married-”

“What!”

“And Padme wants a few.”

Satine laughed at Obi-Wan’s gaff.

“It’s true,” she winked, “how do you think we get along so well?”

Obi-Wan sighed, “Ahsoka called you ‘Momdalore”’ in passing the other day.”

The Duchess grinned, “She asked me to my face if she could call me that.”

“No?”

“Yes.”

Obi-Wan sighed, “What a strange family we are.”

Satine felt hopeful, “Family?”

The Jedi didn’t shy away from the question, “Well what else would I call the mother of my children?”

The Duchess blushed, he had a point.

“Have you thought about names?” Obi-Wan asked out of the blue.

“I,” Satine paused, “I like two names.”

“Let’s hear ‘em.” the Jedi prodded.

“Lyra,” Satine smiled, “it’s an ancient constellation.”

“Beautiful.” whispered Obi-Wan, eyes shining.

“And,” the Duchess hesitated, “I was hoping to name the other one Jynn.”

Satine looked at her Jedi, he was at war with himself.

“If you don’t like it-”

“I love it,” Obi-Wan spurred, “but, could the connection be a problem?”

“What do you mean?”

“Her force signature,” the Jedi frowned, now serious, “it would be reminiscent of mine and yours.”

“I don’t know where she’ll be raised, Ben.”

Obi-Wan straightened.

“Obi,” Satine swallowed, “they can only live at the Temple if they manifest abilities. I can’t claim another false sibling. Mara had to be raised by a criminal for crying out loud!”

“Despite all this,” the Jedi forced Satine’s eyes to his, “and you still keep them?”

“I love every part of you I have,” the Duchess answered without hesitation, “I will always keep them.”

Obi-Wan reached out, as if to caress her cheek. Then flinched, realizing he couldn't.

“Two weeks.” Satine offered.

“Two weeks.” Obi-Wan repeated.

An unsure pause, hesitation.

“Sleep well, darling.”

“Goodnight, Obi.”

Duchess Satine awoke naturally the next morning, which was strange, because Parna or Khaami usually came to her. 

“I really should see the Duchess.” urged the Prime Minister.

“I can tell her whatever is necessary.” Gorg replied.

“You are the Captain of the Guard, correct?”

“Yes.”

Whispers followed, then receding footsteps. Gorg knocked and poked his head in.

“The tabloids are having a field day,” his eyes finding her stomach, “Count Dooku announced his intentions to court you an hour ago. Also, your stepping down on the Council turned some heads.”

Satine groaned.

“Khaami has gone to greet Padawan Tyra, who the council decided to send only,” Gorg continued, “Parna called to have Korkie sent home for lunch and many Mandalorians aren’t pleased.”

The Duchess paled.

“I should also warn you that there are fears of violent demonstrations-”

“Stop,” Satine’s voice wobbled, “tell Parna to come to me immediately.”

The Duchess jumped out of bed and ran to her closet, searching for anything and everything white.

“My lady-”

“Help me dress,” Satine interjected, “quickly.”

Parna obeyed, and in ten minutes the Duchess had her corset tight and a simple gown over her head made of ivory lace.

“My hair should be pulled back,” Satine added, “let them see my face.”

“Of course.”

By the time Parna finished, Satine wondered if she had made a huge mistake, and voiced her concerns to her lady.

“You are doing what is right to protect Mandalore,” Parna assured, “the people will see that soon enough.”

The Duchess nodded and went in search of her Prime Minister, on the way, she found Khaami and Tyra.

“Your Grace,” the Jedi curtsied, speaking in Mando’a, “I am here for your assistance in anything you might need.”

A sob escaped Satine’s throat and she held out her arms. Tyra embraced her fully.

“A Padawan for protection,” Jaru Djarin observed, “let us hope this helps.”

“I will stay in the shadows,” Tyra frowned, “the Jedi Council would prefer I remain out of sight.”

“As would I.” the Prime Minister agreed.

Khaami cleared her throat.

“Your advisors are preparing a public response to the Count,” she stated, “and there’s a Press Conference scheduled food this afternoon.”

Satine nodded, naturally, these were all very good ideas.

“Perhaps we should set up a meeting with the clan leaders,” Prime Minister Djarin offered, “let them understand what is going on first hand.”

“Yes,” Satine agreed.

Jaru bowed, “I will get on that.”

“Khaami,” Satine turned, “I would like my nephew’s close acquaintance, Tristan Wren to be at the palace as well, can you make that happen?”

The lady curtsied, “Yes, Your Grace.”

The Duchess pulled Parna close.

“Ask your brother to come visit.” she ordered.

“Yes, Your Grace.” Parna nodded.

Satine smiled at Tyra, “Padawan, may I present my head guards, Gorg and Jaym.”

Tyra extended her hand, and said that she was happy to help protect the Duchess, in Mando’a, of course.

“A Mandalorian Jedi?” whispered Jaym, in awe.

“Please,” Satine was proud at her daughter’s graceful conduct, “call me Tyra.”

“Tyra.”

“Come now,” Satine instructed, “I have to meet with my advisors.”

Everyone around the table looked worried, even after they had prepared the answers to specific questions and given Satine an exact script to read from. Satine’s poll had also arrived. 40% of Mandalorians wanted to stay neutral, 50% disagreed and wanted to choose a side so they wouldn’t be affected, another 10% were unsure. They had an hour till the press conference.

“Perhaps the best way to hide your Padawan is in plain sight,” Prime Minister Djarin advised, “make her one of your ladies, have her follow you wherever.”

Satine gave a small smile, “I would like that.”

“Come, Padawan Tyra,” Parna stood, grinning, “I will help you change into clothing befitting a Mandalorian noblewoman.”

Tyra beamed, and Satine gave her a wink before they left the room.

“I suggest you eat something, Your Grace,” Khaami advised, “it’s been quite the day.”

“Yes,” Satine stood, “I would like that, thank you.”

After she ate, Parna returned with Tyra. The Duchess gasped when she saw her. Dressed in a navy blue dress cinched at the waist with a purple belt and her hair up in a braided bun, Satine thought her daughter looked like a princess. She was a princess.

“Lady Mother,” Tyra curtsied, grinning like a little girl, “how do I look.”

“Lovely, Daughter of Mine,” Satine answered in Mando’a, “simply lovely.”

Tyra embraced her mother and kissed her on the cheek.

“I’m glad to be of service, Your Grace.”

“Come,” Satine grabbed Tyra’s hand, “we have a press conference to go to.”

As they walked, Khaami and Parna offered Tyra advice on how to behave in front of the cameras.

“Stand still and keep your face neutral,” Khaami advised, “you're only there for the Duchess.”

“And remember to address the Duchess as ‘Her Grace’ in the presence of strangers,” Parna winked, “secrets stay secrets.”

Tyra smiled, nodding.

“And don’t reach for your lightsaber.” Satine added.

Tyra patted her leg, “This dress hides everything.”

“Good.”

The Press room was large and bright, Satine blinked as she took her seat. Khaami, Parna, and Tyra stood behind her. The Prime Minister took a seat on Satine’s right, and one of her unlucky personal advisors sat on the left.

Then, the floodgates opened and voices mounted.

“Your Grace-”

“Your Grace, what-”

“Over here, Your Grace-”

An aide handed the Prime Minister a microphone.

“Quiet please,” Jaru thundered, “Her Grace will answer your questions in an orderly matter.”

The room shushed, and Satine pointed to a reporter in the front.

“We understand you polled the Mandalorian population on their war stances,” began the reporter, “what were those results and did they affect your decision to change your view on the war?” 

Satine breathed in, “Our poll of the Mandalorian people indicated that they seem to believe neutrality is harming them, yet fighting is still an egregious offense that they rather not partake in.”

“The majority of our people,” Satine continued, “though not all, would like our country to choose a side. I do not wish to offend any of my people, however small a minority, but I feel that spearheading the Council of Neutral Systems should not be Mandalore’s priority in that sense. My personal thoughts on the war do not matter.”

The next reporter asked about which side of the war Mandalore would join if any.

“Mandalore will not pick a side until it is inherently clear that we prefer one side over the other.” Satine answered.

“How will Mandalore act in the meantime, then?” asked a third reporter.

“We will continue to operate as a neutral party interested in securing their needs, whoever is willing to offer them.”

It was an hour of diplomatic diverting until Count Dooku’s name came up.

“Like I said earlier,” Satine smiled tightly, “Mandalore will not pick a side until it is clear we, as a people, can unilaterally make that decision.”

“But will the Count be received by your court?” pressed the reporter.

The Duchess raised an eyebrow, “If he intends to come I shall not refuse him an audience, but that is his choice.”

An hour after the press conference ended, the Mandalorian Ambassador to the Seperatist Senate returned to Mandalore.

“The Right Honorable Count Dooku will come in two months” he stated, “there are arrangements he must make first.”

“Thank you,” Satine nodded, “continue to act as my voice in the Speratist Senate.”

“The Count also sent you a hologram to be reviewed at your leisure,” the Ambassador voiced carefully, holding out a device, “shall I give it to your ladies?”

“Please.” 

Tyra stepped forward and was given the device, she then looked to the Duchess.

“My quarters.”

Tyra curtsied and left. Satine thanked the ambassador again, he bowed. Hera met Satine and her ladies upstairs in her personal parlor.

“Nurse Hera,” Khaami began, “this is Tyra, Satine’s newest lady, she knows.”

Tyra held out her hand, “Nurse.”

Hera shook it, “My lady.”

“I called you here,” Satine began, “because I am extremely nervous for this recording.”

Hera frowned, “Count Dooku.”

“Word travels fast.” Parna observed.

Satine sat down and patted the bed next to her for Tyra.

“I’m pressing play.” Khaami warned.

The Sith Apprentice’s blue form appeared. On Satine’s first judgement, she thought he was adequately handsome. Then she remembered he killed people for a living and frowned. Also, she had Obi-Wan.

“Dear Duchess,” the Count grinned slyly, “I was quite surprised to receive your message, though I was very sorry about poor Jaira Deere, I am happy you agreed to put that behind us and start anew.”

Tyra mimed vomiting.

“The Jedi will likely try to offer you something to counterbalance this action,” Count Dooku straightened, “but I can tell you they are going to lose the war soon, so I advise you not to accept whatever they think they can give you.”

“He’s on the verge of telling you something,” Tyra frowned, “but he doesn’t believe you are trustworthy yet.”

Satine raised an eyebrow at her daughter’s insight.

“I look forward to meeting you in two months, Duchess.”

A second passed, then two.

Satine sighed, “I am quite nervous about all this.”

“Don’t worry, Lady Mother,” Tyra kissed her mother’s cheek, “I’m really here to spy on the Count, and report back to the council, I’ll make sure you’re alright.”

“I don’t want you fighting a Sith Lord, Tyra Satine.” the Duchess confessed.

“It’s alright, Lady Mother,” Tyra smiled, punching the air, “it’s what I’ve been trained to do.”

Hera raised an eyebrow, “I suppose this is one of the ones you were about to tell me existed.”

“Lady Tyra is really the Duchess’ daughter,” Parna explained, “but that’s a secret.”

A knock pounded on the door.

“Your Grace,” Jaym opened the door, “the Duke of Sundari is here with Tristan Wren, and Lady Parna’s brother has come with his apprentice.”

“Well then,” Satine stood, “we’ll be right down.”

They met in the receiving room then headed out to the gardens.

“This is my new lady, Tyra,” the Duchess grinned, winking at her sons, “I’m glad you get to meet her.”

“Nice to meet you, Lady Tyra.” Korkie bowed.

“Same here,” Tyra commented dryly, “Your Grace.”

Tristan snorted.

“Come now,” Satine clapped, “I fancy a stroll through the gardens.”

Tyra and Mara linked arms, then pulled Tristan and Korkie into the fold.

“Children.” Parna grinned, her voice quiet.

Five minutes had gone by before an aide came running out.

“Your Grace,” she huffed, “the Jedi Council-”

Korkie audibly grunted. 

“Are on the line.” the aide panted.

“I’ll be right there,” Satine eyed her children, especially Korkie, “do not enter when I speak to the Council.”

“Of Course, Your Grace.” Tyra curtsied, face low to hide her smile.

Parna and Khaami accompanied Satine to the meeting room, where the blue figures of the Jedi Council hovered mid-air.

“Good show, your press conference was.” Master Yoda declared.

“Thank you, Master Jedi,” the Duchess nodded politely, “how may I help you?”

“According to info from Senator Amidala,” Master Windu began, “Count Dooku has contacted you personally.”

“He will be arriving in two months.” Satine answered.

“Two months,” Master Kenobi frowned, “he is likely testing you.”

“That is what Padawan Tyra suggested.” the Duchess added.

“Tyra is one of our best spies,” Master Ti stated, “would it be possible to have her assist some of our other friends from Mandalore?”

“She does have that network of hers.” Master Fisto added.

“Network?”

“The criminal friends she’s acquired,” Master Windu frowned, “on her business trips.”

Satine tried not to smile, Tyra Satine had much explaining to do.

“Is it safe,” Master Kenobi piped up, “to risk her identity. We’re counting on Count Dooku not knowing her.”

“Good point, KenobI has.” agreed Master Yoda.

“Perhaps a visit from Senator Amidala,” Master Fisto smiled, “Mandalore is quite fond of those.”

“We are.” The Duchess grinned.

With a loud bang, the Jedi Council doors burst open and a little blue figure swaggered in.

“I’m here because this involves my padawan.”

“You’re late.” Master Windu observed.

“But I came,” Quinlan Vos gestured, “here I am.”

Satine gestured to Parna.

“Bring Tyra.”

“If we may continue, Your Grace,” Master Ti spoke up, “perhaps a visit from a Senator may not bode well with our plan, perhaps sending a Mandalorian to Coruscant would be better.”

“I would suggest the Duke of Sundari,” Tyra grinned, entering the room with flair, “he’d love to go to Coruscant.”

“He could visit for a social call,” Satine agreed, “Senator Amidala is fond of Mandalorians.”

“The Duke of Sundari?” Master Fisto questioned.

“My nephew.” the Duchess clarified.

The Jedi Masters looked at eachother.

“A Mandalorian royal might turn some heads.”

“It should,” Satine stated, “we have ties to both sides now.”

“Look out for your nephew,” Master Yoda began, “we shall.”

“Thank you, Master Jedi,” Satine nodded, “that is much appreciated.”

[theinkyisles]

haunting figures

this is for my @ts-storytime​ ‘s submission! my artist is @ravenclawicecream and it was awesome working together for this piece. word count: 15001 tags: discussion of war, slight internalized ableism, arranged marriages, familial death, awful parents, open/ambiguous ending author’s notes: im never writing anything like this again.  it was an experience im glad for !! but i never wanna do this again salkjfdal

The meeting had lasted centuries, it seemed.

In all reality, it had only been a few hours, but he felt like he could see the hairs at his temple graying.  The aching joints had been a painful companion all his life, so it seemed that being an old man at age thirty-one was simply his life now.  The books surrounding him and the crutches leaning on the side of the desk agreed.

Logan sighed and let his head drop onto the stack of his papers.  His eyes threatened to shut but it was only three o’clock in the afternoon and the number of advisors clamoring for his attention was unbelievable.  He was only the king, not God Herself.  Honestly, if he was a power-hungry noble wishing to be in the king’s good graces, he wouldn’t try and get an appointment with him.  Appointments never solved anything; any good court member knew that. 

There weren’t many good court members, as you could tell.

Lifting his head from the inked parchments, he rubbed his brow with the palm of his hand.  The court member problem was an on-going one, left over from his mother’s reign.  Her partner’s death shocked everyone and the queen scrambled to recover the pieces of what she discovered to be a shattered kingdom.  She couldn’t fix everything, and so that’s what Logan grew up learning how to do.

The king pursed his lips and leaned back in his chair.  “Fix everything” he murmured to himself. “What a useless task.”

A knock came at the door and Logan called for whoever was at the door to come in.  “Hello, your majesty,” his steward bowed. “I was told to fetch you.” Logan lifted his eyes to peer over the top of his glasses.

“Am I not the one who is supposed to request others to be fetched?” he asked. The steward’s eyes glittered with amusement as he straightened.

“We both know that that’s no fun,” Emile said, placing his arms behind his back. “Besides you’re going to like who’s come to visit.” Logan exhaled deeply.

“Well, if you are here to fetch me, let me be fetched.” Logan pressed both his hands to the desk and slowly raised.  His knees creaked in protest, but he kept going until he was upright.  Grabbing the crutches, he swiftly made his way to his steward.  Together, they walked the ornate halls until they reached the throne room, where the courtier opened the door and Logan marched inside.

“Your majesty!” a voice boomed.  A man clad in black and green stood in the middle of the room, his hand resting on his decorative scabbard. “How is that every time I visit, you seem to become more and more the old man you are inside?”  The servants around the room tensed, but Logan just grinned.

“Remus, how is it every time you visit, you can never find a better joke to greet me with?” Logan countered.  Remus threw his head back, a loud laugh filling the room.  Servants around the room winced at the loud display, but Logan merely smiled.

“Never change, my friend.” Remus smiled, his eyes crinkling.  Logan’s heart grew fond at the sight. 

“Well, let me sit, and then we may discuss why you are here.”

“What, a prince can’t come to visit his old friend?” Logan scoffed as he sat down in the throne, removing the crutches from his arms.

“Not when said prince has been shifting his weight from foot to foot like a nervous wreck since I stepped foot into here.” The anxious look in his eyes grew more apparent, but Remus’ smile never dropped.  His hand began shaking back and forth at his side.

“I wanted to wait for a bit longer before bringing it up.”

“Nonsense.  This is the world we live in, your highness. We’d be fools to forget our responsibilities for a moment.” Remus nodded.

“There has been…a complication in the plan we drafted last summer.” Logan straightened in his seat.

“The one for the fields of the volcanoes in your kingdom?”

“Exactly, my dear friend.”

“What complication could come from that? It was a routine signing, everyone agreed to it and- “

 “-and there shouldn’t be another meeting for several more years?” Remus finished. “Yes, but the kingdom of Xious has found that the terms of the contract that has been in place for a millennia before the current monarch is not suitable and wishes to make some changes.”

“What changes could they possibly want? They get forty percent of the crops and pay an incredibly low rent, even after adjusting for inflation!”

“Your anger matches that of my own,” Remus agrees and steps closer, “but they are willing to go to war over it, and, as interesting as I find that, it turns out that death and destruction is not good for kingdoms, so we need to find a solution.”

“War?” Logan exclaimed uncharacteristically. “Over a treaty about wheat?”

“It would definitely be quite the bloodbath.  Your army is no match for Xious’.”

“War is quite a rash move, especially if his country is suffering famine.” Remus shrugged his shoulders.

“I don’t pretend to know what goes through the child’s mind.  My brother believes he’s scared and he sees that war is the only way to protect his country’s dignity. I say that he has been pushing off help from his advisors in some vain attempt to prove himself.”

“Have you done due diligence? There is no reason for the Xiousians to be acting in this manner.” Logan said, leaning his chin into his hand. Roman scoffed, crossing his arms.

“My father would not approve that, not with how the king is acting.”

“Remus, please, your father has little influence in the court anymore, especially in his old age.” Roman gave the Cygnan king a look.

“Please, Logan, you’ve met my father.” Logan rolled his eyes. “You act as if you didn’t know that.”

“Forgive me for still finding it ridiculous.”

“You are forgiven,” Remus jested.  Logan huffed a laugh and let his head drop into his hands.

Without saying anything, Logan picked up his crutches, slipping his arms in. He stood up and Remus straightened on instinct.  Logan made his way down the steps and walked over to the doors leading out of the throne room.  He looked behind him to where Remus was staring at him quizzically in the middle of the room.

“Well, what on Earth are you waiting for?” Logan laughed and kept moving towards the doors.  Remus chuckled and hurried after his friends.  The guards at the doors moved to follow them, but Logan shook his head. “Leave me with my friend.  I certainly won’t die between here and my chambers.”

“But sire-”one of the guards started.

“I am well aware of the protocol, my parent was the one who wrote it,” Logan snapped back. “I will be fine.”  Logan saw the guard hesitate for a moment and took his change to keep walking down the hallways.

“You are so rude to them,” Remus mused.

“I’m the king and I can take care of myself.  They know to respect me at this point, I’ve more than proven myself.”

“I wonder how many times you could be assassinated between now and then,” Remus thought out loud after a moment.  The same guard stiffened and Remus smiled widely in his direction. Logan barely withheld a snort and Remus turned the smile onto the king.

“Are you going to try and find out?” Logan asked rhetorically, beginning to make his way down the hall.

“You mean to tell me that you haven’t taken every chance to find out the exact about of time it would take for any number of assassinations to take place in this exact hallway? That’s so very unlike you,” Remus laughed as Logan smacked his shin with the crutch. “Watch it, Logey, lest I report back to my father that I was assaulted by the king of Cygnas.”

“Oh, shut it,” Logan rolled his eyes.

“Hm,” Remus preened, “I don’t think I will.”

“You and your brother will be the death of me, I swear,” Logan muttered.

“Speaking of my brother…” Remus trailed off.  Logan wrinkled his nose at the sound of the prince Roman. “He wasn’t able to accompany me, but we might be returning in a few weeks’ time in case of war, especially since he is the new crown prince.” Logan’s embarrassment shifted into shock.

“What? I thought that-“

“Father has also decided which son will take the throne.”  Remus stopped in the middle of the hallway.  Logan followed suit.

“Why I haven’t I heard about this sooner? Has he declared this officially?” Logan asked incredulously.  Remus shook his head.

“The position is brand new.  I heard about it myself while in transit coming here.  We both knew that this was coming, Logan.”  Remus gave the other king a look and Logan turned away to stare at the ground.

“Yes, but-” Logan cut himself off, frustrated.  He turned back to Remus. “Send my congratulations to your brother.  He will be a fine king.

“I hope you know that resenting me is an acceptable course of action.” Remus said knowingly.

“I just-”

“You wanted me to be king.  I know.”  Remus stepped closer to Logan, resting a hand against Logan’s cheek. “I’m sorry I disappointed you.”

“What kind of talk is that?”  Roman looked away, allowing himself to shove his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “Remus.”

“Logan,” Remus mocked slightly. “Just yell at me already, won’t you?”

Logan scowled. “Have you no faith in me? Good heavens.” Logan slipped his arms out of his crutches and leaned them against the wall.  He pressed up close to Remus and hugged him, making his two inches over Remus known.  He cupped the back of his friend’s head, pressing it against his shoulder.  Remus slumped forward. “You will be a fine king.  Do I wish your father had given Remus more of a chance? Yes, but that does not mean you are anywhere near unqualified for the position.”

“You’re just saying that.” Logan pulled back to look Remus in the eyes.

“Have I ever lied to you?” They stared at each other a moment.  Remus searched for something in Logan’s face, but whatever dishonesty he was looking for, he couldn’t find.  The air was thick with hidden messages passed between the two members of royalty.  Finally, Remus let his head fall against his friend’s shoulder and wrapped his arms around Logan’s torso.

“Thank you,” he murmured, voice muffled by the fabric of Logan’s jacket.

“You know it’s serious when you start thanking me for things.” Remus snorted.

They stood there for a few more minutes before pulling away.  Logan pressed a kiss to his lover’s forehead and Remus leaned into it.

“You know me too well, fiend.” Logan smiled softly as he picked his crutches back up from against the wall.

“You say that as if it’s a bad thing.”

    -

  Weeks had passed since Remus left Cygnas to return to his own kingdom.  Despite promises from both twins and the king of Ticevas, the pair of princes were still in transit.  Logan was antsy and worried.  The threat of war from the Xious kingdom was getting more and more real, with reports of soldiers being seen at the border, and if Remus had to set off to take care of the admittedly powerful army, Logan wouldn’t see him for several months, if not years.  He needed to sort this out between Xious and Ticevas, even if it was for purely selfish reasons.

Selfish can be described as practical.  That was his story and he was sticking to it.

In their own private letters, passed through business letters addressed to Roman who handed them to his twin, Remus reassured his lover that his brother would be there soon. Yet, Logan’s anxieties still were not soothed.

My bleeding heart,

What do you think of the new introduction? Roman keeps suggesting these ridiculously sappy names for me to call you, but this was the only one I liked, even if I had to modify it a bit. Tell me if you enjoy it.

The Xiousian king visited this past week to try and negotiate with Roman about the contract.  They didn’t really get anywhere, which normally wouldn’t bother my brother, but I had to try even less to piss him off at dinner.  He stormed out and everything.  Quite the dramatic one he is, I have no idea what you see in him.

Speaking of seeing, he plams to be in Cygnas within the next fortnight.  I know you’ve been worried about the war with Xious, but Father is slowly becoming more lenient in his old age.  With our treaty with you and Limora, I think he’s seeing that handing over the food and money this once won’t be an issue (which is what I’ve been telling him from the beginning, but of course, he only listens when Roman says something).

Enough of business.  I miss you, quill.  Kill a flower for me and stare out the window like I’m your husband gone to war.

Yours,

Remus

Logan smiled as he thumbed over the indents in the paper, the spritz of the cologne Remus wore wafting up from the page.  It was a shorter letter than usual, much shorter, but any word was better than none at all, in Logan’s opinion.

It was barely dawn when the letter had been given to him, the poor messenger looking dead on his feet.  It had been difficult to conceal his excitement and relief, but he knew that getting a letter from what everyone thought to be Roman was no cause to be filled with such joy.  Only Roman and the two of them knew of Logan and Remus’ relationship, though he had no doubt that their father knew as well, and turned a blind eye.  As the general of the army and now officially second-in-command to Crown Prince Roman, any upstanding royal or noble family knew how valuable having that connection would be.

Unfortunately, it meant Logan and Remus would never marry.  With the current treaty in place, there was no need to strengthen it with a marriage and Remus’ father, and Roman, after the king died, would need Remus elsewhere for political maneuvers.    

Back in his early days as crown prince, Logan had foolishly hoped that marrying Remus would be an option. Roman was an obvious shoe-in to be announced king even then, (no matter if Logan secretly hoped that his lover would be awarded the honor) and Logan continuously badgered his mother about the potential ways they could fortify the alliance with Ticevas.  The king was sure that his mother knew of his relationship with the prince and both resented her and was grateful for her saying nothing of the matter.  They might have secured a betrothal while Remus’ father was younger and more easily persuaded, but Logan was unsure of his and Remus’ ability to maintain both a burgeoning personal relationship and permanent political relationship in their youth.

 And yet, there was almost nothing Logan wanted more than to fall asleep each night with Remus in his arms.

Logan exhaled and carefully folded the letter back up.  He slid it under the false bottom in one of his desk drawers, relishing in the smell of Remus’ cologne that rose from the letters before shutting it firmly.  Today was too busy for him to be distracted, even if Remus was a wonderful distraction indeed.

He shifted his attention to the documents in front of him and wrinkled his nose.  Taxes were important to his kingdom’s economy, but even he found them dreadfully boring.  The advisors always insisted that they needed to raise taxes on the lower class almost exponentially in order to pay for better cities, but Logan kept them on a tight leash.  The last thing he wanted to do was rob the majority of his kingdom blind.  Not to mention the fact that the taxes were still outrageously high and no one deigned to put the money to good use.  He found it absolutely disgusting how all the nobles in his court refused to pay their own taxes, yet insisted that those who were living paycheck to paycheck deserved to be burgled by their own government.

