#I’m order another book tomorrow called cruel prince I think

[crybaby-bkg]

cw: faerie gojo 👁️

you knew better. you were taught better. it was damn near hammered, letter by letter, word by word, onto the backs of your eyelids.

avoid faerie circles at all costs.

and yet—here you were. it started off only as a little hop, a skip, a sway of your skirt, your chin tilted toward the endlessly blue sky. before you knew it, the barren forest suddenly grew crowded, more and more beings emerging from their hiding spots. they sang with voices so sharp that if you listened too hard, you’re sure your ears would bleed. they danced so eloquently that if you focused too hard, you’re sure your eyes would pop from their sockets. their faces were so beautiful that if you looked too hard—

“You’re a pretty thing, aren’t you?” his voice was a deep croon to the side of you. you hadn’t even noticed when he glided his way to you, his shock of white hair and lashes that framed unnaturally blue eye. he was gorgeous, in his silken robes and lanky figure, his form blurring at the edges when you stared a bit too hard, makes your head pound in warning.

“Hello to you too,” you smile at the handsome man—faerie? was that not what he was, with the unnatural way he smiled too wide and his too perfect proportions? but he doesn’t seem to notice your inner dilemma, instead takes your hand and dances you round and round and round until your feet ache and your chest burns from the laughter he pulls from you.

“Can I have the name of the person I’ll dance with for the rest of their life?” he asks you, coy, when the sun has set and the forest only grows thicker with his people. you’re getting tired, know that soon you’ll regret trekking this deep into the thick greenery. your guard is lowered; you make another mistake; first the dancing; now your name; your soon to be sealed fate.

the faerie grins wide at you, suddenly stepping into the circle, dragging you with him despite the way your heels try to dig into the soft earth.

“And now you’re mine, beautiful little human.” he tells you with an uncanny grin, beautiful and wrong all at once. his eyes grow too ocean blue, his hands ice cold where they drag you into the circle by the wrist. your stomach sinks when you enter Faerie, your feet aching, your heart heavy knowing that you’ll never see your family again.

[meltedxwings]

Still no sex bc I apparently can not do anything but write absurdly long  stories about a knight who just wants to have his Prince put him on his knees. Lots of non sexual intimacy and drool though. So much fucking drool. (and I’m so sorry it’s so long)

Michael pushed harder, going after his squire with more force, more speed until the boy was on the ground, his sword across on the other side of the training yard. He no longer looked thrilled to be training, no longer looked eager to learn from the best Knight in the kingdom. Instead he looked scared. Michael almost scoffed, pathetic the boy was supposed to be learning. 

“Get up boy, we’re going again, some day your job will be to protect the Prince, if you can’t do that-” Michael let his sentence trail off, let the boy fill in the rest, as he stood up and retrieved his sword. 

The next bout went about the same. The boy was clearly getting tired, and was having a hard time keeping his sword up. Any offensive maneuvers were beyond him and his defense was so weak it didn’t take long for Michael to have him flat on his back again. 

“Again.” Michael said, his voice hard, filled with irritation. The boy nodded scrambling to get up. 

“I don’t think that will be necessary.” someone said from the entrance to the training yard. 

Michael spun on his heel, his head falling into a bow. “My Lord, I did not know you would be at the training yard I-” 

The prince held up his hand waving off the rest of what Michael was saying. He had a n odd look on his face, a look Michael could not place. 

“You boy, what’s your name?” Prince Rob walked to the young boy completely ignoring Michael. 

“Rand, Your Grace.”  

Michael had not turned around to watch the interaction, but he had spent enough time guarding Rob to know the man had a smile on his face. Could hear it when he spoke.

“I am no one’s Grace just yet. My father still reins. Tell me Rand, is our fearless knight always such an ass during your training?” 

“Sir Michael is a good Knight to train under Your- My Lord, He only wants the best from me. I can do better.” 

Michael smiled when he heard Rob scoff. He was near as good a swordsman as Michael was. He could probably have seen the fatigue in Rand from wherever he had been watching from. 

“You can barely hold your sword up. Michael is right to train your stamina but he’s being cruel now. Go, your training is done for the day, all your duties are done for the day. Report for whatever duties you have tomorrow but for today you’re done.” 

Michael watched as Rand left the training ground, watched the boy turn in the door to look back at Michael and Rob. Michael just nodded, and that seemed to be what the boy was looking for as he took off down to the Castle, hurrying like he was worried he’d be called back. 

“Now, what should I do with you?” Rob was still behind Michael, perhaps still not looking at him. Michael did not plan on turning around to look. Rob would come to him if he wanted Michael to look at him. “You’re a hard master, I know that. But you like Rand I know that too. So what was this about hmm? What problem are you taking out on the boy?” 

Rob was closer now. Standing right behind Michael, so close Michael could almost feel Rob’s breath on his neck. Michael tensed but did not turn. 

“Have a hard time finding stable boys to put you on your knees?” Rob whispered, his breath tickling Michael’s ear. Still Michael did not turn around, though his face was red with shame. How was it the Prince knew? He’d always had to be careful and after the Prince had found out he’d been even more careful. “I told you to come to me if you needed, did you think I’d let anyone else in the Castle get their hands on you?”

Michael hung his head. He’d had his suspicions, that the Prince would have somehow gotten all the men in the castle to stay away from him but to hear that that was what truly had happened made it all the worse. 

Suddenly Michael’s chin was held between Rob’s fingers, his head yanked to the side so he was looking at Rob. “You’re mine, my bodyguard, my best knight, and my pretty boy to put on his knees. Do not forget.” Rob shook Michael’s head back and forth as if to punctuate his point. 

“Open your mouth pretty boy.” 

“My Lord I don’t think-” Rob’s other hand was in his hair pulling hard, hard enough to bring tears to Michael’s eyes. 

“I did not ask you to speak, I told you to open your mouth.” The hand in his hair relaxed, turned from pulling into a gentle hand cupping the back of Michael’s head. “There is no one here, I promised I would take care of you but for that to work you must trust me. Now open your mouth like a good boy.” 

Michael could think of a million arguments. There was no one here now but there might be later, the king could come down, or any of the men under Michael’s command. Instead his mouth fell open. 

As soon his mouth was open Prince had his fingers in Michael’s mouth. Soft at first petting his tongue, running over his teeth. But suddenly, and without warning, Michael was gagging on the fingers in his mouth, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes while he closed them. 

Just as suddenly as the fingers had choked him they were gone from his mouth completely, the Prince wiping his fingers on Michael’s cheek. The blush on Michael’s face intensified as he found himself leaning into the fingers, into any touch Rob would gift him with. 

“I know what you need baby, come to my room tonight as the guards change. I’ll give it to you.” 

Rob put his hand over Michael’s eyes, Michael didn’t hesitate to close his eyes. Leaving them closed as he listened to Rob walk away. Staying in the middle of the training ground eyes closed  until he was sure Rob was gone. 

Michael nodded to the guards leaving, sneaking through the Prince’s door before the guards who would take their place were there. It was not suspicious that Michael would spend time with the Prince but it was best to keep any suspension at bay as best they could. 

Rob was sitting by the fire, a book opened on his lap his crown glinting in the firelight. Michael knew the prince was wearing it for him. Was wearing it to remind Michael of the power he held. As if Michael was not here to hand him even more power. 

The Prince did not look up from his book as he spoke “take off your tunic sir Michael. I suspect that your chest will be covered in drool and I would hate for you to have to explain why your tunic is soaked in drool” 

Michael did, very aware that in order to do so he also had to unbuckle his sword. His Prince was not just disrobing him but adding another reminder to who was in control. After his sword was carefully leaned against the door, his tunic folded on the floor next to his sword he stood with his hands held behind his back, waiting. It was a long time before he heard Rob scoff and point to the place next to where he was. 

“This is not the first time we’ve done this, you know where I want you. Or do you expect me to stop reading to get you in place?” Still the Prince did not lift his eyes from his book. Michael blushed doing as was expected, kneeling beside the Prince the fire helping to alleviate the chill of the room. 

“Finally.” Rob said resting a hand on Michael’s head, his fingers tangling in Michael’s hair. “Now open your mouth, tongue out.” 

Michael did, though Rob did not look to check Michael knew he did not need the Prince to look at him, to check to make sure he was following instructions. He would do so no matter what. 

Michael didn’t know how much time passed, how long his mouth was open, drool dripping down onto his chest. But finally Rob closed his book, turning his chair so that his legs bracketed Michael. Michael did not look up at Rob, did not move at all though he blushed as more drool dripped down onto his chest, his blush deepening when he heard the prince chuckle. 

“You’re such a good boy for me.” Rob cooed, a hand pulling Michael’s head back, so he had no where to look but into Rob’s eyes. “Such a good boy.” and then his fingers were in Michael’s mouth, gagging him. Still he did not close his mouth, and something glinted in the Prince’s eyes. 

“Such a good boy, this is why I never fear when you’re guarding me. You follow instructions so well. You would do anything for me.” If Michael were anywhere else. If he had not spent so long on his knees that the stone floor had rendered his legs numb, he would be worried. But this was his Prince, his prince. Taking care of him in a way no one else could. 

“You can suck on my fingers now.” Rob whispered and finally, finally Michael closed his mouth. Unsurprised to find his jaw sore from being open for so long. 

Michael lost track of time again after that. He was not sure how long Rob fucked his mouth with his fingers. How long he spent gagging around the Prince’s hand. But eventually the Prince took his hand back, wiping his fingers on Michael’s cheek again before cupping his face. If Michael were more aware he’d point out there was no point in the Prince wiping of his fingers only to put his hand where he’d  done so. Instead he leaned into the Prince’s hand letting out a soft whine. 

“I know, I know, but the guards will change soon, and I believe you are supposed to guard me till sunrise.” and you can not do so from here. Michael’s brain supplied. He pulled back ready to get up. Instead the had softly cupping his face held him where he was as his prince looked down at him his eyes hard, steely, the way he looked before a sparing match. 

“You will go and stand by my door to guard me because that is where you are expected to be. You may wipe off your face but you will not clean your chest. When sunrise comes I expect to see you in here again. Make an excuse, any excuse.” Rob squinted down at Michael now cupping both his cheeks. “Will you do it?” 

Michael went to nod but Rob was holding his head too tight. “Yes-” he croaked his voice rough with disuse. “Yes my Lord.” 

Rob nodded leaning back in his chair. “Then go, clean up using the water pitcher in the corner. I will see you in the morning Sir Michael.”

[forever-rogue]

Of Princes & Berries - Part 2

A/N: Thank you guys for all the support on part 1, I’m so glad you guys liked it! Oberyn has my heart, always.  As always, feedback and comments are welcome, and if you’d like to be tagged, let me know! xx

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: depictions of violence, overall :( (don’t hate me)

PART 1 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6 | PART 7 | PART 8

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

Your room was small. Sparsely decorated with the few items you had, and a bed pushed into the corner near the small window you had in order to soak up as much sun as possible. You always liked the sun, how it warmed up your face and seemed to set your whole on fire. Growing up as a young girl in the Reach, you'd spent many afternoons lazing about in the sun, soaking it all up. Now, as a woman grown, it was hard to find any light in the cold, stone walls of the Red Keep. Now it seemed like an endless monotony of gray and beige.

But ever since Oberyn and his Dornish envoy had arrived, everything has seemed lighter, happier, more sunny. You vowed to try and soak up as much of the sun as possible, even if it was only temporary. Sitting down on your bed, you kicked off your shoes and let out a long sigh as you stretched your tired limbs. You had been kept busy all afternoon, fulfilling all sorts of menial tasks that been found for you, no doubt due to Cersei. For some reason tending to the sows and roosters and sheep had suddenly become your duty. You had no doubt it was to keep you away from the main part of the castle, and hide you away from your new friend, the prince.

You’d decided that you’d try and steal a quick bath before changing into your other set of clothes and heading down to grab some dinner from the kitchens. By then it would be nightfall and if you were lucky, you’d be left alone and have some time to yourself. You’d acquired a new book recently, and were eager to crack into it. When you’d spotted the beautiful leather bound book abandoned in a quiet section of the castle, you’d taken it, hiding it under your skirts. You were one of the few servants that could read, a gift bestowed upon you from Elia Martell herself. She’d always treated you with such warmth and generosity; it was such a far cry from Cersei and how the Lannisters ran things. 

As you reached for your clean clothes and a makeshift towel to dry yourself off with, a loud knock came at your door. It was so loud, it startled you, causing the clothes to tumble to the floor. Groaning you picked them up, and set them on your bed, rushing to open the door before the person on the other side grew more agitated. 

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” you squeaked as you pulled open the door, eyes widening in surprise when you realized who it was. Cersei stood on the other side with a sickeningly sweet smile on her face. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you spied the large, ornate bowl she was carrying in her arms. It looked to be filled with...berries. You gave her a curtsy before meeting her eyes; they always seemed angry and hateful, and whatever expression she tried to convey never quite reached them, “y-your Grace. What can I do for you?”

“Oh no,” her voice was pitched an octave and you could see she was refraining from expressing her true feelings, “it appears I am here to do something for you. Can you believe that? The Queen doing the bidding of a pauper prince and delivering something to a servant girl.”

“I-I don’t understand, your Grace,” you shook your head and took a step back, hoping she wouldn’t reach out and strike you. She’d had a period where she had been prone to that, slapping anyone who dared to question so much as a word she said. Luckily, it had been a while since you had personally faced her wrath. Something deep within you told that your time of smooth sailing was quickly coming to an end. 

“These,” she displayed the ornately carved bowl towards you and you could tell that it was teeming with all of Oberyn’s beloved berries, “are for you. From the Prince himself. He asked me, personally, to ensure that you receive them.”

“I had no clue he would do that,” you stuttered, backing further into your room, Cersei following you inside, “I-I’m sorry, your Grace. He must not be thinking clearly. I-I didn’t ask-”

“Hmm,” she reached a few hand up and trailed it along your jaw before touching a lock of your beautiful hair. You gnawed on your bottom lip as you tried to stop yourself from crying, feeling the familiar sting welling up at the back of your eyes, “I’m sure you didn’t, you filthy little whore.”

Her words cut you almost as much as her hand as she slapped you across the face with fury. You clutched the spot, already sore, and surely red as she pushed past you and leaned against your window. Wiping away the few tears that had rolled down your cheeks, you almost whimpered, “your Grace, I’ve done nothing...I don’t why-”

“Such a shame,” she said softly as she took the bowl and dumped the fresh fruit out of the window, letting them land on the ground outside. You made a small, pathetic sound as you watched a wicked smile cross her face, “all that exquisite fruit wasted. You should be more careful next time. If the prince were to find out I’m sure his spirits would be crushed. He had these brought in, just for you.”

“Your Grace-”

“And this lovely bowl,” she traced her long fingers over the carvings, “all the way from Dorne. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

You weren’t sure how to answer her. Whatever answer you provided her with would be the wrong one. On the one hand you could agree with her, after which she'd accuse you of being nothing more than a whore and confirming her suspicions. If you disagreed, she'd just call you a liar and somehow still make you the guilty party.

You remained silent as you looked at her wide eyes, cheek still stinging and burning. It would surely leave a mark for everyone to see in the coming days.

"No answer?" she mocked you, her voice a cruel sneer, "what a pity. I think it's quite beautiful despite being made by Dornish savages. But I suppose none of that matters."

Before you could open your mouth to speak again, Cersei took the bowl and smashed it on the floor. You watched in horror as the it shattered into a million tiny pieces, scattering all over the floor.

"Oh dear," she pretended to be shocked as you sank to your knees and tried to grab at the pieces, trying in vain to gather each little bit, "you should be more careful, silly girl. I wonder how the prince will feel when I tell him not only did you refuse his gift, you destroyed it all."

You looked up at her with teary eyes, still trying to scrounge up the pieces, feeling them leave little cuts in all over your fingers. You wanted to scream at her, to tell her she was a horrible person, but you refrained. Either you held your tongue or faced life locked away, or if she was feeling particularly cruel, death.

"Clean this mess up," she hissed through gritted teeth, "and then yourself, you smell like shit. And no supper for tonight."

You didn't even bother to say anything as she swept past you, her long skirts dispersing the mess further. Your warm tears mixed in with the little bits of brilliant red blood that had bubbled up on your fingers.

"If I ever see you near Oberyn Martell again," she said softly, "I will have you hanged. Remember your place - you're just a servant, you are no one."

Without another word she walked out and slammed the door loudly behind her. Listening to her treating footsteps for a moment, only when you were sure it was all clear did you allow yourself to fully collapse on the cold, stone floor, openly weeping by now.

But you kept at it, picking up each tiny shard until you had them all on the blanket of your bed. It was long dark now, only the glittering of the lamps outside casting a small glow in your room. People were still outside, even at this hour, feasting and drinking, and having a joyous time. And here you were, alone, hungry, and crying. All because you had a few conversations with someone that didn't treat you like the kitchen scraps. All because someone treated you with kindness.

You wondered where he was now. You hoped he was happy. You hoped he was having a good time with his friends. You hoped he would somehow know what happened and that you would never have acted in such a horrible manner.

By the time you were finished, it was late and there was nothing to keep you company except the inky blue sky, littered with glittering stars, casting the ghost of light throughout the Red Keep. You stood up, finally, and grabbed the your change of clothing, quietly heading out of the room to go to the washroom designated for servants. 

