#If you look at it from the right side they can dance among the green mosses

[oxideblack]

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC "Pick Me Up"

The stream goes live on the first day of the school year. It's the usual song and dance - mad laughing, threats, poor jokes, terror, and about thirty kids huddled together in a classroom behind Joker's back. Tim recognizes it as one of the Gotham Academy classrooms. Dick can't imagine the horror those kids' parents must be feeling right now. Jason jokes about middle school traumatic experiences. Damian is feeling very justified for skipping classes today.

Bruce, all suited up in his Batman garb, is making his way to the Academy as fast as he possibly can. Those are kids.

Gotham is once again anxiously kept on the edge of their seats, watching as Joker decides to interview the kids on their learning experience so far. Something about leaving a good first impression on the new generation or some other bullshit. Most kids stutter over their words - it's true that Gothamites are way more composed when facing life-threatening events, but those kids are only fourteen or fifteen for the most part. They are not old enough to keep their cool in the face of a murder clown.

That is, until Joker points his camera at one of the girls. Black hair in a high ponytail, blue eyes without a trace of fear, a slightly displeased, even bored expression on her face. She looks straight into the camera, not even waiting for the laughing madman to finish his question, and deadpans:

"I don't think I like school. Pick me up, please."

Joker sputters.

"Not so scared, I see," he sneers, and, in the next moment, a comically large gun painted in purples and greens is pointed to the girl's forehead, "How about now?"

The girl scrunches her nose and makes a so-so gesture.

"It's kinda meh," she admits, "Like, yeah, points for style, but you know, size doesn't matter. It's all in the technique."

Dick snorts over the comms. It's a bad time for laughing, sure, but the phrase caught him off-guard. This is not what you'd expect to hear from a teen, and definitely not something you'd expect anyone to say to the Joker. Jason's comms are muted, but Barbara knows he also laughed a little.

"Technique, you say?" Joker hisses, pressing the gun closer to the girl's head, and she winces, leaning away from it, almost as if she is disgusted by the touch.

"Yeah, I mean, guns are not that scary anyway. What are you gonna do with them, blast my brains all over the floor? Been there, done that," the girl shrugs, "Kinda nasty, but overall, it's just like slime, only sticky." She pauses and looks to the side, seemingly lost in thought, "Huh, maybe we should have added Borax to it. Or was it baking soda?.."

"Listen here, you little brat," Joker's fingers catch the girl's chin, and his voice becomes sickeningly menacing. Bruce is almost there, just two more minutes. Tim is already grappling onto the wall.

But none of them get to finish.

"Put your dirty fingers away from my sister," a low, cold, and even in a way that speaks of barely contained fury, voice comes from out of the screen.

The camera spins, like whoever is holding it turned really fast, and everyone watching the stream sees a fairly normal guy standing by the window - a turtleneck and ripped jeans, same black hair as the girl, same blue eyes... Wait, they are not blue.

And that's not a guy.

The camera falls down to the floor, and there are a lot of panicked screams coming from the broadcast now, but none of them sound like children's voices. It's the screams of adults, of grown-ass men, and later, someone even claimed they heard Joker's scream among them, too. The picture on camera glitches a few times, and the angle is awkward, but everyone still gets to see how shadows in the room morph into eyes, wide open and green, and how the darkness grows sharp teeth, countless grinning mouths that don't belong to any faces.

Screams turn into gargling and then to quiet whispers, filling the ears of all those listening with countless words in languages they don't know.

Red Robin turns off the recording and looks to that same guy from the levestream, sitting across him on the couch. The guy - Daniel, or Danny, as he introduced himself - looks him in the eyes and raises an eyebrow.

"Okay, and?"

"How did you do it?" Tim asks for the third time this evening. Danny blinks.

"Did what?" He asks, completely incomprehending. Tim groans. He's been trying to get his answers, any answers at this point, from the guy for thirty fucking minutes already. So far, he's got nothing. Danny, whoever the fuck he is, proves to be the most annoying human being on Earth.

"Seven people in a coma, including Joker himself, with no physical injuries and none of the children remember a thing! How?!" He demands, and a girl's face peeks from around the corner:

"I remember!"

Tim snaps his head at her, "What do you remember?"

The girl pauses, blinks, and looks to Danny. Then shrugs, "My brother picked me up from school."

Tim drops his head down and breathes out in frustration. He can't force the information out of civilians, he is a vigilante, not a mafia.

"Would it make you feel better if I promise not to do it again?" Danny asks, and his voice is way too innocent for Tim to believe him. He raises his head to look the guy in his shameless, amused eyes.

"I hate you."

"Thanks," Danny grins.