He had opinions on the matter, not that he was ever that passionate in court.  That would lead to a scandal that he did not want nor need to deal with.  He was fixing things slowly but surely. 

A knock came at the door and Logan called out to permit them entry.  He straightened his posture as his personal steward stepped into the room.  Emile bowed and Logan nodded his head in return, remaining sitting at his desk.

“Good morning, Emile.  I trust you have a reason to be interrupting me at five o’clock in the morning?” Emile smiled at his boss, not put off by the seemingly dismissive greeting.

“Do you how do, Your Majesty?” Emile said instead of answering, a cheeky grin on his face.  Logan’s face dropped into a confused scowl.

“Emile, that phrase is utterly nonsensical, I have no idea why you use it so often,” the king said, looking back down at his papers. Emile laughed.

“It’s simply a fun turn of phrase, Your Majesty, nothing nonsensical about it.” Logan opened his mouth to retort but Emile kept going. “Besides, I have some important information for you.”

“Really? Do share, Emile.” Logan motioned for the steward to continue, still not looking up from his papers.  He heard Emile shift nervously.

“The Xiousian king is here and has requested an audience.” Logan’s head shot up, the quill dropping with a clatter to the desk. 

“The Xiousian king? When did he arrive?” Logan demanded, pressing his weight to the desk and rising from his seat.  Emile grabbed the crutches by the door and swiftly walked over, setting them against the desk for Logan to use if he so wished.

“He arrived mere moments ago, it appears that they rode through the night to get here.”

“Good heavens,” Logan muttered, paling considerably.  It was a quiet for a moment as Logan stared down at the ground, trying to decide what to do. “Alright, you go speak with the king while I ready myself.  Tell him I will be there shortly.” Emile stared at Logan for a few moments, not moving to comply to Logan’s orders.

“Logan,” Emile started, his voice soft, “you don’t have to go and greet him.  I can do so myself and you can take your time.” Logan kept his head down, avoiding making contact with the steward.  “Valerie wouldn’t want you to force yourself to-”

“Don’t speak her name,” Logan interrupted, his voice firm.  “As far as I am aware, I do not know Virgil and Virgil does not know me.  There is no reason for me to hide from him.” Emile opened his mouth to speak, but Logan shook his head. “I’m not having this argument today.”  Emile hesitated before nodding and moving to leave the room.

“I’ll inform His Majesty that you will be arriving shortly,” Emile said softly, before shutting the door behind him.  Logan sighed as the final click was heard, raising one hand to massage at his constricting chest. 

To the world, he was Logan, King of Cygnas, the only child of Monarch Ranal and Queen Leona. 

Valerie couldn’t be a factor in his decisions anymore.

-

Logan threw the doors of the throne room open as he strode in, his ornamental cloak fluttering behind him.  He took advantage of the low pain that day to try and be as dramatic as possible (Roman’s points about theatrics and intimidation had some merit), but he saw Emile standing by the throne, crutches in hand.  Something in him shriveled at the idea that not even his steward thought he could make it through this meeting without buckling beneath the pressure and aching, but he cast it aside.  This was not the time for pride.

He regretted the powerful move when he saw the tiny boy in the middle of the room.  He knew that the Xiousian king was young, having kept track of any news coming from the Xiousian front, but the boy looked so small.  Logan took one look at the kid’s trembling shoulders and stopped in his tracks. No sudden movements, he decided.

“King Virgil,” Logan greeted. “Your presence in my court is highly unexpected, especially at this hour in the morning.”  The boy attempted to straighten up, but the crown on his head tilted to the side. It was almost comical.

“King Logan,” the other king bowed his head. “I have travelled a long time to be here.”      

“And yet that does not answer the real question,” Logan threw back.  He started walking towards the boy, taking note of how the other king winced as Logan drew nearer.  The older king passed by the boy, noting how he didn’t relax until he reached the throne. Logan tucked his cloak beneath him as he sat down. “Why are you here?”

“Well, you must know about how your ally Ticevas and how they have been refusing aide to my hungry people.” Virgil took a few short, yet decisive steps closer to the throne.  Logan had to give it to him; he might be scared, but he was handling it well. Logan cocked his head to the side.

“My apologies, Your Majesty, but that is not the information I was given by the Crown Prince of Ticevas.” The boy glowered and he furrowed his brow.

“I do not know what information the Crown Prince has given you, but I can assure you that if it is anything close to what I believe Prince-General Remus has said to his superiors, it is unequivocally false.”  Logan quirked an eyebrow, but the rest of his facial expression remained peacefully blank.

“You cannot blame me for trusting what has been told to me by the Crown Prince and Prince-General of Ticevas themselves,” Logan lifted his hands from the arms of his throne, folding them into his lap. “I do not intend on changing my opinion on what is true and what is false on unsupported hearsay and beliefs.” Virgil scoffed and he crossed his arms, the movement made slightly difficult by the heavy furs he had draped around his shoulders.

“Do you believe everything the Ticevans tell you?” the boy asked, no hesitance in his voice. “They are known for their dramatics and story-telling, Your Majesty, not every word that comes from their mouths is sure to be true.”  Logan blinked in shock a few times, caught slightly off-guard.  No one had dared question his trust in the Ticevan twins before.

He’d have to do better.

“I’m not sure the Ticevan royal family would entirely appreciate you implying that they are liars, Your Majesty,” Logan said as-matter-of-factly. Virgil scowled, taking impulsive steps towards the throne.  The soldiers flanking the throne dropped into a defensive stance, holding out their spears.  The young king froze and the guards that were with him when Logan entered pulled their swords from their scabbards. “Remigius,” Logan scolded, turning towards his head guard at his right. “Please, show some decorum.” He turned back to Virgil. “My apologies, my liege, as king I am sure you aware of the heightened security.” 

The silver-haired captain-of-the-guard let out a soft scoff as he resumed his stationary position.  Logan shot the man a stern glance but Remy refused to turn towards him.  “Yes, I am aware,” Virgil said warily, and Logan saw him make a soft hand motion out of the corner of his eye.  The guards stood down, their swords back in their scabbard.  One guard, his braids pulled back into a tight bun, left his hand on the hilt. “If I have to ask,” Virgil said snidely, “may I approach, Your Majesty?” Logan gave him a deadpan look but the thirteen-year-old held his ground.

Logan broke first, surprisingly, sighing and waving his hand in a motion for Virgil to step forward. “You may approach, King Virgil.” Virgil didn’t move, instead resting his weight on his heels, a smug smirk on his face.   A ‘well, now that I have permission, I don’t want to do it’ move.  Incredibly immature, Logan noted, but then again, no matter what status Virgil might have, a teenager is still a teenager. “Very funny,” Logan said wryly. 

“Why, King Logan, I have no idea what you mean!” Virgil said in a high-pitched innocent voice.  Logan held in a chuckle.  A few beats passed as Logan stared down at the young boy.

“Why are you here, King Virgil?” Logan said, slightly bored. “You come in with bravado and accusations and you still have not answered my very first question.”  Virgil stuck his nose up.

“We are here to offer a chance of your kingdom surviving the crossfire.” Logan furrowed his brow and sat up slightly in his throne.

“What crossfire.”

“Ticevas has disrespected our sovereignty and threatened us tenfold over.  Xious will not stand for it.”

“And your solution is to kill everything on sight?” Virgil scoffed.

“You have no tact, Your Majesty.” Logan raised an eyebrow and Virgil turned red. “Apologies, that-that was uncalled for.” Logan hummed, amused.

“Join me for dinner,” he said suddenly and he placed his hands against the arms of the throne. “You and your entourage are welcome to stay in the castle for the next week and we can discuss matters in a more private setting.” Confusion flashed across Virgil’s face and he looked towards the guard to his left, a question of whether or not he should accept floating between them.

“I accept your invitation,” Virgil responded a moment later, his eyes still locked with that of his guard. He turned back towards Logan with a polite, sardonic smile. “It was an honor to meet you, King Logan of Cygnas.” Logan raised his eyebrows but did not smile back.

“And it was certainly interesting to meet you, King Virgil of Xious.” Logan pushed himself off the throne, sliding his right arm into the crutch someone in his periphery offered him.  He stepped down the stairs until he was face to face with the Xiousian king.

Virgil was a lot shorter so up close.

Logan offered his hand and Virgil stared at it a moment.  The room held its breath as the Xiousian processed the gesture.  Hesitantly, Virgil uncrossed his arms and gripped Logan’s admittedly much larger hand.  Logan shook once, a firm yet gentle motion, before releasing and walking right past the young king towards the door of the throne room.

At the very least, he had an excuse to write Remus.

-

Remus,

I’m afraid I write to you not with personal anecdotes but with political news.

 T’is dreadful, I’m aware.

The young boy king of Xious dropped by this evening, though it will be a few days past by the time this letter reaches you.  He is small, but skilled with his language.  His father very obviously groomed this boy for the throne at a young age.  He stutters, though.  It reminds me slightly of myself at his age.

I have invited him to stay at the palace for a few days, provided he have dinner with me.  I will write you after the dinner; hopefully I will have more information for you then.  Your brother told me that he threatened war over the treaty, but he seemed quite offended at this accusation, lending me to believe that there has been a miscommunication.  You were there for this exchange? I need both sides here.

Just so you are aware, and please relay this to Roman but do not tell your father, he has given me an offer to avoid crossfires of war.  I don’t pretend to understand why he would offer to have me fight alongside his kingdom or die and then turn around and be offended at me saying that he is planning war.  I fear there are other factors at play, not simply a confused child at the reins of a job that no individual can truly succeed at. 

I hope you are well, my love. 

Sincerely,

His Majesty, King Logan

-

       Preparing for the dinner on such late notice made everyone on the castle on edge.  Logan rarely had visitors as it was and as such, unused guest wings weren’t cleaned with the frequency that was kept throughout the more populated sections of the castle.  If worries of war breaking out over a scared teenager weren’t plaguing Logan with every waking moment, he might’ve taken a moment to thank each staff member that passed him by.

He made a note to up their pay for the month.

“You know I’m not one to question your decisions,” Remigius, Logan’s head guard, said as the king and him walked down the hallway, “but enemy Xious here? In your castle?”

“If I turn them away, I will not gain any information that could actually be of use to our allies.  The Ticevan princes would not lie to me and so I am eager to understand exactly why I’m being told two different stories.” Remigius scowled.

“You’re ignoring all the potential security concerns, babes, we don’t have the manpower to guard all the guestrooms, even if they only have ten in the security detail.”

“It’s thirteen,” the king said offhandedly as they turned a corner. “The person dressed in the steward colors had a knife hidden up their sleeve.  Some type of holster, I presume.” Remigius paused, gaping at Logan – who kept moving down the hall at a rapid pace – before jogging slightly to catch up.

“I don’t wanna even ask how you caught that.” Logan smiled wryly.

“I’m doing everyone’s job at once,” Logan began, his voice vaguely humorous as if he were starting the beginning of joke. “I have to pretend to do yours at one point.” Remigius scoffed and Logan knew he would cross his arms if he wasn’t holding onto his spear. They made their way down the rest of the hall, their voices in a hushed chatter and Remy complained about what an awkward position Logan put him in and Logan shooting back that this is exactly what he hired Remy for.  When they arrived at the door, Logan sighed heavily.  “This isn’t something I want to be doing, Remigius,” Logan said softly. “Preventing a war from happening is just as taxing as fighting the war itself.”

“I agree,” Remy said, “but you have to remember our limits.”  Logan sighed again, before pushing open the door into the small conference room. 

Originally, Logan had a council of advisors and early on in the last day’s of his mother’s reign and the beginning stages of his own, he met with them frequently.  Every book on ruling and being fair that Logan could get his hands on emphasized the importance on seeking others’ outlooks on each decision a ruler made for their country and when he was nineteen and fresh from his mother’s funeral, Logan dove straight into that.  Looking back on it, it was a poor decision.

For many reasons.

Years later, Logan was still stuck weeding out nobleman who gained their positions through willful missights by both his parents or a generous donation of money towards the upkeep of the castle.  The budget for the upkeep of the castle was woefully tight and it had always been that way, so he was sure that his parents squirreled away the money somewhere or maybe wasted it away. 

Presently, Logan still stuck by the idea that a stable king had stable council, but it was increasingly difficult to find said steady council when all the councilors seemed keen on starting wars at every given opportunity.  The only nobles or advisors or councilors Logan allowed in his presence anymore were handpicked himself, regardless of status.

Or attitude for that matter.

Dominic Dormis, known colloquially as “The Critic” and called Dice by everyone who was just out of enough common sense to have a conversation with him, sat in the middle of a long wooden meeting table, papers spread artfully around him.  He was the brother to Remigius, though ironically, it was Remigius who insisted that Logan not hire Dominic.  Logan ignored his head guard’s advice and it was the best decision he had ever made.

“Tell me, Dice,” Logan started, walking over to look over the advisor’s shoulder at the papers sitting in front of him, “how urgently do I need to try and fix this all?” Dice laughed humorlessly as he threw his pen down and leaned back in the chair.

“You’ve made a right mess of this, darling!” Dice exclaimed, tilting his head back to look Logan in the eye. “No matter how often they run the numbers, nothing looks favorable.” Logan sighed deeply, massaging the bridge of his nose.

“Are we really that low on manpower?” Logan asked, his voice bordering on desperate, and screwed his eyes shut. Dice tutted his tongue, motioning towards the papers.

“I haven’t been here all morning trying to spread our defenses across the Xiousian border for nothing, darling,” Dice snarked.  Logan opened his eyes slightly to glare at him.

“We’re aiming for peace, Dice,” Logan snapped, “not to antagonize the same kingdom threatening war by placing our entire military on the border.” Dice just shrugging, looking down at the papers.

“It was the only way I felt we had a chance,” Dice said defensively.

Oh, damn it all,” Logan swore under his breath. “What are your thoughts on Ticevas lying?” Dice just scoffed.

“Please, the boy had a point.  We Ticevans have a tendency for the dramatics.”  Logan scrunched his nose.

“So am I to march up to the Crown Prince and his general brother and tell them to their face that they’re lying? Were they even at that meeting?” Dice shrugged, picking up his quill to dip it into ink and scribble a note into the blank space of one of the pages. “Why is it that when I am listing all the things going wrong, you jump right in, but when I try to figure out a solution, you just sit there nodding?”

“You hired me for a reason,” Dice replied in a singsong voice. “I tell you what you need to hear, Logan, not what you want to hear.”  Logan crossed his arms, his face pinched.

“What do we do then?” Dice sighed and moved his head back down, searching through the sheets of paper.

“You either side with Xious or you get them to back down,” Dice says, reciting the words from a piece of paper held close to his face.  Logan narrowed his eyes and swiped the paper from Dice’s hands, much to his advisor’s indignance.

“Dice, this just says ‘you’re screwed’.  That’s not entirely professional.  I do have to present these papers to the princes of Ticevas.” Dice scoffed, pushing his chair back and kicking his feet up on top of the desk. “And now your feet are on the table.”

“You’re very good at observations,” Dice said wryly. “Look, you have that dinner with the Xiousian king.  Make it count.  Make yourself likable.” Logan moved to open his mouth but Dice cut him off. “Diplomacy and facts might work with more stable-minded individuals, but this is a kid, Your Majesty.  You need to charm him.” Logan tossed the papers back on the table.

“Fantastic.”

“It’s not all bad, Your Majesty.  Emile said that he’s your-”

“No.”

“What?” Dice asked innocently.  He blinked up at Logan. “It’s a good strategy, my lord, it will work, especially on a boy his age.”

“I will not be using my dead sister’s name in war talks, Dice.” The advisor scrunched up his nose.

“Well, yes, when you put it that way, it doesn’t sound all that wonderful.” Logan groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose.  Dice shuffled through his papers and Logan could hear him scribbling down notes and calculations.  “A right mess you’ve made of this, Logan.”

“Don’t pin this on me,” the king hissed. Dice snorted. A knock came at the door. “Enter!”

“Well, hello there, Dice! It’s been a while,” Emile said as he entered the room, shutting the door behind him.  Logan looked up to see Dice waving slightly, leaning forward against the table onto his elbows.

“Hello, dear brother-in-law,” Dice said amusingly. “It’s a shame you are so busy these days, we’ve hardly had a chance to speak one-on-one.” Emile’s eyes crinkled and he laughed.

“That’s what family dinners on Sundays are for, Dice, it’s not my fault you never show up.”

-

“Your Majesty,” Logan greeted coolly, rising up from his seat in order to bow slightly.  His knuckles were braced against the edge of the table, allowing his body weight to distribute. “How kind of you to join me this evening.” 

Virgil stood in the doorway, classic Xiousian furs piled up around his shoulders and wrapped around his head.  His eyes swept across the room, as if admiring each piece of furniture and morsel of food.  His face was shadowed by a thin wrap covering the tops of his head and draped across and around his neck, but Logan could still the stringy black hair that reminded Logan of himself when he was a teenager. The way Virgil held himself reminded Logan even of his parent, which was not necessarily a reminder that he was looking for. If he were superstitious, it would feel like a bad omen.

Logan felt the weight of what this dinner meant settling across his shoulders like a physical presence.  Ever since the meeting with Dice, several other nobleman came up to him, trying to play up the might of Cygnan army.  They acted incredibly patriotic but Dice’s intel (and also that of his brother, Remigius) showed him what their true intentions were.  Deals with investors and black markets across both Cygnas, Ticevas, and Limora could make them rich if Logan decided to follow through with the war. 

None of them seemed to take into consideration quite exactly war would mean for absolutely everyone else.  Sometimes it felt like everyone thought him as naïve as a dog running after a phantom stick.  He was the King of Cygnas, the kingdom associated with all things knowledge.  He had some common sense.

“Come sit,” he invited, motioning to the seat beside him. “My kitchen staff has slaved over this food all day and it would be a shame to let it all go to waste.” Logan busied himself with tucking his coattails beneath him and shuffling his chair closer to the table, but he kept track of the careful steps Virgil took towards the table.  He eyed the guards at the door. 

Virgil’s personal guard followed his charge to the chair, inspecting it before allowing the boy king to take a seat.  Gently, the boy unwrapped the fur shawl from around his shoulders and the guard took it from him, draping it against the high back of the chair.  “It is custom to wear wraps that cover our heads,” Virgil says, his voice tiny in the giant room.  “I hope this does not offend you.” Logan waved his hand in dismissal.

“I hope you are not offended that I am not wearing one myself,” Logan says, motioning for a servant to pour them drinks. “In Cygnas, it’s typical to wear less clothing in the presence of guests, though,” Logan gestured at himself wryly, “the same does not usually apply to the royal household.” Virgil gave a small, but genuine smile.

“My father was a…lover of our culture,” Virgil responded, “as am I.”  He paused for a moment to lift up his wine glass to his guard, who took a small sip.  Whatever the guard was looking for, he didn’t find and he handed the cup back to the teen. “However, I understand that you have your own customs.” Logan nodded, beginning to pick up his cutlery to start eating.

“In Ticevas,” Logan started, “it is customary to bow in a particular fashion before approaching the monarch.”  He gave Virgil a humorous look.  “Of course, when my mother passed, may her soul rest among the stars, I had many things to worry about and I stormed into a meeting with the King before bowing.”  He took a sip of his wine.  “I don’t believe the Crown Prince or his brother have ever let me live that one down.”  Virgil gave him a curious glance.

“Are you close with the Crown Prince and the Prince-General?” he asked innocently.  Logan held back a deadpan look.

“As close as life-long allies can be,” Logan said, a hint of a smile creeping into his voice. “Let’s eat, shall we?”

Logan heard a small, exasperated huff as he looked down to his meal and resisted the urge to chuckle.  The boy was smart, but he had little tact. 

He was doing better than Logan would have done at this age, regardless.

The clinking of ornate cutlery against fine china filled the room as the two began to eat.  Logan could see the young boy struggle to use the wares that were just a tad too big for his hands and wondered how such a boy could threaten war but not know how to handle utensils.

Maybe he simply used swords to eat. 

Logan banished the thought from his mind.  The past was the past, as his mother would say every time the Xiousian king would extend an invitation to his castle.  

Damned Xious.

“How are you finding the meal, Your Majesty?” Logan asked coolly. He didn’t look up from his plate, but he heard Virgil fumbling with the fork and knife.  He ought to stop playing mind games with children. 

“It is suitable,” Virgil replied, his words slightly muffled by what seemed like a mouth full of food.  Logan looked up to see Virgil swallow harshly and washing down the ball of food with a gulp of wine.  “I appreciate your hospitality, King Logan.”  Logan tilted his head to the side.

“I accept your thanks.”  Logan cut a piece of meat, and held it up to his lips. “Your father was a frequent guest at this castle and I hope you will be as well, as you grow into your role as monarch of Xious.”  Virgil nodded nervously, fiddling with his silverware instead of responding. “Speaking of which,” Logan continued, “my condolences to you and your family.  Losing family is something I am woefully familiar with.”  Virgil nodded again; his eyes were downcast.

“May his soul rest among the stars,” the young king murmured. Virgil straightened his back, having slouched slightly, “He was good father to me.  He taught me well.”  He paused for a moment, looking down at his plate. “Though, there is no other family to console.  I am his only heir and my mother died young.” Virgil looked at him inquisitively. “You would have known her, no?” Logan resisted the urge to try and swallow down the lump that had grown in his throat.  He hadn’t thought about Virgil’s mother in a long time.  It was a shock to try and remember it all.  Realizing he hadn’t responded, Logan cleared his throat, busying his hands with cutting a slice of the meat on his plate.

“Yes, I was good friends with your mother,” Logan said, his voice on the edge of trembling. “I simply…forget she is not here with us, from time to time.”  Virgil hummed in response. “Your father was a strong king,” Logan said, instead of continuing down the previous path of conversation, “Do you plan to follow in his footsteps?” the Cygnan inquired after a moment. “He was quite focused on the military, but this is a time of peace, as you must know.”  Virgil froze slightly and Logan resisted the urge to smile.  Finally, he’d pushed a button.  Virgil began to look up towards his guard, presumably for guidance, but he aborted the movement, tightening his grip on his wine cup that he’d reached out for as Logan was asking his question.

“It is quite a…” Virgil paused, quirking his lips as he brought the wine cup up to his mouth, “bold statement to claim peace, considering what your allies in Ticevas have accused of me.” His hands were shaking.  Logan bowed his head in agreement.

“Though, if what you say is true, there is no reason to fear, is there?” Logan tilted his head. “After all, if there is war to be had between you Ticevas, there is little reason for you to be here, at the castle of a Ticevan ally.”  Virgil gulped down his wine nervously and the guard behind him gripped his spear threateningly.

“Peace is a lot harder to defend than a home front, Your Majesty,” Virgil said at last, setting down his glass with a clumsy hand. “It is best to be prepared for the worst, as my father always said.”  Logan raised his eyebrows and Virgil’s shoulders seem to shrink slightly.

“We simply have different tactics then,” Logan shrugged artfully, careful not to become too casual.  The Xiousian guard glared. Virgil shifted slightly in his seat, opening and closing his mouth a few times.

“Uh-” Virgil went red at the noise, busying himself with cutting another piece of meat. “What-What tactics do you employ, then?” Logan looked up from his plate, smiling slightly.

“Cygnans pride ourselves on our practicality.  The budgeting reflects that,” Logan explained, taking a sip from his glass. “We have dedicated numbers for each individual aspect of the government, numbers that are reviewed daily by our famed scholars.” Virgil leaned in closer, his eyes wide. “And what of you? You said that your father always liked to be prepared.”  Virgil blinked a couple times before shrinking back into his seat.

“Well, my father, as you said, was a very strong man and he-he wanted that reflected in his kingdom, I suppose.”  Logan raised an eyebrow.

“You suppose?” Virgil fumbled to correct himself.

“No- not that I suppose, I know that is what he wanted.  He taught me that himself,” Virgil rushed out.  “He always said to me that being overcautious meant two things. One,” Virgil lifted up his index finger; Logan marveled at how small the child’s hands were, “you are prepared for what comes, or option number two,” Virgil lifted up a second finger, “you are pleasantly surprised.”  Taken slightly by surprise, Logan huffed out a small laugh.  Virgil beamed, his smile almost glowing.

It was times like these that Logan had to fight himself to see a burgeoning king, instead of an unsteady young boy.  Logan was lucky he had his mother when his parent died when he was but being the tender age of twelve years old was not a fact that prepared himself for the death of someone so influential.  If not for the queen, he would have been forced to take on the harrowing task of being responsible for millions of people’s lives, something that haunts him in his dreams even at his older age.

“You are quite the comedic guest,” Logan said amusingly. “It’s difficult to catch me by surprise.” Virgil went shy, ducking his head.

“I must give credit to my father then, may his soul rest among the stars,” Virgil blushed. “It was he who said it.”  Logan tutted good-naturedly.

“But it was not your father who made me laugh, was it?”  A glimmer danced in Virgil’s eyes and a fierce protectiveness came over Logan.

“No, I suppose it was not.”

-

They moved to Logan’s official office, not the throne room nor the desk in his room where Logan kept most of his paperwork.  He hated the ornate decoration of the space, the gold-plated wood, and curtains of the that never ran out of dust no matter how often you beat them.  He hated the paintings of the wall, memories of his mother and his parent and his sister.  They were all gone, were they not? What was the point on dwelling on it?

Roman called it unhealthy.  Remus called it remembering the dead how they deserved to be remembered.  Logan called it practicality.

Virgil and his guard followed him inside.  Reluctantly, Logan motioned for his head of security to follow him into the room. Before he shut the door, he motioned for Remigius to come close. “You do not touch a hair on that boy’s head,” Logan threatened, his voice calm and soft despite his words.  “I will not be the one who starts this war.”  Remy gave him an odd look.

“And if he attacks?” Logan sighed, eyeing Janus who had his hand on his charge’s shoulder.  They seemed to be speaking words, but Logan could hear nothing from where he is. 

“If the boy attacks, you go for his guard.” Logan stared Remigius right in the eye. “I meant what I said.” Logan bowed his head, bracing his hands against his waist. “Send word to Dice that this meeting is not to be interrupted under penalty of treason. No one but you, me, and King Virgil and his guard will know what transpires here tonight.” Remy nodded, saluting, before whistling over another soldier to relay the message.  Logan straightened his shoulders, holding his hands behind his back, and turned to face Virgil and Janus.

“Feel free to sit down, we might be here a while.”

-

The room was silent.  You could drop a pin and the sound would ring out through the hall.

“I’m not sure I quite understand,” Logan said quietly, his left hand flat against the desk.  Virgil shifted nervously in his seat, no longer hiding his glances to his guard on his right. 

“I wasn’t at that meeting with the diplomats,” Virgil repeated, before shutting his eyes tightly. “Didn’t- wouldn’t your contacts that were at the meeting have told you this?” Logan looked down at the papers scattered artfully across his public desk.  His memory flashed to the stack of letters hidden beneath a false bottom drawer in his room and the distant feeling of being wrapped around his lover.

