#I have done a bit of sword fighting in my day and those bout moments- the really impressive touches; the blade breaking; the contested call

[wen-kexing-apologist]

Having stayed up past my bedtime to finish Episode 7 of Twenty Five- Twenty One I would liked to take a moment to say:

Fuck you@lurkingshan for recommending this stupid fucking fencing show that keeps making me super fucking emotional in a vicious, endless cycle! How dare you make me sob in my living room at one am over a fucking referee call! I thought we were friends, how could you do this to me?!?! Do you harbor any guilt whatsoever knowing that I cried through all three of the episodes that I watched today!!

^Look at my beloved girl, look at her sobbing in the street. This is me, on my couch, right now. Look at what you have done to me!

Anyway, it may not be a BL but I do think everyone should watch Twenty Five Twenty One it is fantastic so far and it making my heart so full.

[systlinsideblog]

Part 6

There was a terrible disorientation, darkness, pressure, and then he was lying facedown on something soft. He flinched as a familiar weight thunked against the back of his thighs; his shield. His sword was still in hand; he was gripping it tightly, out of pure instinct.

Somewhere above him was movement, and the sound of a sword being half drawn, and then a gasp. He recognized the distinctive traits of all three; and decided to simply lie there a bit yet. He had a raging headache suddenly, and there was no danger he could think of that could possibly get through his wife to harm him.

“Foicatch!?” She sounded shocked. There was a soft thump as Ice hit the soft rugs beneath them, and then hands on him, on the back of his shoulders and on his cheek. “Beloved?”

“Fuck.” He said into the carpets. With some effort, he pulled himself up to his knees and took a look around, instinctively taking in his surroundings and the lay of the land.

A tent of some sort, on a wooden platform. A wagon, most likely, judging from the slight give and sway. A large camp, from the noises outside. The tent was rich; gold and jewels glittered in lamplight, and the pallet he was on was of rich, soft carpets and furs. He did not recognize any of it, but was again not surprised. Gods played games with his wife’s life, and wherever she was he knew in his bones that she’d soon rise to the top.

Quite suddenly, arms were around his neck, and Systlin was clinging to him in a bone-creaking embrace. He started, surprised; she was normally a reserved woman, but now she was acting as if she’d not seen him in weeks.

“Sys.” He said weakly. “Sys. Darling. What…”

“Is Senna all right?” She pulled back and stared at him, her eyes bright, desperate. “Is she all right?”

“Of course she is. You saw her half an hour ago.” Foicatch rubbed at his aching temples. “What the fuck was that?”

Her whole body seemed to relax, almost slumping with abject relief, and she pulled back a little, but left one hand on his knee. “For me,” she said. “It’s been three months.”

He blinked a couple of times. “What.”

“Three months.”

“How…”

“The Lady.” When he’d been a boy, he’d never dreamed that he’d ever hear someone make such a matter of fact sort of statement about the Lady, Mother of All. Let alone that he would be married to that person, and that such a statement would make utter sense. “We’re on a world called Gor.” A slight pause. “’Catch, love, you’ve no clue how happy I am to have you here. This place is a shithole.”

“It can’t be that bad.” He waved a hand around at the tent. “This seems nice.”

“I had to kill three thousand men to unfuck this one tribe.” She said bluntly. “And it’s still not really done; that was just lancing the boil. ’Catch, the men of this world are slavers. All of them, from what I can tell, or at least most. They keep women as sex toys.”

Foicatch stared at her for a solid minute or so, appalled.

“What.” He finally managed.

It took her half an hour to fill him in on the details. By the end, his headache was fading, but a second one was threatening on his heels. He’d gotten to his feet some time back, and he was incandescently furious and pacing the tent. (The Ubara’s tent. He felt a flash of pride, at that. Of course she was Ubara; queen by her own hand within a day. He’d expect nothing less of her, and marveled, again, that such a woman as her had chosen him.)

He stopped his pacing long enough to touch her face, to brush her plait back. “You said you killed three thousand that first night.”

“Yes.” She said. The word was a flat statement of fact.

“You must have used your power.”

“Yes.” Again, a statement of fact.

“Are you all right?” He asked it softly. She never admitted to anyone else save Sura the cost of her gift for Breaking, the strain it caused when used too much. But he knew, because she trusted him.

“I am.” She covered his hand with hers. “I told you once; it gets easier to restrain it, with practice. And I’ve had a lot of practice. And the women…” She looked off, at the tent flap. “They’re remarkable. All they’ve been through, and survived. Many are brilliant, and funny, and kind, and fierce. They’ve not let me stew alone.”

He nodded, relieved. Do not let her be alone, Sura had told him once. Sura, bright, brilliant Sura, who’d realized before anyone else living what Systlin was, that there’d come a Breaker strong enough to break even her curse to her will.

They stood there for a moment. She stepped into his arms, and leaned against his chest. He looped his arms around her waist, and let her take comfort as long as she needed it.

At last, he said “So you’ve been gone months, but it’s been but moments at home.”

“Thank the gods.” Systlin’s voice was muffled by his chest. “I’ve been so, so worried, about you and Senna.”

“It’s reasonable then to assume that however long we take here, little or no time will have passed at home.”

“Thank the gods.” She said again, fervent.

“Well.” He said. “We might as well make a proper job of it then. Why don’t you show me around, Ubara?”

   He was a very tall man, broad and muscular and strong, a fighting man in true. He wore a sword and shield with the air of a man long accustomed to their use. His eyes were green, and sharp. His hair fell to his shoulders, caught back in a leather tie. His beard was braided into a short plait bound in silver.

This is a proper man, I thought, but then to my horror I saw the glint of silver in his ear.

A man….a man, a fighting man! Had allowed his ear to be pierced! It was shameful, beyond shameful.

The she-sleen emerged from the wagon behind him. She said something, and he turned to listen. I realized that the ring in his ear was a twin to the silver one she wore, and in a flash realized that this was her mate, the one she’d claimed to be bonded to.

He laughed at something she said, and she grinned at him.

 I thought that I had seen the she-sleen fight, that day she had slain Kamchak, Ubar of the Tuchuks.

I had not. Not truly. I had realized, of course, that she had been toying with him, toying with a Tuchuk, known as the fiercest and cleverest of warriors. But I had not known, not really, what she was.

I stared as she sparred the man…her husband, it still was a thing of horror to think of bedding such a woman, but if there was a man to master such a woman then I could believe it of this man.

He was magnificent. It was hot; he had stripped to his waist, baring a marvelously formed body to the sun. There were scars here and there, showing that he was a fighting man and had won many battles. His eyes were fierce and keen, and he wielded that metal shield and his sword as easily and lightly as if they were wooden toys, muscles rippling under taut bronze skin. He was fast, as fast as a snake, and his footwork was superb. Any city would have been honored to have a fighting man such as he in their ranks; I am man enough to admit that in battle he could have bested me, and it would have been no shame to lose to such a superb warrior.

But then there was her.

He was magnificent, the pinnacle of what a fighting man strives to be. And out of the three bouts I saw them fight, he lost two.

He was fast. But she was like the speed of a falcon bound into the body of a woman, and made the swordplay look almost as a dance. She would, I thought, have been magnificent in dancing silks.

She flowed like water around strikes. She was, quite nimbly, never where a strike seemed to go, and used her blades with the precision of a physician excising a tumor. Her stamina seemed boundless; indeed, even under the heat of the sun she was not even sweating.

The first match ended after what seemed an impossibly long time to hold out against either of those displays of masterful swordsmanship, with his sword at her breast. My heart soared; surely, I thought, now he would put her in her place, teach her what it meant that he was a man, and she but a female…

But it did not happen. She laughed, and he grinned, a brilliant flash of white teeth.

“See what I mean?” She said, and rolled her shoulders, stepping back. “I’ve needed this. There’s no one here who can really test me, and I’ve been getting sloppy.”

The comment stung; she’d faced the whole of the Tuchuk, and me, a warrior of Ko-Ro-Ba!

He snorted. “The Lady should have brought Stellead here if that was what you needed; a training dummy and someone to teach.”

“Hm.” She gave him a look out of the corner of her eye that shocked me; it was playful, and warm, and very unlike the coldness she usually showed. I wondered if there was a slave under that armor after all, but then of course that could not be; no self respecting man would let a woman who was his slave on the couches and in the furs carry on so in public. “No, I think I’m glad. You are much better looking.”

“Well.” He smiled again. “With all due respect to your lovely and very terrifying aunt, I must agree.”

There were more like her? The thought was horrific. But then they crossed swords again, and I could only watch.

She won that second bout, and the third. At the end of the third, they were staring at each other with a particular heat in their eyes that I knew well; I have seen lust, in many forms.

I was shocked again when she grasped the end of the short plait of his beard, pulled his head down with no great gentleness, and kissed him as thoroughly and passionately as a slave girl might.

I had thought that she must be frigid, in denial of her own womanhood, wishing to be a man and putting from her head all thought of licentiousness and lust. And yet here I saw her, dusty from the training ring, her sword still in her hand, still as unyielding as steel, her movements and body language all sureness and authority, and kissing like a passion slave.

It was shocking, as well; she was demanding of him, not begging, and instead of silks she was attired entirely unflatteringly in leather and wool. And yet somehow the magnificent warrior seemed as enthusiastic about this embrace as a Gorean man with a pleasure slave at his mercy.

She pulled back, but did not let go of his beard or break eye contact. “My tent, I think.” Her voice was all anticipation. “You can leave the boots on.”

“Only if you leave the sword belt on.” He took her hand, and they were gone.

A wagon is not really the most sound-proof of dwellings. Out of some terrible fascination, I drifted towards the wagon of the Ubara.

The noises were loud, and enthusiastic. They lasted quite some time. At times, it sounded as if a pitched battle was taking place within the wagon. It was, indeed, some hour and a half before the she-sleen emerged at last from the wagon. She looked quite pleased with herself. Her hair had been freshly plaited, and she was wearing new clothing. She headed off again towards the training fields, humming some tuneless little song to herself.

Foicatch exited the wagon some time later. He looked the way that a man only does after he has been well and thoroughly pleased. He had put on a tunic, but it was not laced up the front, and his magnificent musculature was still visible through the thin cloth anyways. He was eating a sar fruit. There were imprints of small, even teeth several places on his neck, I saw, and scratch marks down one forearm. He seemed equally pleased with himself.

He saw me staring, and gave me a wide grin. It was quite a smug grin.

“Jealous?” He laughed quietly, drew another sar fruit from his belt pouch, and tossed it my way; I caught it on reflex. “Can’t say I blame you. She’s magnificent, isn’t she?” He looked off in the direction of the practice rings, his expression fond.

“I would think,” I said. “That in going to bed with such a creature, you would risk death should you be found wanting.”

“Oh.” His grin grew wider. “Well, that’s gotten around already? It’s true, actually. She does kill lovers she finds unsatisfying.”

“Foicatch!” A sharp voice, as the she-sleen appeared again, and shook her head at her mate. “You are terrible.”

“Likes to nail the skulls up in the bedroom, just for motivation to any new ones.”

“Foicatch!”

“What? I’m only adding to your legend.”

She rolled her eyes, and gave him a look that was both fond and exasperated. “Terrible.” She vanished back into the wagon. “The council will be here soon to discuss strategy for gathering resources on the migration route. There’s many small towns and cities along the way, and I don’t intend to leave a single whip unburnt in our path.”

“And before you ask,” Foicatch said, as she vanished. “Yes, we’ve been married for thirty years.” A self satisfied grin. “Take from that what you will.”

I stared at him.

“What? Shut your mouth before a bird nests in there, man.”

“You…” I struggled for words. “But you are…you’re a red-blooded fighting man!”

A slight shrug. “Last time I checked, yes.” He finished the fruit.

“And you let your woman be…that?”

“Ah.” His expression shifted in a moment, going dark. “Right.” He gave me a disgusted sort of look. “To begin, there’s nothing on this world or any other that could make Systlin be anything but whatever she wishes to be; she’s herself, and that is why I love her.” The frown deepened. “Just because you lot on this world can only handle women fawning at your feet and fearing for their lives if they say one word against you, doesn’t mean we’re all such cowards on all worlds.”

That struck me deeply. I am many things, but a coward I have never been! I am a fighting man of Ko-Ro-Ba! I am a fighting man of Gor, where the strong rule!

“I am no coward!” I hissed, and had taken a step towards him before I knew it.

“Mmm.” He sounded unconvinced, and was entirely unconcerned at my anger. “Right. That’s why you keep women in chains.” He straightened a bit. I am a tall man, but he was taller, and I had to look up to stare angrily at him. Quite suddenly, in a flash, I wondered if this was how a slave girl felt, before a warrior such as myself, having to tilt her head back to look up at him. “Just because none of you can get a woman without buying her like a horse, chaining her to your bed, and beating her into submission…On my world, such a man would be ridiculed at the least and most pathetic of men.” A pause. “Well, and then executed. But also ridiculed.”

I stared. I had never heard it put so. “They are just women. They deserve no better”

I saw the blow coming, and moved to avoid it, but he was terribly quick and I was still recovering my full fitness since my broken leg. The strike across the face was sudden and sharp, and to my humiliation I realized that I had not been struck with a closed fist, as befitted a warrior, but backhanded like I was a misbehaving slave.

“Did that hurt?” His voice was low, and I realized that he was terribly angry. “Would you like it, to spend your life cringing, waiting for that at any moment because you did not stand correctly? It is braver, I think, to survive such a life than to be the monster who holds the other end of the chain. You are a coward, Tarl Cabot, and every man on this world is a coward if he thinks as you do. If you are afraid of women holding any role but your slaves, that is your failing, not that of men of other worlds.”

He spat in the dust at my feet. “Systlin said the men of this world were awful.” A shake of his head. “I didn’t realize how very much she was right. Go. Get away from this wagon. If I see you again today I might have to throttle you to death.” He turned, and ducked once more into the tent.

[evienyx]

DSMP Citizens POV 7: The Lonesome Vessel

DSMPsona created by anon

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DSMP Citizen POV Masterlist

DSMPsona Submission Rules

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Before the L'Manburg Revolution, Iris had never really bothered with combat. She'd taken her physical education classes at school as a kid, had done a few extra sword-training classes as a teenager when her mother put her into them, but other than that, there wasn't really anything.

When the Revolution happened, though, Iris, who had already joined up with the rebellion when it was just starting out, took up arms at General Wilbur Soot's call and went out to the battle field, her heart pounding and blade sharp.

As she stepped onto the battlefield, entering into her first bout of combat with one of Dream's soldiers, something within her changed. Voices chanted in her head, screaming their desire to be appeased, one that could only be fulfilled by the spilling of blood.

Death, Death, Death!

Blood, Blood, Blood!

Blood for the Blood God!

Iris roared and slashed wildly at whoever she saw. Power thrummed in her veins, blood splashing across her armor and voices screaming in her ears as it did.

A soldier in L'Manburg colors ran past her. The voices screamed even louder, and Iris thrust her sword forward.

A moment later, she was lying in the medical tent that had been set up at the edge of the battlefield. Curtains shielded her from the rest of the tent. Her mind was deafeningly silent.

Iris realized that her limbs were restrained, her armor and weapons gone. Her throat was dry and her head pounded.

After a few minutes, the curtain pulled back, and a man in a medical coat peeked inside.

"You're awake?"

Iris locked gazes with him and nodded.

The doctor glanced outside before giving her a nod of his own and closing the curtain. She was alone again.

About ten more minutes passed before the curtain opened again and General Soot stepped inside.

"Sir," Iris said, trying to sit up before remembering the restraints.

"Iris," Soot replied, sounding even more exhausted than he looked. "How are you feeling?"

She swallowed. Her throat hurt, and when she spoke, it was hoarse, as if she had screamed at a concert all night. "Tired." She scrunched her nose. "My arms hurt."

Soot's lips formed into a thinner line and he nodded. "Yes, well, you were swinging that sword quite a bit."

Iris furrowed her brow. "What're you talking about?"

The general sighed. "I was afraid of that." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before meeting her gaze. "What do you remember about the battle?"

"Uh, nothing, really. I... fought a few people, I think, and then I guess I must've been knocked unconscious."

Soot's eyes were hard, but sad. "You were not. You lasted through the whole battle."

"What happened, then?"

Soot was silent.

Iris narrowed her eyes and pressed on. "What happened?"

"You were like a machine, Iris," Soot explained. "No one... No one could quite describe it. You cut down every person in your path, whether they were enemy or ally." Iris's heart sank and her blood ran cold. "Can you remember anything else? I need to know."

"Uh..." Iris wracked her brain for answers, but her head was still pounding, aching from the screams of the voices in her mind. "I mean... There were... voices. Voices, in my head? They... They wanted me to kill people."

Soot, as if his attention hadn't already been completely on her, leaned in, his eyes widening just a bit. "Voices?" She nodded. He grabbed her by the forearms, turning her toward him a bit more, despite the restraints digging into her flesh as he did so. "What did they say? Do you remember what they said?"

"Uh..." Iris nodded shakily, her heart pounding in her chest. "Yeah. They... They talked about the, er, the Blood God? Like what people always call Technoblade, you know, the famous warrior?"

Soot's eyes seemed to glaze over for a moment before he leaned back and nodded. "Yes, I know." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Iris... I'm not going to sugarcoat this for you. I think that we have every reason to believe that you are a vessel of the Blood God."

A chill ran down her spine. "What... What does that-"

"People often believe that Technoblade is a vessel of the Blood God, as well. He is not. He is the chosen of the Blood God. Those voices you heard while you were fighting? He hears those all the time, screaming for blood, and apparently being rather annoying as well."

Despite the bombshell being dropped on her, Iris managed to focus on his words and ask, "How do you know all this stuff about Technoblade?"

"Lived with him for years," Soot said, waving his hand around. "Not important. What is important is this: Controlling the desires of the Blood God that are within you is going to be difficult. Many go mad trying to fight against them. As you are simply a vessel, those voices will only come out when you are actively in combat, but they will never go away. If you plan to continue to fight, you must learn to live with them. We cannot have a repeat of the last battle, where you kill many of our own troops, as well."

Iris swallowed and nodded. "I'll do better next time, sir."

Soot cracked a smile, the bags more apparent than ever. "I'm sure of it."

During the next battle, Iris held her weapon in her hand, slashed at the first enemy soldier that she encountered, and then found herself restrained in the medical tent once more, President Soot standing over her with eyes even more sunken than the day before.

Iris felt tears spring to her eyes and shoved her head back into the pillow beneath her.

"You'll always have a home here," General President Soot told her after the Revolution ended, L'Manburg gained independence, and Iris had decided to pack up and leave. "Regardless of what happened on the battlefield, you still fought for this country. No one blames you for what happened." He paused and released a sigh. "The Blood God is as ruthless with its Vessels as it is with us mortals."

Iris huffed. "You don't need to tell me twice." Her thoughts fell to the voices, screaming in her mind.

Death, Death, Death!

Blood, Blood, Blood!

Blood for the Blood God!

She shuddered and glanced up at President Soot. "I need to leave. As long as I am here, people are in danger. The voices showed up the moment I picked up a weapon. If something were to happen, there would be nothing I could do, nothing anyone could do." She ran a hand through her hair and shook her head. "It's better this way."

President Soot was silent for a moment before nodding solemnly. "That's what I thought you'd say. Still, should you ever wish to return, the gates of L'Manburg will open wide to those who fought for them to stay standing."

Iris cracked a smile and nodded. President Soot returned the gesture before stepping out of the tent that she had been staying in. Iris tied the sack that held all the things she couldn't fit in her inventory and set off. She made a quick pit stop at the Pet Sanctuary, an underground bunker that had held the pets of all L'Manburg soldiers during the war, keeping them safe and protected from both battle and Sapnap, who was both their enemy and infamous for killing pets.

Iris grabbed her cat, Tabi, and pulled an empty beehive from her inventory to allow her bee, Honeycomb, to travel in safety and comfort. Finally, she set off, her fingers tightly wound in a lead attached to Tabi's collar, Honeycomb's hive tucked into her inventory. Iris gave a final wave to the soldiers standing guard at the L'Manburg walls and began to walk.

After fifteen minutes, she was at the top of a hill, looking down over the independent land of L'Manburg. Already, there were more people than had been during the Revolution, people from the Greater SMP and other servers having begun to move in.

After another half-hour, L'Manburg was barely visible in the distance.

Fifteen more minutes after that, and it was gone completely.

Reaching the edge of the charted land on her map, Iris pulled a boat from her inventory, setting it up while Tabi investigated a small patch of wildflowers growing nearby. Iris picked up her cat and plopped the animal between her legs as she sat down in the boat. Making sure she had everything, Iris used a stick to push off from the shore and set off into the ocean.

She followed the coast, mostly. Eventually, she reached a grassy plain that seemed to stretch on for as far as her eye could see. As the sun began to set, she finally pulled up onto a small beach just outside of a coastal village. She stored her boat, held Tabi's lead in her hand, and set off into the village.

The town was small enough that they didn't have an inn, but a farmer and his wife were nice enough to allow her to bunk in the barn for the night to avoid the monsters, and Iris fell asleep to the sound of an Iron Golem guard pummeling a zombie into dust.

Another day of boating passed before Iris settled on a small clearing a little ways into a spruce forest island to call her new home. Tabi's lead tied around a tree, she quickly set to work making a small tent to stay in while she worked on a more permanent home. A few weeks passed, but she was rather satisfied with her work as she took down the tent and spent her first official night in her new cottage. Tabi curled up on her chest, Honeycomb resting in her hive in the small garden she had made, Iris fell asleep to the sounds of rustling leaves, flickering torches, and distant waves crashing against a rocky shore.

Iris would spend a lot of her time exploring, after that, hopping across nearby islands. She constructed an Iron Golem to guard her clearing after a hoard of mobs appeared during the first night and she had been forced to hide under the floorboards and be as silent as possible until day arrived and they burned in the light of the sun. She refused to pick up a weapon again. The voices still stung in her mind (Blood for the Blood God!), and she didn't know what would happen if they took over again. She didn't want to know what would happen if the only thing for them to hurt were Tabi and Honeycomb.

The islands nearby varied in terms of what they had on them. Some were barren, others sported lush forests. One had a ravine so long and deep it almost cut the island itself in half. At one point, she arrived at a point that she had thought was an island, but was actually large enough to be considered mainland, stretching so far that she had to spend the night at a village after she realized that she didn't have enough time to get home before dark.

Iris mapped out the nearby islands, as well as the mainland, and explored them enough that she eventually didn't even need a map to explore them anymore. She knew them like the back of her hand.

That was why, when a small hut popped up in the stretch of plains on the coast of the mainland, she was confused. It was night, then, and she was making her way to the nearby village to stay in the inn. This was too interesting to pass up investigating, though, and Iris snuck over and leaned against one of the hut walls, straining to hear what was happening inside.

"-and I have no idea why he did it, because wasn't the whole point that there's-"

"Someone's listening."

"...What?"

"Someone's listening."

"What are you talking about?"

"Through the wall. Right here. Someone's listening." There was a beat of silence, and then a rush of cold air that made the hairs on the back of Iris's neck stand up, and then she was face-to-face with eyes void of anything but inky darkness, set into the grayed-out version of a familiar face. Bright blue teartracks seemed stained on the colorless skin.

"Hello," an echoed voice that almost exactly matched President Soot's said. "Who are you?"

Iris yelped and fell back, barely catching herself against the hut before she hit the ground.

"Ghostbur? Who is it?"

TommyInnit (VP Tommy, she remembered people had started to call him) asked, stepping around the corner of the hut to join the two of them.

"VP Tommy?" She blurted out. "What are you doing here?"

VP Tommy furrowed his brow. "What are you talking about? I was exiled. What are you doing here?"

"I...I live around here! And, what do you mean you were exiled? And why does President Soot look like that? And why did you call him Ghostbur?"

"That's who I am!" The spectral form of the leader of L'Manburg said cheerily. He reached out a translucent hand. "Ghostbur, nice to meet you!"

"We've met," Iris said, still reaching out to shake his hand anyway. His skin was freezing cold, and she though that if she pressed a bit more, her hand would simply slide right through his own.

"He has memory loss," VP Tommy said. "Only remembers the happy things from when he was alive. None of the bad stuff."

"What happened to him? When did he die?"

"A while ago," VP Tommy said, looking rather confused at her lack of knowledge but still managing to glare at her throughout. "How is it you know who both of us are but not what happened to..." His throat bobbed and he glanced away, falling silent.

"I fought in the L'Manburg Revolution," Iris explained. "At least, I did for a bit until President Soot-" She gestured at the grinning ghost- "and I realized that I was a Vessel for the Blood God. I can't control myself whenever I pick up a weapon, and so I moved out here to keep from hurting anyone."

VP Tommy leaned back a bit, his eyes widening. "You're a Vessel of the Blood God?" He asked, his voice sounding a bit hoarse. She nodded. His eyes flicked over her. "You're... You don't have any weapons on you, do you?"

Iris ignored the fact that she had already said that she didn't in favor of shaking her head and raising her hands a bit. "Nope. Nothing. I haven't touched a weapon since the Revolution."

"How do you defend from mobs then?" He asked, his brow scrunching as he crossed his arms.

"I'm normally home before night. If not, I make sure I'm close enough to a village to stay there. At home, everything's lit up, and I even have an Iron Golem to make sure that any stray monsters can be taken down without me having to do anything." She offered the gentlest smile she could. "You don't need to worry about me."

VP Tommy was quiet for a moment before releasing a forced laugh. "Ha, I wasn't worried! I'm never worried! I'm Big Man TommyInnit, I don't get worried about anything!"

Iris raised an eyebrow but she nodded. "Of course. I never would've thought otherwise."

VP Tommy wrinkled his nose and looked to the ground. A moment later, she heard him muffling a yawn.

"Well," Iris said loudly, stretching her arms toward the sky, "I think it's about time that I head off to the village and get settled in for the night. I'm exhausted." She saluted lazily. "Good night, VP Tommy."

"Uh, yeah. 'Night." He didn't return the gesture, but he glanced at Ghostbur, who was fiddling with what looked like a handful of blue and clearly not paying attention to the conversation whatsoever. "C'mon, Ghostbur."

The spirit of the president looked up abruptly, turning from VP Tommy to Iris. "Oh, are you leaving already?" She nodded. He gave her a smile. "Good night, then! I hope next time I get to find out your name!"

Before she could say anything, he had slid through the hut's wall and was gone. VP Tommy stood there for a moment more before disappearing inside as well. Iris hitched up the straps of her bag on her shoulders, checked her inventory, and set off for the village at the edge of the plains. She didn't want to be out in the dark for too long.

The next morning, Iris left the village inn an hour before noon, her bag and inventory stuffed full of ore that she had purchased from the blacksmith.

As she walked through the plains, she stumbled across a figure riding by on a horse. The two of them stopped and stared at one another.

"Uh, hello," Iris said, raising a hand in greeting. "Haven't seen you around here before."

"I'm not from around here," the figure, a piglin hybrid, from the look of it, said gruffly. "Was just visiting an... old friend."

Iris nodded. "Cool. Well, if you're ever in the area again, the village back by the forest edge has incredible potato bread."

The hybrid's eyes lit up a bit. "Really?" She nodded. "I'll have to check it out, then." He observed her for a moment before raising an eyebrow. "Who are you?"

She cracked a smile. "Just a lonesome wanderer, trying to live a peaceful life."

He nodded. "I can respect that. As long as you're not with any sort of government."

She shook her head. "I used to be a part of L'Manburg, but I left right after the Revolution. I... didn't want to be a part of that anymore. Now, it's just me and my pets."