You were fortunate that you going yourself alone, letting yourself cry, deciding that you were going to allow yourself to wallow and feel sorry for this evening and this evening only. Tomorrow you would be steel; cold, quiet, emotionless.

Heating up water, you made it as scalding as possible, slowly stripping off your clothes and allowing yourself a peek at your reflection in the aging looking glass. Once you studied your face, eyes red and swollen with tears, and a large red welt across your cheek, you grew annoyed and covered up your reflection with your dirtied dress. Stepping into the scalding water, you hissed when it burned your skin, especially that of the cut flesh of your hands, but pushed through, telling yourself that it didn't matter, nothing matter. But you still found it around to remind yourself of that. It was hard to feel like no one when he had made you feel like someone.

»»————-　♡　————-««

The next couple of days, you were, once again, resigned to the dirty jobs throughout the castle. Jobs normally left for the men or the stable boys. You knew Cersei was waiting for you to come or make some sort of remark, but you remained silent and went about your duties without a single word. You didn't even appear at meals; at the end of each day you returned to your room, sitting there silently as the sun went down, and slumber took over. The welt on your face has turned into brilliant shades of blues and purples, but no bothered to ask what happened. No one had to.

By the third day, you had gotten into a rhythm and finished your daily tasks early, just as the sun was setting. Instead of going in search of dinner or retiring to your room, you decided to head to the seaside. If nothing else, it would serve to hopefully instill a bit of peace within you. Plopping down on the soft ground, you kicked off your shoes and sat your feet in the sand, raking your fingers through it, as a long tired sigh escaped your lips. The sound of the soft waves was soothing to your ears, along with the chirp of the birds flying overhead. For the first time in days, you felt somewhat normal, as you watched the sun sink over the horizon.

"It's quiet out here," the warm, velvety voice surprised you, but despite never having much of a conversation with her, you immediately realized who it was, "such a welcome change from the mess of King's Landing."

"Lady Ellaria," you turned and gave the stunning woman a small smile as she sat down next to you. It was hard not to stare at her; she was like a goddess incarnate. You could see why Oberyn was so taken with her.

"I am no lady," she insisted with a small smile as she picked up a handful of sand and let it run through her fingers, " unlike you, Y/N Hunziker."

You stiffened at the sound of your familial name, the one you had disowned all those years ago when you had left to find for yourself in King's Landing.

"I don't use that name," you said quietly, pointedly looking anywhere but her face, "and I'd prefer it if you didn't either. I don't know how you found out who I am and I don't care, but I go by Flowers now."

"Why do you choose to go by a name reserved for a bastard when you are not one?"

"I am no one," you shrugged lightly, looking away and studying the ebb and flow of the low tide.

"You've been absent for a few days," she pointed out as you stood up and brushed off your skirt. You were about to reach for your shoes, but she was faster, taking them and clutching them to her chest, "I've noticed. So has Oberyn. He has grown concerned."

"He has no reason to worry," you lied as you tried to keep from crying and breaking down in front of her. Your heart ached at the thought that he not only noticed your absence, but mourned it. You reached for your shoes but she refused to hand them over.

"Where have you been, sweet girl?" she asked gently as she handed your shoes over. You had inadvertently brushed your hair back, exposing your face to her. Her dark eyes immediately raked over the mark on your face, widening in surprise. Realizing your mistake, you quickly grabbed your shoes, covering your face with hair again. The angry red marks littering your hands and wrists were not lost on her, "Y/N?"

"I've been nowhere," you said quietly, as you started to walk away, "being no one."

»»————-　♡　————-««

You'd promised yourself you wouldn't cry anymore. That you wouldn't allow yourself to be weak and vulnerable. But once you found yourself back in your quarters you flopped face down in your bed and let the tears flow freely. You'd made one friend, two if you counted Ellaria, but you were destined to be kept apart all because of birth, because of a name, a family. And he cared about you; at least enough to express concern to his lover. Who had sought you out in return.

And so you wept. And wept. And wept. Until your tears had run dry, until your throat was sore and you had a headache. But before you could try and get some relief through sleep, another loud knock came at your door. Your anxiety only increased as came to the conclusion that it could only be Cersei coming to berate you further. Practically dashing to the door you pulled it open without hesitation, dropping it into a deep curtsy, "your Grace."

"Stand up, sweet girl, there is no need for the formality," but it wasn't Cersei's voice that met your ears. No, this one was much more inviting and pleasant - musical. You quickly stood up to your full height, scanning over Oberyn and quickly meeting his dark eyes; they were filled with concern.

He gently reached up to touch your face, but you flinched out of his touch. When he tried to stop you, he had reached for your hands, but tensed up at the feeling of your marred skin. Letting out a small sound of surprise, he took your hands in his much larger ones and examined delicately, a look of anger crossing his handsome features. You didn’t even know how he had managed to find you, to find your quarters hidden deep within the hallowed halls. Ellaria had no doubt told him what she had witnessed, which caused to break and pursue you. 

Pulling your hands out of his, you took a step back and studied your feet; you wanted nothing more than to tell him the truth, to tell him what had happened. But you refrained, afraid of what would happen to yourself, and Oberyn, if he was seen speaking to you.

“What happened to you? Who did this?” there was a dangerous edge to his voice, his heart plummeting to his stomach at your recoil.

“I-it’s nothing,” you lied quickly, “you should go. You can’t be seen here.”

“And why not?”

“Because it is improper,” you swallowed the lump in your throat, “a prince should not be consorting with a servant.”

“Oh my sweet girl,” his voice softened and was enough to make you want to throw yourself into his arms, “who told you this? What happened?”

“I’m only telling you what’s right...what’s proper,” you allowed yourself to meet his gaze, but regretted your decision as he scanned your face, intently studying the painful looking welt, “I must remember my place. I am no one, and you are...a prince of Dorne.”

“Did Cersei do this to you?” of course it didn’t take long for him to put two and two together. He remembered how Cersei had acted when she had seen the two of you in the gardens. A bout of rage soared through every fiber of beginning as he imagined her inflicted this sort of pain upon you, “did that vile, wretched woman touch you?”

You didn’t confirm or deny anything, opting instead for silence, which served as an answer to his question anyway. He let out a long sigh, his gaze never leaving yours as tried your best not to cry anymore, “you need to leave, Oberyn. Please.”

“Did she...” he trailed off, running a hand over his face in exasperation, “did she bring you my gift?”

You didn’t know why you decided to lie, but you weren’t just honest with him. Letting out a shaky breath, your voice shooting up an octave, “yes...and I disposed of it. It’s not proper for you to be giving me anything. The Queen kindly reminded me of that.”

His nostrils flared as his eyes flicked across the room as he spotted the shards from the bowl you had collected. He knew you would never, ever do something like that. This was all Cersei’s doing, that much was evident. Oberyn put his large hands on either side of your face, gently as possible to prevent hurting you further, and forced you to look at him, “Cersei did this, didn’t she?”

You remained silent, unable to stop a few tears from rolling down your cheeks. Oberyn swiped them away, his heart breaking at the sight, “please, Oberyn, you need to leave.”

“Tell me,” he insisted firmly, “tell me exactly what happened. Please, my sweet girl, just tell me.”

“Nothing happened,” you lied directly to him, finding it both harder, and easier, than you thought, “the queen brought your gift to me and I refused it, at her suggestion.”

“Y/N-”

“I got rid of the berries,” your voice shook a little, “and I broke the bowl.”

“You did all this?”

“Yes,” your lip trembled as you hoped he would realize you were lying, able to red between the lines. You knew he would; he already knew the truth without even hearing it from your lips, “I did this.”

He hesitated slightly, how own hands shaking slightly before he pulled close to him, gently pressing a kiss to your forehead. How you wished you could give into him, to let yourself be completely free with him, but you knew, deep inside that it wasn’t an option. It would never be an option.

“You really want me to believe you did all of that,” Oberyn was quiet and gentle as he tried to convey to you that it would be okay. He silently vowed that he would protect, no matter what that meant. He was the Red Viper for a reason after all. He gestured to your hands and face, “and that you did that to yourself?”

“Yes.”

“Are you scared?” his voice dropped to a low whisper so the question was barely audible, even to you.

“Yes.”

He nodded as he pulled back from you, a torn look on his face as he tried to decided what to do. He could have easily found Cersei and extracted his revenge, but he decided that was too rash. But he would do something, anything, to keep you safe and sound. That much he already knew.

“Oh, my sweet girl...”

“You need to leave, your highness,” you pulled back and turned around so you were no longer facing him, “and make sure you aren’t seen. You can’t come back here...we can’t see each other anymore, while you are here.”

“Why?” he asked softly, and you wished you could get him to see why this was a bad idea in so many aspects, “tell me one good reason.”

“Because I am no one.”

“And you do not want to see me again?”

“Yes, your highness,” you lied, as you stared out the window, at the sky which seemed to contain no stars on this horrible evening. You covered your face as you wept, Oberyn watching slightly as your shoulders shake with your tears, “that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[ilooklikeaburntchickenugget]

Only Mine

A/N: So I’m going to warn this ahead of time, I used Taylor Swift songs. So all credit to Taylor (she’s absolutely incredible and a genius ngl), but all these songs are hers. Just pretend for this story like they’re not and like you wrote them and sang them or something. If you don’t know them then listen to them if you want. They’re all great. And yes, I know some of them are her pop songs and from different albums and eras. But her lyrics are masterpieces. Pairing: Gerard Way x F!Reader Warnings: Mentions of sexual doings, not the actual action though. Word count: 1,535

Gerard’s birthday was fast approaching. And you couldn’t wait.

Of course, you didn’t make it obvious. He never got too excited for his own birthday, to him it was just another day. With cake and presents and such included, but just another day nonetheless. “Gee?” You called into his tour bus, walking up the stairs.

“Hey Y/N.” You heard Ray, who you saw sitting on the couch on his phone.

“Oh, hey Ray.” You smiled in response. “Do you know where Gee went?” “No,” He sighed, “Talking to some manager, I think.” You nodded, sitting next to him, “What’re you planning on getting Gerard for his birthday?” He asked, you smiled at the masterful plan you had.

“You just really can’t tell him.” You said, laying back, “Like this is actually something that if you tell him I may have to hide your dead body.” “Got it.” He lightly laughed.

“So I’ve made this collection of songs over the years, since we started dating. And I put them into an album. About him.” Ray looked slightly surprised. “What? Is it dumb. Oh no is it dumb?” “No, actually no.” He smiled, “It’s brilliant to be honest with you. I mean you’re an incredible singer but an even better song writer. You’ve won Grammy’s so I think anyone would be more than grateful to have an entire album written about them. By a Grammy winner.”

You weren’t known for love songs, at all. You had written and released a few which many fans raved as your best, but you weren’t necessarily known for your song.

“Have you named it yet?” Ray asked. You shook your head.

“I don’t know if I will. Or if I will maybe it’ll just be ‘To Gerard’.” He lightly smiled and shook his head, “What?” “C’mon, you’re so creative. And the best you can come up with is ‘To Gerard?’“ You nodded. “What about something more creative? Like something he reminds you of?” “Cigarettes, coffee, comic books, horror movies, having nothing to say.”

“Those are terrible.” Ray said, “What about something super nice about him?”

“I don’t know, I need to think.”

And you did. For days and days and days. You had the CD ready to give to him, in a blank case. You couldn’t stop thinking, day and night. You were staying at a hotel for a few days, his birthday falling right in the middle of the stretch.

The only thing written on it was on the back, displaying each song name in order in your handwriting.

1. Paper Rings 2. Miss Americana And The Heartbreak Prince 3. Gorgeous 4. Cruel Summer 5. King Of My Heart 6. Dress 7. Lover 8. So It Goes... 9. Afterglow 10. Delicate 11. Call It What You Want 12. cardigan 13. False God

Gerard held you close at night, having not held you in a few weeks due to being on separate tour buses. Strands of his growing black hair were scattered across the crevices on his face, soft snores leaving his mouth occasionally. You rolled over to see the clock next to you display 11:58. And that’s when it hit.

You carefully crawled away from Gerard, quietly going through your bag and finding the CD case and a sharpie. On the front you wrote, “My Midnight Boy”.

“Babe?” You heard him ask.

“Yeah?” You lightly said back.

“What’re you doing?” You could tell by his groggy voice that he was only half awake.

“Just had to make sure something was here, it is.” You said, carefully placing both items back in your bag and crawling into bed with him again. He immediately wrapped his arms around you, pulling you to him.

The next morning you woke up to the sound of the shower starting. Gee was taking a shower you knew, so you decided to browse on your phone for a few moments.

“Hey, sugar.” You heard Gee’s voice as he walked out of the bathroom.

“Hey, Gee.” You lightly smiled. “Are you excited?” You asked him, smiling like a fool. “For what?” He asked, confused.

“It’s your birthday tomorrow!” He gave a small smile.

“Yeah, well that’s tomorrow.”

“That’s my point, babe, it’s tomorrow.” “Well there’s no need to get excited for today.” You rolled your eyes.

“You’re something else Mr. Way.” You told him, standing up to go get in the shower yourself.

-A time skip because I’m lazy-

Finally it was Gee’s birthday. You could easily tell you were more excited than Gerard, considering he had the same attitude towards it as literally every other day of the year (besides Christmas maybe).

You both woke up around the same time, so the minute your eyes met you knew he was awake. “Happy birthday.” You lightly smiled, leaning to him in bed and giving him a soft kiss on the lips.

“Thanks.” He smiled back once you released.

“How does it feel to be 30?” “Don’t remind me,” He said and you lightly laughed, “I’m an old man.” “Well,” You said, “Kinda.” He lightly laughed.

“The only positive is I have a super hot 25 year old girlfriend.” You chuckled.

“Don’t bring up the age difference,” You sat up, he was already standing on the other side of the bed, “The media’s attacked both of us for that enough.” He sighed. “Do you want your present now or later?” “Well that depends, what it is?” He smirked. You rolled your eyes.

“If you’re implying a blowjob, that would be later.” He let out a sigh, “Jeez, Gee, let a girl prepare.” You got up, placing your feet on the cold carpet of the hotel floor, “But your other present, which I can nearly guarantee you is better than a BJ, I can give it to you whenever you want.”

“Better than a blowjob? That’s hard to be beat.” You rolled your eyes, going to your luggage to grab some jeans and a shirt.

“You are such an immature boy sometimes Gee.” “Hey, it’s my birthday, don’t insult me.”

“The truth is not an insult.” You said right back. You walked to the bathroom, shutting the door and quickly brushing your teeth and changing, before brushing your hair and walking back out. “So, when do you want your present?”

“Mmmmmmmh,” He hummed for a moment, “Now?” “Of course, my dear.” You smiled, walking over to your bag and picking out the CD, “It’s not much, but I really do hope you’ll like it.” You handed it to him, he took it and looked at it briefly, studying the look of it.

“A CD?” He asked. You nodded. “By you?” You nodded. “Unreleased?” You once again nodded.

“Just listen to it Gee,” You smiled, “I to go meet with my manager, but I’ll be back in two hours.” “But-” “It’s your birthday, babe, I know. But Will is being an asshole and said I have to go to this. So I gotta go.” You gave him a long kiss, “I love you.” “Love you too.” He replied.

-Another time skip-

You walked back in to the room, taking off your light coat and shoes. “Hey Gee.” You announced your arrival. No reply. “Gee?” You called out again. You walked further to see him on the bed, laying there, tears in his eyes. “Baby, what’s wrong.” He picked up the CD. “Did you mean it?” He asked. You gave a puzzled look, “The lyrics, the everything? Do you mean it?” You nodded and lightly smiled.

“Of course, Gee.” He looked away from you for a moment, sighing before putting his hand in his pocket and ruffling it around for something.

“I was gonna do this later but I need to do this.” He got off the bed, his eyes still slightly watery, and kneeled down. There in his hand was a silver ring, with a tiny diamond in it. “Marry me?” He asked. You were taken aback slightly.

“Um, yes, of course Gerard.” He quickly slipped the finger on the ring, getting up and slamming his lips onto yours.

“Good.” He said, his hands on your cheeks, faces less than two inches apart. “I want to spend every damn moment of the rest of my life with you.” You lightly laughed.

“I do too, Gee.” He gave you another long kiss.

“You need to release it.” He stated, letting go off the kiss but his hands still rested on your cheeks.

“What?” You aksed.

“Release the album. You have to.” “I, um,” You began, “I- are you sure? I mean it was kinda personal Gee-” “It was a masterpiece!” He said, letting go and picking up the CD, “You have to. You absolutely have to! Do you know what this would do to your solo career? Do you know how many Grammys you would get?” “I-” You were taken very aback by this, “Gee, I didn’t do it for awards-” “Yeah, but it deserves them. Ask anyone who listens to it.” You sighed.

“Fine,” You said, “I’ll think about it. But are you 100% sure? I mean it kinda talks about our sex life too-” “Yeah, well all the better. I want the entire world to know you’re mine. Only mine.”

[multisfabulis]

Only Through Acceptance Will Love Find Us

The Florist of Belleurseul (Chapter 1)

Word Count: 5728

What's this? Another update from me within less than a week? What is this witchcraft?!

I'm joking, of course, but this is, for sure, another update! For those that didn't read the notes for "Land's Trust in Light", you can disregard this but all I'll say is that it is practically unheard of for me to post twice in the same month, much less the course of two weeks, so I'm having a bit of fun with myself.