“No, they had not,” Logan muttered under his breath.  He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes briefly. “This changes many things, Virgil, I hope you understand.” He jumped at the sound of a thump against the ground, looking up to find Remy in an attack position and the Xiousian guard with a deadly stare.

“That is Your Majesty to you, King Logan,” the guard gritted out.  Virgil averted his eyes from the scene, staring at the carpeted designs on the wall.  Logan blinked a few times before clearing his throat.

“But of course,” he amended. “Please accept my apologies, Your Majesty.”  Virgil nodded sheepishly and the guard nodded approvingly.  Logan motioned towards Remy. “Remigius, stand down.  It was a simple correction on my manners, one that is sorely needed.” Remy reluctantly stood down, casting a wary glance towards the guard. Virgil sighed, burying his head into his hands.

Logan looked at the clock on his desk.  It was getting late.

“How,” Virgil asked, his voice bordering on a whine, “does this change things, your so-called allies refused to give my people aid after we practically kissed their boots asking so.”  Logan shook his head, exhaling.

“No, Your Majesty, that is not what I have been told and that’s what becomes the problem.” Virgil peeked through his hands and Logan’s harsh expression softened and his shoulders dropped. “Your Majesty, I have been told by the Head General and Prince of Ticevas himself that your diplomats promised war if they did not lower the rent and heighten the amount of food Xious could take from the crops.  There was no talk of famine or aid and King Romulus does not take kindly to threats, whether they be true or false.”  Virgil sighed, sinking forward so that his elbows were against his knees.

“What would you have me do then?” Virgil asked. “Call my own advisors and agents liars?  Do you know what that kind of position that would put me in? And let’s not forget the fact that those same advisors were put there by my father and removing them would be an affront to his legacy.”  Logan gritted his teeth and clenched his hand into a fist.

“And what am I to do?” Logan asked, holding a tone of incredulity. “Write to my allies in the South and tell them that it was all a misunderstanding?” Virgil sighed deeply. “Your Majesty, I do not want war.  My people are thriving and bloodshed would stunt that, I know it goes the same way for you.” Virgil shook his head and straightened up in his seat, his face gaunt in the flickering candlelight that brightened the room.

“I would do anything to prove Xious is a force to be reckoned with,” Virgil muttered, rising to his feet. “You would do well to remember that, King Logan, or I will be forced to show it to you.” Logan glared, bracing his hands against the desk as if he were about to stand.

“Does what I just said mean nothing to you?” Logan seethed, leaning closer to Virgil. “If your people are truly facing a famine—”

“-are you doubting the word of a king-”

“-then they cannot handle an invasion!” Logan slammed his palm against the desk.  Virgil’s eyes were wide and angry and Logan’s chest heaved.

“You know nothing about my people,” Virgil seethed.  “Janus, we are to leave immediately.  His Majesty has shown us that we are not respected here.”  Virgil stood up from his chair, but Logan held out a hand, bowing his head towards the wood of his desk.

“Wait.  Please,” Logan breathed. “I don’t want this to escalate.  I lost myself.” Virgil glanced at him with disdain but did not make to move towards the door. “I take your word as truth, Your Majesty, just as I take the Ticevan princes’ words as truth.”

“Then what do you propose, King Logan?” Virgil sneered. “You cannot believe a truth and a lie at the same time.” Logan nodded, setting his hand down.

“Please take my words with a grain of salt, King Virgil,” Logan said softly, looking the young king in the eye. “Have you ever considered that, maybe, your diplomats and advisors are looking for war?” Virgil’s nostrils flared. “No, please, listen.  I am also forced to re-examine my alliance with Ticevas here, this is not just you who is put into a compromising position.”

“Your Majesty, please listen to what you’re saying,” Virgil said after a beat of silence. “You’re accusing my trusted advisors and diplomats of treason.  Of lying to the crown.  That comes at the penalty of death in my country.” Logan nodded understandingly, breathing in deeply.

“Please, stay a few more days,” Logan offered. “Think about this.  Talk with your people and I will talk with mine.  The Crown-Prince is due to arrive as soon as tomorrow and perhaps, we can clear things then.” Virgil glanced at his guard – Janus, he’d called the man – who merely stared back.  Whatever passed between them solidified Virgil’s decision and he turned back towards Logan.

“So be it.”

-

Roman and Remus arrived two days later and Logan felt like he was about to collapse.  Virgil and him had been going back and forth for days, letters arriving by the sack-full, no doubt several angry diplomats coming after Virgil for even thinking that they could potentially be treasonous to the crown. 

Logan himself was dreading such letters coming in from his own advisors, whenever he finally found a way to prune them out, but he pushed that aside.  He had to worry about one thing at a time.  His advisors could wait.

When the Royal Carriage for Ticevas finally arrived, it was like weights measuring a ton were lifted from Logan’s shoulders.  The worry and the anxiety soothed itself and it was like the answer to all his problems rested inside the gilded coach.

“Crown Prince Roman, General Remus.” Logan greeted cordially, a playful smile on his lips. “It is a pleasure to see you so soon after your previous visit.” Logan held out his hand and Remus stepped up, bowing and pressing a kiss to the ring on Logan’s finger. Roman merely smiled, bemused by his brother and best friend.

“King Logan, the pleasure is all mine,” Remus returned, nothing in his voice hiding the utter glee in his eyes. 

“My steward will take you to your quarters and then, perhaps, you could join me in my office to discuss a few things before dinner.”  Remus’ smile grew, nearly splitting his face in half. Logan’s eyes crinkled in pleasure.

“But of course, Your Majesty, your hospitality is most gracious.”  Roman accepted, not-so-subtly bumping his elbow into Remus’ stomach.  Remus scrunched his nose and moved to step on Roman’s foot with his heeled boot, but Roman skillfully avoided the maneuver, following Emile who was beckoning the twins to follow him.  Remus scoffed under his breath as he moved to follow his brother and Logan had to resist a smile.  As Remus passed by, the prince reached out his fingers, the action so subtle, no one but Logan saw it coming.  Logan reached his own hand out, under the guise of adjusting his lace cloak, to brush skin against skin.  He breathed in deeply and it was like the sun had just peeked through the clouds at the end of a horrid winter.

A few, long minutes later, Remus finally entered Logan’s room, shutting the door behind him. “So,” Remus said playfully, “what matters of business are we to discuss?”  Logan laughed and something in his chest loosened.  He unclasped the ceremonial lace around his shoulders, letting it flutter to the ground as he strode across the room and wrapped his arms around his lover’s shoulders.

“I’ve missed you, Remus,” Logan said reverently, digging his nose into Remus’ neck.  He felt Remus lean against him, wrapping his thick arms around Logan’s lithe frame.

“I’ve missed you too, quill,” Remus said, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come alone to see you.  It’s been far too long since we’ve just existed, you and I.” Logan sighed, stepping back but not letting go of Remus.

“I know,” the king said apologetically, moving to brush Remus’ bangs from his eyes. “Maybe that will change one day, but I can live with this.  At least I get to have you in arms once again.”  Remus’ ears went red, but his smile merely grew and he jutted out his chin in pride.

“I’ll go down in history as the one to make the stern Logan of Cygnas crack,” Remus teased, digging his fingers into Logan’s sides, where he knew the king was ticklish.  Immediately, Logan tensed, giggling.  “Aha! I’ve discovered your weakness.”  Logan slapped at his lover’s hands childishly, giggling even when Remus pulled his hands away.

“You menace,” Logan said softly, grabbing Remus’s face between his two hands and pulling him in for a long overdue kiss. “You will be the death of me, I swear it.”  Remus smiled and leaned back in for another kiss.

Eventually, they made their way to Logan’s bed, kicking off extraneous pieces of ceremonial garb and their shoes, determined to be as comfortable as possible without making it difficult to leave the room in a rush.  “Why do we actually have to do things,” Remus whined, shoving his face into Logan’s chest.  Logan chuckled, the sound rumbling more through his diaphragm than an actual noise.  He ran his fingers through the soft hairs at the nape of Remus’ neck.

“We’re royalty, Remus,” Logan said humorously, with the tone of someone whose had this conversation with the other prince many times. “If we don’t do things, other things don’t work.” Remus groaned.

“The other things should be able to figure it out on their own,” he grumbled. “I don’t wanna leave yet.”  Logan pursed his lips, a sorrowful expression taking over his face.

“I know,” he said wistfully, letting his head fall against the headboard. “I don’t want to leave either.” Remus gripped Logan’s waist tightly and Logan lifted his head slightly to look down at the prince. “Is something the matter?”  Remus looked up at Logan, a frenzy in his eyes.

“We should run away,” Remus whispered, careful of anyone sitting outside the bedroom doors. “You and me, we could run away and never come back and they’ll think we died a bloody death and all of our problems would be solved.” Logan smiled softly and brought up his hand to brush Remus’ white bangs from his eyes.

“It wouldn’t be a bloody death if there was no blood,” he critiqued good-naturedly.  “We’d have to find a decent substitute and leave quite a few red herrings for them to follow.  They wouldn’t just see us gone and give up.”  Remus stuck out his tongue, blowing a raspberry, and Logan just scrunched his nose.

“You’re no fun,” Remus grumbled, shoving his face into Logan’s stomach.  “Always making plans make sense and be rational.” Logan chuckled.

“You certainly thought I was fun when we dissected that deer together,” Logan said. “I was so sure my mother was going to barricade me in my room after she saw the mess we made in the dining room.” Remus scoffed and Logan huffed lightheartedly.

“Your mom just didn’t like that we ruined the wood of the table with all the blood.”

“To be fair, that table had been in the castle for over two centuries.”

“Then it was obviously due for a remodeling.  We did her a favor.”  Logan let out an uncharacteristic snort  and he could feel Remus’ smile pressed against his torso.

“Maybe so,” he said, carding his fingers through his lover’s hair. “I wonder what she would think of me now.”

“You are doing a much better job than she ever did.  Not to mention how much better you’re doing than your parent.” Logan sighed, tilting his head to the side.

“Yes, I would hope the bar would be higher than my parent, but I suppose as the next monarch, that is exactly where the kingdom’s standards are at.”

They fell quiet, the only sounds filling the room were that of the steady rise and fall of their breathing.  The sun gradually set in the sky as they spent hours wrapped up in each other, too afraid to let go as if they would be dragged apart as soon as they did.  It had been too long, Logan thought, his head bowed of Remus’ as the prince dozed against him.  He didn’t know if he could do this again.

Eventually, Logan moved Remus’ head to the pillow beside him, waking up the prince from his gentle nap. “Where do you think you’re going,” Remus grumbled, shooting out his arm to trap Logan’s hips against the bed.  Logan smiled softly, but removed the arm from his body, tucking it gently against the prince. 

“Your brother and I need to talk about what’s been going with Xious and King Virgil,” Logan said, swinging his legs slowly over the edge of his bed. “It’s gotten infinitely more complicated than I would have hoped.”

“What’s the way to fix it?” Remus asked, stretching out like a spider across the bed.  Logan pushed himself up off the bed, holding his nightstand as a support.

“At this point, I’m not sure,” Logan admitted, shuffling to his dresser. “I need Xious to agree to not fighting if everything doesn’t go their way and I need Ticevas to agree to providing aid.  They’re in the midst of a famine and Roman has a short temper so high stakes plus-”

“High stakes plus my dumbass twin does not equal peace,” Remus finished for him and Logan snorted. 

“Exactly.”

“What do you plan to do about it?” Remus said.  The king draped his ceremonial cloak around his shoulders and paused.

“I’m not entirely sure,” Logan said hesitantly. “I’m hoping that-” he cut himself off, before glancing at Remus. “I’m hoping Virgil will be a little bit like me.” Remus’ eyes widened and he rolled onto his side facing Logan.

“I’ve got to say, beating heart, that’s quite a tall order.” Logan looked away, avoiding Remus’ cutting gaze.

“Well, it’s my only hope that the boy has a minute amount of common sense in his bones.” He chuckled. “It’s either hope for that or pretend that Roman has all the common sense and I somehow doubt that.”  Remus gave full-body smile and Logan smiled as he stared down at the floor. “I don’t want to leave, Remus,” he said quietly. 

“Come here,” Remus said, his voice holding a sensual lilt.  Logan turned his head back up. His lover had a hand stretched out and a wicked smile spread across his face.

“Remus,” Logan said warningly. Remus scoffed.

“Oh please, we won’t get messy unless you really want to,” Remus teased. “I just- you need a distraction and I can give you that.” Logan swallowed nervously, trailing his eyes up and down Remus’ body.

“Can you?” Logan said at last.  Remus closed his fist in a “come hither” gesture and Logan couldn’t stop himself from indulging, at least one last time.

-

Logan woke up that morning with the feeling of someone slamming a hammer into the inside of his temple repeatedly. 

Now, there are several things to unpack in this statement.  For starters, there is no such thing as a hammer being present inside his skull.  It is impossible and Logan wasn’t sure if a hammer so small with such power could even exist. 

And although Logan continuously prided himself on not believing in the superstitious, his mother’s upbringing had instilled certain fears in him and his inability to even handle the sound of his skin against his bedsheets did not sit well with him.

Pain in his head such as this was usually only cured by drinking ridiculous amounts of water and resting for hours on end.  Logan grabbed the glass of water sitting on his bedside table, drinking it as if his life depended on it, and then slammed it back onto the wood surface as he threw his legs over the side of his bed.

As soon as the cold air hit his knees, he recoiled and tightened his fist in the blankets.  Although Cygnas was in its spring prime, thunderstorms still found their way into the season, as if to plague the king himself. 

Today would not be a good day.

Dressing was a struggle.  He pretended not to see Emile wince as he battled his way into the immense amounts of garb considered necessary at diplomatic conventions.  Navigating his room brought tears to his eyes and frequently, he found himself gripping onto the nearest surface and taking heaving breaths as he waited for the pain in his legs to subside enough for him to keep going.  He knew he was in for it when Emile presented his crutches and he didn’t even think twice before slipping his arms in and resting his entire weight against the mobility aid. 

Logan must have looked as haggard as he felt because every worker of the castle who crossed his path as he dragged himself to the throne room immediately scuttled away, for fear that his temper might cut short with them.

He couldn’t blame them.

Sinking into the plush chair that awaited him in the giant dining room he insisted on eating in each morning was a relief.  The ache in his knees lessened as he stretched his legs out, but every so often, a twitch or a jolt of his body would cause the throbbing to pound in time to the hammer in his head.

Emile set the platter of food in front of him and did not even hesitate before patting the king on the shoulder. “I’ve requested that Remus join you this morning and I’ve given the others orders not to disturb you until you call for me.” Logan looked up at his steward with alarm, but Emile just smiled. “I’m a sucker for romance, Your Majesty, and I’ve known for far too long to not notice the signs.” 

“I didn’t realize we were so conspicuous,” Logan murmured, leaning against the back of the chair. Emile just shrugged.

“You remind me of my husband and me is all.” Emile pat him again, this time on the head, and let a small chuckle loose when the king blinked rapidly in surprise. “Have a good meal, Logan.” 

Emile left the room, skipping slightly, and opened the large doors to run face-to-face with Remus, who smiled so widely at the sight of the steward that even Emile seemed a bit taken aback.  Logan hid his smile behind his hand as Remus lunged forward to wrap his arms around Emile’s waist and pick him up, squeezing the shocked steward. 

When Remus set him back down, Emile wobbled slightly, though the laughing Logan heard from across the large dining hall soothed his worries that Remus hadn’t been gentle enough with his steward.  Emile patted Remus on the cheek gently and the prince beamed as Emile slipped past and shut the door behind him.

Remus’ smile seemed to spread even more at the sight of Logan, however tired and disheveled he looked to the rest of the world.  Whereas Emile’s skip outside of the room was small and barely noticeable, the Ticevan seemed to leap into the air as he wiggled his way to Logan’s side. “Hello, my dear,” Logan greeted softly, careful not to jostle his legs as he reached a hand to grasp at Remus.

“Hey, Logie,” Remus said just as quietly, gripping Logan’s hand to his chest and he sunk to one knee so that he could rest his forehead against Logan. “Emmy told me that you weren’t feeling so spic-and-span.” Logan huffed through his nose in amusement.

“Since when are you on such good terms with my steward?” he asked rhetorically and Remus didn’t so much as laugh as jostle his shoulders. “Are you two conspiring against me?”

“And what if we were?” Remus asked. “Maybe it’s my job to seduce you and then Emile’s gonna, I don’t know, take over the kingdom.”  Logan chuckled out-loud.

“I’m not sure how seduced I can be in this state, but I have no doubt the kingdom would do well in Emile’s hands.” Remus pouted.

“No, Logie,” he whined, “you’re supposed to be a tyrant, not a reasonable human being.” Logan smiled and shrugged his shoulders lightly.

“My apologies,” he whispered as Remus closed the gap between them and pressed their lips together.  Logan breathed in deeply through his nose and shuffled closer, reaching his other hand to grip at Remus’ neck.  They broke apart and Logan sighed happily, shoving his nose into the strip of bare skin at Remus’ neck.

“You really must be going through it if you’re this cuddly,” Remus mused, releasing Logan’s hand so he could card a free hand through soft hairs the base of the king’s scalp.

“All the evidence points towards today not being a good day.” Remus made a sympathetic noise.  Logan pulled back and Remus let him rest against the chair backing.

“Don’t you have that meeting with my brother and the little pip squeak?” Logan snorted.

“I don’t know if the volatile King of Xious would be amenable to being called a pip squeak, but yes, I do.  In approximately an hour and a half, I’ll be trying to stop the leaders of two kingdoms from killing each other.”

“Sounds funky fresh.”

“Where do you even come up with these sayings?”  Remus shrugged.

“I sneak around here and there.  Father is...quite preoccupied with preparations for the coronation so there’s little else he notices, especially regarding my whereabouts.”  Logan tried to make eye contact with Remus, but the prince ducked his head. “I’m truly fine with it, I think I just miss...I miss making an impact,” Remus paused before snorting, “good or bad.”

“Trust me,” Logan said, a bit more sentimentally than intended, “you always make an impact.” Remus gave Logan a smile on the teary side.

“You’re biased, Logan, isn’t that against your whole thing about logic and true verdicts?” Logan made an offended noise.

“It’s an objectively true fact,” Logan insisted. “Nearly everyone would agree with me.” Remus just gave a shrug, still seemingly disbelieving of the king’s statements, but he stopped refuting them, so Logan counted it as a win. 

Eventually, Remus moved to the chair beside Logan and they made their way through the food platter, obviously stocked with some Ticevan delights that few knew were the prince-general's favorites.  Laughing too hard made Logan’s legs ache with the movement and his head continuously throbbed, but the stack of rocks that had built up on his chest seemed to fall over at each joke or hidden barb at his brother that Remus made. The sun slowly rose up in the sky, highlighting the two lovers, whispering and giggling as if they were teenagers all over again.

“It’s been two hours,” Logan remarked at one point, recovering from a bout of laughter that nearly sent him to the floor. Remus shrugged, his trademark rebellious smile playing at his lips.

“And?” Logan gave him a deadpan look.

“I have responsibilities, Remus.” The prince waved a hand in dismissal.

“Responsibilities, shmesponsibilities,” he leaned in closely, shuffling his chair so that he could touch their noses together, “let’s burn this place to the ground.”  Logan smiled, his heart full in his chest.

“So long as my library stays intact, there’s no reason why this place doesn’t need a renovation,” Logan teased.” Remus bit his lip, trying not to laugh, and Logan saw him pump his fist in celebration underneath the table. “Of course, I’m joking, dear Remus, I quite like my home.” Remus ceased his excitement to feign disappointment.

“Oh, you’re no fun, Logie,” he moaned, throwing himself back into his chair.  Logan merely grinned and raised his cup to his mouth, sipping as Remus thrashed about.

The doors to the dining hall creaked open.  It was like a switch had been flipped.  While Remus maintained his strewn about position, he pulled his chair away and spun the food platter so that it was sitting directly in front of Logan.  The king swept a hand through his hair and gingerly lifted his legs from their spot against an ottoman set underneath the table so that he could sit with his back straight.  His hand was clenched around his glass and Logan felt like his heart was in his throat.  Remus, though he mastered looking casual in tricky situations, had a nervous air about him that Logan could feel from where he was sitting.

The guest stepped into the room without much fanfare and turned to make sure the door was shut behind them.  Their white tunic shone brightly in the morning light.  They turned around and the gleaming smile and red curly hair instantly relaxed the entire room.

“You bastard,” Remus groaned, sinking down into his seat. “You fucking bastard.”  Roman merely smiled innocently as he approached the table.  Even Logan slumped slightly, taking a few deep breaths as he lifted his aching limbs back onto the ottoman to stretch out.

“You caused an immense amount of anxiety, I do agree.” Logan said, trying to take another sip of his glass to calm down.

“Not my fault you guys haven’t gone public yet,” Roman teased as he took the seat next to Remus. Remus groaned theatrically and Logan shook his head.

“We’ve been over this, Roman, there are many reasons why Remus and I cannot be out of the metaphorical closet and-” Roman raised a hand.

“I know, Pocket Protector,” he said, “I was just teasing.” Logan rolled his eyes and resisted the urge to cross his arms in a petulant manner. “Are you ready for the meeting?”

It felt like an avalanche had just toppled over his body, the way Logan felt like he couldn’t breathe.  Chills filled with heat raced up and down his back and he let go of his glass to discreetly wipe his hands against his cloth napkin. “I- I suppose that I am, I have all the documents prepared in the primary office.”  Remus must’ve noticed how he was fidgeting with the napkin because his brow furrowed and he opened up his mouth.  Logan all but threw the napkin back to the table and made quick work of setting his legs back down on the ground, cutting off whatever Remus wanted to say to him.

“Wonderful!” Roman cheered, not noticing the exchange going on between the two lovers, or the immense glare Remus was now sending his way. “I can escort you to the meeting place?”

Logan waved him off. “You go on ahead, Roman, I will have to take my time this morning,” he said as he stood up and slipped his arms into the crutches leaned up against the table.  Now it was Roman’s turn to furrow his brow and grow concerned and Logan cursed the day he became friends with the two princes. “I will be fine.”

Remus huffed through his nose, muttering something under his breath that Logan knew to be calling him out as a liar, but he refused to acknowledge it, only bending slightly for Remus to kiss him on the cheek as Roman stood from his seat.

Roman trailed the way, throwing the heavy oak doors open and all but marched down the hallway to Logan’s office, where the meeting would take place.  Logan struggled to find his footing, the dull throbbing in his head and knees expanded tenfold as he tried to walk to the door.  He felt Remus’ gaze on him, but he refused to turn back, afraid that he would just melt to the ground if he made eye contact.  He walked past the threshold of the dining hall and the guards swung the door shut behind him.

-

Walking to the meeting felt like it took another three hours, though logically, Logan knew it had only been twenty minutes.  Walking without his aids would’ve taken another forty at this rate and quite honestly, he was proud of the pace he was making.   

What was admittedly awful about said twenty minutes was the amount of time it gave him to think.

Logan enjoyed thinking; it was practically his job to think.  Cygnas remained the kingdom with the region’s largest library and it brought him never-ending joy to contribute to that collection.  Studying and researching was a favorite pastime and the only thing he enjoyed about hosting events and having guests was the knowledge they would bring him about their homes and countries.

But this felt like something entirely different than the thinking he had come to enjoy and take pleasure in.  This felt like a worry after worry compounding into itself, growing bigger and bigger until he felt like a small child in the middle of the eye of a storm.

His office door loomed in front of him and the pressure of thousands upon thousands of souls rested heavy on his shoulders.  Memories of his sister and parents swirled around him, ghosts long since dead risen again for the sole sake of reminding him what lay before him should he fail.  His vision swam and had he not been resting steady against his aids, he would have surely toppled over from the weight of his ancestors and their collective duty to protect his people placing itself on to him.

He motioned for the guard standing by the door to open it for him.  There was no ominous creak as it opened, but Logan’s mind filled in the blanks. 

Roman and Virgil sat across from each other in front of the fireplace, an antique tea set sitting between them.  As Logan stepped inside, they both rose to their feet to greet him. “Good morning, King Virgil, Crown Prince Roman.  I am glad to see you both here.”

Virgil bowed, a symbol of respect in Xious.  Logan felt an odd lump developing in his throat, but he swallowed it down.  Based on the growing look of offense on Roman’s face, Virgil had not given the crown prince the same honor.  Roman simply shook his hand and preformed a rune in the air, with a motion to push it towards Logan, a standard Ticevan greeting of monarchs in a formal setting such as this.

Logan nodded his head towards the seats and motioned for Emile, who he just noticed was standing in the corner of the room, to gather the papers at his desk and bring them to where they were sitting. “Let us begin, shall we?”

Virgil and Roman resumed their original positions, while Logan took up the seat that was not usually there at the head of the coffee table.  Emile poured him tea as Logan spread the documents across the table, handing each party a copy of the details they were there to discuss.

“Thank you for hosting this meeting and acting as a mediator, Your Majesty.  It is quite the honor,” Roman said, glaring daggers at Virgil over the tops of the papers he was skimming.  Virgil nodded in agreement, setting the papers to down to pick up his cup.

“I agree with Ticevas, and that is quite the thing to say, seeing as I don’t agree with Ticevas on much of anything at all.” Roman went red in the face and Logan saw the grip on the papers tighten as Virgil innocently sipped at his tea.

“It is my pleasure,” Logan said. “I simply want the best for my people and I have strong evidence to believe that this meeting will be fruitful for all parties involved.” Roman wrinkled his nose.  Logan almost kicked him in the shin.

“I, for one, want this to be resolved.  My advisors grow restless with me having been away for so long,” Virgil said.  Logan furrowed his brow at the mention of the advisors.  He was unsure of how much of the previous conversations between him and Virgil he wanted to bring up with Roman present, but he might ask if Virgil would be willing to discuss more in private.

That is, if everything went well today.

“If it is amenable to the both of you, I would like to begin with the meeting that took place two months ago, as of today.”  Virgil went tense and Roman scowled. “It is to my understanding that neither of you were there at that meeting.”

“That is correct,” Roman said. “However, my brother was there and I trust his word.”

“Your Highness, we are not here to discuss the alleged threatening on either side,” Logan cut in. “If I wanted to do that, I would have let your two kingdoms go to war already.” Virgil snickered, hiding his laughter behind another sip of tea when Roman glared at him.

“I am simply stating my matter on the opinion,” the prince harumphed, crossing his arms.

“I was hoping-”

“I don’t think hope will get you much of anywhere,” Virgil snarked, still holding the cup to his mouth. Logan sighed, his headache beginning to spread to the middle of his head.

“Please, let me speak.” Virgil shrugged, but Logan could see him chewing on the inside of his cheek. 

“The Ticevan land has been rented out to the kingdom of Xious for centuries.  The rates of rent have always remained the same.  Why are you asking for the rates to be changed, King Virgil?”

“My kingdom is in famine,” the boy said primly, jutting out his chin.  “We need food and Ticevas has plenty to share.”

“Ticevas has been plenty generous with the land we’ve offered to you, we have no obligation to give more.”

“Xious offered for you to have the largest military this side of Capemin at your disposal in exchange for lowering the rates for five years, you cannot look me in the eye and say that we did not give you reason to accept our proposal.” Roman looked taken aback.  Logan averted his eyes to the papers on the desk.