[ahqkas]

hey goergous!! I've been BINGING your writing on the batboys and I absolutely love them!! Is there a chance you can do Costco runs with the batboys? Weird idea but I was just at Costco and was thinking about it hahaha!! Thank you!!! ❤️🦇

♯HEAVEN IS A PLACE ON EARTH WITH YOU ( the batboys accompanying you to costco ! )

— gn!reader, bruce & dick & jason ( separated ), i had to google what costco is so i hope i got it right !! fluff, this is so short i’m sorry 😣

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

. . . BRUCE WAYNE !

THE MERE IDEA OF BRUCE WAYNE IN SUCH A SHOP WAS AS SURREAL AS ENDEARING. it happened during a simple saturday morning, still when many people were busy sleeping in, when you got to the task at your hand: grocery shopping.

you glanced over at your company, noting how his well tailored black sweater and dark jeans contrasted with the whole place and its contents. his classy clothing looked so out of place among the sea of puffy jackets, hoodies, and sneakers. yet, as always, he didn’t seem to mind. he almost looked comfortable ( if you could call the expression on his face by that word ) by your side, but you had your suspicions it was only because he was with you.

he pushed the cart with one hand, his other resting warmly on your lower back as he guided you through the place like he knew exactly where to go. you’d begged him to come with you—not because you couldn’t do it alone, but because you were curious about him in such a place. the idea of bruce wayne, a billionaire who owned sprawling estates and could have groceries delivered with a snap of his finger, was far too good to pass on.

bruce picked up a bulk-sized box of protein granola bars and studied it like he was deciphering a riddle from the riddler himself. “do we eat these?”

you tilted your head towards him, eyes flickering between his handsome face and the bars in his hands. he managed to look good even under those fluorescent lights. “i eat them. you inhale them after your patrols.

a flicker of smirk danced on his lips while his free arm tightened around your waist, tossing the box into the cart with a nod of his head. “point taken, sweetheart.”

. . . DICK GRAYSON !

the idea to shop at costco was his.

it was funny to watch him move through the shop, one hand pushing the cart while he held your hand with the other. ( “costco? are you kidding? i love costco,” he’d said with excitement filling his voice, practically dragging you out the door before you could protest. ) . now, you were strolling through various aisles with your boyfriend. dick was dressed in his usual hoodie and jeans, although you knew he was hiding his suit under the casual clothes. his blue eyes sparkled whenever he discovered something that was ‘essential’ for your home.

“do we really need a 10 pound tub of peanut butter?”

“we do now.”

it was nice seeing him like this, doing normal things like shopping for once. he scanned the rows of fresh fruit like a normal guy instead of the acrobatic vigilante who swung through blüdhaven’s skyline every night. dick picked up a bag of green apples and tossed it into the cart. they’d bruise, no doubt. “do you approve of these?”

“i approve of anything that gets you to eat actual food instead of protein bars and instant noodles,” you pinched his biceps, feeling the muscle flex under your touch.

he swatted your hand away. “hey, i make a mean bowl of mac and cheese.”

“you mean you open a mean box of mac and cheese.”

dick shrugged with an ashamed smile on his face, hand reaching out and picking up a tub of pre-cut pineapple. “there. that’s balance right here. carbs and fruit. meal prep done.”

. . . JASON TODD !

THE TRUNK OF YOUR CAR GROANED UNDER THE WEIGHT OF WHAT FELT LIKE AN ENTIRE GROCERY STORE as jason hefted yet another bag onto his shoulder, the plastic handles straining under the bulk of sparkling water. his leather jacket creaked with the movement, and a few stray strands of his dark hair fell across his forehead as he turned to you with a playful look on his face.

“explain to me again,” he drawled out lowly, “why two people need this much stuff?”

you shrugged your shoulders and leaned casually against the car while sipping your iced coffee, looking far too pleased with yourself ( which you kinda were ). “because it’s costco, jay. you don’t go in for just a few things. you go in, black out, and come out with a year’s supply of paper towels and enough food to survive the apocalypse.”

your boyfriend huffed a laugh at that, shaking his head as he grabbed another bag, this one balanced with a carton of eggs and a bag of frozen chicken nuggets. “pretty sure you’re prepping for more than just the apocalypse. you’ve got enough granola bars in here to feed an entire boy scout troop.”

“don’t act like you’re not going to eat half of those on your next patrol.”

jason ate like he was the entire boy scout troop.

“fair point,” he admitted and you watched as his lips twitched into a smirk. jason had this way of making even the most normal activities feel like they were charged with a kind of electricity. the way he moved, the way he joked — it all carried that signature side of him.

[wyvernest]

oh??my??god??? “midnight cravings” was so good! i’m foaming at the mouth 😩

would you be able to write something about how the reader has never been able to have an orgasm with another person and miguel hears this and changes that 🫣

go easy on me

part 2

pairing: miguel o'hara x afab!reader

warnings: smut, fluff, established relationship, vaginal fingering, sexual tension

The movie you put on is nearing its end. The lights dance over the walls of the dimly lit bedroom, flashing across your tired eyes. You hadn't even registered Miguel turning the volume down halfway.

