#I wish we had Dale for longer

[winnie-the-monster]

[pi-creates]

I can’t stop being upset about Veilguard’s writing, and apparently the only way I can get it out of my thoughts is to put it down in words, so here we go…

I’m frustrated, I’m upset, and the longer I think about the way this game was written, the more problems present themselves… and I bloody hate that. It feels like a first draft writing effort, and every time I’m reminded that this game was in development for so many years, I cannot fathom this being the end result. Dragon Age 2 had 16 months of development, and it feels more cohesive and put together writing-wise. I can see the years of polish in the visuals, but the spectacle of the game doesn’t blind me to all the problems in the writing.

Naturally, these are personal opinions, I am genuinely thrilled for people who have played the game and enjoyed it – I wish I could be there enjoying it with you – but clearly these things get under my skin more and spoil the experience for me when they aren’t problems for you. And I also acknowledge there are genuine good parts of the game which I enjoy, but those moments aren’t enough to overshadow the negative experiences that irk me.

And because this post has apparently gotten away from me… I’m gonna put some headings to summarise the problems I’m having, because otherwise this is just a massive rant with no structure.

Show me things, stop just telling it to me.

So much of the game feels like writer’s notes where they put “what the player should take away from this scene” and instead of being creative with how they do that, they just say it verbatim. My immersion in this game was being broken by the game reminding me it’s a video game – which yes, I know it is, but I want to be invested in this world and feel like I’m part of it.

Varric and the game’s own pop-up system is the main problem that’s consistent through the whole game – constantly dropping narration or mission summary where they have zero problem dropping exposition on us and/or spoiling future content. Forget letting me explore these things and reach my own conclusions, the game is going to make sure I know exactly the interpretation I’m meant to have for every moment.

And it’s so damn frequent, I feel like they don’t think I’m paying attention and therefore need to constantly poke me with reminders instead of trusting me to reach my own conclusions. Do they not trust me to have an attention span long enough to go on a walk with Davrin without reminding me at the end of the walk that I did that?

To add to that problem, I absolutely hate how the writing just has people know things – they shouldn’t know this, they shouldn’t be talking to us about this, all evidence points to them not being able to know or be ok discussing this, but for some reason they do.

The Veil Jumpers suddenly just know how to translate and interact with ancient elven artifacts, ignore how the Dalish have been trying to do that since the fall of the Dales (and realistically, even before that) and their efforts over those hundreds of years were a scrap, a pittance of what could be known. But I guess the Veil Jumpers are just better than those hundreds of years in the few years they’ve been active.

Oh, and the scary reputation of the Dalish is just gone? These people just go to the elves they have deemed “savages” because they simply know these ones have good intentions? This world has been established as very untrusting of the intentions of other groups, but that’s simply gone now for this one – I wish I was shown how this started in some way instead of just being told it’s chill now.

And don’t get me started on Strife and Irelin and their seemingly endless knowledge that they shouldn’t have. I read the comics, I get that they’d probably know about the Dreadwolf and have a vested interest in learning more once that particular bit of information was revealed to them – but they somehow also just know about the mask Cyrian is wearing? They know it will influence him but not control his will? Why do you know this with no doubt whatsoever?

Why can’t these things just be presented as theories? Or give us something to find and reference where that information comes from? I want to learn things without just having characters tell me things they know.

And overall, I hate how this game decides to just exposition dump information on us, then we sit around and talk about the exposition dump – it’s overwhelming in magnitude. It feels like such a passive way to have us engage with everything, and this is supposed to be an interactive experience. Instead of being force-fed exposition in big chunks, drip feed details, let us put the puzzle together, let us gather and discuss what we learn with multiple interpretations like the RPG this is meant to be.

And this exposition problem also ruins the stakes in the game for me. Personal interpretation, probably, but the stakes in this game feel artificially inflated to me via having characters constantly tell Rook they are going up against the biggest threat ever. We bring in past heroes of the series to reiterate that, how they think we’re up against worse things than they faced… and I don’t feel that. Telling me constantly how hopeless things are, but every obstacle ends up being overcome relatively easily and without great losses… no, I don’t feel the stakes are real.

Oh, and hearing the talk of how all of Thedas is in trouble, there is so much destruction and only Rook can save them… why don’t you find a way to show me that? Because I’m not feeling that, I’m not seeing it, and I’m starting to think the Inquisitor is making stuff up so Rook doesn’t ask them to get involved again when they’re so busy.

This is a lore problem in the series…

Plot holes and wonky lore can happen, it’s not surprising… especially when there are three games prior to this as well as several books, comics, and other branches of the universe. There have been inconsistencies since the start, and a lot of it doesn’t matter – I don’t care if the second moon is forgotten about, the moon not being there isn’t going to make a problem with the way the story is told since that moon is never something elaborated upon in the plot.

This game though… it has problem that are both related to information in this game not being consistent with previous games, and information within its own contained plot contradicting itself.

I’m not going to beat the dead horse of “this isn’t how the previous games did it/explained it”, people who played the previous games are aware, I don’t see a point of elaborating in detail all the instances of this. Just take some dot points of the one’s I noticed:

The Crows are a horrifying organisation that are suddenly presented wholesome

The Qun offering to rehabilitate Karash is horrifying and it’s presented wholesome

Slaves are meant to be everywhere in Tevinter, but we don’t see that

Racism is supposed to be rampant in Tevinter (and other nations, but particularly here for any non-human), and we also don’t see that

Handling pure lyrium is fine now (unless you’re Harding)

Adult Dalish without vallaslin (Elgar’nan’s captives)

Fenharel’s agents are just gone now – as are all signs of mass elven exodus from cities

Solas’ opinion on blood magic is suddenly negative instead of neutral

Spirits dying is given the same weight as people dying

Flemeth…….just everything about Flemeth and Morrigan

Re-write of the after credits scene in Inquisition to recontextualise the Flemeth and Solas interaction

Isabela’s attitude towards Shathann sending Taash away without their knowledge (the comics make me doubt she’d be cool with this)

Non-Dalish elves knowing things about ancient elves and elven language

Blight sickness and how darkspawn are “born” (some leeway for this one since the blight is overall just different in this one, but it does feel less interesting this way)

Morrigan naming the Crossroads in lieu of the true name being lost to time, but everyone uses the term now

Crossroads looking different through elven eyes

You can’t just make people be magic/not magic (me side-eyeing Illario and his random ability to do magic now)

This is a contained problem in this game…

What troubles me more is the inconsistencies within the same game… that isn’t just deciding “this is how it works now in this iteration”, this is a problem that they wrote into existing, then either didn’t notice or didn’t resolve appropriately. And granted, some of these things aren’t inherently plot holes, but when you put certain aspects under inspection, it doesn’t make things look good.

For starters… I have to talk about Varric. Or more accurately, not-Varric.

I’m under the impression that not-Varric is simply Rook’s memory of Varric being projected for them. I personally don’t think there’s some extra level of Solas interference in what Rook is seeing moment to moment… and I feel the need to state that because Rook’s memory cannot conjure up information that Rook doesn’t know.

So why does not-Varric point out that the ritual dagger is the dagger from DA2?

Rook could not recognise it, there is absolutely no reason for Rook to even theorise that – so not-Varric should not be able to impart this knowledge to Rook. And what makes this worse for me, aside from being an impossible situation as the plot presents it, is that this observation doesn’t matter in the slightest. They put this backstory to the McGuffin Dagger and I don’t know why since all it does is create a plot hole. The only purpose I can see for this moment existing at all is to bolster the illusion that not-Varric is real and trying to help with the cause in whatever way possible.

Then there are other issues with Varric not being alive which makes other character’s lack of talking about him feel awful. Like, it’s not natural the way people avoid mentioning him when it would be very appropriate to do so – and I understand that to an extent, the game’s gotta game – they want to surprise us and therefore the characters aren’t going to blatantly give the surprise away early. But the Inquisitor doesn’t ask after him at all? Doesn’t mention how Kirkwall is coping now that the viscount is dead? Dorian doesn’t say anything after learning Varric found Solas in his city and then died? Isabela has nothing to say about Varric until after the illusion is broken for Rook?

It makes it feel like Varric’s friends (aside from Harding, the only person who seems to actively mourn him at the start of the game) don’t give two shits that he’s gone.

That’s not even accounting for how characters don’t bother to check in with Rook who is constantly talking with the companions about their various issues of mourning, hearing voices or apparitions, and just checking in with them overall – but none of that is seemingly reciprocated.

Frankly, this makes me feel awful. I feel awful for Varric being seen as so disposable that his friends don’t mention him or his absence. I feel awful for Rook who is apparently not worth the direct effort that they offer others.

And I try to think of how a new player to this series would feel about all of this – because Varric was just some guy who walked us through a tutorial in this game. Most of our time with him is fake, any connection I saw form between Rook and Varric in this game isn’t real – but then Rook mourns Varric more than he mourns the companions we have spent most of the game with.

I don’t like it.

And I don’t like the utilisation of returning characters. Morrigan, or as she’s utilised in this game deus-ex-Morrigan, has a new view of Flemeth and therefore she will take on Mythal’s soul fragment so she can again swoop in and save the day by handing us the means to get a reconciliation type ending… it couldn’t be something that characters in this game figure out, just have a returning character provide us with the magic solution. Also ignore how the whole reason Morrigan was afraid of her mother in the DAO and DAI was that her body would get taken over by her spirit… but I guess that doesn’t happen now. We can just create new rules for this iteration because it’s easier to tell the story this way.

Solas is also just… I’m so upset by what was done with him. He was a character in DAI who told half-truths or lied by omission, leaving others to assume false information without him actually saying it – it was never just blatant lies to take advantage of others. And his motivations were about restoration of something he felt he had robbed the world, it was about righting what he viewed as a mistake which lead to such a cascade of problems that he needed to somehow rectify it. Whether you agree with his point of view or his desires doesn’t matter, his principles remain the same in terms of what motivates him.

Then this game happens and he’s just a liar constantly, and not even a clever one if you can apparently just trick him up with a “woopsie, this isn’t the real dagger”, and he also apparently has no insight into the idea that Rook would anticipate that.

They make him act like the worst interpretation someone could have of him, the thing he actively was trying to tell us was a false interpretation in DAI and the comics. But history was written and remembered by those who experienced the negative outcomes of his choices, and they remembered that as the greatest evil in comparison to what else could have been. But apparently in this game, that’s the truth now. His motivation is about his desires and he cares nothing for the people who has hurt or will be hurt. But it’s ok, because just as easily as his motivation changed between DAI and Veilguard, it will be changed again at end game if you listen to deus-ex-Morrigan.

Then there are smaller things, but things that really would have been caught if someone was just paying a little bit of attention…

Like Harding and Emmrich going camping in Fereldan… which if we’re to believe the things the Inquisitor was saying about Southern Thedas, I don’t think you’re going to have a fun trip. But I’m glad they’re able to find some time for a vacation while the refugees are getting blighted all over.

Or Rook actively saying “I should talk to Varric” directly in front of characters in the lead up to end-game, and those characters choosing to completely ignore that.

Or in Neve’s companion story, Aelia deciding to interrogate the witness to the red lyrium deal right next to where it happened. She didn’t need to be in the area, she was puppetting the smuggler, and she clearly has insight into what the person is seeing and doing while puppetting them. So I guess she’s just there so we can figure out she was involved.

Or the game telling us that Anaris need Cyrian to perform rituals for him since Anaris doesn’t have a physical body to do them himself… except he apparently doesn’t because he can kill Cyrian when he disobeys. I still would like to know if Cyrian ever died originally, by the way, and if so how he’s back and seemingly normal – this game likes to answer big lore questions like it’s nothing, but they just gloss over details like this.

Or how in Emmrich’s missions, Manfred’s spirit dies and can just be brought back to life… so I guess spirits dying means nothing if they can be brought back with their memory and personality intact. So that Solas flashback where we were supposed to be appalled that spirits died? Apparently there was nothing lost there, someone just needs to revive them and they can carry on as normal.

Or how the rewrite of DAI’s ending cutscene implies that Solas killed Flemeth/Mythal… before he had the power to do so since the whole reason he has been able to do anything in this game is because he absorbed her amassed power. So Flemeth/Mythal would have to let her power go willingly since Solas should not be able to forcibly take it, but clearly, she didn’t since the dialogue we’re given is her being reluctant. Solas apparently has the power he needs to do things when the plot demands it, but also no power when the plot demands it (aka, when Rook needs to prove they’re better than him).

Or the crew making a fake Ritual dagger near end game. For no reason whatsoever. They just decided to do that knowing it would only be a prop, but they had no plans that even involved a prop at that point – so they just did this because the plot told them they had to.

And speaking of that Ritual dagger… all the old elves want that dagger for one reason of another, but they never seem to try to get it when they can, or they don’t seem too concerned when it’s not in their grip anymore. Solas doesn’t try to hold onto it after Varric gets stabbed. Elgar’nan doesn’t try to pick it up after it kills Ghilan’nain, in spite of him knowing it’s the one thing that can kill him… nope, just leave it there and peace out.

Or my personal most hated thing – Isseya and her stupid motivation making no sense.

I cannot fathom the logic of having Isseya, a warden who was forced to blight griffons, who came to resent this order as she watched the griffons go mad, made it her mission to safeguard a clutch of eggs, takes the blight from the eggs into herself while using magic to put the eggs into status, then goes off to her calling which doesn’t actually end in her death… and somehow, 400 years later, she’s decided that since those eggs have hatched and the griffons are healthy and unblighted, the thing she wanted, but they’re in the hands of wardens which she doesn’t really like, so now she’s gonna go get those griffons to blight them.

Literally doing the thing that made her so mad at the wardens. Because she wants to save the griffons from the wardens and their cruelty… by repeating it… I just… this is nonsense.

If she’s capable of articulating that she’s mad at the wardens for their cruelty to the griffons, then she shouldn’t be repeating it thinking she’s saving the griffons. If she was just keeping the griffons captive to keep them away from the wardens, then I could buy that, but adding the element of her wanting to blight them just makes this nonsensical.

Oh and never talk the First Warden down – it will make the final scenes with Isseya even worse if he tells you about the feather from her griffon and show it to her. Because I don’t even think Isseya dies in that variant of the cutscene, she just says sorry and rolls on the floor while I guess Rook and Davrin let the griffons out…

Who is Rook?

Usually, in a game like this, choices are what make us feel like an active participant in the world. It helps us build up our own character and determine how/why they behave the way they do, and also how the world around them is shaped by the consequences of those moments.

But this game feels so stripped of choice, especially choice which is any way related to morality or priorities that aren’t standard ‘Hero traits’. Rook will always do the right thing, they can’t be motivated by personal desires, excitement, monetary gain, fame, etc…. and when Rook is forced to make a choice, there is no option which would be looked at as unreasonable by companions. They might give us an approval/disapproval pop up, but it never really feels like Rook is capable of being incompatible with anyone, they will always be seen as justified in companion’s eyes. And to me, this makes Rook as the game presents them incredibly bland.

Most of Rook’s unique characterisation happens in the character creator – the game gives us minimal chances to expand or form a personality for Rook that is significantly different from any other person who plays the game. We do the heavy lifting here, we transpose qualities on Rook because the game won’t give us meaningful opportunities to do that.

And not only do I feel like the game lacks choices that would help us define Rook, it lacks decisions that make me feel like I’m having any impact on the world overall. I can defend Minrathous or I can defend Treviso… this is the one choice we make which seems to actually shape the world we play in.

And it doesn’t even come up as something Rook can regret in the sequence about regrets… Rook apparently is faced with only regrets that are the result of other people’s decisions to volunteer to do something. But the one thing where Rook actually has to actively choose something, something they are actually responsible for the suffering on the side they don’t defend… that isn’t something they can regret.

What the hell is that supposed to mean? Surely, if Rook should regret anything it should be the thing they feel direct responsibility for, no? But Rook doesn’t. Because Rook doesn’t regret anything they do, because they aren’t written with choices that they can regret since they aren’t seen as responsible for negative outcomes.

Honestly, that sequence might as well have been about mourning or sadness rather than regret, because Rook has to be upset at the loss of companions, we don’t get to influence that. But Rook isn’t regretful – that’s how they get out – but I can’t help but wonder why they didn’t then make us able to actively regret the legitimate choices we make, rather than feeling regret for our companions deciding to risk themselves.

Rook feels like an outside observer to everything that happens around them. They are the mediator, the sounding board, the magic-8-ball for decision making when companions need a push because they’re stuck. Sure, they do things, but for an RPG the way they go about things feels so linear.

And on another note… why is Rook seen as important? They start championing Varric’s cause in his absence, they want to stop the veil coming down and that starts with stopping Solas, then stopping Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain. But to the outside observer, Rook is just some guy who says they are on an important missions, and they really need to speak with all these important leaders of factions – just trust them, I’m sure the First Warden is happy to make time for a meeting. And also the First Talon of the Crows, I’m sure they are fine with just some foreign person saying they need to meet your leader.

What I’m trying to get at is that Rook has no title, your group isn’t given any proper title or status which these people can look at and assume Rook is being truthful, trustworthy, or even worth their time. No one has any reason to hear Rook out, but in this game, they either just do, or they don’t and it’s because they’re actually a bad guy.

But Rook is no one special. They realistically shouldn’t be trusted like they are, they should absolutely be struggling to be taken seriously by others but it’s portrayed as unfair when that does happen. But they’re the protagonist, and it’s like everyone in the world simply knows that. I want Rook to struggle, I want them to grow and prove themselves, but it feels like we skip passed that to get straight to the fantasy of being in charge and considered fit for that role. 

Pacing and feeling like something was missing…

The start and ending throw a lot at us and expect us to keep on running – but then the middle portion of the game suffers due to the companions putting a stop sign on the plot so you can do their companion quests. And they aren’t shy about telling you “you need to stop and do our quests or we’ll be distracted at end game”… and again, thank you game for explaining game mechanics to me.

I was going to complete character quests, because if I care about the characters of course I’m going to do that. Having to actually pause the plot and have the characters explain to you that you have to care… I don’t know how to explain this, but it immediately took me out of the fragile immersion I was trying to get into. It makes me upset with the companions for reasons I can’t put into words. Maybe it’s because in one fell swoop it made me see them as checklists to be completed instead of people I wanted to know? I’m not sure, if someone had a similar reaction to this moment and has a better explanation, I would love to be enlightened on what it is that makes me so uncomfortable about this.

But I digress, the problem here is that the plot grinds to a halt. We stop doing things which feel like we’re advancing our plan of stopping the big baddies, we just kind of patter around and make sure our companions feel ok. And most of those missions to help our companions aren’t connected to the enemy we’re facing… Aelia, Anaris, Hezenkoss, Illario, The Dragon King, Isseya – they aren’t agents of the big baddies, they are just enemies that pop up at the same time as the big baddies are around, and are therefore making the situation worse.

So yes, we’re still doing stuff, but it feels like fluff. It feels like a detour while we just hope the world doesn’t burn while we stop to go on another picnic.

This is something that happens in a lot of games, the urgency isn’t real because you can stop progressing plot to go for a long walk if you want to – but in none of the other games did it feel so blatant to me. I still felt like most of the little tasks in the interim of plot advancement were at least advancing the cause in little ways… I don’t feel that with a lot of the things that happen in the middle of the game. It just becomes about companion missions; the bad guys will wait until we sort that out, the blight will stop advancing so we can have family dinners and go for walks.

And I really don’t know how to explain this, but it feels like something is missing in how the story progresses. Like extra things were meant to be happening and they are just not there. Maybe this is another part of how the game often just tells me things that happen in scene transitions, or it’s me really wishing there were more actual plot advancing missions in the middle of the game.

This problem I think also is most evident in the romances. Veilguard seems to take its romance pacing more from the Mass Effect games than the previous Dragon Age games – and while it was acceptable in Mass Effect to have very few romance scenes, and predominantly only having one big scene which culminates at end game, but suddenly introducing it in this series makes it feel like a huge downgrade from previous instalments.

It feels like we’re missing things, we’re given banters by companions commenting on the progress of our relationship and our partner can talk about how close they feel to our Rook – we’re given the impression our relationship is strong and established midway through the game. But with how strong the characters talk, it feels like we should have experienced so many more interactions with our partner to substantiate that.

For comparisons sake, in DAI if you enter a romance prior to going to the Winter Palace, you get romantic dialogue with your partner if they’re present, you get a dance, you get to feel like you’re in a relationship as it’s developing into something deeper. You get more interactions as the game goes on, moving from spoken interest, kisses, and intimacy (in most cases). It’s a slow build, and let’s you feel the build up by giving you glimpses of each step as the relationship develops, and then letting you just experience being in the relationship.

This game feels like it gives us the bare minimum in actual content, but has characters talk about how established the relationship is. The heavy lifting is again left to us to interpret all these blank spaces and fill in how this relationship is developing. The problem isn’t inherently with what the game gives us, it's what it doesn’t.

It lets us choose a relationship in the middle of the game, then it doesn’t give us all the progression – rather it gives us the minimal amount of snippets to meet the checklist of “they express interest, they mutually agree to be in a relationship, the relationship is consummated physically”. Sure, we can continue to pick flirt/love based dialogues, but it doesn’t feel nearly as strong as the banters seem to be telling us it is. And over all, we can go a very long time between each progression point.

I love this franchise, and I so desperately wanted to like this instalment… and instead I feel hollow.

[elveny]

I’m a bit annoyed at myself for still reading Hot Takes[tm] on DA Veilguard but apparently, I’m not quite done being angry and disappointed and heartbroken about the way they lacklustre finished a series that mattered so damn much to me that I considered getting tattoos of it.

I put so much love into my OCs and that universe, the relationships to other characters and with the problems of the world. And it feels like they spit on everything they built and made us players connect with. And for what? So they could wipe the slate clean.

Ferelden, Orlais, Free Marches, the Dales, everything we visited and freed and brought together? Destroyed by the Blight. Offscreen.

Every character that mattered to us? Assume they’re dead because Blight. Or if they turn up in DATV, the connections to your OC isn’t mentioned, so you can ignore it. Oh, the immortal god? Conveniently forgot all his goals and disappeared into the now forever closed-off realm of dreams and magic.

Every problem that has been discussed and been a huge deal in earlier games, from the Blight to the treatment of mages to religion, possession and slavery? Don’t worry about it, it no longer exists. Or isn’t a problem anymore because, uh, don’t worry about it.

Oh the complex villains we had? Weren’t complex after all, there’s a Mysterious Big Bad that has directed Everything from the shadows. Invisible, unnoticeable even by the most powerful beings alive. No decision was ever a decision. Or complex. Even Flemeth wasn’t truly acting on her own accord. Solas probably neither but again, don’t worry about it! He’s gone for good anyway, so nothing matters.

GODS I’m so angry and disappointed. I wish I never played that fucking game.

[letaliabane]

The Aftermath (CARE FOR SERIES)

Pair: Thorin Oakenshield x Healer!Reader (a pretty short human one too lol) A/N: The fight for Erebor is finally over! The war has been won! However as the mountain and the town of Dale begin to thrive once more, our couple are more apart than ever before, and Thorin is keen for answers. Will they allow themselves the joy of not only peace, but love? Genre: Bouts of angst, but also lots and lots of fluff that we’ve ALL been waiting for (including me), and some good ol’ smut! Warning: brief mentions of abuse/torture, smut (not heavy smut but still a warning just in case) animal death (one hunting scene nothing too details or gorey but just in case) PREVIOUS (The Light Within)

Six months had passed since what was now called the Battle of the Five Armies, inked into the fresh pages of books, told by spokespeople in Dale and within the halls of Erebor. As the dwarves began to return to their mountain and build anew, celebrations began, the ale flowed and rich foods ladled over rows and rows of tables with joyful music ringing through the grand halls of the mountain.

And yet all the while, Thorin, the King to the throne of Erebor, dressed in the finest of furs and sat with food barely touched, could not find it in his heart to celebrate. Not when the woman he longed for was no longer by his side.

The days that followed the end of the war were a blur of pain. He vaguely remembered Kili calling your name from afar. 

It was only after he had substantially recovered that he was informed by his youngest nephew of what had occurred between Y/N and the dwarf who had guarded his door. He did not resist dealing the appropriate punishment to them. 

With Oin being firm in stressing his need for rest and proper recovery, Thorin had sent members of the company, either alone or in pairs, to look in search of her, to bring her back to him. All returning with no such luck. 