“I know Xiousians are a lot of things, but I didn’t know they were liars,” Roman said, almost conversationally.  Virgil startled, looking slightly like an agitated feline.

“Your Highness,” Logan said warningly. Roman waved him off.

“No, no, this is bullshit-”

“Roman-”

“There was never such an offer and I am offended at the mere idea that we would even accept such a savage exchange.” Virgil’s eyes seemed to flash red.

“Savage? If I remember correctly, that land was ours in the first place, but you pushed my people out and forced them to run into the mountains where they barely survived-”

“-I resent this accusation-”

“I didn’t mean for you to enjoy being called a murderer, Crown-Prince Roman, that would be pretty savage if you did.”

“Logan, throw him out.” Roman turned suddenly to the older king.  Logan looked at him over the top of his glasses, flitting back to Virgil who now had his arms crossed and looked five seconds away from storming out.

“No,” Logan said calmly. He saw Virgil blink in surprise. “I invited you both here for a civil conversation and so far, you are being anything but civil-”

“He started it-”

“-and you’re not even letting me finish my sentences.” Roman’s nostrils flared and his hands clenched into fists at his side.

“Is Cygnas not a Ticevan ally?” Logan looked nervously at Virgil, but the younger king avoided his gaze.

“Yes, but-”

“But nothing, Logan, you should be supporting me and tossing this riffraff out with the rest of his kind.”

“Your Highness, I will do no such thing.” Roman paused in his motions, unnervingly still.

“Fine.” Roman stood up.  Virgil shrunk back and Logan became viscerally aware that this was not a private conversation between him and a friend about his temperament, but rather a political discussion over whether or not war would break out between their three countries. He had forgotten himself and now everything hung in the balance. “Ticevas officially removes herself from this meeting.”

“Roman, sit down,” Logan demanded, his voice calm even if his hands began to shake. “You don’t want this to go where you’re thinking.”

“Just because you have a soft spot for the boy doesn’t mean I do, Logan,” Roman seethed.  “I don’t have to listen to you and I never have.  I should have ignored you from day one, Logan.  Valerie is dead. Deal with it.”  Roman stalked out of the office, his sleek boots hitting the stone ground sounding like the din of a thousand soldiers marching on the city gates as the noise echoed around the room.

“Valerie?” a questioning voice came.  Logan’s tunnel vision receeded slightly to accompany Virgil in his periphery. “That is my mother.  You were friends- is that why I am here? Because you pity me?”

“No,” Logan ducked his head, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You- you don’t respect my country or my people, do you?” Logan’s shoulders scrunched forwards, the sheer anger in the child’s voice making even him panicky. It was all falling apart, all the diligent planning, all because he couldn’t handle the pressure of his sacred duty as king.

“If you would let me explain-”

“No! No, I don’t think I will, because you lied to me!” Virgil shouted, his chest heaving.  Logan felt his anxiety crawl into his throat, squeezing his vocal folds shut.

“I never lied to you,” the older king croaked. “And none of this is about you being Valerie’s child, I assure you.” Virgil narrowed his eyes at him, any hint of the camaraderie they had developed over the past few days gone.

“You can’t prove that.” Logan swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry.

“When you showed up, my steward told me that I had the right not to speak with you, but you know, I know-” Logan cut himself off, trying to stave off panicked tears. “It was either speak to you or let my country burn to the ground, I had heard what Ticevas was warning me over and it wasn’t about manipulation, it was about protecting my people.” Virgil stared at him.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Then how do I make you believe me?” Logan exclaimed. “How do I prove what is intangible? That just because Valerie is my sister does not mean that I wanted to control you and your kingdom?” Virgil paused.

“My mother was your sister?” he asked, the quiet room coming to a standstill.  Logan’s face crumpled.

“Virgil-”

“My mother was your sister?” Virgil shouted, cutting Logan off. The older king sighed, his hands clenching around his knees.

“Yes, but-”

“If I die, you have a claim to the throne! You could take over!” Virgil said incredulously.  Logan’s heartrate went through the roof. “Is there poison in my cup? An assassin laying just outside the room? Were the Ticevan disagreements just a ruse to get me here and kill me in my sleep?!” Logan shook his head.

“No, of course not, that would only harm my people, I want peace, Virgil-”

“No, I will not hear it, Xious will not hear it.”  Virgil stalked over to the door, throwing it open.  He looked over his shoulder, making eye contact with Logan. The burning hatred in his eyes made the older king feel faint. “This is war, Cygnas.  You will have my kingdom over my dead body and I don’t intend on living this realm anytime soon.”

The door slamming shut behind Logan’s nephew sounded like an arrow from a firing squad hitting its mark, right in the center of his chest.

[lesdemonium]

please please give us a 33. baby fic (i hope this means there is a baby and not the characters are babies or have known each other since they were babies) and 52. marriage of convenience geraskier mash-up 😌💕

oops i angsted all over this!!!

33. Baby Fic  + 52. Marriage of Convenience 

“What is this horseshit?”

Geralt looked up from the paperwork Yennefer provided him with. He was tensed, ready for a fight, but Yennefer held up her hand as if to stop him. It was with a huff that he allowed her to silence him, but he narrowed his eyes to find some way to voice his displeasure. 

“The judge is a family matters type judge. He won’t care if you’re the better parent, or that Ciri actually knows you. In his eyes, the fact that they’re her grandparents and that there are two of them means they are the obvious choice. I agree with you, it’s horseshit, but if we want to win this, we have to play ball. Now, as your legal advisor, I cannot advocate for you... bending the rules. But as your friend. Well. I think you need to do whatever you possibly can to make yourself a more ideal candidate in this judge’s eyes.”

Geralt’s lips thinned. He wanted to yell at Yen, to tell her this was stupid and archaic and made no sense at all. He’d had Ciri for a year now after the death of her parents. As far as she was concerned, Geralt was her dad. Now her estranged grandparents thought they had rights, and by all accounts would win their custody battle? It wasn’t fair. It was deeply, deeply unfair, both to him and to Ciri.

“What are you suggesting I do, then?” Geralt finally spat, glowering at her.

Yennefer spread her hands out on the table, palms up. She looked at him, an eyebrow raised, and tilted her head. Already, Geralt didn’t like whatever plan she had in mind. But if it would keep his 18 month old with him, he would be willing to do anything.

“How do you feel about marriage?”

--

It was a stupid idea. Geralt knew that even as he worked himself up to have the conversation all throughout Ciri’s bedtime routine. He took his time with it, trying to stretch out the diaper change, putting on her pajamas, and reading her stories as long as possible. Eventually, though, it all came to an end. Ciri was tired, and when Geralt put her in her crib, she rolled over onto her stomach almost immediately, her butt in the air, chasing sleep.

Geralt’s steps were heavy as he made his way down the stairs. He could hear Jaskier at the kitchen table, typing away on his laptop, and Geralt’s heartbeat only got faster.

“Hey! Let me just--” he finished typing with a flourish, then closed the laptop. Jaskier turned to face Geralt with a smile, holding out his hand for Geralt to take. Geralt did, and sat down in the chair across from Jaskier. “How did the meeting with Yen go? What did she say about all this?”

Geralt swallowed thickly. “She said they have a case. Not really, because Ciri’s grandparents don’t know her and Pavetta and Duny had a will, but the judge they have, probably paid for... we’ll have an uphill battle. Yen thinks they’ll be able to prove Ciri shouldn’t stay with me.”

Jaskier’s face looked stricken. He tightened his hold on Geralt’s hand. “But that doesn’t make any sense! She’s been here since she was six months! You’re her dad. They can’t just... take custody away from you because they decided to swoop back into her life!”

Geralt shook his head. “They shouldn’t be able to. But they have money. This judge tends to side with biological family. We could probably dispute that, by leaning heavily on the fact that they were estranged, and I was in Ciri’s life even before the accident. But he also likes two-parent households. He’s not a fan of single parents.”

“God, of all the prejudiced--I can’t believe that. There has to be something we can do. They can’t just... take her.” Jaskier bit his lip harshly, looking down. His eyes were beginning to tinge red, and Geralt didn’t blame him. Geralt had cried his fill earlier that day.

“Will you marry me?” 

The words burst out of Geralt so quickly, they were largely inarticulate. Jaskier’s eyes latched back onto Geralt’s as his eyebrows shot up. Geralt felt his mouth grow dry.

“Geralt, what--”

“A two parent household, Jask. We could be that if we got married. You’ve already been here for most of her life, she knows you and loves you. I love you. It would strengthen our case, and Yen thinks it’d be enough to get the judge to side with me.”

“Romantic, Geralt,” Jaskier said, voice dripping with sarcasm. He frowned and pulled his hand away from Geralt, instead wrapping it around his torso as if he were hugging himself. Or protecting himself. “Exactly what I’ve always dreamed my boyfriend would say. A marriage of convenience. Forgive me if I don’t swoon.”

“Jask, that’s not--” Geralt ran his fingers through his hair. It was what he meant, though. Jaskier was right. This wasn’t romantic, it was just pure convenience. He could understand the hurt, angry look Jaskier was giving him.

“I’m a little tired of Yennefer leading our relationship, Geralt. Do you really need her to field every single step we take? You only asked me out because she told you to stop being an idiot, and now you’re asking me to marry you on her legal advice. Jesus, did you consult her before we fucked, too? Did she give you tips and pointers? Should I thank her for you asking me to move in?” Jaskier pushed himself back from the table abruptly, the chair scraping on the floor. He stood up and walked into the kitchen proper, his back to Geralt.

“Jaskier, that isn’t what this is. It’s just to keep Ciri. I’m not trying to--”

“I know, Geralt. I fucking know, okay? And it’s very admirable and any other time I’d be swept right off my feet that you’d be willing to do anything for Ciri. But not when it means stomping all over me. I know Ciri always comes first, I agree, but can’t I at least be second?” His back was still turned to Geralt, but now Geralt could see his hands reach out to grasp the edge of the counter, holding Jaskier up. Geralt could see the muscles pressing taut against Jaskier’s skin.

Geralt stood, walking over to Jaskier slowly, as if he was a deer, easily spooked. Geralt reached out and touched Jaskier’s shoulder, and Jaskier yanked himself away.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t intend to hurt you.” Jaskier huffed out a humorless laugh. “I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. You and Ciri are my family. I didn’t want to make you feel otherwise, but I know this proposal isn’t exactly... encouraging affection.”

“You can say that again,” Jaskier replied. 

When Geralt touched him again, though, Jaskier didn’t tug away. Geralt took Jaskier’s hand again, turning Jaskier until Jaskier faced him, teary eyes and all. Jaskier’s back pressed against the counter and Geralt stepped into his space, taking Jaskier’s face in his hands.

“I’ll admit I wasn’t ready to propose, not actually. I don’t want this to be our story or for a hasty, courthouse, wedding of convenience to be how I tell the world I love you.” He took a deep breath, watching Jaskier’s face. Though his mouth was still a thin line and his hands remained tight on the counter, he was at least listening to Geralt. “When I propose to you, for real, it will have nothing to do with Yennefer, and will be solely about you. When we get married, we’ll have a ceremony, however you want it to look, and I will kiss you until you’re embarrassed of me. All I’m asking of you now is to help me keep our baby. Marry me on paper, that’s all. Please, Jaskier.”

Jaskier sniffed and rolled his eyes. “Your actual proposal better be so fucking romantic. And it is officially yours. There is absolutely zero chance of me proposing to you, now. You need to figure out how to make it a story worth telling to make up for this bullshit.”

Geralt nodded. He swiped his thumb out to wipe away a tear.

“And you are so in the doghouse. For a while, Geralt Rivia. This was a colossally bad false-start, and I demand to be woo’d and courted for my forgiveness.”

“Of course.”

Jaskier pursed his lips and tried to blink away his tears. “And marriage is something you want eventually, for real, not just to give us some legitimacy? Because I didn’t think you even wanted to get married at all. Being yours without a certificate didn’t bother me. But doing it that way when you don’t even want to do it that way, ever, that would just kill me, Geralt. I’ll do anything to keep Ciri but don’t--please don’t--I can’t if doing this will ruin everything.”

Geralt shook his head. “It won’t. We were going to get married one day, no matter what. The right way. I’m settling for doing it the wrong way so that I can keep you both forever.”

“Will things change?”

“Absolutely nothing. I’ll love you just the same before and after. It’s about legality only. Otherwise, I’m very happy with us.”

Jaskier took a deep breath and nodded. His arms finally snaked their way around Geralt’s waist and Geralt took that as permission to kiss Jaskier. It was soft, chaste, just a testing of the water. Jaskier looked wrecked when Geralt pulled away, though. He wouldn’t press it further.

“Okay. Let’s keep our baby,” Jaskier whispered.

send me a geraskier prompt mashup?

[yandere-daydreams]

if request slots are open: consider. i know you don’t like shoto but listen listen. royalty!au in which the darling is also a royal, of an opposing kingdom. shoto just thinks they’re so soft and lovely and why won’t they accept his marriage proposal?

This is pure self-indulgence, really. I just want to use fancy language and imagery and say nothing bluntly ever because straight-forwardness was only invented in the 1900s, and this is a reality I accept.

TW: Dehumanization, Abuse of Power, and Metaphors.

~

Your kingdom was known for never refusing a guest.

It was a state more than a nation, really, a wonderful city that relied on trade and unity to sustain itself. As such, you were more of a diplomat than a ruler, a host dressed in jewels and made to entertain true leaders from the allies held in such high-esteem by your advisors. You’d mastered the art of meaningless conversation, your patience taught to you by decades of being talked-over, and although many royals had seen fit to test your policy, there was always a free room ready when they were prepared to humble themselves and accept it. You adored that part of your occupation, how kind you got to be, to your people, traveling peasants, kings and queens and anyone who crossed your path. You liked to be generous.

But, Shoto was not a Prince known for bringing out the best in people. And you were certainly no exception to his contagious aversion.

Usually, you would make an effort to greet your visitors in the courtyard, but his visits were too frequent and too impulsive for you to do so much as stand before his entourage was in your throne room, the young Prince standing before you. He didn’t seem to mind your lack of enthusiasm, the boy smiling so brightly as he stepped in front of the elevated platform. You didn’t doubt he would run to your seat, if given the chance, but your personal guards made their aggression known as soon as his foot touched the first step of the short flight. “My Songbird,” He greeted, instead, not seeming to notice the way you cringed at the nickname. “You haven’t been responding to my letters, but my yearning still persists. Have you grown tired of singing to me so quickly?”

“I do not see why it’s necessary to respond to inquiries I have already answered.” Your voice was cold, at best, frigid at worst. You didn’t have it in your heart to be cruel to anyone, much less a friend you had once held so dear. Even with how appealing he made cruelty seem, these days. “I am not your songbird, but if I was, I think you would dread having to hear the same two notes play on a never-ending loop. God knows my throat has grown sore from delivering them.” You paused, glancing towards the advisor on your left, positioned there on the chance your behavior slipped into something less than agreeable. She waited a moment, pondering, but a nod was all you needed to proceed. “You must be tired, Todoroki, please allow my valet to show you to your chambers. A long journey deserves an even longer rest.”

You saw Shoto falter, a hand unconsciously coming to rest on the sword at his belt. You guards mirrored the gesture, although you didn’t take it as a threat. “I am thankful for any note you grace me with,” He assured, taking another step forward. “But, there are three that would make me euphoric. Isn’t that what you should want? Why would you sing at all, if not to make someone happy?”

Straightening you back, you leaned forward, uncrossing your legs to better fill your throne. “I sing for my own joy, no one else’s. Be glad I am forgiving enough to let you listen from a distance.” He opened his mouth, but you carried on, drawing circles in the velvet under your arms. “My answer is no, and there is nothing you can do to change my mind. When I find a shelter I can roost in, one I choose to roost in, then and only then will make my nest. I have no desire to make my home a cage, regardless of how golden the bars.”

At that, he smiled, and you dug your nails into the soft fabric. “It would be a beautiful cage, wouldn’t it?”

“You’re intolerable,” You mumbled, deflating. It was hard to be angry, now, the disappointment cutting through you more deeply than the knife of loathing ever could. Marriage was not a necessity, to you. Unlike his own clan, your’s had never placed an emphasis on blood. You’d been an orphan most of your life, and you had no issue with continuing the tradition your childless parents had started. Children who’d never known love always seemed more appreciative when receiving it, although you’d admit Shoto’s existence contested that theory. “I cannot–”

“And a beautiful cage deserves a stunning creature to inhabit it,” Shoto continued, speaking over you without hesitation. Another step was taken, then another, leaving Shoto towering before you, too close for comfort. You were tempted to stand, if only to put the two of you at an equal height, but Shoto would’ve simply found another way to place himself above you. He was good at that, especially if it meant making you feel small. “Think of it as an alliance. Your country would have my father’s army behind it, and I would have you. Is that not a worthwhile sacrifice?” You weren’t given time to answer his question, Shoto dropping to one knee unceremoniously, suddenly. It caught you off guard, enough so for you to lean forward, moving to help him up. But, Shoto only took your extended hand, holding your palm to his cheek as he spoke. “Visits aren’t enough, this isn’t enough. I wish to have you as my partner, and if I don’t, I can not guarantee my next action will be one of peace.”

You jerked back, not asking for permission before pushing yourself onto your feet. It took more of your self-control than it should’ve to keep from telling him to leave, to get out of your castle and never come back. Your anger must’ve been visible, because your advisor reached out as soon as your fists had a chance to ball, a steady palm coming to rest on your shoulder. It was a small consolation, but it snapped you out of your rage nonetheless, even if your calmness was still volatile when regained.

“Rest, Little Prince. Exhaustion has clouded your better judgment.” His eyes widened, lips contorting into a frown, but you didn’t give him a chance to refuse. Instead, you made the first move, waving for your guards to follow as you descended the short staircase. “If I hear one more word about marriage, I fear I may be the one to abandon our treaties. This songbird wishes to sing in another court, for now.”

 Shoto was quick to stay on your heels, his excuses following just as closely. “But–”

“One more word,” You warned, his troop of guards and servants parting to let you through. “I don’t wish to make an enemy out of you. Please, enjoy my city and take advantage of my hospitality, but do not approach me with the same attitude. I have made up my mind, and my decision is final.”

And with that, you left. That was the advantage of his petname, you supposed.

Flying away was much easier when you were given wings.

But, Shoto was a beast of the ground, unfortunately.

He stayed as you fled, watching you run from him like prey from a predator. Part of him acknowledged your feelings, or the lack thereof, rather. He knew you didn’t love him, not truly, and he knew you didn’t care for him as he cared for you. He knew you didn’t want to be with him.

And yet, you were kind and welcoming and genuine. You were loving towards him, even if you didn’t love him.

Shoto took a moment to scan over the room. His guards surrounded him, as faithful as ever, each buzzing for an order. His father had never allowed him to travel lightly, even when Shoto was more than capable of protecting himself. Your nation didn’t have the same strength. With no standing army, no way to defend yourself, you relied on neutrality and alliances for protection. It was a symbolic security, but one that would stand unless a very powerful, very feared kingdom attacked.

Unless Shoto’s kingdom attacked.

He decided he would bring the idea to his siblings, as he waited for the room’s doors close behind you. It would be a controversial suggestion, but there was territory to be gained, resources that could help more deserving people. With their forces, it would be over in a matter of days, hours, even. He doubted your ‘allies’ would care, by the end of the week.

Besides, Shoto had a pet who needed to be put back on their leash. 

You seemed to think you’d outgrown your cage.

[kylorengarbagedump]

Little Bird: Chapter 30

Read on AO3. Part 29 here. Part 31 here.

Summary: Survival, but at what cost?

Words: 3400

Warnings: emotions

Characters: Kylo Ren x Handmaid!Reader

A/N: It's technically Friday right?

I've been done this chapter for days and I've just been sitting on it out of pure anxiety. HAHA. But I did edit it and post it so here you go. Hope you enjoy. It's a bit of a break in some ways, not a break in others. Let me know what you think--I'm ever-molding, ever-receptive!

I love y'all! Stay safe with COVID. <3

You did not remember arriving home, exiting the Audi, stepping out into the searing sun. You did not remember the car ride: a murky journey spent in silence next to your Commander, a sentient shade. You did not remember being led from the balcony down the steps, through the halls, stares sticking to you like sap, stringing syrupy sinews to your skin. You did not remember the moment you stood, or the moment you breathed, or the moment you finally moved. Most mercifully, you did not remember the body--a gruesome, heavy pendulum--as it rocked in the cotton air breeze.

What you did remember was a sharp growl of breath as Johana flung open the front door, eyes rimmed red and burning with the fuel of exhaustion.

“Glad you could make it home, Commander.” She aimed the sword of her stare at you, but it pierced you like rubber. “You must have had a wonderful evening together. Won’t both of you come in?”

You followed him like a zombie, gaze trained on the ground, watching from outside your body as you climbed the steps, crossed the foyer, swept past the kitchen. Tile blurred to wood blurred to a soft Persian pattern. All you could stand to focus on was the wall, the rhythm of your breath, the thump of your still-beating heart.

Unlike hers.

It was only after Johana snapped her fingers in front of your face that you were aware that you’d taken a seat in the parlour room. You’d landed on a dark leather Chesterfield sofa (what was the preoccupation with Chesterfield, in this house?), your Commander and Johana standing at odds beyond the ebony coffee table at your knees. Her arms were crossed. He regarded her like one might regard a swarm of ants on the kitchen table.

“Well?” She looked between you. “What do you have to say for yourselves?”

Of course, you had nothing to say. So you said nothing. Kylo Ren also said nothing, but his silence was far more unreasonable.

“Don’t just stand there,” she said. “You can at least bother to explain why you left me alone in the house without so much as a word.”

“I wasn’t aware I owed you my agenda.”

She blinked. “Oh, please,” she replied, “as if I care about your agenda, at this point. What if something had happened while you were gone? To the house?”

Kylo sniffed. “The Knights were present.”

“They’re your men, not Gilead’s. They can’t prevent me from being questioned by the Eyes.” Johana scowled. “They can’t prevent the Council from ordering this house to be torn apart.”

You stared at your hand, at the sprig of cuticle poking from your thumb--you pinched it, tugged it, pain shooting up your wrist. Real, restorative breath would not come to you. Neither would any coherent thought.

“You believe the Council would arrive at my home unannounced. In the middle of the night.”

She blinked, as if he’d asked if she believed the world was round. “After your display with your little slut last night?” she asked, gesturing to you. “I certainly wouldn’t be surprised.”

“She is my advisor.”

Johana snorted. “An advisor to what?” she asked. “Your cock?”

Kylo’s lip curled, and he stepped toward her, shoulders rolling. “Careful.”

She snarled, not budging an inch. “You think that the others don’t see how you look at her?” she said. “You think that they believe your intentions are innocent?” A disgusted, tired laugh escaped her. “Where did you go all night?”

Silence. Kylo was a wolf, thirsty for her rabbit blood. But she wasn’t backing down.

“You never answer my questions,” she said. “Not even after I… I’ve lied for you, taken responsibility for your thoughtlessness, thrown you parties to help with your ridiculously poor public image--”

His fists furled. “None of which I requested.”

“It doesn’t matter!” Her voice was rising. “I did it for you! I did it for Gilead, I--I… I did it for our future!” she said. “One day, we’re going to have a child together, and I want that child to know the Gilead that I know!”

The tear at your thumb split past the nail bed. A child. Your child. Just hours ago you would’ve been sickly elated to be pregnant. Now you wanted to rip your uterus out, barren with bare hands. Gilead was no place to create new life. And Kylo Ren certainly wasn’t the man to create new life with. What had you been thinking? Blood beaded, slipped in a fat drop down your knuckle. It was a relief.

“The Gilead you know is imperfect.” His hands were still balled. “You’re clinging to the past.”

“I’m clinging to what God would’ve wanted!”

“You’re clinging to what Moden Canady wanted.”

Johana’s face tightened, and she sneered, pointing an accusatory finger at her husband. “At least Moden would’ve thanked me!” she said. “Moden would’ve never had an affair with--with some whore, someone disgusting enough to be made a Handmaid to begin with!”

“Johana.”

Flush heat bloomed red at her neck, in her cheeks. “Moden loved me,” she seethed, “he would never have left me alone, he would never have--”

“Enough.”

“--forgotten his purpose as a husband, which is to protect me, to care for me--”

“Enough.”

“--and he never would’ve humiliated me by having some whore wear my old clothes in front of everybody I know!”

A pause. Kylo glimpsed you for only a second--saw your bleeding thumb--but did not respond.

Johana trembled, veins bulging in her neck, and she advanced on him. “Where’s my dress?” When he didn’t respond, she screeched, whirling on you. “Where is my dress!”

You were a statue, a worthy target of her ire, as she lunged and charged you, hand shooting for your hair. Kylo growled, snatched her wrist, and she wailed, jerking back, teeth bared in primal rage. He met her with dispassionate irritation as she twisted, yanked, shrieked in his grip, the rabbit now caged by the wolf.

“Let me go, Kylo!”

She flailed, tried to pry him off, whined as she failed to budge even a single finger. Wrath collapsed into resignation, and she groaned, desperation swelling and dying in her chest, recognizing the futility of it all. Clearing her throat, she took a deep breath, smoothed her hair with her free hand and straightened.

“Commander,” she said. “Please, let me go.”

He did, and she whipped her arm back, rubbing her wrist.

“Your dress has been returned to your closet,” he replied. “Where it belongs.”

It almost sounded as if he’d apologized, though that couldn’t be right. It wasn’t for her benefit, anyway, if he had--but you were still too numb to notice.

Johana blinked, then recovered, crossing her arms. “If you think that fixes anything, Sir, it doesn’t,” she said. “Really, just keep the dress wherever you want it. Throw it out, for all I care. I’m sleeping in the guest room down the hall tonight.” She leered at you. “Enjoy.” Then she turned on her heel and left.

The word enjoy made it seem as if you could imagine nothing better than spending another night with the man who had murdered your only confidant in front of you. Ofarmitage’s betrayal was forgivable--after all, it was your trust in your own Commander that had gotten her killed. The fact was, her only mistake had been that she hadn’t been sleeping with Kylo Ren. You two had been one in the same. Equally enslaved, equally naive, equally expendable. Had Hux gotten his way, you’d be the one with the broken neck.

In a way, you envied her.

Alone in the room with your Commander, you continued to sit, unable--unwilling--to make eye contact with him, studying instead the dry red river that had now trickled to your palm. The air was still, emptied even of awkwardness. There was nothing between you, right now, that you wanted to feel. Behind you, beyond the large bay window, mourning doves cooed their soft, sage song.

He shifted, his gaze razor wire, slicing your skin at the thought of being around him a second longer. Glaring at the floor, you stood, marching toward the exit. Kylo reached for your arm, and you dodged him like he was a poltergeist.

“Don’t touch me!” you spat, shrugging your shoulder as if to banish his curse.

You stalked through the halls and up the stairs, head pounding with your audacity. He didn’t try to follow you, and you were glad. A storm ravaged your mind--what was the point of this, or the point of anything?