It's not the first time he's come to visit. Ever since you two have started dating, he has made increasingly more time among his duties and responsibilities to swing by your place, whether to eat dinner, to watch a movie, or just sit and talk about everything and anything.

At some point along the movie, you had cuddled up against his side, head propped on his shoulder, internally surprised at how comfortable it was despite the rigid muscles that adorned his body. The only problems were the butterflies fluttering wildly in your stomach, the way your heart flipped every time he even did as little as readjust his weight on the bed or sigh, in fearful yet giddy hopes that he'd maybe, just maybe, initiate something you're otherwise not bold enough to start.

Suddenly, the movie gets to a low-lit scene, and you make out Miguel's features in the screen's reflection. The contour of his face, the width of his shoulders on the headboard in comparison to your frame, gathered up by his side. And the moment you make out his eyes, it's too late.

He's staring right back at you, but you were too distracted to notice.

Dark, red-shaded eyes, outlined by thick eyebrows, daggers deepening the look on his face.

Maybe he's just lost in thought? Zoned out?

All those suppositions fly out the window faster than your breath when the corners of his mouth curl into a smirk, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. You feel unprepared for whatever he's making out to be the rest of the night in his head.

Nobody's watching whatever's left of the movie anymore.

The hand holding you by his side tightens around your shoulders, and just for a flash of a second you guess that it was all in your head. He wasn't plotting anything, he's just the sweet and caring Miguel you've known for so long, smiling kindly at you and making sure you're comfortable and close to him. All until his other hand travels to your thigh, his whole body shifting so that he sits on his side, all his attention focused on you alone.

Tilting your head up, you meet his gaze. You find it hard to pinpoint the feelings plastered on his face. Affection? Lust? Hesitancy? He's wordlessly asking you for permission to proceed.

His palm moves up, grip stronger and firmer. Your hands naturally find his chest, and you don't quite remember when you've hiked up a leg over his, letting his hand reach the mound of your soft ass, squeezing and groping.

You don't get much time to bask in the pure happiness and excitement of being inches away from his face, eye to eye, breath to breath, before he closes the distance and presses his lips to yours. The kiss is gentle and tender, he tastes you like you're a goddess and he's only ever allowed to kiss you once in a whole lifetime. He cradles your body close to his, allowing himself to indulge in the delicate feeling of your soft skin, parting from your lips and kissing your face wherever he can reach, so lovingly, so carefully, having you melt against him.

You mindlessly let a moan echo in your throat, at which he retracts, as if being presented an undoubtedly green light. He pulls you impossibly close, both hands clutching at the small of your waist. His mouth drops to your neck, growing impatient and needy. He bites down, fangs stinging into your skin before he licks and pecks at the red marks, soothingly. Your breathing fails to keep up with his ministrations, your heart threatening to burst right out of your chest.

You choke on a whimper when you feel the extensive shape of his vigorous thigh push upwards between your parted legs, applying dangerous pressure right on your still clothed clit.

"Miguel." you call breathlessly, the name placed upon a questioning tone.

He stops.

"Mi vida."

"I need to tell you something."

He looks up at you from your chest, almost reverentially. There's a reassurance in his pleading, immensely compassionate eyes that can't possibly be put into words. So you confess. You tell him about your lack of experience, how nobody's brought you to the very heights of ecstasy before. He ponders the information, calculating. His attention darts momentarily between his surroundings, you and your flushed lips.

"You want me to be the first?", he's almost afraid you'll deny him. Not that he wouldn't back off the moment he sensed any sign of discom from you, but he can't deny that he had dreamed of giving you pleasure you haven't felt in your entire life. To have you twist and turn in his arms, writhe and whimper from the intensity of both your feelings and the things he could do to you.

You smile sweetly, certain of the answer.

"I want you to be the last, too."

That's all it takes. In a mere second, he's all over you, clawing and kissing every patch of skin he manages to expose. He travels down to the sides of your waist, sinking his fangs into the tender flesh without puncturing the skin, sending jolts of adrenaline and need pulsing through you. You squirm into his arms, feeling downright devoured. Spread wide open, at his disposal, liquid ready to mould into whatever vessel he offers with his embrace.

He drags your panties down your legs in one swift motion, crawling over your frame and dwarfing you in his shadow. You feel his strong, expert hand make its way down between your legs, parting your lips and rubbing in soft, circular motions.

"You're soaked" he mumbles into your ear, his breaths hot and heavy on your neck. You manage to sob briefly, too overwhelmed to speak.

He pushes a finger into your cunt, swelling with pride when feeling how wet you had gotten for him. You moan at the stretch, as the heat of the heel of his palm digs into your core. You whimper, and he kisses you, swallowing his whispered name.