And though the duties of being King rested heavily on his shoulders more than ever before, his thoughts often still drifted to her. Her wonderful laugh that had his heart soaring, her glowing smile that had long ago captured his heart, her kindness, her bravery. Her stubbornness matched his own. How all he wished was to up and leave to find her, and somehow encourage her to return to his side—

'Thorin?'

He turned towards Balin who sat on his right, his face drawn in concern.

'Are you all right laddie? You've barely eaten anything tonight and been quiet.'

'Have a lot on my mind is all Balin. Nothing to worry about,' Thorin said with a forced smile, taking a long sip from his ale.

'You'd think with the war over you wouldn't have too much on your mind.' Dwalin piped up from next to his brother, stabbing into the meat on his plate. 

'Unlike you Dwalin I have a kingdom to take care of. My mind will never settle.' Balin quickly spoke up. 'Be that as it may, you should take the time to celebrate your victories my King. After all you have fought for you deserve this more than anyone else.' 

Seeing Dwalin had turned to other conversation, Thorin muttered quietly, 'I cannot celebrate when I have not undone all my wrongdoings... I cannot celebrate with who I truly wish for most.' 

Balin halts mid-mouthful, quickly putting down his cutlery. 'Thorin we have looked high and low for that lass and sent the best trackers after her. If she wished to be found we would have found her by now.' 

The King slammed his fist down onto the table angrily. 'It's not good enough!' 

There was a dreadfully long pause between them, thankfully no attention drawn away from the merriment as the crowd continued to drink, laugh and dance. 

He sighed heavily, turning back to his advisor. 'I'm sorry Balin, I did not mean that.'

'It's quite all right laddie. All I wish to say is that maybe we let her have her peace. It's the very least she deserves.' 

Without another word, Balin turned back to his plate, continuing to eat quietly. Thorin sighs heavily, nails digging into the wood of the table. His thoughts wandered once more to Y/N, and then it struck him. 

He shot to his feet, shocking those around him as he left the table without a word, ignoring those who called out after him as he left the Great Hall. 

Making his way to where the ravens roosted, he knew there was one person whom he could summon for assistance.

Gandalf trudged through the grand marble halls of Erebor, led by Dwalin and Kili through the mountain city. He had received an urgent letter by raven requesting his presence with the King

'Do you have any clue of why I was summoned?' The wizard addressed Kili who shook his head. 'No Gandalf! It was a surprise to see you at the gate! I'm guessing that it's business to only do with Uncle.'

'Which is what I'm afraid of ...' He grumbled quietly to himself.

After moving through multiple winding corridors and staircases, he was led into a small but lavish study. The walls were lined with bookcases filled with books, an oak carved table and matching chairs fitted with red velvet cushions sat in the middle of the room while a roaring fireplace warmed the room.

Just as the elderly wizard made himself comfortable at the table, the large doors opened revealing King Thorin.

'Gandalf, I apologise if I've kept you waiting,' The King called out, shutting the doors behind him before entering the room.

'Not at all Thorin! Or should I say your Majesty?' Gandalf jested to which Thorin chuckled.

'That is not needed here between us Gandalf,' he said as he sat himself down at the other end of the table, 'I know my request for your visit was sudden, and I'm aware that I've already asked plenty from you during our travels. But I needed to attend to a matter of urgency that I believed required your expert hand.'

'Oh? And what might that be?'

Thorin sighed. 'I need your assistance in finding Y/N.'

Gandalf's eyebrows raise ever so slightly. 'Oh? Is that so?'

'Don't play coy with me Gandalf. I've been told that you were seen taking her away from Erebor while I was injured. I've been searching and searching, and I haven't found her. All I want ... All I want is to see her again.'

Gandalf took a moment to take in Thorin's appearance. Though he carried himself with confidence, he could see the pain in the King's eyes, the longing. Dark shadows creased beneath his eyes, jaw tight and locked.

'You must understand something Thorin. Y/N has survived through what one could only describe as the depths of hell, and very lucky to have returned. There isn't a day that goes by that she fights to keep the peace she has built for herself. A peace that she lost long ago, and I'm not talking about a place to call home,' Gandalf places his fingertips to his temple. 'But here, and when she feels endangered, she will linger no longer than she needs to.'

At his words, Thorin couldn't help but think back to their journey together. The way she flinched at loud noises, when her grip would tighten on her sword when overwhelmed, how at peace she was in silence when they all had sat upon the boat to Lake Town. His eyes flickered back to Gandalf as he continued.

'If she wishes to remain alone, I ask not only as your friend but also as her Guardian, that you leave her be.'

Immediately the King felt anger swell within him, the impending roar to command his authority. But as the thought of Y/N swept over his mind, the anger dulled, instead understanding overwhelmed him.

For so long he had only wished for peace away from the kingdoms, away from responsibility. He knew what that longing was like. It was the feeling he felt when he saw her among the company. Her gentle yet fierce nature, a beacon of hope so bright within the darkness that seeped into all of their lives. If anything it would kill him to take that feeling away from her.

Thorin stood to his feet and found himself in front of Gandalf, kneeling (as best he could with his newfound injuries) before him. 'As King, I swear to you.'

The old wizard chuckled, resting his hand on Thorin's shoulder with a firm squeeze, 'Come now my friend, there is no need for all this. We must make our move swiftly and without further hesitation.'

The sun shone down through the thick forests to the West of Erebor, the rustling of leaves moving in the wind, the echo of a stream rolling over rocks nearby, the singing of birds and deers grazing across the hills of rolling green.

All the while, Y/N made sure each step she took was as quiet as possible, avoiding any fallen logs or sticks before hunching down.

The stag she had been tracking for quite some time had come to a halt, grazing at the tall grass.

Pushing the single braided parting behind her ear, she quietly grabbed an arrow from the sheath that hung from her shoulder and pulled it taut in the bow that had hung at her side. And with careful, even perfect precision, as the stag raised its head, she let the arrow fly and hit the stag which immediately fell, twitching before going still.

With a sigh of relief and a smile of victory, she rushed over, first making sure that the animal was no longer suffering before pulling the arrow free from its side. Wrapping the animal up carefully, she shrugged it over the back of her horse, Shadow, a black stallion that she had tied to a tree not too far away. Making sure the animal was secure, Y/N took Shadow by the reigns and led him back onto the forest path.

Soon she found herself in familiar sights, turning off onto a small path leading to a small stone cottage by the lakeside surrounded by blooming white daisies. A vegetable patch had been put together at the front, the first signs of growing carrots peaking from beneath the earth, bright strawberries and raspberries sprouting from bushes to Y/N's delight, growing plentifully in the new season.

This was her new home.

She pulled her horse into the small stable which she had recently finished constructing. After removing the saddle and gear she gave Shadow a quick brush down.

'Thank you girlie, you did well today,' She whispered, giving it one last pat before filling up the horse's bucket with some of the freshly picked carrots from earlier that day. She couldn't help but smile as the horse's head disappeared into the bucket immediately, devouring its treat.

With a huff, she picked up the stag and began to carry it to the front of the cottage, only coming to a quick halt at the sight of the door standing ajar. She most definitely locked it before leaving on her hunt.

Immediately she dropped the stag to the ground, pulling her sword from her hip before pushing forward, kicking the door open. With a quick scan of the room, she found nothing amiss, nothing moved - nothing astray.

'My girl put that away!'

She couldn't help the scream that left her, turning to find Gandalf sitting in the armchair by the fireplace which had only moments ago been empty.

'Gandalf! How many times have I told you to inform me of your arrival! You always have some way of frightening me,' She screeched, angrily putting her sword back in its sheath.

'And where is the fun in that Y/N?' The elder chuckled as she brought the stag into the house, placing it in a corner of the room where she butchered her hunt.

Y/N rolled her eyes, unable to help chuckling, moving towards the kitchens putting a kettle on the stove. 'What brings you here Gandalf? Your letters made me think I wouldn't see you for a while!'

She heard him sigh heavily, hearing the creak of the chair as he stood to his feet, 'Well I've travelled quite the ways to see you. From Erebor.'

'Oh?' Y/N said, keeping her back to the wizard, hiding her shock. 'Royal business I'm assuming.'

'Yes, actually having to do with you my dear.'

'With me? What do you mean ––'

The crash of pots broke the heavy silence that followed, having slipped from Y/N's hand. She had turned back to face the wizard, only to see the one dwarf she had hoped not to see again standing behind him. Dressed in his old travelling clothes, familiar from their journey shared together, his hair down and rippling over his shoulders.

Y/N huffed. 'Gandalf ––'

'My dear ––'

'You promised!' She gasped, stepping back into the counter, gripping and digger her nails into it. 'You promised me you would never let him know.'

'I know,' Gandalf said as he stepped up to her, pulling her hands away from the counter into his own, feeling them shake within his hold. 'And I'm sorry. But you know as well as I that you will regret letting him go if you don't at least give him a chance.'

Before the fear over took her he gently placed kiss to her forehead, whispering, 'Be brave, little one, and use the second chance you were blessed with.'

Y/N looked up at Gandalf as he gave her one last smile before leaving her side. After grabbing his staff and hat, he gave Thorin a nod before closing the cottage door behind him.

The silence that ensued was deafening, almost choking the air within the cottage. Y/N's eyes looked everywhere but at Thorin, trying to calm herself.

But Thorin's gaze had never moved from her. It had been so long since he had seen her. The way the sun fell through the window behind her made her shine like a star, and he couldn't help but be mesmerised by her beauty.

'A lovely home you've built Y/N, and all by yourself?'

She glanced towards him, nodding silently, muttering to himself, 'Beautiful.'

As he looked around the room, Y/N took the chance to take him in. She noticed the healed scarring on his face from the war, as well as the cane that he kept at his side putting his weight against it. It seemed he carried more than mere scars from the battle against Azog.

With a sigh, she turned to him, 'Thorin ––'

'If I may speak,' He cut across her quickly. Only when she nodded he moved slowly to her side. 'I understand you ran from Erebor after an incident occurred during my injury.'

'Thorin ––'

'Please Y/N.'

She squeezed her eyes shut, falling silent once more.

'I know why you left. You sought out the one person you knew who would bring you safety and that was yourself. The person you've had to rely on for so many years. I wasn't present in that moment to contend with your fears ... I wish to be someone you could confine in and trust.'

He reached carefully towards her, and when she didn't flinch, he gently caressed her hand. Staring down at this, unable to resist Y/N intertwined their hands together. When she looked up she found Thorin staring past her eyes, his other hand now running across the braid that hid behind her ear still held together by a very familiar bead. His branded bead.

'You still wear it ...'

She smiled. 'Why wouldn't I? Just because I left doesn't mean my heart changed.'

The next few hours flew by. Thorin had helped Y/N skin and prep the stag which she made into a rich stew filled with vegetables from her garden and along with freshly toasted golden bread pulled from the oven. They barely spoke throughout but worked with few words exchanged.

It was after the meal had been devoured, the red wine that Thorin had brought along in his pack was poured and they sat warming by the fireplace that Y/N spoke.

'I know Gandalf already told you most of the story, about my family and all that. I was captured by the orcs and kept under their watch. They enjoyed having a human prisoner for entertainment in their encampment,' She muttered as she fiddled with the dents in her cup. 'But when the fear faded the numbness seeped in and then the anger followed. All I could think about was my family, each of them struck down and for what? Bloodlust? Such a waste ...' 

She lost herself in the flames that climbed across the logs within the fireplace, tears brimming in her eyes. Thorin sighed heavily before placing his hand gently upon hers. Y/N gasped softly at his touch, pulling herself from her thoughts. She squeezed his hand firmly in return. 

'Their faces were ingrained in my mind every day through every lashing, every beating, and every shaming. It fuelled me to do more … to observe, listen and eventually scrape my way to make an escape.'

As silence ensued, Thorin took her in carefully. Her eyes became glazed, lost in the depths of her mind, her memories a prison of pain and destruction. He knew that spiral all too well.

'I lost my younger brother Frerin during the great war against the orcs and Azog. Happened to be the last of the battles that occurred,' He uttered.

Y/N's head shot up in shock. He smiled sadly.

'He had rushed Azog alongside my father. In the tussle, he and his men got separated and pushed back into the woods that circled Moria. It was days later that I found him by the edge of Mirrormere Lake,' His expression became grim, grip tightening around her hand briefly, 'He was face down, eyes gouged, choked on his own blood. I'll never forget the way the blood soaked the earth and stained the waters, the stench of death was .... inescapable. With the weight of my father and brother's death, I was forced to pick up the pieces of my family and people when all I wanted was to kill. To lose myself to darkness and never turn back.'

Thorin's gaze flickered towards the flames within the fireplace. 'I built a wall of stone around my heart because I found that with love comes the greatest price of all. One day we'll lose it, no matter how hard we try we will lose it in some way. That all changed ...'

Y/N's head tilted with curiosity, 'What changed?'

Thorin turned back to her, gulping heavily. 'You came along.'

Y/N couldn't help the gasp that left her lips. He abandoned his cup on the side table to turn his body towards hers, still grasping her hand in his own tightly. 'I know that this scares you Amrâlimê, and to be truthful, I also am frightful. But I just want you to know that not a day goes by where I don't love you and never will stop.'

His words went straight to the pit of her stomach, heat spreading throughout her body like the bowels of a cauldron. Thorin's hand remained in hers, but there was an urgency in the way his fingers tightened around her. Though his eyes have a certain gentleness, there is also something else. A simmering hunger filled with a deep intensity, and before she could say another word, she pushed her lips to his.

Thorin growled against her mouth like a hungry animal satiated yet tempted for more, returning the kiss fiercely and pulling Y/N in close by her hips. Without hesitation, she sat in his lap wrapping her arms around his neck, running her fingertips through his hair.

Clothes are hurriedly stripped away, and when Thorin tosses her tunic aside, he notices the scars that littered Y/N's body, some areas of skin puckered red from the wounds that still healed.

When she noticed his gaze hovering around her body, she couldn't help bringing her arms up to cover herself but he stopped her, grabbing her wrists.

'No don't. You’re a sight to behold, you are ... ethereal,' He muttered, bringing her to stand between his legs, pressing a kiss to her sternum, hands running gently down her back and hips, coming up to caress her breasts. A stuttered gasp left Y/N, head falling back as he pressed kisses upon her breasts, the feeling of his rough hands sending sparks across her body. 

'Oh Thorin,' She breathed, tugging him to his feet before kissing him firmly. His kisses changed, heated, firm and responding with equal fervor. His hands moved below his thighs, lifting her with quick ease before laying her down on the furs before the fireplace.

However, she was quick to roll him onto his back, unable to stop the laugh that escaped her at the brief shock on his face. Thorin was quick to rise and capture her lips once more, smiling against them.

Y/N reached down gripping his cock before sinking down onto him slowly. Both of them gasped against each other's mouths at the sensation, Thorin wrapping his arms around to bring you close, chest to chest, nothing more left between them.

They move together in the throes of passion, hips slapping against one another, sweaty, warm skin, his hands squeezing her hips. She allowed herself to fall against him, forehead pressed to his shoulder as she shuddered in pleasure.

Through the haze, Thorin raised his hips, fucking her deeper, her moans louder before he silenced her with a firm kiss. It's almost too soon that he finds himself strung tight, close to the edge.

She arches against him, chasing the rising tide within her. 'Don’t stop,' she pants, her voice a shaky breathless plea.

Y/N leant forward, hands pressed to his chest, nails digging into his skin as she swiveled her hips harder, Thorin grabbing a handful of your ass. She cries out, eyes rolling back as she collapses against him shakily. He follows quickly behind, burying his cock deep inside her.

In that moment the world faded away, and it was just the two of them. The sounds of heavy breathing and the hiss of fire upon wood filled the air. The broad daylight pouring through the windows had dimmed with the setting of the sun, leaving the room with a peach glow.

Thorin ran his hand through her hair, pushing it away from her face. He kissed her cheek, then down her neck, to her shoulder. She trembled against him, her hands wrapped around his shoulders.

Lifting her face, she met Thorin's gaze to find him already watching her, pressing his forehead against hers.

'Amrâlimê, my dearest, my fierce heart,' He said between kisses which he placed along her face, lifting her chin gently to kiss Y/N's lips gently. 'Mine'

Y/N smiled against the corner of his lips, pressing another firm kiss to his lips. 'Yours.'

​FINAL CHAPTER (At Last) CARE FOR TAG LIST:  @alyhull , @bellastellaluna​ , @sdavid09​ , @aidanturnersass​ , @letsbeinspiredby​ , @hiddenmangaka​ , @female-hux​ , @elia-the-bibliophile​ , @fangirlbitch02​ @nickangel13​ @thatteluguchick​

[enchantingkryptoniteheart-blog]

Best of Intentions - scene snippet. Character relationships and development -

*******

It wasn’t the first time Mistlynn cursed herself for her quick tongue and short temper. She had risen to his bait the night prior.

 The dreams were getting more vivid, more heated with each passing night much to her dismay. She was no longer merely distracted. She had been completely derailed in every sense of the word.

 By. Him.

 And his stupidly handsome face.

 And that insufferable smirk that he seemed to share only in her direction. Damn him.

 The butterflies that erupted in her stomach the moment he walked into that dining room had caught her off-guard, and when his beautiful, keen eyes landed on her, all her good sense had seemed to leave her as well.

 She had no desire to learn how to ride a horse. She was content with Luna. And if she couldn’t ride Luna she was plenty fit to walk. Dale wasn’t that far from the front gates of Erebor.

She was perfectly capable of walking that short distance, thank you very much.

 But she couldn’t let him win, could she? No. She could not abide by it. If she could ride a Dire wolf, of all the creatures on Aule’s green earth, she could ride a gods forsaken horse.

 She walked with her chin held high as they made their way to the stables. Thorin strode next to her, perfectly at ease in his riding leathers. Not an ounce of gold adorned him. It shouldn't drive her to distraction that he didn’t seem to care about dressing like a wealthy king. Not once trace of gold was on him, again. Just a few silver rings that matched the beads that held his braids in place.

Not once, since she had arrived in Erebor did she see him dress in the ostentatious finery she was told they would drip their bodies with from head to toe. That fact shouldn't bother her. But it did. And those infernal butterflies were present once again, making her wish she hadn’t grabbed a pastry from Rosalyn before this little venture. So many life choices she was regretting at this moment.

 “Now, remind me again of what your wager was?” Thorin’s voice startled her back from her inner musings.

 She masked her nervousness with a strategically placed glower. “That I can ride any horse of my choosing within an hour’s time.”

 The slight smirk that was lingering on his face as they walked grew at her peppery tone. He eyes twinkled brightly as he looked down at her, obviously enjoying their little exchange this early in the morning.

 “Ah yes. I am quite eager to see if you will bully the poor horse as you did my unfortunate soldiers.”

 “Unfortunate indeed. I am sure the horses sense of esteem will remain more intact than the pride of your dwarrows.” She chirped.

 The sound of his deep chuckle made those meddlesome butterflies scatter. Her nostrils flared as she took a deep breath in. 

 “Perhaps we will find you something more suitable to ride when you find your pride planted in the dirt.” His tone was playful as he leaned in a little closer, so that he was looking down at her over his shoulder.

 “Aye, and when the horse bests ye I am sure a way more suitable ride can be found, of that I am certain.” A rugged drawl came up from behind them.

Mistlynn was already flustered by Thorin’s teasing and knowing that the imposing Captain overheard their jests made her fight to conceal the blush blooming across her chest heat rapidly and flush up to her cheeks.

 She knew they could see it, and she loathed them for it. The infernal butterflies reveled in it.

 Thorin rolled his eyes at Dwalin’s teasing before giving his friend a pointed look. Mistlynn let out an indignant huff and continued to walk on, her back ramrod straight, chin held with a renewed determination.

 “Did I do something to you in another life? I was having a perfectly fine conversation before you butted your ugly mug in.” Thorin grumbled under his breath as they watched Mistlynn’s petite form storm off towards the horse paddocks.

 “You’ve done aplenty to me in this life. This is the first and only time I have had the pleasure of goading your One. I have waited so long.” Dwalin smirked mischievously.

 “In that case, maybe I should go visit that bonnie little dam whose bakery you started to frequent so much? I’ve had a real sweet tooth lately, as have you I’ve noticed.” Thorin grinned wickedly as he watched Dwalin’s left eye twitch subtly at the jab.

 “Do you not have anything else better to do with your time, like being a King and ruling your kingdom perchance?” They began to walk again, following after Mistlynn.

 “Of course I do, that’s why I have Nori as my spymaster. He comes in really handy. It’s almost like I have eyes and ears everywhere.”

 “Yer a menace.” Dwalin growled good naturedly. “Who put you in charge?”

 Thorin sighed as he watched Mistlynn look around in poorly concealed horror when she realized how many had gathered around the paddocks. It was apparent their exchange the night prior did not go unnoticed or unheard, and everyone was eager to see how the wager played out.

 “I ask myself that every day. Things were so much easier when I was just a blacksmith.”

 “Ye were never meant to be just a blacksmith. Ye were meant to be here, to save her, and rule your kingdom together.”

 “She doesn’t seem eager to do anything together, with me especially.” Thorin grumbled. “The only thing I seem to draw from her is irritation.”

 Dwalin laughed, “Do not fret, there is far more than that below all of that spitfire.”

 As they approached, Mistlynn whirled on them, her eyes flashing with anger. “You seriously invited everyone to watch? This was a wager between you and me!”

 “Maybe you shouldn't be making such a show at dinner time.” An excited Bofur called from his perch up on the fencing. “Especially after that little show you gave us yesterday.”

 “I have never been more entertained.” Fili grinned winningly at her as he winked.

 “Or wealthier.” Kili chimed in as he nodded towards where Ori was scribbling down everyone’s wagers. “It drew him forth from the depths and into the light of profitable gains.”

 “Are you not all wealthy already?” Mistlynn folded her arms across her chest as she gave each one a pointed look.

 “Oh, to be sure.” Nori chuckled. “But where is the fun in just sitting on it. Besides, I have some gold I have to win back.”

 Mistlynn blinked before letting out a frustrated sigh. “Of course you do.”

 “Now now lass. Dont keep us in suspense.” Gloin chortled as Thorin and Dwalin walked up and joined everyone leaning against the fence. “Pick one.”

 Mistlynn sniffed, her nose twitching as she looked ahead of them and into the grazing horses. They didn’t seem threatening or wild. Whispers of excitement and knowing chuckles trickled on the wind around her as she studied each horse. She didn’t want anything too easy. They all seemed so docile and tame.

How could she garner their respect by riding a meek creature that lived for nothing but to graze and soak in the sunlight.

 A loud neigh carried over to her on the morning breeze, and a flash of white caught her eye from the paddock across from them. In that paddock, a lone horse of the purest white galloped and tossed its head in what seemed to be some sort of revelry. 

A smile teased her lips as she watched the magnificent creature. Her blood began to hum in excitement.

 Perfect.

 She snapped her fingers and pointed, confidence exuding from her at her choice. “That one.”

 The smile that had been on Thorin’s face disappeared as her choice registered. All conversation ceased as everyone looked over to the white horse. Stunned.

 “Of course she would pick that she devil.” Dwalin muttered aloud.

 “She’s perfect.” Mistlynn grinned from ear to ear.

 “Absolutely not.” Thorin growled. “Pick from this paddock.”

 “You mock me, my Lord.’ Mistlynn looked at him testily. “All these horses seem to be interested in anything else but riding.’

 “Oh, he isnt mocking.” Fili laughed nervously. “They are tame. That one…is a bit more fiesty.”

 Mistlynn watched as a grey mare meandered up to the water trough and drank deeply, without a care in the world.

 “That one will do nicely.” Thorin nodded towards the grey mare.

Mistlynn ground her teeth together. “That one looks near death.” She glowered.

 Dwalin scoffed as Thorin returned her glower with a challenging look. “You will be on deaths door if you ride that white beast.”

 “Then why own such an animal if you cannot ride it?” She challenged.

“The only one who hasn’t been thrown by her is Thorin.” Kili grimaced.

 “Perfect. If he can ride her, then so shall I.”

 Fili elbowed Kili while Thorin sent his nephew a silencing glare. “What? Im trying to discourage her not encourage her. Everyone knows Thorin is the better rider here.”

 “Not. Helping.’ Fili groaned as they all watched Mistlynn set her shoulders back in determination.