Enslaved in the home of malevolence manifested, tainted. Terrorized. Everything and anything turned to sand in your mouth, pouring and pouring down your throat until you choked and sputtered and wept into a soundless void. There would be no reprieve from this, in this future or any other future, not as long as you remained you, stupid and gullible and more craven than shadows in sun.

No saints in Gilead indeed--and next to Kylo Ren, you were the worst of them; he’d held you in his blood-soaked hands and stained you with his sins. You were worse than unforgivable.

You were unsalvageable.

When you made it to your room, you slammed the door, ripped your wings and bonnet from your hair, and threw yourself on the bed, smothering your face with your pillow.

There was no screaming, no tears--you held the pillow to your nose and mouth, sucking in nothingness, willing whatever black wraith that controlled your fate to guide you out of this hell and the next. You had no hope for heaven, you decided, if it existed--you’d been to bed with a barbarian, sought solace in his arms, spoiled your soul under his spell. You deserved nothing but utter damnation.

Another deep breath of nothing, and another, lack of oxygen burning behind your eyes, your lungs starved--just a little longer, and you’d pass out. Yet despite your self-loathing, the base of your brain kicked in, hijacking your intent, and you rolled over gasping, staring at the ceiling as static sizzled in your sight.

As you heaved, seconds tumbled into minutes, the desire for self-destruction crumbling with it. A soft sigh escaped. Killing yourself would do nothing but award Gilead another body. If anything, you would live out of spite, denying it the satisfaction of your surrender.

In fact, you’d do more than live out of spite. You’d do what you promised. You’d get the blade with Snoke’s blood and you’d turn it over to the Resistance the second you had a chance.

The resolution brought a calm to your chest. The rest of the day whittled away as you did nothing but lie in bed, apart from eating your quick lunch and dinner in silence. Neither Johana nor your Commander made an appearance throughout your day and into the night, allowing you some time to process. Staring into your ceiling, you picked at your thumb again, peeling the scab.

It was difficult to put into words what you felt for Kylo Ren, but you knew that whatever it was, it had been unlike anything you’d ever experienced, before Gilead or after. The sexual chemistry was one thing, of course, but there was something greater than that, something almost irrevocable. It was the vestiges of compassion in his eyes, the throttled tenderness in his hands, the buried loneliness, his persistent phantom--the phantom that knew you, too.

More shredding of skin, a rush of release shot through your veins. That was the fact that most attracted and disturbed you, the fact that bound you together, the fact that tore you apart--the fact that in the depths of Gilead’s despair, you’d found each other, seen the other with needle-sharp clarity, both born into an unspoken but magnetic understanding.

You’d peered into the pits of his pain, he’d held you, helpless and fractured. He’d been your savior, your asylum, your normality; you’d grounded him and challenged and incited him. And despite this ethereal intimacy that wove between you--

Kylo Ren had deceived you and bound you to insanity, eliminated all avenues of escape--except through him. He was a beast unleashed, devouring his prey and his protectors alike in a gambit to possess it all. He was agony and rage, seeking a home. Kylo Ren was a man so long tormented by demons that he had finally become one.

And you truly, unconditionally hated him.

You stared at your ravaged thumb through the darkness, your blood black in the moonlight. Crickets hummed in harmony outside. In the hall, footsteps creaked the floorboards. Long, strong strides. Your heart seized, face hot. Your door opened.

Kylo Ren--your mirror, your spectre, your Commander--stepped through and closed it behind him. Under the glow of stars, his beauty was a black hole, celestial and sinister, hauling you toward complete annihilation.

“I haven’t seen you,” he said. “All day.”

“I haven’t wanted you to see me.”

“You’re angry.” He stepped forward, inspecting your face. “Your life was endangered. You know that.”

Sighing, you refused to meet his eyes, focusing on your gnarled cuticle. “You made me watch her die.”

“It was important that they see where you stand.”

You balked. “What? Where I stand?”

“Your importance,” he said. “To Gilead. To me.” He paused. “And that attempts to disrupt that will not be tolerated.”

“But I’m disrupting Gilead,” you said. “You’re okay with tolerating that?” Sitting up, you shook your head. “You know from the party last night that I’m still working with the Resistance. Shouldn’t I be killed?” You pried more dry skin from your thumb--pain daggered up your wrist. “Don’t you want to hang--”

“Stop.”

You frowned. “Answer my question, or don’t tell me what to do,” you replied. “I’m not different than Ofarmitage. I fucked you. I even--” The word stuck in your throat, a rock. “I even cared about you.” You sighed. “She wanted more with her Commander. She did what she had to do to get it.” Your nails were caked with blood. “Just like I did.”

Kylo stepped toward your bed. “Whether or not she is different is unimportant,” he said. “She is not you. She threatened you--threatened me.” He paused. “It won’t happen again.”

Hot indignation coursed through you. “What, so she’s just… a sacrifice?”

He came closer. “She was an example.”

“She was a person!” you snapped. “ She had--she had a life!” Your body shook with anger. “You killed her! And now no one will know. No one will know who she was.” Despair coiled your chest. “I didn’t even know her name.”

Kylo Ren was silent. His gaze wandered the room, lingering on the vacant window, your red cheeks, and settled on the floor, lids falling in a slow blink. He ground his teeth in thought, following the lines of the floorboards, tracking their notches. The knot in his throat bobbed, and he blinked again. A tiny exhale escaped his nose. Slowly, his focus returned to you.

“It’s… unfortunate,” he said. “But if protecting your life means that others die in your place, then so be it.”

You shook your head, folding your arms over your chest. “You don’t get to kill just because it pleases you.”

“Pleases me?” His eyes widened, a nameless turmoil bubbling to life within them. “Little bird,” he hissed, “I have no choice.”

“You keep saying that,” you replied, “but you’re wrong. You’ve had choices this entire time. I’m the one without a choice! I’m the one stuck here, under you!”

He edged closer, tone like a knife. “There is no choice regarding your safety.”

“But people aren’t expendable!”

Kylo Ren pounced, cornering you, fist slamming the wall. “There was nothing to me but Gilead!” His voice was living death. “Now there is you.” His chin trembled, teeth bared. “And I will keep you alive at the expense of existence itself.”

You stared at him--looming over you, agonized anguish behind his gaze--remembering the man you’d seen the night before, the man whose eyes found you when you’d woken in the morning, the man who’d said your name. Then there was the masked monster pulling the lever, the machine who’d massacred his leader’s mansion, the Commander who’d deserted his duty. Kylo Ren was all of these men--and all of them had done all of it for you.

Swallowing, you dug into your cuticle, popping another twig of flesh free and tearing at it. “You disgust me.” You weren’t sure if you were speaking to him or yourself.

A long, slow breath left him, his chest deflating.

“The worst part of this is that I understand why you did it.”

He eased back, looking between you and your mangled thumb. “You do.”

“Yeah.”

You’d kept the Resistance at arm’s length, paying less than lip service, avoiding their inquiries, denying them information that could liberate not just you, but thousands. Even after he’d killed Poe. Your loyalty likely came at the expense of other lives you didn’t know. At the time, it felt like you didn’t have a choice. Who else was dying, now, because of your reluctance? You supposed if you hated him, you hated yourself, too.

“I guess I’m still just… you.”

You drove your nail into your leision, seeking more thin skin, blood smudging your fingers. Having done that, you flayed another layer, twitching as capillaries were rended raw. Kylo sat at the foot of your mattress, watching you work.

“You’re hurting yourself.”

You shrugged. “I could do worse.”

He caught your hand, pulling you from your self-mutilation, and examined it, rotating your wrist. Holding you in his gaze, he brought your bloody thumb to his mouth and pressed his lips to it, a salve of devotion--and then guided it inside, sealing it between his teeth. Your breath stalled, pulse paralyzed as he sucked, tongue sliding up and around the tender wound, cleaning the crimson new and old. Shivers scampered over you, and he purred in soft satisfaction, laving your sensitive pad, dragging his teeth over the knuckle before pulling it free.

“My bed is open to you.” He kissed your thumb again, his affection like anesthesia. “Come lie with me.”

“Lie with you.” The words withered in your throat. No, you didn’t hate yourself--you didn’t even hate him. But this game of hopeless passion had become too deadly, too personal. You were done playing. “I don’t want to.”

He blinked. “You don’t.”

Frowning, you met his eyes, and found a terrified tempest howling behind them. Your hands quaked; you remembered the wisp of him on your lips, dew drops of worship in your ear, the wholeness you’d felt in his embrace. It thrashed in your chest, luminous and blooming into your blood. And you would sooner dessicate your veins than admit it was there at all.

“No.” You tore your hand from him, cradling it to your chest. “I don’t.”

He didn’t move. His eye twitched. “Come.”

“No.” Staring at the wall, you steeled your jaw. “Just… go away. Leave me alone.”

Kylo Ren swallowed, fear a fog in his gaze. With rash-red lips, he murmured your name.

Heat rushed your spine. You shook your head. “Don’t call me that anymore.”

Silence. He shifted on the bed. “Please.”

You speared him with a glare. “Get out of my room, Commander.”

Kylo looked to your hand, still clutched to your heart, and to your face, searching for something in the quiet of the night. Then he stood, staring out into the yard, fingers tensing. After a moment without a word, he turned, opened the door, and disappeared into the hall.

You collapsed into bed, gaze chained to the ceiling. Without him, ache filtered back through your body, your thumb now throbbing in pain. Hot shame streaked through you. Eyes closed, you pressed it to your mouth, futilely trying to taste his lips.

[caterinawriting]

The Cost of a Legacy (8)

Summary : He sees her and she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, everything perfect. Well except the fact that they’re growing up during the revolutionary war. Their love will hit many hurdles and what the future has in store may not be what they planned.

Pairing : John Laurens x Reader

Words : 2,205

Authors note : So the start of this chapter is based around Lafayette, I can't speak French... So it'll be in English but imagine there speaking French. I also know nothing about how the French monarchy works so bare with me.

September 1776, France

One month before the engagement

“Next up is, ugh. Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier de Lafayette, Marquis de LaFayette.” He stood up making his way to the advisor’s office. “You know you think by now you'd stop putting your whole name. We know who you are and why you're here.” Lafayette scoffed, “Charles with a name like mine, it needs to be announced, my name is my father’s great name and his fathers. It would be disrespectful to my ancestors to not use it.”

Charles rolled his eyes and motioned for him to sit, “Lafayette, you know what I'm going to say, so why do you keep bothering?” Lafayette smirked, pulling out a couple of crumpled sheets, “Because this time I have recommendations, from great french generals saying I should help in the war effort.” Charles sighed, “The ‘American’ war effort, say it with me, AMERICAN.”

“I know, I know, but what those men are doing across the sea is unheard of. They're making history over there and I know I can help them.” The advisor took his recommendations and put them away in a cabinet, “I'll give this to the king to review, again. But as of right now the answer is still no, he says specifically you Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier de Lafayette, Marquis de LaFayette are too valuable to your country.” He read off a sheet before handing it to Lafayette. “Maybe next time friend.” He motioned for him to leave.

“Charles you know we're not friends.” And with that Lafayette exited the palace, tearing up the king's writing and dumping it on the lawn. Rejected five times, five times Lafayette has written essays explaining his reasoning. Five times he’s spoken with stupid Charles, five times he’s had to wait knowing his request would be rejected. Why couldn't he just sail off to the colonies, oh maybe because the king seized his ship after he attempted to sail himself to America.

He finally came up to the road that led down to his home, where his wife Maire was waiting for him. The other path led down to a local pub, where all his high-class friends could waste themselves. Yes, right now that's what he needed a nice cold drink to distract him from his crushed goals. He ran down the path, busting into the pub, “Lafa-Lafayette! Bud! Guys, look, it's the great Marquis de Lafayette! Come over pal.” He chuckled making his way down to his friend, Jacques.

“Buddy, how did it go? Are you leaving me yet?” Jacques frowned before throwing down another beer, “No, the King still hasn't authorized me to go, who knows if he ever will.” Defeated, he ordered a beer for himself. Jacques patted his back trying to comfort his friend, “I’m sorry mate, I know you want to fight. But who knows maybe the sixth time's a charm? Let me tell you something funny I heard today, I was on my way to the bank and some peasants were complaining about the famine again! They started blaming-” Jacques continued his story, Lafayette nodded along not truly listening. Really just stuck on one thought, what if he just went? No permission, no waiting just to go, of course, he'd have to stow away on a trade ship that would take a couple of months to get him to his destination. Too long, he needed to get there now he's waited too long.

“Thank you, good sir, please do let me know if you know of any suitors with these qualities. Hello gentleman may I bother you for a moment?” Lafayette turned to see a short man, obviously not native to France. “What can we do for you friend?” Jacques responded, turning to the man, Lafayette rolled his eyes returning to his drink, only wanting to listen to himself, drink more beer. “Well I'm here on behalf of my employer, he's in search of a gentleman to wed his daughter. She is nineteen years old and beautiful, elegant, and educated, he seeks a wealthy and honorable husband for her. Are either of you interested or know anyone who fits these qualities?” What is happening? What man sends a servant to find his daughter a bride? “I’m single, where does this girl live?” Jacques chuckled, “Well that is the issue, my boss is from the colonies, the new United States. He's providing his own transport on his vessel and will pay for all expenses in the new country until the two are wed.” Jacques laughed, ���Almost had me until you said Id have to move across the ocean, sorry pal were good-”

“This man you work for has his own vessel in France right now, ready to sail back to the states?” Lafayette asked the man, who nodded shocked at how interested the other man seemed now. “Yes it's all ready but anyone who does agree to this needs to be reviewed by me, just to make sure they're not lying about any of the requirements.” Lafayette smiled and took the man's hand and gave it a hard shake, “Sir I’m your candidate then, Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier de Lafayette, Marquis de LaFayette.” The man smiled pulling a pamphlet out of his satchel, “Well Monsieur Lafayette, thank you. Take this and please meet me here tomorrow with all that the sheet requires and if all goes well I'll have you on a ship to the United States by Friday!” They shook hands and said goodbye, the man leaving the pub.

“What just happened?” Jacques asked with shock all over his face. “My friend, I just got my ticket to the revolution.” Jacques did the only thing that came to his mind, he raised his hand and slapped his best friend. “Oh my, what was that for!?” Jacques grabbed his friend and pulled him out of the pub, “What is wrong with you? Are you really this desperate to fight that you're going to leave Marie for this?”

“I'm not leaving Maire, I have a plan.” Jacques laughed, “I don't think Marie wants to be a part of a harem.” Lafayette smacked his head, “No you idiot! I'm going to follow up with this man and agree to marry his boss's daughter, go to the colonies, and make a good impression on this girl and her father. And then I will enlist in the war, become a great officer and help win the war against the British, and then one day when I die I will be remembered by those I helped. Oh and after that, I'll just disappear back to France, to my loving wife and best friend.”

“I have zero words, except that you are insane.” Jacques turned away and began making his way home, “It'll work out, you'll see... Goodnight friend!” Jacques waved, not bothering to respond.

---

“Marquis! Marquis stop what is going on?” Maire confused followed her husband around their home as he packed his belongings. “It's happening Maire, it's really happening. I'm going to war!” His tone celebratory as he continued packing his wife right behind him, “The king approved of you? I thought he said you needed to stay?”

“No, he didn't.” Still packing, “Well why are you packing then? Marquis stop and talk to me.” He sighed continuing, “I don't have time to stop, I leave tonight.” Marie stopped hovering, “Husband, please. Talk to me, I don't understand Marquis please.” She begged to block his way, in front of his dreams. “I found a way to fight, there's a man who's going to help me get to the states. The king won’t let me go, so I'm improving myself. I need to go.” He stated going around her, he was going to leave tonight. “If the king said you can't then you won't, this could be treason! Marquis, you will not go.”

“My mind is made up, Marie you are my wife, you swore to support me when we wed. So support me and my choices.” Marie shook with anger, “You swore to be with me for the rest of our lives, so if you go I'm coming.” He sighed, here comes the truth, “You can't come.”

“Why? Why can't I come?” He sat down on their bed, “I need you to hear me before you speak again because this will sound terrible, and I understand if you don't agree with what I'm doing, but nothing can change my mind. The man who is helping me get to the colonies made a deal with me. He's looking for a groom for his daughter, and I volunteered, it's not what it seems though. I will not marry this girl or kiss her or anything that would break our bond. I'm doing this because it's my destiny to fight and I will do what it takes to complete it.” He looked up at his wife, who was as expected shocked.

After a couple of moments of silence, she spoke, “What if you at the end of the war want to marry her? Our marriage is only legal in France, you could remarry and never come back to me.” He shook his head and approached his wife, “No, I will come back to you, god is my witness that I Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier de Lafayette, Marquis de LaFayette will come back to you my wife Marie Adrienne Françoise de Noailles, Marquis de La Fayette.” She smiled hugging him. “My father will never forgive you.” He laughed, “I don't need his forgiveness all I ask is that while I'm gone you find it in your heart to forgive me.” She nodded, “When this war is over I want you to come back to me immediately okay?”

“Yes mam”

---

October 1776

After the engagement

Fiance? Has any woman ever been engaged to two men at the same time? Juliet- no she was married and engaged at the same time. Well then, (Y/n) was the first she knew of.

“I know princess I should have said something in my letter, but I wanted it to be a surprise. I have found you the best husband.” Still shocked she only nodded, still staring at her father confused, “She's just speechless, Monsieur Lafayette.” He nodded, “I'll just take her bags inside then.” Lafayette sensing tension grabbed her bags and ran into the home.

“Come on sweetheart, let's get you to bed the journey must have been exhausting.” (Y/n) still shocked didn't move, her father sighed and carried her inside up to her old room and placed her in her bed, “I know it's a lot to take in, but I want you to talk to him and give him a chance. He's perfect for what this family needs right now, he's high class, rich, and well educated, he could get us back on top of New York and help fix the business. He's the key to fixing this family… Just give him a chance.” He tucked her in and kissed her forehead, leaving her alone in her room.

Give him a chance.

He's the key to fixing this family.

Give him a chance?

He's the key.

Give him a chance… What is she going to do?

---

“Bonjour Mademoiselle, did you sleep well?” Oh gosh, it wasn't a dream. She took a deep breath, time to be clear and brave. “Is my father home?’ He shook his head, “No he had early business to deal with, told me to tell you to get to know me.” He smiled cheekily, she forced a laugh. “Have you had breakfast yet?” He shook his head again, “No (Y/n) I was waiting for to wake so we could eat together.” She smiled heading to the dining room, where he pulled the chair out for her before sitting. “My father was right, you are a gentleman.”

“Well, I was raised in a high-class french family, if I didn't wait for you or pull your chair out my nana would die all over again.” She laughed, immediately covering her mouth, “I'm sorry, please forgive me that I was improper, to laugh at.” He laughed, “Don't worry (Y/n) I don't mind, I like those who appreciate my sense of humor.” She gave a small smile, realizing he was flirting with her, they sat in silence as the maid served them their food and retreated out the dining room.

“Lafayette, I have a secret to tell you. It will ruin all my father’s plans and yours but I can't let this drag longer than it needs to. I can’t marry you, I'm already engaged.” She quickly said, pulling out her necklace as proof.

“Oh thank King Louis this is perfect!” He proclaimed standing up and hugging the girl. “That is not the reaction I expected.” She said hugging him back. “I know, and I will explain. Is there somewhere we can go? Where no one will hear us?” She nodded, both of them standing, “Yes I have a spot, well used to but it should be fine.”

“Okay let's go and I’ll explain to you why I'm so happy you can't marry me!” He laughed, “And bring those finger sandwiches!”

“Okay!”

—-

Not edited

I’m dying of sleep exhaustion

Have a good night hope you enjoy

[dreamcatcherfication]

The Truest Kind of Love

Oh boy. Oh boy oh boy oh boy. I’m extremely nervous about this. But... why not. This is an original work I wrote for one of my classes and it’s historical fiction, so since I have nothing to post, I thought why not give it a shot. It’s not a great story or anything, but I hope it’ll keep you all entertained! Formatting might be a little strange, but that’s what happens when you translate an entire short story onto tumblr. This is pretty much only for my followers since it’s original, but if you have no idea who I am and someone find this, I hope you enjoy my meager writing abilities!

This fic is set during the Spanish Inquisition, and I did a lot of research on the time period. There are a lot of plot holes that bother me if you really look into the history of everything, but some of them can’t be avoided when you erase an entire historical figure from history and replace her with someone else. But I won’t spoil anything, so please have this absolute trainwreck of a story.

(I’m not tagging anyone on my usual tag list because I figure this isn’t what any of you signed up for, and I won’t tag you unless you want me to!)

Trigger Warnings: Burning, Death, Anti-Semitism, implied abuse, references to torture

Queen Valencia and her husband, King Ferdinand II, were well known throughout Spain for being harsh and unforgiving rulers, the sort that would torture a man under suspicion of even the smallest of crimes. The two governed their people strictly and (although no one would speak this for fear of being killed) very cruelly. 

King Ferdinand was exhausting his time dealing with the Spanish Inquisition and the Jews that refused to accept the Catholic faith. Everyday, homes were burnt and heretics were tortured and killed for practicing their own faith. He had gotten so paranoid that the non-Catholics were to blame for the terrible plague sweeping the nation that even the Conversos, Jews who had converted to the Catholic religion, were suspected of treason to the crown.

No one in the Royal Court had ever said it aloud, but it was well known that the queen and king were not in love. They often disagreed on anything from trivial to political matters, creating a distinct rift in their relationship. King Ferdinand was a pious man who wished to keep flushing out the heretics while Queen Valencia sympathized with the Jews who were being forced to give up their religion. “You are a devout Catholic. What if the Jews were to make you practice their religion? Would you do to them as they would do to you?”

King Ferdinand would continue to look past her point and respond with, “They have already done it once before to our savior Jesus Christ, we cannot allow them to do it again. We must purge them before they can force their heresy unto us. It is for the best my wife.” Him being the king, she would huff and relent, going along with what he decreed.

Life in the palace was lavish and required many servants to attend to the queen. Her previous servant had been accused of heresy - unjustly - which required that a new personal servant be summoned for the Queen. Valencia was standing in front of her mirror in her private chambers dressed in her undergarments, waiting for her servant to arrive. The lady in waiting was already late, but Valencia had become a patient woman after having to deal with King Ferdinand on the daily. 

When the girl finally arrived she had her head down and mumbled softly, “I apologize for being late Your Majesty, the nobles asked me to fetch them fruit and I could not refuse. Please accept my humble apologies.” The servant girl kneeled down in front of Valencia and bent her head in what the queen supposed must have been a very uncomfortable position.

“Rise my dear girl, what shall I call you?” Valencia asked the girl.

Perking up, the girl rose and started to say, “Oh my name is -” but instead let out an unattractive screech as she tripped over the trail of her queen’s dress. She ended up sprawled on the floor glancing awkwardly up at the royal who was hiding a laugh behind her hand. 

It was at that moment when they made eye contact for the first time that Valencia knew this girl would be immensely important to her. 

***

“Alessandra!” Queen Valencia called from her spot at the side of the empty dining table. King Ferdinand was discussing more Inquisition plans with his advisors, leaving her to eat her feast alone. Still, it was proper etiquette to leave the head of the table open for the absent king. The servant girl hurried forward from where she had been waiting by a pillar for instruction. When she reached the queen’s side she straightened up with her hands dutifully behind her back. The queen turned to the other servants scattered throughout the room and ordered, “Leave us.” 

Without another word, the other servants filed out of the room and shut the intimidating wooden door behind them. Now, the only two people in the room were young Alessandra and the queen herself. “Sit with me please,” Valencia said gently. Instead of a typical order, it was a request, and a simple one at that.

Listening, the young girl sat next to her. “Is there anything you wish of me, Your Majesty?”

Grinning and rolling her eyes, Valencia let her posture relax as she leaned back against the chair. “Yes, I wish for you to stop referring to me as Your Majesty when we are in private. You see me undressed day after day, you know well and true that I am no heavenly deity. I am as human as you are flesh and bone.” 

The young girl anxiously tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and giggled lightly. Alessandra was a short and petite girl complimented with a sweet face that made Valencia’s maternal instincts flare up whenever she was near her servant. “It is a pleasure to be able to work for someone as wonderful as you,” the small servant spoke almost reverently. Valencia’s heart clenched to know how much the girl looked up to her, unaware of the terrible things she was allowing King Ferdinand to do to her people. 

“Tell me dear, how did you get a job in the Royal Court?” Queen Valencia asked.

“Oh, well that’s an easy one!” Alessandra said gleefully. “See I’m not too bright, but my father is an old acquaintance of the king’s High Inquisitor - uhm… Inquisitor Lucero! Yes, him. And my mother was a servant before she died, so it only made sense for me to follow in her footsteps.” Valencia’s breathing hitched when she heard Alessandra’s words. Her mother was dead? Looking down at the bright-eyed servant, all Valencia could see was a lonely child seated before her. As a response, she tried to create a more approachable air around herself and slid her chair closer to the girl. If Alessandra didn’t have a mother, then Valencia would be damned if she didn’t at least help the girl feel safe and cared for.

“When the king was searching for your newest lady in waiting,” Alessandra continued, “my father offered my services. And now I have the honor of humbling myself before you everyday.”

“No no, you do not have to humble yourself dear girl, I’ve told you this,” Valencia corrected her. Her first step would have to be making sure Alessandra knew she was not obligated to bow down to Valencia in private. Nodding again, Alessandra silenced herself. Queen Valencia was angered with Alessandra’s father for essentially auctioning his daughter off without the poor girl knowing any better. But another, smaller part of her whispered that she was glad that Alessandra was her servant, for it allowed her to have these small moments that she treasured so dearly with the young girl.

And so she spoke nothing to the king of the way he selected servants for his wife.

***

Alessandra was loyal if nothing else, and she cared greatly for Queen Valencia. She was willing to do anything for her queen, even give up her own life if her queen so desired. It scared Valencia to know how deep the girl’s blind devotion ran, but her selfishness kept her from saying anything. The queen had been unable to give Ferdinand an heir, but the king was more concerned with political matters to focus on his wife’s infertility at the time. Valencia’s servant gave her the opportunity to care for a young girl as a mother would her child.

And though she had never told Ferdinand, Valencia was glad she could not produce his heir. She refused to let him infect her son or daughter with his views of the Jewish people, of even the most loyal Conversos. Her people.

Valencia hated to think that she lied during her daily prayers with Ferdinand. But her truth was that she did in fact lie when a priest would bless her and say that she was faithful to their God. Every night Valencia would return to her private chambers and dismiss Alessandra before pulling out her Torah and praying to her God. Hiding herself from the king and her country held a tax on her very soul and being every passing day. But Valencia’s faith was more important to her than anything, and if she had to repent every night for lying, she would. 

As any one night, she found herself praying as normal, asking God for forgiveness at deceiving her husband. That she was trying to follow His word while keeping His religion alive. Kneeling beneath her mirror, Valencia was muttering holy prayers and pleading to her God. “Oh Lord Almighty, send me a diamond to cut through all the dirt my husband has heaped upon your holy word.”