The hybrid hummed, his gaze flicking over her and seeming to notice that she had no weapons. "All right, then." He gave her a nod. "Stay safe, fellow wanderer."

She grinned and returned the gesture. "And you as well." He patted the horse on its flank, and a moment later, they were gone.

Continuing across the plains, Iris came back across the hut that VP Tommy was living in. She thought the ore in her bag and wondered if the teenager, who was apparently exiled (though she didn't know why) would want it.

Iris knocked on the door. There was a beat of silence. Then, the door swung open, and she was met with the face of VP Tommy, eyes red and face blotchy. He sniffed, rubbed at his nose, and scowled at her. "What do you want, bitch?"

Ignoring his aggression, Iris offered a smile and said, "I come bearing gifts."

Though he complained, VP Tommy did agree to take the ores from her, shoving them into his furnace along with some coal that he had apparently gotten that morning. Then, with his eyes narrowed and mouth twisted into a frown, he offered her a porkchop.

Iris started to visit him more and more, after that. She brought Tabi to the village's healer when the cat got sick one day, and that evening showed her pet to VP Tommy on the way home.

"This is Tabi," she said, holding out the cat to the teenager. VP Tommy stared at the cat with raised eyebrows. "Go on, take her. She loves being pet behind the ears."

VP Tommy took the cat in his arms, holding it with a surprising amount of caution. He reached forward and scratched slowly behind Tabi's ear. The cat purred and leaned into the touch. VP Tommy's eyes flew up to meet Iris's as his jaw dropped, and she couldn't help but let out a laugh at his reaction.

Over the time that she visited him, Iris watched as VP Tommy (My name is Tommy, shithead, he insisted after she called him by his old title to his face) deteriorated. His laughs were more forced. His face was more sunken, his hair grew limp, and his the light in his eyes dimmed, the bright blue seeming to fade into a cool gray. Still, he would grin every time she showed up, and would bounce on the balls of his feet as he told her about what he had done since her last visit.

"Ranboo came to visit me," he said one day. "He showed up after Schlatt and Wilbur died and L'Manburg was rebuilt. He's cool, even though he's kind of a pussy."

"Does anyone else come to visit?" She asked, poking at the fire that he had made when the sun began to set.

"Well, Dream is here all the time," he said, but she already knew that. About a week after she started visiting regularly, he had all-but-demanded that she only visit at night, because Dream was there in the daylight and didn't really like when he had other visitors there. "Mexican Dream came here one time, too, but..." Tommy sniffed. "He, uh, he died."

"Oh," Iris said. "I'm sorry."

On certain days, she would let Tommy ramble to her about his problems. He would complain about the 16th of November, about the election from months ago, about his exile from weeks prior. Other days, he would tour her around the things he was building.

"This is Logstedshire," he said, spreading his arms wide. "Ghostbur helped me build it, before he..." His smile faltered. "Before he... left."

She said nothing more, simply pointed at a random building and asked about it. Tommy took the change of topic gratefully and began to ramble on about the mining expedition he had gone on to get the materials.

One day, when Iris was on the way to the village past Logshedshire to trade before she visited Tommy that evening, she looked up from storing away her boat to see the Nether portal just outside of Tommy's home glimmering with particles, the distinct look of a portal that someone had just used.

Iris was confused for a moment, because she was sure that Tommy didn't use his portal anymore, not after the failed beach party (which he had requested she didn't attend, since he didn't think that Dream would like knowing that Tommy was talking with someone he didn't know. Iris still felt bad, though, after hearing about the disaster that befell the party that her teenager friend had been so very excited about).

Then, she looked up and her eyes fell on a tower of mismatched materials, stretching toward the sky. Her stomach dropped, and, ignoring her previous plans, she scrambled up the beach and sprinted toward Logstedshire.

The area was completely destroyed, decimated by what had to be TNT. The tower she had seen started near the pit, reaching to brush against low-hanging clouds in the expanse of sky above. Tommy was nowhere to be seen.

Nearby, Iris abruptly noticed, President Tubbo stood looking up at the tower, shaking his head desperately with tears streaking down his face. "Surely not, surely not," he said lowly, his voice hoarse.

Iris's heart skipped a beat. For the first time since the Revolution, her mind was flooded with voices, screaming, roaring in her ears. She didn't care what they were saying, though, instead covering her mouth with her hands, taking in a painful breath, and beginning to sob.

President Tubbo turned to look at her, just now noticing her presence. He reached a hand out and opened his mouth to speak, but she didn't give him a chance to, instead choosing to turn on her heel and run back to the coastline, tears streaming from her eyes and all plans of heading to the village forgotten. She hopped in her boat and set off in the direction of her home island, her salty tears falling from her cheeks and joining the ocean waters below.

Iris stumbled into her cottage, Tabi moving toward her and rubbing against her leg as she collapsed into a chair, shoving her face into her hands. Her cat's fur stopped brushing against her skin, and a few moments later, a buzzing sound met her ears. She opened her eyes to see Tabi hopping from the windowsill as Honeycomb flew inside, the window wide open behind the two pets. The bee settled on her shoulder, snuggling against Iris's neck and buzzing gently, while Tabi leaped to her lap and curled up there.

Iris pet her cat with a shaking hand and tried to ignore the screaming voices growing louder and louder in her mind.

That evening, she grabbed a pack that she knew had two twin blades stored away inside of it and set off for a nearby island, one covered in a forest so dense that inside of it, you couldn't see the sky. Mobs were there even in the day time, and at night, it was more stuffed with monsters than a dungeon was.

On the edge of the island, Iris watched as a zombie lumbered toward her.

Blood! Blood!

Blood for the Blood God!

Kill it! Kill it!

Finally! Blood!

Everyone shut up, she's gonna do it!

She better!

Blood! Blood! Blood for the Blood God!

Ignoring the 'banter' going on between the voices in her head, the Vessel of the Blood God dropped the pack on the ground, pulled the twin blades from within, and let the voices take over, jumping forward and slashing at the monster in front of her. The voices cheered as blood splashed across her skin, and as her gaze fell on a skeleton near the tree line, she leaped toward it and felt her control over her body fall away.

She woke to the daylight, her cheek pressed against the warm sand of the beach. She heard the waves lapping at the shore. The twin blades she had used rested nearby. Her mind was silent, though the elation of the voices as she sliced through monsters was still very apparent. Iris sat up, grabbed the bag she had abandoned the night before, and scooped the blades inside, careful not to touch it. She then slipped into the boat and set off, leaving the island behind as she headed home.

Halfway there, she felt an alert on her communicator. Glancing down at it, she choked on a breath as her eyes landed on 'TommyInnit' in her messages lighting up. Taking in a deep breath, she clicked on the name and was greeted by a new chat message from her friend.

TommyInnit: Hey, bitch. I realized that Dream is an even Bigger Bitch Boy than I thought. He blew up Logstedshire and I ran away after he left. I'm with Technoblade, now.

TommyInnit: you were real poggers. I'll pay you back for that ore eventually.

Iris sniffed and wiped at her eyes, which were beginning to sting. She swallowed, her throat aching, and grabbed the oars resting on the sides of the boat, starting to paddle back home.

(Later that day, she would return to Logstedshire and root through the rubble for three days straight, searching for any remaining things of Tommy's that she could find.

She found a few photos buried under rocks, at one point. After the first one she touched crumbled to dust immediately, she took pictures of any she found before trying to pick them up. She found a few books that Tommy must have bought from the village. Nothing else really seemed like it would be valuable. Then, though, on her last day of searching, she broke apart a collapsed wall and saw a piece of fabric lying underneath.

She reached forward and carefully picked up the beanie lying on the ground, so covered in dust that it looked gray rather than maroon.

"This was his beanie," Tommy had said. "He had two of these. Phil has the one that he was wearing when he died. He gave this one to me right before we went to fight Manburg."

Iris's fingers tightened around the beanie, and she tucked it safely into a spare spot in her inventory before immediately heading off to the village to use their public Ender chest to put the beanie inside of.

The next time she saw TommyInnit, she would give it back to him. Afterall, he deserved to have the beanie. It was his brother's, wasn't it?

The sun was beginning to set, then.

Iris swallowed down a lump in her throat as phantom voices whispered in her mind and moved faster over the plains, focusing on making her way to the inn before nightfall and trying to ignore the murmurs in her ear asking for blood.)

[silentprincess17]

A Proposal Gone Awry

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Summary: Link has been touring the breadth and width of Hyrule to clear out the remaining monster camps, and soon enough, he reaches Zora’s Domain. Mipha asks him to wait before he heads back to the castle, which he was intending on doing... but some mischievous children may have other plans.

Thank you to @braidy-maidy, @zeldaelmo and @zeldadiarist for your help betaing!

Relationships: Link/Zelda Link/Mipha- Onesided Link & The Zora Children Mipha & Revali (Legend of Zelda)

Contains spoilers for AOC. This is my take on the Heart's Escort Mission- specifically what you get at the end of that.Basically- I turn my angst gun on another character whoopsie but I don't leave Mipha high and dry I promise!

Tags: Unrequited Love, Heartbreak, Healing, Emotional angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending

Link had just got back from the battlefield, and he’d left Mipha there, albeit reluctantly. She insisted she would be the one to check over the Zora troops, alone, “I’ll be able to heal them as I go along Link. Why don’t you go back to the Domain and rest whilst I finish up? You’re not wounded, are you?” He replied in the negative, or well, he’d shaken his head anyway. He’d remained with her still, but she’d sort of stammered for a while, something about final preparations, and it was okay for him to leave. Link wasn’t entirely sure why she didn’t want him to stay, but he hadn’t heard her clearly through what seemed to be perpetual rain on Ploymus mountain, and Mipha had become particularly jumpy around him lately, so he opted to leave her be. He just assumed she meant preparations for the healing she was going to do- and maybe that was a private thing? Or maybe she wanted to ask him to train at some point and it was preparations for that? Not that there was much need for it anymore, with the Calamity destroyed and sealed away, but he missed his childhood friend and would like to help her if she wanted it. Just before he left, she’d clutched his arm, and had asked if he could wait until dinner for her because she wanted to tell him something. He saw no reason to decline, so he’d given her a slight nod and then moved to leave.

As he meandered back through the twisting pathways, he realised that it wasn’t that late, but for some inexplicable reason he felt tired. Sunset had just fallen over the Domain, and now the luminous stones started to glow and fluoresce. It truly was a beautiful place, although… he wasn’t a huge fan of the way the water flowing the walkways had started to creep through his metal boots. He sighed, it had been a spur of the moment decision to wear his Soldier’s Armour, he had put his Champion’s Tunic through the wash multiple times since the Calamity fight and it was still drying in his Guard’s Chamber. He felt strangely bare without it, and he certainly missed the increased perception he had whilst wearing it. And, well, for other, uh, sentimental reasons. No, not because the Princess had made it for him. No. Not at all. He was pulled from his thoughts when his foot squelched uncomfortably in his now soaked socks into the metal plate of his boot. The flow of water had never been a problem as a child because he could run barefoot everywhere and no one would care, but now as the Hero it wouldn’t be seen as proper. He would have to polish them later, to avoid rust forming. And change his socks.

He slowly exhaled, it had been a long week of fighting off the remaining hordes of monsters from Calamity Ganon’s revival, today being the day that he had decided to help clear out the remnants in Zora’s Domain. It was funny, because before he wouldn’t have seen a weeklong absence from the Castle as a bad thing, but now… He blushed slightly, before shaking his head. He still had to go clean up, and then eat dinner, because by the Goddesses he was starving, and then meet Mipha… And perhaps he’d teleport back to the Central Tower and then to the Castle. Just to see her again. He missed being by her side, and it left him restless to know he wasn’t protecting her. Somehow over the course of their journey together those feelings of friendship and wanting to protect her had slowly morphed into something else. Or perhaps, he reflected, his reasoning for wanting to do those things had changed. But he could start to smell the aroma of freshly made hasty meat skewers made using the abundance of fleet lotus seeds around the Domain and Link’s stomach audibly grumbled. Ah, food was close, so he hurried the last few steps to reach the Dining Hall.

Just as he was about to go inside, four small bodies ploughed into him, and he let out a startled gasp. They tugged at his boots, and he only belatedly realised it was the members of The Big Bad Bazz Brigade. Bazz was at the forefront with the sword Link had gifted him when they were children proudly strapped to his back. The sword was barely off the ground, though, with the tip jutting into the passageway with every jump he made.

“LINK!” Bazz shouted, a huge smile plastered across his face.

“Hey Link!” Rivan jostled with Bazz and they flailed their arms at each other, with both of them gripping one of his legs. Link looked down and wasn’t sure what to do exactly. Did he try to separate them? Or peel them off him? He couldn’t help but smile at their antics though.

“You’re coming down to our Domain an awful lot recently, aren’t you?” Gaddison, The Heroine, had both hands on her hips but then moved to pull the two squabbling friends off his poor boots. He hadn’t realised how heavy Zoran children were.

Behind them shyly stood Sidon, he was smaller than all of them, and he gripped his Lightscale Trident with shaking hands.

Link nodded at Gaddison, pointed back towards the mountain where the monsters had been. She nodded sagely, understanding what he meant. Link moved to pick up Sidon, he hadn’t been allowed to join Bazz’s group because he was too young, but he still followed them everywhere. Actually, he tried so hard to prove his worth to be allowed in, he’d even climbed Ploymus mountain to face the Lynel there in an effort to prove his courage. Link found him to be adorable, Sidon reminded him of what he was like at that age, keen to please and prove he was capable, but too reckless for his own good. Sidon smiled his trademark smile and wrapped both arms around Link’s neck. Link smiled; aw he was so cute.

“Hey Link! When will you go swimming up the waterfall with us? You’re older now right, do you have your scales yet?” Rivan asked.

He shook his head. He didn’t have scales, and he wouldn’t ever get them because he wasn’t Zoran.

“HE’S A HYLIAN you ninny! He’s not a Zora! He won’t ever get scales like we will!” Ah Gaddison, ever the voice of reason in the group of rowdy boys. She mothered them all, he could remember that from when he used to play at the Domain, and she sprouted logic that the Zora-equivalent of a ten-year-old Hylian probably shouldn’t have, but who was he to judge.

Rivan looked traumatised. “So, we can never swim up the waterfall with Link then?”

“NO.” She paused, “Well, unless someone gives him armour with their scale on it.”

Bazz shoved his shoulder into hers, “Why don’t you do it then?”

She shoved him back, doubly hard, so much so that he ended up slipping in the water and skidding onto his bum. Link suppressed a bout of laughter at his enraged face. “Do I look like I have a White Scale yet Bazz? I can’t give him one if I don’t have one myself!” She bent down and whacked his arm again. “AND ANYWAY, did you not listen to the history lessons we’ve had- you only give your scale to the person you want to marry, basically as an engagement present.” She fluffed her fins around, “And I guess by association love.” She shuddered, “What a disgusting concept. Imagine loving a boy. How desperate do you have to be?”

Link suddenly felt ridiculously embarrassed. He tried going to the shop on the way here, but they didn’t sell the actual chest plate part of the Zora armour and had looked at him strangely when he’d showed them the Greaves and Helm he already had and pointed at his chest. Then again, maybe he should have actually voiced it. He found it bizarre, considering all the other races seemed fine with selling their complete armour sets. He chalked it off as just a Zora thing. But now he knew better. Farore, he had been such an idiot. How had he apparently missed this piece of information? He hadn’t known the Zora Armour was only given as an engagement gift! And to someone you loved no less. No wonder the staff in the shop had looked at him as if he had grown an extra head!

Bazz looked sheepish, scratching the back of his head. “Well, that was the girl side of things, Heroine.”

Rivan looked confused, “Then you don’t love Link?”

Gaddison blushed bright red, “NOT IN THAT WAY! And I’m only 52! That’s not appropriate at all!” She punched them both, “Do you not remember anything about our plan?”

Bazz scratched his chin. “We want to go swimming up the waterfall.”

Gaddison took a deep breath. “Well done, Bazz, son of Seggin. That’s the whole point of this venture, none of the adults will let us go on the waterfall by ourselves because we aren’t that strong.” She huffed and sat down, her legs crossed and both hands holding her face up in what Link recognised as classic-moody-child-face, “We just need some supervision is all. That is what Link would have been ideal for, but he doesn’t have the armour, it was a longshot really.”

Rivan piped up. “WAIT I remember now! Wasn’t this to do with Kodah?”

Up until that point, Link had been watching the three of them squabbling with amusement mostly. He’d been surprised with the revelation of the Zora Armour but how was he supposed to know the intricacies of Zora… courting (?) rituals. It struck him as weird that they hadn’t changed a single bit since when he was a child and when he played with them. Although, it made sense, that they had remained children whilst he had matured, because Hylians aged much faster compared to the Zora. As soon as Kodah was brought up though, he winced. He could still hear her screeching LINNY when he had walked into the Domain with the Princess who had come to recruit Mipha as a champion. It had been mortifying.

Gaddison sighed. “Yes, she said she was making the armour for a Hylian remember! And then that gossip that my mother heard that she was in fact going to propose to the Hero? In case you’ve been living under a rock- that Hero is sitting right there!” She pointed at him, and Link went red-faced, his eyebrows raised high. Oh, thank the Goddesses Kodah hadn’t done anything. He had no idea what he’d even say. How had she ever thought he’d agree anyway- it wasn’t like he’d talked to her properly since when he was four! But then, time passed differently for the Zora… “I thought she would have given it to him by now.” She huffed, “We should have realised that flaw in our plan.”

Bazz was uncharacteristically silent as the three of them sulked over not being able to go up the waterfall. Link felt bemused that all of their extensive planning was over this armour that apparently a lover, in this case Kodah, was meant to give to their loved one (him haha what a joke) so that he could wear said engagement gift and take them to the waterfall. He shook his head, children’s priorities and means to achieve those were always… entertaining to listen to. Bazz suddenly perked up, “Baby Prince!” Sidon looked up from where he had been resting his head on Link’s shoulder. “Didn’t you go blabbing around the other day to the King that Princess Mipha was making someone armour?”

Rivan enthusiastically nodded, “YEAH- you said that King Dorephan was worried about it, so he commi-ssioned someone to get the materials, and he gave them the Zora Greaves!”

Link swallowed; he had a small inclination of where things were going but he wasn’t sure. He pulled out the Greaves anyway and after a round of ohs and ahs, a hushed silence fell over the group, everyone watching Sidon as the small red spots on his cheeks flared a darker red. He sucked in a small breath and slowly nodded.

Bazz nodded, and immediately stood up. “This is a mission for the The Big Bad Bazz Brigade. We hereby announce that we will go searching for this Armour- this is your pre-pre-liminary mission, Rookie Comrade Sidon. We cannot go find Kodah’s armour because we have no clue where it is so that would waste valuable time, but you know where Mipha’s is don’t you?”

Sidon nodded, much more enthusiastically this time. Link held his hands up, trying to get them to stop.

Gaddison stood up then, “Wait, what if she made it for a Zora?”

Bazz shook his head, “We’ll make do. You want to go swimming tonight, don’t you Heroine?”

Link was vehemently shaking his head, and opened his mouth, but the words died in his throat. What were they doing? What was he agreeing to?! No, he had to say something, he might not know much about courting rituals, but he didn’t want to wear something meant as a present for an engagement!

“Hey!” They all looked at him, “Is this… okay?”

“We need to ask Comrade Gaddison for that information because we, ahem, didn’t, uh, study the particulars.”

Gaddison paused. “Well, I don’t really know. Do you just propose once in your life and that’s it? I mean technically the scales grow back right? It’s not like you have a gaping hole in your chest. And really, everyone seems to be making one at the minute, so it probably doesn’t hold all that fancy meaning anymore. And Lord Jabu Jabu knows we have so many traditions that no one other than the oldies bother with.”

Rivan piped up, “Princess Mipha is nice too, so she won’t mind right?”

Gaddison nodded, “True, and theoretically, we’re just borrowing it. It’s not like Link here will take it forever or something. It’s just so we can practise going up the waterfall a few times on our own, and then we’ll give it back. She probably won’t even know we’ve taken it!” She shook her head, “I surmise no issues Comrade Bazz. We may proceed.”

“Comrade Rivan?”

“Sounds good! It means we can swim with Link, right?”

Bazz sighed, “Yes it does. Good so, last person, Comrade Link?”

Link blinked. This whole situation had gone from zero to one hundred so fast. He wasn’t even sure what he was consenting to, and he was really confused. Did this armour really matter to the Zora? Apparently, it did to the shop keepers, but maybe he’d just confused them? That was highly likely considering he hadn’t even said anything to begin with. And Kodah had made him one and he’d last seen her when he was four- she couldn’t genuinely believe he would agree to marry her right? But even ignoring that, it made the whole thing seem a bit like a joke- surely the Armour doesn’t mean that much if you’d make it for someone who you haven’t talked to in years? Plus, the way Gaddison was talking, and she was really the only source of actual knowledge on the topic, made it seem like it was something all the Zora did in their spare time. But stealing Mipha’s potentially specific armour for her future husband? That felt really wrong. And he knew Mipha was a very serious person, not at all like Kodah, so he had a feeling this meant more to her. Plus, why exactly was he agreeing - because the kids wanted to go surfing vertically? That just felt ridiculous. He shook his head. No. He wasn’t going to ruin Mipha’s gift for her, um, future husband. It’s not what friends would do.

Bazz’s eyes widened, “Please Link. You don’t… play with us anymore. I know you’re all grown up, and you have like responsi-si-”

“Responsibilities you fool.”

“What she said!” and then Bazz opened up his pouch, “AND we got you a gift! Your favourite from the Domain, Hearty Salmon Meuniere!”

Link sighed, about to decline, but his stomach rumbled again and Bazz shoved the plate into his hand. He always was too susceptible to food. And, they made a valid point. He hadn’t spent much time with them lately and they seemed desperate to go up a waterfall. Maybe this was a Zora rite of passage- he knew when he was younger, he’d been desperate to duel with soldiers, but everyone had laughed at him because he was so young. Perhaps this was the same for them. And who was he kidding- he just couldn’t say no. Especially to food children. And he couldn’t deny a small part of him was intrigued as to what the Zora Armour looked like after all. It was the last one he had yet to collect, having received the Greaves from who he now knew was the king, and the Helm from when Mipha had been recruited. So, even though he felt like it was probably not the right thing to do, he agreed, the reckless and hungry side won out. “One ride up the waterfall. And then we return the Armour.”

A series of exclamations and happy cries of “YES! LET’S GO!” rang out through the Domain.

Next (Part 2)

[faetalwords]

Summer Rains and Old Pains

It took four years for Lambert to admit that the Cat wasn’t just an acquaintance. It took two more before he acknowledged that in so many words. He would never know when he fell in love with him.It took six months for Aiden to stop sleeping with one eye open - the wolf didn’t have the patience for a long con. It took two years for him to start calling the wolf “his friend” at the Caravan. It took two more for him to think that he might be a little bit in love with him. It would be a decade before they kissed for the first time.

It was a delicate game that they played, dancing on a knife’s edge in barefoot summer rains.A light push in either direction would send them both into a free fall, anger and violence for months on end until they simmered and cooled enough to embrace and cling to the other’s company like a child to a blanket. A push could be as simple as a beg for another evening or as forceful as a fistfight. It was a dangerous dance that worked in their favor most days. They were determined to make it work; so it did.

* They rode at each other’s side, horses trotting along toward the next podunk little town big enough to have a decent inn. They hadn’t seen another traveler in days and even Lambert was aching for a good bed to lie in. Naturally it had to rain. “If you hadn’t insisted we check out that embankment we wouldn’t be in this mess.” Aiden grumbled, his hair was plastered to the sides of his face and neck. He should have looked like a half drowned rat... or cat. It wasn’t fair, he looked like a painting.“I’m sorry that I have some half decent morals!” He added a mutter under his breath of “Fucking Cat.” “Your morals got you a sprained ankle and no pay for a job that should have gotten us at least twenty crowns a piece, sweetheart.” He… had a point. It wasn’t even as though the drowners were near a village. They were three hours from the last washing post for Melitele’s sake. But… no. He was not admitting defeat.“Better than a dead kid next summer. Hell, what are you complaining for? You’re the one who's been bitchin’ about a bath.” “Yes. A bath. A wonderful, warm, lovely bath- not freezing rain and a muddy river. Melitele’s tits Lam!” Aiden was a good man, he was. A damn sight better than Lambert most days but the man could complain for hours . Lambert would be paying some inn keeper for a bath that evening; he simply knew it.  Even still… he reached over and flicked water from his gloves at the Cat’s face. “You’ll live.”

* “Duck!” Aiden hit the forest floor as an arrow whipped through where his neck had been just moments before. He rolled left and popped back to his feet in time to catch a bandit with his dagger, just under the man’s ribs. He made a satisfying sound when he hit the ground. Aiden didn't have time to revel in it. “Stupid thing, robbing a witcher. Robbing two? You must have been top of your class.” He spun in time to see Lambert knock the last man in the clearing unconscious before he took off into the trees. Branches broke as the archer took off post haste, seeming to realize that he was now in a very poor position. Lambert caught him before Aiden could take the first coin pouch off their would be assailants. Lambert was… harsh. He kept his gentle smiles and laughs, all his soft pieces that the world hadn’t yet managed to beat out of him close to his chest. Covered in layer upon layer of thorns and armor. He would cut his way through a hundred men before he let someone see the things he considered his weaknesses. Aiden had, somehow, managed to slip between those defenses at some point. He wasn’t sure when. Despite the rage that he carried in his chest Lambert was a good man; he didn’t take contracts on humans and he rarely killed them outright, a bit of maiming or disfigurement was well within the cards but he refused to make use of a grave. Except where Aiden was concerned. Except where the people who he loved were concerned. He’d asked, just once, why the death of a human was the line. Why after everything that life had thrown at him and all that he had done in return that was where he put the marker. Lambert had been half asleep and full of good whiskey at the time; so the answer was honest, too much so. “Cause I’ve got the upper hand no matter what. It’d be like beating on a woman or hitting a kid and I ain’t got any plans on being like my father. That’s if it’s jus’ me though. They wanna hurt someone else and I’m not going to let them get on with that. Might as well put those damn trials to some fuckin' use...” In the morning he hadn’t acknowledged the information he’d so trustingly laid at Aiden’s feet; and they went on with their lives. Lambert came back then with a recently cleaned steel sword. “They ruined my good boots.” “We’ll get you new ones.” Aiden promised. “I’m holding you to that.” A calloused hand was offered to him and Aiden placed his own within it. On his feet he stepped into the wolf’s space, using their clasped hands to pull him into a one armed hug. He ran his hand over the wolf's back for both comfort and to ensure there were no injuries he needed to patch. “Least I can do for you saving my ass.”

* They tumbled into bed together for the first time after a bar fight. It wasn’t a bed really; it was a bedroll laid beneath an overhang of rock and they were both too keyed up from their frantic flight out of town to make anything last long. Lambert had a black eye and Aiden had a split lip that protested every harsh kiss pressed against it but neither witcher cared. Pain was routine, a small price for the love and the pleasure- the oh so fucking finally feeling of giving in to what they wanted. With fumbling hands they brought each other off. Aiden slung a heavy arm over the wolf’s waist and tensed when Lambert’s hand circled his wrist, well expecting to have it tossed aside with a complaint about cuddling like he had in every inn they’d shared a bed within before. He didn’t though. Aiden woke the next morning with his arm still firmly in place. The grumbling about ‘disgusting dried fluids’ was even worth it.