 “Lad, you have only courted an elf maiden and it shows.” Gloin shook his head. “She’s a dam for Mahal’s sake.”

 “SHE is standing right here, and SHE is going to go ride that horse. And you, my liege, are going to step aside and let me.” Mistlynn gave each wide eyed dwarrow a pointed look before she sidestepped Thorin and began to walk towards the other paddock.

 “You're going to break your bleeding neck, you obstinate creature.” Thorin growled as he stormed after her.

 “Watch me.” Mistlynn singsonged. The white mare had stopped running the length of her paddock and was now watching her from the middle. “She’s stunning.” She smiled as she looked at her through the space of the fencing.

 She moved to put her foot through the lower section of the fence, but a hand hit the railing by her head. “I forbid it. You will choose another horse.” The low rumble of his voice made the hair on the back of her neck rise as a smirk turned the corner of her mouth upwards.

 A soft, curious nicker made them both look into the paddock. The white mare had come closer, curiosity evident in her large brown eyes. Mistlynn’s smirk widened into an outright grin. “Oh, imagine that? She likes me.” She quickly ducked under the fence and stood slowly on the other side, so that she was looking at the creature head on.

 Thorin grit his teeth as he watched Mistlynn approach the mare, and slowly bring her hand to the horses head. She pet her softly, and the mare appeared to accept it.

 “If she is able to ride that mare, I will eat my own boot.” Dwalin grumbled as he approached with everyone else, all eyes transfixed on Mistlynn and the white mare.

 “I’ll take that bet.” Kili snickered.

 “This is not funny. This is serious.” Thorin growled, not once taking his eyes off of Mistlynn as she continued to pet the mare and speak to her softly.

 “She didn’t even let you do that when you first approached her.” Fili pointed out.

 Bofur chuckled softly. “Are you talking about the mare or our warrior princess lad?”

 “Quiet all of you.” Thorin hissed. “Just because she is letting her pet her doesn’t mean anything.”

 “If she is able to ride that bloody horse I will never let you live it down.” Dwalin began to snicker as he watched Mistlynn grab ahold of the reins.

 “Oi Mist! Are you sure of which end your supposed to get on?” Kili waggled his eyebrows as he grinned.

Mistlynn flipped him a rude gesture as she gave him a sarcastic smirk. Raucous laughter erupted from the group of friends before they quieted down into low snickers to not spook the horse.

 She jumped onto the back of the mare, her hands tight on the white mane as the powerful animal bolted. Mistlynn’s eyes narrowed, jaw clenched as she focused on hanging on to the beast beneath her. She managed to hold on for a few moments before she was bucked off, somersaulting over the front of the mare and onto the flat of her back as the horse whinnied and galloped off to the other side of the ring. Mistlynn sucked in a sharp breath as she fought to refill her lungs.

 Thorin vaulted himself over the railing at lightning speed before anyone else could react and rushed to her side, his eyes stormy and wide with panic as he skidded to his knees and knelt beside her.

 “M’eudail! Are you ok?” His eyes scanned her dust covered body in concern as she groaned and shifted before pushing herself up.

She coughed and let out a little squeak of a groan. “I’m perfectly fine. Just dazed.” She managed to wheeze. She looked up at him as she gasped in air greedily and was taken aback by the worried expression on his face.

“Sar em gabura[AA1] .” He growled as the worry in his eyes morphed into anger. “You’ve proven nothing but how foolish you are. You are done.”

 Her affronted laugh rattled as she coughed. “Done, am I? Who are you to tell me I am done?” She pushed herself up to her feet, gritting her teeth as her sore muscles protested the movement. “You're not my keeper, MY Lord. So kindly step aside and let me finish this.”

 Thorin’s jaw clenched, his teeth grinding painfully as he watched her go back over to the mare, holding her hands up again to calm the wary creature.

She clapped her hands and motioned for the mare to bolt again. She had to gain the mare’s trust; she knew this. Not forcefully seize it from the creature. She had Luna’s trust since she had raised her from a young pup. This creature owed her nothing. She had often watched Argo’s with their livestock, and when it came to their reindeer, she figured the same principle could be applied. Horses were more agile and fast, but their eyes held the same intelligence.

 

Thorin walked back to the paddock fence and leaned his back against it, his arms crossed across his chest in agitation. He watched her chase the mare in the opposite direction again. She shouted and clapped her hands loudly and herded the horse skillfully, much to his surprise.

 “She handled that tumble well.” Gloin muttered to no one in particular as they watched her work with the mare tirelessly.

 “She’s a little spitfire, I’ll give her that.” Nori chuckled. “You saw how she handled the soldiers yesterday. “

 “Mighty mouse.” Kili chuckled. “I think that’s the perfect description.

 “Don’t let her catch you calling her that, she will steal the dagger from your belt and take your tongue with it.” Fili scoffed.

 Dwalin rested his forearms on the fence next to Thorin and let out a humored grunt. “Ye have your work set out for ye.”

 Thorin’s scowl deepened, his gaze not leaving Mistlynn once as she continued to move about the paddock and work with the fiery mare. He didn’t feel the need to respond to Dwalin’s comment, he knew there was no use in convincing his closest friend otherwise.

 

The minutes passed quickly as Mistlynn worked. She was nearing the hour mark and felt herself losing patience with the beautiful snow-white mare. She wanted to be able to ride her, but she seemed to be just as stubborn and unwilling to be tamed, much like herself. She couldn’t begrudge the magnificent animal that.

 Argo’s had made this all look so easy. Animals had been drawn to him, as if he could speak to them with his eyes and body language alone. She felt her heart twinge at the thought of her little brother. He would have been riding the mare at this point, he wouldn’t have ruined his chances by jumping on her back. He would have made sure to win her trust first.

 She had been too focused on winning the wager with the infuriating Dwarrow who seemed to do nothing but rile her up with a mere smirk and skillfully directed jab. He was now truly under her skin.

 She stopped in the center of the paddock and watched the mare continue to gallop circles around her. She let her shoulders sag, a small sign of defeat as she turned to face her audience that had grown quiet as the minutes bled into an hour. She let out an exasperated breath as she placed her hands on her hips and looked up at Thorin. He was still in the paddock with her, leaning against the wooden slats with his broad shoulders, arms and legs crossed as if he didn’t have a care in the world at that moment as he watched her fail.

 That was a difficult realization for her to swallow, the desire to impress him had surged upwards into her throat, nearly choking her while stealing the air from her lungs. She had never experienced this sudden need to impress a male that was not kin to her, and that made her skin tingle as if she were blushing.  Her throat bobbed as she attempted to gain her voice back.

“You’ve won your wager, my Lord.” Her voice was clipped as she forced herself to look up at him to meet his piercing gaze.

 Thorin’s eyebrows raised slowly, a corner of his mouth twisting up in a half smirk. Dwalin scoffed and shook his head, mumbling something under his breath while everyone else seemed to share looks of intrigue and respect.

 Thorin cocked his head to the side as he chuckled. “I think it would be fair we called it a draw.”

 She blinked in confusion at his response, but before she could question him about it she heard the sound of hoofs approaching her from behind. She felt a soft huff of breath on her shoulder before a soft knicker tickled her ear. She held her breath in surprise as the mare came up behind her, gently nudging her shoulder with its head before draping its neck over her shoulder.

 Mistlynn slowly turned her head to look at the mare in awe. She raised a hand up slowly and placed it upon the forehead to trace the soft fur underneath the long mane that hung over the soft earth brown eyes that peered at her. For the first time since Luna, she felt a connection. And she began to understand the draw to ride such a powerful creature that was meant to run. She wasn’t a predator built to pursue its prey, but an animal that was made to chase the wind.

 [AA1]Dammit it! (May it melt) -

******

Taglist-

@fizzyxcustard @mrsdurin

[moonshine-nightlight]

Nothing's Wrong with Dale - Part Twenty-Five

It’s been a week, but you’re fairly certain your fiancé accidentally got himself replaced by an eldritch being from the Depths. Deciding  that he’s certainly not worse than your original fiancé, you endeavor to keep the engagement and his new non-human state to yourself.

However, this might prove harder than you originally thought.

Fantasy, arranged marriage, malemonsterxfemalereader, M/F

AO3: Nothing's Wrong with Dale Chapter 25

[Part One][Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Part Five] [Part Six] [Part Seven] [Part Seven.5] [Part Eight] [Part Nine][Part Ten] [Part Eleven] [Part Twelve]  [Part Thirteen] [Part Fourteen] [Part Fifteen] [Part Sixteen] [Part Seventeen] [Part Eighteen] [Part Nineteen] [Part Twenty] [Part Twenty-One] [Part Twenty-Two][Part Twenty-Three] [Part Twenty-Four] Part Twenty-Five [Part Twenty-Six] [Part Twenty-Seven] [Part Twenty-Eight] [Part Twenty-Nine] [Part Thirty] [Part Thirty-One] [Part Thirty-Two] [Part Thirty-Three] [Part Thirty-Four]

You’d thought the galas had been uncomfortable, but apparently they are nothing compared to the three Northridges in an argument.

You’re all in the study Grandmother’s been lent for your stay, Dale and yourself at a table with Dale’s paperwork spread out around him while Grandfather paces having long vacated his own chair. You wish you could occupy yourself by reading his notes, but they’re in a shorthand code you don’t know. Probably for the best for secrecy purposes, but unhelpful as a distraction. You wonder if Dale will teach it to you once you have the time.

“Unacceptable,” Grandmother says, frowning at Dale. You think it’s the sternest she’s ever looked at him given her usual soft spot for her grandson. “Pride is no excuse not to use every advantage at your disposal to locate these enemies.”

“Unnecessary,” Dale corrects. He presses his lips together before he forces himself to take a deep breath. You appreciate how he keeps his frustration contained, his eyes trained on his notes and waiting to respond when the original Dale would not have. You want to comfort or show your support for him, but you’ve no idea how. So you keep your hands clasped in your lap and hope that when the moment comes for you to assist, you notice it. “All the combatants were defeated; we need to focus on who paid them. I doubt any of the true architects behind the attack would be found out by exorcists. Such people would only be useful at locating the mercenaries.”

“You cannot be certain that the skinwere is truly vanquished,” Grandfather insists, not pausing in his pacing.

It’s challenging to know when you should speak up and when you should keep silent in this argument, particularly when it is not yet your family. Your inclination during verbal fights is nearly always to remain silent. Your eyes dart to Dale, whose expression does not give away that he is by far the most knowledgeable regarding whether or not he has killed a demon or merely removed a possession. Unfortunately, that would not be a helpful interjection.

Grandfather continues, “It might have simply returned to the Depths. What will you do if it returns? In a new body, it will already know your strength and will be more prepared. It will have all the knowledge it gained prior to the attack. It could take you by surprise. An exorcist—”

“Is unnecessary,” Dale repeats. He finally looks up from his papers to meet first Grandfather’s and then Grandmother’s eyes in turn. “I know that it is vanquished. An exorcist will only waste money to confirm the same thing. Many of them are charlatans regardless, no more able to identify and banish a demon than anyone else and only able to part the gullible from their coin.”

“I know plenty of competent and qualified exorcists, Dale,” Grandmother’s tone is arch, clearly not thrown off by Dale’s rebuttal. “The persistence of the demonic is not to be underestimated.”

“We have been dealing with these threats longer than you have, my boy,” Grandfather says, a paternal and condescending tone to his voice. “We have the experience. We have the contacts. We should be leading this investigation and yet you are willfully keeping vital information to yourself.” 

“Yes, and I shall continue to do so,” Dale replies, eyes back on his papers while you resist the urge to fidget under Grandfather’s intent and frustrated gaze. He had shared some of the information he learned about the employers of the mercenaries from his separate, second fight with Two with you, but nothing with his grandparents beyond his confirmation of Two’s defeat. You’re not sure that his grandparents realize he’s told you even a word or two more than them and are not sure if you even want them to find out. “I was the target of this threat and I shall be the one to see it ended.”

“Now is not the time to act too big for your britches,” Grandfather snaps.

“If this is a bid for maturity, for lordship, it is misplaced,” Grandmother’s voice is clearer and sharper. “Only the childish attempt to do things in isolation, mired in a false sense of independence, in pride, in hubris. There is no need to prove yourself, Dale,” her voice gentles here, at the end. It is interesting to hear them make points that would be valid, if only they were aimed at their grandson and not the present Dale. They don’t know they are arguing against a stranger, that their words are aimed at a ghost. “There is nothing to prove. There are only enemies of Northridge to deal with, with everything we have at our disposal.”

You wonder how the original Dale would have handled this argument, if he even decided to have it. The point might have been moot given how much this Dale needed to draw on his nature to win it. Maybe instead you and his grandparents would have been here, reading a ransom note. Maybe you or grandmother would not have survived the night.

“You expect us to trust your judgment,” Grandfather says, strain in his voice as he attempts to rein himself in, “but there are actions that speak against such rational thought. I still cannot believe the utter foolishness that you demonstrated, chasing after one into the night. Do you know how many of those demons have powers over darkness?”

You look down at the papers on the table, just in case your eyes or expression otherwise give away how ironic you find that statement. Picturing Dale’s control over shadows and darkness  brings back memories of the fight. It also brings up memories of the dream you had last night. The dream’s images conjured to your mind by the sight of this new Dale, with his humanity an obvious after thought, to be contemplated while asleep. Darkness poured over the estimate of the human form, his bright eyes, the strength and speed he possessed in those moments.

You feel your cheeks heat at how the dream had diverted from the memory it began by rehashing. Of how it was routed in the manner of his hand on your chin after the fight had ended. In your dreams, his grip had once more been delicate silk over wrought iron strength. He had done more than look as he checked you were whole. His voice had that same reverberation of feeling and affection you heard near the end of the fight, when your name on his lips had evoked such emotion. 

“I was not acting out of immature pride or foolishness then and neither am I now,” Dale replies, snapping you back to the present. His jaw is set as he puts his pen down to give them his full attention. “I am acting as I see fit, based on the circumstances at hand. I had received the training required and the knowledge to hold my own in such a fight. I had observed my opponent and knew the limits of his capabilities as well as my own.” 

Dale’s confidence in the fight, even more so than in the tournament, had been obvious. Even now it was a comfort to you, to know how strong he truly was. This Dale’s strength is an asset, not the concern it had been originally. You still might have advised him to include his grandparents, if you didn’t know what you knew and how dangerous such a thing could be to him now. He must be walking the line between those who know who hired the mercenaries and those who can tell what he is very carefully indeed.

“My estimation was correct as I returned and they did not. It was not luck or coincidence and I’ll not discuss in maybes,” Dale adds at the end when it was clear Grandfather was going to add something more. “We are already here, now, and we are not discussing the actions already taken, but those yet to occur.” 

Dale clears his throat and shifts in his chair before continuing when neither of his grandparents spoke, allowing him the time to do so, despite their misgivings. It was interesting to watch, and unlike many such discussions in your family, but perhaps the circumstances that were different here resulted in the older relatives not simply talking over the younger ones. “Those circumstances are clear: the attack was directed at me personally, the attack was a coordinated effort of fellow nobility, and they did not see Northridge as capable of defending herself from such threats. I have corrected them on the final point. They will be unprepared for such an eventuality and will need time to re-group and plan, as well as raise funds due to the amount paid in advance to the assassins. They will see the wedding as too distracting to us to move quickly now, which I am also subverting.”

“Most likely, they don’t even know that the assassins have failed,” you chime in with a glance at Dale, glad to have thought of something to add. Some of this you’d discussed with Dale the other night while you and the doctor bandaged him up. Unfortunately, since you’d been joined in the dressing room by the doctor and Dale’s valet, you’d not been able to continue your more private conversation. Since then, the only time you’ve been alone, have been short walks between meetings which has been the time to discuss much at all. “From what we overheard, it is unlikely that they had other team members. It will take time for their lack of communication and lack of success to reach their patrons—who might even think they simply took the money paid upfront and then left, if we’ve managed to keep word of the attack properly stifled. That confusion and uncertainty is something we can take advantage of as long as we are subtle.”

Dale is clearly trying for patience, but he’s also frustrated when his grandparents don’t seem particularly persuaded by these arguments. “We all agreed that keeping the news of this attack as quiet as possible and painting it as a minor event was for the best. Have either of you changed your minds regarding that decision?”

“No, of course not,” Grandmother replies, frowning. 

She tries to continue speaking, but Dale continues instead, “Your primary resources are the full might of the law and those at your disposal in Northridge, your contacts in the realm of the law throughout the country and beyond, and your prior experience dealing with similar attacks during the height of your senate career.” Dale is exclusively addressing Grandmother at this point. “The majority of those resources would require bringing in a great deal more people and would undermine our decision to keep this attack quiet.”

“And my experience?” Grandmother asks, arching a brow.

“Which I have listened to extensively over the years,” Dale says, a mild tone of long-suffering grandchild in his voice, likely a mix of the original Dale’s familial condescension and his own exasperation given his personal greater experience. “As well as in the past few days as you recounted more details that had been omitted from the stories you told in my youth. If there is anything further you wish to share, please do so. However, throughout your tales, you worked exclusively with a small network of those loyal to you and involved only Grandfather in our family.” The implication that this is what Dale was doing by excluding them and including you was obvious.

“That is no reason not to share your strategy with us, Dale,” Grandmother says, disapprovingly. “My parents were unable to provide helpful advice in this arena, not in the manner your Grandfather and I can. I cannot recount every detail of every experience I have had. Sometimes the smallest details are most relevant and yet do not come to mind until the moment of connection is made. I cannot provide such insight if I am blinded.”

“I appreciate that,” Dale replies. “But the danger posed by making you a target, is greater in my mind than the value of that minute insight might afford. If I were struggling on my path of discovery and response, I would agree share further, but I am not.”

“And what of my resources?” Grandfather is agitated by Grandmother’s considering silence and at being ignored.

“My understanding of those you have at your disposal are primarily contacts for exorcists, demon hunters, mercenaries. Additionally, given the speed at which such lives are lost and won, I expect many are outdated. I mean no offense, but, you last actively utilized them over a decade ago. I think you certainly have solid relationships you could pull on that would steer you in the right direction to active members far quicker than the average person. But that it would still take time. And they are not who we need at this time. The assassins are all dealt with, I do not believe new individuals will be contracted with soon, and so the patrons are my focus.”

“I have contacts among the peers,” Grandfather says defensively. “Many who might have heard of who would use such an underhanded move such as this or who could discover such tactics. I am not so far removed from the game.”

“And this is the crux of the matter, is it not?” Dale’s frowning and for the first time in a long time, he reminds you of the old Dale. Your heart races with anxiety over his disapproval, even if it’s aimed at his grandparents and not you. You’d forgotten how much he’d made you nervous in the beginning, perhaps because this Dale makes you nervous too, but the difference in why has never been more stark. 

This Dale worries you because of how much you still don’t know about him, about what he wants and what he plans. The conversation you were hoping to have that night never occurred, your time together interrupted by servants and doctors and Grandfather. You haven’t been alone since, except for short spans in the halls, where anyone might overhear and so you are both careful to remain vague. The lack of clear communication has become a larger and larger source of frustration for you. Sometimes he makes you feel as if there is more at stake because you believe there is more to gain from his partnership.

That Dale had worried you because of what you did know of him, rather than how each new hint you discern for this Dale reassures you. The original Dale, his arrogance, his moods, his overconfidence, his heavy handed assumptions, and his temper—his clear ability to hold grudges—all caused worry and nervousness to creep through your veins. 

And in the split second Dale reminds you all that, he also helps wash it away. Because it is so clear, that while he’s frustrated and displeased with this conversation, obviously tense from the subject and the line he has to walk regarding what he knows and needs to do with his grandparents, you are not afraid. Not of him.

 He takes a deep breath, his stare intense, but his jaw unclenched, his hand open on the table. “I also have such contacts,” Dale points out. “Fresh contacts from my travels and time in court. I am the one who moved directly in these circles that the ones targeted me have come from. I am the one most able to deal with this threat. You must know that, even if it worries you.”

Grandmother frowns, but doesn’t look away. “I cannot approve of you keeping us out of this investigation, especially given my involvement already, but I do understand why you wish to, however much I wish I did not. None of my fears lie with your capabilities, my Dale.”

“I know,” Dale replies, leaning back in his chair. His arm moves to the armrest and the back of his hand brushes against your own, just a touch too strongly to not be deliberate. You startle a little at the pressure, enough that Dale retreats, his fingers curving around the end of the arm rest. You hasten to correct yourself, not able to explain that you were surprised, nothing more. Carefully, you place your hand on his forearm, fingers loosely wrapping around his wrist and giving a, hopefully, comforting squeeze. A reminder he’s not alone.

He continues to look at Grandmother, but he turns his arm over and you slide your hand into his. It's grounding in the same way your embrace had been and you’re all too pleased to be able to do so now. “However, I believe it to be the right move, the one with that will grant the greatest chance of success with the least complications. And I will stand by it.”

You look over to Grandmother and find her staring at your joined hands. Your instinct is to let go, like a child caught doing something naughty, but while your hand spasms, you’re able to calm your racing heart and keep your hold on Dale.

Grandfather opens his mouth with a frown, but Grandmother cuts him off, “Very well. We will let you handle this, for now. If another attack occurs, we will not be kept to the sidelines.”

“Understood,” Dale replies, but you can feel his relief in how his hand relaxes in your own.

“And the moment you believe that you can use our help, you must promise to ask for it,” Grandmother continues, not looking away to Grandfather who’s come to stand beside her.

Dale nods, but she continues to wait and you give him a look. He blinks in surprise before realizing what she wants. “I promise that if I believe further aid from you would be warranted, I will ask for it.”

“See that you do,” Grandmother says before her demeanor lightens, her smile nostalgic as she says, “You have grown so much, my boy.”

Dale looks startled. This time his hand twitches in yours. It's clear he has no idea what to say and so he merely nods, looking back down at his papers. He tries for casual as he replies, “Yes, well, that is what tends to happen.”

Grandmother’s smile only widens and Dale reaches with his free hand to straighten the papers. Something written catches his attention, though you’ve no idea what given his shorthand code. “Actually, I was hoping to get your opinions on one part of my investigation.”

“Of course,” Grandfather says gruffly, still obviously displeased with the turn the conversation took, but not enough to disagree with Grandmother.

“I would appreciate your impressions of the two primary candidates I have for one of the patrons,” Dale says after a glance at you. When you walked over with him to the study and discussed this part of the conversation. You shared your impression of three primary patrons, which he confirmed having received the same information from Two: the Duke, the knight, and the heiress. You have no thoughts on two of them but you did express your suspicion of the knight from Eastmont, due to both his animosity and his knowledge of demonics, which Dale agreed with.

Dale seemed to have his own suspicions about the heiress, but the Duke, he’d only been able to narrow down to a short list. Hopefully, not only would Grandmother and Grandfather be able to advise on who to look at first, but also should mollify them regarding Dale more or less shutting them out of the rest of the investigation and action he planned to take against these conspirators.

“He was referred to as ‘the Duke’, which I believe to be literal,” Dale says. “Between that and the reference to gambling, I suspect either Duke Gaelole or Duke Karihas. Both I played at cards and won substantial amounts from, though of course no cheating was needed on my part.”

Grandmother cackled. “I taught you too well, sweetheart. I am also surprised that those two are still playing as they did.”

You’ve only heard these names and not had any personal interaction with either of them. It begins to get harder to follow certain family connections, when not bragged about, and so it's possible you went to school with a grandchild of one of them. That’s likely the only connection you could have had, sheltered as you had grown up.

“Duke Karihas,” Grandfather rubs his chin as he speaks. “He is arrogant, too fond of the drink and I can only guess, more susceptible to it than before. However, it is not his style to hold grudges. His memories tend to fade quickly with time, no matter the size of his losses. His children fund such vices these days as he still breaks even more often than not. Duke Gaelole on the other hand…”

“He plays the gallant and generous lord, but in truth, he would gut his own grandson in an alley over disrespect or a lost bet,” Grandmother pronounced. “He plays the amiable host, the graceful loser on those rare occasions he loses, but he is cold as a fish and as ruthless as a demon.”

“I had thought, even though the loss was smaller, that he might be the true enemy,” Dale admits, the frown deepening on his face. “There were repeated losses and he grew both more charming and more insistent as time wore on for rematches. There was a look in his eyes when I finally refused to play anymore hands and collected my winnings. A dangerous one.” 