You liquefy into his embrace, allowing him to add a second finger. He's testing the perimeter, playing and experimenting with angles, watching your reactions intently. He suddenly hits a rough spot that had you bucking your hips, and he flashes you a smug smile, fangs on display. He repeats the motion, rolling his hand into your pelvis, and you can't do anything but grab onto his muscled arm and quicken your already laboured breaths. He starts giving attention to your clit in tandem, rubbing the heel of his palm into the sensitive bud.

You watch the mesmerising way his arm flexes with every movement, every thrust of his thick fingers into your drenched cunt.

Soon enough you feel the unmistakable coil start to form into your lower abdomen, legs tense and face contorted from the pleasure.

"That's it. Dios mío, you're so beautiful when you're about to come.", his voice is low and breathless, echoing into your lust-addled brain and then straight down to your cunt. You reach your peak, gushing on his hand, pulsing around his fingers.

He holds you to his chest while you ride out your high, watching the way your lips struggle to form coherent words that aren't his name.

As your breathing returns to normal, he places a chaste kiss on your forehead, and you mentally swear you could die right then and there.

It's all so intimate, gentle, and romantic until–

"Can't wait to feel you pulse like that around my cock."

a/n: hope this is what you wanted<3

[snowthornes]

FANFICTION | @uroboros-if

When the light disappears

You are not used to seeing them like this. Lights and shadows dance over them in the flickering firelight, warmth and darkness staining their serene form. It is odd, how it seems to lend them the breath of life: an oil painting come to life, a distant dream come to being. You’ve become accustomed to seeing them within the eternal daylight of Lucidio: so gentle, so kind, and yet so far away. Now, Luciel sits by the fire as shadows play over the planes of their face, falling into the depths of eyes that gleam like water in a pool. Like this, it is as if they are within reach; like this, it is as if they are mortal.

Their eyes are fixated on the flames. Quiet, gentle, like the veil of night that adorns mortal skies. You wonder what memories they see in them. You wonder if you will ever know.

And when this world’s insincere

They smile. Sharp and wanton, rich and beguiling, dark eyes gleaming with a mischief that can only mean nothing good. In this glittering ball of mortal aristocrats, they flit from noble to noble with unfettered ease, donning the mannerisms of a human with perfect fluidity. Like this, Ciocana seems to be in their element; their every word a dance of gold and honey, effortlessly working the hearts of mortal desires.

So beautiful. So impossible to ignore. When you see them like this, you can almost forget the way their existence feels like tainted rot to your divinity, the way your every instinct howls at you to stay away. Deity of Misfortune, the phantom shadow that lingers among the divine; their title is a shroud that follows them wherever they go. And yet– and yet–

You cannot help but wonder at the moments when something sharp and dark and cynical shines through their laughing eyes.

When nobody hears you scream

The wind dances through your hair, blowing it away from your face and bringing the scent of ocean spray to your nose. You laugh as you dangle from the net that spans the length of the ship's mast, holding one hand out to Luciel, who looks at you with wide eyes.

"Well?" You grin encouragingly, though there's no hiding the teasing light in your eyes. "Are you coming?"

They look at you. Although hesitation glistens in their green eyes, there's also curiosity — and a sparkling excitement.

"...Are you sure?"

"Very," you say. "I'll be right behind you all the way. Promise."

There's a pause.

And then they take your hand, and hoist themself up to the net. The net sways for a moment at your combined weight, but then holds firm. You pull them to your side, then nod, gesturing for them to climb up. "I'll follow you!"

They nod, determination set on their face. They climb up, and true to your word, you follow behind them, watching them carefully. The wind gets stronger as the higher up you get, tugging at your clothes and whistling through your ears. Your eyes are set on your destination: the crow's nest at the very top of the ship's mast, high above the rest of the world.

Luciel is the first to reach the nest. When you climb from the top of the net and into the nest, they're already looking out at the view unfurling before them, eyes glowing with wonder. Below you, the ship's crew bustle past each other, reminiscent of the toy dolls the children of Lucidio often play with. Around you, miles and miles of endless ocean stretch on until they meet the line of the boundless sky, encapsulating you in a world so vast and yet so free.

"Well?" You have to shout to be heard over the wind. "What do you think?"

They say something, but the wind drowns out their voice. You grin impishly, tapping your ear. "What? I can't hear you!"

They look at you, a flash of hesitation crossing their face, and then–

"It's beautiful!" And you think this is the first time you have heard them raise their voice. Wind streams through their long, flowing hair, making it dance like flames in the breeze. And their eyes, they glow: flashing with excitement, like sunlight in a pool. Like this, they seem so free; like this, they seem so near.

You grin, and don't hesitate to respond.

"Like you!"

And when a flush stains their ears, when a smile bursts into their eyes, you laugh, your heart soaring — and you can't help but marvel at how beautiful they are.