Anyway, I know I said in the last chapter I wouldn't update this story much because I consider this a backburner project, meaning I wouldn't devote much attention to it unless it was one of the rare occasions I had nothing else to write at the moment. However, I figured that, since I only left everyone a 500 word prologue last time, it'd only be fair to write and post the first chapter so you guys would have something to chew on while waiting for the next chapter. It's after this I'll be putting this story on the backburner to be worked on occasionally, meaning no frequent updates. Have fun with the foreshadowing I put in here!

Read on AO3 | Read on DA | Support me on Ko-fi!

     “Thank you, have a nice day!”

     At that, Venlithea Virthana slid the gold coin into her pocket. She managed to bring in a good sum of money today, despite the encroaching winter. Pride coursed through her at the thought of having sold that many flowers and she had to stop herself from jumping for joy. She instead settled on walking with a bounce to her step as she wondered if things were finally looking up.

     Days like today didn’t happen very often. Some days had only a handful of regulars show up while others none. Then there were days she’d be verbally harassed or even pushed to the ground, which would spill her flowers out on the ground to be trampled upon by unsuspecting or uncaring passersby. Those happened enough times she stopped being bothered by them a long time ago. She was highly thankful today wasn’t like those days.

     She had only one thing left to do before going home and that was to return the book she borrowed from the bookshop. She planned on exchanging the book with the one she regarded as her favorite so she’d have something enjoyable to read for the next few days while her mother was out of town. Gripping her basket tightly in her hands, she set off for the bookshop.

     Venlithea, or Ven as she preferred to be called, has lived in the small, quaint village of Belleurseul all her life. Anyone could mistake it for being a quiet, sleepy town in the middle of nowhere if not for the people. The village sprang to life every time a visitor dropped by and they would deem the occasion as cause to celebrate. She’s had plenty of sleepless nights from the noise these parties brought to her door. It’s partly due to this she’s wanted to leave Belleurseul for years.

     It’s been her and her mother’s dream to go and find a new place for them to live. A place they could truly, truly call home. In order to do that, though, they needed money and lots of it. Her mother was a traveling merchant, which fetched them a nice amount of gold, but her sickly nature’s prevented her from going on many trips. Once she was old enough to, Ven began selling flowers she grew herself as a way to help out. It wasn’t much but it kept them afloat.

     Working as a florist’s been hard. She wasn’t stupid to believe she’d earn tons of money selling flowers, especially in a rural village like Belleurseul. She just didn’t expect the struggles that came with being a flower girl. Better yet, the struggles of her being a flower girl.

     As beautiful as this village was, it wasn’t perfect. Some of the buildings were falling apart, the scent of fermented waste lingered in the air, and she’s known from experience how cruel the people were. They’ve made no secret on how much they dislike, and even fear, things different from them. She and her mother weren’t like them, thus they were outcasts, pariahs.

     She received the brunt of their harsh treatment. She’d hear the rumors and gossip spread about her when she walked into town. Stories of how she was a changeling born from fairies or how she was a witch sent from hell to curse them were just the tip of the iceberg. She knew they were utter nonsense but what point was there in denying them if the villagers continued to tell those tall tales, regardless of how she felt? The way she looked wasn’t her fault yet---

     She fervently shook her head to rid herself of those thoughts. She couldn’t, wouldn’t dwell on painful memories. Today was a good day and musings of the past weren’t going to ruin that for her. She needed to get what she wanted to do done so she could help Mother prepare for her upcoming trip. She hurried off to the bookshop, ignoring the pointed looks people gave her as she passed by.

     Within minutes, she arrived at her destination. The bookshop was a small, one-story building settled on a busy street corner north of the village. It had dark yellow walls that were beginning to flake with age, large windows on either side, a thin, wooden door, and a rusty sign hanging above with the word “Bookshop” carved into it. She’s come to this place ever since she was a child and the owner considered her his favorite customer. She stepped inside, the familiar smell of musty books enveloping her.

     There were stacks of books scattered across the wooden floor. Bookcases that stretched all the way up to the ceiling stood at the back and sunlight streamed in from both the windows. To her left was an old, rickety counter that came up to her chest and behind it was the owner of the bookshop. He was an older man with graying hair and round glasses sitting atop his nose and was reading a book when he noticed her. He grinned warmly at her.

     “Ah, Ven, you’re back!” he said excitedly, putting his book down and walking around the counter. “How’s your day been? Are you returning a book?”

     “That I am--” she fished the book out of her basket and handed it to him-- “and it’s been great, thank you for asking.”

     Fixing his glasses, he squinted his eyes and exclaimed, “You finished this already? It’s only been a day!”

     “What can I say? I’m a fast reader,” she replied with a giggle. “Any new additions for me yet?”

     He let out a hearty laugh. “Not since you asked yesterday but I’ll let you know as soon as I do. Now, go on, take your pick!”

     She practically skipped over to the bookcases in the back. It was a shame she couldn’t borrow more than one book at a time. It wasn’t as if the owner wouldn’t let her, it was just that she’d get too distracted with one she’d forget all about the other. She hated being somewhat of a scatterbrain when it came to books. Still, there was only one she wanted and she was going to have it. Reaching the middle bookcase, she took out the thin, hardcover book.

     “I’ll go with this one.” She held it up to him. “Will that be all right?”

     Taking it from her, he asked, “That one again? Haven’t you read this twice now?”

     “Yes, but it’s just so good,” she replied, playing with her hands. “I consider it my favorite.”

     “Oh, it has to be if you’re saying that! Tell me, what is it you like so much about it?”

     “Oh, uh, well, um…”

     She struggled to come up with an answer. She was a horrible liar but the truth was too embarrassing to reveal. How could she tell him about the deep sense of yearning the book left her with each time she read it? The way her heart hurt when she had to depart from the world that gave her comfort? How it filled the hole inside her by letting her have what she desperately wanted for only a short time? There was no way she could talk about such intimate things with anyone, least of all him.

     “There’s just so many things I like that it’s hard to pick just one,” she answered, hoping it didn’t sound as stilted as it did in her head. She technically wasn’t lying so it might’ve seemed convincing.

     With a guffaw, he put a hand on her shoulder and said, “Tell you what, why don’t you keep that book since you like it so much?”

     “Really?” she asked, her eyes widening in surprise. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly take this from you without---”

     “Ven, I can think of no one else better to hand this book to--” he squeezed her shoulder before retracting his hand and grabbing his chin-- “but if you’re so insistent on paying me back, bake me the usual.”

     “Blackberry bread, right?” She grabbed the book from him and opened the door with a smile. “I’ll have it ready for you tomorrow morning!”

     She turned to page one right after exiting the bookshop. Her eyes read over the familiar words just as they had twice before. It was a good thing she’d gotten so used to reading while walking in town, she knew what accidents to expect. With that, she fully immersed herself in her beloved fantasy world.

     Flying down some steps with an unusual grace was easy. Pushing the sign above her up to protect herself from getting soaked, she could do with her eyes closed. She was small and agile enough to carefully dodge people barreling past her. It was when she already reached the third chapter she noticed the soreness in her legs. She decided to take a short rest and sat on the rim of the nearby fountain.

     The noises of the world around her faded away as she continued reading. All she heard now was birdsong and the crunching of snow under her feet. She imagined herself to be in a castle’s courtyard, a wintry wonderland. She could almost feel the bitter cold nipping at her hands and face and she shuddered. Her heart fluttered in her chest upon seeing how close she and the princely beast were to each other. She began to wonder if there was there that wasn’t there before and then---

     Loud bleating tore her out of her imagination. She looked up and saw several fluffy sheep gathering around her. One that seemed to be an older lamb pushed its way through the herd, bleating up at her. A smile broke across her face as she petted its head, giving it scratches behind its ear like she always did. She liked animals; they weren’t judgmental and she loved being affectionate towards them. Pets, strokes, scritches, and kisses were part of the whole package.

     Then it tore out a corner of her page and ate it. She let out an annoyed sigh as she continued scratching the lamb’s ear. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t miffed at the small display of destruction but it was better to forgive and forget. It’s not like the lamb did it maliciously and it was only a corner. She could get over missing a corner of an illustration-less page.

     Now was the time to be getting home. The sheep parted to make way for her and she flipped the page before crossing through the main thoroughfare. However, it was hard for her to focus on reading when there was a commotion going on. She looked up to see a crowd surrounding someone, with loud squeals and all. Ah, so the wayfaring Casanova was back in town.

     Renard Géroux stood in the center with his signature charming smile. His blond hair flowed down to his shoulders in waves, not a stray strand anywhere on his handsomely chiseled face. The sun complemented his dark brown skin and the sheer white of his clothes made him seem as if he were glowing. The most striking thing about him, though, were his icy blue eyes. Eyes that were now locked on hers.

     She felt a shiver run up her spine as he approached her. Everyone was like a giant to her but Renard was truly the embodiment of one. She had to crane her head up to meet his gaze, standing just at his chest. What could he want with her and how quick could she get away?

     “Oh, hello, Thea, how are you today?” he asked, flipping his hair back. “It’s rare to see you outside at this time of day.”

     Closing her book, she fought the urge to huff out a sigh and replied, “Hello, Mr. Géroux. I just got done running an errand I had to do after work so I’m on my way home.”

     “Please, call me Renard,” he said while flashing a smile.

     “Mr.---Renard, I’m in a slight hurry here so please, tell me what it is you want with me.”

     “Since you asked me so nicely, I was wondering if you would like to take a walk with me later today?”

     She hoped he didn’t see her bristle at his suggestion. The many women that huddled around him gave her glares full of daggers. How she wished she could tell them he was all theirs and that she wanted nothing to do with him. It was rather unfortunate she wasn’t a mind-reader.

     “Surely you know of the rumors about me, right?” she asked in an attempt to dissuade him. “Do you really want someone known to be a witch spending time with you? I’d be tarnishing your pristine image.”

     “I tend to not believe in rumors, gossip, and the like. Now--” he wrapped a svelte arm around her shoulders-- “how about that walk?”

     Quickly shaking off his arm, she replied in a deceptively calm voice, “As much as I appreciate the offer, I must decline. I was going to help my mother prepare for her upcoming trip and I planned on relaxing by reading my book.”

     “Oh, come on,” he scoffed. “I hardly think reading some old, dusty tome is better than taking a nice stroll with me.”

     She felt her temper flare up and forced herself to smile. “Some people may agree with you but I find good entertainment in books. Maybe you should try them some time.”

     “What, like this one?” He snatched the book in her hands away. “How can anyone have fun with these?”

     Her eyes widening in panic, she reached up to try grabbing the book from him while practically begging, “Renard, can you please give that back?”

     “How can you even read this?” He carelessly flipped the book open to a random page. “It’s so wordy and long and there’s not even any pictures in it.” Then he threw the book over his shoulder. “You don’t need that.”

     Her heart stopped when she saw it land in a nearby mud puddle. She dove to the ground and fished it out, praying it wasn’t badly damaged. Relief crashed over her upon seeing that it was only mildly wet. If it had gotten soaked, she would’ve been seriously upset and devastated.

     “So how about it?” he asked nonchalantly. God, she really wanted to tell him off but causing a scene was the last thing she needed.

     Instead, she took a deep breath and answered, “I’m simply too busy, Renard. Maybe when I’m free, then I’ll consider it but for now, I’m saying no.”

     Holding the book close to her chest, she turned to go home. All she had to do was see her mother, bake the blackberry bread, and garden. Tending to her flowers always seemed to calm her down.

     “So are you going to end up like your crackpot mother, then?”

     She stopped walking as soon as she heard those words. Her fingers were beginning to hurt from how tight she held her book and she bit down on her bottom lip to keep from shouting. She was pissed, for lack of a better term. She could handle the insults hurled her way but her mother was another story.

     Breathing in, she stormed over to him and asked, “What did you say?”

     “You heard me,” he replied, crossing his arms and returning her glare.

     “I thought you said you didn’t believe in rumors.”

     “They’re not rumors if they’re true. I mean, your mother’s always selling these so-called ‘herbal remedies’ and passing them off as medicine, right? Wasn’t it because of one of those strange concoctions her lover died?”

     “You should fact-check your sources because you’re wrong on all accounts. Everyone knows how her lover died and even if they didn’t, that matter is none of their concern. Secondly, my mother’s a traveling merchant who happens to be an herbalist on the side. Herbalism is just another method of practicing medicine and is not something to be considered as witchcraft.”

     “Thea---”

     “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go help my mother prepare.”

     Turning around, she started going back home when she stopped suddenly and looked behind her shoulder. “And another thing. Go to hell, Renard.”

     Then she crossed over the bridge leading to her house. She was almost expecting Renard to grab her and demand she apologize but thankfully didn’t. He needed to be knocked down a peg or two. He shouldn’t have said those kinds of awful things about her mother. He was just like them.

     She couldn’t begin to imagine how hard it was to raise a child all alone. Her mother tried her best to give her everything she needed, despite the struggles. There were nights she’d hear her crying, nights she’d go hungry, yet she faced her with a loving smile every morning. She became a florist to a town open with its prejudice as a way to repay her mother for all she had done for her. She wasn’t a crackpot; she was a hardworking, devoted mother and she loved her.

     Her anger dissipated when she arrived home. It was a small, two-story house that sat on the outskirts of Belleurseul, with amber walls and pine green accents. It had an equally small stable around the back and a water wheel on the side closest to the stream. It may not have looked like much but it was home. She was going to miss this old house when she and Mother moved.

     She walked towards the stable and she saw a woman. She was tall, olive-skinned, and a little on the plump side but it only added to her beauty. Her rich, burgundy hair was tied back into a thick braid and fell past her shoulder as she spread a handful of seed over the ground to feed the chickens. She turned to face her upon hearing footsteps and eyes the color of toasted pecans warmed at the sight of her. This was her adoring mother, Nithenoel Ravavyre.

     Coming out of the stable, she greeted her daughter with a quick hug and kiss before asking, “Hi, sweetheart, how was work today?”

     “Hello, Mother, it was great actually. Here, let me show you.” She took some of the coin she gathered today out of her pocket and presented them to her. “There’s more where those came from.”

     “Oh my…” Mother said under her breath, bringing the handful of coin closer to see them clearly.

     “Today must’ve been my lucky day!”

     “I’ll say!” She closed her fingers over the coins. “Listen, how about we go inside and put those away so we can talk, hmm?”

     The two women climbed up the stone steps leading to the front door. It was a dark, well-made door with a makeshift peephole in the center. Ven was hit with a blast of warmth when Mother opened the door and it felt very nice against the cold. The fireplace must be lit if it was this warm.

     Upon entering, they passed by the narrow staircase that led up to the second floor and cut across the living room. It was small but it was the perfect size for them. The walls were a nice cream color and hanging off them were several paintings Mother had done when she was younger, way before her time. To their right was a light wood cupboard where Ven set down her basket and book and above it was an oval mirror. On the other side was a small, brown sofa and a low table sat in front of it on top of a big, dark blue rug. At the back was the lit fireplace and windows where sunlight was streaming in, a couple chairs were placed in front of the fireplace with a thin blanket hanging on the back of one of them. The next room they went in was the kitchen.

     It was tiny. There were four cabinets above the four counters that stretched from one honeyed wall to the tall pantry. On the opposite side of the counters was a small breakfast nook that served as their dining table with a couple stools sitting under it. A footstool was tucked in the nook’s corner for when Ven needed to fetch something from the cabinets or pantry, which was every day. She couldn’t wait to have a bigger kitchen when they finally moved.

     Mother sat at the nook while she opened one of the counter doors. Inside were linens meant to come out when they had guests over but that wasn’t what she was looking for. She tossed some sheets aside to uncover a mason jar. It was heavy and she set it down on the nook. Unscrewing the top revealed tons of gold inside from years of working and saving up.

     It was what they called their nest egg. They needed some serious money for their dream to become a reality and this was the result of their hard work. They’d have more if times weren’t rough and they didn’t have to dip into their savings but no use in dwelling on those.

     As she was dropping her coin into the jar, Mother asked, “So, any other news to share?”

     “Well, I returned the book I borrowed yesterday and guess what?” She screwed the top back on as Mother looked at her expectantly. “The owner gave me my favorite book for free!”

     “That’s great, honey. I suppose it’s the one you set on the cupboard back there?” She leaned back on the stool to see it. “For free, too?”

     “Well, I have to bake him his blackberry bread but it was his deal, not mine!” she replied, putting the jar back in its spot under the counter. The sheets she tossed aside earlier were thrown over the jar to hide it better.

     Giggling, Mother leaned forward and said, “I know, honey, you don’t have to explain yourself to me. That book’s the one where the beast falls in love with the girl who shows him the true meaning of love, right?”

     “Mm-hmm and it’s all mine!”

     “I’m happy for you, Thea. You know, speaking of, have you found someone you can call your prince yet?”

     She let out a sigh upon hearing the question. It was hard to find and be interested in someone when the whole village seemed to hate her. She had people she’d fancied before but she knew to keep her expectations low and realistic. If she did have a “prince”, they certainly weren’t in Belleurseul.

     “Mother, you know I'm not interested in romance,” she replied, bringing the footstool out of its corner.

     “Not interested or haven’t found anyone yet?” Mother asked.

     “Both!” She set the footstool down in front of a counter and climbed up it. “I don’t see the point of trying to find love here since we’ll be leaving Belleurseul sometime in the future.”

     “What about that Renard fellow? I hear he’s back in town.”

     “Ugh, Mother, don’t even joke about that. That man is an arrogant and pompous jerk who thinks he’s the hottest thing alive. I don’t wanna be anywhere near him.”