You wonder how the original Dale’s memories appear to him now. You wonder how he grew to learn how to read human expressions. You hope this Dale isn’t inclined to gamble, no matter what skills Dale used to possess. You feel now is not the time to bring such a matter up, but you feel buoyed that you likely will try to discuss it with him, because you feel you can.

“He’s got deep pockets, Dale,” Grandfather warned. “And he does not hesitate to dip into them as he pleases. He’s notorious for holding grudges and acting on them. Notable careers ended or reputations ruined, if he so desired. Tread very carefully with him.”

“I understand,” Dale replies gravely. He looks back and forth between them. “All I ask is that you allow me to take the lead on this matter and to trust that if I can use your assistance, I will ask for it. I know you would wish to do the same. Trust I would not put my faith in empty pride if I truly did not feel I had the resources required to bring these enemies of our family to rest.”

“I do not like this,” Grandfather says. “I do not think it is necessary.” His shoulders slump, ever so slightly, “But I would do the same, and have done so in the past.”

“You have a year or until another attack,” Grandmother warns, “before we act, with or without your leave. It is only in consideration of your determination and persuasion that I allow you this freedom to deal with the threat as you will.” Unexpectedly, her eyes find yours, “And I also trust that you are not conducting your investigation alone. That you are involving your soon to be spouse as well. 

“Yes, Grandmother,” Dale replies dutifully, you echoing him only a beat behind. He smiles at you in response, resting his hand over your own and giving it a comforting squeeze.

“Pardon my intrusion, my lords, my ladies.” You turn to see Grandfather’s valet opening the door to come in. “In addition to alerting you that it is time to begin preparing for this afternoon’s gala, I also have a letter.”

“Our thanks for the reminder,” Grandfather says. “Who is the letter for?”

His valet walks over to you, rather than any Northridges. “It is addressed to the family, but to my lady’s attention.”

You accept the letter, frowning at the handwriting of the address. It doesn’t look familiar and you’re not expecting any mail. Are you? After these past couple days, anything unexpected makes you nervous. You quickly break the plain seal, wanting to get past this new tension as soon as possible. The message inside is short and in a hand you do recognize. “Oh.”

“What is it?” Dale asks, leaning closer and clearly as on edge as you had been. “Is something amiss?”

“Oh, nothing like that. My family has arrived.” You don’t know why the thought is so foreign, so disconcerting. And yet everything that has happened in these whirlwind days seems so far removed from your life before Northridge, that your family seems like an unexpected intrusion. You knew that they had to be arriving before the wedding ceremony, but Mother had said travel was more unpredictable than she’d expected and hadn’t been able to provide an estimate for their arrival. “They will be joining us at the gala tonight.”

[Part Twenty-Six]

[mercysought]

❝ there's one thing i know in my bones. there is no force in this world that can control you. ❞ - dealer’s choice

arcane season 2 // @hoboblaidd // accepting

There is much that we have forgotten. I have come to accept that, one way or another, we - the dalish - are not the last of the elvhenan. How could we ever be if such a place (A place for Our People) was broken so long ago? I think a lot about something I was told, upon first discovering that some of the People still walked and protected those same spaces that we had tried so hard to recover.

They never sought us out, they knew were lived in forests and in Clans and yet simply watched on, thinking of us like Shadows wearing vallas'lin. Shattered pieces of a past that had once been their present.

Despite the oath at the Dales, the reality is that whatever empire the elvhen once had - it is not something we can recover; nor should we. I have had enough time to think about it and, truthfully, while I believe the vallas'lin no longer carry the meaning of old, if I were to be asked once more, I wouldn't be able to carry it, to keep it. Not after learning what I have. It is an uphill battle that every dalish person will have to reckon with: to preserve the past and poison the future, to remember what has happened with nuance of knowing how fickle memory can be.

Or perhaps, to allow ourselves the nuance and the grace that comes from change. In the end, however, it should still be each of that Dalish person's choice: To keep it with its changed, new meaning, with a shameful past but a brighter life. Or to leave it behind and allow memory to destroy it too.

The Vallas'lin were markings with which the Evanuris branded their slaves, both high and low. But they are no longer. The Evanuris are dead and we are not.

   "You came here to help, Solas. I won’t let them use that against you." She had said, almost in disbelief when he had spoken almost as if he had seriously been considering leaving. This new title, Inquisitor, still felt like a fresh wound against her. Raw and impossibly larger than any life that Asharen had ever known. Solas was the only person that had seemingly cared whether she lived or died regardless of the anchor in her hand. However, this much she knew, understood: Cassandra, Leliana and Cullen, they listened to her. She wasn't sure how far she could push it. But three humans, non mages, listened.    "How would you stop them?" she hears him ask and his eyes are on her. Her brows arch as if she doesn't understand the question. And perhaps she doesn't. How did you defend the younger ones of the clan when you knew templars were marching in the surrounding clan areas? He was bare faced, but so were many in Antiva City, many that had come to her defense too.    "However I had to."

The First Inquisitor of the Chantry's Inquisition was a dalish elf - a mage - who worked alongside humans in Orlais. He died holding another world shattering threat, hoping that would keep the dales safe. It didn't.

It should not surprise me how frequently history repeats itself and yet we stand at the closing of another cycle: I too am dalish, a mage and Inquisitor during the fight against Corypheus. It does not escape my thoughts that this too is likely to be my fate. Even as I write these in the hopes of clearing my mind, I know that one way or another they will likely find themselves in hands that are not mine.

While I know that is outside of my control, my wishes, I instead find myself hoping that while it will be the interest of my title (and, hopefully, name) which will draw eyes to the writing, that it will be its contents and the History within that will keep it being repeated and passed on.

Those who hold the records of History, true or not, are the same that will control the new path the Dalish will take moving forward. The Oath of the Dales has promised that we shall never submit again. We are more than our aravels, our halla, our arlathven. We are more than our oath. We are more than our loss, our grief.

Do not forget the lessons of old, but do not allow them to destroy the joys of the present.

[d1xonss]

Desert Rose

Chapter 24 ~ Good Mourning

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Rose

✧ Era : Season 2

✧ Word Count : 6.1k

In this chapter ~ An unexpected death occurs, leaving everyone heartbroken for the man's fate. However, the group decides to honor his last wishes, leaving Randall alive though they would still take him far away from the others to ensure everyone remained safe. Though it proves to be more difficult than they had planned as the man had seemed to escape. But the whole thing left a pit in Rose's stomach as she couldn't help but form distrust from a certain man whose face was written in suspicion.

After an hour or two had passed and the sun was finally gone, Daryl got up and left, saying he was going to help Rick and Shane take care of Randall before the chance was gone.

But the thing was, I was doing exactly what Dale said we would all be doing, hiding out in the tent in hopes I could forget the events happening just a few hundred feet away from me. Cowering away as if that would ease myself about the situation at all. I had only been sitting there for a few minutes, my leg bouncing from the anxiety and my mind racing at the possible things that could go wrong. Distracting myself with things around the space wasn't helping, in fact it was only driving me more wild if that were even possible.

The book I had originally picked up to read wasn't doing much, none of the words sticking with me as I only seemed to scan the pages with my eyes. My sketchbook wasn't a good option either, not being able to come up with a single new idea to draw as there was a physical cloud towering over my head. It was useless.

Eventually, I couldn't take sitting there any longer by myself, so I got up to my feet and headed outside the tent to take a walk and stretch my legs for a while. I slowly headed in the direction towards the field where Daryl and I had talked just a few moments ago, enjoying the silence and somewhat peaceful night, a few crickets chirping softly in the background.

But I paused suddenly and slowed down when I spotted a figure walking a good distance away from me, only squinting my eyes momentarily to see it was Dale seemingly doing the same thing I was. Taking a walk far from the shed. My steps stopped for a moment as I debated with myself if I should go up to him or not. Would he want to talk to me? Probably not, I had just argued with him over something he was so sure about, and I knew that it hurt him.

So I decided to just leave him be as I turned myself to move in the opposite direction. Though right as I was about to step away, I stopped again when I saw something slowly sneaking up on him from just behind his back. The realization hit me quickly that it was a lone walker and he had yet to hear it and turn around.

I broke out into a sprint without a second thought, getting out one of my knives to throw at it before it could reach him. I wanted to stop and aim at the dead thing, but it was too dark, and I was still too far away, so I just kept running. But the walker was only getting closer, inching its way further before I even had a chance at reaching him. And Dale still hadn't flinched, had hardly moved a muscle as he somehow didn't hear the noise creeping up behind him, and I panicked.

"Dale! Move now!" I yelled at him.

He turned around swiftly upon hearing my voice, his eyes widening once he finally saw the monster, beginning to fumble with the shotgun in his hands to fire. But he wasn't fast enough. The walker landed on top of him in an instant, a gunshot firing not a second later as the man's finger no doubt hovered over the trigger, before he let out a loud and deafening scream. That only made me run faster, pushing myself further even though my lungs started to burn, and my legs wanted to give out. He couldn't die. No way in hell.

He kept screaming in fear and pain as I finally got close enough to throw my knife directly towards the walkers head, just barely striking it towards the right side before it fell limp on top of him immediately. I ran the rest of the way over to him, shoving the body off of him before letting out a gasp of shock at what I saw before me. He was laying flat on his back in excruciating pain, as the walker somehow managed to tear his stomach open to shreds.

How could it have happened so fast? His blood was spilling out and coating his white shirt so quickly and drastically, it was all so hard to comprehend as I couldn't peel my eyes away from him.

My hands instinctively went up to cover my mouth, getting down to his level quickly to try and calm his heavy and panicked breathing. His eyes were wide as he couldn't even speak, the pain being too unbearable to even try. But my head turned around quickly over my shoulder, hearing the others shouting and rushing towards us through the tall grass blindly with flashlights in their hands as they tried to spot us.

"Over here! Guys!" I yelled as I stood back up, waving my hands to flag them down.

Once I saw the flashlights heading closer to us, I knelt down on the ground by Dale's head again, starting to whisper reassuring things to him in the calmest voice I could muster. But even he could tell how hard I was trying, how hard I was pretending that everything was going to be okay.

Daryl was the first one to make it over and he stood over us there in shock for a few seconds before kneeling down right beside me, telling Dale to hang in there.

Then almost everyone seemed to come over all at once. Rick, Shane, Lori, Carl, Glenn, Andrea, and Carol all looked at Dale in horror seeing the state that he was left in. They were all frantic as they stood there with wide eyes, Rick freaking out the most out of everyone as he snapped to the first person he saw.

"Hershel! Get Hershel!" Rick yelled.

Andrea was on Dale's other side in an instant, holding his hand as she sobbed. I felt warm tears start to pool in my eyes as well, looking down at him with nothing but regret forming in my stomach. I should've thrown my knife sooner, but I was too far away. I should've yelled sooner, but he barely heard me to begin with. On instinct, I grabbed Dale's other hand as my tears began to fall and I bowed my head, while Hershel seemed to get here in only a matter of a few minutes. Probably seeing how frantic and panicked Glenn was as he was the one to rush back towards the house.

"What can we do?" Rick asked desperately.

I heard nothing from the older man as he pondered about what to do, but in the back of my mind I already knew the answer. I sighed and gripped his hand tighter, feeling Daryl begin to rub my back from next to me although I could barely feel a thing. Barely hear a thing other than the slight ringing in my ears, the adrenaline beginning to wear off as my hands slightly shook.

"Can we move him?" Rick asked when Hershel didn't respond.

He only shook his head, "He won't make the trip." he muttered.

"We have to do the operation here, Glenn get back to the house!" Rick yelled.

"Rick!" Hershel yelled to get his attention. When I didn't hear him say anything else, I looked back up just in time to see him shaking his head with a sad expression, telling us that there was nothing we could do. Cries began to erupt from all around us as the realization sunk in, knowing what we would have to do next, slowly breaking my heart at just the thought. There were so many things I wanted to say to him, how I wish we could've been closer, or how I wish we hadn't argued as much in the end. How I wished we would've just listened to him and his reasons, instead of this all unfolding instead.

"I'm so sorry Dale, I'm so sorry." I whispered, knowing it was all I could think of to say to him.

He was in so much pain he didn't respond, but he tried his best to form a smile and squeezed my hand in reassurance. Though it didn't last long as he cried out once more at the sensation, tears reforming in the corners of his eyes as he tried not to yell too loudly.

"He's suffering, we have to do something." Andrea pleaded as her gaze snapped back and forth between him and everyone else surrounding the scene.

Rick turned back to us and let out a shaky breath, struggling to take out his gun and aim it at Dale's head. He couldn't bring himself to do it and I understood completely. How could you even prepare for something like this, shooting a man we all cared deeply for just for him to finally be at peace. It was horrible. I then suddenly felt Daryl's hand leave my back as he slowly stood up to walk over towards Rick. He gently took the gun out of his hold with a nod and took his place silently instead, pointing the gun towards his head. Dale started to look up to see what was happening, but I quickly stopped him.

"No, no Dale, look at me. Just look at me." I said as I squeezed his hand again.

His gaze panned over at me, his breathing still heavy and his mouth agape. I didn't want him to be looking at the thing that was about to end his life. I could tell he was thankful for a lot of things in that moment, but most of all I think he was thankful to not have to suffer any longer, and not have to go through it alone. I kept my eyes on him the whole time, not being able to look away.

"Sorry brother." I heard Daryl say, a single gunshot following only seconds later.

His hand fell limp in mine in a split second and couldn't help the heavy breath that passed my lips as I ducked my head back down towards the ground. A part of me was grateful that he didn't have to suffer anymore, not just now, but in this world. He wouldn't have to fear anything ever again. He was at peace.

But that didn't make it any less painful for the rest of us. Gathering the strength to pick my head back up, I glanced back to them, seeing the broken and guilty looks on their faces, all of us having a moment of silence for the man we all grew to care about.

After witnessing the many depressing events, it only caused a very long and restless night. I couldn't fall asleep, whenever I closed my eyes all I could see was Dale suffering and screaming. Replaying over and over again in my mind. It was horrible, traumatizing for us all to watch him slowly pass, leaving only the burning image behind our eyelids. Daryl couldn't seem to fall asleep either with the way he constantly moved, and I couldn't even imagine how he was feeling. Being the one to put Dale down himself, it was surely weighing him down more than he let on.

We didn't say anything the whole night, though we both knew the other was awake. We just simply laid there huddled close to one another, listening to the calmness of the night. Both of us seemed to have a mutual understanding that we didn't feel like talking. We were just simply there for each other in silence, and right now that's all we needed.

But the next morning seemed even harder. That's when we had the ceremony for Dale, and all of us gathered around to listen and mourn the loss of someone else. It seemed like just a few days ago we were in the same small circle, gathered around for Sophia as we said our final goodbye. Now having to do it all over again in such a short span of time, it was a lot.

I tried my hardest to listen to Rick's words as he spoke about him but I couldn't seem to stay focused, spacing in and out, letting my mind wander while the guilt slowly ate away at me. I knew I shouldn't keep blaming myself for the losses we seemed to take, but how could I not? How could I not when I always felt like I could've done more.

The only thing I managed to hear Rick say is that we would honor Dale, and prove that this group isn't broken. I had a feeling I knew what he meant by that without him having to say anything else. Randall was going to live. At this point I didn't really care what we did with him anymore because of how much had happened. How much damage that one man had caused when he didn't even step one foot out of that shed.

After Rick was done speaking and minutes of complete silence passed over us, people slowly began to disperse back towards the house. Taking it upon themselves to process this in their own way. I picked my head up after a moment, glancing around to everyone who was left, and pausing when I saw Glenn. He stood completely still, staring longingly at Dale's grave with reddened eyes, more tears only building up and threatening to spill.

It hurt to look at him, to see how much it was affecting him. Everyone could easily see that Dale had grown to be a father figure towards Glenn, and the loss was only taking a toll on him in unimaginable ways.

Daryl hadn't moved from his place right next to me the whole time, even as the remaining people stood in silence, but I felt him subtly nudge my arm after a while. My eyes glanced back up to him enough to see him briefly nod his head away from the remainder of the group so we could talk. I followed him wordlessly as he walked in front of me, wanting to get away from all the depressing shit that seemed to follow us like the goddamn plague. But I knew in the back of my mind no matter how much I wanted to escape it; it would somehow always be there.

The two of us got a good distance away from everyone else, before he finally turned around to face me again, "You doin okay?" he hesitatnly asked.

I nodded my head silently, knowing that if I opened my mouth to try and speak, the floodgates would only open once more. During the whole small ceremony I didn't cry, not because I didn't want to, but because I was embarrassed. I was tired of crying, and I was especially tired of crying in front of Daryl. Somehow always managing to catch my not so great moments.

"Say somethin." he spoke in a soft voice.

Closing my eyes with a deep sigh, I muttered, "I'm okay."

But my voice cracking towards the end, just proved how much I wasn't okay. Not in the slightest. That's all it took and before I knew it, tears were streaming down my face like a fucking dam that broke instantly. But upon seeing this, he didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around me tightly in a hug, rubbing my back reassuringly. I let out a breath as I buried my face into his chest, crying quietly as I finally let everything out that I had been holding back. His chin rested on top of my head, his soothing voice echoing around the silent space.

"I know, I know. It's gonna be alright." he spoke softly.

I wanted to believe him more than anything even though the hope I once had was slowly dimming, I still nodded my head regardless.

After a few moments of being a complete mess, I got control of my breathing and was able to pull my head away to actually look him in the eye. He studied me with an emotion I couldn't quite figure out, although I could tell he was still worried. He was so incredibly patient with me, it amazed me.

"Thanks." I whispered as I wiped my cheeks.

He shook his head, "Ya don't gotta thank me. I just want ya to be okay." he said sadly.

"I will be," I reassured him, "I just need some time...and like...a shot of whiskey or something." I half joked with a breathy laugh.

He chuckled quietly before nodding his head in agreement, "You and me both." he said, "I was supposed ta go out with Shane, Andrea, and T-Dog to check the perimeter, but...I can stay if ya need me to."

"No, no it's okay. I'll be okay." I waved him off.

"Ya sure?" he asked.

I nodded my head, "Go check the perimeter, I'll see you later, yeah?"

He nodded with a small smile on his face, quickly looking behind me just past my head to see if anyone could see us, before pulling me into a gentle kiss. I gladly kissed him back, feeling my heart quicken at the softness of his lips. He then pulled back after a moment or two, and started kissing lightly all over my face until I let out a quiet laugh, attempting to push him away at the tickling feeling it left.

"Ah, music to my ears." he said with a full on proud smile.

My heart began to warm at his words, kissing him once more before we began to walk back towards the house side by side.

As the house began to come into view, Daryl squeezed my hand briefly before heading off towards the vehicles where the others were waiting for him. I found myself glancing around the farm after he left, scanning the area to try and figure out a way to pass some time without having to linger on the new loss too much. My eyes then landed on the pretty pink curtains flowing out of Beth's room, her window open to let in the slight breeze.

I felt myself smile as I made my way up the porch and into the house to head up to her room, wanting to check up on her. It had been a little bit since I had last seen her and I wanted to make sure she was doing better since the last time we spoke.

For the most part she stayed in her room, especially since every single discussion we would have about Randall, the kids weren't allowed to be in the room. It's not that we didn't want them to have an opinion on the matter, but we also didn't want them to have to hear every single thing that was said. Because believe me when Shane opened his mouth, it got ugly.

But other than that she would only come down for meals and to just get out of her room briefly every once and a while. Mostly keeping to herself after everything.

As I came up the last few steps, I saw her sitting down on the edge of her bed with the guitar in her hands, practicing a few chords I had taught her. I smiled a little to myself and approached the slightly opened door quietly, knocking a few times to bring her attention towards me.

She looked up and an instant smile broke onto her face, "Hi Rose."

"Hi hon." I greeted as I passed through the threshold.

Her smile slightly faltered when I entered the room further, taking a hesitant seat on the edge of her bed as she tilted her head a little towards me. "How're you doing?" she asked quietly.

I gave her a confused look, "I should be asking how you're doing."

She waved me off, "I'm okay, I promise. I was just asking you because you know... Dale. I can see how hard it's been on you guys."

"Oh." I muttered quietly with a nod, "I'm doing better, you're too sweet to check on me."

She smiled and reached out to grab my hand lightly, "You've practically been looking out for me since you got here...I want to look out for you too."

"I think that was the other way around. You were looking after me when I was shot, remember?" I asked.

"Well yeah, but I'm talking about after that." she said with a light laugh.

I smiled at her, "Well, I guess we just like looking out for each other, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess we do. And I don't plan on stopping anytime soon." she said, giving my hand a soft squeeze.

My heart warmed at her words, "Me either, hon." I said before glancing back towards the guitar that was now on the other side of the bed, not wanting to get all emotional again after the morning I already had. "You think you're ready for another lesson?" I asked.

Her eyes lit up "Yes!" she said, reaching over to grab the object quickly.

I began to teach her two more chords that were a little more difficult than last time, watching her struggle a little with it at first before she excelled. She was truly a natural when it came to this stuff, knowing in the back of my mind that it took me weeks to learn the things she's practically mastered in just a few days. Though she practiced a lot, I could tell that somehow this was her calling; music.

I also couldn't ignore the obvious progress she was making, not only in learning the new instrument, but also with how she was mentally. She seemed to be lighter than before, a little bit of life returning to her eyes when she looked at me that wasn't always there before. Even though she still seemed to be having a rough time with everything all at once, progress was still progress. And I couldn't have been more proud of her.

After practicing for far longer than either of us intended, there was a sudden knock at the door that made us both turn around towards the doorway to see Carl. Except the look he had on his face almost made me do a double take. His stance came off as nervous and jittery as he lingered in the doorway, not taking a single step inside as his eyes went back and forth between the two of us.

"Hey kid...what's up?" I asked a bit hesitantly.

"Uh..." he trailed off, looking towards Beth before back to me, "Can I talk to you for a second?" he asked me.

I nodded my head, slightly concerned, "Yeah," I said before turning back to Beth, "I guess we'll stop here for today, just keep practicing that one chord and we can go over more tomorrow if you'd like?"

"Yeah, I'd really love that. Thanks Ro." she said with a smile.

I nodded before getting off the bed, heading towards where Carl was standing. He didn't hesitate to grab my hand quickly and pull me out of the room and down the steps, almost causing me to trip. He didn't stop or pause until we were outside and far enough away from everyone else so no one could hear the conversation we were about to have. I was only growing more concerned than before as I watched him try to find the words to say to me.

"Carl?" I said to get his attention, "What's wrong?"

He sighed before slowly reaching behind his back, pulling out a gun that I recognized. It was Daryl's. He handed it over to me wordlessly and looked anywhere but my eyes.

"Where did you find this?" I asked him, seeing if he would tell me the truth.

"I...I took it from Daryl's bag." he muttered, his eyes staring down at his shoes.

Though when I didn't respond or say anything at all, he took a chance and looked back up at me. I could easily see the tears building up in his eyes as he admitted that, thinking I would be mad, but I easily could tell there was something else on his conscience. Something else that made my face instantly soften upon seeing him so upset yet trying desperately to keep it together.

I got down to his level to look him in the eye, "That's not it, I can tell. Talk to me kid." I said in a soft voice.

He then broke down, "Rose it's all my fault, it's my fault Dale died!" he cried, "I was out in the woods when I saw a walker that was stuck in the mud. I wanted to shoot it with the gun but then it got free, and I didn't kill it. It was the same walker that killed Dale. I recognized it, I got Dale killed!"

At this point my eyes were wide and he was a sobbing mess. It took me a second to process everything he had just told me, but I quickly put the gun on the ground beside me and placed both of my hands on the side of his face to wipe his tears away.

"Hey, hey, you did not get Dale killed. You hear me? None of us could've known what was going to happen, this was not your fault." I said in a soft voice.

More tears fell from his eyes, "But-"

"No, no buts." I interrupted, "You were not the cause of that. Please do not blame yourself, okay?"

He looked at me for a moment before nodding his head and quickly wrapping his arms around me in a tight hug. I let out a breath as I hugged him back just as tight, wanting to do anything I could to keep him from blaming himself about Dale. I knew the feeling all too well and it wasn't a good habit to be picked up, and I could only imagine what it would do to someone his age. He was still just a kid.

He sniffled as he slowly let go of me, "Can you...please not tell my parents? They would kill me if they knew what I did." he pleaded.

I shook my head, "Carl, they have to know what happened. You had a gun." I said, watching his face drop drastically at the fear of getting into trouble. "Listen...I won't say anything to them, but that means you have to tell them yourself. Deal?"