* Lambert was in a mood. The birds were too loud, the flowers that bloomed alongside the road were too cloying, and the sun was too damn bright. Even Aiden, the only person on the planet that could stand his company more than a few hours, was distancing himself on their trek. The contract was for a pair of griffins, easy enough, but the alderman had smelled of cheap liquor and the look in his eye said that they would be lucky to get half the promised pay. “Hey, kitten?” It comes out as a biting thing, no matter his attempts to keep his frustration off the cat's head. “Yeah?” Aiden looked at him then, eyes that edged on green rather than amber, wide and expecting. “How ‘bout you go on and get our pay. I’ll probably gut the fucker if I have to deal with him right now.” The cat didn’t reach out for him, having spent too long at the wolf’s side not to realize his mood and the preferences that came with it. “Alright. You going to be in our room?” “Yeah, I’m going to try to sleep off the last of this damn potion.” He didn’t manage to sleep at all. Aiden came in with two plates of food and two tankards of ale to find him pretending, face down on the mattress. “Come on, asshole. I got food and most of our promised coin for you… I also got a new gwent deck last month that I’m gonna kick your ass with.” “Like you could win without cheating me, pretty thing.” he forced himself up, toward the food that made him want to be sick with the thought of it on his tongue. He needed it. He knew it, Aiden knew it. Just like Aiden knew that he wouldn't win without cheating. “Let’s see about that.”

* Cats were unstable. Dangerous. They were as quick to change from laughter to anger as a summer sky was from blue to storm gray. Cats were not to be trusted. Every witcher and human child was taught that from the moment they could walk. Lambert was never good at following instructions. “Aiden?” The carnage was… extensive. A dozen bodies torn apart with the strength of a hurricane and the care of a starving drowner. “Aiden, love?” Endearments, true endearments, were rare to pass his lips. They meant one of two things- he was well fucked or he was scared out of his ever loving mind.He stepped over a butchered arm, half cut and then torn, towards the figure in the middle of the room. They had split six weeks before, Aiden going to take on a contract that Lambert wanted to know nothing about. He wasn't naive, he knew Aiden didn't have the same qualms he did about humans and human contracts but he had asked in their third year not to know about them. Aiden respected that. Aiden respected him.It was the blood that gave them the chance to meet then, so strong even from half a mile through the forest that Lambert was helpless not to investigate.  Cats are unstable. Their mutations make it inevitable that they’ll snap one day. His hand wrapped around the cat’s wrist, firm and without fear. He expected him to lash out, was willing to take whatever scar or pain that came in order to simply touch. To ensure that Aiden was real. That the frozen figure wasn’t a lie, a cruel trick played on his mind. Aiden turned, Lambert tensed, but the dagger in his cat's left hand dropped to the floor rather than bury itself in his chest; and Aiden collapsed against the wolf’s chest. He was soaked in blood, Lambert realized dimly. Not just covered but he was dripping in it. Aiden’s hair was matted with it and his blue armor hardly showed through the red. It was old- turning black and crusting. How long had he stood there? “I’ve got you, kitten.” the hand on his wrist shifted to hold the cat’s waist, Lambert raised his other hand raised to clasp Aiden's neck. A feeble attempt at making it all better. “I’ve got you.” Fourteen bodies. Most wore some sort of uniform, a lesser lordling’s colors or some shit but... some did not. There were three men in commoner clothes, a torn scrap of pale lilac fabric, and a small pair of shoes not unlike… Oh gods.  “What happened here?” This is Aiden. He’s yours, he's good. There’s a reason for this. Salt was in the air, nearly lost beneath the copper of blood, and the body in his arms began heaving with sobs.“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”Cats feel too much. Lambert shifted his grip to half carry the other witcher outside, he needed away. He needed fresh air and dirt under his feet. He took the sobbing man around the back of the shack to a well where he could rip one of his undershirts into strips and begin to clean the blood and gore from the man’s skin. The armor, the clothes, they were lost causes but he could make sure that the only stain on his skin would be salt. He started with his hands, coaxing his fingers to uncurl with soft and even pressure. He took care around the nails, more than one of which were broken. Then up his arms with broader strokes. By the time he started on his neck the sobbing had quieted down to shuddering breaths, hiccups that ended before they finished. Ignoring his eyes which were red rimmed and half void of the emotions that wracked him so thoroughly just moments before, he was nearly calm.Lambert wiped at some splatter on his cheek. He tossed the cloth aside and took up another.

“Back with me, kitten?” He needed to be gentle. He had to be gentle for him.“Yeah.” His voice was like sandpaper.“Gonna tell me what happened?” Lambert asked, afraid of the answer.“... yeah.” Aiden swallowed, took a deep breath- shuddered and had to try again. Lambert waited. He could wait for Aiden. Only for Aiden. “Contract was for some kid- not to kill. No, gods no. Someone kidnapped a mayor’s daughter or a lord’s… I don’t know. Titles weren’t important. I just was supposed to find her and bring her back home but... but I tracked them up here after a few weeks. Gal had a lover and a kid no one knew about... I guess the dad's family couldn't stand a bastard kid running around or some shit and I thought that it would be easy to find her and she jus' would agree to keep it quiet but when I got here they were” his hands clenched, rage twisted his lips into a snarl but he didn't try to rise. “They were too distracted with her to realize I’d even gotten inside. They used her as a bargaining chip, Lam. She was half dead, held up here for all that time and... and they offered her to me. Like I was a- I didn’t kill her Lam, I didn’t touch her or that kid in there… that was all them. I tried so save them but it didn’t fucking matter and they... they... Please, please believe me that I wouldn’t- even as angry as I was I didn’t touch them. I didn’t do that to them. I tried. I didn't- I couldn't...” he was rambling, losing it once more and the longer he spoke the more rage built in Lambert’s chest.“I know you wouldn’t.” He pours every ounce of conviction into the words.“I blacked out, Lam. I… I don’t remember it all but I wouldn’t have” he was breathing fast again- panicking. He was losing him again. “I know, kitten. You wouldn’t. I know that, you know that. You’re too good for that, love.” He dragged the cloth over his eyelids, gentle, and then he tossed it into the bucket. He was as clean as he could be without a full bath. “Do you want me to burn it all?”“No, the girl and the kid. They deserve better. I’ll make a pyre for them if you’ll deal with the others.”“I can do that.”So Lambert gently squeezed the cat’s hands, kissed his forehead, heedless of the blood in his hair, and set to work.

* As the days grew colder the men took to curling tighter around each other’s bodies. They were only a month off the incident when Aiden set his lips against Lambert’s neck and said“I love you.”It wasn’t the first time the Cat had said those words but Lambert brought clasped hands up to his lips and whispered against them, for the first time.“Love you too, kitten.” Find more of my work on Ao3

[trillian-anders]

bewildered

pairing: geralt of rivia x reader

warnings: angst, fluff, smut

word count: 4k

description: part 3 of 3. you’d wanted nothing to do with him, and he respected that. it was deserved. but something called him to you. and he needs to bring you home. 

Spring was coming. The snow finally melting, but the ground just beginning to thaw. Pretty soon Geralt would be able to sleep outside without being uncomfortable. He’d be able to get more done. Make more money. Leave Kaer Morhen for longer than a week at a time.

Truth be told he didn’t think he would make this place his home. The stone walls held bad memory. This was the place his mother had left him. Where he took his trials. Where he became the monster that he was today. But, Vesemir reasoned with him, free lodgings are better than paying for somewhere to stay all winter. And being as though they were the last of the Witchers, this property was theirs after all.

It was also harder to move around now that he had Ciri. The girl was smart, but naïve. Talented, but impulsive. This home would give her stability for training. Something she dreaded.

“I don’t understand why I have to learn all of this.” She would whine, the old tomes and books, memorized by Geralt in his youth, now to be memorized by her.

“You won’t succeed in fighting monsters if you don’t know everything about the monster.” Vesemir would shake his head at her when he wasn’t falling asleep in his chair.

Ciri would use those moments to sneak off, train combatively like Geralt had been teaching her. Running the obstacle course that he’d built for her. She loved doing that. The book learning not so much.

It was one of those days, Vesemir found fast asleep that he found Ciri outside practicing with a dummy in the courtyard. Her form was improving, but still sloppy. Her footwork needed more practice and she needed to build more muscle in her arms to properly wield the sword, but she was improving and that was a good sign.

“Keep your core tight.” He called, arms crossed and standing a comfortable distance behind her. “Focus, precise movements.” She was agile, having learned to flip and maneuver her way around even if her footwork was often a misstep. She’ll get there. “Steady.”

The trees were barren and air crisp. Watching Ciri practice, focused. The wind picked up, a whisper in the air.

Something was wrong.

Geralt didn’t know what it was, but he could sense it. A shift. A change. Something was very, very wrong. His fingers reached into his pocket, brushing against the metal coin there reassuringly. Thumbing it between his pointer a forefinger.

When the ground thaws. He’ll soothe his conscience.

…

He found himself outside of your home. For the first time in a long time. It looks less taken care of, vines crawling up the sides imbedding themselves in the walls. The garden was dry, dead plants, overgrown weeds. The small little pond you’d made for yourself, the fish dead, a layer of scum over top.

The door was open and half of its hinge.

He stepped through the familiar home. Room to room. Cobwebs and dust over every surface, bottles and jars smashed or dark and their contents sour. You obviously hadn’t been here for a very long time, but it looked as though you’d left on your own accord. Your clothes and jewelry were gone. The tiny baubles he’d noticed on your vanity gone as well. But how long have you been gone? And where were you now?

He travelled on. Different towns, villages. Beast after beast, listlessly hoping that the trail of bed crumbs would be you leading him back. The heavy coin in his pocket would put a shadow on that thought. You gave him the thing you used to bring him to you before. He flipped it through his fingers, looking at the shiny metal sides, polished from the constant worrying.

He was sore, soaking in a bath and looking at it. The cuts on his arms and legs burning from the heat, but he can’t focus on that. He’s focused on this coin.

He couldn’t remember the story you told him. You having been just a girl and him handing this coin to you. He’d probably been a new Witcher then. Fresh from his trails, out on his first couple hunts, just having left the nest. He couldn’t pull the memory from his mind. It was so long ago now.

He could feel the magic in it, infused in every little bit of this metal. Your magic. It had given him solace, late nights, long bouts of travel, he rubbed it and it soothed him, pacifying his subdued emotions enough for him to focus. It was when he thought of this that he realized,

He knew how to find you.

The village wasn’t far off from where your old home had been, and he’d felt foolish for it. Small and secluded. Tiny little houses in sporadic distances from the main square. The square bustling with life, vendors selling vegetables and grain from their farm. Flowers and metal trinkets from the blacksmith, behind him an array of weapons and household wares.

He wasn’t welcome here and he could feel it as soon as he stepped into the small village. Their looks odd, their wallets clutched in to quell their nerves. But he paid them no mind. He could see you, just across the way. Thin white linen dress, hair down and soft, holding a woven basket you were slowly filling with vegetables. He grew closer as you switched over to the little flower cart, smiling and charming, talking to the male vendor.

His cheeks red with rosacea and belly round he seemed keen on you. You were laughing at a joke, head thrown back. He’d never seen you so carefree before, so happy. You had baby’s breath in your hair and a rose to your cheeks. He almost stepped away, left entirely. Like maybe getting rid of him was the best thing you’d ever done for yourself.

But it’s gone from his mind when you meet his gaze, your eyes bringing him in, a soft smile on your lips. He stops before you and you turn to him,

“Y/N…” Your brow furrows, lips pulling into a frown.

“I’m sorry, sir.” You step back from him, “But do I know you?” This feeling, he’d only felt it once before, what feels like a lifetime ago now. The abandonment of it. You look genuinely confused. He shakes his head,

“No, I’m sorry…” He sighs, “I’m—”

“Witcher.” A terse voice, men pulling up to his left. “You’re going to have to come with us.” His eyes stay on you as you look upon the men, the tug of your bottom lip between your teeth. You give him a strange look and walk away, leaving the square, and headed to where he would assume your home was.

He turned to the men, their leader jerking his head toward the pub. So it wasn’t a beating, but a job proposition.

“Do you know her?” One of the men asked him, “You seemed pretty keen.” His teeth were yellowed, skin black with dirt. Geralt sipped on his ale, answering, focused in on the man who just dropped down in front of him. “I bet she tastes of honey.” Geralt’s jaw set, a glare shot at the man who sunk into his seat, Cheshire grin dropping.

“Something has been in my fields every night.” He says, “I’d pray you a pretty penny so it would stop hawking my grain.” Missing grain. Geralt was ever the public servant.

How could you forget him? Had you done this to yourself? Erased your mind of him? Or had someone else done this to you? Was your memory lost forever or easily retrieved? He sighs, trying to focus on the task at hand, but he can’t. Should he even try to bring your memory back?

A shift in the night, he could hear it. Noise from the silo. His hand on the hilt of his sword. He walked around to the other side, the moonlight illuminating the open door. He sighs, the grain thief isn’t a hungry beast, but someone from the village. He sheathes his sword, coming around the corner and seeing a dark cloaked figure hunched over and shoving grain into a burlap sack by their feet. He sighs, the noise halting the figure’s movements.

“The man who owns this land isn’t too happy that you’ve been stealing his grain.” The figure moves, turning to face him, cloak hood falling from their face.

It’s you.

“I’m sure.” You huff, “He seems perfectly happy to let those on the outer banks starve though, maybe you should talk to him about that.” He was stunned by you. You looked different, fresher, healthier. You’d been eating more, getting more sun and in the moonlight, he felt struck by you in a way he couldn’t have expected. You looked at him for a moment before tying the burlap sack shut, “You seem to know me… Witcher.” Cheeky. That hadn’t changed.

“You remind me of someone I once knew.” He watched you abandon the sack, stepping towards him.

“Was she beautiful?” You muse, a cheeky grin. A light in your eyes he hadn’t ever seen.

“Absolutely enchanting.” He breathed, missing your heat when you take a step back.

“So you wouldn’t mind carrying this grain for me then?” You laugh at the look on his face, but he finds himself shouldering it and following you down the hill and into the woods.

An enchantress. That’s what you’d always been. A mage, a king’s mage, a mage for the people, no. You were an enchantress and you belonged here. Flitting about in the trees covered with moss and barefoot leading him to a small home. The first stop of many to portion out enough grain for the family to have bread.

You’re their fairy godmother. A blessing. He watches the mother hold you and offer you animal fat from their last hunt, something you decline, but appreciate, nonetheless. He follows you house to dilapidated house, the poor families inside ever so grateful for the blessing of your stolen grain. You mock him for giving up his fealty so easily.

“I should be jealous of this girl.” You jest. “She must get whatever she wants from you.” He huffs,

“I haven’t seen her in a while.” He admits, watching you balance on a log across a small stream, heading back towards town and leading him home.

“You seem smitten,” You jump from the log, landing on your feet and turning to him, watching him cross, “Why haven’t you seen her?” Sorrow burrowed into his chest as he watches you continue onward, the beautiful dress you’d been wearing earlier now mud dipped and you seem so without care.

“I said something in anger,” He sighs, “Years ago, I fear she doesn’t want to see me again.” The edge of the town grows closer and you take him to the left, walking the length around it.

“Did you apologize?” You ask, the stone streets meeting your feet once more. He follows you through the winding road, house pushed further back towards the wood. A miniature version of the home he’d found abandoned, complete with a little pond out front.

“I hadn’t the chance.” You look at him strangely.

“Hadn’t the chance or wouldn’t take it?”

The home is much cozier than your old one. A single room with a fireplace on the far right wall, your bed on the far left. A small table and chair, kitchen area with dried herbs hanging over top of the small butcher’s block counter that had vegetable scraps from the dinner you must’ve eaten before going out to steal and distribute grain.

“Mason, the man who owns that land will surely be wanting a head brought to him.” He watches you take a cloth and wash your feet. You look up at him from beneath your lashes. “Are you going to turn me in?”

He shakes his head, “No.” You shrug, tossing the rag into your basket of laundry.

“Then you better get hunting.” But he didn’t want to leave you. You seemed so happy here, so content, but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t leave you like this,

“Do you really not remember me?” He asked, gruff and serious. You look at him strangely,

“What are you talking about?” You ask. “I’ve just met you today.” He shakes his head,

“No, I met you for the first time nearly fifty years ago.” Your brow furrows and you shake your head.

“I’m not even fifty years old…” You step back from him, “I think you should leave.”

“I’m not leaving.” He states, “You’re a mage, you know magic, you did this to yourself?” Why couldn’t he just walk away? Why did he need to tear you from this so badly? You shake your head, hand coming up to hold the side of it. “You erased your memory?”

He could see your eyes moving behind your closed lids. Searching. “You need to leave.”

“I need to take you back to Vesemir, he’ll know how to help you.” Your eyes opened, red and weepy, a drop of blood drips from your nose and you faint.

Geralt rushes to catch your dropping body, saving your skull from clipping into the kitchen bench. He’d have to take you to Kaer Morhen, Vesemir would be able to help him break this spell.

…

This bed was much richer than your own. Comfortable to the point you could sink into it almost to the floor. You’d never felt anything so rich in your life. Your body feels like lead, hard to move, but then again you didn’t really want to. You were so comfortable. Laying on your belly, a hand on your back playing with the ends of your hair, braiding and then taking it out, then re-braiding.

You hum, vision clearing, looking at the drawn curtains. A crackling fireplace in the corner makes the cool summer night a little too warm.

It was a little girl, humming behind you and braiding your hair. Her hair stark white, skin tanned and ruddy from playing in the summer sun, scratches on her cheeks and you’d later notice on her knuckles and fingers.

“Ciri.” A harsh whisper. “Leave her be.” The voice familiar and a deep growl. A quiet huff of annoyance and the bed shifts you can hear her step towards Geralt.

“I’m helping her wake up.” She says in a terse voice.

“She needs to rest.” His annoyed reply. The heavy door behind him closes and you slowly roll over to look at him. He’s staring at the ground, a strange expression on his face.

“I’m surprised you came looking for me.” You mumble into the sheets. His eyes snapping to yours.

“You erased your memory.” A statement. A fact. You hum, stretching your sore limbs. “Take it easy, you’re not going to have all your faculties yet.”

“You weren’t supposed to go looking for me.”

“Why not?” He asked. “I didn’t mean what I said and you know it.” You sink back into the sheets, unable to fully move.

“Is this your home?” You ask. He steps closer, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

“I lived here when I was a boy.” He shrugs, “This is where they trained us.” He hears your sharp intake of breath. “It’s just us here, Ciri, Vesemir, and me.”

“Not Yenn?” He glares at you.

“She’s never been here.” You roll onto your back, looking up at the canopy above you. “Why did you erase your memory?” He watches you for a moment, silent and unanswering.

“It made it hurt less.” You admit, “I didn’t want to live that life anymore.” You look at him, his brow pulled in concern.

“I’m sorry for what I said.” He sighs, “I shouldn’t have—”

“But you’re right.” You scoff, “Both times I pushed you away… the last time you wanted to stay…”

“But it wouldn’t have been right of me to do that…” He sighs, “I wasn’t in a good place to give you what you wanted.”

“Are you ever?” You sit up against the headboard, wiggling your toes to regain feeling.

“No…” He looks at you quietly for a moment, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know.”

“Are you ever going to be happy?” He asks, you look at him for a moment. The defeat in his voice.

“Why does it matter to you? Is this your guilt?” You look around the room, a large basin to bathe in, the fireplace growing close to embers, a desk messy with papers, but what would he even need to write?

“My guilt?” Your eyes roll back to his.

“That fuels you to need to make sure I’m happy. Which didn’t stop you from bringing my memory back.” A spell, crudely done on yourself. A nice ten or fifteen years, you’d remember. But you’d get to live life away from it for a while, and you did. “So guilt and selfishness then? Guilt needing to make sure I’m happy but selfish enough to make sure I can’t be happy without you? Why?” You wanted him to say it. This strange relationship the two of you had, if you could even call it a relationship.

This was the third time you’d seen him in nearly fifty years.

“What is this?” You ask him, “Why can’t you let me go?”

“I don’t know.” He shakes his head, stepping from the bed, “I don’t know.” Rubbing his eyes. His fingers fumble with something in his pocket, “You’re just so…”

“So…? What?” His golden eyes they’re so piercing. They make a shiver go down your spine.

“Bewitching.” He steps to the edge of the bed and you meet him there, shifting shakily to your knees. His fingers find the ends of your hair, still partially braided from Ciri. “I’m selfish enough to want you here.” He says, “With me.”

You settle back on your heels, head tilted back looking up at his face. “You’re soft.” He rolls his eyes, knowing the subject was far too intimate for you, something to be broached later, maybe once he plies you with mead maybe soaking bath. “I’m hungry.”

…

Geralt watched from under the stone archway. Ciri was practicing, you are standing a safe distance behind her, observing. Ciri seemed infatuated with you, she wanted to show you everything she learned, everything she knew. You helped her focus, Ciri able to sit longer in her studies, explain things to you about different creatures that you pretended not to know.

You braided her hair out of her face and she chattered to you at mealtimes.

“The girl wants a Mother.” Vesemir said to him as they both watched you instruct her to keep her back straight,

“Good posture helps with combat.” You would tell her. Ciri would roll her shoulders back, her footwork improving. Less sloppy.

Your eyes would meet his every once in a while, a knowing smirk on your face before he steps out to join the two of you and you make your exit with a trail of fingers against his back.

“The trial of the grasses.” You whisper by candlelight, facing him in the bed you’d been sharing, your fingers tracing the shape of his cheekbones, “Barbaric, and cruel… it’s fortunate that no one should have to go through that ever again.” Your thumb pressed between his tense brow.

“Ciri will never have to go through that.” She’s powerful, the girl.

“She won’t.” You wrap yourself in further, legs curling up under your nightdress. “She’s strong.”

“She is.”

“I would have never pictured you as a father.” He huffs, rolling onto his back.

“Neither would I.” You hum, looking at his profile.

“She wants to make you proud.” His eyes move to yours. “I have a feeling that she already does.”

“You can’t leave her.” He says, “You’d break her heart.” Your fingers scratch against the sheets between you.

“I can’t stay here.”

“Why not?” Propped up on his elbow, body half hovering over yours. “Make this your home, come and go as I do,” His fingers disappearing in your strands, “Just always come back.” A gentle tug, pulling your face to meet his.

It was soft. Unlike previous kisses. The passion bubbling under your skin, the emptiness you’d felt from the absence of him being drowned by his mouth. The blunt fingernails digging into your spine as you lay above him, kissing.

Those same fingers bunching the skirt of your nightdress up your thighs as you straddle his hips. The hard length of him pressing against you. You gently rock your hips against his, grinding yourself on him, softly moaning into his mouth. He gently rolls you over, pressing your back against the sheets and kissing his way down your neck and to the tops of your breasts, palming them, before sinking his hands under your nightdress and slipping your undergarments down and off. The thin gown slipping off your shoulders to lay open.

His lips meet your belly, tracing their way down, down, to press against your hips, large rough palms tracing down your legs to grip your thighs and part them for his gentle assault. Those amber eyes meet yours, tongue dipping between your thighs. His arms encircle your hips, hands gripping them tightly, letting you rock against his face.

The grind and friction on his tongue making your legs shake. His grunting and moaning, tongue tracing expertly placed circles on your clit. Your fingers unravel his hair, fingernails scratching at his scalp as your back arches in climax. Whining with his continued licks, wet tongue overstimulating your sensitive flesh. He lays a kiss on your mons, trailing his lips back up your body to capture your mouth, the sweet tang of you shared between you both.

You pull at his shirt and he allows you to lift it from his body, tossed carelessly to the side, before helping you with his trousers. His skin bare above you, touching yours in comfort. He wraps himself around you, warm and strong. His heavy cock resting on your belly as his lips meet yours again and again.

Your fingers in his hair, he adjusts his hips, the tip of him pressing against your entrance before you feel that familiar burn and stretch, whimpering into his mouth as he breeches you. He’s on his elbows on top of you, chest to chest, connected. Intimate. His face pulls away from yours as he begins to slowly thrust, and as your eyes drift closed, he says,

“Don’t look away from me,” a plea or a demand, you couldn’t be sure, but when you opened your eyes and looked into his it felt so raw, so real. His hips meeting yours in a steady smooth pace. This wasn’t like before. The hurried and animalistic chase towards climax. The rushed fuck you’d gotten from him twice before. This was far more intimate, far closer, far too exposed. “Don’t look away.”

You could feel your eyes watering, body trembling as he ground himself against the most sensitive spot inside you, “I can’t.” You whimper his fingers intertwined with yours, pressing them down into the bed.

“Don’t run from me.” A whisper on your lips as the tears began to run down your face, dripping down your temples and into your hair, “Stop running from me.” He lays a soft kiss to your lips. You were getting close, so close.

Your hands tightened, squeezing his as you tumbled over, a blabbering mess of words leaving your throat, soothed by a searing kiss from him as his hips picked up a faster motion, chasing his own release now. It wasn’t long after that his hips stuttered against yours, his seed painting your womb, but his body staying close. He kissed you, again and again. Slow and soft.

“Tell me you’ll stay.” A whisper into your mouth, he was soft inside you, your legs still wrapped around his waist. His eyes searched yours, thumb coming down to wipe at the tears coming from your eyes.

“I’ll stay.”

.

.

.

taglist //  @msgeorgiarae​ @bookish-shristi​ @saturnki​ @jennmurawski13​ @geeksareunique​ @the-soulofdevil​ @tinmunky​ @gifsbysimplysonia​ @alwaysbenhardysgirl @beck-alicious​

[harrylee94]

The Tournament - Chapter 8

You can find this on AO3!

Summary: Cobb led his horse from the field with a smile on his lips and a slight skip in his step. He'd won. The first round, sure, but he'd beat a knight, a noble from some Clan from far away, and he'd passed on to the next round. He knew that the fight was far from over and that it would likely only get harder from here, but he was so proud of himself. There had been a moment, just before their lances had met, that he'd thought he wouldn't be able to make it, that this had all been a terrible idea and he was going to lose. That he was going to be revealed as a fraud and his hard earned armour would be taken from him.

But then he'd won the bout, and Prince Din congratulating him had felt like the sun was shining on him.

Notes:

Not quite as exciting as last chapter, but fun all the same!

Chapter 7

——————————————————————

"They go by the name 'The Krayt Dragon'." - Cobb

Cobb led his horse from the field with a smile on his lips and a slight skip in his step. He'd won. The first round, sure, but he'd beat a knight, a noble from some Clan from far away, and he'd passed on to the next round. He knew that the fight was far from over and that it would likely only get harder from here, but he was so proud of himself. There had been a moment, just before their lances had met, that he'd thought he wouldn't be able to make it, that this had all been a terrible idea and he was going to lose. That he was going to be revealed as a fraud and his hard earned armour would be taken from him.

But then he'd won the bout, and Prince Din congratulating him had felt like the sun was shining on him.

He couldn't have been more grateful to Jo for the design on his armour. It made him feel like he belonged there, that he had made a Clan of his own with her and Peli, and now it had become a part of his persona. He hated that he had to remain silent when Din had addressed them, but he knew that his voice would have been recognisable.

The Prince had still smiled. Briefly, but it was still a smile, and even if he ended up losing tomorrow, a part of him would be happy to have achieved that.

Chenin, the gelding Peli had decided would be the best choice for him to ride (and least likely for anyone to recognise under the caparison), had done well, and Cobb was determined to reward him once they reached safety. From the sight of Ser Jaonar, half-armoured and walking with a swagger in his step, he got the feeling it wouldn't be anytime soon.

"Congratulations," the noble said, his voice holding only amusement. "I don't think anyone's had the crowd so riled up in years."