     “My, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you speak so strongly about someone before. Did he do anything to you?”

     “No, it’s just…he makes me uncomfortable.”

     “Uncomfortable?”

     “Yeah. I don’t know how to explain it but--” she held a bundle of sugar in her hands before setting it down beside her-- “he gives me bad vibes. He hasn’t said or done anything to raise any red flags for me but he just gives me a weird feeling.”

     She couldn’t explain it any other way. She could sense there being something off about him since their first meeting years ago. He seemed normal, if a little too forward at times, but she couldn’t shake off the apprehension she felt around him. Maybe it was her dislike of people like him that gave her discomfort. Either way, she knew she didn’t want to be alone in a room with him.

     “Thea, you still have your dagger, right?” Mother asked with an unusually serious expression.

     She stepped down from the footstool and smiled at her. “Don’t worry, Mother, I always keep it with me when I go out. See?” She walked around the nook and lifted her skirt up to reveal the small leather holster strapped to her thigh. “If he tries anything, I’ll make sure to defend myself.”

     “I know you will, hon, I just can’t help worrying about you.” She turned in her seat to cup her cheek. “You’re my only child, Thea. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

     “I’ll be fine, Mother,” she said, laying her hand atop hers to comfort her. “Trust me.”

     Without a word, Mother stood up and kissed her on the forehead. Then she hugged her, her arms wrapped tightly around her tiny body. She returned it in the hopes it’d ease her anxiety. They’ve only really had each other for as long as she could remember; they were each others’ world, in a sense. It’d shatter if something happened to one or the other so she understood her mother’s concern. The best she could offer were words of assurance and those had to be enough.

     Mother pulled away and resumed their conversation from earlier. She was good about alleviating the gloomy atmosphere so she welcomed the change in topic. It shifted back to her lack of interest in love, with Mother expressing that she only wanted her to be happy and her saying that she had a whole lifetime ahead to find love so she wasn’t worried. One of a kind, the words Mother used to describe her. She wondered if she really was so special.

     She stayed in the kitchen to bake while Mother went down into the cellar to make some last-minute elixirs. The cellar was where she worked to create her herbal medicine to sell during her time on the road. She wouldn’t need to travel so far if the villagers believed she wasn’t going to poison them but her reputation was considered to be unsalvageable at this point. Ven was only allowed to tend to the herbs down there because Mother refused to let her help in the synthesizing process. There was a safety risk involved, or so she said.

     Baking was a mindless activity. She didn’t need to read the labels on the measuring cups or fill the spoons to the brim, she’d done this so many times. Kneading the dough let her focus on her hands and work out any energy she may have needed to spend. It gave them food if they had none, it gave her an outlet. The last thing she did was stick the blackberry dough into the fireplace to cook. She watched as the dough expanded into its loaf shape and her mouth was watering at the smell of it. She took the newly-baked bread out and waited for it to cool down before cutting it. One half was for Mother while the other for the bookshop owner.

     Then it was time to pack. They began loading up the wagon with the goods Mother wanted to sell, making sure she had enough oil in her lantern to last her for several days, and stocking her with plenty of food for both her and the horse. Dahlia was a beautiful Clydesdale, large and powerful but sweet as can be, with a chestnut coat, blonde mane, and the most soulful brown eyes. She’s been with them ever since she was a young foal and was used to taking long trips such as these.

     “Well, I think I’m set to go,” Mother said, fastening her hat as she walked up to the wagon. “I’ll be back in a few days so remember to feed the animals and---”

     “Take care of myself, I know, Mother, don’t worry,” she cut off. “Everything will be fine.”

     Letting out a small laugh, she gave her a hug and kiss on the cheek. “I love you, Thea.”

     “Love you too.” She returned the hug. “See you soon.”

     Mother climbed up to the seat and took hold of the reins. Ven approached Dahlia to stroke her neck, asking her to keep themselves safe till they were home again. With a cry, the wagon began to move and turned on the road heading out of the village. Mother and Ven waved each other goodbye.

     “Stay safe!”

     “You too!”

     It was late in the afternoon when Mother left. She went over her mental checklist to see what else she needed to do. The animals were fed their lunch, she’d done all her chores for the day, and she took care of the bread for tomorrow. She had the rest of the daylight hours free and she knew exactly how she wanted to spend them. She strode back inside to read her book.

     Before she picked it up, she glanced at the mirror. Her reflection stared back at her as she thought about the rumors the villagers spread of her. She wasn’t a witch or a changeling, that much she knew for sure. But what other explanation was there for how she looked? No one looked like her, no human in the whole world ever looked like her, so why did she? Books held the answers she wanted but those were fantastical and she lived in reality. A reality that couldn’t apply to her.

     Her face seemed normal enough, even if it resembled a fairy’s from an illustration in one of her books. Bright, round eyes, small button nose, rosy cheeks, and full lips were all the defining marks of a fey. Maybe her skin counted as well, since she’s heard it described as being pale as moonlight. Long, snow white locks of hair framed her face in a way that matured her as the rest, although tied back, cascaded down her back like a waterfall to her waist. Then there were her eyes.

     Everything else could be explained away but not her eyes. They were truly a mystery, an impossibility made possible. They were a vivid violet, similar to dark amethyst gems or bellflowers in full bloom. Nothing, absolutely nothing, could determine why she was born with them but that didn’t stop the villagers from making their own interpretations. They weren't quiet about it, either.

     Maybe the reason she loved this book was because she could sympathize with the beast. She understood what it was like to be feared, hated simply for her looks. They were both cursed but his was a spell that could break. Hers was a matter of permanence, something she was stuck with till the day she passed on from this world. Who could love a beast like her?

     She needed to escape. Her emotions were starting to get the best of her and staying in reality any longer would surely cause them to overflow. She gingerly grabbed the book, sat down in one of the chairs by the fireplace, and began to read from where she left off at. This was fine.

     Be patient, she told herself. Just wait a little more and you won’t feel this way ever again. You’ll find your prince. You won’t be lonely anymore. You’ll be loved and accepted, you just need to wait a little longer.

     She hoped that day would come soon.

[ends-of-the-wayward-storm]

Frozen--Book 1--Chances

Chapter 7--Working Together and Trying to Break the Ice

_________

Summary

Hans is granted a second chance by a criminal known as the Mystery, someone people have only heard rumors about. How and why the Mystery decided to go out of his way to do this was beyond Hans, and frankly it bothered him. But once the Mystery’s plan goes into action, it’s only a matter of time before something bigger begins to develop.

(AO3 version) (Prologue)

_________

Her heels sounded against the carpeted halls as she stifled a yawn. Another busy day. Just when she thought she had tightened security, the Mystery makes an appearance. No one had been severely hurt like last night, and everyone was still breathing. But one of the guards did say he managed to land a hit before the Mystery took off with food yet again.

At least that was the only thing he stole. Still, it was food from her people.

Which reminded her—she hadn’t seen Anna for most of the day. She hadn’t even been at dinner. But then again, the queen had been very busy today, but even then she would always make time for her little sister.

She sighed and brushed a stray hair back. Approaching Anna’s bedroom door, she knocked gently.

“Anna? Are you okay?”

Silence.

She opened the door a bit and poked her head in. Anna was nowhere to be seen.

Maybe she’s in the library.

The queen continued down the hall and stifled another yawn. Anna must’ve lost track of time in there. Majorly. And come to think of it, she hadn’t seen Olaf, either. He would probably be with her. Or somewhere else in the castle.

The castle.

She and Anna had been told to remain within its walls until the Mystery was no longer a threat. She could only imagine how scared the people were now, knowing a criminal was still on the loose.

And that one of the guards had—

She pushed that thought aside as she came across the library. Opening the door, she spotted Anna reading by lamp light with Olaf asleep in a chair across from her.

Or at least, Anna was trying to read. She kept drifting in and out of sleep.

“Anna?”

Anna snorted awake and looked to her. “Oh. Elsa.” She yawned.

“You were in here all day?”

“Not . . . the whole day. Just . . . a lot of it.”

Elsa noted the empty tea cup. “Have you eaten anything?”

“Yeah I did. I just ate in here.”

“Hmm.” Elsa skimmed over the numerous book sprawled across the table. One book called History of Corona caught her eye. “Brushing up on history?”

“Just doing a little research project.”

“Research project?”

“I’m trying to figure some things out about the Mystery. Like if he’s been anywhere else or if he has an attack pattern or something. One of the guards mentioned Corona, but I haven’t found him anywhere in books about that place.” Anna paused. “I . . . wanted to help you out.”

Elsa smiled softly. “I really appreciate the help, Anna, but maybe we should get back to this tomorrow.”

“But I’m—” Anna yawned, “almost done with this one.”

“You were falling asleep.”

Anna deflated. “All right. I guess I’ll call it a night.” She paused for a bit. “Wait did you say ‘we’?”

“Of course. I’m just as curious about the Mystery as you are.”

“Then it’s settled!”

Olaf shifted in his sleep, prompting Anna to clamp a hand over her mouth.

“All right, off to bed, both of you,” Elsa gently chided.

_________

The smell of food roused Hans from his sleep. He half expected birds to be chirping in the sunlight, but then he recalled nothing lived here. It was just him and the Mystery.

As he blinked sleep away, he found himself facing the tree he was by, and his sword was no longer in front of him. Sitting up, he turned around to see the Mystery roasting a fish over a fire.

The Mystery gave him a brief wave. Fish wasn’t exactly Hans’s idea of breakfast, but it didn’t mean he minded it.

The Mystery pointed toward something near him, and Hans looked down at the open notebook. And his sword had remained untouched.

~How’d you sleep?

Hans gave him a skeptical look. “Fine.”

The Mystery nodded, and he handed the skewered fish to the redhead. It was roasted fairly well and was properly prepared—to the best of one being out in some mystical woods.

Still skeptical, Hans merely glanced between the fish and the thief.

The Mystery sighed through his nose before pointing to the notebook again and turning his hand over. Hans then proceeded to turn the page.

~It’s not poisoned if that’s what you’re thinking.

Hans gave him another look before taking the stick. The Mystery took the notebook as Hans bit into the fish. It tasted very well for—wait was that rosemary? That was surprising.

“This is . . . very nice,” he concluded.

The Mystery nodded, and Hans noticed a patch in place of the tear.

“I see you’ve fixed you sleeve.”

Another nod.

“With stolen material.”

The Mystery tilted his hand from side to side.

Silence settled over the duo, and the Mystery’s attention remained on the fire. He remembered when his friend used to make fish like that, although his had more seasonings on it. Every time he brought over those ingredients, he knew what they were having.

But that was ages ago.

Now that memory was just something he used to not die out here.

Hans tossed the stick into the fire, and the Mystery flinching didn't go unnoticed.

“About our conversation last night,” Hans started.

The Mystery looked to him.

“I still have questions that need answering.”

The Mystery gestured for him to keep going.

“What is this ‘unique quality’ you claim I have?”

~Something fierce. I don’t think you should know just yet.

“And why shouldn’t I know?”

~One thing at a time. First we need to get you to Queen Elsa and Princess Anna.

Hans frowned. This thief absolutely loved dodging questions. “This will work how, exactly?”

~They’re uptight because of me. We let things cool down first before I get you in.

“And you have a plan for this?”

~I’m working on it. And if his plan was going to work, there were some things that needed to be done. Which required some . . . doing.

“Do you mind telling me about this plan of yours?”

~Yes. I do mind.

Hans frowned again.

The Mystery sighed and wrote again. ~Look, I’m sorry. It’s nothing that has to do with you. I’m the problem.

Hans raised an eyebrow. “Are you?”

The Mystery’s pencil remained glued to the paper before he wrote a single word. He paused again and chose his words carefully. And Hans simply analyzed him.

After a while the Mystery handed the notebook to the prince. ~Yes. In order for it to work, we need to trust each other. And I’m sure you’re having a tough time trusting me like I am with you.

“You’re a criminal.”

~So are you.

A bitter laugh escaped Hans. “I suppose I am.”

~So one of us has to budge.

Hans cast him a look before shifting in his place. “Tell me the name of the other kingdom this realm connects to.”

~It’s personal.

“Was it your home?”

The Mystery shook his head.

A straight answer. Or a lie. “Then why stay here? Thieves are usually on the move.”

~Quite a few kingdoms want me dead. I’d rather stay here.

“Fair point.”

The Mystery held his hand out, and Hans handed him the notebook. ~I’m surprised you kept me alive.

“I don’t have an interest in finishing you off. Besides, I want to know how your plan will go.”

~So you’re only curious, or you actually want that second chance?

Hans regrettably found himself unable to answer right away, and the Mystery once again held his hand out.

~Like I said before, I’m giving it to you because—

“I wasn’t always cruel and manipulative. You’ve said this.”

~You know I’m right.

“You claimed to have watched me.”

~And I did.

“And I’m supposed to believe you.”

~You have every right not to, but I’m telling the truth.

“You have a point.” Hans ran a hand through his hair and plucked out a leaf.

~Fix that hair of yours. You’re supposed to be a prince.

At Hans’s unreadable expression, the Mystery smirked.

_________

(Prologue) (Next chapter) (Previous chapter)

[treatian]

The Chronicles of the Dark One:  The Dark Curse

Chapter 126:  A Quiet Winter Evening in the Great Room

It was getting colder outside. Snow had begun to invade not only the mountain but also the little village below, evidence that it was no longer Fall, but certainly Winter. It was his slow season; the time of the year when no one dared trek up the mountain to make deals. He usually spent more of his time away, simply because it was warmer and busier outside his home. But this year he didn't. He couldn't. After what had happened with the "Queens of Darkness", as he called them, he found himself too spooked. Not for himself, but for Belle. She seemed to have recovered from her ordeal fine enough, but leaving more often meant leaving her alone in the cold castle and he didn't like that. It bothered him, thinking of her stranded by herself in a chilly stone castle, even if he had provided all she needed for the cold weather. Complete isolation for too long seemed cruel, even for him. Of course, the problem with that meant it wasn't one of them enduring the solitude, but the both of them.

Since the incident with Robin, they'd fallen into a schedule that separated them for most of their day. They saw each other at breakfast, at tea, and then from dinner and until they got tired. That had always worked well in the past. They'd been busy doing their own things; her with looking after the castle and its grounds and him with his work. But now, with the Winter, he found himself growing tired of the solitude. Without his deals or trips and the near blizzards that happened daily, he was bored. Nearly as much as Belle was. She wasn't done with cleaning the castle, but with the cold weather taking away her abilities to go outside, her work had slowed significantly. He'd stopped spying on her through the cauldron, just as he'd promised himself he would, and he'd tried to stop teasing her for his own entertainment as well and what he found was that it produced a comfortableness between them that he hadn't had with another human since he'd lived with Baelfire before the curse.

But that was only when they were in the same room.

Lately, once he ran out of work to do in the day and wanted something to combat the boredom, he found himself going to the Great Room to spin. And while months ago, he would have been happy to come into the room and find it empty of her, now he found the emptiness unsettling.

He told himself he sought her out because he was paranoid. He no longer looked in on her from the Cauldron, and unfortunately, the first time he'd done that, she'd been kidnapped. If he wondered where she was for too long, the fear he'd felt on that day when he couldn't find her came back all over again and he wandered the castle in search of her. He always checked the library first, but since the snow had begun, she'd taken to reading outside of her library, finding new nooks and crannies to hide in for reasons he couldn't understand. Sometimes the places he found her in were cozy and warm, other times, they made no sense at all. Like today…

"Oh!" he exclaimed, nearly jumping out of his bones as he found her in another of her unexpected spots. There was a little alcove where the previous King had placed a statue of a gargoyle. He couldn't imagine it was very warm, but there she was, shoved between the stone statue and the stone wall, her legs curled up under her, and her book in her lap. "I, uh…I wondered where you'd scurried off to?" he questioned, using his hands to imitated the practice before wondering why he had. That was a silly thing to do. Nevertheless, she smiled up at him in his awkwardness, and he felt his stomach tighten. He had nothing to say to her. Again. How had he not learned yet?! Time and time again, he came to find her, and time and time again, he found her only to find that he had nothing to say to her once he located her.

"Dusting the books again, I see…" It was a safe comment, a private joke between them. Her favorite method of dusting the books seemed to be reading them.

She smiled at the comment and gave a little nod. "It's, uh…it's my favorite," she admitted with a small blush. What, he wondered, might that be for?

"Oh?" She'd closed the book, but held the cover against her chest. He wanted to get a look at the spine. She had thousands of books up there, it seemed impossible to simply pick one as a favorite. He was curious, which one was it that she was so in love with?

"Yes, the uh…" she cleared her throat, shook her head almost nervously before looking back up at him. "The girl has my name. And it has all the elements that truly make a story great, you know. Far off places, daring sword fights, magic spells, even a prince in disguise."

"It seems to have found a good home then," he concluded, wishing she'd given him a title. It didn't matter that she hadn't. She'd given him a lot to go on, and it was going to be a long Winter. Perhaps sometime after she went to bed, he could make his way up to her library and figure it out for himself. It might keep the boredom away for a few hours.

"Did you, uh…did you…did you need something?" she asked, sitting forward eagerly, as if she wanted him to say "yes".