He thought about silently it for a moment as he bit his lip in thought, before agreeing, "Deal." he said with a nod.

I nodded in return as I adjusted the hat on top of his head, my hand then landing on the side of his face to wipe any remaining tears that still stained his cheeks. But my comfort only seemed to make his lip quiver, wrapping his arms around me again as a clear weight was lifted off of him.

"Thanks for listening to me." he whispered gratefully.

"Anytime kid." I said before letting him go, "I'm always right here when you need me." I assured, brushing some of the hair away from his face.

He nodded before slowly heading back off towards the house. I watched him walk away for a moment before sighing to myself, looking back down to the ground and picking up the missing gun before I made my way back to our camp to put it back with his things. In the back of my mind I knew he probably noticed his weapon had been missing for a while, but I wouldn't make Carl tell him like I wanted him to tell his parents. The kid was always watching him with wide eyes as if he was slightly intimidated by him, and I didn't want to kill him or anything.

Though when I walked in the tent to put it back, I quickly noticed that he, along with the others, weren't back yet. Probably still circling around the property to make sure all the lingering walkers were being taken care of. With nothing else really to do to pass the time, I figured I would finally finish the painting of the house while I still had the chance. The weather was only getting colder now so I wanted to use as much time outside as I could.

I also just needed to distract and calm myself, and painting sounded the most relaxing to me right now. So I picked up my things and made my way back to the spot that I seemed to have claimed over the weeks, sitting back down to examine the house for what could be the last time. I worked quietly by myself as I finished up the small details with the paintbrush, a few others moving their belongings, walking in and out of the house catching my eye.

Just a few days ago, Hershel announced that he would allow all of us to move into their house for the winter considering it was getting a bit too cold to keep sleeping outside. It was very nice of him to offer, but I knew it was going to be jam packed in that place. There were a lot of us and not a lot of room the house had left to offer, but it was still better than freezing our asses off.

My thoughts stopped short however when I saw Maggie walk out through the screen door, before a small smile traced her lips as she began to walk over to me.

She took a seat beside me with a huff, "How're you doing babe?" she asked.

I looked at her with raised brows, "Babe? What are we official now?" I joked.

She laughed and shook her head, "Sorry, I used to call my friends that before everything. I don't have to if you don't wan-"

"No, it's okay." I assured and gave her a smile, "And I'm doing about as okay as I can be. How about you?"

She sighed, "I'm doing fine, it's just...I know Glenn was close to him. I feel awful watching him grieve and I wish I could do something to help him."

"We all just need some time to process it. It was a lot...I know it's going to be hard to move on, but we will." I replied.

She nodded her head in agreement, "Yeah, we will."

A few hours had passed in a flash before the group finally made it back from trailing across the whole acre, the day only feeling like it was dragging on and on. But the second they made it back, Rick wasted no time grabbing Daryl to take Randall out and get it over with before the day was over. And of course Shane had to run his mouth about that. Not only at the fact that we were now sparing this man's life, but also because Rick trusted Daryl more than he did his best friend. But again, they weren't exactly close like that anymore, in fact they were only drifting further.

But Randall, we weren't going to kill him, but we still didn't trust him enough to let him stay here, even if it was what Dale wanted, to give him a chance. We couldn't risk it. None of us really knew him and none of us wanted to know him, we just wanted him gone.

I stood on the porch next to Rick and Daryl, listening to their plan on where they were going to take him as  they looked down at their map. T-Dog had offered to go get him after he overheard part of their conversation, heading towards the shed in a flash. They had a truck loaded up right in front of us and everything, going on and on about how many miles they should drive out to make sure he wasn't coming back.

"You guys sure you don't want me to come with?" I asked suddenly.

"No." they both voiced at the same time without even missing a beat.

My eyes widened as I scoffed at the two of them, crossing my arms over my chest as I leaned up against the white pillar, "Damn alright then, might as well put me on a leash while you're at it."

Rick chuckled and only gave me an amused smile, "Why would we put you on a leash?" he asked.

"Because you're both pretty controlling about this." I pointed out.

Daryl only scoffed as he began to fold up the map in his hands, "We just want ya safe, dar-" he started, but immediately stopped himself.

My eyes widened as I looked at him from just behind Rick's head, pressing my lips together to hold back the laugh I almost let out. Daryl's cheeks burned a bright red, and I could tell he was kicking himself for slipping up though he tried to just brush it off as he cleared his throat awkwardly. Rick looked at the man with a tilt of his head, attempting to say something, but T-Dog's voice thankfully cut through the painful silent air.

"He's gone!" the man yelled.

My eyes widened. I froze, genuinely wondering if I had heard him right. Oh but I did, Rick and Daryl's panicked expressions only resembled my own.

In a split second, the three of us didn't hesitate to take off down the porch, jogging across the large field to see for ourselves. T-Dog only followed close behind us, running beside us just as frantically as he didn't even have enough time to process the sudden sight himself. The door was open only a crack as we approached it, pushing it all the way open to see the shed completely empty, the handcuffs that were once on his wrists were still chained up and perfectly intact.

My mouth parted in shock as I scanned the small space top to bottom for any kind of indication on how he escaped, but found none. It seemed almost impossible.

The rest of the group was quick to spot us all lingering by the shed, only assuming the worst as they fanned out of the house to join us and see what the hell was going on. They all approached loudly, asking us question after question when we knew just as little as they did. Though I couldn't pull myself to listen to any of them as I racked my brain as to how he managed to get out of here when the door was locked from the outside. How he was able to slip his hands through metal handcuffs that were meant to keep anyone and everyone put right where they were.

There was no blind spot, no loose wooden board, no nothing. None of it made any sense, and it only caused everyone around us to panic.

"Rick! Rick!" a sudden voice screamed from the trees just beside us.

Everyone's heads whipped around at the same time towards the sound to see Shane making his way out of the woods, blood dripping heavily from his nose. His steps were heavy and fast as he made his way over to us, smoke coming out of his ears with how angry he looked.

"What the hell happened?" I yelled.

"He's armed, he's got my gun!" he said as his pace only sped up.

Carl then spoke up, "Are you okay?" he asked in genuine concern.

He shook his head, "I'm fine, the little bastard just snuck up on me and clocked me in the face." he responded.

Rick then turned around to the rest of us, "Alright Hershel, T-Dog, get everyone back in the house. Glenn, Daryl, Rose, come with us." he quickly instructed without a second thought.

I stepped up immediately, taking the gun Glenn was handing over and opening the chamber to check the bullets as the rest of them spoke behind me.

"T, I'm gonna need that gun." Shane said.

"Just let him go, that was the plan wasn't it? To just let him go?" Carol asked.

"The plan was to cut him loose far away from here, not on our front step with a gun." Rick snapped.

"No, don't go out there you don't know what can happen." Carol argued, genuine fear and concern filling her entire being.

But Rick only ignored her, knowing we couldn't just let this go. "Get everyone back in the house, lock all the doors, and stay put!"

Once Rick stepped forward to move, the rest of us followed right after that, walking right into the danger zone it seemed like from how serious this became. Zero to one hundred in just a matter of a minute.

But Shane looked back at me suddenly from his place next to Rick, locking his eyes with mine, and the sight was enough to send goosebumps rising on my skin. Though I held his gaze, trying not to show what had just happened, but he caught on quicker than I would've liked, the small smirk on his face instantly gave him away.

From the lone feeling I had, just by merely looking him in the eye, I could tell instantly that something wasn't right. Like something bad was about to happen.

~ Thanks for reading!

(Merry late Christmas!)

[middleearthpixie]

Something in the Night ~ Chapter Sixteen

Summary: Following the Battle of the Five Armies, a seriously wounded Thorin Oakenshield returns to Erebor to recuperate and eventually ascend the throne as king. With the deaths of Azog the Defiler and his son, Bolg, Thorin no longer has to worry about the bounty the Defiler placed on his head and can instead concentrate on restoring Erebor to its former glory. 

Nina Carren of Esgaroth has one goal—to make Thorin Oakenshield pay for unleashing Smaug the dragon unto her home—where he destroyed the town and killed her family. The Defiler might be gone, but his bounty remains very much in place, and she fully intends to collect on it. 

Finally, the opportunity shows itself for her to do just that, only to have it go horribly awry. Wounded and now at his mercy, neither Nina nor Thorin stopped to think what might happen, should things not go quite according to plan…

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x ofc Nina Carren

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Word Count: 3.1k

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Previous chapters can be found here. 

His first few days back were far busier than he’d anticipated, as he had much to catch up on in his absence. But he had no complaints about what had been left for him, as Dís had done a more than competent job in managing things in his stead. Even so, she was also very willing and happy to turn his duties back over to him.

He had been back in Erebor for almost a week when Dís rapped on the door to his flat. “Thorin, do you have a moment?”

He’d been on his sofa, head back, eyes closed, and lifted his head to call, “It’s open. Come in.”

The door swung open and he braced himself for the whirlwind that was his sister as she barreled into the room, the beads woven into her beard clacking with every step. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d decided to take the day off.”

He smiled. “No. I was up late last eve with Balin, catching up on the progress at Esgaroth and Dale. Men built at a far slower pace than dwarves, it seems, and they like to pad their bills as much as possible.”

Dís’ forehead wrinkled slightly. “Are we being cheated?”

“No more than usual and with Balin’s keen eyes keeping close watch, we catch each and every mistake before the bill is paid. It’s amazing how many mathematical errors find their way into invoices.”

“Perhaps we should rethink—”

“No. I gave my word, Dís.” He shook his head slowly. “And I went back on it once. I cannot do so again, but I also will not let them take me for a fool, either. Balin is far more diplomatic than I will ever be, and so when he calls them on their nonsense, they rectify it at once.”

“You’ve more patience than I would, I’ll have you know. I do not look kindly on those who think to steal from me.”

“Nor do I, but in all honesty, I think Bard is honest as well and if we didn't catch it, he most likely would.”

Dís hardly looked convinced even as she replied, “If you say so.”

“Either way, you needn’t worry about it.” He sat up, hands clasped between his knees. “Now, I know you came here not to be bored with construction news that you’ve already been privy to.”

“You know me well, brother.” She skirted the stone table before the sofa to settle alongside him. “There is something I wished to ask you and I hope you’ll not think I am meddling too much.”

“Which of course means you are about to meddle.” He said it with a smile, for no matter how much meddling Dís did—and she could be quite meddlesome when the mood struck—her intentions were of the best where he was concerned and he understood that, even if it threatened to drive him into madness time and again.

“Yes, it does.” Her hand came to rest on his knee. “Did you still wish me to see about inviting Elisin to come stay for a bit?”

He sighed softly. Elisin was the woman he’d at one point planned to court. She was a distant cousin, and one he’d known most of his life. He wasn't madly in love with her, but they got on well and should Mahal see fit for them to have children, she would be a fine mother.

But that was before Nina Carren came into his life.

Nina. 

His stomach curdled with fury at her betrayal. Why couldn’t he simply forget about her? She’d played him false, pretended to care, all the while plotting to end his life. 

For five thousand in gold.

Trouble was, he couldn't forget about her and no matter how busy he tried to be, she was always there, lingering in the back of his mind. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't shake the memory of her, and as more time passed, he found himself on the verge of pining for her and that was the last thing he wanted or needed.

 “Thorin?”

“Yes, please. By all means, invite her to come stay for a bit. There is still much to be done here, but she will be comfortable enough. And, as you reminded me before I departed for Rivendell, I am growing no younger and should think about taking a wife and giving Erebor a queen.”

“And you wish to do this now? You told me at the time to mind my own matters.”

“Things change.”

“What things?” She gave his knee a squeeze. “Did something happen whilst you were in Rivendell? A romance with an elf that went sour, perhaps?”

He chuckled. “No, our relations with the elves are better than they were, but they will never be that good.”

“So what is it, then?”

“Nothing. It is only that I’ve traveled far and nearly died and realize that my life is passing and I’ve little to show for it in the way of personal matters.”

“Are you certain that is all? You haven’t seemed like yourself since you returned. And I know you hate when I pry, as you like to call it, but you just… you seem unhappy, Thorin. And I hate seeing you unhappy and you know that. So, is that all?”

A knowing look accompanied her words and he braced himself for her to ask about Nina—or the mystery mercenary, as Dís kept calling her. When she said nothing more, he offered up a silent prayer of thanks and shook his head slowly. “I am tired, is all. It was an adventure, both getting to and coming from Rivendell. We crossed paths with a determined orc pack just beyond Rivendell’s borders and I am fairly certain we met up with them again outside Mirkwood’s.”

“I told you that you should take more than just Dwalin.” She squeezed his knee again. “But don't tell him I said that.”

“I won’t. And you were probably right. But, rest assured, I have no plans on leaving Erebor to go any further than Dale or Esgaroth for the near future.”

“Good. Then I will extend an invitation to Elisin and perhaps we might have a party of sorts to welcome her?”

“I think that sounds doable.”

“Then I will see it done and posted before luncheon.” She rose, then peered down at him, her face lined with concern, her blue eyes, so like his own, troubled. “Are you certain nothing else troubles you?”

“I’m positive.”

“Very well.” 

She bent to press a kissing the top of his head, and then with a soft clacking, let herself out and silence fell upon him once more. As the door closed behind her, he let his head fall to the back of the sofa once more. All he wanted to do was forget Nina. Forget the magical night he’d spent with her.

Forget that he was on the verge of falling in love with her. 

Perhaps Elisin’s arrival would help him do just that. 

A low sigh leaked through his teeth. Somehow, he knew he was just lying to himself.

“Yer Sigrid’s friend, ain’t ye?”

Cold grey eyes alit on her and while those eyes sent a shiver along her spine, Nina managed to keep that to herself as she smiled and nodded. “I am, yes. She told me you needed serving girls and I’d like to apply for the job."

The tavern proprietor, Harald narrowed his eyes as he gave her a long up-and-down appraisal. “Sigrid told ye I needed help, did she? Ye have any experience?”

Drawing in a deep breath, she slowly shook her head. Although her fever had broken several days ago, after the doctor Sigrid brought to the flat treated her infected wound, Nina still felt a bit unsteady and tired easily. Hopefully, Harald hadn’t noticed. “No, but I am fast learner and I’m quick on my feet.” 

He didn't look at all convinced or inclined to offer her a job, but then he shrugged and with a heavy sigh, said, “I’ve nothing to lose, I s’pose. Business is still slow, and Margrete’s been complaining about needing help. When can ye start?”

“When do you need me to start?”

“Can ye be here this eve? ‘Bout half-six?”

“Done.” She held out her hand.

He looked down at it, then up at her once more, then slowly reached to clasp that hand. “Don’t be late, girlie.”

“I won’t be.”

“And try to dress up a little,” he advised, his smile becoming a bit of a leer. “Show some skin. Ye’ll thank me.”

The thought turned her stomach, but she managed to nod. “Of course.”

“Go on, then. Go home and change.”

“I will see you at half-six.” She turned and made her way back out into the warm sunlight to go home.

Home. 

It had been so long since she’d had a home—a true home—but now she did, as Sigrid had told her she was welcome to remain with her in the small flat at the end of the alley. Nina had her own small, cozy room, and as she recuperated, her friendship with Sigrid picked up where it had left off, with late night chats filled with laughter and gossip, although Nina had no idea who had the people Sigrid mentioned were. And it didn't matter. She would come to know them in time. As the days passed and her wounds healed, she was the one who insisted she needed to find a job. Sigrid told her to take as much time as she needed, but Nina couldn't bear the thought of being a burden for any longer than was absolutely necessary. 

So, that was when Sigrid suggested Nina come talk to the Black Swan’s owner, sure he would give her a job. And now, as she strolled along the alley toward the flat, she managed a slight smile. She was becoming adept at beginning her life anew. And that’s what this was as well, another chance. 

The alley ended at a low stone wall that overlooked the Long Lake and what would one day again be Esgaroth. As her ability to get around returned, Nina found herself out there, at the low stone wall, more than once, just gazing out at what had been her home.

She sighed as she reached that wall and sank onto the wide flat top, her back against the stone building it met. Day after day, she sat there, just gazing out at the city under construction. Despite her distance from Esgaroth, she could hear the faint sounds of men working to rebuild, watched as new pilings replaced the charred, ruined ones. Watched as the walkways and bulkheads and platforms were erected and houses framed out upon them. 

It was bittersweet, seeing the rebirth of Esgaroth. Her life there had been difficult, but happy. She loved her family, they loved her, and although they were not wealthy by any means, thanks to her father’s disappearance and the Master’s greed, they had still been happy. 

Until the dwarves of Erebor arrived. They changed everything. 

And one of them had changed her forever.

She never regretted anything as much as she did going to see Tarog. What a fool she was, thinking she could be a cold-blooded killer, no matter how angry she’d been with Thorin. Truth be told, by the time she spied him in the tavern, her anger had faded, her grief had not run its course, but had become manageable. When she’d spotted him, she felt an initial burst of fury, but by the time she caught up to him in the clearing and took the arrow meant for him, it had begun to fade.

He’d seen to it she was cared for, and allowed her to join them.

By the time they’d shared their first kiss, she knew she was in trouble. 

And now?

Now she sighed, gazing out at the Long Lake as the sun burned across it to make its surface shimmer like fire.

“Show some skin,” she murmured, smiling at the shimmering lake. “Somehow, that isn’t very likely.”

****

In the year since Erebor had been reclaimed, restoration had been at a steady pace. Day after day, the city reverberated with activity and Thorin had no complaints with how Dís had run things in his stead. If he and his nephews had succumbed to their injuries, she would have made as fine a ruler as their cousin Dáin, who would have inherited the throne. He’d often thought about naming her his heir, should something else befall both him and her sons. He still hadn’t ruled it out entirely. 

He stood at the landing that overlooked the treasure hoard of Erebor. It had been depleted some since they reclaimed the mountain, and while it had pained him at first, now, it no longer troubled him in the slightest. He had much to atone for and rebuilding both Esgaroth and Dale were a small price to pay. 

Even with what the treasury of Erebor had parted with there was still a sea of gold. An ocean of gemstones of every cut and color. As he leaned against the railing of pure gold, against the wall of labradorite so green it looked almost black and had been polished to a mirror finish, and gazed out at that sea, a low sigh came to his lips. 

A feeling of restlessness came over him, and he pushed away from the wall to make his way down the one intact staircase leading to the hoard. In time, the second one would be refurbished, but for now, the one was more than enough. 

The stones and coins and other treasures shifted slightly beneath his bulk as he picked his way around all of it, wading into the center of the chamber. He didn't know what he looked for, only that he would know when he found it.

And find it, he did. A beautiful emerald the size of his fist. He scooped it up, the facets glittering under the torchlight as it rolled in his palm. The deep green stone reminded him of a pair of eyes almost that same rich shade. Eyes he’d lost himself in. Eyes he wished he could always lose himself in.

The eyes of a traitor.

He scowled at the stone and drew his arm back to fire it deeper into the chamber when Dís appeared on the landing. “What are you doing?”

His arm lowered of its own. “I’m bidding some old ghosts farewell.” He tucked the emerald into his trouser pocket. “What brings you here?”

“Elisin arrived earlier. I sent her to freshen up from her journey.”

“She made good time.”

“I think she was in a hurry to make certain no one else claimed your heart first.”

He forced a laugh to his lips. “Tell her there is no danger of that happening.”

“Isn’t there?” Dís came down the stairs, then carefully stepped into the sea of wealth. “You’ve been moping about here for the past fortnight as if someone has died. Now, give over and tell me. It’s your mystery mercenary, isn’t it?”

Annoyance bubbled through him, but he tamped it down as he shook his head. “No. It isn’t and there is nothing to tell, Dís.” He crossed over to her, holding out a hand as she stumbled over a jumble of gold plates. 

She caught it, her fingers tightening about his. “Thorin, do not lie to me. I know you better than you think.”

He sighed. “Dís, please… I’ve no wish to discuss it.”

“Very well. I’ll not press, but if you ever wish to—”

“I know,” he replied, offering her his arm. “Why don't we go above and I can reacquaint myself with Elisin?”

She looked as if she didn't believe him, but thought better of trying to force the issue. Instead, she nodded. “Very well.”

They crossed back to the staircase and once they were on the main floor, Dís pulled her arm free. “I’ll go fetch Elisin. You try not to look so broody. You’ll frighten her off.”

He scowled. “I do not brood.”

“I do not brood.”

“Thorin, you were staring off into the dark forever.” Nina affixed him with a long look. “That’s brooding.”

“I was thinking.”

“You were brooding. It’s all right. You can admit it.”

Why couldn't he stop thinking about Nina? She betrayed him. She was going to end his life for five thousand pieces of gold. 

So, why did thinking of her hurt as well as make him angry? In fact, why was the hurt overtaking the anger a little more with each passing day?

Because hurt was the only description he had for what could only be described as an ache in his heart. 

“Thorin?”

He started, jolted from his reverie. “What?”

Dís offered up a queer look. “Where were you?”

“Nowhere,” he waved off her concern, “so, go and fetch Elisin. I look forward to seeing her again.”

He hoped the smile he forced to his lips didn’t look so forced to his sister. She had an uncanny knack for seeing through any and all facades when it came to her sons and her brother. But the truth was, he cared nothing for seeing Elisin. In reality? He wanted to go and find Nina, to ask her why she’d chosen to hunt him. Why she instead stepped in front of that arrow for him, why she put herself between him and an orc’s blade, if she wanted to kill him? And had she truly attempted to kill him that last night?

But he had no idea where he might look for her, and even if he found her, there was no telling that his anger wouldn’t get the best of him. It might have faded some, but it hadn’t gone entirely. Not yet, anyway.

“Are you certain?” Dís asked.

“I am, indeed,” he assured her.

“Very well. Try not to brood too much longer.”

“I will do my best.”

He watched her leave, then turned back to the hoard, withdrawing the emerald from his pocket. It lay in the palm of his hand, glittering in the flickering torchlight. For a moment, he thought about hurling it back into the sea of gemstones, but then instead slipped it back into his pocket. 

[rinse-and-repeat2]

Decided to go through with it and start posting my different AUs, but I'll only do a few per post to keep it short (tried to do all of them in one post but it ended up being so long that it was crazy) so maybe about 3 per post? sure, yeah, and I'll add a small excerpt for each if I've written one for that particular AU. If you don't want to see them just uhh I dunno block the rinse AUs tag or something sure there you go anyway here's to the first group

Sunset Order AU - An AU about Dale, Warren, and their parent’s backstory. This includes something I created called the Sunset Order which is a branch off of the Knights of Dawn for any kind of behind-the-scenes work that would need to be done, including getting hands dirty (which was made while the Sphinx was the head of the Knights). When Dale is forced into the magical world not exactly by choice, he has to quickly adapt and continue to care for Warren after the recent deaths of their parents alongside uncovering secrets from their past. In its entirety, this is self-indulgent and cobbled together by how little we know about their past/the past of Fablehaven. (No excerpt written)

Street Magic AU - Another short idea I had where magic is more widely known, and the preserves instead serve as schools (very, very prestigious schools). This is in a much more modern world, and magic is incredibly complicated to wield. So, it's often not used unless you pay for the education. Much of the population cannot use magic because of this. Kendra, having shown a proficiency in her understanding of magic, is able to get a full-ride scholarship to what would be Fablehaven's school. Meanwhile, Seth (who is not good at typical academics, studying, and the like) finds a typical, yet hidden, magician's shop and begins to learn magic there instead, under many people's noses (as he does). While Kendra begins to learn what secrets Fablehaven was built on, Seth learns magic in its entirety, not the typical watered-down version by society. (No excerpt written)

Viridity - This one is very near and dear to my heart, but it may not be that near and dear to some others because one of the main people it focuses on is Knox and it also has to acknowledge the end of Dragonwatch (whatever that was). This is a character study on Knox, Seth, and the relationship between them, as they're the same age but such different people in such different situations. This deals with reflections, comparisons, and interactions between them in almost one-shot form. This is partially an AU because I change bits and pieces of the end of Dragonwatch as I wish, but I also keep it as a plot in order to sow doubt after the fact. This fanfiction is about masks, late night conversations, sleep deprivation, and the inherent doubt that is included in growing up (Excerpt Incoming).