Cobb paused and looked at him, remaining silent; he couldn't take the chance that this idiot would recognise him.

The knight waited -- probably for him to say something -- before deciding that waiting was too boring and chuckled. "You're a bit of a showman, aren't you? Have to say, I kind of wish I'd thought of that. Wouldn't have worked so well, what with my superior and, unfortunately in this instance, easily recognisable armour, but it would have been fun, just to see everyone's faces when I revealed myself."

Cobb leaned back a little to imply some sort of agreement, though he was more reeling over the fact that Jaonar was talking to him as though he was something approaching an equal rather than a simple stable boy.

The knight grinned. “I thought so,” he said. Leaning down a little to try and look through the visor. Cobb took a step back. “Aw come on now, you’re not out there anymore. You can show me your face.”

Cobb’s hand tightened on Chenin’s reins, but he otherwise kept his stoic demeanor.

Ser Jaonar tilted his head, the amusement beginning to fade. “Now you’re just being rude. It’s one thing to hide who you are to the rabble, but it’s just you and me here.”

It wasn’t. There were people all around them. The knight had stopped him in the middle of a thoroughfare in fact, and people were stopping to watch.

When the knight made to step closer, Cobb put his hand on the hilt of his sword.

“Woah!” the entitled lordling said, bringing his hands up and stepping away. “Message received! You could have just said something.”

Cobb narrowed his eyes at him.

Jaonar smirked. “I guess that would ruin the image if you did though, wouldn’t it?” He stepped back further and shook his head. “I suppose I’ll have to watch your joust then. We’ll all know who you are once you lose.”

Cobb sneered until the nobleman turned and left.

Entertainment -- or at least the potential of it -- now gone, the spectators also started to move along, and Cobb forced himself to start moving again. All the joy he’d felt from winning had been squashed down and replaced with the fear of being discovered, of Jaonar being the one to do it, and he quickly led Chenin through the makeshift camp.

It took longer than he’d hoped to get to the tent Peli had set up, hidden away between a laundry area and a temporary storage place for barrels of ale owned by one of Cobb’s friends. As soon as he and Chenin were safely ensconced within and the tent flap secured in place, he removed his helmet with a relieved sigh.

Unfortunately, due to the nature of his secrecy, he had to remove his armour himself, which was both incredibly difficult and time consuming. The straps were in awkward positions, and his body ached from being battered by a lance and almost losing his seat, but with patience (and a lot of cursing) he was able to remove enough of it to remove the caparison from Chenin. He’d loosened the saddle and bridle straps already, but the additional fabric would not have been comfortable in the already stuffy tent.

Once all the armour had been removed and he had returned to his usual clothes, he packed everything away into two burlap sacks and placed them over the back of Chenin’s saddle before leading him back to the castle stables, just as he would be doing on any other working day.

“I send you out to take that poor thing for some exercise, and you’re gone for the whole morning!” Peli exclaimed as he arrived, hands on her hips.

“It’s the Tournament, Peli!” he replied. “There are people everywhere!”

“That sounds like bullshit,” she said.

“Have you seen what it’s like out there?”

“I’ve seen enough to know it shouldn’t have taken you all morning to take a horse out for some exercise.”

“Sometimes they need a whole morning!”

“Oh, so now the whole morning was because of the exercise and not because of the Tournament?”

“Peli…”

"Look, if you wanted to watch, you could have just said so! You don't have to lie about it."

"I'm not-! I didn't go to the Tournament!"

Peli looked him over with her scrupulous gaze. "Take Chenin to his stall."

"I was about to."

“If this happens again, I’m docking your pay.”

“How is that fair?”

“Maybe if you manage to clean up the stalls like you’re supposed to, I’ll rethink my offer.”

“Offer?!”

“Did I stutter?”

They shared a heated glare, but Cobb turned away first with a huff. “It wasn’t my fault.”

“Those stalls won’t clean themselves!” she called after him as he led Chenin away.

When he was safely hidden away he grinned as he heard Peli muttering about incompetent stable hands as she walked away.

It was all going according to plan. Peli had already cleaned up the stalls, of course, but they had to put on a show in case anyone had been watching, which meant that Cobb could hide his armour and care for Chenin in peace, and he took full advantage of it. The gelding had performed beautifully, behaving so well in front of everyone, and following Cobb’s every request. He was richly rewarded with mint leaves, his favourite treat, and a good brushing and fresh oats. It was as he was finishing his brushing that he heard a knock on the stall door.

“I brought lunch,” Jo called through the opening, sending him a knowing smirk.

“I’ll be right with ya,” he answered, and stroked a hand over Chenin’s nose. “You were such a good boy for me today. Think you’ll be up for it again tomorrow?” The horse huffed in what he took to be a yes, and he smiled, pressing his brow to the space between Chenin’s eyes. “Thank you.”

With one last pat he headed out and greeted Jo with a smile and a hug.

"You did so well," she said into his shoulder while she had the chance, then held up her bundle when she pulled back. "I have leftovers from the feast. And before you ask! Yes, I did get your favourite."

"Marry me," Cobb said, only to laugh as she pushed him away by his face.

"You're not my type."

Still snorting, the stable hand retrieved the sacks from earlier and slung them by the adjoining rope over his shoulders. "Peli! I'm going for lunch!"

"What you telling me for?" his boss said from one of the stalls. "It's not like you don't take breaks whenever you please!"

He rolled his eyes and shared a look with Jo. "I'll be back soon!"

Before she had the chance to reply again, they left and headed for the ramparts. The guards up there gave them a nod in greeting, well used to their presence for midday meal, and allowed them to sit on the edge with a good view of the list field. From this distance he couldn't tell who was up, but he could see armoured figures charging and hear the distant cheers of the crowd.

"How are they doing out there?" Cobb asked as Jo unravelled their lunch, revealing a mildly warm pot of Tiingilar, some bread and cheese, and a selection of cold meats.

She shrugged. "As well as you'd expect. They're hitting each other off of horses with long sticks, then whacking each other with swords until one of them falls over."

Cobb snorted. "That sounds to be the long and short of it."

"Someone got their leg broken earlier."

"Oh?"

"It was one of those assholes from last week."

"Oh."

He used the bread to scoop up some of the spicy stew and all he but melted when it hit his tongue. He really did love Tiingilar, but he didn't have the time to make it, or the facilities. Most of the time he ended up grabbing food he could easily cook quickly in a pot at the end of the day, usually while he was practicing with his sword, but every so often the kitchens would share a little taste of heaven and he'd regret never having the time.

"There's this one knight that everyone's talking about though," Jo said mischievously. "You probably missed them while you were working."

Cobb raised his eyebrow at her as he chewed.

"They go by the name 'The Krayt Dragon'."

Cobb almost inhaled his Tiingilar and ended up coughing up what felt like half a lung. A knight? People thought he was a knight? That was flattering, but oh was that bad. That was very bad in fact. Joining a tournament under a false name was one thing, but impersonating a knight was a punishable offence.

“Wh-what?”

"They’re calling them ‘The Dragon Knight’,” Jo continued, eyes flickering to where the guard must still have been standing, a warning that he kept himself under control. “Which is simply absurd considering they’ve already given themselves a title. Plus they haven’t said anything about being a knight. Or anything at all really; no one’s heard him say a word, even after they won their round.”

“That is strange,” Cobb agreed, his appetite waning in his worry but he continued to eat anyway; the Tiingilar was too good to waste. "What else are people saying?"

“Well, there’s speculation about who they are, of course,” Jo explained around a mouthful. “People think they might be a knight from some noble house that’s down on their luck, but that doesn’t sit well with most. Some people think they’re after the Prince, but with the way they bowed to him, that doesn’t sound right either.” That anyone thought that at all made his stomach churn, but he only nodded and waited for her to continue. “Some people think they’re just ugly or heavily scarred or something, and that either they can’t speak or they just don’t due to some vow or something.” Cobb snorted. He couldn’t picture himself ever making a vow of silence.

“Then there are those who think they’re maybe a disgraced knight, or even a mercenary.” Jo paused to drink some ale from her waterskin, offering it to him once she was done, which he took gratefully. “My personal favourite is that they’re some lowborn who got their hands on some armour and a good horse. Call me sentimental, but those nobles need a bit of humbling.”

“Couldn’t agree with you more,” Cobb said as he took one more swig of ale. “Best of luck to them, whoever they may be.” They’d certainly need it.

——————————————————————

Notes: Chenin is a play on Chenini, one of the 3 moons of Tatooine.

Chapter 9

[vagrantblvrd]

yes hello may i please ask for snippets or not!fic of Nicky and Joe

Well hello there, friend!

You have asked for things I would love to gush about for forever because these two with the owning of my heart?

(Disclaimer: I’m not sure how ~in character/canon any of this would be because I’ve not had time to read the comics yet, but anyway!)

Also, this is totally going to be rambling not!fic so I hope that’s okay?

But just imagine being neighbors with Joe and Nicky, you know?

These two nice young men who are either really good friends or really good friends *wink wink* , if you know what I mean?

I’m totally imagining them having this nice little apartment somewhere when they’re not with the team or that year they reference in the movie where apparently they weren’t hero-ing about as a team?

At least one (1) little old lady in the same building and of course they help her with the groceries and errands, fixing things around her place that break that would take the landlord forever to get to. (And probably hire someone who’d do a terrible job of it.)

Sweet young men, and you know there would be all these jokes from them about this little old lady making them feel old because she’s taking a class for whatever hip, new exercise trend is making the rounds at the time at the community center a few blocks down and they’re yet to step foot in the place themselves and so on.

She’s delighted/blushing because such sweet young men? Meanwhile Joe and Nicky are sharing this look over her head because lol, if only she knew?

And of course she laughs and swats their arm all, you rascals, as they escort her up to her apartment after running into one another in the lobby or whatever.

Joe’s carrying her groceries and Nicky’s all :D at her - not flirting, goodness no, Joe would get jealous, he swears.

But also, okay, also.

Single mom with a kid in the building (I’m going hard on my fave cliches/tropes, sorry) and they help keep an eye on the kid when they’re around and the whatnot?

Like when Single Mom and her kid moved in there’s sort of kind of a basketball court out back? But no one’s used it in years and it’s a mess. The net/chain from the net is long gone/rusted away and the paint on the court is faded and it’s more the kind of place people toss stuff too big to haul off to the dump without renting a truck and why bother with the hassle when they can set it there and just...forget to do the thing they told themselves they’d do one day?

So, yeah.

And it’s like.

There’s this day where the kid’s out back practicing ball control or whatever, and every so often you can hear the ball get away from them because wow, yeah.

The surface of the court’s a little torn up, cluttered, crowded and there’s not enough room to do much without running into junk.

This little moment where they’re watching a movie or a show or whatever and that sound over and over and this well clearly someone has to do something kind of moment between them expressed in looks and eyebrows, right?

Maybe they’ve been hero-ing on the side or whatever, small, local things because I sincerely doubt they’d just not if there wasn’t a dire reason for it, you know? (Someone actively looking for them, and even then...yes.)

Anyway, anyway.

There’s a home improvement store not too far away and they have coupons, discount vouchers, whatever from fixing up their own place.

(I really want there to be at least one (1) hidden compartment/sekrit hiding place because much weaponry, and sure, let’s put this one in America because reasons? But also seriously suspect.)

Not asking too much to use those coupons/vouchers on stuff to fix the basketball court up, repaint it and put up new net/chain if not replace the baskets completely.

Weekend project that may take longer than anticipated if the team goes out to hero or whatever, but it gets done.

Has some of their neighbors getting curious enough to see what they’re doing, and then it’s a group project.

The kid is like !!! and cautiously hopeful about things because hey, you know, it’s nice of them and all? But also why? What do they get out of it?

Little Old Lady bakes cookies and the whatnot and someone brings lunch and it’s just a lovely bonding moment for everyone in the building.

AND THEN.

When the basketball court’s back to its old glory there must be a basketball game?

Vicious game of H.O.R.S.E. at the very least, and of course Little Old Lady takes part.

There’s an unspoken agreement to take it easy on her because little old lady? But then it’s revealed she used to play professional basketball, and also Joe and Nicky are sweet and all?

But they’re sloppy players, and then scores another letter without breaking a sweat and then it’s back to the way H.O.R.S.E. should be played. (No-holds barred cutthroat style. Except for maybe not so much because kid? But yes.)

Little Old Lady teams up with the kid against them once the others drop out - because picnic the building set up and it’s a nice day and idk, happy funtimes and people enjoying one another’s company while Joe and Nicky get utterly destroyed at H.OR.S.E.

These and other lovely shenanigans?

But also that time a Baddie tracks them down.

Because of course it has to happen, right? Not necessarily someone who knows about the whole immortality business so much as some hired goon with an axe (lol) to grind and they’re the asshole’s target?

Or maybe it’s a new baddie who’s head of the team and some operation of theirs or an ally’s the team fucked up but good, and decide they can’t let that stand.

Joe and Nicky happen to be the ones they find first - luck or whatever else - and it starts out civil, as these things go.

Goons in suits knocking on doors around the building and asking questions, hold up photos of Joe and Nicky taken from security cameras/snooping about.

And of course, of course, the entire building is fiercely protective of those two sweet young men, you know?

Why Joe and Nicky could never do those horrible things the goons (posing as federal agents with shiny badges and all) say they did. Why, those two couldn’t hurt a fly! You’ve got the wrong people, agents.

Joe and Nicky know something’s going on, but they’ve got Team business and are away a fair amount as the Baddie sets things in motion, right?

Come back after one bout of heroing to Little Old Lady showering them in baked good and all? Invites herself in to help them put it all away and chides them about not watering that one houseplant someone gave them as a gift not too long ago and so on.

Just.

Unusual behavior from her and the others. Even the kid is acting weird, telling Joe and Nicky their mom wants to thank them for the basketball court restoration thingamabob by having them over to dinner.

(Belated kind o deal because that was months ago, but she had a big project at work and all these other things since and anyway, anyway, she’d like to have them over to thank them and of course they can’t say no to that, you know?)

The baddie has his goons watch the building, and happen to see Joe and Nicky getting back from another “business trip”, but before they can get to them Little Old Lady pops up and commandeers Joe and Nicky. Needs their help moving her couch or what have you.

And then, okay, everything makes sense with what their neighbors have been doing, protecting them from the baddie’s goons and whatnot?

Sweet as it is, they can’t let it go on because someone’s going to get hurt.

But they play along for the moment, let Little Old Lady and the kid and everyone else think they’re getting away with it (only everyone knows what’s going on - no one’s trying that hard to hide the truth about it, so long as they keep the goons from hurting Joe and Nicky and just. Yeah?)

But then!

The goons get tired of everyone’s interference and go after Joe and Nicky and the fighting begins!

Super cool choreography using the environment (and hidden weapons compartments and such???) and also swords, because of course.

The fighting spills out of Joe and Nicky’s place and down the hallway - Little Old Lady opens her door and trips one of the goons who’s taking aim at Nicky before slamming it shut and taking cover - and by the end of it it’s pretty damn obvious that Joe and Nicky are far from harmless?

Like.

The expected amount of blood and bits and bodies. Joe and Nicky restrained themselves because civilian environment, and also cops aren’t fond of responding to a call to find a literal bloody massacre greeting them.

Also, trying not to traumatize the kid. (Who incredible, yes, but still a kid and even the adults who see what happened are a little yikes, you know?)

ANYWAY.

Joe and Nicky are like, well, damn, because no way they can just keep on living there after all that, right?

Still have to deal with the head baddie and also no way anyone in the building wants people capable of what they did around?

AND YET.

Little Old Lady plays up the little old lady aspect? Granny perfume, knitted shawl, bifocals and oh, my, and goodness, look at all the mess, and could you speak up, young lady, my hearing’s not what it used to be and so on as the cops take her witness account.

Single Mom is just. :O that something like that could have happened, and are Joe and Nicky okay? They’re such nice people. Always a kind word, and so helpful! It’s just awful that something like this happened to them.

Joe and Nicky just ??? while looking like horror movie survivors (...or not, because that’s a lot blood and do you two need medical care?), one of them half-heartedly trying to hide the sword they’re still holding where the cops won’t notice it.

(They did, though. They so did.)

The poor cops who have been called to a horrific scene and are met with everyone’s concern for Joe and Nicky while the goons are carted away for medical care/morgue.

Absolutely know Joe and Nicky are far from innocent in all this? And yet! They are the victims here, right? Minding their own business and attacked by goons in their own home, why of course they had no choice but to defend themselves.

(Also, also, I am choosing to make Single Mom a lawyer or soon-to-be lawyer in this because it makes me stupidly happy? Like the cops are all “Okay, yes, but the swords???” while she’s like “Officer, please,” because America and there’s a store down the street that sells assault rifles for God’s sake. Seriously.)

In the end the cops can’t actually charge them for anything - okay, wait, no. Noise violation or some such because the goons with their guns and later the screaming?

The cops aren’t that interested in digging into matters because reasons? Joe and Nicky being so popular among their neighbors, sure, but other things like the basketball court and such that helped make their jobs easier? Low-key neighborhood watch and so on ~disguised as helping neighbors to and from their cars while chatting about their day and then maybe anonymous/not-so-anonymous tips about shady types loitering about.

(Look. Distinct accents? But also backgroiund noise and Joe/Nicky asking the other what they want for dinner and the cops are just. Plausible deniability all the way on this one.)

But whatever.

Joe and Nicky are like uh, what now?

The obvious, smart thing to do would be to move somewhere else after dealing with head baddie?

But it’s such a nice neighborhood and once thet/the team deal with head baddie there shouldn’t be a problem if they stick around for a couple more years before having to move on because lol, they don’t seem to have aged a day and all that.

Also, though, also.

Some time after all that hullabaloo and Andy and Nile stop by to make sure Joe and Nicky aren’t getting into trouble? (Ahaha, yeah. I’m pretty sure Andy and Nile would be the ones getting into trouble, but I digress.)

Just.

Andy and Little Old Lady staring one another down?

Little Old Lady taking in Andy’s axe in its carrying bag  and doing that sniff, head toss thing before telling her she better not get those boys in trouble, understand?

Nile is looking between Little Old Lady and Andy like this is the best goddamn thing she’s ever seen, super freaking delighted and desperately wishing she could record it all to show Joe and Nicky because you know they’d love it too?

Andy all Cool and Haughty but secretly/not-so-secretly loving Little Old Lady and just, yessss.

They get the same treatment from all of Joe and Nicky’s neighbors they run across just to get to their apartment.

And when they finally get there it’s like. If they didn’t know something went down before all that, they sure as hell know now, you know?

Andy just gives them this look because of course this isn’t the first time something like happened with Joe and Nicky.

And, sure. They probably told Andy about it all as a precaution/matter of habit in case Something Happened to/with them? But they also handled it fine on their own, but now she and Nile get all the juicy details that couldn’t/always sound better in person over drinks and food and family meeting up again and yeah.

AND.

Some poor cop following up on Joe and Nicky or something only to be greeted by Andy (possibly holding her axe not in its carrying bag because cleaning/sharpening/honing it or Deep Emotional Moment involving it and probs a flashback or whatever) and is just

!!! before telling her why they’re there and getting the hell out as soon as they  can because they’ve heard stories about The Incident with Joe and Nicky and there were swords involved?

Like.

Actual swords???

And now some lady has an axe??????

So, yes???

I feel I glossed over Joe and Nicky and their stupid adorable lives with the making dinner together and in-jokes and absent-minded kisses in the morning or in passing whenever?

Bickering/teasing and stealth!kisses.

(Also? Sparring and swordplay because they wouldn’t want to get sloppy! Also stealing kisses and pinned to surfaces and cocky grins/smirks and you know how this kind of thing goes, so yeah.)

But also, also.

I don’t know how alcohol affects them with the whole immortality/healing thing they’ve got going on? I’d assume they can’t really get drunk anymore, but!

The thought of Joe being a little tipsy or what have you while Nile is introducing the team to a movie or show and says something involving the phrase “It’s a love letter  to....” regarding a remake or genre or actor or what have you, right?

Only for Joe to be  “Love letter? Love letter?! They don’t know the first thing about love letters!” and goes off on a rant/composes a love letter on the spot to Nicky who is :DDDD and looking at Joe all sickeningly in love with him because yes, this is not a situation that deserves such ~passion for a thing? And yet, it’s Joe and he’s staring into Nicky’s eyes as he speaks and Nicky’s like, :DDDD because feelings and such. (Also, I feel Joe would finish his love letter to Nicky with another passionate kiss, so Nicky’s not about to interrupt him on that one, you know?

Meanwhile Nile is like “Please, no, this is the millionth time you’ve done this since I met you guys and I just want to show you this thing. I’m sorry I said anything, Andy please do something about them?”

Andy’s sitting there like, ah, yes, my idiots all soft and fond and sappy as shit over her team/family as Nile tries to get Joe to maybe save his heartfelt love letter to Nicky for after the movie instead?

[mochideleche]

can’t keep away from fate | CH9

Pairing : Percy jackson x demigod!reader

summary : The daughter of destiny- literally, along with inevitability, compulsion and necessity. Being the child of a primordial goddess doesn’t really assure you a quiet, calm life but when you return to new york after five years of being shipped off to boarding school, your once mundane life says goodbye.

A/N thank you all for all the lovely support and messages, they honestly make my day uwu. Also! i’m so sorry for keeping you waiting but im giving myself a break from school work so here you go!

contents page

Normally percy would hate sleeping. As much as he needed it - which he found was very often these days, the nightmares were nothing to look forward to. 

However these day, percy found a little enjoyment in them. 

Sometimes he’d dream of kronos and his army, luke’s golden eyes, camp half blood but now he saw dreams of you. 

It had been a few months since he’d seen you, since he kissed you- percy always relived the moment, snapping back to reality to find himself smiling like an idiot and flushing red, but his dreams were the only way he could see you. 

Undoubtedly, Percy tried to iris message you, but to no avail, you’d never be reached or the line would go black every time it went through. 

That worried him. 

He’d brought it up to chiron the first time it happened, but chiron suggested that you were probably cutting the line of yourself- if luke had somehow got to interfere with the iris messages he’d figure out what you were doing. 

Sometimes when percy made visits to camp he’d see new faces along with hearing about the heroic journeys the children had taken to get to camp along your side. 

“She was so cool!” one of the kids who percy had asked about their arrival (obviously wanting to hear about you), “She fought off this army of half dog half seal men with just waving her hands!” 

You had acquired a new nickname, ‘the guardian angel’ seeming the way you delivered demigod kids safely to camp so stealthily that they wouldn’t even had known it until the children popped up on half blood hill. Then you were gone without a trace again, off to find other demigods. It sometimes pained percy that you were frequently within reachable bounds to camp but he never got to see even a glimpse of you. 

There were also rumours, which were most definitely true, about how luke’s ranks were decreasing in number- random disappearances, as nico di angelo had described them as, of your doing. 

“I sensed her presence when i was in the forests of new jersey,” nico explained to the counsellors during one of their meetings, “along with about 2 dozen  laistrygonian giants and by the time that i got there-” he clicked his fingers and scrunched his eyebrows in confusion “they were both gone” 

Gosh somehow it made percy feel bad that all he could do was sit back and wait whilst you were out there surviving on your own and fighting monsters and saving children. 

What a hero he was. 

Yes, he was fated to fight with the titan lord but right now, he was busy fighting his math homework.

Percy stared dejectedly at his unfinished work, gods he missed you. 

The way you’d laugh when he did something stupid, the way you smelt like magnolias, the way you would place your hands on his to comfort him and the way you seemed like nothing bothered you and how you say everything would always turn out right.

Percy definitely needed to be told that right now. 

------

Whenever percy felt like he was done for, he’d think about you. Even if he did just see one of his friends sacrifice his life, had an arrow shot through his leg and was falling 20 feet towards a huge mass of water- he was able to keep himself just that little bit more hopeful by just thinking about you.

I need to see her again, Percy thought as he his collided with the water. 

He blacked out and was immediately pulled into a dream. 

He found himself on top of Mount Othrys in a greek pavilion of black marble that seemed to blend in with the shadows. Through the darkness he was able to make out two giant figures : one seemed to glow against the black walls of the building and the other seemed to melt into them. 

“Quite an explosion” one remarked.

“it doesn’t matter, our army shall rise again to destroy the gods” the other snided. 

“hm, quite so,” the other agreed calmly, “but the demigods are becoming more, diligent. First the disappearances of our troops and now the explosion, right in front of kronos’ nose, ha”

Percy’s heart dropped, he knew what was causing those disappearances- it was you. What if they find out it was you? what would they do? would they try and track you down? kidnap you?-

“This would have not happened if you would let me fight!” a voice shouted and percy realised that there were in fact three giants there, crouched below in the centre of the room under what percy thought to be a statue was the titan atlas. 

he struggled under the weight of the sky, a swirling funnel cloud, but still managed to strain his voice to argue, “let me out! take my place!”  

But before Percy could watch any further his dream shifted. The voices became quiet- they were distant, he was no longer standing in the greek pavilion but about 20 feet away, standing behind one of the supporting columns and beside nico di angelo.

The boy faced him, “You see percy, we’re running out of time, do you really think we can win without my plan?” 

The fact that nico had seen him shocked percy enough but his message was more than enough to shake percy to try and wake himself up from his dream. 

But the image began to fade and he found himself off of mount Othyrs and in a more flattened out land.

At first he thought he was in the forests of long island but he noticed the trees here were thicker, Their branches coming down lower than the ones around camp and the air was more chilly. This was not New York. 

Percy tried to take in his surrounds then caught his breath. 

There standing behind a large oak tree was a petite girl with her long hair flowing down her back, wearing an army jacket and black ripped jeans and holding out two long drakon bone swords. 

You looked distressed. Your face was pulled into a slight scowl as you peered around the tree and into the forest behind you. Percy knew you were in some sort of trouble but he couldn’t help but smile.

But the smile quickly disappeared when an arrow shot out of nowhere and embedded itself in the oak tree you were standing behind. 

You broke out into a run and percy followed in suit. 

Unknowingly, percy reached into his pocket and pulled out riptide, his first instinct was to fight whatever wanted to hurt you but he quickly realised that there wasn’t much he could do so could only keep up pace beside you. 

Most dreams you were in seemed heavenly to percy, but this was a nightmare. 

Seeing you need his help but not being able to do anything killed percy. Of course he had no doubt that you could handle anything by yourself, but then again, you wouldn’t be running away if you could. 

Despite not actually running percy found that he was becoming short of breath, you were an awfully fast runner.

“Percy you’ve done so well, but I think it’s time you woke up”

Percy’s head snapped towards you. you were staring right at him.

You glanced away momentarily to keep track of where you were going before placing your gaze on him again, “I miss you” 

Percy was at a lost for words. Months he’s spent trying to contact you, dreamt of you, trying to reach out to you and now, when time was limited, you had answered him and not only that, you were telling him to go away. 

“Y/N-” but the scene began to fade and percy panicked, why of all times he had to start waking up now?

He felt himself began to slip into consciousness but he stubbornly did his best to try to go back to sleep. 

but alas, your soft smile disappeared along with the dream as percy’s eyes shot open. 

----

Percy didn’t think things would go so downhill. If anyone told him that the highlight of his week would be a midnight panic with a goddess, the son of hades and a hell hound, he’d pretty much expect it. 

As he sat down by the magical fire, he got some time to think. 

After being told that he’d end up dying either way and committing to a plan that would probably speed up the process, he was pretty miserable.

“things will only turn out that way if you think they will” 

Your voice echoed in percy’s head, it had become a sort of habit every time he found himself thinking negatively.