As if God could hear her, Valencia’s door opened at that moment as her young servant girl walked in. “Queen Valencia, I’ve come to - oh!” Alessandra gasped in surprise at seeing her queen kneeling on the floor with Jewish scrolls spread in front of her. “Is that - oh my -” the servant girl gasped in surprise. “I should go and inform-”

Standing up in a hurry, Valencia shouted, “No!” Freezing in place, Alessandra waited for another instruction from her queen. She knew it was the king’s order to report anyone following a non-Catholic religion, but her loyalty to the queen outweighed any order the king could ever give. “Alessandra, please forget what you have seen here,” Queen Valencia attempted to cover her tracks. She trusted her servant, but the reality of being discovered was something she had feared her entire life.

“My queen, I will not report you if that is what you fear. It is my job to serve you, and if that means allowing you to follow your own religion, that is what I shall do,” Alessandra said obediently. Looking at her servant with surprise, Valencia found herself unconsciously relieved.

The older woman held her arms out and waited for the child to take the hint. After a moment of confused staring, Alessandra realized what Valencia was meaning for her to do, and she threw herself into her queen’s open arms. They sat together far into the night, the young girl wrapped in the protective arms of the queen. She rested her head against Valencia’s bosom, listening to her light breathing. It was a feeling she had missed ever since her mother had died, the safety and comfort of another, truly caring person in her life. She wouldn’t dare think it, but Alessandra looked up to Valencia as more than just her queen, and that was dangerous. The young lady in waiting couldn’t bring herself to worry about any possible repercussions while being held by Valencia.

Unawares to Alessandra, Valencia was having her own thoughts. Without children, she couldn’t release the pent up maternal instinct ingrained deep in her very being. But having Alessandra by her side made Valencia’s heart feel as if the strongest rope was ripping it in half. In that moment, it felt like the two of them were meant to be together, as if fate itself had twisted time and space so that they could meet. If it were not for status, the queen feared she would never release Alessandra from her arms. The thought of having to let the girl go was something Valencia refused to entertain. The mere notion was enough to cause her more agony than what her heart already inflicted upon her. With such a large gap in social class, it was unusual for royals to have such a close relationship with their servants, but Valencia couldn’t help but feel the intense need to protect Alessandra.

She could not predict how strong this need would be in her servant.

***

“It’s alright, I’d rather me than you, Valencia,” Alessandra assured whilst two guards held her arms tightly behind her back.

The guard on her left smacked her harshly over the head. “You shall refer to her as Your Majesty or My Queen, heretic.”

Shaking her head softly in pain, Alessandra returned her attention to Valencia. Even as the guards were leading her to the dungeons where she would be held before her execution, she still had a smile on her face. Valencia was distraught at seeing the girl she cared so much for in the hands of the king’s soldiers. The men had been searching the palace when they found her beloved Torah hidden within her bedchambers. The moment Alessandra got word that the king suspected the queen of heresy, she claimed that she was the heretic and claimed the scrolls as her own.

A chill tickled its way through Valencia’s bones, knowing of how the king must have immediately sentenced the young child to death by fire simply because he believed she was of another religion. And as much as Valencia wished she could take Alessandra’s place, she knew it would do no good to admit the truth. The girl would still be executed and so would she, ruining Alessandra’s sacrifice. 

The young girl was led to a dungeon cell and tossed in by the guards. They locked the door and left her alone until they were to come to retrieve her for her execution the next day. Following the guards down, Valencia stood outside the cell door and glanced down at the child she had grown close to. “Why?” she asked quietly.

Alessandra shrugged with her infuriating smile still plastered on her face. “I could not let them hurt you Valencia. Besides, you can get another servant.”

Valencia laughed humorlessly and ruefully banged a fist against the bars of the cell. “I could never replace you Alessandra.” 

“I’ll miss you,” Alessandra said simply.

“You know I love you,” the older woman admitted quietly, as if it was taboo.

“I love you too.”

***

Queen Valencia was forced to stand next to her husband as her servant was tied to a stake in the center of the palace courtyard. King Ferdinand stood regal and tall, observing the work of his executioners, noting which ones worked quicker and those slower than the rest. He didn’t pay a second glance to the girl being strung up, more concerned with the efficiency of his men as they prepared for the execution. In some sick sense of mercy there would be no drawn out torture, only the girl’s sentence of death by fire.

The servant girl did not resist the tight grips of the men who spit at her as they lead her to her death. It confused the inquisitors when she only smiled, barely glancing at their hateful faces. Instead, her attention was directed to the woman standing on the balcony of the palace above her. The queen was struggling to make eye contact with the servant. Her head was far too heavy to lift and face the small girl and her innocent doe eyes.

Even as the men finished tying her to the stake, Alessandra paid no mind to her rapidly approaching death. She kept grinning fondly at the woman she had grown to love in her time at the palace. She didn’t feel an ounce of regret dying for Valencia.

King Ferdinand wrapped an arm around his wife, but she refused to acknowledge it. Valencia lifted her head, finally willing to make eye contact with Alessandra. It was like a hot poker to the heart, being reminded of why she cared so much for this girl. She knew she would grow to care for her servant the first time she had seen the girl’s eyes. Only now, looking into those eyes for the last time did Valencia truly understand the extent of her love for this girl.

Alessandra was the child she did not have, stronger than blood could carry. It didn’t matter that the girl was of another breed, it mattered how she gave Valencia a reason to move through everyday as she lived a life of lying to those around her. And if God would grant her one wish, she would wish to be able to embrace Alessandra one last time before they were forced to part ways.

One of the inquisitors took a torch and held it to the straw spread around the bottom of the stake. The young girl only shook her head and tried to smile reassuringly when a tear slid down the older woman’s face. Alessandra mouthed something from below that Valencia could not make out, no matter how hard she tried to decipher what the girl had said. She watched as the flames grew higher and Alessandra’s smile started to disappear, replaced with coughing and wails of pain. Valencia closed her eyes tight and turned away from the fire, too distraught to watch the execution.

But she listened as her daughter burned.

-----------------------------------------------------

Tag List:

@theatergirl06 @sweetestrequiems

[chubbyooo]

The Road to Redemption - A Blurred Lines Spinoff Chapter 8: The Battle of Odessen

wow this is another long boi these remaining three are gonna be intense Vaylin attacks Odessen and Kavaraa has to break her cover

Kavaraa hadn’t had contact with anyone since sending Arcann into the party, she at least knew he was alive, Nox had seemed to forgive him much to her surprise. Since then she had just been monitoring things she wasn’t sure what Theron was up to, she’d only got a one word message of Nathema. She assumed she wasn’t supposed to go otherwise there would be no need for discretion but she was beginning to get anxious as she paced around the ship.

Suddenly Arcann’s emergency comm blinked and Kavaraa rushed over “Arcann?” she said surprised “this is only for emergencies what’s going on?” Arcann came onto the screen she could hear explosions behind him

Arcann stammered “the fleet it’s attacking Odessen, this may be it Vaylin doesn’t want to wait” Kavaraa gasped this was too early how could she help “the commander and her advisors aren’t back yet we need help” Kavaraa nodded plotting in the hyperspace coordinates

Kavaraa tried to calm herself “I can help coordinate the battle with something Master Satele taught me” Arcann nodded as Kavaraa entered hyperspace and turned on the stealth field

She had been near Odessen just in case so soon she dropped back out and was met with the whole fleet bearing down on the planet “Arcann protect the forces on the ground I’ll handle the forces from space” he nodded shutting off the comm. Kavaraa tried to let all the worry she felt go and sat down and concentrated she had to use her battle meditation right now, she focussed on the ships taking off from Odessen doing her best to improve their formations and cripple the Eternal Fleet this was going to be a long battle…

Kyradia’s ship dropped into the system as she saw the fleet damn it she thought she’d have at least a little time “Odessen status report” she could feel an intense force energy over the battlefield this moment could have catastrophic consequences

Hylo came through the comms “Vaylin caught us with our britches down, still installing the new upgrades going to take a couple minutes before we’re in the air” Kyradia gritted her teeth and now Vaylin was free of her conditioning she had to be careful

Theron spoke up “you and Lana lead the charge, I’ll do more damage behind enemy lines” Kyradia nodded as they brought the ship down…

Kavaraa heard her comm go off as Theron patched himself through “Kavaraa it-” Kavaraa interrupted him time was of the essence 

Kavaraa responded “I know Theron I’m here I’m using my Battle meditation to coordinate the battle” Kavaraa had never done this before but it seemed to be working

Theron gasped “but Kavaraa you’ve never used that before not even Master Satele fully understood it” it was true this was a big risk

Kavaraa dismissed it “if it saves the alliance it’s worth it let me the reckless one for once sweetie” she blushed when she realised that came out

Theron seemed flustered “um ok sure but I’m gonna be on the comms with you the whole time ok?” that seemed fair and it’d help them both feel safer

Kavaraa nodded “sure sounds good now help Nox gain control” Theron and her had quite the job ahead of him…

Kyradia and Lana ran through the rubble making their way up to the base “I’m not letting Vaylin escape again Lana she’s more dangerous than ever” they ran past blaster fire as the battle raged overhead

Lana nodded “we have to stop her here I agree but don’t let her get in your head Kyradia” Kyradia scoffed she was well versed in people trying to get in her head

Kyradia’s comm buzzed and Hylo spoke “enemy forces breached the defences they’re going for the gravestone” Kyradia snarled they couldn’t take their ace in the hole

Her comm changed showing Arcann “Senya and I are close we won’t let them take the ship” Kyradia felt her rage build what was she doing out of her cell

The comm cut off before she could ask “what the hell is Senya doing out of her cell!” she threw rocks across the canyon towards some of Vaylin’s troops in anger

Lana shook her head “it doesn’t matter right now Kyradia, right now she’s just one extra ally so exercise restraint” Kyradia didn’t agree but didn’t have time to argue as they charged towards the gravestone

Kyradia saw as Senya and Arcann defended against ten Knights of Zakuul they worked in fluid motion as they took out five but soon they saw more were on the way, Kyradia looked straight at Senya to build up the anger as she let out a chain of lightning blasts slamming the remaining knights into the wall as Lana sliced into the reinforcements.

Kyradia dashed forward throwing her saber out cutting through the remaining reinforcements alive she slid towards the Tiralls and stabbed the last remaining knight, Arcann breathed a sigh of relief “I don’t think we could’ve held out much longer” Kyradia shot daggers at Senya

Senya spoke “I should’ve known Vaylin would attack Odessen” Kyradia simmered as she looked between them

Kyradia folded her arms “why is she out of her cell?” Arcann seemed to have little to no reaction

Senya scoffed “I’m helping you Kyradia I’m on your side I promise let your personal grudge go for a second, you let my son live and for that I’m forever grateful” Kyradia walked up to her

She growled “I didn’t do it for you Senya I’m not like your precious daughter I play smart not emotional” Senya wasn’t intimidated standing tall

Senya nodded “no you’re not the same Vaylin is broken without the means to repair whereas you still have a chance you have people willing to sacrifice for you but she doesn’t, I know she may not make it out of today alive but can you at least try to get through to her” Kyradia scoffed and turned away not giving an answer she didn’t care about their family trauma

Arcann sighed “either way we will not let Odessen fall to her you have my word” Kyradia nodded they better not betray her again 

Kyradia turned to Senya “I will let you help but if you even show a sign of running off with Vaylin then so help me god I will stick my saber right through your beating heart” Senya finally looked a little rattled Arcann also looking uncomfortable “but let’s hope it doesn’t come to that” Kyradia said before turning back around to see the Gravestone rise out of the ground and up into the air

Arcann shook his head “the gravestone alone wont turn this battle. Vaylin is releasing the full force of the eternal empire on Odessen” Kyradia could agree there she had to cut the head off

Senya nodded “conquest isn’t enough for her she seeks to personally annihilate us, for her this is personal” it was definitely personal but she wouldn’t let it go any further

Kyradia folded her arms “then let us use that personal rage against her” sith and rage type force users tended to be easy to manipulate

Arcann nodded “If you lure her down to the surface, you can confront her face to face” Kyradia nodded that sounded ideal

Kyradia smiled “then I’ll make my way to the front lines Lana go and find Theron and help him” she looked to the Tiralls “you two come with me it’ll have greater impact this way” they both looked a little unsettled by Kyradia’s smile but agreed

Kyradia ran forwards with the Tiralls as they made their way through the battlefield Skytrooper flying left and right as she slashed through them towards the comms station, she Senya and Arcann made a good team so there was at least that even if she hated one of them. 

Soon they arrived at the comms and patched through to Vaylin who snarled at her “father’s pet I was just talking about you” Kyradia hated the idea Valkorion controlled any of her actions 

Kyradia raised her eyebrow “how many more of your underlings do I have to kill before you come down here and give me a real challenge” she winked at Vaylin a devious smile across her face

Vaylin was only made angrier “oh I intend to puppet” Kyradia twitched under the nickname Vaylin had started to call her “now that I’ve broken father’s chains I could crush you in a second-but that’s too easy” Kyradia smiled she knew nothing of her true power “I will chew up your friends and grind you precious alliance into paste, when I finally hunt you down you will beg me to end your suffering” Kyradia could feel her rage building

She chuckled “please you think you can scare me Vaylin you are nothing compared to what I’ve seen just a scared little girl throwing a tantrum” that clearly struck a chord as Vaylin began to throw a tantrum before the comm shut off

Kyradia smiled “I believe I’ve proved my point” she expected Arcann to speak but someone else did instead

Valkorion’s echoed voice rung out “my daughter has taken your bait” Kyradia gritted her teeth “now end this and take her place” Kyradia didn’t say a word just quietly seething

Arcann folded his arms “Vaylin will arrive soon we need to get in position” Kyradia nodded as she began to focus

Kyradia smiled “make your way to the base I’m going to take a shortcut” Kyradia focussed all her power and began to slowly phantom stride up the structure, within a couple minutes she’d reached the foot of the base if only she could do that in one go. She saw a squadron of skytroopers ahead and let out a bolt of electricity that coursed through each of them as she ran past into the elevator.

She patched her comm through to Theron “Theron where are you?” she swore she heard something else on the comm

Theron seemed flustered when he responded “uh ah I’m pushing back Vaylin’s forces with Lana” Kyradia heard a sound like someone disconnecting from the comm suddenly

Kyradia felt her rage build “THERON” she felt her rage peak “who the fuck was that” Theron seemed to stammer even more but soon calmed himself

He responded cooly “it was the Basen’thor apparently when she heard there was an attack she came to help she’s been using battle meditation to turn the tide of the battle that’s why we’re not losing” Kyradia really wanted to be angry but that was a really good idea

Kyradia scoffed “ugh damn it we’ll talk about thi-” she was going to finish but as she did the door opened and she was thrown out onto the edge of the balcony as Vaylin laughed

Vaylin strolled up to her “pathetic what did father ever see in you, did he really think you could steal my throne” Kyradia struggled to keep her grip

Before Kyradia could speak Valkorion’s ghostly form appeared behind Vaylin “you are not worthy of the throne, you are not fit to rule the eternal empire” Kyradia could feel her rage building saved by Valkorion please no

Vaylin snarled “I’m more worthy than your new puppet” Kyradia could feel her grip loosening 

Valkorion shook his head “neither of you were ever worthy but it doesn’t matter now, there is only one way to stop Vaylin you know what you must do” Kyradia felt her anger boil as she jumped up landing behind Vaylin

Vaylin laughed “any last words before I end your miserable life” Kyradia drew her saber with a snarl

Kyradia was ready “you will never be satisfied with your revenge and it’ll destroy you hag” with that she lunged at Vaylin this was it time to school this little empress...

https://open.spotify.com/track/3tI114qzJyZYctfLPonBeG?si=CY2mQCM7SGKrAni1wsJuUg

Their blades clashed again as the sound of blaster fire surrounded them Vaylin pushed her back with the force throwing stab after stab at Kyradia who effortlessly blocked each one, Kyradia ran forwards and instead of going to slash concentrated with the force pushing her saber out her hand before tackling her to the ground. Vaylin scratched at her as Kyradia went to stab her but she managed to roll out the way of every one before she punched Kyradia in the stomach with a resounding crack. 

Vaylin reached for her saber which quickly shot to her hand and went to stab at Kyradia, Kyradia saw it and jumped back towards the lift. Kyradia noticed as Arcann and Senya ran into the chamber along with a number of knights of Zakuul engaged in their own fight. 

But Vaylin saw them too “NO this is between me and you” she threw Kyradia back against the wall of the lift and ran in lifting it unnaturally with the force, Kyradia struggled in the intense grip as Vaylin focussed on lifting the lift as far as it would go.

Kyradia spat at Vaylin “you can’t win Vaylin you’re playing right into his hand break the cycle” Vaylin ignored the comment as they reached the top and Vaylin rolled back onto the Balcony at the top of the base.

Kyradia sprinted forwards their blades clashing again as they made their way out into the open air, Vaylin headbutted Kyradia and then responded “the cycle hah you act like you have any control you know he’s five steps ahead of you at least my chaos isn’t what he wants” Kyradia stumbled back barely blocking Vaylin’s strikes as they reached the edge of the balcony

Vaylin pushed her back against it, she could see the intense drop the ground full of debris and soldiers, Kyradia held the blade against hers not letting her gain any headway “your chaos is pointless and damaging, control is important and you lack it more than anyone I’ve ever seen” Kyradia pushed her back dodging as she went for another strike

Vaylin stumbled nearly collapsing over the edge “talk to me about control yeah I can sense it in you, it’s the same unhinged feeling you’re no better than me” oh well she was going to go there

Kyradia growled “ok you wanna see me lose control” Kyradia’s eyes flashed as a green mist emanated off her “be careful what you wish for bitch” she felt the primal instincts take over as she let off a number of quick and successive strikes that Vaylin couldn’t keep up with

For the first time in the fight Vaylin looked worried as she was hit with strike after strike pushing her closer to the edge, her defense was waning each time until Kyradia made a successful slice on her shoulder causing her to stumble back and tumble over the balcony

Kyradia wasn’t letting that stop her, she jumped after Vaylin as they fell she grabbed hold of her ripping the saber out of her hand, Vaylin snarled at her and gave her a vicious right hand. Kyradia kept hold of her, shoving her elbow into her side causing a crunching of bones, the ground was fastly approaching and Vaylin had noticed concentrating with the force and pushing them outwards onto a large starfighter passing by.

They rolled across it Kyradia nearly tumbling off the side before she stood up her voice deeper and echoed “you learn your lesson yet girl” Vaylin’s demeanour had changed she stood up ready to defend against Kyradia as the starfighter flew through the battle

Kyradia had to take advantage; she didn’t have her saber now was the time, she dashed towards her but Vaylin had been concentrating, she jumped upwards landing on an eternal fleet ship close to the ground. Kyradia wouldn’t let her escape though jumping up and landing behind her but it was too late Vaylin’s saber snapped to her hand and she swung around slicing at Kyradia’s legs a sufficient burn across them causing her to buckle and lose some of her primal rage 

Vaylin cackled to herself “wow what an offense but it appears you left your brain at the door when you did th-” before Vaylin could finish Kyradia tackled her to the ground pinning her down and smiled

She growled “I wouldn’t be so sure” she focussed her force lightning as is coursed through her and the rest of the ship, she heard as its engine exploded and the ship began to fall from the sky

Vaylin kicked her in the stomach throwing her back against the hull of the ship, they both were covered in bruises and cuts as Vaylin strode towards her “aghhh you bitch you can’t stop me” she held her saber out as Kyradia stood but before either of them could do anything the ship crashed into the side of the Odessen hills sending them both flying into the forest…

Kavaraa smiled as the tide of the battle was changing but she couldn’t get a lock on Nox and Vaylin “Theron status update?” she had taken control to a new level since Kyradia had realised it was her

Lana actually came through the comms “the fleet is beginning to make more and more mistakes their formation is broken and their troops are depleting” Kavaraa didn’t know what to say to Lana

Kavaraa nodded “um hey Lana sorry we kept this from yo-” Lana interrupted her

She sighed “you think I didn’t know Theron would go off and then you or Arcann would turn up I’m not blind” Kavaraa had to admit she wasn’t so surprised Lana had figured it out “and I thought it was also in the best interests of the alliance so I let it continue” Kavaraa didn’t know what to say 

Kavaraa stammered “oh well thank you for trusting me, I can’t find Nox or Vaylin do you know where they are” Kavaraa noticed a flashing light on her screen what was that 

Lana responded “last I know they were in the base but since then I haven’t been able to find them either” Kavaraa was worried about them Nox needed to win. She looked at the flashing light and gasped, that was the alarm for the Wraths Prison cell they might have another problem…

Kyradia slammed to the ground deep in the Odessen forest trying to get to her feet panting, Vaylin was in a similar situation across the clearing she stumbled to her feet. “I’m not going to give in Kyradia you can’t stop me” Kyradia stumbled up breathing heavily a strong taste of iron in her mouth.

She shook her head “your mother told me something” she laughed “I can’t believe I’m going to do this, she said we weren’t so different and she was right you’ve seen my pain and I know yours people twisted us for their means and we’ve let it fuel us for years” she limped towards Vaylin

Vaylin snarled “don’t you dare try to appeal to me Puppet! You took everything I had left from me” Vaylin stumbled forward her saber still out

Kyradia shook her head “oh believe me I wouldn't dream of it but I know he’s up to something we both do, not to sound like a Jedi but let’s break the cycle and stop Valkorion from beating us then we can kill each other” Vaylin frowned her guard dropping just a little Kyradia felt cheap trying this but it could lower her guard just enough

Vaylin took a deep breath “it would be good to stick it to him” Kyradia held out her arm but focussed ready to stride “I have to say for a puppet you put up a good fight and it’s clear you understand” she reached out with her hand “but you’re standing in my way” she snarled as she went to stab Kyradia but Kyradia had always been expecting that and phantom strode behind he driving her saber through her back

Vaylin shrieked out in pain as she stumbled forward “you bitch you never intended to help me” Kyradia frowned at her as she stumbled to the ground

Kyradia shook her head “and you had no intention of joining me I guess we really are the same” Kyradia couldn’t gloat for too long

She heard the ghostly voice in her ear “this isn’t over even now my daughter is still a threat” Kyradia snarled at Valkorion as if she didn’t know that 

Vaylin chuckled “oh father you know me so well” a huge explosion of force energy emanated from her causing Kyradia to stumble back the trees around them began to snap and fall

Valkorion shook his head “I have no power over Vaylin, only you are strong enough to stop this” Kyradia was pushed back against the tree but slowly walked towards Vaylin through the force energy

Vaylin almost seemed to plead “the eternal throne is mine you can’t take this from me, it’s mine” Kyradia held her saber out and once she was close enough she swung it forward through Vaylin, she screamed out the force energy exploding around her before she fell to the ground

Kyradia rushed over to Vaylin “shhhh shhh don’t worry the voices will stop now, you can rest” she smiled at Vaylin cradling her as she died, she at least deserved to not die alone.

Vaylin spat blood out at her “no wonder father picked you, you can’t see it even when it was right in front of you fool” Kyradia wiped it off her face as Vaylin fell limp in her arms

Valkorion stood behind her “it’s time you took the throne Kyradia” Kyradia felt all her anger build up inside her turning to Valkorion

She attempted to punch him but of course it didn’t work “not even one second of mourning for your dead child you really are the worst piece of shit in the galaxy” Valkorion dismissed the comment “you broke her and you’re not even sorry listen well and listen good I will destroy you Valkorion I am not your puppet” Valkorion nodded and looked up to the fleet as it started to bomb the entire galaxy

Valkorion snarled at her “you will take the throne or everyone you ever cared about will die you are my puppet now do it” Kyradia screed out in rage trying to hit him with anything

Kyradia shook her head “I don’t care about them if I beat you” Valkorion chuckled to himself 

He tutted “I know you care about a select few right now the planet of Voss is being bombed and an old apprentice of yours is there, sit on the throne or she dies along with all your other friends” Kyradia’s eyes widened no he couldn’t have found them what could she do, he disappeared from sight laughing

Kyradia shouted into the darkness “I will stop you! You do not control me” his laugh echoed as she was left with a difficult decision let those she cared about die or play right into his hands...

[squishydoesstuff]

@yuchan-gunhakwonwoo-jibeom It’s done!!This was sooo fun. I definitely could continue this for a few more parts as well! I hope you like it 😊

Word count : 794

“Luna,” an alarmed voice echoed down the hallway to the large throne room. “Luna! Luna, where are you?!” The sound of running footsteps grew closer as Luna turned from her assigned guard toward the door.

The door of the throne room slammed open as Luna’s advisor ran inside, obviously terrified. “Luna, thank god!” The young advisor then noticed Luna’s guard next to her and straightened up quickly, “My apologies for barging in so suddenly, your highness.” They spun to the guards by the door, “Close the doors and barricade them.” They were visibly surprised by Luna’s aid yelling to them to barricade the doors.

“Slow down, Artemisia.” Luna spoke softly. “What’s going on?” Luna had never seen her advisor this frazzled in all the years they had been by her side, even when they became friends.

“You’re in danger, we need to get you out now.” Artemisia urgently spoke, before turning sharply to the guard next to Luna. “Forgive my lack of formalities but I think that can be pardoned in this situation. Now, Jibeom, can you promise to keep Luna safe until either we find you or you escape?”

The man was shocked momentarily by her question, before he nodded once. “It’s my job to do so.”

“Good, both of you follow me.” The girl took off across the throne room to the back wall before kneeling next to a weapons stand. “Jibeom, help me move this.”

The two of them moved the stand off the wall and the advisor reached to a stone in the wall. She pushed it in and slid a panel in the wall open. “This tunnel leads through the walls of the castle to the stables. Either stay in here until one of us calls ‘The moon needs the stars’ or get to the stables and out into the city.”

The girl turned and handed a sword to Jibeom before strapping her own across her back. “Luna, I hoped you should never have to use this, but here.” The advisor pulled a dagger sheath off her belt. The handle shined with many jewel embellishments. “I was to give that to you if I ever failed as your advisor or friend, which I supposed has happened.”

A loud slam echoed across the room and the trio turned to see the door shake. Artemisia was the first to turn back. She grabbed Luna’s wrist and pulled her toward the tunnel. “It’s time, you both must go. Now!”

“Wait,” Luna spoke desperately. “The two of us? Are you not coming?!”

Artemisia shook her head softly. “You know I can’t.” As the two entered she stopped Jibeom momentarily, her face deadly serious. “We’ll hold them as long as possible but you must keep Her Highness safe.” She handed the young guard a candle. “Close the panel, they won’t be able to follow you then.”

Another bang sounded on the other side of the door. Artemisia released her hold on Jibeom before turning to join the other guards in the throne room.

“Artemisia!” A voice suddenly called, and she slowed to turn back. Luna was kneeling by the entrance of the tunnel. “Promise me you will stay safe.”

A sad smile crossed the advisor’s face before she held up a hand, pinky up. “I promise to try.” Facing the door again, she tightened the straps of the sheath across her back and continued toward the guards.

Jibeom turned to Luna before whispering, “We have to go.” He gently pushed her further down the tunnel before turning. Setting down the candle, the guard found a hold on the panel and slid it shut, plunging the two of them into darkness. He picked the candle up and moved toward Luna, “We have to move forward and then we can stop.”