Silence worked its way around the room again, filling the gaps no longer in a comfortable way, but in a way where it sunk into their bones, sidled up next to them and breathed down their necks. A shiver rattled down Seth’s spine as an undercurrent began to flow of some emotion he couldn’t identify. Breaths were no longer easy to come by as they had been moments before. Now, suddenly, Seth stood in the kitchen with someone else when before, he had been happily existing alone. It felt… off. Wrong. As if Knox’s eyes could somehow pierce through his very being, analyze him… despite knowing Knox couldn’t—wouldn’t—do that. Kendra would, of course, but not Knox. Not… Knox didn’t have the brainpower to do that, probably. Even now, he spun and flicked the milk bottle cap on the table, looking frustrated every time it spun out and fell. Seth would usually laugh at him, say something about the stupid face he made every time he failed, but Seth couldn’t. Tonight, the tension hung heavy in the air like a smog, having followed Seth down ever since his dream—nightmare, not dream, his mind tugged at him—and it wouldn’t go. It wouldn’t leave. “I’m sorry.” The word slipped from his mouth like a whisper, a small wisp that gets caught up in the smog. He didn’t know why the words came from his mouth—whether it stood as a betrayal from his mind or sleep deprivation finally grasping him in its claws. Maybe… maybe Knox hadn’t heard him. Maybe this would blow over and mean nothing. Knox, meanwhile, stared at Seth, eyes wide and bottle cap forgotten, halfway teetering off the edge before it fell, plummeting to the ground with a sharp clatter. “…What?” Well, shit.

(If you have any questions, want to comment, send an ask, anything else, please do! I love these AUs with my whole heart, whether or not they're anywhere close to being done and I'm going to keep sharing them)

[icos-3]

Dear Diary

Today was my first day back at school. I should have expected it would be like this.

Since Dash isn't as... involved (?) as he was with bullying, Dale took it upon himself to try and push me into my locker. Luckily Dash broke it off. I'm really glad he did, I'm pretty sure Dale wasn't as gentle as Dash was, but I've never seen Dash that angry at one of his friends. And I've never heard him threaten anyone like that before...

it felt really surreal. It almost felt like how he defended his girlfriend from that creepo who wanted to take photos of all the pretty girls in school. Wait, why does that fit so well here?

I usually faded into the background, but now, whenever I enter a room, everyone looks at me. well, actually, they stare at me. I can feel it in the air. I can taste it. Their pity. Fear.

Dash and Kwan seemed to be in their own worlds, but besides Dale not seeming to care and mister Lancer choosing to go on as normal, others like Paulina, Star, Mikey, Valarie, and even Wes, looked like they saw a ghost. Again. hah. bad joke. bad me

I'm beginning to wish they'd go back to calling me a freak or a geek. Or even loser.

At least then I could feed off of some positive emotions instead of this. Ew, why did I have to make it sound so creepy why am I so creepy

And of course the box ghost just had to come and make a mess of the cafeteria! Again! I really don't want this to be a pattern of fighting all my old rivals again. I was so lucky that Tucker remembered the thermos this time. Or else it would have taken much longer to get rid of him. I don't want to have to tell mom that we had a ghost in school today.

But at least it's good that the other ghosts have started coming back as well. I can't believe the city managed to run the sewers without Chris and Joansey.

I just hope everything can go back to normal soon.

I hate feeling like even more of an outsider

This takes place before chapter 13 of The Kidnapping of Danny Fenton

[1] . . . [3] <- [4] -> [5]

[brooklynislandgirl]

Only if you want! 💚 :' ) And if so, whichever verse speaks to you!

Imagine You and Me || -

Beth cannot remember a time where Ben wasn't in her life. As she grew older she realised how unusual that was, because everything about them should have made them enemies; Ben is dyed in the wool Protestant, the Rileys have been Catholic from almost from the time of Raghllaigh, Prince of Breffney in the Year of the Lord 981. The Rileys enjoy a privileged life of wealth, position, and titles where as the Tallmadges were more modest. But their fathers were fast friends, enjoying debate and arts and philosophy, so it was natural that their children would also be friends. Ben and Andy certainly were meeting when Beth was still in swaddling. For years the small group of children, Beth chased them through hill and dale, merely content to be included by the older ones though Ben reserved a special place in her world, as beloved as her brother Andrew was and remained. Ben was the only person who could ever call her Lizzie. And when the family moved from Setauket to Boston, then Boston to Philadelphia, leaving land and property thriving, Beth became inconsolable. A furious wave of letters written and sent eventually dwindled, and Beth carried on with her life and education, though she never forgot Ben. She always believed they would find each other again, she simply hadn't expected it to be a war with England that would do it. The second the murmurs made their circles, of course Andy threw his hat into the Continental ring. If Beth had had the luxury of being a second son, she would have followed soon after. From his letters home, Andy was pleased to report meeting back up with Ben and Brewster, Samuel and a fair few others. Having the responsibility of the household, Beth began to send funds and supplies as she could while maintaining the facade of neutrality important to Society.   When Andrew goes missing in battle, Ben took it upon himself to personally inform the family, to offer his condolences in person because he knows better than most that Andy is likely no longer in the world. Beth is devastated by the news, but equally shocked to realise three things; that Ben has grown into a fine man of some standing, that her feelings for him have only changed from their tender kinship to a fire burning in her chest, and that she won't let this chance slip away from her. Elizabeth Riley loves Ben Tallmadge, and she is serving two causes; freedom for her nation, and capturing the Major's affections. Her Straw Haired Soldier, her Good Reverend Oat. {{I am not gonna lie... I didn't see this one coming, but from the first sets of posts I absolutely fell in love with this ship, and am constantly amazed and delighted by how it's unfolding, and the plans we are making for them. I love how you write Ben, and I think he's absolutely darling under your care! 20/10, I will give them up when I am dead}}

Earl Grollman tells us: "Grief is not a disorder, a disease or a sign of weakness. It is an emotional, physical and spiritual necessity, the price you pay for love. The only cure for grief is to grieve." They don't meet conventionally, as one doesn't take a grief counselling meeting to be a place where one typically picks up a date, but they do find each other, and reach out. They make each other laugh and have such amazing chemistry from the get go. It's funny and it's awkward, and they are both holding back so much of their real lives and real selves. Maybe they want the other to see them as the people they wished they'd grown into. Maybe the baggage of everything they've experienced is too heavy and this is a fresh start. Regardless, it strikes me as both poignant and heart warming. There will be upset in the future of the story when the little lies told unravel and they become exposed to one another's truths, but I look forward to that, too. One of the things I find fascinating in this modern twist is that Ben has lost his younger brother, whom he was so very protective over, and "Ellie" has lost her older brother, who was so protective over here. The pieces left behind in the wake of their tragic too-young passings meet up in the ones who survive them, and they have perspectives and parts of themselves to offer that match up almost seamlessly. I love Ben's dark sort of humour, and I love how they have a lot in common despite leading very different lives. They will grow, they will change, they will leave a mark on each other and hopefully come out the better for having each other in their lives, and I don't really make a prediction of the future here, except I think it will be one of those lasting bonds. I love that they seem to have it it off like a match tossed into a pile of kerosene soaked rags. I love how Ben is and can be soft, can be open, can be a lot of things that go against stereotype, without missing a beat and without coming across as out of place, despite being sort of 'old fashioned'. Once again, you've hit one out of the park on this.

{{20/10, your honour, I love them. These are some of the sweetest, dearest ships in my heart}}

[herenya-writes]

Day 19: Plump

The forest was oddly quiet as the party approached the Lion’s Pavilion. It put Arlaros on edge, and his grip on his staff tightened as he began to pull magic from the Fade. Inquisition agents had lured the red templar responsible for manipulating the Freemen of the Dales here, and Arlaros and his companions had been sent in to kill him and put an end to his influence. Judging by the stillness of the forest, the red templar was already here. Arlaros doubted he had come alone.

He brought the group to a stop just out of sight of the pavilion. “The scouts reported that the Knight-Captain is almost completely under the influence of red lyrium. He’s retained his human form, but he’s stronger, faster, and wields some control over the other red templars. We need to kill him quickly.”

His companions nodded. “If he’s anything like the other lieutenants, he’ll have a group of templars with him, maybe some that have already turned into those terrors,” Blackwall said. “I can keep them focused on me while you kill the Knight-Captain.”

“Okay. Remember, we lured him here, so I want to utilize our element of surprise as much as we can.”

“It’s nice be on the other side of a trap for once,” Dorian mused, and Arlaros couldn’t help but agree. They had walked into too many ambushes for his liking.

“Dorian and Cole, I want you two to sneak behind the pavilion. My guess is that the Knight-Captain will be in the building itself, and I want you to surprise him. I’m going to walk up with Blackwall and keep the captain’s eyes on me for as long as possible.”

“Is Dorian capable of sneaking?” Blackwall asked dryly. “He fights like he’s entertaining a crowd.” It was an old barb, one Arlaros had made himself before. Still, Dorian tended to rise to it. This time, he stayed quiet, his eyes fixed on Arlaros.

“Shining, standing. A target on his back. Wish it was on mine. Too many eyes, too many swords.” It was Cole who said the words, but Arlaros had no doubt whose mind they were plucked from. He held Dorian’s eyes. He wasn’t going to back down from this. The red templars wanted to kill him, and he wasn’t afraid to use their single-mindedness against them.

After a long moment, Dorian dipped his head slightly.

Arlaros turned back to the group. “Blackwall and I will keep the templars’ attention but we won’t charge into battle right away. I want the captain to think we’re here to bargain. That’s when Cole and Dorian will strike.”

Everyone around the circle nodded, although there was reluctance in Dorian’s eyes.

“We’ll split up now. There should be a path that circles around the back for you two to take,” he said to Cole and Dorian. “We’ll give you a minute to get into position.”

As soon as he finished speaking, Cole was gone. It was as if the air around him warped and shimmered, cloaking him. Dorian had no such abilities, but he was quiet as he crept down the path toward the pavilion. Arlaros watched him for longer than he should have.

“It’s hard to love a soldier.” Blackwall’s words startled him, and he tore his gaze away from Dorian’s retreating form. There was a knowing, sad look in Blackwall’s eyes. “It’s even harder when there’s a difference in rank.”

Arlaros wanted to protest, but it was pointless. His relationship with Dorian was no secret, nor was it a secret that things between them had been tense ever since he had been severely injured when they had retaken a fort not long ago. Dorian was upset with him for taking unnecessary risks, and he was upset with Dorian for trying to shield him. He was the Inquisitor, risk came with the title.

“For what it’s worth, you two are managing this better than most people I’ve seen. You’ll get through this too.”

Arlaros nodded, unable to come up with a proper answer. He wanted to believe that what Blackwall said was true, but it wasn’t like their circumstances were going to change any time soon. He was still going to be the Inquisitor tomorrow, and he would still be forced to put Dorian and himself in danger.

He shook his head to clear it and adjusted his grip on his staff. It was time.

He and Blackwall strolled up the path to the pavilion. As they had expected, there were a few templars guarding the pavilion, and Arlaros could make out the hulking figure of the Knight-Commander inside. He came to a stop, and Blackwall moved a few steps in front of him, his shield raised.

“Knight-Captain Carrol,” he called, “I’ve come to speak with you.”

The Knight-Captain slung his hammer off of his back and took a menacing step forward. “The chosen of the Elder One don’t speak to lesser beings,” he snarled, and Arlaros had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. “Today you die, Inquisi--”

His threat was cut short by a groan of pain, as Cole buried his daggers into the captain’s back. The captain spun around, and the nearby templars leapt into action.

Blackwall let out a roar and charged the nearest templar, bashing the man in the face hard enough that Arlaros could hear the sickening crunch of a breaking nose. Two of the templars immediately turned toward Blackwall, giving Arlaros an opening to fire white-hot lightning at their backs. They twitched violently and collapsed.

The other templar in front of the pavilion must have taken more red lyrium than the others, because by the time Arlaros turned toward her, she was already transforming into one of those lyrium monsters. He blasted her with a few bolts of lightning, but her new form absorbed them easily.

He hated fighting these things. He hated that Corypheus had driven people to become monsters to serve his means. He hated that he was part of it. But none of that stopped him from slamming his staff into the ground and sending a powerful wave of lightning rippling toward the creature. She stumbled, and Arlaros sent three more bolts flying toward her in rapid succession. Electricity crackled over her twisted form, and she screamed as she died.

Arlaros was already running past her before she hit the floor.

He burst into the pavilion with a spell crackling at the tip of his staff, only to stop short. The Knight-Captain was gone, reduced to nothing more than a smoldering pile of ashes, as were the other two templars who had been guarding him. Even the plump pillows that were piled in one corner were smoldering. And there was Dorian, leaning heavily on his staff and glaring at the ashes as if he wanted to kill the man all over again.

Arlaros let his magic dissipate and leaned his staff against the nearest wall. Then, he took a few slow steps toward Dorian. Now that he was closer, he could see sweat beading on Dorian’s too pale face.

Dorian looked up from the ashes that were once the knight-captain and met his eyes. Then, he collapsed.

Arlaros darted forward and caught him before his head could crack against the ground. He pulled Dorian close as panic made his blood roar. It took him precious moments to forced his heartbeat back under control so he could listen for Dorian’s heartbeat. The relief that flooded him when he found it was sweeter than anything.

“He’s overextended his magic reserves,” he explained as he stood, lifting Dorian in his arms. “He’ll be okay, but he needs to rest.”

Blackwall nodded and stepped back to give them space. “I’ll keep watch. Shout if you need me.”

“Thank you.” Arlaros hoped he could hear his sincerity.

In the corner of his eye, Arlaros saw Cole extinguishing the few embers that had landed on the pillows. He nodded his gratitude and set Dorian on the pillows, leaning him carefully against the wall and then sitting beside him. He wanted to wrap his arms around him, but he wasn’t sure if Dorian would appreciate that right now.

“He is so bright, so bright, and burning. Burning for me and I didn’t ask him to.”

Arlaros gave a rueful smile. “No, I didn’t ask him to. But I keep putting him in situations where he feels like he has to overextend himself in order to keep me safe. That isn’t fair.”

Cole sat cross-legged across from him, a frown on his face. “You both want to keep each other safe, but the danger doesn’t stop. You’re hurting and hurting each other. Why?”

He wished he had an answer. He looked over at Dorian, whose face was slowly regaining its usual color. Even though he had pushed himself to collapse, he still looked gorgeous, and Arlaros’s heart ached in his chest.

“It’s hard to accept that Dorian is going to be in danger for as long as he follows me,” he finally said, eyes still fixed on Dorian’s face. “Everyone who follows the Inquisition banner is in danger, but Dorian isn’t following the banner. He’s following me. And I want nothing more than to keep him at my side, but the risks…” He sighed heavily. “I imagine Dorian feels similarly. He wants to keep me safe, but I keep throwing myself into situations where he can’t control what will happen. It’s hard to love a soldier.”

Silence fell. When Arlaros finally looked over to try and see what Cole was thinking, he was met with empty air. Cole was gone.

He shook his head and turned back to Dorian, finally giving into his urge to wrap an arm around him and pull him closer. A few minutes passed in silence as Arlaros counted each of Dorian’s breaths. Eventually, his lover began to stir, and Arlaros pulled back to give him space.

Dorian’s eyes blinked open and found his almost instantly.

“Hello,” Arlaros whispered, a sad smile on his face. “Welcome back to the land of the living.”

Dorian blinked again and hummed. “And here I was hoping I’d get to nap a little longer. Still, I can’t think of a better sight to wake to.”

“Flatterer.”

“I speak only the truth when it comes to you, amatus.”

They slipped into silence. Moving slowly, Dorian stretched his arms and cracked his neck and summoned a small flame to his fingertips. He watched it dance in the slight breeze for a long moment before extinguishing it.

Arlaros swallowed. “This isn’t sustainable,” he said, praying that his voice would stay level. “I can’t watch you burn yourself up for me.”

Dorian hummed, still staring at his hands. “I will admit I may have acted rashly.” Then he looked up and met Arlaros’s eyes. “But how can I do any less if I know it will keep you safe? The Inquisitor is worth one crispy Tevinter mage.”

Anger rushed through Arlaros, and he let out a slow and measured breath. “Not to me. Do you know how hard it is for me to send you into situations like this? What if you and Cole had been caught? What if Blackwall and I hadn’t arrived in time? Being the Inquisitor means making those decisions, but it doesn’t make them easy.” He leaned forward until his forehead was pressed against Dorian’s. “I want you by my side, vhenan, but I don’t want to hurt you because of my selfishness.”

“If you’re selfish, what does that make me?” Dorian whispered. “If I had my way, you wouldn’t be out here, wading through templars and Maker knows what else.”

“That isn’t your choice to make.”

“No, no it isn’t. But I can choose to be by your side.” Dorian pulled back. “I don’t regret doing what I can to keep you safe, but I will try to be more aware of my own limits in the future. Burning that templar to ashes wasn’t, I suppose, strictly necessary.”

Arlaros leaned his head on Dorian’s shoulder. He murmured a thank you into his lover’s skin, and they allowed themselves a few more moments to sit in each other’s embrace before they forced themselves to rise.

[libidomechanica]

“To lay hidden”

A sonnet sequence

               1

And take! Two days working the unweeting you meane no more your electric heater you’ll get cold out upon my plaints did spill: I saw ane an’ twenty, Tam! For who knowes not said a word in loops like to do. They whose velvet patches at last, so long have above! When dilated organs let it beseme anymore. Full clearer. If thou were to peer her. To lay hidden in the had hairs of cowslips bind him, but springs forth, thy tables that thou; but come to my sightless fragment of lowly life, climbing therefore, hey ho! Nor Cybele with stars the Bowl of Nature sprang from my Head.

               2

On this suffice: nor all that never can bear, a translation answer me; is any Blessing shall soon awake, and the colors just as the goblet: the kingdom of that the tender Green fledges left below; beneath these hymns and she was it will would task you Gods can bear, yet not as brain, its abacus and Night, I touch to its native power that doe you may remember, o’er yon mountains drive to write the tune. Tis not Rosalend? Ah, when I am becomes in his Strength doth fill which joyes to hold betwixt the fair. Burning, whither, gently on the dale along thy powre hath made of.

               3

That length doth filled with I did many kisses might, weigh the bliss assure; so as one is fitter that very heat may spent: for the dark slave to run their Cup a Round of negligence; that’s how dear! Its abacus and Noes, but taught the wood, and your electric meter I will come yells augment with an untoward is on the and expired: for the open to discover brewed from leaning of Time that time of Spring should notarize our strife, nor longer can compare, when she enquir’d if I had swept the Sunnebeame so beauties, they look’d but on her, as somewhere. When stiff and from my love?

               4

Knew it was, and sent, that in the arrow out, and with dignity of you asleep and building to feel her good; so softly and gone ere Robe of late and reach. My best hope to break it musk or civet can we can die by it, if no piece impending rise the cottage bench one think that which she setting lotion deep as the thou that feele no woe, woe is me, woe, woe is much gracelesse woe: and Cuddie, then my heart so soon became. I wish nor scorn my kind, and business was the thud of Arrow flew to Heaven to despair from the mountain height alone, and feele, and a new; and caused.

               5

A time of the sound soon gate which brings miswent? And then with a long-drawn break it must, my lassie o’ my Phillis—for spite, each me how to speak grief and songs and fro she was mine, mine, and multitude conclusion been, and in the boate for worth, and now I sate together, Brother’s eyes may seem false to do or how you will! They did all over and kindly nurst; as beams struck that sings of wild ordering lamps, and are after foolish Prophet to that she was the nightly damps did child of molten blue. Said Margaret to make and Sages who does wane; and the rest wights, and and Kaikobád and guest.

               6

I will bear a part: thou art, Thou, whose hands. And there all they never round such a dauntless woe till you be destroy! All ignorant of such a beauty’s field: sore and Pride, who felt it in this strength upon each others’ to abound; ascribed it more. How awkwardly clothed our head whenas there was a girl and by those tables, are wove. Catches grace. What would devise the whole mother part! And stream, gives me best with his still voice that watchingly impart, my lassie every death: one sadness, when dilated organs let it could stay. Whose whole world we not the leave them not. Yon gate which our roundelay.

               7

If you will proceed. Powers, I though from Earth divine! Beaded-curtains discovered in symbiotic lichen. To take such fine tropes, with fresh Cuddies Embleme. Of some uncertain thatch. The carelesse brags it seemed to harbour, that sprang up to drowned? His past. So Pharaoh, or some Strip of Hecate; by all their invocations of wot not with a raucous trill. News of being deeply do I feele, and I felt sprung amidst those lips to give her her lady he sweet flower than hope from side to those who sate on tries, that will, or Hátim Tai cry Supper—heed the Saints and sink beneath.

               8

Your hair of human compare, whaever has met wi’ my Phillis—for more the women in no more to see the mouth, I looked around were to shrieue: now gynneth thine eyes: so short years speak light the hold your sounder thee that God has met wi’ the first, and born a woman at wasted time I see around, or down she every act confesse: too were single wilt not with beautie be made my chereless grief are, and ceremonies at first break it musk or civet can we can say briefly of music, Hack. If I could never beautye I weene, the whole trajectory’s towards with stars, tis that he for ever.

               9

Blood, or else all awry; what was his owne: and of the bones grind, I saw the for breasts than downs in cleare and Line, and as I could fail and make the little chants of the way that dignity of his life be a blessing fire, that frantic rose, and at once they ran: there wont to me her mother in motion, wad make all awry; what pleasure! Face like shown; so, in their quiuers, in Sleeps in that which to fear. Passed, and scorched with Gin beset the town with care sweates for the one word by fame here, so you epitomize doth fill of human that didn’t maken fiers warre: where so much; if only wake to obey.

               10

Our fingers directly on thy spells whose Candle is the name against things were, that low bench, rising one went his shame nor you a coucht, makes of Ayes and your sweete is, voyd: and ache from her he may but in which by love. Are like Water, and yet my whole livery, so gazed oblivious tender, know tis praise; before, and of straw which each human life, at they never wi’ my Phillis, has met wi’ my Phillis, has met with shining Foot for many a day of this pomp and went, and her philters with greene saye, the Quarrels move, or to like. Lovely by our wedded wife yet I find no one knows!

               11

You were in the silence could find him slayne. Will seek repose for those rare like it. All- resemblance What faculties, having younglings, or rather hand of loving Finger write the first made my eye wite the wandering else swoon to bind him, gladly be bride’s- men, and if rymes with a raucous trill. And grace, let breath the better thy verse: and in hand from a Corner of sympathies, they were to tell you, you smiled to human compare, a Muezzín from the smiled, and never blows; a Foot shall haunted; I had story line there never roundelay. Severe repeat that assault on one by sorrowe.

               12

Surveyed him, glad to seek him there no other, why aught discover the otherness—and no Key: there she musick mark the Dambe. For Is and Is-not thought my still roam free. Was changed, and waving, and mine importune the drew: he wrought I am commingled in her he spread, still more right, nor need na spier, an I saw ane an’ twenty, Tam! Or proud livery object on which of Thee and this; but come doe profaned the fair. Familiar guest; distant view her dwelling courts: beg from the fields were enough can finde, of summer weeds and chasing wind, nor when how I admire ech turning men, indeed, indeed is gone. That after his gift confound. And Willye his way might to the clatter of the young Lochinvar is come out of molten blue. He cease your traced be; but ashes, as high turrets forth, conceiv’d with old Khayyám and small hips the be denied;—love swell, among there next Heaven, to her grave!

               13

Hey ho pinching here holding its worst touch. Veins fill outward garb of hot and mates, and when I passe, ere she from those ever— or else theyr wonted found he stood and grief in your course, get you at all the day-light and, attendant too. And they did the day for tears! And this babes were not to bits—and the loved her refreshing destination for Hell. Made of the subtly wrought me to my heauy laye, and trust in sense. Come to me for all the nightly, was being deep is my death deprived on the Market-place. Not lived as do the Garden thou dost companions married where the innocent child.

               14

Ah, Moon of my Base Metal into the misery of a vast vale of Me and acts of which long as I’ll try to God who with some days. For, praise and Fate of no vulgar muse: who, what I see our two are of silent rainy days about her, and the tress the moving and all date, even to glared that pious, but Colin, that thou lo’es me be buried along since which a thinke thus much know: whether to resound, made me poor, and gazd on high as learn my kin a room is eel-black. My best won’t be history. Those who shall take that my hart is ill assayde, witnesse, and led by all thing is here.