Yeah but it’s in the prophecy princess, i die no matter how positively I think. 

Then a sudden pain stabbed percy in the heart, If he didn’t survive nico’s plan he wasn’t going to see you again. 

He was hoping some how you’d turn up in the next few days, (after nico assured him that you in fact were still alive and he had not felt your death- but that only gave percy temporary relief) He knew there just had to be a way he would see you before his destined fight, you were the daughter of fate after all- maybe you had to like... force great prophecies like this...? it was ridiculous but thoughts like this made percy hopeful.

“you are distressed” Hesita commented and percy was worried that she could read his thoughts. 

“the time will come and you will know what the right decision is” the goddess said vaguely

“Uh, thanks” Percy nodded, not knowing what else to say and the goddess return to attending the hearth, why couldn’t gods ever speak plain english?

----

Percy had been to the underworld when he was 12. It was a long, tiring trip that took them to los Angeles and had nearly killed him bout 7 times. And only now did he find out about an entrance to hell which was literally 20 minutes away from his house- brilliant. 

the stairs to hell were exactly how percy imagined them, dark, slippery and narrow. The only way he could actually see was by the light of his sword and the fact that mrs o’leary bounding down the stairs noisily reassured him that the stairs didn't end in a great drop to an endless pit to Tartarus. 

Nico lagged behind, a look of doubt evident of his face. 

“You alright?” percy dared to ask, hoping the boy wouldn't become defensive at the question.

Nico nodded, but opened his mouth to say something, “i saw her you know” 

Percy stopped, saw who? he thought for a quick second then immediately knew nico meant you. 

By this point nico had caught up with percy and stood just two steps behind him, “ She- when we first met she offered me the keys to her apartment”

“She what?” Percy interrupted, too surprised not to. he knew that you owned an apartment in Queens- a gift from your father for when you stayed in New York, and he knew that whatever you and nico had talked about had stayed between the two of you, but this? Why didn’t he get keys to your apartment?  

Nico turned away to avoid eye contact, percy realised he must have been staring at him hard and tried to change his expression 

“She told me that i could stay there anytime if i needed it. I wasn’t going to step near that place at all. But one night i got into an argument with my father and had nowhere else to go...”

Nico trailed off and percy was worried that he was beginning to back track on himself and regret ever saying anything to Percy, but thankfully after a deep inhale of breath, he continued. 

“I was only planning to stay there for a few hours, but it just so happened she was there too. She was asleep but it seemed like she was having a bad dream. kept murmuring things-”

Nico shuddered, “I woke her up in the end and asked her about it but she shook it off. Moved the subject onto the fact that i had actually taken up her offer and decided to make me dinner. What she said though- it, it seemed important”

“What did she say?” percy asked, if nico was scared then he knew this was serious. 

“Something about to storm or fire the world must fall” 

Percy looked up at nico’s face, he seemed as disturbed as he was back at mrs castellan’s house. Panic rose up within percy.

“It’s probably nothing though” nico shrugged but percy could tell that he didn’t mean it at all, but despite that nico walked past percy and continued down the stairs, “we should hurry up, we’re losing valuable time”

Percy had no other option but to follow and wonder, why did nico chose to bring this up now?

.....

“Percy!”

before he was fully awake, percy had reached out and pinned nico to the floor with his sword pressed against his neck. 

“we-have-to-get-out-of-here” nico struggled.

“Oh yeah? and why should i trust you?” percy growled, pressing down harder.

“No-other-choice?”

Percy rolled his eyes, he really did have no other choice. 

He stood up as nico curled to the side and retched up for air. Percy would’ve almost felt sorry for him if he hadn’t just betrayed him to his father. 

“Does your dad want to ‘talk’ again?” Percy seethed and nico sat himself up.

“honestly percy i had no idea, he tricked me!” 

“You know what your dad is like!”

“Yeah but-” nico paused and stood up, quickly realising that there was no point in reasoning, “If we don't hurry, we’ll never get out” 

Percy nodded once and allowed nico to take the lead as they plunged into darkness. 

by the time the two of them had reached an exit via the palace kitchen, percy was half dragging, half carrying nico who spent every other minute pointing at skeleton guards or zombie servants and knocking them out before they could think about stopping the two escape. 

Problem was, nico was going to be knocked out pretty soon too. 

“Stop that” Percy said, “your power drains you too much” 

by this time nicos legs stopped working all together and percy had no choice but to swing the younger boy over his shoulder.

“With great power,” nico said drowsily, “comes great need to take a nap” 

Then the sound of a great gong echoed throughout the building. 

“Alarms” nico said drowsily from behind percy, “Mrs O’leary” 

“Right” percy said, and whistled. 

Mrs O’leary came bounding across the fields of asphodel, probably excited to be back in her own grounds, and circled percy who desperately tired to throw nico onto her back. 

“Hey, girl, think you can get us to the river styx?” Percy asked as calmly as possible, despite the sounds of a thousand skeletons footsteps coming their way.

Mrs o’leary barked in response and bounded off into the fields. 

On approaching the river bank, Percy force fed Nico some ambrosia. He was scared that he had given him too much but the boy was knocked out pretty good. But after a few shakes of his head, nico was steady enough to stand on his own two feet. 

the two boys slid off Mrs O’Leary’s back and ran towards the river.

“Percy you need to prepare yourself” nico said cautiously, causing percy’s stride to slow.

“How do I do that?” Percy asked and nico shook his head.

“You know I don’t think this is a good idea-” 

“What?! this was your plan in the first place!” 

“Yeah but-” nico seemed to struggle for words but exhaled as if he was angry and shook off his previous statement, “Think of a point on your body which will tie you back to reality and don't stop thinking about it otherwise the river will burn you to ashes, okay?” 

“You know what maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all-”

“Percy!” 

“Right right,” percy defended, inching closer towards the river.

at first when he nico had proposed the idea, percy had a long think of where the point would be. Somewhere difficult to reach during combat, maybe his armpit? but then he decided he wanted it to be somewhere more dignified. 

he hadn’t thought on the matter since then, which was pretty stupid since the decision could possibly end or save his life but as his foot touched the river he knew exactly where he wanted it. 

Percy wanted to walk cooly into the river, but as soon as the water touched his legs, his muscles went numb and he fell face flat into the water. 

Then he stopped breathing.

It was terrible, this was the first time he struggled to breath underwater and the thought terrified him. images from the past few days flashed before his eyes in the darkness, beckendorf, rachel, grover and even lukes golden eyes.

instead of resulting to panic, percy kept thinking of that point, the one point where his life would end in a single blow, thinking about how that was his connection to the living world. 

“You alright?” you said suddenly as you came to stand next to percy.

Percy jumped, he hadn’t heard you or sensed you coming up behind him, (although you were getting better at hiding you presence) and he flashed you a smile, “Yeah, just thinking” 

“About what?” you asked calmly. 

He stared at your face, it was always so stoic, as if you couldn’t care less about what he said but he knew that you genuinely cared for his happiness as much as your own. 

“You” 

Your eyes widened as you turned away but percy was able to catch that small flash of blush before you did, “shut up” 

percy laughed, a genuine laugh that came from his stomach, you were just so damn cute.

he wasn’t exactly thinking of you, so to say, he was thinking about you amongst other things such as how to kill kronos, how to become better at sword fighting, how to do question five on his trig homework. 

He faced the river again so that you would turn back towards him, which worked- of course. 

“Stop being so sad all the time will you?” you said light heartedly as you tapped percy on the small of his back, “you being sad makes me sad too just so you know, so stop it” and you began to jog past him towards the surf. 

percy struggled, trying to win the fight against the current but there was no use. He felt his arms and legs disintegrating and his soul felt like it was being ripped from his body.

he thrashed around in the coldness trying to reach for the surface and trying his best to keep thinking of his mortal point,

percy was on his last class of the day, he had set them a few drills to practice for the second half of the hour and was watching them with tired eyes. all he wanted to do was sleep. 

suddenly he felt a little poke on his back, at the bottom of his spine. 

“They’re doing well, aren't they?” 

Percy craned his neck to face you, your head tilted slightly to be able to see past his shoulders, your hands still rested just above his hips. 

“of course, i taught them” percy scoffed

“and so did i” you countered, “and just for your information, they enjoy my lessons better” 

“Who says?” percy laughed, uncrossing his arms and fully turning his body to face you.

“I do” you smiled, making percy’s knees go weak. 

Percy tried to push his way to the surface but it was no use, the more he moved, the faster he sunk. This is it, he thought, i’m going to burn alive in hell. 

“Sleeping again jackson?” 

immediately your fingers tapped the small of percy’s back and he peeled open one eye to see your figure silhouetted against the shine of the sun.

He had taken a nap on the deck, laying on his stomach, one arm under his face and the other hanging off the edge of the deck, and you were currently crouched down with a mocking smile on your face. 

“yes, and you're disturbing me” he slurred out and he turned his face to the other side.

“Oh i wouldn’t say this is distracting” you joked, “this is”

And you pushed percy into the water. 

-

Suddenly percy felt a tug at the bottom of his spine and he began to make his way to the surface. it was as if there was a bungee cord attached to the small of his back, pulling him back to the shore. he ignored the searing pain in his lungs, arms and legs and kept his focus on his mortal point. 

think of the small of your back, small of your back, small of your back...

he did his best to look up and through the darkness he could make an outline of a hand, reaching in to help him out.

“oh gods i’m so sorry, i didn’t know you’d be that off guard! now take my hand you idiot” 

percy reached out to grab your hand. 

He sputtered as air returned its way back into his lungs and he landed on the shore of the beach, but the sand felt more solid, oddly shaped, just like-

“Percy get off me! you’re heavy!” 

Percy pushed himself up and stared down at nico who was red in the face and soaking wet too, 

“S-sorry dude-” Percy stuttered, did he really just imagine nico was you?

He got to his feet then held his hand out to nico who ignored it and pushed himself up, was he really that angry that percy had squashed him?

“Uh- did it work?” Percy asked tentatively, scared that nico was more than just pissed. 

“I have no idea” nico responded, sounding surprisingly bitter, “feel different?”

“Not really” percy said slowly, but before he could apologise again for landing on nico a harsh voice shouted in the distance “THERE!”

The two boys’ head snapped to the top of the hill where about a hundred skeleton soldiers stood, weapons raised and all- eyes? they didn’t have eyes, all heads, faced towards them. 

Hades stood in his chariot, dressed in battle gear, his nightmare horses skittering on the ground as if they were eager to stampede over percy’s body, “You will not escape this time jackson, DESTROY HIM”

“father no!” nico exclaimed but a line of british red coat skeletons charged with their rifles aimed.

Mrs o’leary did not hesitate to pounce at them and that tiggered percy.

He didn’t want his dog getting hurt just because hades was being a dick, and he charged without any other thought. 

If he was going to die, he wanted to die fighting. 

Percy was reckless, but this? this was a whole other level, damn- even another building. He charged straight through their lines, slashing his sword, not even thinking about where to strike but just did. 

Bullets? didn't hit him. Swords? couldn’t cut him. Clubs? couldn’t even get an inch near him.  (Hotel? Trivago.)

He’d successfully tore his way through the ranks and pounced right over hades’ horses and grabbed the god by his collar and pinned him to the ground.

Silence. 

Percy was expecting skeletal hands to come down on him but as he looked around, there was nothing there- they were all gone.

“listen here jackson...” the god said.

“No you listen!” percy growled, “tell me about the trap!” 

but the god just snarled and melted into darkness, leaving percy’s hands closed around nothing.

“You killed them all...” nico said dazed, breaking percy out of his cursing spree.

Percy stopped and looked around him, there was nothing apart from the three of them, a bunch of bones and a variety of weapons.

“I guess it worked then” percy offered.

“Oh gee” nico said sarcastically, “you think?”

the two of them stood silent momentarily and percy stared at nico.

He’d come a long way from where he began, and percy still felt like that it was his fault that nico became so bitter. 

“You should go back to your father” percy started.

Nico looked shocked to hear this, “no, I want to fight-”

“You’ll be better off down here” Percy said, the harshness in his voice surprising even him. 

the look of hurt on nicos face made him feel guilty, “I mean, we need your father to fight on our side, you’re the only one who can convince him” percy continued, trying to sound kinder.

“You don’t trust me anymore, do you?” nico said dejectedly. 

Percy was shocked, did he trust him? 

“Work on him. I know you can do it” 

Percy couldn’t help but notice how nicos face lit up slightly after hearing him, “thanks but don't get your hopes up” 

“Okay, I’ll see you for the battle, me and Mrs O’leary will head up now” Percy said, waving over his hell hound.

“Where are you going?” nico asked, tilting his head as percy jumped on Mrs O’leary’s back.

Percy smirked, “to start a war” 

[itsthebiiii]

A messy summary of Ikepri Yves’ route from chap 16

Hey so it's me again lol. I know I'm SUUUPER late to the party and Nokto's route is out mah boiiiiis, but I finally finished one of the endings and I'm here to deliver them delicious spoilers so... here they are under the cut. Also, somehow more detailed than the last one but it's still as messy don't worry

also, sorry if there are any errors or inaccuracies!

So about that plot, well, some shit is going down that requires the princes to go to battle so they do that (once again, breezed through that part 😅). MC's quite worried bout Yves but he promises he'd return so they gucci.

While on the battlefield, everyone's all exhausted and full of blood on their hands, well, except for Yves. Leon and the gang noticed how he doesn't kill any one of the Obsidian soldiers and he just kept pushing them down. I think Yves was doing this because he doesn't want to kill one of his own because, no matter what he's got some Obsidian blood in his veins. Anyway, they notice a soldier about to attack Yves from behind, but before anyone could bat an eye, Licht comes to his rescue and gets injured. And yall know the drill, Yves feels guilty, yada yada.

After three days, the princes return and MC welcomes them. She noticed everyone looked messed up except for Yves, and when she called him it seemed like he didn't even hear her. MC is concerned bout what happened out there, but before she could ask some more, Jin asks her to take care of Licht's wound. She agrees, and while tending to his injury, Licht tells her what happened. He also told her there's one thing MC can do for Yves, but before he can say what, Jin and Clavis barges in the room with impeccable timing and some booze, announcing that they're gonna drink up for getting out alive so they gather everyone up lolol they rowdy af. Yves doesn't show up tho which makes MC even more worried

MC immediately comes to a realization that Yves might be blaming himself for what happened to Licht so she searches for him until she finds him in the kitchen. He still looked like he wasn't himself, so MC tries comforting him until he snappedt and tried pushing her away (I swear these two) Yves was like "yo wtf why do you even care for me I don't deserve that shit" and then that scene from the PV happens. Yves cried bout how much he hates himself more than anyone does and he wishes he was someone that ain't him. MC just stayed silent and listened to him pour his heart out ugh poor boi

Some time later, the princes gathered up again because they received a letter(?) from Obsidian. It said they want Rhodolite to send Yves back to Obsidian or else some shit will go down. They obviously think it's a trap of some sort but Yves agrees anyway so... that's decided. MC doesn't know of this until she hears from Luke. She rushes to Yves' room and saw him packing up. MC was also apprehensive about him going (or returning?) to Obsidian, but Yves just smiled and told her not to worry or smth. Also he was like "remember all that crap I told you that night at the kitchen? Sike, those were L I E S" and MC's just like "ye right" but because she was unable to form a response to any of that, she left the room teary eyed, with Yves also equally sad. MC returns to her room and while crying her heart out she realizes one teensy tiny detail: she's in love with Yves *insert surprised pikachu face*

So the day came for Yves to depart, but MC decides to stay in her room. Rio sees her in her state and told her "the MC I know and love wouldn't sulk around in her room smh go out there and chase yo mans" and after some persuasion MC heads out. She managed to catch up to Yves and talk to him for like 3 minutes. Also in those 3 minutes, she finally confessed her feelings and kissed him (Yves: 😲 guards: 😳😳😳) She's like "ye remember when I said I won't fall for u? Ye that kinda happened so I guess I'm yours for all of eternity" She also says she'll be waiting for him and gives him her memo pad before he leaves.

In the carriage, Yves reads MC's notes, there were some notes written about the princes but later they soon become notes about what they had done together: going to town, eating sum food, etc. He realizes that she turned it into a whole ass diary and it was mainly about him 😭 Yves was like "girl don't even know this ain't a diary... baka na no??? *sad princely sobbing*"

Back at the castle, the remaining princes gathered up again, this time with MC, and they talked about Obsidian's real motives. They talked about how Yves shouldn't have gone to Obsidian because the moment he interacts with them, he could or would get killed. MC was worried as she listens to them making plans and when Licht decided he would go first to retrieve Yves, he drags MC along with him because he's good at reading expressions and our girl MC here really wants to be useful to the story.

Meanwhile, Yves' carriage suddenly stops and one of his soldiers alerts him that there's a fuckton of Obsidian soldiers ahead and Yves realizes they've been set up. He instructs his men to return to the castle and leave him, also he warns them that there miiiight be some more Obsidian peeps on their way back so he commands them to get out alive. Despite their apprehension, well they had to obey Yves so they did just that.

MEANWHILE meanwhile, Licht and MC go to Obsidian (I don't recall if they bumped into Yves' army but meh) and they stay back a bit to watch stuff unfold. There, they see Yves talking to some Obsidian leaders or smth and the leaders were talking shit to him bout how worthless he actually is and all that crap. They were like "yo you're cursed with sum bad magic huh" Yves was like "Ye, I thought so too. But ya know what? I met someone who kept looking at me straight in the eye and focused on all my good aspects. That person made me stop denying myself. (MC: oh shiz he's talking about the stuff I told him before he left) So no matter how much I didn't want to accept myself, no matter how much I wished to be someone else, I mustn't deny the me that she believed in, I mustn't give up on myself! So ye. I'm Yves Kloss, the 5th Prince of Rhodolite!" YES my boi gain that confidence!!!

So the Obsidian peeps were like "btch u done with ur last words? Just so u know the men u let escape are prolly dead anyway so, how bout u die too aye? Pls die" and when the Obsidian soldiers point their blades at him, Licht decides it was a good time to show up

So ye, before Yves could take a blow, Licht blocked it with his sword. Yves was like "wtf r u two doing here???!" And MC replied with "we're saving you, duh" and Licht backs her up with "ye what she said" the Obsidian peeps were all ???? but they decided to kill them two as well. MC's like "ye no we have back up otw" but the Obsidian peeps thought she was just fronting. So Yves and Licht decides to buy them more time by fighting (but not killing) them. They may be strong but they're exhausted as well, then one soldier finds an opening and aims for Licht. Yves sees this and gets in front of Licht, getting his arm injured in the process.

They try stalling for a few more minutes until the gang finally arrives and they're relieved Yves and Licht are still alive. Jin was like "yo wtf we didn't agree to send Yves here just to get our princes killed in a place like this" and the Obsidian guys are like "we just wanted to welcome Prince Yves until he pointed his sword at us 👉👈🥺💦" but Jin and the other princes obviously ain't buying that crap.

So playtime's over and after all that political stuff, Leon's like "aye Yves, since u have Rhodolite and Obsidian blood, ur technically our bridge, so wtf do we do now?" And Yves says the four kingdoms should sign a peace treaty and also form an alliance to end all those beef. MC's happy for him because he finally achieved his dream of uniting Rhodolite and Obsidian through him. And ye, everybody agrees so everybody happy

BUT WAIT! Sariel announces that Belle needs to choose the next king at that very moment (like wtf couldn't they wait until they get home?) But hey, since they're forming alliances anyway. So MC's pressured and all until she realizes, ayo wait up... ya'll know what the kingdoms need? Not one, not two, but EIGHT leaders! "Ye fam, I appoint all 8 princes to lead the kingdoms... momentarily until I make my final decision." Sariel's like "That ain't allowed" and MC responds with "I know fam. But the kingdoms are in a pretty unstable situation, and we need these 8 dudes to support the kingdoms... after everything is settled and stable again do I choose the king" and they were like "if that's what Belle says, then aight smh" Then everyone finally goes home, but not before Yves and MC shares a moment and Yves faints or falls asleep due to exhaustion

Back at the castle, MC is summoned by Sariel and he shows her there is only one petal left of the rose. He tells her "I know you've technically done your job, but until you choose A KING, will you stay in the castle?" Of course MC agrees and Sariel tells her that he thinks she made the best decision for the situation.

After MC leaves, Yves enters the room and asks Sariel if he has seen MC. Sariel has half a mind to tell the truth, but where's the fun in that right? He tells Yves that MC's preparing to leave since she has done her job and according to the Belle clause, 'once the king is chosen, Belle can't interact with or see him forever' or smth like that and Yves was like "Screw that bs!" and ran to MC's room immediately, leaving Sariel to laugh in evil 😏

In her room, MC was worried about Yves' wounds so she decides to pay him a visit, when she hears knocks on her door that she recognizes was Yves'. He wasted no time entering the room and pinning MC to her bed (SQUEAAAAL) and she was like "??? ya good fam?!" And Yves replied "WHERE TF DO U THINK UR GOING HUH??"

(Ya know what I think imma put a bit of their convo here lol)

MC: To see you?

Yves: And what? So you can say goodbye and tell me we won't see each other forever? BAKA

MC: ...Eh?

Yves: I don't care what Sariel or the others decided. I can't accept this! MC, I can't even take it when you're not beside me... what will I do if we can't see each other ever again? Just thinking about it makes me crazy... You said you'll be mine forever, didn't you? Then I... I'm yours forever as well! Because I was the one who fell (in love) first!

MC: !!!

Yves: I love love LOVE you, you idiot! So don't go saying we won't be together! The Yves Kloss won't allow that even if the world turns upside down! (not sure about that last part)

SO YE. As much as that warmed MC's heart, she was like "i ain't going anywhere. Bruh Sariel's messing with u" and Yves is EMBARRASSED but he doesn't deny it anyway. He decides to say some more cute stuff so lemme put it down here xD

"MC, a lot of unexpected things happened in my life. But the most unexpected thing that happened to me is falling in love with you. Even though I swore I would never fall for you, I noticed I have. You said you were the first one to fall for me, but I think my feelings for you are bigger. MC, I'm stupidly in love with you."

And they argue about who loves the other more lolol then they do the deed 🤭

So some time passed, and the other princes were throwing MC some pickup lines (they were teasing Yves about taking the crown and the MC lolol) and Yves just stood there like "fam?? Aren't yall a lil too close?? Sariel help!!1! Licht and Chevalier too???" And he whisks MC away to his room. The other princes just smiled fondly at the two and Leon comments, "Maybe just meeting someone can fill up the gaps in a person's heart" and he recalls how they tried filling Yves' loneliness but somehow could not fill up the last piece. Until MC shows up and did just that. Jin was like "heh, that sounds like destiny" and Leon confirms that it is 🥺

Back at Yves' room, he has MC pinned down again and he declares that he needs to do his best to continue staying by MC's side. And MC says "me too fam" then she asks him a very important question: "Do you still want to be someone other than you?"

And he replies with:

"It's because you showed me my good traits and loved me for who I am that I don't hate the me I am now. Besides, if I were someone else, then I wouldn't be able to fall in love with you like this. It's because I'm like this, that you found me. That's why, from the bottom of my heart, I'm happy I'm me; I'm happy I did my best to live" ugly sobbing in the background 😭😭😭

So that beautiful CG appears, and Yves tells MC that line, "When I fell in love with you, it's as if the bad magic disappeared. Thank you... for teaching me what true love is."

A few days later, the two were at the library and Yves tells MC that before, he never knew what love is. But of course it's different now, because he tells her, "For me, the meaning of love is... you, MC."

~FIN~

YALL I'M STILL SOBBING BRUUUH 😭😭😭 this whole route was a blast 100/10 would read again (after I finish Nokto, I guess lolol) But ye. Yves is my best boi in IkePri because I'm a sucker for these tropes it's just so sooooft.

So I'm still undecided whether I should read the epilogue or nah because I need like 20 more affection pts? and I really wanna do Nokto's route... idk man

Well this was longer than I expected, so if you reached the end, have some more leFtOvERs from Yves! 🥧

[dhwty-writes]

Goodbyes

We’re almost done! Part 6 of @heyabooboo‘s gift for @thewitchersecretsanta.

I'M SORRY! I know it was mean to end the last chapter like that, but I couldn't resist. I won't keep you waiting any longer, here's the second to last chapter: 

Summary: Jaskier has lost the Game of Fools. Before he says goodbye forever, he asks for one last favour.

Moodboard by the amazing @petrificustotaluss

Warnings: references to depression

Read on AO3

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7

'It truly is the softest silk,' he thought as the white robes settled on his body. 'The chains are a bit heavy, though I suppose shackles are meant to be.' Maybe he could bargain to be relieved of those later. He had a lot of time, now.

He blinked his eyes open to see he had traded places with Geralt. He was kneeling at the deity's feet while the witcher stood before him; bloodied and bruised, his hair a matted mess, clad in black leather. "Jaskier," he whispered, disbelievingly.

Slowly, a smile spread on his face. "There," he said softly. "That's better."

"What- no! What is happening?" Furious, he turned to the deity, all the docile tranquillity that now settled in Jaskier's mind gone, replaced with outrage, disbelief, fear. "We made a deal," his voice was quivering uncharacteristically. "You said you'd leave them be as long as I'd stay. You said you wouldn't lay a finger on him!"

There was something strange about Geralt's statement, something that Jaskier's clouded mind couldn't quite grasp. "It's alright," he promised just as the deity answered: "We did. Until he offered a better one. I might be a god, but he chose this fate and there is nought that I can do. Just as little as you. There is no entity stronger than the own free will of a man. He will stay until the day that he completes the task."

Jaskier blinked slowly. That might be the most the deity had said to him since his arrival. "Task?" he echoed weakly. When had talking become so hard? "What task?"

"Funny that you should ask." They carded their fingers through his hair and he couldn't help but lean into the touch. It still burned, though not as much as when he had touched them before. "I already told you," they soothed. "Follow the rules, that's all you have to do."

"Free will or not," Geralt growled, "I am not about to accept this. It is my own free will to say that I am staying. Let him go."

"I can't," they answered simply, "and I shan't. Your soul belongs to me no more, that's what he is paying for. It was won, fair and square. You can go, he'll be fine within my care."

"No!" he insisted and stepped forward, one hand already going for the sword.

They held up their hand in warning. "Go ahead and draw your sword," they said, almost sounding amused, "and you'll end up where you were before. With no-one to save you anymore. Your freedom was won, so go on: leave."

Helpless, Jaskier watched as the witcher growled and narrowed his eyes and the deity raised their hand, lighting curling around it. He had to do something. "Wait!" he blurted and leapt to his feet before he even knew what he was doing. Both of them turned to him. "I— I should be granted a favour, I believe."

Geralt's brows knit together in confusion, but the deity only chuckled. "And why is that?"

"For putting up a fight."

They crossed their arms defiantly, but at least the lightning stopped. "Alright. Ask your favour, then."

"I won't see him again," it wasn't a question. "This is no realm that welcomes him. I— May I say my farewell? There's... one last truth I need to tell."

Suddenly, their expression softened. "Be my guest."

Carefully, and with shaking knees Jaskier inched towards Geralt. He was half expecting the deity to withdraw their permission halfway there, but then he was standing next to his witcher and being pulled into a tight embrace. He almost forgot to breathe and was gasping for air once Geralt released him again. Though that might also be attributed to the sobs shaking his body.

"I'm sorry," he whispered quietly enough that he hoped that the deity couldn't hear them. Those were very slim hopes, however.

"Don't be," Geralt lied, "it's not your fault."