His mouth went dry. They were back to the same problem already, after barely one conversation. He had nothing to say to her, no reason to tell her why he'd been so curious about where she'd been. Only the knowledge that she looked small sitting in that little space, and cold as well. From this place, he could see snow falling out the window, and it made their Great Room look far more comfortable than this place. Sitting in the Great Room and spinning as she read seemed like a wonderful way to spend the rest of the afternoon until dinner. But how to get her there? He couldn't very well tell her to come and read. She was getting lazy enough on her own. He didn't want her to start thinking that she wasn't here to do chores.

"Ah…the table! In the dining room! It looked a bit dusty to me," he proclaimed suddenly thinking of something quickly enough. It was a lie. One that he had a feeling she knew he was making as she smiled and nodded. She blushed as she marked her page before standing up and running her hands over her long dress to take the wrinkles out. He wanted to offer his hand to help her out of the alcove, so instead, he took a step away. When she was out he led her through the halls and back to the Great Room. Once they were there, she fell out of step behind him as he went to the wheel, and she inspected the table. If she hadn't known he was lying before, then she did now. She'd just cleaned that table and the way she kept the castle, especially this room, it would be spotless. Still, he tried not to look at her as he worked wool on his wheel, and she left the room. A moment later, she returned and made herself busy. She dusted the table that wasn't dusty, and he continued to spin. She made her way around his collection and then dusted it as well as he continued to spin. She brought order to an already ordered room, and he continued to spin, ever aware of every move that she made around him. But it was only when it appeared that she was finishing up that he held his breath. Would she retreat? Go back to the library? Pick a new place to hide? Or would she stay? Perhaps read her book in the chair just like she did after dinner?

When she came back after returning her tools, he was hopeful, but even she seemed torn. He spun on and pretended not to notice, but it was impossible not to take note of the way she looked around the room, then from him to the door, over to his chair, then to the door that would take her down to her own chambers.

"I'm uh…I'll go grab dinner," she finally commented, wiping her hands on her skirt and leaving. He didn't respond to her comment, merely rejoiced at the thought that food was on its way, and that meant that she'd be spending the remainder of the day shut up in the room with him.

He finished off the batch of wool he was working on and checked the thread on the spindle, making sure it was well done. It was perfect, just as always. He sat down at his place at his table and stared into the fireplace. Considering the thread he'd just spun, he'd probably give this spool to Belle. She often did mending, this would be good thread for her to work with. But dinner meant that her work was done for the day. Maybe she'd make that her job tomorrow, that was a simple chore she could do in front of the fireplace, perhaps if she didn't think to do it he could suggest it, or maybe he could put a few holes in some of his shirts to ensure it. That was a good plan. But, of course, it would only take up one day. With the weather the way it was, they'd probably still have a few more weeks like this.

The clinking of china forced his gaze up from the fireplace to the doorway. Belle had returned. And with food in hand. He sat back in his chair, welcoming her service, and tried hard not to smile at her. He did that far too often as it was.

"I uh…I made stew," she declared, setting the table for him. "Should ward against the cold.

He nodded, but again tried not to smile and pulled his arm away so he wouldn't accidentally come into contact with her. When she was done she picked up her own bowl, as she usually did, and sat down to eat. Only she didn't eat. He heard a sharp hiss from her mouth as she sat down and set the bowl down on her legs before flapping her hands in the air. A burn? He'd only just started to shovel the stew into his mouth, but he knew he didn't usually take note of hot and cold the way normal people did. He supposed it was hot. Had she hurt her hands? Did she need healed?

She didn't seem too bad. She kept the bowl balanced there on her lap and stared into the fire, perhaps just giving it time to cool down. He ate another spoonful and tried to focus on something else, anything other than the potential that she was hurt.

He sighed and his mind went back to the conversation they'd had by the statue. Far off places, daring swordfights, magic spells, a prince in disguise…he'd read in his time. He could think of more than a dozen books that had those elements. But only one was her favorite. The woman in it shared her name. That was the biggest hint. Which of the dozen that he'd read had the name "Belle"?

A flinch at the fireplace drew his gaze and his mind back to her. She'd picked up her bowl, but flinched again at it as she squirmed in her seat. Was it that bad? Out of curiosity, he withdrew some of his magic and reached out a finger to touch his own bowl. He removed it quickly. Yes. It was that bad. It wasn't that she'd burned the soup, she must have just pulled it off the fire and not allowed it time to cool. That was his fault, he'd brought her down too early, disrupted her schedule. She was the one who was paying for it now. Ironic, in this place surrounded by snow and ice the worst thing for her was something-

Without warning, Belle was up and out of her seat. The bowl was in her hands but only for a second as she strode quickly to the other side of the table and set it down. He felt his heart stop and stared, watching her actions without inhibition. To pretend to ignore her at a time like this would have been foolish. What did she think she was doing?

As if in answer, he watched as she went back to the fireplace, placed her hands on the chair that she sat in, then gave a tug. And then another. And then another. He tried not to laugh. She was small, so small, and he knew that these chairs were heavy. They weren't the easiest thing in the world to move, and it scraped against the floor with every tug that she gave it in the direction of the opposite side of the table. Her intention was clear. After months of eating in the room with him by the fire, today was the day she dared to do more. Today was the day she dared to take a place at the table.

And he didn't know if he should laugh at her intentions, or shout at her. She was a servant, afterall. There was bold, and then there was brazen. This was both. Taking this step was…courageous? Stupid? Hilarious? He honestly didn't think there was a single adjective that described it. But he knew that it left a feeling in his mind that reminded him of the day he'd first met her at her father's palace. She was an unconventional one. Odd, not only for her age but also for her status, both her present and her former. Odd, outcast, strange…it had been a hundred years since people had called him those names to his face, but as he watched her struggle, it felt like it was only yesterday. Maybe that was why he felt admiration for her. Perhaps she reminded him of himself long ago when he'd wanted nothing more than a hand.

It seemed to take forever for her to move the chair, but she wasn't one to give up. Eventually, she had it in a place that she was happy with. She stood up to full height, and he watched as she rubbed a hand across her forehead, then lowered herself into the seat at the opposite end. She put a napkin gracefully across her lap, avoided his eyes, and picked up her spoon to eat. He watched as she took a few mouthfuls, wondering if she would look up at him as she ate, if she would dare to make eye contact or small talk. He wondered what he would do in such a situation. Would he say something to her? Smile? Frown?

But she never looked up. She just ate. And so he did too.

He stopped watching her, focused on his food, and ate as if there were nothing out of the ordinary even though everything seemed out of the ordinary. He pretended it was normal. When he finished with his dinner, he got up as he normally would, left his dishes behind for her to take care of, and went back to the wheel to finish the spool of thread for her.

When she predictably got up, gathered their dishes back on her tray and left, he let out a sigh he didn't know he'd been holding in. Was he sweating? He hadn't sweat since he was human, why did she make him feel like he was? Why was it that after he'd spent an entire meal watching her and wishing for dinner to be over, all he wanted was to have her back in the room. He shook his head.

Cabin Fever. That was all it was. Being stuck here together during the Winter was bound to have some strange effects on the mind, and this was one of them. They'd be fine as soon as the snow melted, and they could resume their ordinary activities. Activities that would no doubt have him spending less time in her company…

At that sad thought, he looked over at the table and observed the two chairs. It hadn't been like that since Baelfire was here. He hated to admit it, and never would out loud, but he liked it. He liked the time they spent together in this room in the quiet. He liked her boldness and her company. He liked their evenings together by the fire. When the Winter was over, he would be sad to see it go. But it was what it was. It had been well over a hundred years since he'd last enjoyed the company of another human. Perhaps, just this one time, it would be fine to enjoy it.

Before she returned, he rose from his spot at the wheel. He used his magic to put her chair back by the fire, just as she liked it. Then he summoned into his hands the book that she'd been reading, the one she said was her favorite. La Belle et la Bete…interesting. At the sound of feet on the stairs, he set the book on the cushion and quickly returned to his spot at the wheel. Behind him, the windows rattled with wind, reminding him that it was colder out than he could potentially feel. But she might be able to feel it, he realized. With a smile, he summoned a blanket and left it nicely folded on the back of her chair. He started to spin his wheel just as she came into the room, but shifted his eyes from her to the wool in his hand.

She was not as subtle as he was. He knew the second she realized what had been done because she stopped in her footsteps and looked it all over. He averted his eyes when she glanced suspiciously over at him, but returned them when he sensed she wasn't looking. She was beaming, smiling at what he'd left her as she crossed the room to her chair. He felt a fire of pride blaze inside of him as she took the blanket and wrapped it around herself before sitting down to read.

And just like that, all was well again. All was right and ordinary. She read. He spun. The wind blew, the snow fell, and Winter went on. She continued to read. He continued to spin. They relaxed, content in the company they created for one another.

[morethanithoughtofficialblog]

Chapter 14: Isn’t that punderful?

In which puns and feelings hit you like a brick.

*Your POV*

Something that still surprises me is the simplicity that the Underground people had in their daily lives. It was like living in a small town, where everyone knew everybody. Kids would go walking from their home to school and return safely, never fearing to be attacked by anyone. Because they knew them perfectly, and they knew them as well.

I've been learning that recently, hearing Asgore's stories. And thanks to all those generations and all those hidden memories, we could finally create one of the projects I was more eager to make: the Underground history book.

I must say that I had a lot of support on this project by a lot of people, either monsters or humans. Gaster provided me his scientific researches, Alphys and (surprisingly) Sans did as well. The three of them had an important role in the lab, but Gaster was the main Royal Scientist. Still, they all contributed with some information, making me understand the concept of souls and magic better.

Toriel got to meet and protect the eight humans that fell into the Underground, and that was really useful to establish how The Barrier was broken and why it was needed to be that way.

And well, every civilian helped me to know a general idea of how the Underground was: awful but full of hopeful people.

The most interesting part, or should I say person, it's Gerson: monster-turtle that has been living for a ton of years, and that was an important warrior in the war. He was alive before Asgore was even born! And so I spent some good hours talking to him...

"What... what was the name of your King when the war happened?"

"Reynor. Reynor Dreemurr, the great-grandfather of Fluffybuns"

"Fluffybuns?"

"Oh, hahaha! I mean Asgore, it's just a silly nickname I gave him! Don't mind this old man, hahaha!"

I smiled remembering that talk we had, being full of charm and comedy (from Gerson's part, of course. I'm no good at jokes). Monsters normally have the same age structure as humans do (years have 365 days usually, they turn one year older after that specific amount of days, etc.). That means that one human year is equal to one monster year: there's no difference at all.

And just like turtles, Gerson has lived a lot of years. According to his exceptional memory (that surprises me a lot, mine being not able to remember what I ate yesterday), the war happened three hundred and twenty-one years ago, and it ended three hundred and nineteen years ago. He was just a young warrior when that happened, he being in his mid-twenties (just as I am right now, yay! ...I need to concentrate).

Reyson Dreemurr lived a ton of years as well and married at a very old age. That explains mostly why there hasn't been a lot of Dreemurr generations after the war. The interesting fact, though, is that the eight human children fell into the Underground during Asgore's commandment, none of them before him.

"Those eight buckos, including the Prince Chara, fell into the Underground probably because the legends were starting to fade, young lady"

"So you are insinuating that people took the story as a joke, especially the kids?"

"Yep, like a bedtime story... just like us, isn't that right? Hahaha!"

Gerson was right: monsters were almost recently taken as fantastic creatures, as myths, and nonexistent. In all honesty, I considered them that as well. But if I was living in Ebott City since I was a kid, maybe it would have been different.

...

Maybe.

Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I was on the Prince Chara's place... and no, I don't mean in his current place, but to actually have Toriel and Asgore as parents and have a goat brother. I wonder how it could have been to go to school with the young monsters I know, or if I would ever babysit Papyrus and help him with homework. It...

It sounds like a good life, honestly.

Way better than mine, at least.

But I realize that, even if that would have happened, life wouldn't be full of roses and glitter (that idea doesn't sound appetizing either). And I know it's rude to talk like this, but Sans's case is a pure proof of what I'm trying to imply. But maybe there was something in his life that made him different...

After all, he has PTSD.

God, I sound like a jerk.

I mean, I have PTSD as well, so... there's no difference between his case and mine. The only important thing is that his painful past happened in the Underground, the "simple town" I was describing so cheerily five seconds ago. My painful past happened in the Surface, the place all of them cherished for years.

So even if we can go on and live in Perfection Land, our lives will never be perfect. Mine, for example, was shitty and uninteresting before they came. And I only have a general perspective of their lives, but I don't know them deeply...

And we return to why monsters are so similar to us: because they have a story behind that smile. And not all people will know that story. And that includes me.

Depression is an easy topic to talk about if you find a person with the same thing. However, the reasons behind it it's the difficult part since that's what actually shows your vulnerability. So yeah, when you already have it diagnosed it's easy to tell others "Hey, I have depression!", but to tell them why or when it started it's technically telling them your story.

And when you can't tell your story and neither can cry about it, then what's the matter in feeling like not saying it? Just scream that you have depression and, well, the rest will come later...

You: Hi Sans!

Sans: hello kid

Sans: how ya been?

You: Good good, how are you feeling?

Sans: eh, i guess i'm fine

Sans: not that i'm depressed or anything

Heh.

There's no difference between his case and mine.

You: Yeah, I know how it feels

Sans: to be depressed all the time?

You: Sans

You: I'm even depressed right now

Sans: huh

Sans: then u need someone raisin your spirits often?

And he just sent an image of a raisin.

Great.

You: Sans, you are awful

Sans: hey, whaddya mean?

Sans: i put my heart in it

You: Well

You: Thanks to you, I have no raisin to continue living

You: You jerk

Sans: oh my god, i'm sorry

Sans: i never meant to make your pain more...

Sans: unpearable

You: Nah, don't sweat it

You: My life was already a peach of shit

I laughed way too hard when I saw Sans calling me after that lame pun. It took me a while before gaining my breath and finally accepting his offer.

"Hello?" I asked in a fancy tone, like if I didn't know who was calling.

"hello, ma'am. may i have a word with you before i can let you live your slow death in peace?" he replied with the same fancy tone I used, and I instantly burst out in laughter, he following me immediately.

"Sans, why are you calling me?"

"to congratulate ya. you have my respects now"

"What are you even talking about?!"

"not everyone can joke about wanting to die, ya know" he let out a laugh, then continued "and less using puns"

Well, he's right, I guess.

"Sans, just end the call already"

"ok"

He just remained silent, but the call still continued. I stared at the phone with a silly smile on my face, then I groaned silently. I heard him chuckling at my reaction, then he said he will never hang up, which was bullshit since he hung up five seconds after saying that.

Sans: are u there?

You: No.

Sans: rude

Sans: i just wanted to say hi

You: That's the biggest lie I've heard in a while

Sans: what?

Sans: can't a skeleton cover his crippling depression?

You: Oh c' mon

You: Don't go all meloncholic over me

Sans: wow, another food pun?

Sans: please berry me alive before the world ends

You: Do you know what food I would be if I got to choose?

Sans: ?

You: A donut, 'cause I'm empty inside

Sans: same

Sans: i donut see the point in living anymore

Is it necessary to say I was having the time of my life? You can't tell depression jokes to everyone and having a partner to do so felt amazing. Medicine and therapy? More like jokes and puns!

Sans: do you want a tip to deal with depression?

You: I hear you

Sans: drink coffee

You: really?

Sans: yeah

Sans: expresso expresso, no more depresso!

And you bet I laughed, mostly because I drink coffee every day. Maybe I should start ordering expresso though.

You: Oh my God

You: PEMDAS

Sans: pemdas?

You: Please End My Depression And Suffering

And Sans called me again, only to hear him dying of laughter. We ended up telling more jokes all over the phone instead of chatting, him not caring about his brother hearing. Then we both went to tell darker jokes and really cruel stuff that a depressed person would joke about... just like us.

So I really don't understand why I take my problem as something humerus, but if one thing I've learned through all these years dealing with the same things is that crying is horribly useless. And people say that laughter is the best medicine, so I'm technically helping myself and, of course, Sans.

But hey, life hasn't been that bad lately. I was admitted to have a job interview (which I'll have tomorrow) in that small company, and I have more reasons to wake up and do things of my own. And I've been trying to put myself into drinking pills again, even if I don't like the fact that my mood depends on some medicines.

Talking about medicines...

"Hey Sans, do you have the pills you need already?"

"eh..." Oh he doesn't "crap, i forgot to go to the drug store yesterday"

Knew it.

"Well, I can gift you some if you want to. I have some spare pills here in my drawer, and I think I have the same medicaments the doctor prescribed you"

"that would be nice, but are you sure you want to bother yourself? besides, they are not that cheap, kid..." he had this slight hint of doubt in his voice, which made me smile gently.

"Eh, consider it as a present" I simply answered while I shrugged, even if he couldn't see me doing so.

"kid, if i'm gonna take the pills, then..." he made a long pause, then he sighed sadly "can you promise me something?"

Promise?

"It... depends"

"kid, you need to take care of yourself as well" he startled me a bit, and he somehow noticed how taken aback I was "if it wasn't for papyrus, i would probably have killed myself by now. so i just want to tell ya that you don't have to deal with this alone. it must suck being alone with the crap of your head all the time. so whenever you want to talk about, well, anything... you have me here, kid. and paps is more than open to help as well"

Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry.

...

Shit.

"Hey, thank you. It means a lot to me"

"no probllama"

Seriously-

"An animal pun? Really?" I stopped right there, then I smiled "You've cat to be kitten me"

"i'm sorry, i didn't do it on porpoise"

"That's the sealiest joke I've ever heard"

"i never asked you to let minnow what you think"

"You're giraffing me crazy"

"nah, you're lion"

And so all seriousness disappeared and the puns were all over our conversation. I'm not that good on them, but Sans is clearly experienced with them. I'm better telling jokes of dark humor than silly animal puns. Still, I tried to keep 'em going.