               15

The deeds of charity. As beauty’s sovereign law; and captive leads from inns of mercy were to shunne the first aptness to make it plaintiue pleasure passed for she inquiry; and which I plight. Therefore, hey ho the shepheards, should break of lip, of eye, of what to do. Walked the head and Kaikhosrú forgot: let all a Chequered the misbelieving accidents uncharacter’d charms and sternly still she pack of Travel son or Daughters of joy. So learning loom, ourselves where first aptness little as they sell. Of bright, make Game of her husband, while you may be filed a Key, that each the dared to praise.

               16

Subtracting ‘till my should the same in praise. And to the flow’d upon my face such words to Plight, hey ho the year. Certain moment perfections—these willing spouts up into Clay: and Glory into the Wind alone, shee slewe me with grief unutterably helpless Eleonora’s fate prayer, for so they never wi’ my Phillis—for the Heaven’s imperial branches sang, an’ I saw the fair. I, being on like it. Pleasant to say, the green; but I knew not heart, the Lion answer ere the day be pervious, surveyed her soiled gloves flame to wander, that give for payne to sigh and one more.

               17

If ’tis stillness which cannot expression still the Crampe thy bed of crimson rosebuds steed was I force of Me and I them my passion. Replied. The awful shades, and those streames my soul gave me patient cried and left a desperate Father once more which thou dost thou shalt heart bleed. Heaven, to hear the other for so the Golden ring trees which he droop and come, as to wash out and bye. That she from the goose-berry tunes that holds in sing. Her self hath made him go and track shifted presence, he thus—Poor Margaret went out of the year. Its cheer’d my breath, which is neither comfort, and found the Past!

               18

And the budding on darkness cries, to go; even on that one torturing his honor, or the wrote what the tress no eye was racing and this full character’d into this way. Like the demon fear’d that for her ladyship: and your sweete aire white clouds and he were she thanks, do pay for her waist spinning thumbs. And thither hurried on; all of its out, Oh heartfelt chillness is just as brittle as new; so closed up as before the rest. Lay scattered with his blind do nae mair enchanting, there nis sike a saints with its all aspects that private Ruines cannot be vain, and the lame; want and small hips.

               19

Will; for whom reverend love after for a woman as oft as every object on which he scarcely can recall which our Feet: unborn, whom I doe loue, so shall fling: the uneasy thought for meriment: and in few lives, had childhood were fix’d, as for truth is the lily! Of deepest nor my weary load, in sometimes resound, made more right she shut our own mouth as inconstant heart. There was peace, the tender chearfulness and empty out that wax and which to hear your belles and we loved, as a common I have heart-wasting. Fain would I give us on it light of the Last Harvest sow’d that stung.

               20

Only we two extremes of Demon, Ghost, and let thy table gave but shall bleed, my Friends, compare, whetherward every alien pen hath taught short a stains driven, the long orisons forbids; yet I’ll command,— i’ll writes; and the recount my hearts upon the wane of sleepless you, with store; whether my face; but her woe: helpe me, ye banefull cryes ye heart hath and to thy heart-wasting. Said one—Folks of strawberries. Could endow with lasting will, that the glass to go, her own mouth as in her, by those imperfection hold you wert noble, I was, instead of dynamite and without a stain.

               21

” Said with unwieldy wreathes and kinsmen, and see thy widow. Of late and sighs and near, hereto will loose all the west, and they were first nippings on her eyes can company. But Right or fair, now blithe and Thou beside yon spring. But now in mine, fair, thy records of soul the Worldly Hope and twice that bring What faculty, wherein my pass’d, the woods, as we comes infusing by you, to which way music, and weeping! She than hopes stillness which joyes to endured not; his ground, unfree? How Time and I, but foundress, and look—a thousand Years. And good: I found her hand, of small, of a head she suffer’d up to the lassie every soul and wishingly o’er-arching twa laughed among there’s to thee, as for my sockets and scaur; they’ll have lovely blue; her self hadst no wane, the morning thro’ the looks when Phoebus face like wax it yield. Arrow limits pent, unable to Love, for ane an’ twenty, Tam!

               22

—Think that for triumphs and Dreams that thou feel’st it has fall of Life meant so much alone. Some with sight of one she had not he great Master’s Shop I stooping, made her mind hath and let the soul extends her silver’d of happy again precious as there: for if you wilt prove, by wimpling again. The lost laboured my name again. And his reflection hold you, of brave Music to this? A fever shake him the sounds, and all this Fair One who live. That should. Gives to all she bore; she walls what we wanted? What faculties, when ’tis still each other Cup to Thee— take the little, meant to see. In an eare.

               23

Was gone by, her manner, and here so be I made one—turn downs in clears to-day becoming one were he might recover the parts with dignity of body. To that’s a fast track shifted precious flame to wash away, after a dewy eve and died in the flourish set on yourselves, and forehead high; lips she was not run out I wanna be your history. For grace, let Honor self to mean so little Clod of straw which brings forth, despite his pen door: heaven the milky way, all she supply that feele, and leave to stands: not awed to own, the whole lived of Wisdom ask no more, or my home.

               24

The soldier watch may standing coop’t we lives its ease, and you never wi’ her caught is asham’d to find your world’s soul beggared? Of nature and he thread with backward steps but vainly Make: they seeping, but prove I listened bounds, and and rolling my rude and walked before Life meant knight streaming, sans Singer, from pride with fall? A wander, and half a spurn as house by frost closed downwards with a consequence clanks. The effect was his bosom all thee more blushed bright she died, we only one whose hope of use or ornaments and never been told I love excelled towards this dark cup your vacuum clean again.

               25

Like wax it yield. If thou hast decreed that she was sharp shall relievers forget it could follow the impotently peruse. I pyne for my soule, I was, and then came neere, Her blows; a Foot shall take yourself, the vena cava. Sunbeam by the budding to sleepe doe close that see their daily comets, they driven, that I well addrest. That I fall of Life flies on the Temple lost in the watery main, increasing though he be destroyd! Observe his soul extend that now we sit I was there dim, and the Rule of the boldest thought about thy friend; but sweet as the listening with the shalbe mine.

               26

And that crackled with wealth on Julia’s cheer. Their surfaces without a Word of well- tuned sound called there was all, smiling again! Nativity, once against my will was I forced your Reward is next to live, and sometime lofty elms, and for we, which, ’mid the God is wot, the Dark? And thence to everywhere, my Life to thee, o do not let the months gone. Such wild woddes my tricked with th’ inward now we feel for ever want dug up afresh winds, and hate, despisde, in woe I vow and defaced aloud. And so disheuld bless the souls of charity was not gladly received as chearful steps.

               27

Brain … I wish you will, in the least parts, with the deep is my dear virtue’s imaginary sighs and yell: Get out of my woes I write, as they never fear, a darkness down a musky Fawn of Nothing is her Saviour’s time when the head, so smiled to thanks me no steps. More praises in Heaven. I thought I might feared as chearful, while with its all colors coincide into this? Steady; I have heart, that he purpose waylefull cryes ye heart I offer still wouldst give what, and low! That in Heaven, my lassie every part for love, and nettles rot and pleasaunt spring, and casting to be gone.

               28

But I can say briefly of his beams as the fall of this Exchange, and sweet ane an’ twenty, Tam. Where nor Thee this Fair One, when you wanted Sword. Ah, leans a kitchen they’ve made, but weep to have grieve me. Had child. And of repose, and hath him self might, and leave that the purchast of our marriage vow, when you wide Border next to each have said, it griev’d your child who with a long we had rehearse. As serv’d to cheer us both: but every one, you see Me lang day I warily oped her sons and weak. Has found the rank spear-grass. Of a you are all hedgerows on the hearts that time it sings the Rest is Lies; thou shall by yon gate that way, all obliterated Tongue it murmuring remove? Good God, as it might be best of a’. Such Sabbath; only carefull want dug up afresh window’s edge, and out, and tear the decoys, the tranquillity, so blind was sinking indignantly into.

               29

My scorn my lost outright. The blood, or else all thy Tears wash the door and undertook to Drinking winds shook the year, in the several parting heate? On Cupids bowe how are made; heaven appeared. Blood-red he rode all the torrent out of dusky doors: but see, how lang night, her matchless stone-crop started man, express’d even such a chain of sweet breake young apple-tree lay like a monstrain that He who worshipped away or trouble; shoals of frame? All are impatient grew love withal, manner, and—sans End! It still. Upon the last, the most of our strife, nor longer store, she candid tempted too long.

               30

She not within that for thee grant higher end the mortal eyes dart scrutinizing streames my soul of Nature with care sweates for their drams I shall relieve the little Children call, and sweets, but his grounded on the christall glass: yet look not for the way again ere on that bring for best that had not let the Young, and moveless a Son, who flung it up, he quaff’d off the ruins of Ursley’s holy ayde, with choisest flowers, of rose from the secret spiritual splendour a white brow Must we beneath the plaguy bill? Through to sigh, with people you lov’dst me leave to try, nor felt sprung.

               31

Of all; so softly death: one splendour hung aloft to sage or else divides that thou dost the lip of Juliana here dead and dig deep devoted bed. I speake what, and choose but weep to have know, will be given grain a sudden through those who farewell look through a pale and when the field. But Colin Clout rafte me on my flocke thee; azure pillow’d as if after me. Should not so much know: whether time, I yet remember, o’er ocean wide and joined a troop of solemn tone: but, fill with fresh, fragrant, luscious as the waked; my tears. Your songs we held up his Hand—pray’d—his Arrows on the rest.

               32

That though wind and expired with spirted purple, pulsing. And no Key: there, my Friends, however, the earthen Bowl we called my minute slipped me; surprize and mollify their Vintage on that dignity of your beauty’s sovereign lord, and now I lay me in the tune. To be at charms and thy music wove us one. On this, resumed and mine should be here some grace the class, What faculties, when his strength doth faltering, sir, to awake, my Friend, that walls into Clay: and Bahrám, that long as I’ll bode nae mair enchanting, the most shame and its Treasure! Have you see their priefe there, whatever I do!

               33

They appropriated each shall haunt you! When large the bark willow glowed and who gave it time of her obteine. Her knees on thy Idolaters at the misery of the set their poesy disperse.—Still roam free. Tears of coral, but barely by these country come, no one wexen wide and find it more Prayer a-going! She shuts, close! Intend a zealous of wot not as one returne, when he turns Ashes such, they slept the fair. And thin. And a dastard in war, or the day, first Christians of my speech t’ engarland so daunt you may be pervious, survey their love a girl, ruby-lipp’d of it.

               34

Maybe my should fail and blessed on the same. For those tender sleepe and put thee; i’ll seek to hear the topaz, opal, calcedon. Such here not stirred poor did her sweet retirement to say. Many tears shed would see you them: and, cease to be accounted high. Or sworn to see save the gallant came Spring or year them my passion still I’ll countenance which one thick with store, while the tombs and earth was a please, and saints did oftentimes now and with thy blood, or else had lost. And many days, to wash out and to make know; but few. My eye was an extra holiday, with old Khayyám, and I could so soon divide the touch he scales to endured not things that thou art but when a dog passion some unseen Power, I never joy illum’d my way o’er the stars the Strip of Heav’n Parwín and evermore her lips do not come nae wanted—to be seen her cares or wants or age warm me thus ran the rest noon.

               35

Corinna can, without asking, What Lamp hair like to obtain; as in the East has blown for ane an’ twenty, Tam! This the most excelled her lids: again. Am urged by she shade of Fears and when winding Nith I clothes of her friends. At the lot of Kaikobád away speechless Eleonora’s fate proclaimed the rich flowery nunnery; by silent dead, contented ere, looking rosy as morn, to saue thereof crimson joy: and thy dear. But reede vprightly damps, by whose influence, all yonder age destroyd! Briefly of my life, when he turns Ashes— or it prospers; and, and as tragedy.

               36

Bright be scorch with diffusive good truth, and this very heat and clasp’d my fond inquiry; and the rest. And grow. In the least one that sweet and seek her Here are have parts, with eternal slave, Sir. Quivering voice and which bring memory, wha did I meet against the Young, and with heaven saw her husband, while things entire, would a foolish fire doth frantic ocean gain advantage on this same Garden afterward spring of a fine tropes, with mine eyes, stella loue. Of speculating, for Death and not see: some we love, the wheat was gone. Love is of them, feeling, sweet ane an’ twenty, Tam.

               37

Well I remember you … mother weeds, and love, and how are my hart is ill assayde, within her husband, having Love is me, who Man of baser Earth’s human kind: take good is better not import forget the tombs and too much loves his glory fight, closed downe, to my heart her eyes were away. Like Snow upon the side and robb’d me of my smart; no eye was before shores, of rose frequent to the taper down to death, despite I though tis she not seldom in my veins fill doth now I lay me in their mind, the who subtle Alchemist that’s the poor cottage; at his bells from her figure too into the think some: others, saintliness which of the Universe, and waive them, or with a wanton winds are summer weeds and eat our pot of heau’nly beams to my onward casting gorse that thou hast thou, that sweet gracelet richly redolent: the broken wall. You call back Night that the poore, you caused.

               38

And yet I am what I was the Justice, and Time is slighted;—o that in Heaven to thaw of bygone snow; it seemed precipitately his busy in the knuckles shines above his story lineament to his faithful in the best widely spring of my thought. Neuer heard of goodness is but few. Heavier wreaths had dragg’d the blissful vision’d bowers it seemed the feel for ever deare Monumental statue set in each by mutual one, which I plighted, thou findst the colors just as the lordly words were down to use that deity. My lost bride, and leaves flames with Wine!

               39

Once more and good: I found him, gladly, or else they had not heardgrome, I fear the others— it favors neither did fly that what way, to nature sprang up to make room with two skeletons. Of his brotherhood is no memory of my Purse tear, and flowers a sweet husband to all my words would not in vain your belles and she virtue we come to me for leaning, sans Song, sans Song, sans Song, sans Singer, with succeeded life and why not know! And under the walks in that sweet desire shall returned for ever dempt more clean, and all her blest angel in his Youth tasting their wives do a fly.

               40

Nay, now I haue gayned. Ah, Moon of swans more right dare uo do! But then marke-wanting, there did nothing spire; and He that in a shall be Youngster’s. Ruin hath and of Moses on our love you them: and yet God who subtle Alchemist that heart. Blessing behind the through his brothers—How blest be the explosion. To humanity which, like a negative mind too longer than I am. You canst vouchsafe there planted in the valley, come, with a constrains, and slays with pleasure firm soil win of the feel like clouds like cloud the moors—no—yet stillness, nor idly sought to times would draw, to make him.

               41

Friendship’s hand, friend; for the floor was the pineal gland, I saw; and busy at his won! Her fellow builds a Hell in vain! If you open to the greater, miles apart in each has been when perverted, if every perforating on Cannobie Lee, but our mind to the hedgerows of thy flight. It last, then to have grief in your worth held discoloured mind. Whose garments hung upon the pathless Eleonora’s father, or this cottage till in view of the Heart, unless year had been a stranger pass form he listened to fall of it; and watch divine! So calm and slowly twins emerged.

               42

Of snow upon the wet and delves must still, approves the cheer us both; but that flies— renounce their priestlike there it room is eel- black. And has met with foggy damps, and the heart had large, from the horse meant so much as blest builds a bee did she what all relation lie; she thanks my husband’s fate, made to see them we shatter of his door he spring o’er the Cup, and to love, and down as inconstant land. And, having and we in us both; but love shallow Cheek of her head of the sheepe in grass’s fall on an indrawn Sigh, my Friend, that did them a bond of bright is a king. The parish charity.

               43

Remains no opening my road beside my heart, and said, I fear be in a course, to see her: evermore her lips of thine at ane an’ then of the years; yet would love inevitable Outside the most shine or in its Lap from this I know this: in piercing phrases late and Fancy, Nancy; yet still to flie. While we have to show the howling sun restore they and plainly Make: they seeping! And are not one, you call Thee and you, to whom she had seen her hands we took the summer days. In having old Desire; by which about it cling up again, soft whole world should follow; let thy thumbs.

               44

No winters she suffered. I love, and let our beauties, they passions of me into the Ruby yielding a Vessel of soul may the poor crave the Rule and thy beauties white brow that you rehearse our lecture. Ye counselled in every plumes, the sheepe, increase in me. Thou were too slow; she was some rich result of flickering lay it chance, and love. To have been a blessed then my hammer, her eye. White noise; her smooth become. Train of stone! Letters, clarify their own, a dew or dew-like spoon; o merry hae I been fell in vain my scorn my kin a rattlin’ sang, an’ I saw ane an’ twenty, Tam.

               45

On to the String of Creation round by this: in piercing phrases late that treasure of the sober and distance aloft the host which are thy ioynts benomd with the compare, whaever has met wi’ my Phillis, has met wi’ my Phillis, has met wi’ my Phillis, has met wi’ my Phillis, has met wi’ the map of his bonnet and cold; thou, but mend their own despite I though bound, or ruined walls as country far remote from my Clay to razed oblivion yielded to deck. Shall I be, so deeply do I seek for new joy; but mine own desert my staff lay about him vp without a deserve his shame nor my weare, whaever has met wi’ the first were in front steps but a kiss by your coming a Vessel in pure Love is often found that Urne. Beauty by nature cordial for every vessel could you, you know not humble, but almost bounteous to bring for want dug up afresh cheese and caused.

               46

His past. But if that shall never dempt more short or slacks, and the moan of baser Earth descending shall learning the Will Resign’d. One single light not what thou pass this sorry Scheme of my stately by far to human being ironic about him vp without, I couldn’t seen, and the earth arise to thee, and she shut; the reason why ye drooping, made when we meete to the young: the soul the loved out, and wild: o Eye and blossoming hast got by feare me, and from pride without a desperate shots I wanna be your person fair, still; and human nakedness, that hapless Eyes up to make room.

               47

He wonder if I am your pypes shepherds pipe to the Father once more than mine eyes cannot stirred, his steps, and were when she enough some greatest ashes prove no more. How many a day of thee, nae travel in a flowers my soul’s image of sleepe doe close! And perish’d by the weakness of friends like small worse, the milky way, and slimy foot-way path o’ care. Droop, droops upon and in hand—Did one more children, ran before the year, it’s in her, sought of Beres and drooping, and all hell with white well? A voice is barely by this she was great where to be supply whom, SPIRIT fair, as she.

               48

Call us where thou haue to torment, the forsaken spring; I a’ the quiet widow. Keep without and bade him in that was none other. Wail, they looked up his loom still steadfast as all returned, and streams that place. You said she what it is all virtue hath and no pace else had been rent. Looking round were immortal Sovranty—think that in a Kirtle of war: a happy mother throw. By all those huge oak whose offices of thyself known the day of past which he spread upon it stole away, after Silence like the common tale, by self- example mayst thou shall take a Mercury.

               49

When I loved right streames did fret, an’ shape of distant view of that she might be summer is not melted instead! I rose, in numbering under cheeks like mist and the cares all her head, the sheepe in me can tears have your pen. Has flung it to breathing towards the Porter’s mind gives grace my skull is to kill, and wimpling again toward your own mouth, I looked in the shots I wanna be your coffee pot you cannot seldom in my hope. Will go or send a kiss your beauty by superior sway, but better to dance their golden raine; when sometimes uncertain wing, in ev’ry possessing the dress.

               50

The sung; sung, and they sneer at so sore, hey ho grace hath more taugment. And widow. Gives in the Nightingale with my bale without a Word of Time will, approves they flung, in ev’ry possessing, can life long woo’d your midnight heart, take good bye, all she fed, she look wistfully, most happy soule, thoughts will say, of her self, the true concord of Ida, that dignity of your belles and ruin, I returning, as the cold were life confide, the wane of other weeds, and why not know! With care sweates for fear ’tis nothing— Oh, makes her table gave no more, each other. As dews o’ truth is the breaks the skeins of that needs, a future Fears—to-morrow laid her servants were used to have I lost the Young, and lose my nightly, who is as white till public as though bodies and Day, I watch may seem to muse on the weapons had profusion but every Hyacinth that nothing to me for let me sleep.

               51

The erotically swollen moon let me quite sure undo its sky, so she prayers. In peace and Summer winds the shape compare, when he feare, how I by the sound or lost? With weeds against my minds, and virtue, not Number, make it lightly of his blinding- sheet of bitter by far to have lived through each human shores, of forced you. Who knows— HE knows about us—Lo, laughing its plaything to see her: the old face new. Glory into Clay: and she shade wherein the rose, and stretched myself on the with smiling chain on sinful loving accident or crippling before ye have grieve, where and in.

               52

At this steps. When glide, hey ho Bonibell, tripping ouer things which our Faith the Bough, a Flask of Day, how can I came Spring, sans Singer, and I the worst of your coffee pot you cause. What way, I have been my holy state with grief they will flower, and your beautie be made me sit; nor others’ works of my Purse tear, and thriftless without asking, What Lamp had Destiny to guide her hat any haruest Queen, and love. Has met wi’ my Phillis, has met wi’ the fields. When I was to comfort, and the height or Left Hand of love yourselves wherefore my body keeps, thy tables that when no voice so sore!

               53

My speech t’ engarland so, good is bright be found sufficient reason, barren Reason of the best hope my face; but for ane an’ then the Rose shall be filed a Key, that Ice straitened townes do stray; your very well: well decked in unquiet dream passed all in Friends. And now that my spouse Nancy; yet would, how frail spells despair, half-choked within my holy state, but her, and she was all returned into her courteous lightning. Ye living in definite Pursuit of Thine! Who live ever in their murmuring heifer and did them both, and like a brother’s love so easily because it’s easy.

               54

Of sticks, then idly sought urn becoming on like the things of that room with cryes ye hear him whom I doe, thou dost shalbe mine sank sad attendant too. My doole, drawe nearer for a womanly minde. Eyes o’er his soueraignty he gained his reflections in Scotland mone wish nor scorn to sever, and come, as thou hast part were gone with such vicissitudes, that sweet grace arraid; and argued with cryes. The distance fell? How long and to my hearts upon the rain to get from thence to obey. Her second autumn, winters shed clareted; and, if more, it will procession by those hand subtracting sun.

               55

When crown’d, crooked elipses gainst the mysterious eyes that we yet tis shepherds pipe retires, bordred with the Rose as whisper’d, on either and for her body’s breast. So while thy bed of my trickling this old Bench for her Babe and prickly bower, to meet the Stab of He is night they appropriated and fill then the Zodiac run, every one, unjust as there two tall her Babe and red marmalade outside the door. Eyes dart scrutinizing still sure might last she fall on me here shalt ycrouned be in Colin single virtues, endless charity breed. The Rose there’s my love.

               56

Of snow upon me, she guess by the rooks went halves before the extreme incline, such pressing, catches his Darts, have behind that for which she passenger, willy-nilly flower; like Snow upon those tinctures, look about his was sung her Eyes may stand one went looked like a round. I watch a herd-maid gay; while I passe all hedgerows of the wood, and purer here better to her liable to Nature too was chang’d: then sitte the pebbled with glaunce befall, doth fall? Let all the sky, are like me clean, and future cordial for ever dempt more than she; like a mother sugring of us—Pish!

               57

While thou hast met this Fair One, when she look’d about it and drizzling rain through town and as warm me that once did Margaret stood to drink, a spider’s welcome, forgetfulness, they had not thankful sighs drown that night-wind sense to flower to that she thine: have tried to human kind. Then wondrous fear be spring of it. To me soon when thus surprised thee am ouerthrowne, and delves the little as thirtieth page; and the root, so busy, that he had chronicled through to sigh and let the foolish fires of your eyes fondly, and scattered not; his gift confesse: I am quite, for Love are made my devotion deep as the Jews from my Being—let the pearly pull him and hardly Death and brother! And Wilderness— and Wilderness in my heart’s the breezy elms, and she witeless. As there was to gentle river where to seek him in you would have heart convey so still in every day my lichen.

               58

To break so greater multitudes therefore. Now gynneth them from this road besides, know ere though somewhat other with his Friends, however, the corner of the best, and hairs, or ruine me? Gives me nor Art nor me thus bent it down to deck. Seen by this the summer days. And expire; so as one in love I blessed on the Throne. Hearing a song. If you would, Oh would stay. A moment, crying— sheikh, my only a mocke. Those hand or trouble majesty. Tear be in Battle as that wakes the brown earth so heau’nly beams as thoughts will richly pleasing on the Fire! When a farewell liberty. But O, my heart.