Jaskier's heart clenched. 'Only that it is.' It was him who had been foolish enough to enter into this world. Who had been foolish enough to challenge a god. Foolish enough to think he could win. 'It was always going to end like this.'

"Jaskier," he said insistently, "Jaskier, look at me." Slowly, he raised his gaze to comply. "I won't leave you here to your demise. I will come back for you and I will get you out of here. You know that right, you—"

"No," he shook his head adamantly. "No, Geralt, please don't—"

But the witcher didn't hear him, and if he did, the selective deafness stroke again: "I won't let them take you away from me, do you understand that? You just need to be a bit patient, alright? Wait for me."

"I won't," he replied with a steadier voice than he would have thought possible.

"Jaskier—"

"Shh, Geralt." He put a finger over his witcher's lips to shut him up. "We don't have much time. Just once in your life I need you to listen to me. Can you do that?"

"Just—"

"Can you do that?" he asked again, more insistently this time. Geralt nodded slowly and Jaskier wet his lips with his tongue nervously. "When I came here, I was fully aware that this outcome was an option," he began explaining quietly. “Not my preferred one, of course, but an option nevertheless. I wouldn't have entered this world if I hadn't been willing to bear the consequences."

He breathed in and out shakily. "I am more than willing to stay if it means that you walk free. If you— If you want to help me, there's one thing you can do."

"Anything," Geralt said. It sounded so desperate that for one moment Jaskier could imagine that he knew the extent of such a promise. So desperate that for one moment he almost regretted what he had done.

'Focus,' he told himself. He was doing this for Geralt, after all. "I need you to wake up. I need you to go back to your sorceress and your child surprise, your brothers and your friends, all the people you love. And then—" He gulped. "And then I need you to forget about me. Do not come back. Do not bargain for my release. Do not go looking for a cure, for there is none. I will return when my time is done, and maybe if the fates are kind, you and I will meet again."

"But—"

"No buts, Geralt. If you have any respect for me and our friendship, do as I say. Don't you dare waste what I just gave you. Don't you dare trade your soul for mine again, don't you dare waste your life with grief. Did I make myself clear?"

"Yes."

"Good." Jaskier nodded, his whole body trembling. "Good. One more thing. There's something I... have for you. A parting gift, if you will. One last song, if you will have it."

"I... I will. Always."

Jaskier nodded and pulled him down to his knees with him. He'd rather do that in a position where he might not be in danger of collapsing spontaneously. His lute appeared in his hands, his fingers settling on the strings as if it was as natural as breathing. He plucked the first notes, breathed in and— hesitated.

"Fuck," he cursed quietly. 'I can't do it, I can't—' It was the one song he had written that never was supposed to be heard. The one song he had only dared to compose when he was overcome with heartache and grief, incapable of keeping all those feelings inside without combusting. The one song that was nowhere to be found, not a single line written on so much as a scrap. And now he was supposed to sing it to the last person who was ever supposed to hear it?

"Jaskier," Geralt said sheepishly, almost ashamed, "I lied."

That was enough to snap him out of his spiralling thoughts. "What?!" What on earth was that damned moron talking about now? Jaskier was having an existential crisis, thank you very much, and—

"I lied," he said again. "So many times. Your singing is no annoyance, no fillingless pie. I love it and I do not yet know how I shall lead a life without it. Without you. Please. Don't be afraid of me."

Somehow, that was all it took. "Never," he promised. He could only hope that Geralt knew the truth of that statement. From the first moment he had seen him in that shitty tavern in Posada, Jaskier could never imagine to be afraid of him, witcher or not. And how could he be? How could he fear a man as fiercely loyal and stubbornly kind as Geralt?

'I'm not afraid of you,' he wanted to tell him, but Geralt, as a witcher, as the Butcher of Blaviken, was feared by so many people. He couldn't allow him to believe for even a moment that Jaskier even thought about doing so himself. And so, there was nothing to be done but sing:

"I found you when you were so lonely

And I was on my own as well.

In spite of your nature, you took me in your heart,

Now I’ve got this story to tell.

 I could hear the song of our heartbeats.

Within but an hour I knew

That I will love you ‘til the end of all time.

Each day I fall for you anew.

 For you I’ll always wait

Although chance might tear our Paths asunder.

Against the whims of fate,

I will wait while you wander.

 A monster is roaming the forest,

I laugh as I hear a wolf howl.

No devil of hell is bloodcurdling or fright’ning,

They all fear the White Wolf’s growl.

 A demon they call you; I don’t care

‘bout that or if you love me.

My heart’s yours to keep, for better or worse

Your side is where I choose to be.

 My friend, I’ll always wait

Although chance might tear our Paths asunder.

Against the whims of fate,

I will wait while you wander.

 Your first laugh was brighter than sunshine.

When you laughed I did nearly faint.

But our life is not made of innocent pleasure,

Not this peaceful picture I paint.

 I’m cursed, for I fell for a wand’rer.

Your Path is so ruthless and long.

I’m twice cursed for my fate is that of a dreamer

I blink, and I turn, and you’re gone.

 My dear, I’ll always wait

Although chance might tear our Paths asunder.

Against the whims of fate,

I will wait while you wander.

 Now I wander through the dark wasteland

At the hour of loneliness

No moon, star, or sun to cast but a mere beam

As I long for your soft caress.

 A wealth of truths I failed to confess

In all of the poems you’ll miss.

The Path’s taking you far and farther afield

While I’m dreaming of your sweet kiss.

 My heart, I’ll always wait

Although chance might tear our Paths asunder.

Against the whims of fate,

I will wait while you wander.

 I sob as I curl up on my cot.

Without you my camp is too bare.

My terror’s my pillow, despair is my blanket;

I’m wishing that you were still there.

 I fear this time you won’t come back here

You’ve fallen into the abyss.

I wonder if I should have bid you farewell

With that accursed ill-fated kiss.

 My love, I’ll always wait

Although chance might tear our Paths asunder.

Against the whims of fate,

I will wait while you wander.

 Dear heart, I’ll always wait.

I swear I’ll always stay."

Jaskier gasped quietly as the song ended. His head spun and his breath came raggedly as if he had forgotten to breathe throughout his performance. Maybe he had. Still, he wiped at the tears on his cheeks, put on a brave smile and asked: "Well? How about a review? Three words or less."

"Hmm." Geralt was frowning deeply, his expression so clouded with a whirlwind of emotions that not even Jaskier had the slightest idea what was going on in his head. Then, finally, he said: "It's not true."

"What is not true?" he meant to ask. But before such words could leave his mouth, he was silenced by Geralt's lips. Taken aback by the sudden motion, he tensed up. 'Salty,' was his first thought, 'and wet.' Was Geralt crying, too? He could scarcely believe it. Geralt had told him witchers couldn't cry. But he'd also told him they couldn't blush, the liar.

A hand slipped into his hair, carding softly through it, while Geralt snaked an arm around his waist and— 'Oh,' he realised belatedly, 'Geralt is kissing me.' It took him a moment to process that shock before he remembered that kisses were supposed to be a two-man-act and that he should probably start kissing Geralt back.

'Great gods,' he thought, 'I can kiss Geralt back!' With a desperate whine he let his lute drop to the ground, for once uncaring for the consequences—this was a paranormal netherworld that existed beyond what any mortal could grasp with its mind, after all, he doubted the lute would mind—and looped his arms around Geralt's neck to pull him in tight. Because after years of endlessly seemingly unrequited pining he was finally allowed to.

And now all he got was one farewell kiss.

After what felt like an eternity, they pulled apart. "It's not true," Geralt said again. "You make it sound like I don't love you as well, and that's not true. I love you, Jaskier. It scares me, but I do, more than you can imagine."

"Oh. I love you, too." He kissed him again. If only he had known that earlier. That would have changed everything. Only that it wouldn't have. Geralt still would have entered into the ruin. Jaskier still would have followed him to the netherworld. He still would have lost. They still would have been doomed to spend their lives apart.

"Your time is up," the deity commanded with a booming voice.

"I'm sorry," Jaskier said again. "Farewell, my love," he whispered and kissed him one last time. "Don't wait for me."

Thunder roared.

He blinked.

He found himself looking eye to eye at the deity, who stared down at their chest in disbelief. "Thank you," they whispered as if they couldn't quite understand what was going on either. Lightning cracked like a whip. They groaned and sank to one knee. Jaskier surged forward to keep them from falling, but he wasn't fast enough.

Thunder roared. Wind surged up, mingling with the darkness receding from their body.

He blinked.

The shackles disappeared around his wrists and fell to the ground. "What—"

"Jaskier!" Geralt yelled, trapped on the other side of an impenetrable wall of storm clouds and lightning. "What's happening?"

"It hurts," they whimpered curling in on themself. "Please, it hurts so bad."

"What does?" Jaskier asked. "Tell me, how can I help you?"

An agonised scream escaped their lips. "My heart," they sobbed. Thunder roared again. A deep crack appeared on the grey, stony surface of their chest. "It's breaking again." The stone splintered further. The light filtering through the rifts was almost blinding. Not angry lightning, but soft, soothing sunlight.

"No," he said softly. "You're starting to feel again."

"I'm hurting!" they disagreed, their voice almost drowned out by the thunder of another crack appearing. "Don't you see? How can that be better than feeling nothing at all?"

"It will get better," Jaskier promised because there was nothing else, he could think of to say. "It hurts, but it will get better." And then, because apparently, he had lost his sanity somewhere in the netherworld, he surged forward and pulled them into a tight hug.

Thunder roared and the first wave of pain punched the air from his lungs. "Great gods," he wheezed. The trials had been barely a pinch in comparison. Still, he refused to let go.

"What are you doing?" they sobbed, uselessly shoving at his shoulders. "I'm hurting you." As if that would get him to let go. He was as stupid as a turd and as stubborn as a mule with no sense of self-preservation, after all. And he knew exactly how they felt. The emptiness. The numbness. The nothing. And the heartbreak, the agony when the stone encasing your heart finally crumbled away.

"I know," he said, pigheadedly holding them even tighter. "But alone you're hurting even more." He squeezed them and heard the stone crack again. "It will be over soon. It will be better."

Thunder roared. Lightning flared. They both cried and sobbed in unison.

He blinked.

The storm died and the wall of darkness around them dropped. Above the sun had reached its zenith, the sickly orange washed away.

He blinked. 

He was lying on the ground, his sweat-soaked hair plastered against his forehead and breathing heavily. When he stretched out his hand, he could feel the deity's next to his. "You did it," he whispered and grasped their fingers. Their touch was pleasant and warm, like a ray of sunshine after a cold spring day.

"No," they answered. "You did." They fought themself to their feet.

Jaskier's breath hitched. They were even more beautiful than before. Their body was still engulfed in swirling mist and snow, their skin still the same tan colour. But instead of darkness shrouding them, they were glowing now. Not with violently flashing lightning, but a soft reddish glow. 'Like the sky eternally stuck in sunset.' Their long hair floated behind them as if they were surrounded by water instead of air. And in their chest where the grey expanse of stone had been, was now a swirling sphere of golden light. They tilted their head to the side, their eyes sparkling kindly.

"Jaskier!" his attention was diverted by Geralt looming over him with a worried look on his face. "Are you alright? Talk to me, Jaskier, what happened."

"I'm fine," he croaked and let him pull him to his feet, leaning heavily on him, "I think."

"You are free to go," the deity answered in his stead, "if you wish so."

Geralt's grasp on his waist tightened at that. "I am?" Jaskier asked, confused. "But I lost."

"No, you paid the cost," they insisted and bowed their head. "With your song you freed me from my throne. A song to melt a heart of stone."

"I did? I didn't know."

"And maybe it's better so. Go now, both of you. Wake up, but be careful as you do. You are safe within this world, but on the journey back you're on your own. You'll have to find your way alone. Do not get lost."

Jaskier pried Geralt's arm away, to manage a deep bow. "Thank you," he said, earnestly grateful, "for your advice. And for keeping your word."

They smiled. "I might be a dreamer, coward, and a fool, but I am not a liar, too. Enjoy your freedom."

"We will," he promised and turned to Geralt. "Come on, love. It's time. Let's go home."

Geralt frowned darkly. "How do we do that?"

Jaskier chuckled. "Of course, you wouldn't understand," he mumbled with fond adoration. Geralt opened his mouth to say something, but Jaskier was faster: "It's easy," he promised. "As easy as breathing." He put his hand over Geralt's eyes. "Close your eyes," he instructed him. "Take a deep breath. Just like you taught me." He waited until his witcher's breathing evened out. "Good. And now, love, imagine waking up."

Geralt heaved another breath. Jaskier kissed him on the lips. "I'll be with you in just a moment," he promised.

He blinked.

“Jaskier,” the deity said softly. Geralt was gone and Jaskier found himself alone in an empty garden with a deity. He turned around to them. 

“He’s gone,” he whispered, relieved. 

“He is. You showed him how.” 

He gnawed on his lip, nervously. "Could Geralt have left at any time? Is this a prison of his design?"

They hummed thoughtfully, contemplating that question. "It is and it's not. He owed me, after all. But after paying his price, yes, he could have left." They sighed. "But," the deity continued, "he couldn't have."

"He could have never imagined," Jaskier whispered.

"No," the Deity said softly, then scrunched up their nose. "Are you certain it's him you want? You can do so much better than that."

"No," Jaskier answered with a dreamy smile. "I can't imagine that."

"Such words from you. I wouldn't have thought it possible." They smiled. "I have a question for you, too, flower, one answer that finally is due. Say it, friend, do not be shy, so this chapter finally can end. Tell me, who am I?"

He thought for a short while before answering: "I thought you were the patron of dreams, but here nothing is quite like it seems. Who you are, you want to know? You are who you create yourself to be. Just like I. Fate's around our necks like a noose, but what matters in the end is what we choose. I am not who I have been, nor am I who still will come. Reality will bow to your whim, and to mine, until I am gone. We are who we create, deity or not, we share the same fate."

"So, you do understand," they said, a satisfied smile spreading on their face. "From the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew you were divine as well."

"I am," Jaskier agreed, understanding. "You are not alone."

"Neither are you. There is a witcher waiting for you."

He smiled. "And I will go to him in just a moment," he promised, "but… What about you? What will happen when I’m gone?”

"You go back to your life," they answered with a sad smile, "I go back to mine. It will be fine."

"It won't." He frowned. "You will be lonely again."

"If that's Fate's will, so be it then."

He huffed. "I did not just bear the brunt of your pain only for it to happen all over again. What will you do when I'm not around anymore? What will you do when you turn to stone again?"

They laughed weakly and shook their head. "Your concern is cute, but uncalled for. Not even a god lives long enough to turn to stone twice in their life."

"Not even a god?" he frowned. "Can it happen to mortals, too?"

"Worry not, my flower dear," they replied. "You're not in danger here. Humans might grow still, but they die before they petrify. As will I, once the loneliness returns."

“In that case, friend, I have one last offer to present. A priest you want, you say?" He bowed with a flourish. "It would be my highest honour to take on that duty for you. I might not pray or know how to raise a temple But I can make people believe in you. I can make people imagine."

"That you can," they agreed. "The honour would be mine, priest." They held up their hand. "Before you go. Might you show me what you've created?"

"Of course. Come and look your fill."

He blinked.

There was a wooden door hovering in the air over the wintery garden. He turned the doorknob and stepped aside to let the deity peer through, but not before sneaking a glance as well.

The lake was still there, and it was still winter, too. But instead of the playing children there was a cottage on the shore, with a bench overlooking the scenery. On it sat an elderly couple, leaning against each other and smiling.

They smiled. "It's beautiful."

"Thank you. If you want it, it belongs to you. Talking flowers, birds, and all."

They giggled. It sounded strange out of their mouth, strange and familiar at once. "I should have known I'd find that in your world. I look forward to visiting."

"And I look forward to returning," Jaskier answered. "Invite us again once our days on earth are done. We will come."

"Once the day of both your deaths arrives, I will. But ‘till then I’ll stand guard, so that none without the other parts. So now: farewell."

He was hesitant almost when he said: "I shall be taking my leave."

"You shall. Good riddance, priest."

Jaskier stood and turned. "It was an honour meeting you," he said and bowed deeply. "Farewell, Nehaleni."

The deity looked almost surprised for a moment, but Jaskier was already imagining.

He blinked.

[thebargainingchip]

Blood Colors - Chapter 17

Masterlist

Pairing: Roan x Reader

Warnings: None

Previous Chapter

Chapter 1

Roan glanced at the door impatiently, he couldn’t form a scenario in his mind where you wouldn’t show up but if he thought a little deeper he could, and none of those scenarios were good. He glanced back to Clarke, there was something uneasy about her that he couldn’t quite place. “Where’s Abby and Marcus?” He interrupted her. Clarke stiffened a little as she does when something is particularly painful. That’s why Clarke is so tense.

“Taken by Trikru.” Clarke admitted.

“Indra finally betrayed you, and now there holding your most important hostage.”

“That's why Trikru thinks we won’t try to take back Polis.” Clarke explained.

“What’s so valuable about Polis?”  Clarke pulled a little box out of her pocket, battered and beaten, she slides open the top lid and picks something out. She brandishes the flame between her thumb and forefinger holding it up for them to see.

“This. This is what’s important.” Roan watches Clarke, she almost looms teary-eyed for a moment but as soon as she pockets the box with the flame inside the look is gone. Lexa is still very fresh in Clarke’s memory.

“So you want Azgeda’s help to take back Polis, what’s in it for us.” Echo pipes up behind him.

“You can rule over Polis until a new Heda can be selected.”

There’s a pause as he considers it, he can almost hear Echo running the risks behind him.

“On one condition.” Roan says finally breaking the silence after a pregnant pause. “We get to keep the flame until another commander ascends. When do we attack?”

“The day after tomorrow at dawn.” Clarke, Roan considered the conversation over, he turned to leave.

“Y/n left.” Clark said, both Roan and Echo turned back. “A messenger came to call her to you escorting party, they were attacked.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Echo relax, but he wasn’t so convinced. “Is the messenger still around?” Clarke nodded.

                                           ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

It was set, they would ride hard and fast for the border where they left their escort party and they would send word to all the towns in the outskirts of Azgeda gather a small troop to be utilized on the day after tomorrow. Roan sat uneasy on the horse lent to him, a big fellow, able to take the weight of dense muscles and armour. He glanced at Echo who mounted up beside him on her own bay. “Chit’s sketchi. (Something is wrong.)” Echo whispered, Roan glanced back at the messenger who had deliver the message to you. Echo got the idea. Finally there was a load call the gates began to open. “If you betray me, Clarke, you will live to regret it.” Roan called loudly as he spurred his horse forward.

As if on cue, they stepped out from every nook, behind every tree. Roan gathered his reins and spurred his horse into a canter, he circled back, Echo followed and before the messenger could react, his head was on the ground. Echo halted, sword out, blood splatter everywhere on her. Roan was still on the move, he could hear the mass of Trikru now, gathering before the gates of arcadia. Before anyone could realise Roan stood in front of Clarke sword to her neck. He spotted, Bellamy then as she yelled for Roan and his black eye confirmed his suspicions further.

“Where’s y/n?” Roan questioned, Clarke’s throat bobbed, she couldn’t run, he would catch up in no time.

“She’s not yours to bargain and trade with.”

“She’s not yours either, she should be able to make her own decisions.”

“You’re marrying her, you’re placing a target on her back.”

“She’s had a target on her back since you sent her to Azgeda.” He would do it, he would kill her, she would feel her betrayal, dying slowly as she drowned in her own blood. He knew he could, y/n would be safe, they wouldn’t kill her for this.

Just when he thought all hope was last, a war drum sounded and Roan paused, he pulled back, spinning to face the sound as he watched his scarred white-faced warriors appearing.

“I told you, you would regret this.” Clarke stood uneasily, tensed.

                                           ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The room was in complete chaos when Roan entered, things were haphazardly strewn about and immediately as he sets his sites on you he understands why. You were tied to the cot riving and tugging at the bonds. Jackson was nursing a furiously bleeding arm, he could tell you were out of it, your head lulling to the side. “You sedated her?” He questioned furiously at Clarke, Bellamy stepped in quick enough. “She didn’t want to come willingly.”

“No shit.” Roan barked. Echo stayed with Clarke and Bellamy watching them carefully as Roan cut loose the bonds. “We’re leaving.” Roan said, as he scooped you up.

Roan sat you down on his bed, you were awake now, dizzy but somewhat conscious. “Roan,” you said again but this time your look was focused on him in a steady admiration. He hated that look, how could you still look at him like this when he had caused all this tension. It was almost unbearable but he held your gaze, steadying you as you swayed with a bout of dizziness. He watched your features grow pale and almost knew it before you said it.

“Bathroom.” Was all you could manage, Roan hauled you up, as you tried to keep the rising bile inside your body and rushed you into the on-suite. You collapsed in front of the toilet with as much grace as the situation would allow. And Roan was just in time to scoop your har out of your face before you wretched violently. You groaned, clearly feeling particularly awful. Whatever they gave was clearly short-acting as you slipped into your state of barely conscious again. He wasn’t about to call Clarke again, you'd just have to ride it out, he knew.

When you had clearly long finished your stomach emptying act, he moved you to the bed again. “You're so caring you know that.” You said with slurred speech and drowsy looks. “You would have made a good nurse. Ooh maybe a doctor, sexy doctor.” You informed him, voice lilting at the compliment, as your head lolled a little. He chuckled, if you had any recollection of the incident you were sure to be mortified and he wouldn’t neglect the opportunity to remind you when you were much less delirious.

“This isn’t my room.” You said, glancing around.

“No.” He confirmed.

You gasped, “Roan we’re not married yet.”

“Unfortunately, We’re not staying.” Roan said. He covered you with the blanket at the bottom of the bed, despite his words and before he was done you were gone.

You fight as much as you heavy limbs allow when they start dragging you down the cold stone hallway, you don’t know where you are but it feels wrong to even to your drugged mind. It’s like treading through water it leaves your muscles aching and you want to top fighting but you know you shouldn’t. A door is flung open and you can’t help but think ‘oh, no’. Every futile attempt at getting away makes you want to quit and you do when they chain you to the floor. Because there’s no use now, wide eyed, your steadying mind finally comprehends your situation. But you can’t believe it, you can’t think what they will do, why they’re cutting off your clothes. even as they start cutting at your pants. Your spirit is renewed  when the cold wraps around your bare legs and you fight against limbs and chains. “No! Stop!” They mock your cries and laugh at your feeble voice thats dry and raspy. But you can’t stop them you realise, you’ve lost all control, and totally at their mercy your throat tightens and you can’t breathe. It feels like you are going to die, as you struggle for air, you’re chest screaming for mercy as your heart races. Surely this is what one feels like before you die. And then it starts, the pain, the real pain and it doesn’t stop.

The feeling doesn’t leave you, even as you sit up with no shackles around your limbs and none of those men around. What grips you is the cool evening air that hits your face. It's so dark, you can barely see in front of you, you feel like you can’t breathe, you sin searching for something and in the dark, your hand slides over something fury and solid which makes you jump back until Roan rolls over. He sits up immediately upon seeing whatever he sees, his fingers wrap around your wrist as he pulls you closer, slipping your fingers into his palm, you glance down and you can feel him as he rubs his thumb over your knuckles, it helps. You’re breathing calms as you try to take deep breaths, eyes connecting with Roan's. “Sorry we didn’t mean to move you while you were out but things got complicated.” He whispers, his understanding of your problem so clear when you only realise it at his words. But now as the adrenalin fades, the effects of the drug hit you like a fright time, nausea with a feeling that makes you feel like a boulder, like you can’t bear to sit upright much longer.

“I feel like I’ve been hit by space station.” You say softly. “What the hell happened at Arkadia?”

“Clarke betrayed us.” He could see your face turn into a bitter expression.

“What's new?”

“But I believe it was because Indra kept Abby and Marcus hostage.” Roan explained.

“What?” You asked alarmed, he could see you had a soft spot for the man that raised you, despite the fact that, to his understanding, he wasn’t the best roll model at the time.

“We believe they are being kept in Polis but we’ll send them back to Skaikru when this over.” Roan promised. “This scheme has set us back with Trikru, we killed a lot of their warriors.”

“And Skaikru?” He knew that painful worry, to fear for the people that reject you, that abandon you, he’s been there once.

“Some got harmed but I think you handed out more injuries yourself, you bit your healer, hard enough to draw blood.” Roan was clearly amused. “And Bellamy was sporting a deep blue eye.”

It felt satisfying but you wanted more, I mean how could they think to betray your kru, even if you didn’t choose Azgeda, they chose you and you hated that Skaikru- that Clarke just couldn’t accept that. After all- you weren’t some possession to be owned and kept safe when it aligned with someone’s interest. “It would be unwise and unlikely that we would align with Skaikru again, but we are going to take back Polis, that's where we are headed. As soon as we have the seat at Polis we will force them to submit to an alliance, unfortunately, the traitors' conditions might not be favourable for them.”

“Don’t you think that would go against Azgeda’s values? Forcing peace.”

“They will see it differently, a King ruling Polis with Jus Gona, the Fayalida and Wanheda at my disposal.”

“Is that all I am a trophy?” You ask genuinely curious but dreading the answer.

Roan sighed, “You know to me it’s not like that but it doesn’t mean I would use whatever means necessary to try and protect you. Being an object to Azgeda ensures a purpose, power, which means you hold value and the eyes of our people.” It was true, but maybe that was what it was supposed to be, even if the world saw you only as the worst part within you, at least to the people that care it was an entirely different story. “We leave early in the morning, lets get some rest, Polis holds a lot of challenges.” Roan said, lying down on the furs he laid out for him, you laid down on the bed made for you, it was close enough that you could reach out and touch Roan if you turned around and somehow his presence made it easy to fall back asleep.

                                           ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“Jus Gona.” You were awake at the words, instantly recognizing Echo standing above you.

“Wow Echo this is such an improvement, are you going to wake me up with breakfast in bed next?” You smiled at her, even half asleep your wit as sharp as ever.

“I can’t be seeing kicking the future queen of Azgeda.” She replied bluntly. “We’re leaving, your horse is saddled and waiting.”

You pulled yourself from the relevant comfort of your furs, rolling the thick skins up as boots stepped up in front of you, you slowly rose dreading facing the person that you knew it was. “Aleksondria,” You acknowledged as curtly as possible, you hadn’t seen her since that night it was declared that you would be marrying Roan.

“Don’t think you can get away with this for much longer, Jus Gona. The wedding wil happen in Polis.” She declared before turning on her heal and striding away at a quick pace.

Your fingers dug into your palms, as you glanced at Roan mounting his horse, you were lucky in one sense- you couldn’t deny it. Roan was a good friend and maybe you even liked him more than you do most, it was the best-case scenario for the circumstance but despite this, you were dreading it.

You quickly saddled your horse, making sure the girth was tight enough before you mounted up.

                                            ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Polis was beautiful when the setting sun fell on the large tower, it glowed against the painted background but it was also very desolate and that’s what made the setting sun so strange. Everyone was tense and waiting for the ambush which they knew would soon come, since there was no way, Polis had been completely abandoned. How many people would be coming at you was the whole other problem.

You we’re in the mix a separate, secure party with Echo on the lead that needed to find a way into the tower, you were glad to be useful at last after Roan and his men having to haul your ass on the back of a wagon for half the journey here due to Skaikru and there decisions. Your objective was to locate, protect and take any important enemy persons into custody for later negotiations. And you knew who you were going to find, your spite overpowered your dread of looking Abby and Marcus in the eyes as they realized what had happened. Sure Indra had really forced Skaikru’s hand into acting against Azgeda, but what the fuck had Clarke thought she could do with you? You bristled at the thought, following Echo down into the dark passages of the holding cells.