"oh, by the way, papyrus says hi"

"Tell him I say hi as well"

"shore thing, (y/n)"

"I sea what you did there"

And after a few minutes, the call ended, me remembering that I had to give Sans the pills before the day was over. Or well, Papyrus remembering me all over the phone, screaming to his brother to go to the drug store before he dragged him himself (savage).

I took a skele-ton of pills and put them in my laptop's briefcase (since I'm too poor to buy a Gucci bag), then I ran to the bathroom to check myself in the mirror. Decent hair, no rests of make-up... perfect. I dragged a pink hoodie (because why not) that said: "Yes, I'm CUTE: Cringy Ugly Terrible Empty", some simple black shoes and I left my apartment behind... not before going back to grab my almost forgotten briefcase.

I took the subway and put my headphones on, forgetting the rest of the world while I heard some Nirvana music. Yep, this is who I've become: a young adult that takes the train every single day of her life and puts on music all the trip, trying to dismiss my problems.

What a good life.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

*Arial's POV*

I heard some lively and deep laughter coming from Sans's room, my older child. I wanted to go on and check on him, but... does he really wants me there with him? I haven't been the best mother for my two children, especially for him, so... I let it be.

Sighing desperately, I went over the kitchen to see if I could do something, anything, with my time. I wasn't at home often in the Underground, so cooking isn't my strength. But if I really want to become a normal mother for them, then I had to start making dinner. I sighed again, knowing this was never the life I wanted out in the Surface.

I know this is really selfish to say, but I genuinely preferred my life down there. I was part of the Royal Guard (as a secretary mostly) and one of the most important roles in the Kingdom. I'll always let the King now if there was any problem at the schools, or if there was any planning of a protest. On weekends, my husband and I would sometimes have fun like our teenager times, or I would casually (and awkwardly when Sans grew older) visit the kids.

...it would be pretty stupid for me not to know what I did wrong. Sans trusted us, and he once felt happy when he was around us. But we treated them as only a partial company, and now he's angry and almost mad. Now he doesn't trust us anymore, and Papyrus is trying. We were never parents to our smaller child... but to Sans, we once were. And that's why he's the most hurt.

I first became a mother when I was sixteen years old and Gaster eighteen. It's unnecessary to say it was an accident, but I was too scared to try this method called "abortion", which was recently adopted in the Underground at that time. Gaster was afraid that our new son could ruin our professional lives, but he recognized himself that the abortion wasn't secure. And so I gave birth to Sans, which I don't know if it was the best for him. I haven't given him the life he deserves, and I deeply regret being too young and too stupid to not understand how beautiful the role of a mother can be. I've seen how Toriel treated her boys and how now she treats her girl, and I can't help but admire her for being brave enough to sacrifice everything she dreamed of and decided to make THEIR dreams come true.

But instead, I choose to make my ideal life come true. Because I never wanted any children... not until Papyrus, I guess. That was seven years after being responsible for Sans, just when I told myself I should be a better mother, and so I felt forced to have another one to take care of.  

I, however... never got to be the responsible mom I wanted to be deep inside of me. And so Sans had another problem: taking care of his little brother...

There...

There was even some time that I COMPLETELY forgot about their existence...

I just remember that, after realizing I had children, Sans started to hate me. He was overprotective (and he still is) over Papyrus, and whenever I tried to make him understand, he would say "you should not waste your words into lies".

Can...

Can I have a chance to be a good mother, even if now my grown son is twenty-two years old?

I...

Before breaking down in tears in the kitchen, I heard Papyrus running unheavenly fast through the door, then I heard a familiar feminine voice. That voice was not more and not less than the one of our dear ambassador, (Y/N) (L/N). She greeted him as kind as she's ever been, and he exclaimed happily how honored he was to have her in our home. She laughed politely, then Sans teleported to the living room, talking in an enthusiastic tone I haven't heard from him in years. I should have felt good, but it wasn't for me who he was happy for. It was her.

I...

I mean, she could get his trust faster than I'll ever be capable of.

I...

I don't know what to think.

She waved at me discretely with a lovely smile, and I felt more like crying. She's young and making her dreams come true because she was smart enough. She planned her future perfectly, and here she is: healthy, a bright future reflected in her eyes, and a beautiful heart and energy that both the kids admire.

I saw how (Y/N) gave Sans some... medicaments, I think, and he thanked her with a smile he never gave me. They joked a bit and Papyrus groaned playfully, then all of them went into a fit full of laughter.

"OH (Y/N)! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, ENJOYS YOUR COMPANY A LOT! AND I BET SANS DOES AS WELL! WE'RE TRULY HONORED TO HAVE YOU HERE, YOUNG LADY!"

Yes, he's a wonderful child, but I can't be proud of him.

Because I didn't raise him...

Sans did.

[berensaats]

kösem season 2 sentence starters / part 2

Here is an assortment of quotes to be used as starters or ask memes, all taken from the second season of the Turkish period drama Magnificent Century: Kösem. I translated all of them and English isn’t my first language, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes. Adapt them as you wish! Part 1.

“You and the way you look at me give me hope. It reminds me that I’m alive.”

“I came here to remind myself I’m alive, but I’ve just realized I am no different from a dead person.”

“Sometimes humans… we are prisoners in this world.”

“If you want to turn this into a war, then we will use our most powerful weapon. We’ll take our wisdom and use it against you.”

“I don’t need anyone’s protection, so don’t waste your energy.”

“We both knew the consequences, knew it was forbidden… but, trust me, I do not regret it.”

“If I must die, then may it be you who takes my life.”

“Obedience is not earned through executions!”

“I don’t recognize you. It is as if your soul has frozen.”

“While you insist on fighting the ‘oppressors’, you have become one of them.”

“Ever since you’ve reachen the top of the mountain you’ve forgotten a few things: it has snow, thunder and freezing winds; spring is never close and the only way of going back down is falling.”

“Tonight, while the city celebrates, we shall be crying.”

“Rather than dying in foreign lands, I want to die in my land, my home.”

“I have no strength left, because I couldn’t be as cruel as them and I could never be.”

“It turns out your biggest enemy is yourself, and you’ve already lost this battle long ago.”

“I seek loyalty from my subjects, not flattery.”

“If being a ruler means being like you, I don’t ever want to become one.”

“Every prince sees the throne as their natural right; it’s in their nature.”

“Ambition is certainly something to be feared.”

“I’ve already changed the order and there’s no coming back!”

“Instead of learning from the past you’d rather blame me.”

“If it is my destiny, may I die for your cause. Know that, for me, this would be the sweetest death.”

“Two servants can share in their chores, but two rulers cannot coexist in the same world.”

“Those who die go to a place of happiness and peace, while those who remain alive are trapped in pain and sorrow.”

“This is the price of being by my side… of being loyal to me… of loving me.”

“Not even a million candles could shine as bright as the fire in your soul.”

“For years I’ve hidden my feelings for you, kept them secret because it was forbidden, impossible, but now…”

“Although I know I’ll lose my head, I’m not ashamed of saying the truth.”

“When we were kids this was our playground, now it’s our prison.”

“Whenever my heart is hurting you’re the only one who notices it.”

“I feel as if I were surrounded by blood and I were dying.”

“I wish to be like him… merciful, just.”

“The earth is frozen. It can’t stand yet another tomb.”

“They saw you as a normal person, but you had a thousand worlds inside you.”

“If I were to cry my eyes would pour storms, but it’s better that my heart bleeds in secret.”

“What a pity that the eyes that once smiled are now shedding thousands of tears.”

“You are not the type to lose and accept defeat. It’s not in your nature.”

“I have personally seen you getting back up after storms, fire and death. You always get back up.”

“No darkness could put off your light. Don’t surrender.”

“There is no cure for the loss of your loved ones; no medicine can heal this pain.”

“I am back on my feet, like always, because I have no other choice.”

“Fear goes hand in hand with courage. Whenever you’re afraid, use it as your shield.”

“No shield is invincible as long as who strikes it doesn’t doubt their own stregth.”

“Open your eyes. This bloodshed is your fault!”

“I don’t want to sit in this blood-bathed throne!”

“How can one get bored of a dream?”

“I have never in my life done something I didn’t think was right. Never.”

“No one else saw it, no one knew, but I saw your wings.”

“You had a spirit just like mine: brave, powerful, that would bow to no one nor do anything it didn’t want to. This is what united us, but also what drew us apart.”

“Don’t think your existence ends upon death. Your body dies, but the soul God gave you lives.”

“No secret remains hidden, and one day this secret of yours will be the reason of your death.”

“Renouncing you isn’t so easy.”

“Your era is over, now mine begins.”

“You are the only one who understands me, the medicine to my soul.”

“I know that, if you want to be the most powerful tomorrow, you must destroy whoever is the most powerful today.”

“Whoever tries to drown you will end up drowning themselves.”

“This is not about my desires but about your safety.”

“You are my happiness,your presence is. I want nothing more than to be by your side.”

“Would you read me a book? I close my eyes while you read and imagine myself in its world, what do you think?”

“Every day you ignore and hate me you’re killing me.”

“Since you’ve chosen to be enemies with me, I’ll show you what being my enemy means.”“Is this how dark your heart has become?”

“Can a person ever forget the ones they love?”

“Accept that you’ve underestimated me and this will cost you greatly.”

“As usual your arrogance has blinded you.”

“Don’t you realize you are throwing your own self into the fire?”

“Innocence was the first thing I lost when I rose to power.”

“All that once was glorious and magnificent, destiny can turn into a bloody, disastrous ending.”

“You only wanted to protect them, and the only way to achieve it was by making yourself powerful. But this thing you call power has ruined all of their lives.”

“You loved the power and power poisoned you.”

“Power poisoned and blinded you, and you ended up without your conscience, without your mercy and without your innocence.”

“Innocence was your real weapon. Your shield and your sword.”

“Now… you are a tyrant. A murderer.”

“This throne is covered in blood, you’re mistaken if you think you’ll find peace sitting in it.”

“I didn’t come to try and change your mind, I came to be by your side.”

“I’m willing to accept whatever comes from you. Your rage, your favour, I happily accept everything.”

“I’ve understood that you are in my path. You are my fate.”

“Years ago the strings of fate tied me to you so tightly that only death can make us part.”

“My conscience will be at rest, but what about yours?”

“Perhaps this is your punishment. They do say all tyrants die alone.”

“I was alone in my hardest moments! There was no one by my side!”

“A hurricane of yours could not put out a single candle of mine.”

[crowkingwrites]

War Creatures (Ch.1)

Pairing: Loki/ Reader

Summary: In a crossover of the Nine Realms and Westeros, you find yourself in the dawn of a rebellion. Odin, Lord of Pyke, has made alliances with your family, House Grover of Highgarden. Your father's army will join Odin's army to overthrow the King and take the Iron Throne. There is just one cost to this alliance.You must marry the dark, young prince Loki.In a world where Kings do as they wish, where war is an oncoming storm, and peace is nothing but a dream, you are lost but brave. Loki is more powerful than he seems, and love will grow from the flames of war.

Requested?: Sort of?

Words: 2615

Read on Ao3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11108748/chapters/24790230

Highgarden was open. It was a dream to many, but a home to me. This place was not like the rest of the nine kingdoms. Highgarden was a sanctuary. The castle sat on a high hill overlooking the waters of Mander. Many visitors insisted that our castle grew here rather than being built. Flowers and plants grown over tiles and columns, overtaking the stone.

I sat in one of my favorite chairs just outside my room. This is where I usually took my morning tea, but I was currently reading another book of poetry, snacking on oranges.

I peeked at the maids below me carrying sheets towards the washing rooms. They were laughing to themselves. Something about another servant accidently falling into a pool of water. I heard in other kingdoms the maids constantly frown and you can see the bags under their eyes. My father has always taught me that these were my people, not beings I can order around. It made me smile to know my servants were happy.

“Cecilia!” I turned to see my septa call me. She waved her hand at me to go with her. I put down my book, and hurried to her side. Maybe was an anxious woman. Her head was always covered even on the hottest days.

“What’s wrong?” I asked her.

“Your father requires your presence,” Maybe said. “It is very important, do you understand? Very important.” We continued down the hallway. My father’s men passed us in the hallway. I tried to say hello, but when they saw me they looked away.

“Maybe,” I said. “Is Sir Petra feeling okay? He looked sick.”

“Now is not the time for questions,” Maybe answered flatly.

“But—

“Cecilia, please not now,” Maybe interrupted me. More of my father’s men emerged from the main hall. None of them met my eyes either. They kept walking. One pair whispered to each other while looking at Maybe.

I shook my head. This couldn’t be as bad as I thought it was. Maybe I was overthinking things.

We approached the doors to my father’s hall. Our family sigil craved in the middle. A book with a single eye on the cover. I looked back at my poor septa who was wringing her hands together.

“Are you coming?” I asked.

“Your parents wish to speak with you alone. I will see you tomorrow morning for our walk, my dear,” Maybe turned to leave.

“What do you mean tomorrow morning? What about late afternoon tea? We always have late afternoon tea,” I said. Maybe looked over her shoulder at me.

“I expect you will need time alone to reflect, my dear. Now, go inside. They are expecting you,” Maybe walked away, and I knocked the heavy, wooden doors to my father’s hall.

Guards opened the doors to my somber-looking parents. Lord Garth and Lady Magnolia Grover of Highgarden sat in their respective thrones before me in the hall. They had closed the windows, but the sun still reached the inside of the room. It changed the hall entirely.

The branch-like beams that once looked like strong trees on the ceiling, now looked like a frightening forest. The banners hung along the room stared at me instead of greeting me.

My mother, Lady Magnolia, wore a dark green dress. Her hair was half tied back as usual, and she wore a frown on her face. She was a critical woman. I was her eldest, so I was used as an example for my sisters.

My father, Lord Garth, was the opposite of my mother. He was a large, happy man. He tried to avoid my gaze, but I caught him every time. Something was not right. Something was wrong.

My father waved his hand to the guards, and they shut the heavy wooden doors behind them. It was only us three in the room now.

“Cecilia, come closer,” My father said. I noticed the pint of ale next to him. My father never drank during the day unless he was stressed.

“Father, what’s wrong? What’s going on?” My father looked down and let out a long sigh.

“Cecilia, when you were born, I was so happy,” he started. “I had secretly hoped for a boy because I wanted an heir. Then the wet nurse handed you to me, and I was in awe of you, Cecilia. I felt apart. You were so small and vulnerable. I promised myself that morning to protect you and your sisters from everything.

“Of course, when you began to read, I let you read anything you pleased. Poems, epic tales, religion, philosophy, anything you wanted. Your mother and I were excited that you were a curious girl, but we kept things from you and your sisters.”

“What kinds of things?” I asked.

“Things going in the nine kingdoms. I have kept news of the capital and other kingdoms from you, but now I no longer can.”

“I don’t understand, father,” I said. “I am always updated on the news in the capital. I have a report every morning. One of my maids tells me the news every morning with my tea.”

“Do you not think I would filter her? Your chambermaid is to tell you what I deem is appropriate. I have been lying to you, Cecilia. Please do not be angry with your maid. She was following my orders.” I felt my fists balled up at my sides. My nails dug into my palms.

House Grover prided itself on knowledge. Our words “Knowledge is Power” was known throughout the nine kingdoms of Westeros. We invested time and a lot of our money into the pursuit of knowledge, and here was my father keeping information away from me.

“What have you been hiding from me?” I growled.

“Cecilia, do not growl at your father like that,” my mother scolded me.

“Let her be angry, Mags. I knew she would be. I need her angry,” my father patted my mother’s lap, soothing her.

“You need me angry? Why?”

“Because what I have been hiding from you and your sisters is something that will make you either very angry or very scared. I need you angry. You are no use to me scared.” My father sounded cruel, but he was right. Cowards rarely get anything done.

“Cecilia, look at me,” my mother said. “You must not tell your sisters. Do you understand? The less they know, the better.”

“Now you are scaring me. What could be so awful?” I asked.

“His Grace, Malekith of House Vindici, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Nine Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm must die.”

“What?”

“King Malekith has gone mad with power, Lia. He has hurt innocent people. He wishes to create a child army so he can raise them, so they can be loyal to him. He has promoted slavery across the realm, along with slave fighting, sex slaves, and abuse to his own people, the Dark Elves. He must die, and there must be a new king.”

“Father, this is treason,” I said quietly. “As angry as I am, I will not allow you to do this by yourself. I cannot allow this. If Malekith is this cruel to his loyal subjects, I cannot imagine what he will do to you.”

“No Lia. Allow me to finish. Lord Odin from Pyke is leading a rebellion against King Malekith. He is gathering men from the North and creating alliances. He wrote to me a month ago about an alliance between us. I agreed to take on this alliance with him.”

“So there will be war?”

“Yes, there will be war. But first, an alliance will be made.”

“I thought you said we were allies of Pyke already. Did you not send word that you agreed?” I asked.

“I have, and Odin knows, but we need to make this alliance official. We need something that ties us together, Cecilia,” My father stood up and took my hands. “We need a marriage.”

At first, I was confused. Why was my father speaking of marriage when he was already married? My father stared at me longer, and then it hit me.