The young ruler looked at the man at her side, her personal bodyguard. Had things gotten so bad now that her guard may actually have to fight to protect her. The thought of that terrified her. Over the months he had been assigned to her, she had begun to fall in love with her.

Jibeom seemed to sense the fear Luna felt as she resorted to her thoughts. He called her attention softly, “Luna.” She lifted her head fully toward him before he continued, “I promise we will all be okay. I’m here to protect you and Artemisia made a promise to you. From what I know of her, I doubt she will be one to break it.” He smiled at the last part to lift Luna’s spirits.

The ruler laughed softly before speaking, “No, she wouldn’t I suppose.”

Jibeom gently placed his hand at the base of her back before guiding Luna forward. “We have to move forward now. They’ll call for us later.”

[gatesofember]

Frailty and Fortune: Chapter 7

PJO Arranged Marriage/Royalty AU Part 10

Rating: T | Pairing: Solangelo

Prev | Next | AU directory | Read it on AO3 (Recommended) | Arranged Marriage AU Masterpage

Summary: A few months have passed since Prince Nico’s wedding to William of Solace. Even with his husband at his side, Will sometimes feels lonely as he settles into his new life. He misses his home, his family, his friends, and his studies in Venadica. Meanwhile, Nico is uncertain how to help him, awkward about expressing himself, and he wonders if he’ll ever be able to truly make his husband happy. As time goes by and Will continues to feel lost in his new home, Will and Nico must both learn how to make their marriage work.

Will had intended to start working on city improvement plans as soon as possible, but Nico appeared to have other ideas.  After Will returned to the palace, Nico spent the rest of the day and most of the next doting on him.  While the gesture seemed sweet at first, by the afternoon Will found himself so distracted by Nico hovering over his shoulder that he could hardly think, let alone theorize ways to reconstruct the Plutonian economy, so he subtly suggested Nico ought to help Hazel brush up on her fencing.  Nico’s expression fell and Will felt immediately guilty, so when Nico asked if he was being bothersome, Will hurried to explain that he wanted to do some research and that Nico’s presence made it difficult to focus—“because I love you so much,” he said, which provoked a blush and a soft, sweet smile from his husband, and then Nico agreed to give Will some alone time.

Will found Reyna flipping through papers in her study.  He’d never visited her chambers before so he hovered outside the door awkwardly for a moment, holding a large scroll under his arm while he watched the top of Reyna’s head and tried to think of a way to politely announce himself.  Reyna made an excellent friend, but she was intimidating as a soror and advisor.  Will always felt small around her—unless, of course, she chose to dull the sharp, authoritative aura that she normally gave off, but she was selective about the circumstances under which she did so.

Finally, Reyna looked up.  “May I help you with something, Your Highness, or would you prefer to continue lurking in the doorway?”

“Oh,” Will said.  “Uh, yes.  I wondered if you had a moment to spare?  I’d like to talk to you about a few things I noticed in the city yesterday.”

“You mean when you decided to run off without telling anybody and set the whole palace in uproar?”

Will bit his lip.  “Um—” he started, but Reyna gave him a knowing, if exasperated, smile.

“Have a seat, Your Highness,” Reyna said, gesturing to the chair across her desk.  When he did, she folded her hands in front of herself and leaned back.  “I presume you want to talk about the financial state of Divitia?”

“Well, uh, yes,” Will stammered.  “I thought, if you’re amenable, we could discuss some ideas I had for recovery.”

Reyna nodded for him to continue.

“I’ve been looking into Divitia’s aqueducts,” Will said, unrolling the scroll he’d brought on top of the desk to show her a map of the city’s sewage system.  He’d uncovered it from the palace’s archives that morning before Nico had woken up to distract him.  “It’s all horribly dated.  Nothing’s been touched for a decade.  No maintenance, no upgrades—nothing apart from an occasional cleaning.”

“And for a reason,” Reyna said.  “You know what happened a decade ago.”

“Yes, the Scarlet Delirium,” Will answered.  “But the system needs to be renovated.  I didn’t have an opportunity to examine anything while in the city, but I’m sure it’s in desperate need of repairs and I know it’s inefficient.  The streets are filthy, Reyna.  All that sewage not being properly drained—it must be affecting the health of the citizens.  Sanitation and clean water greatly decrease the risk of spreading disease.  Construction would provide at least temporary employment for some of the citizens and jobs in sanitation would offer a more permanent solution, which won’t fix the economic troubles of the people but should somewhat ease them.  We could contract engineers to design a new system.  Venus’ aqueducts are supposed to be incredibly brilliant—perhaps we could implement something like them here.”

Reyna sighed.  “Will, your enthusiasm is admirable, but you need to think smaller if you want to help people.  Venus has the most sophisticated sewage systems in the world.  The Duchess had the entire island updated less than half a decade ago, but we don’t have the funds to build anything like it in even one city.”

“Then what about the Venadican system?” Will asked.  “Or the Phrygian?  I can write to my aunt and Lityerses to ask for the city plans.”

Reyna shook her head.  “A new system is impossible.  The most we can do is repair and give some minor updates to the one that already exists.”

Will looked down at the map of Divitia’s aqueducts.  “I’ll put more thought into it, then,” he said, rolling the paper back up.  “Smaller thoughts.”

“Have you talked to your husband about your ideas?”

Will paused.  “That’s...um...well, no.”  Nico hadn’t seemed very keen on discussing things earlier.  He’d been more interested in distracting Will with kisses and light touches and pretty smiles.

Reyna sighed and rubbed her temple.  “Gods above, then what do you talk about?”

Her tone caught Will by surprise.  “What do you mean?” 

Reyna shook her head.  “Forgive me, Your Highness, I shouldn’t have said anything.  That wasn’t appropriate.”

Will’s frown deepened.  Your Highness?  Just a moment ago, she’d called him ‘Will.’

Reyna pursed her lips when Will didn’t let her relent.  “It’s really not my place,” she said.  “Only, the both of you seem to be building a habit of not discussing things with each other.  Like in Phrygia.”

“But we talked about what happened in Phrygia,” Will said.  “Besides, do I really need to tell him everything?”

It came out sounding more sour than Will intended, and Reyna picked up on it.  “Are you still fighting?” she asked.

“No,” Will said.  “It’s just that I don’t see why I need to report to him so much—or anyone else, for that matter.  After I went to town yesterday, everyone kept scolding Mellie and I.  Why do people need to know where I am or what I’m doing every second of the day?”

“Everyone wants to see you safe, that’s all,” Reyna assured.  “Well—your husband has the additional motive of wanting to know your schedule so that he can put himself in it whenever possible.  He likes spending time with you.”

“I’m just not used to having to report my activities so much.  I used to leave the Sun Palace to explore Phoebus and Delphi all the time, and in Venadica I lived in the city.”

“Phoebus, Delphi, and Venadica don’t have the same level of crime as Divitia.”

“Yes, I noticed,” Will admitted, thinking of his lost coin purse.  “But it’s still restraining.  Almost suffocating.”

“You could tell the Prince you feel that way,” Reyna suggested with a faint clip of exasperation in her tone.  “Just an idea.”

Will frowned.  “You really think Nico and I don’t talk seriously enough?”

Reyna folded her arms.  “I didn’t say that, precisely.  It just seems like there are a few important things that you’ve neglected to mention to one another.”

Will had to admit, they did spend a considerable amount of time kissing or talking about unimportant nonsense.  “Then is there something that Nico hasn’t told me?”

“I didn’t say that,” Reyna repeated, but she didn’t deny it, either.

“Perhaps I should talk to him,” Will said.  “You’re right, after all.  We’re married.  We should talk to each other about these things.”  And if there was something Nico hadn’t told him, Nico might feel better about discussing it if Will opened up to him first.

“I’m going to see Akhlys and offer my assistance in the infirmary again,” Will said.  “If Nico asks for me when he finishes Hazel’s fencing lesson, will you tell him I’ve gone there?”

Reyna nodded.  “Yes, Your Highness.  Leave the aqueduct map here and I’ll look over it.”

Will glanced at the rolled paper in his hands.  “Really?  But I thought you said we couldn’t do anything.”

“I said that you need to think smaller,” Reyna corrected.  “It’s a good idea, Will.  We can’t do it on the scale you’d like, but if you and I do more research, we’ll find a more obtainable solution.  I’ll contact some engineers to hear their initial thoughts.”

Will beamed.  “Thank you, Reyna,” he said, setting the map back down on her desk.  “I appreciate your time.”

“Always, Your Highness.  And good luck with Akhlys.  Maybe this time she’ll be more agreeable.”

“Somehow I doubt it,” Will mumbled, but he thanked her all the same.

Will, as usual, found Akhlys alone in the darkened, dusty infirmary.  The door was only barely cracked open, like she was trying to make the space as uninviting as possible without rendering it unavailable.  Will saw her silhouette shadowed in the back of the infirmary behind the desk, handling a silver instrument and blinking at it with bleary eyes.  Will squinted, but he couldn’t tell what it was.

“What’s that?” Will asked as he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Akhlys slammed her instrument down on the desk and Will cringed.  He hoped the instrument wasn’t too expensive.  “You again!” Akhlys barked.  “How many times must I chase you off?”

“But I—”

“Out!” she said, standing up and waving her arms to shoo him away.  “Leave!”

Will almost backed into the corridor again, but then reminded himself to stand his ground.  “I thought if we talked a bit more, we might come up with an arrangement that suits both of us.”

“My current arrangement is miserable enough,” Akhlys said as she stormed out from around her desk.  “I do not need men puttering about my infirmary making a mess of things, too.”

Will blinked in surprise.  It had been a while since the last time his gender had caused an issue; healing was a women’s discipline, but it did not actively exclude men.  People generally did nothing more than express surprise at seeing him in a woman’s role.  It wasn’t uncommon for patients to feel more comfortable with a female doctor, but they were usually polite if they requested another physician, sometimes not even speaking up until Will noticed their unease and asked if they would rather be treated by someone else.  Comfort and trust were of utmost importance when treating a patient, so Will considered it his duty to provide that for them.

But Akhlys wasn’t a patient.  Akhlys was a fellow healer clinging to outdated rules of conduct, brushing Will aside because of his sex.  Will was reminded of a few researchers at the Grand Expo who had all but ignored him until they realized who he was—a student of Asclepius and the nephew of the Matestra.  Within the first few days of the Expo, Will had learned to introduce himself as Asclepius’ pupil at the beginning of every conversation so that he’d be taken seriously from the start.

“I understand your apprehension,” Will said, forcing his tone to sound polite.  “But I am a perfectly qualified student of medicine.  I studied in Venadica under Asclepius, and if you like, I can share my research with you and—”

“I do not care!” Akhlys interrupted, now standing so close that Will could see the yellow crust that always seemed to line her eyes.  “I do not want anyone’s assistance, least of all a bastard like you.”

Will felt like he’d been slapped.  People didn’t call him that—not to his face, at least.  Natural-born, yes, but bastard?  Most people wouldn’t dare.

“Akhlys!” roared an angry voice, and Will and Akhlys both whirled around to find Nico in the open doorway to the infirmary, still clothed in his fencing gear and eyes blazing with fury.

Will had seen Nico angry before.  He’d been formally introduced to Nico’s temper during their trip to Phrygia.  But he hadn’t seen Nico angry like this.

“What did you just call my husband?”

Akhlys’ usually pallid face went white.  “Your Highness, I did not mean—”

“Oh, but I think you did,” Nico snapped.  “I demand you apologize this instant.  I will not allow anyone in this palace to speak to my husband that way.”

“Nico, it’s alright,” Will said, trying to sound soft and soothing.  “She doesn’t need to—”

“Yes, she does,” Nico interrupted.  “No one speaks to the Prince’s consort that way.  Akhlys, now.”

Akhlys, Will had thought, only seemed to know two emotions: anger and misery.  But now he realized she also knew fear.  Akhlys’ sunken eyes had grown in terror, her thin body recoiling in fright.  And despite how unlikable her personality was, Will couldn’t help but feel sorry for her.

“I apologize, Your Highness,” Akhlys croaked.  “I don’t know what came over me.”

“It’s quite alright,” Will said.

“It isn’t,” Nico insisted.  “I don’t care how long you have worked here, Akhlys.  I don’t care how many kings you have served.  If you treat my husband this way again, I will see you removed from the palace.”  His hand latched firmly around Will’s wrist and he tugged his arm.  “Come,” he said, pulling Will through the doorway.

Will followed obediently, but looked back at Akhlys as they left, worried in spite of himself that she’d be alright.  Regardless, his chances of developing an amicable professional relationship with her seemed worse than ever.

*   *   *

Only one person, aside from Nico himself, had ever called Nico a bastard to his face, but that had been more than enough to cement the idea in his mind as a child: Nico was a bastard, and that was unforgivable.

And yet, it had been a long time since Nico had last thought of himself as disgusting due to his birth.  He didn’t think he was lesser than anyone else because of it and he didn’t think that it made him undeserving of his title.  Without realizing it, Nico had become more comfortable with the knowledge that he was natural-born, and while Nico knew that he had been improving since long before his engagement, he was also aware that a large part of it was thanks to Will.  After all, Will was natural-born, and Will deserved the world.  How could being natural-born be disgusting?

So when Nico heard the word ‘bastard’ directed at his husband, his temper flared into an uncontrolled inferno.  He knew what it felt like to be called a bastard, to be told that his very existence was shameful, and to be forced into believing that he was worthless.  Nico wouldn’t hesitate to banish anyone to the depths of Tartarus for making his husband feel that way.

From over his shoulder, Nico heard Will’s voice, small and uncertain: “Are you upset with me?” 

Nico slowed to a stop in front of their rooms and turned back to face him.  “Of course not,” he said.  “Why do you think I’m upset with you?”

“You are pulling me.”

Nico looked down at their hands, finally noticing that he’d grabbed Will by the wrist.  He let go immediately, but Will’s sleeve was already wrinkled.  “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.”

Nico frowned.  Will kept saying that, but it wasn’t alright.  It wasn’t alright for Akhlys to speak to him the way she had.  It wasn’t alright for Nico to drag him away without permission.

But Will entwined his fingers with Nico’s and led him through the door to their apartments.

“I’m not upset with you,” Nico repeated, closing the door behind himself for privacy.

“Yet it seems like you disapprove of how I handled Akhlys,” Will said as he deposited himself on the chaise in front of the cold fireplace.

“No, I—” Nico stopped.  “Actually, yes, I do.  You can’t let her speak that way to you, Will.  What would you have done if I hadn’t shown up?  Would you have just allowed it?”

Will raised an eyebrow calmly.  “It’s not as though her opinion is particularly uncommon.  I’m not ashamed of who I am, but I do realize that with my parentage being what it is, I was never the ideal candidate for a prince’s husband.”

“You were the perfect candidate for a prince’s husband!  I chose you, didn’t I?  And I did so knowing very well that your natural parents weren’t married.  That at least should be enough for Akhlys to know better than to speak to you that way.  How dare she call you a...a....”  Nico waved vaguely, unable to say the word.

“It’s nothing that I haven’t heard before.”

Nico clenched his fists.  “Who else?  I’ll make every one of them apologize—”

“No one in the palace,” Will assured calmly—too calmly for Nico’s liking.  “I don’t think I’ve been called a bastard since before we were engaged, actually.  It wasn’t uncommon for the families of prospective suitors to either refuse me or offer little in return for my dowry—‘on account of the circumstances of his birth,’ they’d say, if they were being polite about it.”

“Polite?”

“Oh, and Octavian calls me a bastard all the time, but that hardly counts.  No one listens to Octavian.  The point is, I’ve gotten used to it.  It was a bit of a shock to hear from Akhlys, but it doesn’t bother me much.”

“Well, it bothers me!” Nico snapped.  “It’s disgusting.  How could anyone imply that you’re sullied or...or impure?  And what does the marital status of one’s birth parents mean, anyway?  That doesn’t make you a....”  Nico gestured again.

“But I am a bastard.”

Nico felt something inside himself shake and threaten to crumble, like he was ten years old again and Minos...Minos....

It’s no wonder you’re so incompetent, bastard that you are.

Selfish bastard brat!

Your sister may have been a bastard too, but at least she was intelligent.

You’re nothing but a whore’s filthy bastard!

But I am a bastard.

“Stop saying that word,” Nico choked.  “Natural-born.  You are natural-born.  You’re not...that.”

“Natural-born, then,” Will relented, but the hint of exasperation in his tone suggested that he was growing frustrated with Nico.  “And it’s not disgusting.  I thought you didn’t care?”

“I didn’t!” Nico said.  “Don’t,” he immediately corrected.  Why was it that he always said things wrong when he got this way—angry and nervous and too emotional to string words together properly?  “I meant they are disgusting—the people who call you that—not you and not your birth.  I just hate that vile word.  I don’t want anyone to use it on you.”

Will sighed.  “Nico, I appreciate you trying to defend my honor, but—”

“Will,” Nico interrupted, “the Queen Consort is barren.”

The silence that followed lasted only a second, but it boomed and echoed in Nico’s ears for what felt like hours.

He’d said it.  He’d finally said it.  Nico had always intended to tell Will about his biological parentage, and now that Will was his husband, Nico didn’t have to keep the secret from him.  He still felt a sharp, brief jolt of terror that Will would be disgusted and announce he couldn’t love Nico anymore, but that fear was quickly crushed beneath the heel of certainty that Will would not abandon him or begrudge him for being natural-born.  Nico had said it because he trusted Will, he reminded himself.  It would be alright.  After all, he and Will were the same.

“Barren?” Will repeated.

Nico nodded.

Will was quiet for another moment.  Then he said, “That’s nothing to be concerned about.  It’s normal for women her age to stop cycling—”

Nico blinked.  “Wait, what?”

Will tilted his head curiously.  “Haven’t you heard of menopause?”

Nico hadn’t, but he felt fairly certain that Will had misunderstood his point.

“Will, she’s always been barren,” he said.

Will stared at Nico, his head still tipped to one side.  At first, all Nico could read in his expression was confusion, but then the lines of Will’s face began to change—slowly, then all at once.

Will sat up straighter.  “Then you mean...you mean, she’s not....”

Nico ached to hide his face, but forced himself not to look away from Will’s eyes.  “She’s not my birth mother.”

“Oh,” Will said.  “Oh.”

And he fell silent.  Nico watched and waited until the shock in his eyes had dulled just a bit more before he spoke again.

“Will, you can’t tell anyone.  If it becomes known that I’m not the King and Queen Consort’s natural child, the country will go into chaos.  People hate me enough already; they’d love a reason to throw me out of the line of succession.  No one else can know about this.  You understand that, don’t you?”

Will nodded.  “Yes, of course,” he said, his brow furrowing adorably.  Nico wanted to kiss the wrinkles away, but it didn’t seem like an appropriate time.

“You have questions,” Nico observed, gingerly sitting beside him on the chaise.  Will glanced at Nico when he sat down, his mouth opening to say something, but hesitated.

“You may ask anything,” Nico said, weaving and unweaving his fingers anxiously.  “I’ll answer what I can.”

Will wet his lips.  “Can you tell me about your birth mother?  Who is she?”

“Do you recall my governess, Lady Maria?  I’ve mentioned her before.”

Will nodded.

“She was my birth mother.  Before Bianca was born, Maria was one of my mother’s—that is, one of Persephone’s ladies.  When my father and Persephone discovered she couldn’t have children, Maria became...a surrogate, I suppose you could say.”

“How did they manage to keep it a secret?” Will asked.

“When Maria’s condition became too obvious to hide, they said Persephone’s pregnancy had complications,” Nico answered.  “Everyone in the palace was told that she would remain in her rooms and was only to be attended by two of her ladies—Maria being one of them.”

“And the other?” Will asked.

Nico pursed his lips.  “Her name was Marie.  She was Persephone’s half-sister and Hazel’s natural mother.  When I became heir to the throne, I was already fixated on the idea of taking a husband, so if I was to remain childless, my father needed another heir to continue the royal line.  Maria and Bianca died around the same time so with Maria gone, Marie was the best option for a surrogate.  She already knew that Persephone couldn’t have children.”

And Nico’s parents had trusted her.  Why wouldn’t they trust Persephone’s sister?

That trust turned out to be misplaced, in the end.

“And what happened to Marie?” Will asked.  “You speak of her in the past tense.”

“She’s dead now,” Nico answered.  He tried to remain impassive when he said it, but something in his voice must have alerted Will.  Will watched him with a studious gaze, like he was trying to answer a puzzling question, and Nico avoided looking at him directly.

“I’m sorry,” said Will.  “I know that Lady Maria was important to you, but was Marie...?”

“No,” Nico answered.  “Marie—she was...well, that’s another story.”

Memories of that night still tormented Nico’s dreams.  Sometimes, he still woke up gasping, desperately clawing at the invisible hands clamped around his throat.  He still saw the shadow of someone looming over him in his nightmares, reaching down to strangle him in his sleep.  Just last month, he’d bolted upright in bed, clutching his own neck, coughing, gagging—it was a miracle that he hadn’t woken Will.

“Does Hazel know?” Will asked.

It took Nico a moment to remember Will was still asking about their natural birth.  “No,” he said.  “I wasn’t supposed to know, either.  I found out on accident.”

“Accident?”

“My tutor, Minos.  He told me while we were on the countryside.”

Will frowned.  “How did he tell you on accident?”

“He was angry,” Nico explained.  He couldn’t recall why Minos had been so furious at that particular moment.  Perhaps the memory had been lost in the shock of what happened after, or perhaps Nico hadn’t known why to begin with; towards the end of Nico’s stay at his estate, Minos’ temper started to become so easily tipped that Nico had a difficult time keeping track of exactly what he’d done wrong.  Minos hadn’t always been so harsh with Nico, but once Nico found out about the baiting....

“He lost control of himself,” Nico went on.  “He shouted at me and called me a....” He cut himself off, unable to stomach saying the word.  “But he didn’t mean to say it.  At least, not the first time.”

“Nico,” Will said, slowly and deliberately.  “That does not qualify as finding out ‘on accident.’  You do understand how that’s not an accident, don’t you?”

“He was angry,” Nico repeated.  “He couldn’t control himself.”

The lines of Will’s face drew tight and hard in that unforgiving way that always caught Nico by surprise.  “I don’t believe that’s true,” Will said.  “People don’t do things on accident when they’re angry.  They use anger as an excuse to justify themselves.  And you couldn’t have been more than ten years old at the time!  What sort of person says that to a child?”

Nico bit back the urge to argue that Minos couldn’t be blamed.  After all, Nico knew what it was like to be that angry—to feel fury well up inside him so hot that he saw red.  He knew what it was like to lose his grip on himself and fly into a rage, to do and say things that he’d be ashamed of later.  Nico had done it before.  He’d done it to Will.

Nico’s stomach lurched.  No—he wasn’t like Minos.  He couldn’t be like Minos.  He wouldn’t.  He’d never, ever hurt Will the way Minos had hurt him.

“Where is Minos, anyway?” Will asked.

Nico clenched his fists.  “Gone,” he said firmly.

Gone, Nico repeated in his mind.  He’s gone, he thought again, the way he’d practiced.  For nearly a year after returning to Divitia, Nico had stayed up late each night, holding his knees, rocking back and forth, and reciting the words over and over until they were firmly planted in his head.  Minos was gone.  It was over.

Will nodded.  “Good,” he said.  Nico flinched, but Will didn’t seem to notice.  “So Minos knew about your birth.  Who else?  Akhlys would have overseen the pregnancies, I assume.”

“She didn’t,” said Nico.  “My father requested a sororal midwife—your aunt.”

Will raised his eyebrows.  “Artemis?”

“Maria’s first pregnancy happened while Artemis was still a soror in Venadica.  She was sent here when my father asked for a midwife,” Nico explained.  “She became Soror Princepa of Delphi before I was born, but she still answered the call when my parents asked for her help again.  Maria was without a midwife for the first few months, though. Artemis had other matters to attend to in Diana before she could travel to Pluto—she was helping deliver you, actually.  By the time Hazel was conceived, Artemis was the Matestra, the Scarlet Delirium was in its downswing, and I was living on the countryside.  Artemis left Venadica to stay here in the palace under the guise of diplomatic purposes.”

“And I must have already fled Pluto with the other Venadican children, so I didn’t even know she’d left the city,” Will said.  “Did Bianca know any of this?”

Nico shook his head.  “No.  The only other people who know are Reyna and a few of my father’s closest advisers.  Hestia, too.”

Hestia had been there the day Nico found out.  She’d entered Nico’s room to find him crying, and Nico, too distraught to feel more ashamed than he already did, had told her everything.

Will looked confused for a moment, then his expression cleared and he said, “I’d forgotten you were friends with Hestia.  She was a maid at Minos’ estate, wasn’t she?  I always wondered how you came to know each other so well.”

“We looked after each other,” Nico said.  “We had to.”

Had to, from the moment Hestia found the beaten dog hidden in Nico’s room.  Had to, when Nico needed her help smuggling food to Asterion.  Had to, when Minos discovered them and....

Nico looked up and found himself pinned under the gaze of Will’s soft blue eyes, almost crushed by the gentle understanding in them.

“You can tell me anything,” Will said, but he didn’t ask for details.  Nico was grateful.  One day, he’d tell Will everything, but today he’d already said enough.  He could only bear his soul so much before the pain immobilized him.

“I know you brought all this up because of what Akhlys said, but you realize you could have told me any time, don’t you?” Will said.  “If you were trying to comfort me with the knowledge that both of us are natural-born, or if you felt you somehow owed it to me to tell me....”

“No, that wasn’t why,” Nico assured.  “At least, that wasn’t the only reason.  I’ve wanted to tell you for a long time.  And yes, maybe I did think you’d take comfort in the fact that we’re the same, because I know I do.  I was ashamed of it for a long time, but then I met you and...you weren’t.  If you don’t feel ashamed, why should I?  So when I told Akhlys to apologize to you, I wasn’t just trying to ‘defend your honor’ or whatever it was you said earlier.  I think I was trying to defend myself, too.  It sounds selfish, but—”

“It doesn’t,” Will said.  “Not in the slightest.  And it bothered you when I wasn’t as upset with Akhlys as you were, didn’t it?  You wanted me to stand up for myself because then I’d be standing up for you, too.”

Nico swallowed thickly and managed a short nod.  “Maybe being called a ba— being called that doesn’t bother you as much as it bothers me, but my experience with that word is different.”

Will’s head inclined encouragingly.  “Minos?” he asked.

Nico nodded again.

“Then you must have really hated it when I called myself that.”

Nico’s eyes drifted towards the tiled ground.  “I don’t mean to tell you what you can and can’t say—” he started.

Will reached out and placed his hand on top of Nico’s.  “It’s alright,” he assured.  “No, you can’t tell me what to say or not say.  But this?  I can do this for you.  I won’t use that word anymore and I won’t allow anyone to call me it, either.  It’s not like I’m especially fond of it, anyway.”

And then Will kissed Nico, and Nico hadn’t realized how much he needed it until that moment.  He knew Will still loved him, but the physical affection made it feel more real.

Will didn’t care that Nico was natural-born.  He would love Nico no matter who his birth parents were.

“Thank you for telling me this,” Will said.  “It couldn’t have been easy for you to talk about that, but I’m so grateful that you did.”