I’ll scream with you

They run behind you with an uncharacteristic gracelessness, their feet slipping and sliding on the rain-slick ground. You grin and tug them along, paying no heed to their laughing inquiries of confusion. You merely laugh, and it is wild, carefree, singing with the thunder that rumbles from the skies.

Dark clouds gather in the heavens, obscuring the light of the moon and the stars. Rain pours down in a merciless torrent; lightning splits the skies every so often, bathing the world in a blinding white. The sound of the rain thudding against the earth is a melody, one that shakes and thumps and rushes and rattles. 

You spin around on your heel and face them, your hand still in theirs, taking in their appearance: drenched from head to toe, their elaborate clothes lopsided, their hair clinging to their face. And yet their eyes are bright with laughter, face alight with a smile that matches yours, and when they look at you, it is with nothing short of breathtaking exhilaration. 

You hold out your other hand, yelling to be heard over the storm, grinning uncontrollably. “Would you do me the honor of giving me this dance?”

They stare at you for a moment and then they break out into laughter, piercing through the cacophony that rumbles around you. “Why, is this to get back at me for that dance?”

“At least I had the decency to ask!” You shoot back, and amidst the sounds of your laughter you’re sweeping them into the most ridiculous dance you can manage, all flying limbs and spinning flourishes, the world blurring all around you. 

The skies weep above you, and all you can see is their smile: bright, unguarded, the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

You’ll be safe here

SONG: You'll Be Safe Here, by Rivermaya.

— May you all be safe and sound in the embrace of eternity's dream.

[shivunin]

and if it's okay to request two 👉👈 or if you want to pick whichever one suits you more atm!

16. Letter from Rook to their love interest

Yesss thank you, Mer! I will do the other one next, but this was too delightful to not open with c: Here's a post-game letter:

From the Grand Necropolis

(Lucanis/Rook Ingellvar | 603 Words | Minor spoilers)

A letter written in green ink on creamy white paper. Its seal, the symbol of the Mourn Watch beetle, is as yet unbroken. 

Lucanis, 

It feels strange to be writing you an actual letter. I’m used to knowing you’re within walking distance, that I can just stand up and find you when I need to. How strange it is to know that I will have to try to be patient and wait for a response in the usual way. 

I’ve taken up residence in my old quarters. It is soothing to not have illusory fish swimming around my room, and I’ve missed the company of my old wisp friends. I played for them at length this evening and it brought me joy to watch them dance. We are the reason they are still here, that this room and its bed and books are still here. The books, by the way, are in a very disheveled state. I can’t recall if I left them like this or if the wisps have been playing while I’ve been away. 

I hope all is as well as it can be in Treviso. I’m sure there is plenty to restore there, and plenty more to plan to fix in the future. They will need you for it. There is nobody more dedicated  determined  You are one of the most capable people I have ever known, and there is nobody better suited to setting things right. I know you will look out for the people beyond the Crows, and they are all very lucky to have you. 

It has just occurred to me that this is the sort of thing I should probably write in a cipher. I hope this isn’t some sort of liability for you. The only ones I know are based on tomb script and it would take you ages to learn. I will put more thought into it. Unless I am overthinking this. Scratch all of that

I went to the market in Nevarra City today. I don’t think I ever had a chance to show you when we visited. I shouldn’t have gone today either, as it seems the van Markhams are still holding a grudge. I suspect they have not connected Rook to the loathed Ingellvar or they would have sent more assassins. I’d been hopeful that having helped dispatch two (three?) gods would prevent that sort of thing, but, well. Here we are. It is fortunate that I've spent so much time fighting lately. I am used to a higher caliber of assassin now. 

It has just occurred to me that  Lucanis, I do not need any help dealing with the van Markhams. Please leave them to me. I am perfectly capable of handling this and Nevarra is especially disinclined to Crow intervention after all the attempts on the king’s life. They are my burden to bear.

I wish I could just talk to you about this. So much is lost in a letter. 

My candle grows low. I could make my own light, but I ought to go to sleep. There will be things to sort out in the morning, my books foremost among them. 

I miss you. 

I love you. 

Yours always, 

Lenore

P.S. I miss you. I do. I keep turning to tell you something and you aren't there. Somehow, it's so much harder that you're only a mirror away.  

The letter is tucked inside the inner pocket of a deep green cloak. The cloak itself is discarded on the floor in a pile, side by side with a second pile of black and violet leathers.

[osleeplessflowero]

✨~📖Fairytale Series📖~✨

Previous Part 💙 First Part ❤️ the show must go on. ;) so here's another oneshot! oh, do i love enemies to lovers.. it's mostly nightmare focused but there'll be more oneshots with this plotline so the others will get more time to shine later!