“I see. That is why you need me angry. That is why you called for me. I am to be married,” I said out loud. It made sense now. Why Maybe was so distant, why my parents were so somber, why there was no one else in this hall. My mother stood up and joined my father.

“I want you to know that we discussed this at great length, and it is time for you to marry. You are ready. You are old enough, you have bled, and you are mature enough for this,” my mother said. My mouth felt dry, and I couldn’t look at either of them. My heart started to race.

“Who is he? Who is my betrothed?”

“He is my son,” I heard a voice say from behind my parents. A woman stepped out from behind the curtains in the corner. Her golden brown hair was tied back in braids on top of her head. She wore a combination of armor and dress. She impressed me. She also intimidated me.

“Who are you?”

“I am Lady Frigga of House Odinson. I have been looking forward to meeting you, Cecilia,” she said. “You will be marrying my son, Loki. I believe you two would be great match for each other.” My mother coughed when she said that. I had a feeling my mother wasn’t so supportive of this.

“How do you know?” I asked.

“Mother’s intuition,” Frigga looked at my mother when she said that. It was obvious. Frigga and my mother did not agree on this marriage completely. “Now that you are aware of events that are to come, I was hoping to take afternoon tea with you. I would like some time to get to know my future daughter.”

“Alright,” I said and nodded. My mother, Frigga, and I left the main hall. Guards led the way to tea. It didn’t feel real yet. Our king would not hurt his own people. What kind of a king would do that? Why would he hurt his own people in the first place?

And I was to be married. Yesterday, my mother was telling me how childish it was to be running around in the gardens, and now she thinks I’m mature enough to be married. Lady Frigga was kind, but I’ve heard things about her son. Dark things.

My mother and Frigga did not speak to each other during the walk. I did not blame her. My mother was never considered a people person. That was my father’s expertise.

The tea table was set with various small foods and fruits. The tea was not warm, but cool and sweet when it hit your mouth. I had so many thoughts going through my mind. I waited for my mother or Frigga to speak first.

“Cecilia, Magnolia,” Frigga started. “I have heard word that Highgarden was a beautiful castle, but now that I see it no words can do it justice.”

“Thank you,” I said, taking another sip of tea. “I must apologize. I have never been to another castle before. I have read about Pyke. Is it truly always storming?” Frigga chuckled.

“Not always, but it does storm often. Now that I think about it, the last time I saw clear skies and the sun was many moons ago,” she said. I hummed in response. Frigga shifted in her seat and looked at me directly.

“This is a lot, I know,” Frigga said. “I reacted the same way when my mother told me I was to be married to Odin. It is a scary thought.”

“My daughter is not scared,” My mother interjected.

“I said it was a scary thought. Not that Cecilia is scared. However, when you hide so many things from your child, I can only assume that child is not going to be too happy hearing about an impending war.”

“I will not sit here and let you criticize how I raise my daughters,” my mother’s anger was rising.

“Mother, please,” I stopped her. “I apologize, Frigga. My mother and father only meant to raise me without heavy things on my mind. Knowledge is powerful, but sometimes it can be too much to bear.” My mother sat back, looking defeated.

“I apologize as well,” Frigga said. “Clearly, you raised a bright young lady, Magnolia.” My mother nodded, but she could not look at me. She was a proud woman.

“Why me?” I said. “Why not Lady Sif of Casterly Rock? Wouldn’t that be closer to you?”

“It is closer. However, Lady Sif is to marry my eldest, Thor. We wanted you because Highgarden is not only home to many farmlands, but also your soldiers are smart people. My husband Odin knows war, but only to an extent. Your father and his soldiers are seasoned in war on land and sea.”

“You need our intelligence and numbers,” I said.

“Exactly,” Frigga continued on. “We are gathering as many allies as we can. You and Sif are the keys to secure two of our biggest alliances. These marriages are very important to this rebellion, Cecilia.”

“I understand,” I said. I looked around, trying to take it all in. The air was tense and hard to breathe. “Maybe was right.”

“About what? What did Maybe tell you?” my mother questioned.

“Maybe never said a word to me about any of this,” I explained. “But she did tell me that I would need time to reflect. That this meeting was very important and I would need time for myself. I hope you do not take offense, Frigga, but I must cut this off early. I wish to walk around.”

“I understand, my dear,” Frigga smiled. “Maybe another time?” I stood up and my mother followed me without saying goodbye to Frigga. When we were out of earshot of her, my mother started speaking.

“Cecilia, I want you to know. I did not want this. I do not want this,” my mother kept walking with me. “I tried to reason with your father. If there was another way, I would have made him do it.”

“All my life you have prepared me for two things: marriage and to be the lady of Highgarden. Why are you so against this now?”

“This is not what I wanted for you. I wanted a respectable lord for you. House Odinson of Pyke and their men are savages, Cecilia.”

“I know they pillage and they love a good fight, but that doesn’t mean they are savages, Mother. You taught me better than that.”

“They are rough and ill-mannered. They follow a different god. Frigga may not tell you, but I will. Thor may be the strongest warrior of Pyke, but his brother Loki has a different kind of power. You need to be careful.”

“You told me there was no true power to rumors.”

“Not these rumors. I must go back to Frigga to start the wedding plans. I’ll leave you here,” My mother took my hands. “I don’t say this often to you, but I am proud of you, Lia especially today. I will see you at dinner.” My mother kissed my cheek and left me to my thoughts.

This was happening whether I liked it or not. I have read about war. Some of the older servants lost their loved ones to it. War was not a good thing, but it was necessary. A king gone mad is not fit for the throne. He must perish, and I will do my part.

[fanfic-collection]

In a Name: Ch 3

The formatting is weird so I’ll put the read more here.

There was no note. You looked around uncertainly before making your way back to the front door. It was quite clear that no one was around. You pursed your lips uncertainly. At long last, you sighed and returned inside. There was no way Loki would have spent such an exuberant amount on you today. And surely he couldn’t have returned to the shop, purchased it, and managed to arrive back at your home without you noticing. Perhaps it was one of the men at the tavern who you had recently turned down their advances. Even so, you couldn’t bring yourself to look a gift horse in the mouth and quickly set about reading it. - - Loki sighed heavily as he reentered the palace. He had already left his horse to be tended to. Walking along the relatively deserted halls, he stumbled slightly and leaned against the wall for support. Sending a double, managing to unlace your boots, and then riding back at full speed so his absence would not be so quickly noticed by Thor had exhausted him. He wanted nothing more than to curl up with a good book and read beside his fireplace. Loki sighed inwardly as he heard Thor’s familiar boot steps approaching from down the hall. Straightening up, Loki turned around and forced a smile. “Hello Thor.” He called, trying to add some enthusiasm to his voice. “Brother,” Thor replied evenly, but with only a slight smile. The smile soon vanished. Loki eyed him warily, pulling away from the wall to mask his clear fatigue. “What’s wrong?” Loki asked, noticing Thor’s disquieted demeanor. “I just spoke with Mother.” Thor began slowly. Loki cringed inwardly, remembering his lie. “She said she knew nothing of your supposed lesson with her today.” “Ah yes, I suppose I must have forgotten that.” Thor glared at him, “So you left our sparring session early, why?” Thor’s expression slowly shifted to hurt and mildly dejected, almost like a neglected puppy. Loki sighed, closing his eyed, and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to think. “Apologies brother, I ordered a book recently and I was hoping it had arrived at the shop.” The lie came to him easily. Thor pulled a face, books never interested him. “Oh. Well why didn’t you say so?” “Because I wasn’t sure if it had actually arrived and I was quite excited for it. I didn’t want to deal with the usual mockery of it if I were to return empty handed and so disappointed.” Loki looked down sadly. Even if part of that was a lie, he was still used to the constant bemused looks people gave him whenever he showed excitement for his seidr or books. Those were generally looked down upon by the warrior society and he knew the pleasure he gleaned from them only brought more disapproval from Odin. Thor laughed, “If it were half as disappointed as I would be for ordering a piece of armour and it not arriving, I understand completely! Perhaps if you attempted to get something of more value, the shopkeeper would not be so lazy.” Loki grit his teeth and smiled thinly. Obviously Thor noticed the absence of a book in his hand. “Of course.” Loki forced a laugh. It briefly occurred to him that you would have not laughed, you would have understood his disappointment. He had clearly seen it in your eyes when you were forced to choose between what you needed and what you wanted. “Come now brother.” Thor clapped Loki on the back. “Let’s go get dinner.” “Fantastic.” Loki muttered. Another hour spent beside Odin, listening to his father lavish praise upon Thor’s abilities in battle. It had started immediately when they returned from Vanaheim. Thor was able to speak of the mighty blows he had struck on the spiders, leaving out the genius and effectiveness of Loki’s strategy. Between the dramatic discussion, Thor did mention Loki’s involvement with the fleeing spiders. That had earned something of an approved nod from Odin. Approval wasn’t quite the word, more of ‘about damn time you were useful.’ Loki’s thoughts returned to your mantra, ‘I must not be weak.’ He thought silently. It occurred to him that you must have learned that from somewhere, perhaps he could ask you at some point. The two arrived at the dining hall. Thor’s seat was on Odin’s left, Frigga was already seated beside Odin, and Loki’s seat was on the other side of Frigga. Frigga raised an eyebrow when she saw her sons enter, wondering what reason Loki had for lying. Just as quickly, she wondered what reason he would give. “Hello, my sons.” She greeted them with a smile. Odin looked over. “Thor, my son!” He beamed at the golden haired prince. Then he glanced at Loki trailing close behind his brother. “Loki.” He nodded. “Loki was off retrieving a book!” Thor announced to their parents with a laugh. Odin scowled but remained silent. Loki clenched his jaw and nodded, flushing at the clear embarrassment that Odin showed of him. “Oh?” Frigga asked. “What book is that?” “Nothing.” Loki muttered, “Just idle nonsense.” Thor and Loki both took their respective seats and prepared for the meal. “Idle nonsense?” Frigga asked once Loki had sat down, she raised her eyebrow. She seemed amused of Loki, but not in a mocking way. Never in a mocking way. She simply enjoyed the words he chose for it. “What nonsense has my youngest son been up to?” Frigga asked with a knowing smile. Loki glanced at her, the corner of his mouth quirking up slightly. “I went to one of the towns, there was a book that I wanted to read. I had heard of the author before and I recently found that they wrote another, I thought I might check there today.” Frigga nodded, “Of course! What book?” “’The Dragon’s Throne’.” “I’m unfamiliar with that one, you’ll have to let me borrow it when you’re finished.” Loki sighed, “It wasn’t at the shop I looked at. The last one had been sold already.” Frigga raised an eyebrow, then offered, “Perhaps you should track down this mysterious reader and find out why they took it.” Loki looked up confused. Frigga chuckled and rolled her eyes good-naturedly, “Perhaps you should see if you can make a friend of a shared interest?” Loki found himself nodding, a genuine smile spreading over his features. “Really? Do you think so?” “Absolutely. Now get eating, I’ll bet you’ve had a long day. And we do have lessons tomorrow, I found another trick that I think you might appreciate.” Loki started the rest of his meal, looking much happier than when he started. - - You stayed reading late into the night, long past Nox had given up trying to get your attention. Eventually you found yourself nodding off as you read. With a heavy sigh, you closed the book and promised yourself that you would finish it tomorrow. Just as the thought crossed your mind, you sighed again, remembering that you should be reading your new potion book. Perhaps during any downtime at the shop tomorrow you would be able to scan through the potion book for important tidbits. You got ready for bed and drifted off to sleep as soon as your head hit the pillow. That night you dreamt of the mysterious dark haired prince, your subconscious wondering just what motive he had for his kindness. You woke up uneasy, the doubt filled dreams still fresh in your mind. - Arriving at the shop later, you managed to help several customers before Nox showed up. “Well?” He demanded as he entered the shop, the door slamming shut behind him. You looked up from the potion book, “Well what?” You replied innocently. “Well what happened with Sif? And more importantly, what happened with the prince? Why didn’t you answer your door last night?” You scowled and set the book down. “Sif tried to apologize.” Nox waited in silence for you to elaborate. When you didn’t, he prompted you with an angry look. “She said she intends to make it up to me somehow, I’ve no idea. I told her to leave…” You mumbled the last bit, looking down. “Apparently I haven’t moved on as much as I’d hoped.” Nox’s face softened, “Don’t beat yourself up too hard.” You glanced up at him and smiled weakly, “I just feel like I should move on somehow.” “Is that why you won’t look into joining the guard?” Your eyes flashed angrily but you didn’t respond. “Sorry, that was uncalled for.” The two of you looked away silently for a time. Finally Nox broke the silence, “I see you got a new book.” You glanced over at the counter where your potion book lay. “Yea, it’s all the latest tricks from the outer realms.” “Any good?” He asked, doing his best to feign interest. “It’s not bad.” Nox chuckled, “I take it that’s a no then.” “It’s useful, but I’d rather be reading for pleasure.” Nox flopped down onto the stool, “I don’t know how you can be so much of a warrior yet like to read. All those tiny symbols clumped together, they hurt my head.” “Yes, that is because your skull is too thick for words to penetrate. I actually have to use my wits.” Nox rolled his eyes and laughed sarcastically, “Very funny.” You walked over and lightly punched his shoulder, “I’m just teasing.” “Alright, well what of the prince, you never answered that question.” You frowned, “He simply wanted to thank me for the anti-venom. It saved his companion’s life.” “That’s it?” You nodded then changed the subject, “Where were you yesterday?” Nox blushed and looked away, “Just the tavern.” You raised an eyebrow, “Were you chasing after that barmaid, Ava, again? She seems nice.” “No, she’s heartless and cruel, merely seeing men for their money.” “She turned you down.” You smirked at Nox. “For that dog, Firsan!” Nox stood up angrily and pressed his hands to his face. “He’s a cur, only wants her for her beauty! He doesn’t see how sweet she is.” “As I recall, just five seconds ago, you were saying the exact same thing as that.” Nox glared at you. After a moment he looked away sheepishly. “Firsan said that if I could best him in a duel, I could have her.” You crossed your arms angrily, “Have her? What of her opinion? A woman is not something you simply own.” Nox gulped, “Well no, of course not, it just,” he trailed off. “Just what?” “That’s how things are.” You threw your hands up angrily, “Only if you let it. That sort of nonsense is why I hate associating with warriors.” “No, I didn’t mean it that way.” You raised an eyebrow again. “I don’t know how I meant it. I’m jealous, I really like her.” “Have you told her?” “Yes, but she said I’m too weak. She wants a real man.” “Is that why you want to join the Einharjar then?” “Somewhat. It would prove that I’m capable, but also, I could leave Pithe. I could see and do things, think of the people we’d meet.” You thought of the princes and their warrior friends. What wonderful things had they seen and done? Although you’d be only at the palace, unless called to battle, there would still be a number of people that you could meet and know there. Finally you sighed, “I’ll think about it.” “Really?” Nox looked up hopefully. “Really. I still don’t know if I’m ready to give up this trade, but to be one of the Einharjar, that could be quite an adventure in itself.” Then you added ruefully, “and I can’t have you going off and getting yourself hurt. Nox threw his arms around you and hugged you tightly. “Oh thank you so much! Thank you.” You nodded then grumbled, “Alright, let go of me.” “Oh, I do have one favor of you though.” - The next afternoon, you found yourself standing outside the tavern with Nox. “What again am I doing for you?” “Just punch him, once, knock him out, or maybe some sense into him. He’s an ass and needs to be put in his place.” Nox replied, looking at you expectantly. “I’d much rather be reading my book, not fighting your battles for you.” You muttered, quite annoyed. Though apparently not too annoyed to refuse showing up at the tavern. “Fiiine. Then just have a drink with me. You can see Firsan in all his glory, being the scoundrel that he is.” “Very well, but you’re buying. C’mon.” - Nox led the way into the tavern, near the back corner so you would have a better view of the whole room. You sat down in the corner, back to the wall, to see without being seen. Nox waved his hand to get the attention of the barmaid, who slowly wound her way to your table, pausing once or twice to check on other customers. “Hey Ava.” Nox greeted her when she finally stopped at your table. Ava was a shorter woman, a little plump, with a brilliantly friendly smile. She had golden hair pulled back in a braid and deep chocolate eyes. All around, a quite attractive girl. You could see the appeal Nox viewed in her. “Hello there Nox.” She replied warmly, then glanced over at you, “And hello to you! You’re the apothecary right?” You inclined your head, “Yep.” “You brewed something excellent recently, helped my mother out of a tight spot, I can’t thank you enough.” You grinned at her, “My pleasure.” “So are you two here together?” She trailed off slowly. “No! No.” Nox answered hastily, suddenly looking terrified. Ava laughed lightly, “My mistake. So what can I get for you?” “Two of your finest ales, please.” “Sure thing!” Ava walked off, stopping again at a few more tables before disappearing into the back room. “She seems sweet.” You remarked lightly. “She sure is.” Nox suddenly straightened up, his whole body going stiff as the tavern door opened. A tall burly man entered. He had deep chestnut hair and fierce blue eyes. His jaw was square and clean shaven. Overall, the man was built like a mule. Flanking him, were a pair of short stocky men with dirty ginger hair and large beards. “Firsan.” Nox muttered under his breath. You frowned, “I didn’t realize he had cronies.” “They join him from time to time. Usually when he seems ready to pick a fight or partake in some wayward activity.” Firsan eyed Ava hungrily as she moved around the room. Your frown deepened. Glancing at the cronies’ belts, you noticed they were both well-armed. Their stature immediately made you think that it would be best to avoid a confrontation with them, not that you would necessarily follow that mental warning. “They look like mercenaries, almost.” You muttered. “They don’t talk much, if at all. I don’t think I’ve heard more than a grunt of so between the pair of them.” Nox looked uneasy, gaze flitting between Ava and Firsan. The leer Firsan gave her had you on edge. Ava finally made her way back to your table, a tankard in each hand. “Here you go!” She beamed. Nox pulled a few coins out and handed them to her, thanking her as he did. You noticed a faint sheen of sweat on her brow, she was clearly uneasy. Just as she turned to leave, you reached out and caught her wrist. It startled her and she almost yelped, noticeably flinching. “Sorry.” You murmured after she calmed down, registering it as you. “Do those three bother you?” You jerked your head to Firsan and the cronies. Ava followed your gaze warily. “Sorry apothecary, but they’re perfectly fine.” You studied her intently, noting the careful stitches on her dress, signs of repeated repair. You felt your stomach churn in disgust. “Why is your dress…?” You began slowly, not wanting to finish the question and risk her embarrassment. Nox glanced at you cautiously, noticing the growing rage in your voice. “I’m awfully clumsy sometimes.” Ava whispered, eyes wide. You noticed her vaguely shaking. After a moment she pulled away, this time you didn’t stop her. “Don’t worry, it’s fine.” “What’s wrong with her dress?” Nox whispered as she walked away. “It’s been torn, repeatedly, and in the same way.” You growled murderously. Your gaze trailed after her as she stopped at Firsan’s table. The unease in her posture as she talked to him could be sensed a mile away. “You’re right. He is a cur. Calling him a dog would be an insult to dogs everywhere.” You growled, still watching as Firsan tried to flirt with Ava. He took every possible opportunity to touch her arm or hand when she was within his reach. Nox swallowed hard, “If you think he’s a criminal, I’m off duty, I can’t exactly do anything.” Pulling your gaze from Ava, you raised your eyebrow at Nox, “Well if I find reason to act, guess I’ll be-” you didn’t have time to finish your sentence when a loud swat sounded across the room. You looked over just in time to see Firsan pulling his hand away from Ava’s rear. She jumped away, cringing as she hurried back to the kitchen. Firsan glared at the men on either side of him until they began to howl with laughter. After a moment, he nodded in satisfaction, a grin spreading across his face as he joined in. In a flash, you were on your feet, ignoring Nox’s protest, and running to Firsan’s side. You grasped him by the collar of his shirt and dragged him to his feet. “Don’t you ever lay a finger on her!” You snarled into his face. The whole room fell silent, watching the altercation. You were vaguely aware of the cronies gripping their weapons under the table. “What if I already did?” Firsan shot back, sneering at you. You pulled your fist back, putting the full force of your body into it and struck him in the face. Years of archery practice, drawing and releasing your bow, left your back and arm muscles wickedly strong. You pulled away just as quickly, prepared for retaliation. Already Firsan’s eye began to swell, puffing up until it closed. He screamed in fury, swinging wildly at the place you had just stood. “This has nothing to do with you, you little quim!” He roared. Firsan lunged forward, angrily throwing punches at the air. Your position amongst the tables made a kick impossible. Settling instead for another punch, you moved to the side and aimed for his kidney. The blow struck home and Firsan stumbled sideways into another table. You glanced over your shoulder as you heard Ava scream behind you. Simultaneously, Nox called your name, turning your attention back to Firsan. He was mid swing, and you were too slow to dodge completely. You moved to the side, preventing the full force from hitting your chest. His fist collided with your shoulder and there was an audible pop as it dislocated. You clenched your jaw shut to stifle your yelp. Stumbling back into the table behind you, you watched the two cronies rise to their feet. “Put her in her place.” Firsan snarled. The two men reached for their weapons as they started to advance at you. “ENOUGH!” A cold voice roared through the room. Everyone froze before looking around. A man with blonde curly hair and sky blue eyes, who had been sitting beside the fire, slowly stood up. He had a regal air about him as he approached you and the other fighters. “Who the hel are you?” Firsan snarled. Even as he spoke, a green glow shimmered over the blonde-haired man. As the last of the glow faded away, a man with shoulder length black hair and piercing emerald eyes stood before you. His green, black, and gold, leather and metal armour, instantly identified him. “I am Loki. Prince of Asgard.” The young prince responded, still glaring at the three men furiously. “Kneel and show the fealty that is expected of you before I have you executed for treason on the spot.” The whole room was instantly silenced, then slowly replaced by the sound of scraping chairs as everyone moved to kneel around him. There was a faint look of pleasure in the prince’s eyes as he took in the respect, if not fear, of the room. He glanced over at you, eyes roving to your shoulder and the pleasure was replaced by concern. Then Loki returned his attention to the three men. “You four,” Loki nodded at you and the three men in turn, “on your feet.” The four of you slowly stood back up, not certain of what the prince was thinking. “You’re coming with me.” He barked. Suddenly Firsan growled, “She was the one who started it! I was just defending myself!” You nodded, pleased that his eye was completely swollen shut. The movement, however, sent a twinge of pain through your shoulder and you instinctively gripped it. Loki raised an eyebrow, “Are you defying me?” He asked Firsan. Firsan opened his mouth to respond but Loki cut him off, “I would gut you like the pig that you are, but the mess would be bothersome to this establishment. Perhaps my seidr will put you in your place.” There was a new stillness that overtook the room, fear creeping amongst everyone. Few people understood the nature of magic – of seidr – so it was widely accepted as something to be feared. Firsan’s confidence seemed to collapse within him. “Now I gave you an order.” Loki turned and began walking towards the door, not looking over his shoulder to see if you were following. Hesitantly, you began walking first, followed by Firsan, and then his two cronies. As the four of you cleared the building, Loki finally turned around. He looked like he was about to speak when the door burst open and Ava appeared, Nox close behind. “My prince, wait!” Ava yelled. Loki eyed her coldly, “What?” “The apothecary, (Y/n), she was just defending me. Please.” Loki nodded curtly, “Leave us.” Ava hesitated, glancing at you apologetically. Finally Nox wrapped his arm around her shoulder and led her back inside. He glanced back at you, trying to apologize with only a look. “Come.” Loki barked again, slowly leading the line down to the town’s jail, and home of the town’s guards. Once inside the building, Loki stopped and spoke quietly to the head guard. You couldn’t hear what they were saying but the guard’s expression led you to believe it wasn’t good. Firsan shifted nervously beside you as his two cronies were disarmed and detained. “Vorn and Gorn Gorthsons, you are wanted for a variety of crimes against the crown.” One of the jailers declared, before listing off a series of crimes. The list was impressively long. The two men were led away and locked in cells, leaving you and Firsan waiting. Loki stood a distance away, watching in silence. “Firsan Fairhair, you are under arrest for disturbance of the peace, assault,” the jailer read off a list of several more, lesser offenses, and then motioned for Firsan to be led away. “Wait!” Firsan yelled as they pushed him towards the cells, “What about her? She fractured me rib!” You smirked at him, then your expression darkened as you thought of Ava. “Nothing compared to what you did to Ava.” “My prince! At least allow my wounds to heal over the knowledge she’s being punished.” Loki’s eyes flashed, his exact expression was hard to read, but his eyes were dark. “Don’t worry your wretched hide,” he hissed, “I’ll see to her myself.” Firsan’s face split into a grin and he nodded, “Thank you, my lord.” “Now get this lout out of my sight.” Loki snarled once more. You felt a cold trickle of fear down your back. There was no sign left of the friendly prince who had purchased you a book or happened upon you in the forest. This man was solely the dark prince whose temper and power was only spoken of in whispers, and he now turned his gaze to you. “You’ll come with me.”