“I wanted to tell you sooner — almost did, a few times.  But I decided to wait until we were married.  It’s a family secret, and now you’re part of the family.”  Nico didn’t add that he’d also wanted to wait because once they were married, Will wouldn’t be able to leave him.

Well—that wasn’t quite true.  The marriage was unconsummated.  Will could still leave.  Will didn’t know that, though.  He wouldn’t leave if he didn’t know it was a possibility.

Nico’s stomach twisted.  How could he even think that?  Will wasn’t disgusted.  Nico had known that Will wouldn’t be disgusted.  And besides, he couldn’t trap Will in marriage—he wouldn’t do that to someone he loved.  So if Will had wanted to leave him....

It was best not to think about that.  Will would never have left him for being natural-born and it was an insult to Will that Nico had ever worried.

“I trust you,” Nico said, partly to remind himself.  Something about speaking the words out loud solidified them further in his mind the same way the kiss had, allowing him to reaffirm his grip on their truth.  Will had never given Nico a reason to doubt him.  Nico could trust Will.

“And you always can,” Will said.  “I’m your husband.  You can tell me anything.  Happy things, sad or angry things—even simple, unimportant things.  Anything, Nico.”

Nico resisted the instinct to avert his eyes.  Eye contact was hard for him, especially at times like this when he felt uncertain, or scared, or guilty.  Nico trusted Will, but he couldn’t tell him just anything.  Most things, yes.  But not anything.

“But only if you want to,” Will continued, like he sensed Nico’s hesitance even though Nico had tried to hide it.  “I understand that some things are difficult for you to talk about and other things you may rather keep private.  You can tell me anything, but you don’t have to tell me everything.”  Will waited a moment, like he was giving Nico a chance to say something, but when Nico stayed silent, he said, “Anyway, you were right about Akhlys.  That was an awfully nasty thing to say.”

Nico wrinkled his nose.  “It was completely out of line.  Even if I weren’t natural-born, I would have been furious with her.  No one speaks to the Prince’s consort that way.”

“My gallant protector,” Will said, sliding his arm around Nico’s back and kissing his temple.  “What do you say we spend the rest of the day like this?  I seem to have a free schedule.”

“But I thought you wanted time to yourself,” Nico said.

“I did,” Will answered.  “And now I want time with you.  Are you agreeable?”

Nico sighed contentedly as Wills lips brushed over the crest of his ear.  “Yes, I’d like that,” he said, and he leaned into his husband’s side and let the comfortable warmth of Will’s love wash over him.

[suescamander]

Cost of the Crown

The stars are very beautiful, above the palace walls,

They shine with equal splendour, still above far humbler halls.

I watch them from my window, but their bright entrancing glow,

Reminds me of the freedom I gave up so long ago.

Arthur stood at the window of his chambers, staring up to the night sky, illuminated only by the bright glow of the stars.

He used to love the stars. When he was still the prince rather than king. But now... Now they made him feel melancholic. They reminded him of nights spend outside, watching the stars, not worrying about anything more than how to improve his fighting skills. They reminded him of moonlight kisses, of happy smiles, being happy in general. They reminded him of how it felt, not having to worry about everything, not having to mourn death and misery.

He still loved the stars, they were beautiful after all. If only they wouldn't bring memories crashing down, memories to compare with how he felt now. Memories who made him crave to turn back time, longing for that much easier life he had.

The Royal circlet of bright gold rests lightly on my brow,

I once thought only of the rights this circlet would endow.

But once I took the crown, to which I had been schooled and bred,

I found it heavy on the heart, though light upon the head.

There was a glimmer visible from his bedside table. Arthur practically felt the light pressure his crown usually put on his head. It wasn't heavy. Not this one at least, it was his daily one, not the big ceremonial crown. And even that one was manageable. Especially if one was used to it. And that he was.

That crown also reminded him of his earlier days. But, opposing to the familiar glow of the stars, his crown brought back memories of how foolish he had been. How arrogant. What a prat he had been, entitled by his, well, title as prince of Camelot. He was lucky, having found someone to show him his bratty behaviour. But still - he had looked forward to being crowned. Once again he wished for the ability to turn back time. To prepare his younger self for the pain that would shadow his coronation, the pain and loss that was about to come.

Although I am the head of state, in truth I am the least,

The true Queen knows her people fed, before she sits to feast.

The good Queen knows her people safe, before she takes her rest,

Thinks twice and thrice and yet again, before she makes request.

For they are all my children,all, that I swore to defend,

It is my duty to become both Queen and trusted friend.

And of my children high and low, from beggar to above,

The dearest are my Heralds, who return my care with love.

He always thought as king everything would go like he wanted it to. He thought he could do as he pleased. But he quickly had to learn that everything he did as king was for his people. He realized that his personal interests always came at last - hence why he waited so long to finally accept that his personal interests were the only thing that mattered in terms of his love life.

In hindsight he knew that he should have made the step earlier, for a happy king leads to a happy kingdom.

He glanced down at his left hand, catching sight of the shimmering silver decorating his finger. The slightest hint of a smile stole itself on his face, only to vanish a second later.

He got his happiness. Others didn't. He, as king, was supposed to ensure the safety of his people. He was supposed to make sure they were alright. It was more or less his job to enable all of them, no matter which social rank they hold, to live their life safely.

But most important to him were his knights. The people who stood with him. Who were his friends, his advisors. Who loved him.

The dearest are my Heralds, swift to spring to my command.

Who give me aid and fellowship, who always understand

That land and people first have needs that I may not deny.

So I must send my dearest friends to danger—and to die.

A friend, a love, a child—it matters not, I know indeed,

That I must sacrifice them all if there should be the need.

They know, and they forgive me—doing more than I require,

With willing minds and loving hearts go straight to grasp the fire.

His knights. His warriors, his insurance. The people who fought beside him, who died next to him. They understood the risks of being a knight. They understood that they might not return from one of the trips, but still came with him, still fought, still died. They understood that the well-being of Camelot was more important than a single life - or hundreds for that matter. His friends still stood beside him, and he might once have to send them to death. The dearest of his knights were the knights of the Round Table. The knights who went through so many dangers with him. And, oh lord, how many did he sent to ruin?

Lancelot. Sacrificed and later used to destroy Arthurs trust in Gwen, who he had been wanting to marry because she knew about him and his secrets. Arthur never wanted to cast her away. She was truly in love with Lance, but had been ready to cover as Arthurs wife. And because of that, her love was ripped away in the most cruel manner he could have imagined. He did not only lose Lancelot, the most loyal out of all of them, he also destroyed one of his dearest friends in the process because he wasn't brave enough to face his council about his love life.

Elyan. Another person dear to Gwen. Died trying to save his sister, who had been captured and tortured to hurt Arthur.

And at last - Gwaine and Percival. Gwaine - Merlins best friend, died because Morgana had tortured him to get go know their location. Died while trying to help Merlin save Arthur. Died believing he failed at it. And died, leaving Percival behind. They hadn't been official, though on the best way to it. Percival wasn't the same, still shocked, for it hadn't been a day since Gwaine passed away directly in front of him.

The worst part of it all, it had been Arthur who sent them, no, led them  in the missions that cost them their lives or loved ones. It had been Arthur who had doomed them.

These tears that burn my eyes are all the tears the Queen can't shed,

The tears I weep in silence as I mourn my Heralds dead.

Oh gods that dwell beyond the stars, if you can hear my cry—

And if you have compassion—let me send no more to die!

As Arthur stood there, gazing at the stars, re-living all the terrible things that happend to those close to him, tears welled up in his eyes. He spiralled into questions of what if? and tried to cope with everything, especially with the things happening the last days. A lot had happened - he almost died, hadn't it been for Merlin, he lost Gwaine and so many more in Camlann, and Arthur found himself doubting every single one of his decisions as king.

Could he have prevented Morgana from ripping the veil between the worlds to save Lance? Could he have protected Gwen from being kidnapped and tortured at the Black Tower? Could he have prevented Mordred from turning on him? Could he...

A quiet rustle shook him from his thoughts, followed by light tapping of bare feet on the cold stone floor. Arthur didn't turn around. "What are you doing out of bed? You need rest, you just survived being stabbed!" Arthur still didn't react. Arms went around his waist from behind, a chin came resting on his right shoulder. The king glanced down at the hands on his stomach, catching the sight of a thin silver band matching his. He still didn't say anything, but he put his hands on his spouse's, thankful of the constance he provided. His consort gave him a reassuring squeeze, and Arthur led out a sigh.

"It's just... It is my fault. Gwaine. Lance. Elyan. All the others." He finally failed to restrain the tears that threatened to spill out of his eyes, and his love was there to steady him. "Shh... It's alright. It's not your fault, Arthur." The king turned around. "It is, Merlin, and you know it! They're dead because of me. It's my fault, my guilt to carry. I send so many good people to die. It's... it's the Cost of the Crown, I think." The sorcerer, his husband, raised his hands to wipe away the tears. "You don't have to carry that weight alone, Arthur. You can share it with me. Just like we do with everything else." Arthur nodded slightly, though still doubting himself. "And please, Arthur, it's not your fault they died. They died for what they believed would grow to be the greatest kingdom to ever exist. They died to make sure you could fulfill your destiny. You can mourn them, you can weep over them, it's alright and simply human, but Arthur, I'm begging you, don't let what happened destroy you." Arthur rested his forehead against his husband's. "You're right. I'll try."

"Good. And now you're coming back to bed and won't move out there until I say so, because I don't want you catching an illness and dying of it, I didn't drag you through the forest for nothing, dear." Arthur let out a small chuckle and let himself be pulled back to the bed and tucked into the sheets, Merlin climbing in and drawing him close.

"Thank you, Merlin. I love you. I always will." Merlin snuggled up further into his chest. "I love you too. And Arthur?" "Hmm?" "It's alright to mourn and grief. You don't need to hide it. We all miss them. But doubting everything you did won't bring them back. It'll only hurt you, and that's the exact opposite of what they would want. Take all the time you need to cope. You can share the weight with my, Arthur. After all, I didn't become Crown Consort for nothing, now, did I?" Arthur draw Merlin even closer after that, pressing a kiss into his husband's hair. "No, you didn't. And I am beyond thankful for that."

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Aladdin Queen fic John Deacon x reader chap. 3; Second meeting

*Author’s note*

Okay guys so get read to binge read this series for a bit because since yesterday after finishing the last part of this chapter as well as writing up all of the next chapter, I’ve got 4 full chapters ready for you all to read and be amazed with. So I hope you all enjoy this little chapter and until the next update in just a short little while.

Taglist:

@psychosupernatural​

@plethora-of-things​

@waddles03​

@ixchel-9275​

@georgesgentlyweepingguitar​

@queendeakyy​

@simonedk​

@geek-and-proud​

@kairosfreddie​

_______________________________________________________

In the throne room of the palace, stood the three daughter of Sultan Hassim of Punjab: the eldest Aesha, the middle child Kaia, and the youngest Priyanka along with their escorts and ensembles. Across the throne room just near the steps where the steps stood were the three English kings, King Harold of the kingdom Middlesex, King Michael of Norfolk, and King Arthur of Leicester.

“Welcome Princess Aesha, Kaia and Priyanka. We trust you three had a safe journey.” King Harold stated them as the doors slowly began to open.

When the doors were fully opened there in their royal garb stood Prince Roger and Prince John and in the middle stood Prince Brian.  John nervously and unconsciously touched his right ring finger but remembered his ring was gone so he retreated his hand back.  The three princesses stood in awe at seeing the three English princes.

“By Allah.” Whispered Priyanka.  The three princes slowly walked down the steps with grace and poise and soon coming behind them was a servant around their age with short black hair and a mustache across his lips, in his arms he carried a badger and coming from the other side were the two lions, one female and a male lion with his dark mane shining proudly.

“Daughters of Hassim, allow us to introduce our sons, my only son Prince Brian.” King Harold started off.

“My eldest and only son Prince Roger.” Continued King Michael.

“And my eldest son, Prince John.” Finished King Arthur.  The princesses stood in awe before the middle princess Kaia spoke.

“Why did no one tell us we would be meeting gods?”

“No one mentioned we would either.” Roger flirted back, but unlike how he would normally flirt with a woman, there was a bit of coldness to it.

“Aww thank you.” Kaia gushed obviously oblivious to Roger’s true meaning.

“They say back home in Punjab that we would be worthy of Lakshmi herself.” Bragged Priyanka as she made a high-class laugh and soon the escorts all laughed together in the same unison tone. “Men would line up the entire castle just to get a look at us.” The parrot on top of the advisor holding the snake staff laughed as John finally spoke.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Funny. We share the same title but are clearly not cut from the same cloth when it comes to humility and self-awareness.” At that statement Priyanka shuffled nervously.  King Arthur cleared his throat and whispered.

“John, manners.” It was then Aesha noticed the badger the servant was holding and she said.

“Just what is that rat that servant boy is holding?”

“Badger. He’s a badger, actually. Not even relatively close to the rodent family.” Brian piped in defending his pet badger.

“It looks disgusting, take it out of my sight. I hate things that crawl!” Brian wanted to interject but his father told the servant to walk away with Brian’s badger.

“Oh forget about the rodent thing Aesha, check out those cats. They’re unlike anything I’ve ever seen.” Stated Priyanka. The male lion and lioness both glared at the princesses and were growling lowly.

“Indeed, especially the one with the luscious hair. She’s got to be the most beautifuliest cat I’ve ever laid eyes on.” Answered Kaia.

“He. Male lions have the mane, females don’t.” Roger answered as he stroked through his lion’s mane.

“They like you.” The parrot stated.

“What’s not to like? Back home cats adore us. Here kitty, kitty, kitties, hi kitty, kitties.” Priyanka walked up holding her hand out waving it towards the female lioness who just kept glaring and growling lowly, slowly baring her large canine fangs.  As Priyanka continued to coo at the lioness, she was then met with a roar and a swipe of cat claws.

Her screams echoed through the walls as the escorts all just laughed.

Later that night in the study room of the English kings, they all sat around a desk with maps, books, a globe and scrolls all surrounding them.  Standing before them was their grand vizier.

“My kings, our enemies grow stronger every day yet you allow your sons to dismiss the daughters of Hassim and a possible military alliance.”

“What enemies Paul?” asked king Arthur.

“Liverpool continues to amass.”

“Liverpool is our ally.”

“Was our ally.” Paul hissed out in emphasis.

“You would drag us into war with our oldest alley.”

“And you would allow our kingdom to sink into ruin for mere sentiment!”

“Paul!” roared Michael.  Paul ceased and turned towards the second king. “Remember your place.” Continued king Michael.

“I apologize. Forgive me king Michael, I went to far.” Paul said as he slowly walked towards the door.  But he stopped and slowly turned around and said “But,” it was then the eyes on his snake staff began to glow red.  

It was then the three kings looked at Paul like they were under a trance.

“If you would only reconsider, I think you three would see that invading Liverpool, is the right thing to do.”

“Invading…Liverpool is…..” Arthur droned out in a monotoned voice.

“Invade Liverpool?” Paul was forced to release the spell he had over the three kings as John soon came into the room with a lioness behind him.  His father Arthur turned towards his son as John continued, “Why would we invade mother’s homeland?”

“We would never invade Liverpool.” His father spoke.

“But an ally in Punjab would improve our situation.” Suggested Paul.

“Yes, if you and our sons would reconsider giving the princesses a chance.” Suggested king Harold.

“To rule? Uncle Harold I would rather have Nala as my Queen.”

“My son, we’re not getting any younger and…..we are running out of kingdoms. India is our only hope of a stronger worldly alliance.”

“Why must we marry a royal blood of a foreign country in order to help them? Now I have been preparing for this my whole life, I have read—”

“Books? But you cannot read experience Prince John. Inexperience is dangerous. People left unchecked will revolt, walls and borders unguarded will be attacked.” Paul spoke to him like he was scolding a child.

“Paul is right. One day,” his father came up to him and cupped the side of his face. “You will understand my son.” John looked up at his father breathing sharply but silently. “You may leave now.” John huffed before storming out of the studies with his lioness Nala following behind him.

John stopped in the middle of the hallway trying to calm himself down of his anger but also his sadness that his father still wouldn’t take him seriously.  

Nala, his lioness came up and sat in front of him softly huffing and staring up at him solemnly, but when Paul Prenter came around the corner, her ears narrowed back and she growled defensively.

“Life would be kinder to you, Prince John. You have no wisdom of the world like Brian, nor the ambition of Roger. I think it would be better for you to be seen and not heard.” Paul spoke as he got closer to the young prince.  As Prenter stared him down, he heard the threatening growl and was staring into the golden eyes of Nala.

He glared down at the big cat like he was looking at an abomination before calmly retreating back down the hallway.

John was now back in his, along with Brian’s and Roger’s, bedroom.  He began thinking back to what Paul said.  For years out of the three young Princes, John Deacon has always been the more quieter of the sons, he always relied more on his emotions rather than his actions.

Sure he would speak his mind when the time was necessary but he’d rather not get involved with things that were mostly stupid to him.  After he lost his mother just three years ago he was so depressed and would barely speak, so with each princess he’s met he’s either acted cold and distant, or retorted back with his words like he did earlier this afternoon.  As he walked around the room, he softly sung to himself.

*John*

Here comes a wave meant to wash me away A tide that is taking me under Broken again, left with nothing to say My voice drowned out in the thunder

But I can't cry And I can't start to crumble Whenever they try To shut me or cut me down

I can't stay silent Though they wanna keep me quiet And I tremble when they try it All I know is I won't go speechless

He sat down on the couch on the balcony before wiped away his hidden tears and trying to compose himself before Brian, Roger or their servant came through those doors.

*3rd Person POV*

Outside the palace, a merchant with a cart full of fresh supplies for the palace came pulling up to the gates of the palace and one of the guards told the gate keeper to open the gates.  Standing amongst the crowd of people, who were watching a fire eater perform his nightly routine, (Y/n) stood there and whispered.

“Okay Abu, you know what to do.” Abu hopped off my shoulder and pestered one of the guards.  As he was distracted, I walked up to one of the men and took his shawl off his back and wrapped it over my head and walked alongside the cart, pretending to be one of the assistance.

Unbeknownst to (y/n), something was watching her. The red parrot that always stood on Paul’s shoulder looked down from the perch he was on and said.

“Dirty monkey.” He then took off flying squawking out, “Street thief, street thief.” He flew high and over the palace till he arrived in another large study area that belong to his master, Paul who was now removing standing before a globe with a harsh look in his eyes.

“‘Remember your place, Paul’.”

“Remember your place.” The parrot mocked back.

“If I hear that one more time!”

“Sorry, master!”

“Another petty insult from those three small-minded English buffoons. They see a kingdom, where I see an empire.” Paul said as he walked around the globe towards a book that stood on a podium.

“Such vision.” His parrot spoke.

“Once that lamp sits in my hand…then I shall sit on the throne of England.”

“Thief in the palace.” His parrot spoke as it sat on the railing of the balcony.

“Thief. Thief in the palace?” asked Paul.

“That’s what I said. Thief!”

“What have you seen Iago?” Paul asked his parrot as he walked up towards him.

“Diamond in the rough.” As Paul now stood by his parrot Iago’s side he saw for himself just what the bird was talking about. Jumping and scaling across the top of some of the palace buildings was (Y/n).

After walking across the vineyard walls, (y/n) silently hopped down and hid behind one of the steel vineyard walls just as two guards turned around, wondering if they heard anything.

She then walked into the palace to see some servants cleaning up the room, while the captain of the guard monitored them. Telling them to either make bigger circles, or get a spot that they missed.  (Y/n) noticed an abandoned red sari so she grabbed it and wrapped it around herself.

Paul and Iago came around towards the very part of the palace where they saw (y/n) go into to and there was a female servant with her head bowed down, her face hidden as she held a tray of tea while two guards passed by her.  

When the servant revealed her face, it was (y/n). She softly smiled before walking off towards the Princes chambers.

“Who’s a clever girl?” Iago stated as Paul smirked.

“Indeed. She could be just who we are looking for.” Iago squawked as he flew off and Paul slipped away from the room.

Meanwhile in the Princes’ chambers John was standing along the balcony with the servant boy who came along with them to greet the Princesses.  Prince Brian was by his maps with his badger standing right beside him, sniffing the paper, while Roger sat along his bed with his pet lion by his side.

“But Jim, there has to be something we can do.” John said as their servant Jim prepped him his nightly attire.

“Three princesses want to marry you and your two friends, when will life get any easier?”

“It’s not that we don’t want to marry, it’s just that we…..” Roger spoke as he dried his wet hair after just having his bath.

“John wants to be king, you wish to explore the world, and Brian you wish to become an astronomer.”

“You remember what our mums used to say, we would only be as happy as our least happiest subject. If they saw what Roger and I did today, they would be heartbroken.”

“They would also want us to be safe Deacy. And clean. I’m taking the next bath. You better not have used all the hot water this time Roger.” Brian spoke up as he stood up and headed towards the bathroom.

“No promises.” Roger said.

“With Paul’s guards on every corner, soon he’d have them invading our neighbors, risking lives and for what?” John continued as he looked out towards the balcony.

“Well one good thing will come from this forceful commitment of marriage. When I’m king, I’ll finally have the power to get rid of that slimy leech. What do you think John beheaded or gutting him? Or maybe a hanging?”

“Roger Taylor sometimes you worry me lad.” Jim stated solemnly.

“Oh come off it Jim, you’re the only Irish man I would spare from punishment. But Paul deserves everything I’ve got planned coming to him. I still don’t get why our father’s made him the grand vizier. If anything I would’ve made him the royal poop cleaner to Simba here.” He spoke as he stroked his lion’s mane who huffed and lowly growled. “What do you say Simba? You could give that overdressed, self-absorbed Paul Prenter a thing or two to scream about wouldn’t you?” Roger cooed as he cupped his lion’s face before affectionately headbutting him.

Simba rubbed up against Roger’s head before raising his head up and Roger proceeded to scratch under his chin down to his mid chest.

“To a degree I agree with Roger. We were born to do than marry some useless princess. It seems like all these princesses we are given don’t know how to speak up and just do whatever we say, or are too arrogant and spoiled.” John said.

“If you three had to choose a triplet of princesses, you lot could do worse than these three. I mean they do seem beautiful and yes they are a little spoiled but you’re just getting married. It’s not like you’ll have to talk to them.” Jim said.

“I wouldn’t go there Jim. Besides, he’d rather take that girl from the market place.” Roger teased as Jim softly chuckled before heading towards the bathroom to prepare Brian for his bath. John scoffed a chuckle. “Oh don’t play that John, you both we’re practically gaga for each other this afternoon. Hell she didn’t even notice me at all when we first met.”

“Yes Roger you’re very attractive, so much so that everyone confused you for a woman frequently while we were there.” John mocked back.

“Are you serious?!” cried out Brian from the bathroom.  Roger glared at John and hissed.

“You bitch.” John grinned smugly when a soft knock was heard at the door.  He walked down the two steps of the balcony and went up to the door and opened it to see someone with their back turned.

“Can I help you?” but when the person turned around, John was surprised to see the girl from the marketplace.

*My POV*

When the doors opened to reveal Jim, I held the tray of tea out and said.

“Tea?”

“You? You! What are you doing here!? Get in here now!” he pulled me inside the room and quickly shut the door.

“I came to return your ring.”

“My ring? Where is it?”

“On your finger.” I looked around in awe before I caught the sight of Ben, shirtless but wearing nightly pants stroking a big cat of sorts.  I think I was a lion maybe? Never really seen those here but I have read stories about them. “Oh Ben hello.”

“Well, well look whose come back? Enjoying the view?”

“I’ll admit it’s not bad. I love what the princes have done with the place.”

“How did you get past the guards?” asked Jim.

“That was challenging, but I have my ways.” I said as I turned back towards him. “Hey Jim, while the princes are out, would you—like to go for a stroll? Have a little chat?” I now stood in front of him and he softly shook his head as he said.

“You’re unbelievable. You cannot just break into a palace and walk around like you own the place.”

“If you don’t have anything, you have to act like you own everything.”

“She’s got you there mate.” Ben said as he continued to stroke the lion.

“So what do you say? I did find your ring.”

“You did not find my ring, you stole it.”

“Correction the monkey stole it.”

“He’s your monkey.” He retorted.

“He’s still a monkey.” I argued back.  He softly grinned at me.

“Who ordered the tea?” it was then we all turned to see a tall lean man who had massive curly hair and hazel eyes.  He was in a bathrobe and standing by his side was another lion but without the hair, which made me think that this one was a female lion.  I looked at the man stunned but before I could say anything Jim spoke up.

“I did. For you, Prince John Deacon.” Oh my god this was Prince John.

“Your majesty.” I did my best to bow.

“Why are you being weird?” I heard Prince John say. I turned to look towards Jim who settled himself from doing something and just smiled at me.  I turned back towards the youngest English Prince and that’s when he face shined with realization.

“Oh I’m Prince John. Yes, mm-hmm. And it truly is good to be me. The young prince of Leicester. The accent I have is far unique and strange to anyone else of my little kingdom. But of course I always look up to Prince Brian because he is far superior to me with his wisdom for words and wisdom of numbers. Yes I do so admire that brother of mine.” He praised in an accent that almost clearly didn’t seem to fit him. “Now if you’ll excuse me, my precious lioness needs to be cleaned.” He then turned and walked away.

Okay that was—weird.  I turned towards Jim and he looked at me and said.

“Poor thing doesn’t get out much.” I hummed and turned my back as I set the tea set down on a nearby table.

“Clearly.” But when I turned back around I was suddenly greeted by the lioness staring me down.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in the bath?” she walked up towards me and sniffed my hand before softly whining out.

“Oi servant boys! This cat aren’t going to clean themselves you know!” Prince John proclaimed from the back room.

“But don’t cat’s usually clean themselves?” I asked.

“You have to leave now.” Jim urged me on as he dragged me towards the doors.

“Okay. But I’m coming back tomorrow night.”

“What? No you can’t….”

“Meet me in the courtyard beside the fountain when the moon hits above the minaret.” I then swiftly stole another ring from John’s finger, this time a silver medallion pin like ring that rested on his right ring finger. “To return this ring next.” Jim looked at me astonished.

I then reached up and gently but hesitantly tucked back a strand of his hair that fell to his eyes.  I fiddled the ring between my fingers at him giving him my promise, before finally slipping out of the room.

As I ditched the servant sari, Abu came up towards me and got up on my shoulder and we walked off.

*John’s POV*

“What a woman. Now if she had done that to me, I would’ve had her right then and there.” Roger whistled.

“Keep your urges to yourself.” I hissed.  I looked down at my right hand to see my ring finger was now naked but as I touched it, I swore I could still feel a hint of her fingers touching it as she went to grab my ring.

*My POV*

“Can you believe it Abu? The most heavily guarded place in all of Agrabah…” I said as Abu hung from my shoulder to my arm and we both admired the ring as well as me twirling around like it was nothing. But as I faced forward again, the captain of the guards stood before me.

“Evening.” He said as Abu came to hide behind my back.

“Evening.” My voice squeaked before I cleared my throat and I said again, “Evening.” There was silence before I said, “You’ve got guards behind me, don’t you?” suddenly my vision went black as something came over my head and I was dragged out of the palace.