Stars twinkle overhead in the night sky. The church's bells ring in unison as you walk down a long hallway, adjusting your crown so it doesn't slip with an irritated look.

Today was..a stressful one, to say the least.

As a ruler, you take pride in hosting various beautiful parties for the people of your kingdom. Nobility, working class, peasants..anyone may attend, which has led to quite a lot of gossip..gossip that sometimes caught the attention of the wrong crowds.

This morning, you'd received word that a ruler from a neighboring kingdom would be attending your event today..one you had planned to avoid all contact with, having known the terrible rumors about him..and having met him before. A monster who overtook his kingdom by force..cruel to his subjects. Corrupt. You'd rather not associate with someone like that..but it seems you have no choice.

Walking into the ballroom, you put on your best performed smile, walking over to a throne that had been placed down and thanking your staff for moving it for you, sitting down on a high balcony so you can oversee everyone below.

"May the festivities commence!" You call out, hearing cheers from those below and letting out a contented sigh. At least you can embrace their enjoyment until a certain someone arrives..

The band plays their best songs with smiles, the various groups of humans and monsters alike dancing together on the ballroom floor..a bright, brilliant chandelier shines above them all.

This is all you've ever truly wanted..peace among your kingdom. People being able to get along and coexist without fail..your parents had never seen your vision when they were still here, but now? Well..you've proven them wrong. Peace is the right answer..true bliss.

..That is interrupted when the entrance doors slam open. The crowd gasps. You stand, putting your hands on the railing in front of you.

"What is the meaning of this?" You ask, eyes darting around.

Gasps move around the room like wildfire. Everyone turns to the entrance, wondering who could be causing such a ruckus.

Two skeletons enter the ballroom, standing side by side. One with a large grin on his face, the other's shrouded in the shadow of his hood.

"ladies and gentlefolk! wow, is this a beautiful party! really outdid yourself up there, your majesty!"

"and now..we are proud to announce.." The hooded one strains a word there as the two of them hold their arms to the door.

"the arrival of his majesty!" They say together.

An uncomfortable aura fills the room..a chill goes down your spine as a faint green light is seen visible burning in the darkness of the entranceway.

A king steps out, a calm but sly grin on his face. His body is stained with some sort of substance..his attire a dark shade of green to match his single bright eyelight. He leans a cane on the floor, standing between the two as another guard stands behind him..almost as if he doesn't want to be associated.

"king nightmare!"

You feel your grip on the railing tighten. First he has the audacity to show up uninvited and now he feels the need to interrupt the party with an introduction? How self centered can you be?

His grin stretches a bit as he looks up at you. He's revelling in your anger. He can definitely feel it..

"Oh my, isn't that.. the rumored 'King of Negativity'? What's he doing here?" The party members gossip. "I heard he took over his kingdom by banishing his brother somewhere so he would have complete control..how cruel." "I hear he feeds off of the negativity of others..like a leech."

"Your majesty.." He looks up at you, holding out a hand. "Lovely party you're having. I must send my compliments to your decorators..even if it is much too bright for my tastes."

"King Nightmare..what a pleasure. Seems you decided to attend after all." Your smile is strained as you make your way over to the staircase on your left to go down and greet him.

"How could I miss something like this? A party held in one of the most notoriously peaceful kingdoms around..I simply had to see it for myself."

You clear your throat. "Everyone, please continue indulging in the festivities!"

People murmur amongst themselves before the band catches the hint, playing their music again and allowing them to dance and mingle once more.

"Why are you here?" You ask, blunt now that everyone's eyes have been turned away. "There has to be a reason. I heavily doubt you came here for a bit of fun. That's not your thing."

"Such an observant little ruler.." "Do not patronize me."

He snaps his fingers, getting the attention of the others. "Boys, go do something. I'm dismissing you for the evening."

"hell yeah! c'mon dusty, let's go get some drinks." The more energetic skeleton drags the tired one away, the much taller and..honestly more threatening skeleton in the back moving to lean on one of the walls to keep watch.

"What are you planning? You're nowhere near the type to indulge in festivities." "Am I not allowed to visit a potential business partner?" "I have no interest in doing business with You." You glare at him, earning a chuckle as he makes his cane disappear. He holds out his hand to you, making you raise a brow in confusion.

People begin to notice, glancing over curiously and beginning to gossip.

"This is a party..won't you do me the honor of a dance, Your Majesty?"

"With..little respect due, your grace, I would rather my soul shatter in front of all these people." "That could be arranged." His eyelight glows menacingly, but you refuse to back down.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" You scoff, turning away before he grabs your hand, pulling you over to him. You feel your heart skip a beat as you look up into his eye, shocked.

"You know nothing of what I want, my dear. But for now, we may as well put our true wants aside and enjoy the evening. Isn't that what you'd prefer?"

You look around, everyone's eyes on the two of you. Damn it.