You’re eyes adjusted to the low light conditions the further you made your wat down the steps and soon you were glancing in every cell, searching faces of criminals to find who exactly you were looking for.

When the moment finally arrived it was much different from how you picture it. Instead of surprise, it was a different sort of look that reflected on their faces. “(Y/n) please let us speak to Roan if we can just-“ Marcus started.

“No.” Echo snapped coldly. “Confine them to a room in the palace, place four guards on them, they are not to leave their quarters.” She ordered the guards who stepped forward to unlock the cell and pull out the two leaders of Skaikru, you were more stunned than you thought you would be. They looked ragged, Indra really hadn’t been their friend this time. At the chance, Abby lunged out the guard's grips and took up your hands, in her own. Still frozen you could barely react but stare at her.

“(Y/n) please-“ Echo was quick to place a sword at Abby’s neck that had her relishing the hold on your hands to step back and away from the pressure of the sword pressed against her jugular, her eyes wide with fear. You opened your mouth to convey an order-

“Calm down.” Echo stated at you, immediately angered by her words. These were the people you thought of as-

“Take them.” Echo removed the threatening weapon as the guards left with them.

“Stop feeling.” Echo said when they were gone.

“Echo-“

She wrapped a skilled arm around your chest smashed you into the wall behind her, the blow was hard but the knee she thrust into your stomach was worse. You collapsed to the ground a wheezing, gasping, pained mess. You couldn’t even form a coherent thought as you fought for oxygen.

“That is the only way, they can hurt you.” With that Echo left you in the hands of your escort as she continued to the exit.

A guard helped you stood when you were ready to stretch upright.

“Are you alright, Jus Gona?” You nodded still unable to form any words.

Sure Echo was right, but fuck would you get her back for the painful lesson.

Next Chapter

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[florafey]

The Tipping Point - Snippet 3

This is just 4,336 words of me extrapolating on my characters and their personalities and a little more of the noble, upper-class culture they live in. We get full names, as well. 

For clarity, this scene is set five years before the majority of the story takes place, so the main characters are quite a bit younger in this scene than they “actually” are. In this scene they are teenagers; they are anywhere from 19 to 25 in the “present time”. Let me know what you think! Enjoy!

Five Years Ago : 206 Annum Effugium (A.E)

The sun was shining, therefore the children were excited. 

“Don’t run down the stairs, Wynona. You will trip over your dress and find out how hard that marble is.” Duchess Gallio prided herself on being the epitome of a perfect, well-bred lady of status, and therefore did not raise her voice at her young daughter. Winnie, barely six, did not yet care about being a lady and did not heed her mother. She knew a stronger scolding wouldn’t come, anyways. 

Thea, arm in arm with Iona, was just as happy as Winnie about the weather, though Thea knew better than to run down the palace staircase without first lifting the hem of her dress. She watched with amusement as Winnie’s skirts caught around her ankles and made the girl stumble and slow down. 

It was mid-April and the cold front had just broken. It had been a hard winter. Nearly seven months of snow, frost, blistering wind, and chilly drafts that occasionally seeped through even the palace walls. Thea hated the cold and everything that came with it. She preferred the spring dresses with their loose skirts that didn’t weigh nearly as much as she herself did, she preferred the street festivals she was allowed to attend and even those she wasn’t, and she much preferred day-long picnics spent outside in the sun. While Duke Kaiso spun the most magnificent tales in front of the fire, Thea would still take grass stained knees and bouts of wrestling that made her mother shriek. 

Winnie amazedly reached the bottom of the long staircase without knocking her teeth out. When she spotted Thea, she grinned and didn’t slow her run into the other girl’s arms. Iona cooed at Winnie as Thea propped her on her hip and made her way out into the palace’s sprawling garden. The sun was out and so were the birds, the butterflies, the bugs, and the troublemakers. 

“Now, Winnie, if you eat lemon cakes today, take care not to get any on that gorgeous dress of yours,” Thea said. She knew Winnie would attack the plate of lemon cakes the moment she saw them without any regard for her words, but she said it nonetheless. 

“Momma says I won’t be allowed to eat lemon cakes today.” Winnie sounded distressed. Her little hands were tangled in Thea’s curls. Thea turned a sympathetic look on Winnie and said, “Well, then you’ll just have to spend the whole afternoon with me. How awful.”

Winnie squealed and clapped her hands, simultaneously tugging Thea’s hair. Iona laughed and steered them over to where the rest of the noble families were sitting. 

It was a large picnic. Nearly every member of the seven noble families were there. The first picnic of the year was always the biggest, symbolizing unity between the houses and a celebration of the breaking of winter. 

Thea’s parents, Duke and Duchess Fontaine were seated next to their closest friends and Iona’s parents, Duke and Duchess Tithonius. Iona���s older brother, Cicero, was nowhere to be seen. Judging from how the Duke Kaiso’s only son, Adonias, was also missing, Thea assumed the two were off somewhere beating teeth out of each other. They knew by now to take their arguments far from everyone else. The Tithonius’ cousins, the Anatolious family, sat under a nearby tree with their only daughter, Valerie. Valerie was speaking to Winnie’s older brother, Matthias Gallio, and was giving him a grin almost as sharp as her eyes. Twins Ruth and Wren Dexion were engaged in a playful game with each other and seemed to be trying to convince a young teenage boy to join them. Freiderich Augustus Quintilla was fourteen but looked twelve. He was only a head or two taller than Ruth, who was currently wrapped around his leg, cackling. Freiderich was clutching a book and looked for all the world like he might pass out. His pale skin stood out against his red-blond curls that only added to his youthfulness. 

From besides Thea, Iona gave a shuttered sigh. 

“Where is my brother?” She grumbled. “Father is going to tan him for not being here.”

Thea set down a squirming Winnie, who ran off to join Ruth and Wren in attacking Freiderich. “I’m sure Cicero had every intention of coming, Iona. Adonias probably caught him in the hall and started running that mouth of his.”

Iona couldn’t stop the smile that flickered on her mouth. “For having grown up together, you would think they would have learned how to get along,” she mused, taking a seat on the warm grass. Thea sat and stretched her legs out. 

“I don’t pretend to understand them. Let’s talk about something else.”

“Yes, please. I can’t stand the two of them. Always at each other’s throats. When was the last time you were in town?”

“Not since I went with you last week. Why?”

“Oh, Madame Ahr-Yusa put out the most gorgeous display of dresses a few days ago in time for the new season. They’re to die for, you’re going to melt when you see them!”

The two girls fell into an easy stream of conversation over the next hour concerning the latest fashions arriving in the capitol with the spring season. After Madame Ahr-Yusa’s gowns were discussed it was the hats from Madame Ingrid and then the daggers from Master Quell’s shop, famous for their ability to never dull. Being trained to fight was a lesson the noble families of the Cerulean Isles did not fail to teach their children, for the palace could often be the most dangerous place to live. But while the young boys learned to fight with broadswords and fists, the young ladies were taught to take lives whilst in corsets and heeled shoes. 

Thea, despite her mother’s wishes, had ensured her education was as well-rounded as she could. Upon hearing her wishes to learn how to swordfight, Cicero had handed Thea his broadsword, which she had quickly found to be much too heavy. So she had commissioned a sword to be made to fit her. It was thinner, lighter, and laid in her hand perfectly. It had taken her almost a full month to get even the most basic movements mastered whilst in a gown, but she was making steady progress. She subsequently felt as though she had provided Cicero with four weeks’ entertainment as he watched her struggle with the balance between her dress and sword. If she hadn’t thought his laughter had cracked a few of his ribs, she probably would have attempted to do it herself. 

The girls ate with Valerie and discussed the upcoming festival, the first of the season. Valerie often took advantage of festivals to buy as many unique knives as she could, but Thea found herself drawn more to the entertainment and the music. Thea had seen Valerie’s collection of sharp rings, and was surprised to know that Matthias Gallio was still trying to court her. Val was currently wearing one of her weapons, a thin, strong piece of metal that glinted at her knuckle and exposed a razor-sharp blade when her finger curled  in. 

But for all her danger, Valerie Clementine Anatolious knew how to be a perfect lady. She could dance for hours in a tightly-laced corset and never lose her breath. She could balance a stack of books on her head while walking down the stairs. She could make her voice heard without raising it, and she could make Thea double over in laughter with the slightest quip. Thea liked her very much. 

In the middle of the girls’ conversation about the festival in two weeks, Friederich Quintilla managed to finally slip away from Winnie and the Dexion twins and loped over in time to hear a few words.

“The Vernal Festival? The weather should be good, it seems. Unless we get an unexpected cold front in which case we may have some rain, but…” He was suddenly aware of all three girls staring at him and trailed off self-consciously, “...but it’s highly unlikely…” he swept his red-blond curls off his forehead but they needed a trim and fell back into his eyes. Friederich was three years younger than Thea and Iona, and four years younger than Valerie. Thea didn’t know him all that well; he took all his lessons with the prince and His Majesty’s private tutor. Duchess Quintilla, his mother, was a woman to rival Duchess Gallio. Prim, proper, fragile. Spoiled, overprotective, overbearing. Thea was often distracted whenever Duchess Quintilla was in the same room as her, the diamonds the Duchess wore were cut so sharply that they sparkled even at night. 

To ease Friederich’s embarrassment, Thea inquired, “What book are you reading, Friederich? Let me see.” 

The boy handed it over and sat in the grass next to her. Thea was delighted to see it was written by a man named Isaac Von Hue. A few of his novels sat in her own room. 

“You read Von Hue as well?” She asked. “I only just finished The Paper Lantern. How did you come across him?”

“The prince, actually.” Where anyone else Friederich’s age might have boasted this, Friederich almost lowered his voice to draw less attention to the fact that he was so close with the young heir. “His Grace learned to read using books by Von Hue and Ryner and Pav...Pavlish…”

“Pavilishchev,” Thea supplied. 

“Yes, thank you. Anyways, he suggested this one to me quite a while ago and I’m embarrassed to say that I never read it sooner only because it didn’t seem very intriguing.”

Thea had to laugh. “Just because he is the prince doesn’t mean you have to agree with his literary tastes.”

“Still, I was hesitant. I don’t fancy adventure novels or daring rescues.”

“Well, has Von Hue changed your mind? You’re nearly done with this book so it seems he might have.”

Friederich thought about it, then shrugged. “Perhaps. I’m not quite sure. What book of his did you say you had just finished? Maybe I’ll try that one next.” “The Paper Lantern,” Thea smiled. “It’s my favorite of his so far. There’s a lot to be said for the battling of wills between the ruling patriarchy and the strong minds of the women underneath it. When you’ve read it, I would love to discuss it with you.”

Val, only hearing Thea’s last sentence, leaned over Thea’s lap and said, “Don’t take her up on that, she’ll talk a whole day and night away.”

Thea made an indignant noise and shoved Val away from her. Val tugged on Thea’s hair with a sharp smile and went back to her conversation with Iona. 

“I’m pleasantly surprised to find you read as much as I do,” Friederich said. “I’ll come to you when-”

They were interrupted a second time when two figures strode leisurely into the garden. One had short, fair hair, and a set of bright green eyes. He was tall and broad chested and currently spinning a wooden sparring staff in his left hand. A very familiar smirk was twisting his mouth into something arrogant and borderline rude. Adonias Montague Kaiso. Twenty years old; three years older than Thea and the eldest of all the noble children. Thea’s interactions with Adonias were limited to pleasant greetings in passing or during lessons, and the few times he picked arguments with her to either see how sharp her claws were or for an excuse to take Cicero to the ground again. Adonias had soon learned, however, that picking fights with Thea weren’t worth it; she always knew what he was doing and very rarely rose to the bait. 

The young man behind Adonias was only two years his junior. He contrasted Adonias astoundingly, in both looks and behavior. This man’s hair was a red-brown color and hung in loose waves to his shoulders. Half of it was tied back with a strap of leather. His eyes were amber and his brows dark, his skin dark enough to show that at least one of his parents was not native to the Isles. He was slightly taller than Adonias and just as broad, but strode into the garden with his hands slipped casually inside his pockets. Cicero Caspian Tithonius. The second eldest of all the noble children and the instigator of half of all the fights between him and the eldest. 

Iona seemed relieved to see her brother finally show up. Thea was relieved to see that neither man seemed to have been fighting the other as of late. It was a rare occasion that Cicero and Adonias had a civil conversation, but it did occasionally happen. Perhaps it was due to the formal clothing they currently wore. 

Adonias propped his sparring staff onto his shoulder to bow to his mother and the Duchess Quintilla. He accepted the food they offered and Thea heard him smoothly apologize for his tardiness. Adonias was almost as adept as Valerie in walking the line between being an outright aggressor and a noble. 

Thea heard Cicero acknowledge his father with a perfunctory, “Sir,” before moving to kiss his mother’s cheek and sit besides her. Duchess Tithonius was a stunning woman with bright eyes and dark skin. She had left Tasnia when she had met and married the Duke, and bore his children only months after their marriage. She was very nearly a second mother to Thea. Her accent was much thicker than either Cicero’s or Iona’s and she often sang in her native language, her voice melodic and winding and something Thea knew to be unique to her country’s people. 

Winnie chose this time to get bored with the Dexion twins. “Thea! Come find rocks with me!” Her once-white gown was already grass stained around the hem. Thea didn’t know what Duchess Gallio had expected. 

Thea held up Friederich’s book to show Winnie she was currently occupied. Winnie pouted and called, “But you promised!”

Thea had not, but she returned Friederich his book and went to join Winnie in the warm grass. 

“Where is your puppy, Thea? Can she come play?” Winnie picked up a handful of rocks, deemed them unworthy, and threw them down again. 

“Clover? She’s probably sleeping on my bed right now. There’s a lovely patch of sun that lands right on my pillow around noon.”

Winnie giggled. “She’s sleeping? But it’s not morning anymore.”

“Oh, she’s a lazy thing. Maybe after the picnic you can come with me to wake her up.” 

Thea allowed Winnie to hand her the rocks she wanted to keep, knowing the girl would forget all about them the moment her mother called her over to eat. But it was Matthias who fetched his sister, not the Duchess. 

“Come along, Winnie. Don’t you want lunch?” Matthias held his hand out towards his sister and she grabbed his fingers. Matthias Gallio was only a few months older than Thea and she was under the impression that he was the most proper young noble out of all of them. He was well trained how to fight but not to the indecent extent that Cicero or Adonias had been. He was just as likely to be dancing or reading or making sure his unruly little sister didn’t knock over anything valuable. Which, in the palace, was nearly everything you could touch. 

Thea returned to Iona and Valerie to find they had saved her a few bites of lunch. 

“I was thinking we could walk down to the river,” Iona said, looking that direction and shielding her eyes from the sun. “It isn’t too warm for a walk.”

Thea hummed in agreement around a bite of lemon cake. She understood why Winnie liked them so much. “I’ll go with you. Will you come, Valerie?”

“Oh, perhaps.” Val adjusted her silver skirts. “I doubt my mother would be pleased if I decided to steal Adonias’ sparring staff and go a few rounds with him.”

“I’d give anything to see that,” Thea said honestly. “My coin would be on you, too. Speaking of Adonias, we should ask the boys to come.”

“Let’s not,” Iona protested. “They’ll simply bicker the whole time.” “They aren’t that bad. And besides, it’ll be more fun with them.”

“We aren’t fun enough for you, Thea?” Valerie feigned hurt. 

Thea rolled her eyes and stood up, brushing invisible crumbs from her bodice. “I won’t answer that.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to incriminate myself.” She left the girls and made her way across the lawn to where Cicero was engaged in light conversation with his mother. The Countess’ eyes lit up when she saw Thea. 

“Theadora Dior, precious girl, come to me!” The Countess opened her arms and Thea couldn’t help but smile and run to her. The Countess was sitting on a low stone bench so Thea knelt in the grass and embraced the Countess. She breathed in the woman’s scent of sunshine and perfume, and allowed the Countess to kiss her hair. 

The Countess Tithonius was the only woman apart from Thea’s own mother that sometimes referred to Thea using her middle name as well. But Countess Fontaine only used it when Thea was in trouble; Countess Tithonius called her with melody and happiness. 

“Good afternoon, my lady. I apologize for not greeting you sooner.”

The Countess tsked. “None of that, girl. I need no special respect.”

Thea made a face. “Of course you do.”

From besides them, Cicero laughed softly. “You flatter each other.” He shook his head, smiling. 

Thea ignored him for the time being. The Countess did as well. She ran a bronze hand through Thea’s hair and said, “What are you three troublemakers scheming up over there? I can tell you have something in mind. This warm weather is enough to bring the most out of anyone.”

“Troublemakers?” Thea smiled. She folded her feet more comfortably under her and rested her arms on the Duchess’ knees. 

“My lady, I cause no trouble. You mistake me for your son.”

Cicero had been watching Thea and his mother’s interaction with half-lidded interest until Thea mentioned him. She could practically feel him staring at her.

“Careful,” he warned mildly.

The Duchess tsked again, waving a hand. “As I say. Troublemaker Fontaine, that is your name.”

Laughter bubbled out of Thea and soon the Countess was laughing with her. Her laughter, Thea thought, was one of the most beautiful sounds she had ever heard. 

“We are only going to walk to the river. It won’t take us long. We should be back within the hour.”

“Don’t fall in.”

“No, Countess.” The two were still smiling. 

“You came all the way over here to bid me farewell before leaving for only an hour?” The Countess knew Thea had not.

“I was going to ask your son if he would like to come with us, but I’m sure he would rather stay here with you.”

“I would,” was Cicero’s instant reply. He was spinning a needle-blade between his fingers, and shot Thea a honed smile when she looked at him. 

The Duchess flicked her hair back behind her shoulders and regarded her son with a mix of disdain and disappointment. 

“Son from my womb? Sometimes I wonder. Run along. I know it pains you to sit still for too long.”

Cicero smiled genuinely and the needle-blade vanished with a twitch of his fingers. 

“As you wish, my lady.” He stood, kissed his mother on the head, and held out his hand to help Thea stand. Thea curtseyed to the Countess, who pressed a hand to her heart, and turned away with Cicero.

“It’s a wonder I can make myself leave your mother’s presence,” Thea mused quietly. “She’s a magical woman.”

Cicero made a noise of agreement. He placed her hand on his arm and she took it as a lady would whilst walking with a gentleman. Val and Iona had convinced Adonias to come along, but Matthias would stay with his younger sister and the young twins. Thea and Cicero were a few paces ahead of the other three but Adonias’ voice still rang out clearly from behind them.

“Is that why you two don’t get along?” Thea asked. “He’s loud and you’re so broody.”

“I don’t brood, Thea. And no. Adonias is only loud because he’s deaf in one ear.”

“Firstly, you do brood. And second, how do you know that? Which ear?”

Cicero raised a brow at her.

“See, that’s a brood,” Thea said. “I win. One point for Theadora.”

“You’re a child. And I know Adonias is deaf because he can’t hear shit if you talk on his left side. I asked him about it a few months ago and he seemed surprised I had figured it out. Nobody else has, apparently.”

Thea took in this information with interest. Then she shrugged and turned to more important matters.

“Are you planning on going to the Vernal festival in a few weeks?”

“I’ll decide that the morning of.”

“Ugh, how boring. How will you know what to wear?”

Cicero knew a joke when he heard one but the look of absolute incredulity that he gave Thea was enough to send Thea into a gale of laughter. 

“You’re in a good mood.” He observed dryly. The river was almost in sight; they were picking their way over small stones that lead to the bank. 

“How could I not be, it’s spring. Sometimes I think each winter becomes harder and harder to bear. I could just die from boredom and the awful cold.”

“Find someone to keep you warm.” Cicero’s smile was razor-sharp and simmered with bait. Thea felt her face heat, but she stuck her tongue out and said, “Don’t be lewd.”

“Then don’t ask for it.”

“I did not.” “Like a child asking to be fed.” Thea’s mouth dropped. “I- What does that mean?”

But they had reached the river and Cicero only laughed. Val and Iona had caught up with them, Adonias still spinning his sparring staff. The girls found a part of the river shallow enough to wade in if they held their dresses up but it was only a matter of time before Valerie splashed Iona, soaking her bodice, and Iona retaliated in kind. Thea’s dress was brand new and she didn’t want to spoil a wonderful day by having an argument with her mother, so she fled from the battle well before she could be dragged into it. She was content to place herself on a warm rock next to the boys and yell advice from the sidelines. 

Adonias came to sit next to Thea. His presence was welcome until he looked at the two girls playing in the water, sighed heavily, and said, “That’s hot.”

“You’re a fucking pig, Adonias.”

Cicero let out a startled laugh. “Language, little Fontaine.”

“I’m serious. If there was a rock nearby big enough to kill you with, I would consider it. This is why Iona stopped sleeping with you.”

Cicero dropped the stone he had been sharpening his knife with. “Excuse me?”

Adonias sent Thea a poisonous glare. She simpered back, knowing what she had done. “Oh! I’m terribly sorry. You seem to have some explaining to do. A hasty mouth makes mighty trouble, isn’t that right, Adonias?”

Adonias was about to respond when Cicero seized his collar and hauled him to his feet. His blade winked in his hand. Adonias did not take well to being manhandled and was quick to shove Cicero’s hand off his neck. But Adonias was unarmed and the accused violator of a sister’s propriety. Thea stood, suddenly seeing how bad this could get. 

Val and Iona turned at the disruption, and Iona was the first to call out. “Cicero! Adonias!” This was not Iona’s first or fiftieth time breaking the two apart; she knew how to get their attention with only her voice. She climbed out of the water and onto the riverbank, dripping from her hem but still somehow managing to look regal. 

“None of that. I mean it. If you want to fight, you will go someplace else and not ruin the mood of this afternoon.” Her words were final. 

Val broke the tension when she followed Iona onto the back, wringing out her short hair. “I’ll fight you, Adonias. If you promise to cry when I beat you.”

Thea scoffed out a laugh and was rewarded with Val’s wink. Cicero, thankfully, miraculously, dropped the subject but shoved Adonias hard enough to send him rocking back on his heels. Iona raised an eyebrow but kept silent. 

Cicero came to sit next to Thea, who had taken up her perch on the sunny rock and was smoothing her skirts out and trying to look innocent. He used the pommel of his knife to turn her face to him and said, “What was that about a hasty mouth making trouble?”

Thea removed the knife from his hand and hid it in the folds of her skirt. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Lies sound repulsive coming from your mouth.”

Thea bit back a rather inappropriate quip that would have been more suited to Valerie’s tastes. 

Adonias had fallen into smooth chatter with Val and Iona as the girls tried to figure out how to dry their hair and dresses as quickly as possible. Thea glanced at them and was amused to see Valerie using her skirt to polish her bladed ring. When she looked back at Cicero, he was leaning back on his hands, tilting his face up to the sun, closing his eyes. His hair was glinting a deep red in the sunlight and beginning to curl with the rising humidity. The tension had gone from his face and left in its wake a Cicero that Thea often never saw. His mouth was parted slightly, his breathing steady as he soaked up the warmth. But Thea’s heart had begun to pound so she forced herself to look away before she could notice anything else.

[torasteals]

Vanished

(1401 words)

Warning: Contains talk of physical abuse

“This was all we found of her,” Pepper said as he gently placed Baya’s daggers in Tora’s open hands. “You made em, so… figured you should have em.”

It was the first Pepper had spoken to Tora since they’d met, but Tora was too distracted to understand the significance of that. He stared, wide-eyed at the set of silver daggers clasped under his shaking fingers. The cold metal jangled in his palms as he counted them out: six total. There used to be seven. He’d know, he’d crafted each one, sculpted every intricate rose found on their hilts. They weren’t supposed to be his though, they were a gift. Yet here they were: dirtied, bloodied, and cradled awkwardly in his unfit hands. He felt tears threatening to burst.

Pepper, seeing the look on Tora’s face, gave him a nervous nod before hastily retreating back to the doorway he’d entered. He’d come in with two others: Claws and Onora, who stood as two solemn lumbering giants near the doorway to Claws’ workshop. They’d lost their headquarters, Baya’s home, to The Mute when she turned on the guild. Out of seemingly nowhere she’d emerged with a horde of undead rats and went right after Baya. The guild tried to fight her back, but… things went wrong? Tora could barely remember, he’d been fighting starvation and struggling to stay awake at the time. He’d just managed to escape the basement before it happened, and was too weak to do much beyond slowly nurse a loaf of bread. They’d had to carry him out when the guild fled - had it been Onora who carried him? Claws?

What little he did remember were the unnatural shrieks of those awful rats, the sounds of swords and pistols, heavy footsteps, the pealing laughter of Baya who had to be dragged away when they ran. He could hear The Mute’s words as they fled.

“You’re just another Court by a different name.”

They lost Zed in the fight.

Now they were here, using Claws’ workshop as a temporary headquarters -a large hollowed tree stump filled to the brim with odd tools and bits of metal. Apparently he’d been an engineer before the guild, and happened to still have the space. Baya always complained about it though -she hated the smell and the clutter. She wanted to fight to get back the headquarters, but no one would let her.

So they stayed here, trying to go about business as usual, but having to deal with constant attacks from The Mute on every raid they did. She killed Ebril, and made it very clear she was going to kill more of them. Then Baya and Darach went missing. It couldn’t have been The Mute but…

The rest of the guild rushed the trio at the doorway, bombarding them with questions.

“Is she-?”

“Dunno. S’all we found.”

“Did The Mute get ‘er?!”

“S’all we found.”

“And Darach? Didja find Darach?”

Tora’s stomach made an ugly twist at the name. It was one thing for Baya to vanish - she came and went as she pleased, but for her and Darach to disappear? For a week? It was suspicious to say the least, but to Tora it was much worse than that. He knew things the rest of the guild didn’t, horrible things Baya entrusted to him and no one else. The Mute wasn’t strong enough to harm Baya, there was no way, but Darach? He knew how dangerous Darach was, how possessive and cruel he could be. Baya told him everything. If they’d both disappeared, she was in danger. She might not even… Tora gripped the daggers in his hands till sap trickled from his fingers. He was too busy trying to breathe to notice the pain.

“THAT’S! ALL! WE! FOUND!!” Claws slammed his fist on the door to emphasize each word, the studded gauntlet he wore protesting with each strike. “WHAT DO YOU WANT?! WE LOOKED FOR THREE DAYS! THEY’RE GONE!”

The room fell silent as Claws shook from head to toe with raged frustration. Pepper, a mere twig next to the muscular husks of Claws and Onora, shrunk behind Onora till her bushy hair nearly swallowed him. She sighed and gave him a pitiful look.

“Ya gave him the knives, ya?”

Pepper swallowed and scratched nervously at the scars over his missing right eye, “Y-yeah.”

“Then that’s it then.”

“Wha-? That’s it?! C’mon now!” An incredulous voice boomed from the small gathering, and a large portly plant, with impossibly greasy vines for hair, made his way to the front. He shoved a few people aside to get there. “We don’t get nuthin’ more than that?! This is BAYA we’re talkin’ bout! She don’t jus’ make to disappear!”

Claws turned on the plant with a glare, “I already told you, Birr! THAT’S ALL WE FOUND!”

“So ya jus’ gave up?!”

The two began bickering while Onora sighed and played absentmindedly with her hair. The rest of the guild shrunk back, letting the two argue for what felt like ages. And Tora?

“Well, did YOU want his shitty knives?” Claws snarled.

“No one wants his stupid fuckin’ knives!” Birr spat back. “We want answers, ya fuck!”

“Where is he anyway?” Onora offered casually.