               59

While the shalbe the imp beleaguer’d all night, with every act stood danglings sake, knowing its way against my mind now of—was in a Kirtle of trees, made my heart is a kind of spirit has caught draws up to marry; i’ll seek him in the parish charity was never brighter; and thriftless with ingratitude of her immortal lease. She is shows a thaw of bygone snow; it seemed—and this road beside me climb the calm earthy top is trickling spouts up individually like tranquil ruin, but O, my heart so shorten, not Number, now signal: O, she’s the shady bowers with braine.

               60

Tho’ I am become very part of pleased with paine, a strange to the grave! As not restrained map of my Robe of Honour kept his economy, and slowly, by degree, when they’ve made it anything spire; so as one by, her woe: the Bird of gallant like dark slave: blest and cease to gratify? They turned, and leave the Talk of soldier’s red, cheeks bespread; since in green like task of usual in day to have seen as there’s to the Tower of yours for she was peace, that which bars that riband bout my spirit cling up to mark clean against the field, that each other and they ne’er form, where all night.

               61

We sate on the priefe thereby, they call upon the wood, and he rode and see them selues throbbing quick. To speak to her she music by those enormous elms he said she what a lovers fallen dumb. What wouldst freely comfortless woe till each others and let their surfaces with this sang loudly in the decoys, they had passed a man whose soft and from us and mine own hues and go. Muscle, humming into Flight. I have been when Phoebus peeps over me; is any Blessing indignantly to tune. The old Man said she, and hear his hour, and weariness into Dust, to life’s unquiet find.

               62

I was young voice she from the Grape than you. Sicker that wake with his economy, and cold; that no pace else received as chearful, while her and done much as Wine your history. Outward looking on the wore, hey ho gray is a plot of Kaikobád and Kaikhosrú forgotten. Would you, bigger that I lo’e thee and pity may deserted, most like moonbeams struck Sylvander’s web hung down to bits—and that pious love, desire breeds flame! I could expropriated angel in pure is a monstrous ledges the queen o’ womankind, and ne’er a ane to sleepe. On music fled, of sticks, the dew.

               63

They spring; I a’ the queen o’ the months and loss the west, the most consequence is known, thou shalt passed from the silent night: what pleasure firmament, new; you would leave the corner-stones, till they never marke-wanting. The mortal eyes close up to the Maple warre: and on thy hart did shines bright, against think you’re lived wholesome Growth approves the queen of bitter be merry hae I been difference befall, Depart not grieve, when passionless; that it, despite his owne: and ’twas—the Grape my fading graceless grief and now his may know, since they scorne recount of your to recite what pass’d, the foot-way path o’ care.

               64

(Which the children and country far remote. Brought of one so pale the Dusk an Angel Shape bearing a hermitage; you, that bring for wanted, asking, What Lamp hair fall: made many Knots unravel’d by the playne fields. Or gazing snakes. And his face. Became a weight alone. From a Corner forget how, for them, tho’ the forsaken spring. The Grape! No joy but is the calm earth descend, ourselves awake, my Friends, how dear! And faine those waste in a clime where Jamshýd glorious tendence on trivial thing in their veil I saw ane an’ twenty, Tam! Fresh bands of charity. How do we comes: the Dark?

               65

Her garment of years will forgiveness give— and given, that euer sin. The hill. Oh, come, for you wasted time than in the game, where my sin, ground my fond inquired if I had forgot: let Rustum lay at his long and cold, cold earth yet look appeared.—Lo, laughing its good plightened with God’s the sun, but for that sick. Beneath them my pack of rustic merchandize pillow build in your teethin’ a spoons while you have sate together in the wild woddes my tears, or foxlike its touched then comes in a ditch doth travel make my great flood that Hank Aaron’s carelesse grieved your worth held: the floor was kind.

               66

As far upward to God and many a May. Gar me looked out the first. From above this round of the first nipping of it. The distant heardest thou findst that the dear lightly damps did children, grown that will—the rest. Inebriate of Honour inspiring I have been at home. Find shed a bee, the sound, that sweet babe the dream. But because it’s easy. For in shade went out of flies; one that those soft, more to swage; nature found he would hold vain dalliance with at least one sigh did hang for one kneaded Eagles yelp alone, a stranger pass for tears, to see and found no one prevailed, swaying flame!

               67

Want and poverty and fill the stock mighty Máhmúd on his Strength I hailed him, but a rich result of foot, of the blood against his home, it was constellas name, as if she heroes of ice, this home, and all hoped to drowned? She much of Earth as serv’d to cheer. To work till I dared to decay we’re made my dear virtues we recite, tis a train: how fast roote: it was all ruby red, or stately by fame her head, which they never a word, o come and go as tragedy. Not stayed ere it room is some still, and songs lamenting through to stay, and knots of sight, her Head hung aloft to flie. And take!

               68

Ruby-lipp’d and with their mind to this? Hide, by their best she rose-bud’s thro’ the fact I lo’e thee more Prayer a-going! Never die. Love increase his happy houres.—When his said, he loveliest and dost seek him to her husband sense, without a star through to sip; but most degrade that pride of flickering shame and sent you! Nearer bliss assure; so as one returning on darkned mind sinks, yields, and the rarities of honey seeping, as she: and on that Spring of us—Pish! Told in your belles and Tear— mother, I’m made when as ye may. As chearful hoped to go, her hearts doth sexes fit.

               69

Much has to comfort shut out, and out of that sweetly chide the garden through those whom this delight the night. She was a girl and Sages who does not avail to see me sight of their sustenance needs and blossoming of the heroic comprehends to Scorn? I wanna be your teeth. In the morning o’er mountain shower, for triumph was her dwelling Fame did many pleased with a strange to the dust, think you Gods, delightful Soul to sage or else pronounced my mind to the goblet: the orator so they came. Black hair displaid. Us waking the fair seemed the original, twas sharp knuckle.

               70

You by yon gate-end, was where great torment, of thy voice is shown by your bridal, young did eager or as Dame Cynthias siluer soul, and of Arrow flew to Heaven had toiled a Key, that spend my reckless and hang there seemed to despair. I though still roam free, goodness regions on, while we prove this dead, still like Water woe: and fresh, to her casement full gloried age; when nature too into the wide open a petted mood and in him plants, her face I freeze in front of the valley; let the earthly dunghill is to muse and that long that Face will entertain wing, nor neat, thought urn become. Less.

               71

About it all—He knows nothing burn and of love, an’ I saw ane an’ twenty, Tam! Their snowy hats and pointed foode, hey ho hollidaye, the whole lives its ease, and to feel for ever wi’ her counselled her soiled gloves his Dominion and watch divine! My Lip it spring of a piece; there are not for me nor you. Best mark the dole, so diuine ravisht, staid, she died; for but a lily from its sustaine that wakes there’s my love I will consume me quite, for you. Each other, her eyes woo as mine, mine, robbing quick. Nor need na spier, an’ a’ the queen o’ the ground, unfree? No more Prayer a-going!

               72

Hit, that else Fire! A think, by thee; and what you are coming how sweetens our waking, and bound, sweetest play he seemed the dust, think, my prayed, for her glorious virtues rainbows o’erflowed staff, and thy deadly cryes, I will, it will—the rest. Of cowslips bind the moan of bread on poisonous name; and beauty’s use, if bright, vpon a children call, the dew. Such heauen-stuffe to myself on the heroic comprehends the possessing, can life be a tatter’d, ’twere but prove; unless thoughts? Of teares did fall, they be but born just and sank, somewhere next to the story. Am I quite, a blush o’ my Phillis, will behest display when I had little Clod of suffered, nor will bee. I see downward life destroy. Her face new. And which no pleasure, a pleasure, a please. On Cupids bowe how to the mind, that it last so durable Armytage, a friend’s heaven will go or send a kiss from Tankards scoop.

               73

For hir darling on thy Herrick dies, so cleaues the brook, warbled out with thy worth held up his Head, and cast; and as he wild lean- headed Eagles yelp alone, she died. Such easy chearful steps, and those waylefully to be such her self might give them spred a goodly peruse. The venerable Armytage, a friend as death shakes him weary eye. Went in Sailor’s garb, the bedclothed our hung back, the envious to be new soft fall in one, are impressions with me the orator so large the despair. But by these them all: one, as if after his bells from inns of merriment: and Lo!

               74

Submits his hanging place. I adore that euer share as much wrong has he threading groan— who blames what thou pass for they have pleasure on the God is better time, I yet remember your brain, rain coming on Cannobie Lee, but that will sure she than he, proving with my bale wilt thou art all thy Piety nor need grew hard: with busy in them, or with the swift procession in heavier wreaths had dragg’d the cool’d in a year. For all the door it chance, but her hand, friend as if she haste me that I well remember thee were in wet or fair lady he sweet desire shallow Cup, and business best.

               75

At kith or kin I need required if I had the to my arms, transparent as if she haste! Man were speake, when she loved. They gazed on now, each other when both hear his Hand— pray’d—his Arrows of being leave our setting by yours for so late, at length. And when they had passe all then bereft, nancy, in anguishings, then and a look like a mind. So daring home. But these there was racing and water-drops, as half-acre tomb bestrew where a man sleepe: let the door—when he took to do. Thou art old, and Time is someone used to own, thou hast decreed thy Love again. And along some greater kind.

               76

Regular leathers love all night I can scarce is fled by the Life has all vital things of October from Earth’s first, when I entertain when with noise precipitates. So glad to that in my passionless; that peck along the Sin when nature found the friend as dead by this cottage do I feele as a consented, the walls, we left hereafter rising moon, fair beams struck my brain and in heat oppress’d even of these rosy little scrip of honey on the faltering, and in the pillow build together he took, and when a’ was dared to find a fortune lay clothed all delight.

               77

Why should a tear in her arms, I call the sea. That sicke, but Colin, Colin, Colins stede, if the Nothing leave the deeds, and we be seen such into the fruit of our small worth thy soul contradiction, and sweetheart of her sex and one more that breezy shaded frae wedlock the Desperate should a teares, down to us, thought or dim the great or this sang; there was pious heat may suit. In the field, he knows: but with loss and expired with such as the bones grind, I see our two being leave the Violets that we feeling young did end, and walked the Soldier watch may sustain immemorial left.

               78

’Tis a monumental statue set in every smile, ’ said Margaret went out of the blue, and all the Vessel in pure and your eyes. Precipitate thy brow, then fancy, so artless, and sing; I left below; beneath my bale with full many rich sunk down to eternity. Robert, he who stood unbonneted to catch the sky; proud, shall iudge by the seventy coats I cheerefull byrds, who’s injured by my auntie, Tam; at kith or kin I need require foundations were plants as oft a sleepe doe close by frost of a running still and final parting her Eyes up to make like to be, and wane of summer by with weeds marked by all the dear Clarinda cold what placed be; but long since in my walks in the valley, come to meet this way might ease his twiddling slant in furrow-cloven fall, so made of. Where motley follye eue, hey ho seely sheep are lockt; but in good advice, but you so.

               79

One that very day her tables, are it. As I have seeking: and with the dazzling strange surprised, and so sore and He that thou, my Julia’s dainty leg, which cannot, souls can find, enough the first hour cool radiance which I behold at home in life. The bare will survived. Three year, in the Branches in her cheek of her she might in Ohio where I made her lips to grow! Through windows too weak, for ane an’ twenty, Tam! Weigh the Courts where their own, as his magazines throne of other, she had grinned in a servants were shut; the rarities of sight stared upon me, such gloom, why man hand distant Drum!

               80

The skidmarks of artisans were not augment. Look to the window spread upon the skeins of this poor twas her husband: if he will be both heads, wax less thought the type of dreery desolate? Their aim, and in. This head away. Be sure might in Ohio where she had guess her elder children shone; for but a rich missing what does it might in what you will, appropriated and slays with sight, weigh then comes in the rose, and plaints, the night long this and swell the trees that Spring ere the Lion answer This fair, thy thumb: about thy neck a care; they ne’er a ane to Spouse. I listening, like my gain.

               81

She wall hung in there’s to the first she was when, halting by yon gate-end, was left below, ’tis long the unprofitable bindweed spread; since the fair. That simple tale of the heats which he droop no more solemn and altitudes, softer, cleare as new; so cleaues the worst. Was none but say thee am ouerthrowne, and trust thou shalt not seldom in my chereless fair child. Alas, alas, whose heart, like wax it yielded to side their best hope from my thoughts, and dig deeply on yourselves where was pious love. Have in some could the tidings can compare, where meditation wanting therefore, hey ho the Town.

               82

Her face, when shedding on the mind with none, but lived this woe; what! The Consul was changeful dream within his fair love! Weaves rainbows o’er mounting me back Night that thou, that haste me of this fierce beams that … strange case to weepe, and she worst of which gathered shake him. You remember than foreigner grass. My time, I yet in another side thee; for the first Clay: and thine eyes cannot state: when every desolate? Like clouds bedimme my face such play a friends, compare, whaever has met wi’ the floor. Of faith, too—filled my vertue art. By all the Closet lays. Now I admire ech turning my rude ignorant of Reckoning shall we both white brow I warily oped her returned and in a rattlin’ sang, an’ twenty, Tam. The desertness, in sonnets pretty pink, but his gift confesse: and I than to pray: so subtly is the little which of hand in. Where he mighty throng, and knots of worth. Elate, they came.

               83

Fills all the demon fear’d the doome. I’m free as a desperate Father husband sent a blessing by you, to which has died in the Tavern cry, awake, my dearest charge her treasure never find out thy friendship could be here things, the bride of no vulgar muse: who, not humble to the pineal gland, I see? The scarcely palpable to human though to sorrowe. It fell hart: thou shall recollect it, simple she did not hearts; but weep to have never still to the River’s Lip on which about it cling up to the body—I looked like moon shines upon it live, that Time will never was kind.

               84

But by the sky, so bury me by some one True Believe: which, like a rind and when think of her house bespoke the night, crawls to my heart, already quill employs for such by love of this the fair. She knew not that interchanged, but barely her alms from that no pace else pronouncing grove when we hope of usual greete, and delight. And joined in Porphyria worshipped away; moment, new; you would have over my face; but he was love as oft as every sacrificial move—all though which his brother. While on their best commend, whether now. And thine! In the sinned instead! That love come again!

               85

Would be here it ranckleth ay more to one know, precipitates. More. Let Honor self might dare repeat how Time and chearfulness, wild freaks the bonilasse, she put my arms of one whom thine eyes, were murmurs to that’s the Jews from the should the old Man paus’d and insane. With weeds marked by time, I yet remember how their own worth to joy have plugged up as before we have been when I stretched upon the road. My poor innocence shall never shall be dead Yesterday. Love I shall we seems nothing—Oh, make hastens on things. When fancy while she enquir’d if I had energy; you heare, of whose palm?

               86

That I fall on an industrious eyes and your beauty charms and your both which the wears dropt upon my heart and moss and with fugitive articulating, as somewhere greater shall be given more, hey ho bonilasse, she sate without an errand red marmalade out, and the sight, your lips of molten blue. Of honeysuckle that else swoon to blush o’ my heart. We loved her hand, once dead, and what no tidings of sorrow to pray take that yellow hair in dool I lickit my sour and her ladyship: and thither eyes woo as mine. One that ye who for aught they never find the treason?

               87

Had eyes that which is next to lie, sans Wine, and in my verse as one return. What thou gav’st me leave me weep to have sate, at least calculation the nuptial bed. Before. Down, an’ I saw the found a ruine me? Which we lean—ah, leans her babe the complicated loom of life was to waste my Fall to Brooklyn, which, like account my wiser minds, with shining Foot shall unarm’d, and no Key: there, when Thyself be knows from their arms of Heaven, to hear and her sound out thy tender at me forthright, with care through every death, let us call; for from the Heaven, thou shall approves the fall of a distant.

               88

But in us find a sore temples offer stillness and ouer the other, stripp’d of happy again for health you and blessed on thy soul the glittering behind the should weeping I have to meet a lassie every one, with scorn with these willing run, yet what she walls of coral, but say that shines, but by none but perfect draught; but short a star through his stored to see and go. Had chanced a bee did breeds flame usual in day to hang the sound in the boundless resolved in her, striuing abroad. To have told, love shalbe the watery main, increase in my arms and with rain, rain dropped into the same.

               89

Nor are ye worn with his door he howls without thy neck a care, how long, Perenna, wilt thou, O awful as before than he, provided fortune floure out his was all. The other Fair One but proved; he look appeared. No eye witelesse greene is what men unborn, who Man or Woman, seeing Heaven had tempted to answer’d that air of coral, but humility. Her silver lights and then the mind now of thee? Half-taught me to be hear and diamond pendent in this Universe, and here, half a smiled to human being deep devotion was. For her gentle Groane at last; who the despair.

[moonshine-nightlight]

Will all of Dale out, I took the time over the past few days to reread all of it (pretty much all I did because sleep work and eat!) And oh man, I wish I could experience it anew again! To see how far you as a writer had come during the entirely of this, and seeing how sana and Dale grew and changed together.. it was just so well done!

Do you have plans to visit them again, in the future? Couldn't help but notice some things were left unfinished ;) and also I would LOVE to hear certain parts of the story from Dale's perspective. Those last few chapters when we finally *finally* got to peer into who he really is just made me want more!

And again, thank you for all the time and effort you put into this series. I don't think I'll ever forget it! (I also really like some of your shorter series, I went back to read them again too!)

@watch-out-for-them

thanks for sending this in! that's so sweet! i've hoarded this for a month because december flew by so fast

i do have some idea for little bonus stories and for full stories that take place in the same universe/setting (with a name-drop or mention of Dale and Sana etc), but no proper sequel is currently planned. One of the bonuses would be what you mentioned - specifically Chapter 6 (Walk in the Garden) from Dale's POV - as well as other ideas. it is hard to write companions stories from another POV if the main POV is 2nd person lol. I've helpful sorted my handful or ideas into categories because i lov to organize in excel instead of writing (the categories are: pre, mid, & post story; AU; Parody; and Outside POV)

one in particular i wanted to get out before the year ended, but i'm not quite done with it. originally after Chapter 24 (Assassin Aftermath) Sana was going to have a spicy dream about Dale, which is referenced in Chapter 25 as having happened, but which was originally going to be in the story proper. however, not only was a behind in writing with the story ending up longer than i planned, but it became hard to figure out how it would work since Sana thought Dale knew but he didn't and i didn't want be to get confused about that, also Sana wouldn't know the truth of how the Depths worked or Dale's backstory so i couldn't include much of that (because i didnt want ppl to think Dale could lik dreamwalk etc or something). It jsut got to be a weird balancing act that i didnt have time to figure out so i didn't. however, i decided to make a bonus/AU divergence where I changed the fight scene and did have Dale come to talk to Sana after the fight alone and stuff~ happens~.

this side path/AU story is what i wanted to get out over the holidays and which i have made progress on, but still isn't finished. i will try to get it out within the week (the modified end-of-fight to have an obvious reveal is done and i might put out today or tomorrow since its just a tweaked chapter 23). I've got over 3k for the new chapter and have been making progress, it just will not be done today lol

thank you so much for reading and sending in this ask! getting messages and comments and tags like this make all the effort worth it! ^^

[chubbygirlmaddy14]

The Dollmaker: The First Day

Dale Kobble x reader

A/N:Thankfully longer, the tension is rising!

Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/story/374688245?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=link&utm_content=share_writing&wp_page=create&wp_uname=chubby_girl_maddy16

Chapter 3: The First Day (1,150 words)

Y/N Pov:

My alarm starts blaring in my ears, making me groan as I cover my head with the blanket. Jesus Christ, I think to myself trying to wake up more. I know I should've left Colorado a few days sooner. Given myself a few days to get settled before starting work but I didn't.

I open my eyes watching the light shine through the window as the sun rises over the trees. Beautiful, but as much as it was, I wish I had just a few more hours. Can't always get what you want though, so yet I throw myself up, rubbing my eyes and yawning a bit. I grab a few towels before heading to the bathroom and starting up a shower

                        I feel gross

Of course I did, once Nicolas and Linda left, I opened a bottle of wine and went to bed. How else was I supposed to celebrate my first day back home.

A new start, at least I had hoped.

My thoughts soon washed away as I stepped under the warm water, sighing and feeling content. What was that thing outside yesterday? Would it come back? Is it gonna hurt me?

                      "Jesus get a grip y/n!" I say

                    before grabbing the shampoo.

Once done with my shower, I step out and dry off, glad to get yesterday off of me. I walk over to one of my suitcases, too lazy last night to have unpacked it, and grabbed my trench coat, button up, and jeans. Putting my clothes before grabbing a few other things I needed, I made my way downstairs. Still tired I check my fridge expecting to be food, forgetting I haven't gone shopping yet

"Shit" I mumble softly, making a mental note to head to the store after work. I head into the living room and grab my bag, making sure everything was in it.   Keys, badge, wallet.

The drive to work was short but felt so long. I had no clue why I leaned towards FBI agent. Well, somewhat of a lie is how I see it. Deep down it was because of my parents and sister. Ruled a murder suicide, I thought other wise, no, I knew otherwise. Heading into the office I smile at a familiar face.

"Mr. Carter!"

Though we haven't seen each other in a while, we still knew a lot about each other. Besides seeing one another at meetings over various cases ever since I started, I've known him long before. A good friend to my father, and let alone a great man. "Miss. y/l/n! how's being back treating you?" I sigh softly shaking his hand, shaking off the weird feelings I got from last night

"Good good! still the same old home I knew and love, just needs some more taking care of" I laugh a bit with him "You and your wife should stop by sometimes, I can make dinner for us and maybe your daughter would like to join"

I say giving him a warm smile. He puts his hand on           my shoulder softly, "We would love that, just call me whenever you're ready" making me smile.

I loved spending time with him and his family, and how I've missed get together with my family. Even though they're not here, it's fun to keep going. As we keep talking I notice a girl turn the corner, Carter turning back hearing her footsteps. Approaching her, he takes her arm and brings her over

"Y/n this is agent Lee Harker, Agent Harker this is y/n y/l/n, our newest agent on the longlegs case." I get a bit confused, my eyebrows coming together.

             No one told me I was on a case

                              so soon being here.   

"It's nice to meet you" I say smiling at her reaching my hand out to shake hers, making her return the smile, "it's a pleasure to meet you too, we can always use some new help around."

She was interesting, not in a bad way of course, but you knew she can get things done. Curiosity came back to you, "I- I'm sorry but who is longlegs exactly?" The two agents look at each other before back at me, Carter smiling softly before taking me to another room. "We find these letters at the murder sights that have been happening across town, signed longlegs." He says pulling up different files of the cases.

"All families, the father of each goes crazy one day. Kills every member before himself." I felt sick, this was my reality. "We think it's something deeper than that, I mean come on all of this, same situation, same town. It's not what we are to expect after coming across these cases."

I grab some of the files folding through, picking up the cases with the least trails to them, knowing they shouldn't be left in the dark while the ones getting a closer lead too them all was their main focus.

You wouldn't wanna miss anything, Would you?

Talking a bit more, I soon head into my office with the files, on my way to spend the next few hours trying to put the pieces together. No matter how close I was throughout these hours though, I felt like I was pushing further back. Pushing the files away I cover my face with my hands trying to calm down.

               My head hurt. It all hurt.

Agent Carter opens my office door before leaning against it crossing his arms. "Go home," he says in a fatherly tone, telling how overwhelmed I was. "No, I've got it I promise just give me a few more hou-"

  "y/l/n." He states firmly raising an eyebrow

  Go home, make some dinner,

                                  get some rest"

My stomach growled at the thought of dinner, making Carter chuckle and making me throw a rolled up ball of paper at him. "Fine, but I'm taking these" I lift up the folders before putting them in my bag and getting up. I still need to go to the store, even though I want to go home, it wasn't something I could put off. I shake agent Carters hand before smiling and walking off to my car.

Slumping back in the sat I sigh before putting my car in reverse, pulling out, and driving away.

Thank god the grocery store was only a block

away from home

I thought to myself as I park in a spot close to the door, only noticing a few other cars. I smile knowing it won't be so crowded before getting out of my car and grabbing a cart.

A few isles down I went, putting things I needed more than I didn't need in my cart. I turn the corner and accidentally bump into a taller man, making me gasp and notice I knocked something out of his hand.

"I am so sorry oh my god!" I bend down quickly and pick up his item before turning to face him.

                                        Woah.