You strain a new smile. "Fine. You want a dance? Let's dance."

His signature smirk you'd love to punch off of his face in front of the hundreds attending slides its way back onto his face as the song changes. The two of you move in sync, despite the occasional intentional slips you pull that he unfortunately knows just how to correct. Every move, he knows how to match it. How the hell does he do that? It's annoying..

You go to say something when he spins you out away from himself quickly, grabbing something midair before pulling you back against him. You raise a brow in confusion before he shows you the dagger he'd just caught.

"Seems even in a peaceful land there's someone who'd want you dead. How ironic." "..I'm not going to thank you for that." "Thanks isn't something I'm looking for."

Killer leans on one of the tables, raising his browbones at some ladies that pass by who giggle in reply, earning a smack on the head from Dust.

"focus, we've gotta make sure nightmare isn't harmed here."

"oh, c'mon, dusty! he can handle himself just fine- pluuus we're dismissed, don't you wanna have a little fun? maybe meet someone new?"

"i don't have time to waste on things like that. i'm sure horror feels the same way, right horror?"

"don't talk to me."

Killer turns to the two of you. "you know..their majesty's pretty mysterious..they've caught my interest."

"you have no chance of catching the eye of a ruler, killer."

"i bet i could! i'd just have to have an opportunity..whenever nightmare gets tired of..looking at them like that."

"hmm." There's a pause. "..i guess they do seem pretty interesting.."

"see!" Killer replies, earning a shrug from Dust.

Soon enough other dancers on the floor move around you both in circles, leaving you in the center where everyone can watch your glares at one another.

"I truly do loathe you, your majesty." "What a wonderful thing to say, your grace." He grins at you as the music begins to fade out, before spinning you and dipping you as everyone gasps.

"You have such a way with words."

You shiver at his whisper, feeling heat rise to your face as the glare in your eyes intensifies. If people weren't watching, you'd smack him right here.

He raises you back up, looking from your eyes to your lips briefly before letting you go. "Wonderful dancing skills, your majesty. I'm sure you had a lovely teacher. Maybe work on those slips, though."

"You little.."

He waves you off as he walks away. You walk gracefully into another room, before immediately running over to one of the sofas and screaming into a pillow. Oooh, you're gonna counter him one day if it's the last thing you do!

"so, boss, how'd it go?"

"I'll be coming back here very soon. I'm assuming you'll be joining me?"

"of course! wouldn't miss it for the world." Killer lets out a chuckle.

[garricks4thwingqueen]

Happy New Year With You Dain Aetos X Riorson Reader

Synopsis: An evening out on new years eve. Riorson Reader X Dain Aetos.

Trigger Warnings: None 

Word Count: 1309

 How does one spend a New Years Eve party when they are a second-year rider in the quadrant? An evening in Chantra of course. 

  Y/N POV

    “Oh my god Y/N!!” Imogen squealed as you stepped into her room so your best friend could help you finish your hand makeup for this evening. “What?” You asked as you didn’t think much of your dress and canvas flats. You were never one to get dressed up, well for anything. “What do you mean what!! You look amazing, that black dress hugs you in every right place. Maybe this will be the evening that you and Dain finally seal the deal she said, putting her hands on your shoulders and pushing you down in her desk chair. 

   “Imogen, I have no idea what on earth you're talking about. Plus, when does Dain ever go to Chantra?” “Oh, come on, you two have been sparring between feelings since we started last year. And its New Year's Eve, everyone goes into town.” You sighed as she started to French braid your hair. “Even so, Dain and I could never happen. I'm a Riorson and he's an Aetos.” “It’s clear you two have chemistry and plus everyone knows Luna and Cath are mates.” “Everyone? Imogen Cardullo, who on earth did you tell?” She did have to tell anyone. Cath and I have been mated for decades the whole empyrean knows. Luna said into your mind. 

   She’s right. You heard Dain say into your mind. Right about which part Aetos? I’ll see you at midnight Riorson and we can find out. You rolled your eyes and slammed your shields up not wanting to deal with the entourage of voices in your mind that came with bonded to a mated dragon. You elbowed Imogen as you heard her chuckle behind you. “That mind thing is so weird.” “You have no idea.” You said to her chuckling. 

  “There absolutely beautiful my best friend.” Imogen said as she finished the final touches of your makeup. “Thanks Immi. I guess it isn’t awful getting the whole nine yards done every now and again.” You smirked as she put the finishing touches of green hair dye on the tip of your braid. You always dyed your hair a little bit of green, but now it was perfect because Luna was also a green scorpion tail.  