They stopped and looked back in unison to Tora’s usual corner near the back of the room.

Tora was gone.

He’d left shortly after Claws first started shouting, climbing his way out the back window with whatever he could grab unnoticed on his way out. A few pocketed coins from Needles and Sheridan, a vial of poison off Blaine, a loaf of bread off one of the worktables and he was gone. He was done mourning, or rather he didn’t have time to. Claws’ angry cries had snapped Tora back to reality, and reality didn’t look good. Baya didn’t go anywhere without her daggers. If there was any clearer a sign she wasn’t coming back, it was the fact that they now stood in Tora’s hands instead of hers. She wasn’t coming back, and that meant Tora had to leave. Now.

He made his way back to his pod home back on the Weeping Isle, hoping it’d be awhile before his guild realized he was gone. Not that he could stay there long, he had to pack what he could run with and go.

While he scrambled about the pod, shovelling clothes and trinkets into a leather bag, it struck him for a moment just what he was doing and he paused. It was a long ugly pause as he finally admitted something he’d known for awhile but wouldn’t let himself think.

I don’t trust my guild.

And he didn’t, he really didn’t. Without Baya around he didn’t even feel safe around most of them. Why would he? Many were pretty open about their scorn towards him, snarling at him when Baya didn’t see, and threatening him when she couldn’t hear. He knew full well the things they wanted to do to him, saw the hungry looks in their eyes when he passed by. He’d skipped the gruesome rites of passage most had to do to join the guild by Baya’s graces, and many resented him for it. They resented him more for not talking even though he… he couldn’t.

If he was honest with himself, he’d known for awhile how ready they were to hurt him, and Baya’s absence made that all the clearer. She’d been missing only a week but it was enough. At first they’d kept their distance, wary of what Baya would do if they laid a finger on him. As the days dragged on however, he found them searching for him, making grabs and sneers when they found him. Birr especially got more and more brazen, to the point where he’d once pinned Tora to a wall, spouting off a long list of horrid things he wanted to do to him. If Pepper hadn’t interrupted him… Tora shuddered, and closed up his bag.

If he stayed they’d torture him in every way they could think of.

He wasn’t going to let them.

Tora exited out the back of the pod, leaving the indoor flowers blooming bright to make it seem like he was still home. It would be a short distraction, but hopefully enough. He dusted off his coat, gave a quick glance at his surroundings, then vanished into the night with barely a sound.

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NEW READERS || PATREON

[thestarwrites]

City of God part II (Finan x OC)

Fic Summary: Finan the Agile meets a Celt-Saxon woman, and for once he can’t think of anything else. Now that the two are increasingly interested, will Finan finally ask her to supper?

Part Two

Rating: PG-13

Please don’t plagiarize! And I s2g if I have to post this part for a fourth time I’m gonna cry.

Also I wanted to share this with some other Finan fans I’ve noticed!

@nxrdist @joyofbebbanburg @medievalfangirl @bookworm925 @buckysskye @jcalpha1

word count: 2,995

Most all of Finans interactions with Urlworth’s daughter for a few weeks were innocuous glances, small conversations, he intended to ask her to supper, however every time he couldn’t find the words. They were only brief acquaintances, until one very early spring day while she was in the courtyard of her father’s forge, sharpening her sword.

The Irishman grinned, watching the girl for a while, she knew what she was doing. It was as Thyra had been told, she knew and practiced sword-art. To a West Saxon like her father, or the King, or any other man for that manner, this would be strange. Why would a young girl be practicing with a sword instead of marrying and being a house wife. But Finan understood. The blood of the Celts. Irish women were strong, independent, had a knowledge of medicine and were often strange.

Once he had watched her fondly for a good while, he finally spoke, his tone low and warm as the early spring sun, “D’ya know how ta use dat t’ing, my Angel? Or are ye jus’ strokin’ it fer want of a man?”

Her eyes darted upward, seeing the dark Irishman. The man she fancied, and whom Thyra said was mad for her, though she didn’t believe her. Standing, holding the sword up, she smirked, “Care to find out, Irishman?” Finan grinned, drawing his own sword, “Ye’ve always been a lass with spirit, I like tha’.” Her cheeks flushed as she took a sword-fighting stance, their blades clanging against one another in sparing readiness, “Do not underestimate me.” “Nor should you, me.” He grinned wider, “And wha’ do I get for winnin’ this little duel, my Lady?” “And how do you know you’ll win?” He just grinned. “What would you like?” Finan couldn’t stand the playful banter, “How ‘bout a kiss?” He threatened to burst into flame right there from how he felt, how he longed for this woman before him, this beautiful wild thing. He had a mission, finally ask her to supper. Then, ask her for the chance to court her— “Oi! What’s going on out here!” Urlworth called out as he came lumbering from his forge, “Kelly— who is this? What is the meaning of this?” She sighed and smiled, setting her sword to the ground with a look of exasperation, “This is Lord Uhtred’s man, a friend of mine, Finan the Agile. We were just messing about, papa.” “A fierce and brave young lass ye have here, Lord Urlworth! Tis true- I am Finan.” He bowed low, “And I have come fer those swords tha my Lord Uhtred asked the King for.” “Of course.” He grunted and went back into the forge to retrieve them. Finan grinned and chuckled, “Yer brave girl, I’ll give ye that. Yer stance needs some work, and ye need more trainin’ holdin’ up yer blade.” He cleared his throat, “And on top a’ tha’ yer all covered in soot, I can barely see if yer beauty still remains.” Gasping she huffed and went to move toward him with her sword, swinging it clumsily- he laughed and jumped back- and suddenly Urlworth was in view again, “Here you are, Finan. Didn’t expect to have someone collect these til next week, but they’re done all the same. Give my regards to Lord Uhtred and his new wife Lady Gisela.” He smiled. “Yes, Lord. I surely will.” “Papa?” He turned his head at the sound of his daughter’s voice, “May I accompany Finan to Lord Uhtred’s town estate? I have been meaning to visit Abbess Hild. I have heard she is with him.” He shrugged, “Sure, I don’t see why not— just try and stay out of trouble, hear?” “Yes Papa.” She smiled and turned to Finan, “Shall we go?” Finan smirked, “Yes, Lady.” Another chance. “I will be back probably after dark, papa.” He nodded again, “Aye, make sure ye don’t walk back alone.” “Oh she won’t, sir. I will make sure personally tha she gets home safe an sound.” The man smiled a bit and nodded, “Thank you, Finan.” He turned and headed back to the forge, “Have fun, child!” Kelly turned to set her sword in its scabbard, setting it in the shed. “Come on, girl.” Finan called with a grin. As the two walked down the road, Finan’s horse was carrying the load of parcels, they walked in silence for a while before the Irishman spoke again with a grin, “Why pick now ta visit Hild?” “I just wish to see my friend. And I want to know what possessed you suddenly to ask me such a disgusting question.” She smirked. He smirked in return, “T’wasn’t t’at disgustin’ — I mean, I was right wasn’ I? Yer in want of a man?” He bounced his eyebrows. Scoffing she rolled her eyes, “I am in want of nothing, Irishman.” “Oh sure. Cooped up in tha’ King’s own palace all the time, sayin’ prayers, readin’ books, I heard tale of a wild Celtic lass, who rode horses fast as tha’ wind- sword at her side, boltin’ through tha’ countryside, hair full of grass, layin’ around daydreamin and pickin’ flowers… Stop me at any time girl.” He smirked. Kelly had stopped in the street, mouth agape, and Finan kept walking, “Yer fallin’ behind, lass!” Jogging, holding her dress up, she fell back into step, “How do you—“ “Tyra has told Uhtred all about her new best friend.” He shrugged, “Many a man in Coccham would love ta bed a lady like tha’. How old are ye anyhow?” Her cheeks were red, “I’m twenty.” She huffed, “And I suppose Lord Uhtred delights in spreading his sister’s business around?” “When he’s go’ a score a’ women-hungry men… and he finds a wild, high spirited woman out in his travels? A woman who could keep up with his men? Yeah. And I’m twenty five.” He smiled, “I like an accomplished girl.” “Keep dreaming.” She huffed, crossing her arms as she walked with him. He stopped, stooping low to her ear, “I’ll keep dreamin’ every night of your soft skin on mine… just as you dream of freedom, an’ wind in yer hair, and a man inside ye.” Pulling back, there was a big smirk on his face. She slapped him, cheeks bright red, storming ahead of him down the street toward Uhtred’s home. She was mostly embarrassed because he was right. And then man she dreamt of was whispering in her ear. “What spirit.” He grinned dazed, touching his cheek, looking up at the sky, he touched his cross, “Let her fall fer me, Lord.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hild stroked Kelly’s hair and laughed, “What did he say to you! You all fired up!” She tried to soothe the Celtic-Saxon as best she could. She had walked into the home minutes before Finan who had to stable his horse, “Its Finan, he’s harmless. Come on now.” She looked up at the Abbess, with big frightened blue eyes, “He stooped to whisper in my ear,” Looking away she covered her face, “He said he would dream of my soft skin against his.” Hild raised her brows, “What else did he say?!” “He said… that I dream of freedom, and wind in my hair—“ Kelly took a deep breath, “And a man inside of me.” “He said what!” She hissed. Shaking her head she looked up, “I’ve never felt this way.” The Abbess raised her eyebrows, “Oh my. This IS serious.” “It was so WILDLY inappropriate but…” “For the record,” Hild interrupted, “Finan is one of the most honorable men I have ever known. He has seen horrible things, experienced four years of torture at the oar— and more that he won’t tell. He uses his humor as a shield, I think, but he is a wonderful, Godly man.” “Don’t talk about him as if he is to be my husband!” Kelly huffed. Hild smirked, “I think you’ve already thought of being his wife.” “He said lewd things!” “He has been pressing Uhtred and I for details about you night and day. He has been fawning over you! He was SUPPOSED to ask you to dinner tonight, actually- but I assume, he did not.” The girl blinked, “He WHAT!” All Hild could do was laugh, “He— He’s been—“ She covered her face once more, “He doesn’t even know me!” “And you don’t know him- but I have seen the glances across halls and across streets for months.” The Abbess nodded, “So what happened next?” “I slapped the Irishman.” She bit her lip. Hild laughed hard, holding out her hand and standing, “Come. We must inform Uhtred of this at once! Kelly the Celt! Slapping Finan the Agile! Warrior of Ireland!” She continued to laugh as Kelly blushed harder and took her hand, walking into the bigger hall, “Lord!” Uhtred looked up from where he was talking to his wife and he smiled, “Abbess- Miss Kelly, hello! When did you arrive!” “She just arrived with your fool of a man, Finan!” Uhtred looked over, and Finan kept his eyes down at the sword he was sharpening, ears darkening slightly, “I see.” He smirked, “Please- come and sit down- it is wonderful to see you again.” “And you, Lord.” She smiled bashfully, turning to Gisela, “And you, Lady Gisela.” Gisela smiled and chuckled to herself, “So- Am I right to assume Finan finally asked—” “— ABOUT THE SWORDS HER FATHER WAS WORKING ON, YES.” Finan shouted far too loudly. Everyone stared at him a moment. Shitric was overcome with fits of laughter, “Shut it! Shitric I swear I will cut out yer tongue!” “Honestly, Irishman.” Kelly chuckled, “Calm down.” The Irishman looked up at her for the first time since she’d slapped him. His soulful brown eyes betrayed him. He looked lost, helpless, vulnerable. He snapped to her obediently, as if he was already her beloved. After a few moments lost in each other, Finan sighed and looked back down. He stood and walked over to an alcove fire pit, feeling sorry for himself. He thought he would never court the beautiful woman. He was too afraid of hurting her, of being hurt. Kelly watched him. Her hands clasped to her chest. Gisela smiled and placed her hand on Kelly’s arm, “Dear, would you bring this plate of food to Finan? There is enough for you both.” She took the platter with bread, meat and cheese, still frozen in place. Hild nudged her, “Go on.” Once she spurred Kelly to movement, the nun went and sat with Uhtred, recanting the story to him; “He mentioned how she must be in want of a man… in so many words— and she SLAPPED him!” Hild laughed, Gisela held her husband’s hand tight as she also laughed. The thought of his oath-man being slapped by a woman was hysterical. Just the kind of woman Finan needed, “But- she also has said she has never felt this way about a man.” “I knew it.” Uhtred spoke lowly to her and Gisela, “I knew she fancied him— she always looks for him when I arrive in the palace, or on the street. I catch them sharing a soul gaze often. Connected.” “But we shouldn’t push it, darling.” Gisela warned. “No. no.” Hild urged, “Let them come to it.” Uhtred put up a hand, “Relax, ladies. Finan is my brother. He deserves to be as happy as I am. I won’t ruin this chance for him— besides— he can ruin it himself.” He laughed.

Nestled down in an alcove, lit only by a fire pit, Finan sat in silence, feeling sorry for himself, feeling he looked less a man in front of the girl. “Finan?” Her voice was like angels singing, “I’ve brought something for us to eat.” Looking up at her he smiled half-heartedly and motioned for her to sit, “Hey— I am sorry what I said to ye, it was rude.” She smiled bashfully, shrugging, “You were sort of right.” “I was?” He looked up at her in earnest. Nodding, Kelly sighed, “I do long for freedom, for wind in my hair, along with other things. I long for passion, for kinship. For intimacy.” He swallowed, “Intimacy.” Looking up at him she took a deep breath, trying to change the subject, “Finan? Were you ever married? You’re too handsome to have never been married.” “Ye t’ink I’m handsome?” He grinned, pushing his hand over his newly cropped hair, “As rough around tha edges as I am?” “I’ve heard you looked rougher…” Kelly laughed softly, “You didn’t answer my question.” Finan smirked and sighed, “Yes. Once upon a time, lass, I was.” “What happened?” She moved a bit closer to him, putting her hand on his. The irishman took her hand and moved his fingers over her soft skin, lost in thought for a long while before he spoke, “It’s no’ important, girl, it's in the past.” “Finan.” Kelly said softly, her fingers meeting and running over his. Finan shrugged, “Maybe someday I’ll wan’ ta talk about it.” He pulled her hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss on her inner-wrist, “But no’ today.” He smiled sadly, “All I want anyone ta know is I was sold ta slavery.  Where two years into my world ‘a torment, I met Uhtred.” The girl just watched him as he continued to pepper kisses on her hand and wrist, “My wife was a miserable thing anyway- beautiful, bu’ no joy.” He took her other hand, kissing it, “You, my lady, are like a faery queen. Full o’ charm and laughter and spirit.” The woman flushed harder, finally taking her hands from his,  to touch his face- raising his head so he looked at her, “I feel like I’ve known you, in another life.” He smiled, “Maybe ye have,” Leaning against her touch, he smiled, closing his eyes, “I want to know if ye’ll have dinner wit’ me sometime? Jus you an me?” She nodded gently, “I’d like that.” He grinned, “Jus’ like tha? I’ve been tryin ta ask ye for weeks,” turning his face to look at her again, “Yer beautiful, did ye know tha’?” Her cheeks flushed bright red, “Thank you.” She laughed. Moving his hands to her face and thigh he smiled, running a thumb over her lips, “I can’t describe how ye make me feel.” “Nor I.” She whispered, heart pounding. Finan leaned in— “Getting late don’t you think?” Gisela interrupted, jolting Kelly and Finan from their trance, “Uhtred and I are getting ready to go to bed. The abbess and the others have already gone to bed,” she chuckled. “O-oh! I’m so sorry Lady!" Kelly stammered. She smiled, “Oh no no… not at all, Gods forbid I interrupt something so beautiful as this.” Gisela motioned between them, “But I don’t want your parents to worry.” Kelly nodded with a small smile, “Thank you for your hospitality, Lady Gisela.” She held out her hands and the women embraced, “Come any time.” Finan cleared his throat, “Shall I walk ye home, Lady?” Turning she blushed and smiled, “Kelly.” She insisted. He grinned again, “Shall I walk ye home, Kelly.” “Yes, Finan, you may.”

~~~~~~~

She’d bid farewell to her friends, hugging Uhtred and then Gisela once more, waving to the others who were still awake outside, wanting to get to know these cheerful Saxons and Danes more thoroughly. Finan led her out into the street, and offered his arm. Kelly took it. Finan grinned like the proudest man in the world, laying his hand over her own. Once at the gate to her family’s section adjoining the palace she smiled, “Thank you for walking me home.” She said softly. “My pleasure, my girl.” He said with a wink. “Oh now I’m your girl?” She raised an eyebrow. Finan just shrugged and pushed a strand of her hair back, “I very much would like ta kiss ye now, if I may?” She blushed and looked up at him, it was the same intense stare they’d shared in many an occasion they had the opportunity to be so close. A small nod was all it took, and just like that, he claimed her lips. The two of them kissed with slow, burning passion, his hands pulling her close, sinking in her hair, and cupping her face. Her own clutching the front of his tunic. She felt things she’d never indulged herself to feel before, blood pumping through her veins. The only thing she knew in that moment was her Irishman, the rock upon which the waves of her longing crashed. The kisses were semi-open mouthed, but Finan kept them relatively chaste. He didn’t dare try and take more than he should someone so innocent. Pulling back for some needed air, Finan was giving a lopsided grin, “Wow.” Kelly flushed and she pushed her face into his shoulder, feeling slightly overwhelmed, “Ye ever kissed anyone before, girl?” Looking up she shook her head, looking slightly afraid, “Was it bad?” He laughed quietly and kissed her lips once more, “No, Lady, yer a natural.” She smiled a little, “I hope it will suffice to show you… how I feel.” Finan smiled and leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead softly, his beard tickling her fair skin, “More than you know,” He said softly into her ear, pulling back, “Goodnight, my angel. I’ll call on ye again tomorrow, yeah?” Nodding she smiled, “Until tomorrow.” She said softly and watched until he slipped back into the darkness.

She smiled brightly and put a hand on her lips- not knowing it would be the last time she would see him, Uhtred, Sihtric, or Gisela for a few years.

[trashpandaorigins]

The Body Keeps the Score Chapter Four: Given Enough

Chapter 4! 

“I have no need of friendship, friendship causes pain

It's laughter and it's loving I disdain

I am a rock

I am an island

---

I won't disturb the slumber of feelings that have died

If I never loved I never would have cried

I am a rock

I am an island.”

I am a Rock - Simon and Garfunkle

“This is Ro…” he cut himself short, knowing it wouldn’t work. He sucked a breath, his lungs constricting to form the words, forcing the words through his tight throat. “This is Subject 89P…” his voice hitched, drifting off. Luckily it worked.

“Subject 89P13 granted access.” The screen on his pad went static for a moment before the helmeted Nova officer appeared. They never told  him their names.

“Status report?”

Rocket picked something out of his fur.

“Nothin’”

“Excuse me?”

The raccoonoid smiled, bemused at the officer’s offended huff.

“You heard me loser, there ain’t anything to report.”

The man’s frown deepened. Rocket flung his feet up on his work bench, the pad balancing precariously on his knees.

“Are you sure?” The Nova officer pressed.

“Yeah yeah,” Rocket waved a dismissive paw, that tremelian rifle could really use a new scope.  

“Need I remind you Subject, that your freedom is dependant upon your reports.” The hair on his neck raised. “The Halfworld Bioengineering Laboratory may have shut down, but according to intergalactic law you are still property of…”

“There ain’t nothing to report!” Rocket hissed, knocking the data pad to the floor as he leapt upward. “Yah wanna know what Gamora’s done these past few days?” He leered down at the glowing screen. “She wakes up early, lifts some weights, practices with her swords for about an hour then goes to the kitchen and gets some wek and whatever else is in the cabinets, eats breakfast then goes back to her room to shower. She hasn’t done anything suspicious or dangerous or murdery alright? Nothin. If she did, I’d tell you.”

“You had better,” the man’s thin voice threatened then calmed, mechanically.  “We’ll transfer your units momentarily. We expect another report in one week Xandarian time.”

“Fine,” Rocket fumed, jabbing his finger at the disconnect button. The screen blipped back to a clear glass looking pad.

“Mmmmmggg.”

The raccoonoid’s ears swiveled instantly in the direction of Groot’s little container. The tiny flora wiped his eyes with the back of his leafy hands. Rocket was at his side before he finished yawning, tipping the small watering container with precise calculation. He watched the carefully preheated water, (luke-warm but not too warm), fill up to the rim of the container and stopped immediately.

“How’s that?” He waited to hear those three little words, but Groot only smiled and stretched his arms out the water sinking into the porous soil.

“Gggg!”

Rocket groaned, running a paw over his face, flicking his tail.

“Just get up man.”

Groot did not appear to understand the exasperation in the raccoonoid’s tone, doing nothing but wiggling in his container and smiled. Rocket rolled his eyes, hoisting Baby Groot on his hip and stepping over the tangle of wires and cables of the uttellien bomb he was refurbishing.

“Never gonna give you up never gonna let you down..”

Quill’s never ending music echoed through the halls of the Benatar, newly christened after the Nova Corps had salvaged as many pieces of the original as they could. I could’ve done better, Rocket eyed the tiny purple ysi growing on the cracks of the metal paneling against the walls. Groot shook from side to side in his pot, flecks of dirt falling onto his fur.

“Hey!”

Rocket snapped at him, one paw cupped around the thin trunk.

“Your gonna uproot yourself man! Stop that!”

Groot’s happy smile crumbled, replaced by wide eyed fear at the raccoonoid’s inpatient tone and bared teeth.

“Never gonna say goodbye, never gonna make you cry!”

Flark it!

The little flora opened his mouth, letting loose a wail to rival any explosive. The hair on Rocket’s neck bristled, claws digging into the pot.

“Shut up!”

He snapped, picking up the pace, up the stairs to everyone’s separate quarters as well as the kitchen and common area. Groot’s wailing escalated ripping through the soft flesh of Rocket’s enhanced ears. The music bumped, joining with the sound of crying.

“....the latest scanner says there was a ship spotted in the fourth quadrant. She’s probably headed for Kilvore, an outlying planet on the Vrtrien belt. Home to several billion people.”

“Yeah but Gamora...going after Nebula there’s no...will you keep him quiet?”

“How about you shut your flarking music off? How ‘bout that?” He slammed Groot’s little pot down on the table with fury.

“Easy Rocket, be gentle! You’re gonna hurt him!”

Gamora’s concern rose to anger, eyes wide as the table shook and Groot let out another series of plaintive cries, sap streaming down his face. Rocket’s tail thrashed, pointed teeth snarling over the music.

“Don't tell me how to care for him!”

"Your not caring for him that's the point!"

“Is there going to be a brawl?”

Drax leaned down from the narrow galley stairwell, poking his head into the common area.

“No! No there’s not.” Quill interjected. Rocket watched the humie’s disapproving glare as he strode over towards over to Groot. Attempting to placate the little flora who only responded with more incessant howling.

“That is disappointing,” Drax continued, stepping down the ladder. “I would very much like to see our furry friends fight with the lady assassin.”

Rocket bit back a curse, attention snapping towards Groot once more as he tried to wriggle his roots through the soil.

“He ain’t ready to get out yet! He’s gonna hurt himself!”

Groot only sniffled as Quill began to dance before him-or at least Rocket guessed it was supposed to be a dance. The human shook his legs and arms wildly, gyrating his hips and twirling around for the flora’s amusement. The song tempered off as  Quill spun around, arms outstretched and hands waving.

“Tahh daaaah!”

“MMMgggg!”

Groot giggled, waving his own arms in mimicry.

“You’re an idio…...dumbass Quill.”

As usual the humie waved a dismissive hand, laughing along with Groot. Rocket’s ears flattened against his skull, feeling Gamora’s judgemental gaze against his back.

“We ain’t taking Groot outta his pot and we ain’t going after Nebula.”

“We were going after the mean blue lady?”

Drax stepped around Gamora, rummaging through the cabinets and grabbing a bag of sgig chips and chewing loud enough to make Rocket want to claw his face off.

“No, we don’t know yet.”  Quill tried to de escalate, he picked Groot’s pot up in his arms without asking Rocket, and carried him back over to Gamora and Drax.

“As long as she is out there we are danger!” Gamora urged, her fists curled on the counter.

“No , you’re in danger!” Rocket vaulted up onto the counter top, pointing one clawed finger in her face.  “She ain’t trying to kill me.” The woman’s eyes narrowed, a vein in her neck pulsing with fury.

“You selfish little….”

“We haven’t decided what we’re doing yet Rocket it is up to all of us. We’re making a decision as a team.” The humie’s perturbed face looked between them, the pleading in his eyes. Groot gurgled nervously as the four of them exchanging heated unspoken glares.

“We ain’t going after Nebula!” Rocket pressed again, watching Groot leaning forward in his pot. I ain’t putting him in danger again. This time was too close. He’d seen enough of Nebula to know her sadism, know the lengths she would go to to murder Gamora. He’d go to those same lengths to protect Groot.

“We must!” Gamora shouted at him, “don’t you understand? If we let her go she will tell Thanos what I’ve done and she’ll come back, she’ll kill us all.”

“Good, let her come.” Drax snapped, “we will kill her if she tries to harm you. Or kidnap her, and make her lead us to Thanos. Then at last, I can have my vengeance.”

“Will you get it together yah’ moron? We just saved the damn galaxy! We’re lucky to be alive! Groot’s lucky to be alive!” He threw a paw toward the Groot, the rest of the Guardians following his gesture, falling into an uncomfortable silence.

The baby flora only giggled as the next song on Quill’s mixtape reved up. Gamora took a deep breath, and Rocket braised himself, clenching his fists and sneering at her.

“I know you care about him Rocket, we all do. But tracking down Nebula is the best shot we have at keeping him and everyone safe.”

“Tsch, I ain’t buyin’ it! We ain’t going after her, she’s more ruthless than you!”

“Rocket…”

“Don’t Rocket me,” he barked.  “If you wanna go after that psycho fine! But don’t drag me and Groot into this! He’s gone through enough shit for all you ungrateful losers! He almost died! Don’t ask us to do it again!”

“I don’t want to do this either but we have to,”

“Guys just calm down, we can settle this!”

Rocket let loose a hiss, fangs bared leaning towards Gamora to match her anger. One paw reaching for his pistol, set to stun of course.

“Rodent no!” Drax interceded between the pair of them. Rocket jumped down from the counter, chest tensing. Shame welled up in the pit of his stomach. Before the tears could come he cursed, storming from the common area back down to the engine room despite Gamora’s calls of apology.

The large metal doors clanged behind him. The music cutting off almost entirely. Rocket reached under one of his work benches for his stash of etrian lager downing a bottle in several choking gulps. He drank because he was bored because he was angry, because the liquid promised aid to a restless and nightmare plagued sleep. Because he could. 

And she says I’m selfish, I ain’t the one dragging us all into danger because I’m too soft to kill some wacko cyborg assassin who’s trying to kill me. She’s a coward. 

He pushed the amalgamation of blankets and scraps of fabric he’d gathered together into some semblance of a bed. Rocket curled up in a fuming ball of anger. Thoughts of Groot in danger of him splintering apart. Of his own rageful hopelessness. He shifted, trying to adjust himself . Too soft, too still. Grown Groot’s chest was much more comfortable. The blankets were too floppy, too flimsy. Not like those strong wooden arms at all. The tears of frustration and hurt at Drax’s comments pressed against his eyes. If Groot were larger again he’d know what to do. He’d know what to say.

“Flark it,” Rocket whispered to himself, sniffing and wiping a paw across his wet nose. That uttellien bomb really did need work. He dragged himself across the room, intent on working until exhaustion finally overtook him. Only twice did Rocket turn over his shoulder to expect Groot’s lumbering form above him.