[dazzledbybooks]

May Sage & Alexi Blake will be revealing art from The Cursed Crown every month leading up to the December 1st release! Today’s art comes from Haloren1st! Check it and an exciting new excerpt out now! Title: The Cursed Crown Author: May Sage & Alexi Blake Genre: Epic Fantasy Illustrator: Gabriela Dea Julia Typography by Sylvia Frost from The Book Brander Boutique Release Date: 1st of December About The Cursed Crown: My lips hitch up an inch as the hulking, slender man bends down to whisper in my ear. “A divided kingdom without a leader is weak. You will fall. You will fail. You will all die without my kindness, little girl.” He expects me to falter, shiver, and drop my gaze to the ground like the flock of gentry buzzing around him. My eyes widen in feigned dismay. “Kindness? Why did no one think to tell me you had any?” I have to allow him that one concession: Rydekar is fun to tease. He doesn’t even smile. I don’t think anyone has taunted him. “I have none. You will beg nonetheless.” I just may, in his dreams. And in my nightmares. No one was ever born less suited to ruling than Rissa, the thorn of the seelie realm—a half-fae so wild she’s spent the better part of a hundred years in the woods. For all her flaws, she’s the last of the high court bloodline, and the southern king seems to think that’s reason enough to slap a crown on her feathered head. He needs her to unify the seelie forces. She needs him to forget about that nonsense. In an effort to aid her people without condemning herself to a lifetime of misery, she sets off on a journey to find the one person with a stronger claim to the throne than hers: the cursed prince. Sealed in the mountains of the Wilderness, under many spells, the heir of the first seelie queen is the only royal strong enough to protect the fae lands from their immortal invaders. Surviving the untamed tribes and awakening a thousand-year-old prince seem a lot easier than ruling an entire kingdom where everyone hates her very nature. And her choices won’t come without consequences. Pre-Order for a Limited Time Sale Price! Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B082FS6S5V Apple: https://apple.co/2I0tPNh Nook: http://bit.ly/398w8tQ Kobo: http://bit.ly/2wLAs3E Exclusive Excerpt: The first time the high king sent hunters after me, I terrified them, drowning them in the depths of their worst nightmare. I can get rather bored in the forest, and their fear entertained me for a day or two. The second time, I was less kind. Instead of a handful of men, he sent two dozen. Half returned home, none of them whole. I am no simple beast foreign kings can summon at their leisure. I am no weakling to bow to the will of another court. I am a nightmare. Half a nightmare, if one wishes to be technical about it. No one does, however. The folk like to conveniently forget that I am part gentry. Half a nightmare. Half a child of the Court of Sunlight. Entirely wild. I didn’t expect a third assault. I should have. I may have met Rydekar Bane only once, but it’s enough to understand what kind of king ascended to the throne of Tenebris. A single rider enters my woods this time. Just one man on a pale horse. Yet I bristle. The stems growing inside my veins, sprouting out of my pores, crawl along my arm, protectively wrapping me under their thorns. I feel the feathers on my shoulders flutter. One rider on a pale horse, yet I am afraid. It isn’t in my nature to fear anything. My instincts aren’t prepared for it. Am I to flee like prey? Am I to remain to await my fate? Prepare to fight? I’m so lost I end up doing nothing at all. I’m still perched atop the sturdiest branch of the ash tree I’ve claimed as my home when he appears, standing alone. Rydekar. Somehow, I never expected that he’d come in person. Not here. The first time we met, it was in the dazzling light of the Crystal Keep, right at the core of Court of Sunlight. I was but a child, but already, I knew a predator when I saw one. I knew a fellow monster, too. A hundred years have passed, and nothing has changed at all. He wears layers of black, fashioned in a parody of a court outfit. He cannot fool me. His clothes are light and easy to move in, yet reinforced with spells and iron casts. This is a set of armor if I’ve ever seen one. His hair falls in waves, coating him in a golden halo. Of the number of weapons in his arsenal, his beauty is perhaps the most insidious. From the way he smiles at me as he saunters, there’s no doubt that he knows how to make use of it. “I see you’re tired of sending underlings for me to play with,” I say lightly, eyes closed. Rydekar chuckles. “They tell me you’re a tricky beast to hunt, precious. I thought I’d give it a try. I rather like the chase.” I don’t doubt it. “What do you want, Bane?” I will not call him king, highness, or anything of the sort. His dominion ends at the border of my woods. Rydekar is lord in the south, on unseelie territory. The Darker Woods are on seelie land, and answer to no one. No one except me. “What does any fae want?” “A beating heart for dinner? Endless, boundless entertainment? No, I know.” I glance down at him. “Better clothes. Well, I don’t share my tailor. Find your own.” His laugh is music, another trap meant to endear him to me. “Power, Rissa. I want more power.” I roll my eyes. “And you’ve come here to seek it?” I gesture around me, to the peaceful clearing. “Come down, precious.” His voice is sickly sweet, wrapping around me like a cloak. He aims to seduce me, and if I were any weaker, he might manage, too. Weaker, or stupider. “I’m quite content up here, thank you, Bane.” He sighs with a feigned sadness that makes me smile. “I would prefer not to be forced to make you obey me, Rissa, precious.” I laughs so hard I nearly fall off the branch. “Make me?” No one has ever made me do anything, not as a child, and certainly not now. Some tried. Pixie nurses, imp maids and an endless stream of tutors hired to bleed the wilderness out of me. That I now live alone in the woods shows just how proficient they were in their endeavor. “Make you,” he repeats, ever so softly. “I would prefer for us to have a partnership, if we could. But I’ll get what I’m here for either way.” “Will you, now?” I practically purr. He’s so very delightful. I haven’t had this much fun in an age. I do leap down from the tree, if only because I want him to regret asking for it. He saw me as a child in the Court of Sunlight, back when I hid the nightmare within me. There was only a hint of me showing through, back then. Now, I’m another creature. In the light of the moon, my complexion is sky blue, like that of a drowned corpse. The feathers grow right out of my shoulders, like the twisted twigs on my arms and legs. Back then, I wore long sleeves, hiding what I am as best I could. I’m dressed in a midnight spider silk so fine he might even see through it in this light. Rydekar’s violet eyes take me in, from my dirty, bare feet to my eyes, stopping on every feather, every thorn. Then he smiles, takes one step forward, and snatches my hand before I can recoil. “There you are, precious.” I’m so stunned I let go of my power, and feel the nightmare drain out of my skin. My hand is as warm as his, and has returned to the shade it dons when I’m not defending myself. It’s just like his. The twigs and flowers have retreated back inside my veins, and my feathers still. In this moment, I hate him. He’s taken my shield without any effort. “What do you want?” I repeat. This time, it sounds like a threat. Rydekar is done smiling. He’s dropped the pretense, his eyes flashing with a raw need. I am getting a glimpse of the monster beneath his mask. “You,” he tells me. “Where you belong.” I snatch my hand back. He dares? He dares! I’m about to lash out, pushing every drop of magic in my blood to maim him. He concludes his insult. “On the throne of Denarhelm.” “You’re a spineless, worthless waste of space.” He shrugs. “I’ve heard worse.” “Get out of my woods. I’ll gladly flay you alive if you stay.” And I mean every word, though killing him here would start a war. “Unlikely, but I’d enjoy your attempt.” Attempt? I could—and would—end him with little effort. I imagine freezing him in place and extracting every drop of pain and agony from his mind. “Alfheimr is raising an army, Rissa. Now that the strongest among us have left, we’re vulnerable. Hundreds of thousands of men are arming themselves, and they’ll march on your kingdom first. It’s easy pickings. I could claim it tomorrow if I so wished.” “There is no throne of Denarhelm,” I reply, gritting my teeth. The seelie kingdom has long been divided into the thirteen minor courts. The last high queen ruling over them all left the throne vacant for good reasons. While I do have her blood in my veins, even suggesting that I could claim it is preposterous—and cruel. The Court of Sunlight didn’t even want me to take my father’s place upon his passing. I hadn’t harbored any desire to rule, but the rejection had cut deep. The thirteen courts would never bow to me. I could make them, if I so wish. But I don’t. My lips hitch up an inch at the thought of forcing the thirteen courts to their knees. I’m so lost in my fantasy, I don’t see the hulking, slender man bending down to me until he whispers in my ear. “A divided kingdom without a leader is weak. You will fall. You will fail. You will all die without my kindness, little girl.” He expects me to falter, shiver, and drop my gaze to the ground, like the flock of gentry buzzing around him. My eyes widen in feigned dismay. “Kindness? Why did no one think to tell me you had any?” I have to allow him this one concession: Rydekar is fun to tease. He doesn’t even smile. I don’t think anyone has taunted him. “I have none. You will beg nonetheless.” I just may, in his dreams. And in my nightmares. “Get out of here,” I repeat. This time, to my surprise, he complies, walking back to his silver-white warhorse. “I’ve said my piece. When the time is right, send word. I’ll arrange for your coronation.” I’m confused and out of sorts. He’s leaving, after all this? I don’t understand him. What would he have to gain if I do as he wishes? Wanting a stronger enemy in the north doesn’t make sense. He looks back at me, and smiles one last time. “You were right, you know. I’ll steal your tailor.” That’s a promise and a threat. I don’t doubt he knows I make my own clothes. There’s no one else around, and nothing much else to do with my time. Without another word, the infuriating high king of the unseelie is gone. Stay up to date on teasers and teasers with The Curse Crown Facebook Group! About May Sage: May Sage is a USA Today Bestselling romance writer dabbling in different genres, although the readers who follow every series know they’re all related. When she isn’t writing, she spends her time with her German Shepherd, her two Savannahs, and her black rescue cat, in England. She loves reading, ballet, running, and cake. Mostly, cake. Follow her on Facebook or join her newsletter for the latest update. Connect with May Sage: Website | Facebook | Newsletter | Instagram Connect with Alexi Blake: Facebook | Twitter

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