    A few hours later you and Imogen meet up with your brother Xaden, Bodhi, Garrick, Liam and a few other first years as well as Heaton, Emery and Quinn to head into town. You heard a low whistle come from your brother; “Cardullo what the hell did you do to my sister and where the fuck did, she go?” Xaden said with a smirk on his face. “I can say I completely agree.” Heaton said, wrapping his arm around you. “Heaton back off. She has her mind on someone else.” Imogen said coming up on the same side and knocking his arm off of yours. “Ouch Cardullo!” He said in mock pain as you chuckled at your friends' antics. 

    “And who does my little sister have her eyes on?” Xaden asked, coming up to your other side. “Absolutely no one.” You said with a smirk. “No one? I thought it was me?!” You could hear Ridoc pipe up from behind you. “In your dreams Gamlyn!” Both you and Imogen said at the same time which ended up in a boisterous laughter among the group. 

    An hour later you had several alcoholic Lavender Lemonade drinks into your system. You currently had your arms flung around Garricks neck as you both were dancing to the medieval bar music that was pumping through the tavern. Garrick was never an option for you being Xaden’s best friend and always your brother’s second in command; but that never stopped you two from messing around occasionally. “You should go for it.” “Sorry?” Garrick mumbled. “I mean you and Imogen. It’s New Year's Eve, kiss her.” “What?” Garrick stuttered. “Oh come on Tavis it’s obvious there’s something between you two.” 

   Garrick was saved from an answer as you felt a tap on your shoulder from behind you. You turned around to face Dain Aetos. “Care to dance. Miss Riosron?” Dain asked, holding his hand out. You glanced back at Garrick who gave you a court nod and made his way to the bar.  “Thought you’d never ask Aetos?” You smirked as you wrapped your arms around Dain’s waist as the music changed to a slower song. 

    “I was just waiting for the right moment.” He said tucking your braid behind your ear. “And that would be?” You asked, staring up into his brown eyes. “A slow song close too when the clock is going to strike midnight.” “And why would that be ideal Aetos?” He chuckled softly and gods that was a sound you grew two love over the past almost two years. He smirked before saying “So perhaps that I get to kiss the prettiest girl in the quadrant.”  You blushed.

    You were about to protest and say how you and Dain could never work as you were a Riorson and he was an Aetos; a marked one and a none marked one. However, you were interrupted by the countdown that was filling the bar; you let Dain pull you into his side as you joined into the countdown to the new year; “5, 4, 3, 2, 1!” You felt Dain wrap his strong arms around your waist as he turned you too face him. “Dain.” You breathed looking up into his brown eyes once more as you reached up to run your fingers through his brown hair. Kiss him. You heard Luna playfully chime into your head. You felt dain cup your cheek and let him close the distance that was between the two of you. 

    You ignored the whistles from your brother and group of friends as you melted into Dain’s touch. Dain’s touch which was the best feeling you had felt in the entire world. You could feel his turn seek for entrance into your mouth which you opened up and let him continue to melt into his touch. Truly taking in his scent for the first time which was something that you could find yourself getting lost into forever. He smelled like home, like vanilla and a hint of musk with just a subtle hint of bourbon. “Dain.” You breathed after you both broke through for air. “Y/N” He breathed. “Would you care to start the new year off as officially being my girlfriend?” 

   You couldn’t help but blush as you wrapped your arms tighter around Dain and you couldn’t help but glance down at your rebellion mark on your arm. “I know.” He whispered softly to you. “People are going to talk.” You started to protest. “I know.” He said again. “Ask me if I care Y/N.” “Do you care?” “No.” “You should, what about your father?” “I don’t care, and he can think whatever he wants. Sure, he probably isn’t going to approve of us-” This time you cut him off by reaching up and placing your lips on yours as you both melted into each other's lips again. “Yes.” You breathed softly. “Yes?” He repeated again. “Yes, I’ll be yours.” You said again this time more confidently as you knew for fact you wanted Dain more than you wanted everything in your entire life. You and your brother were rarely ones that got what you wanted, and you weren’t going to let this slip away from you. “Happy new year babe.” Dain said to you softly. “Happy new year baby.” You whispered back, carding your fingers through his brown hair again, completely forgetting that both of you were in the middle of a packed tavern, not wanting this moment to end. 

[itsgrimeytime]

Magnolia in May (Part Five) || Rick Grimes (TWD) x Greene!f!reader Regency AU

Part 1, 2, 3, 4...

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Inspiration (in honor of Speak Now Taylor's Version): Enchanted by Taylor Swift.

Summary: Your town was small, not the smallest you knew, but anyone of high fortune was the gossip of the week. Predictably, Richard Grimes was a thing of whispers -rumors of a search for marriage among the grassy hills. You weren't one to buy into town gossip, but something about him... just seemed a little too intriguing.

TWS: kinda anti-Lori, angsty as hell (sorry), misunderstandings, and crying.

[[A/N: Thanks @imaginemyfavoritefics for some concepts implemented in here !!! And this gif is just so pretty, like. Catch me wishing I was at a ball so he could ask for my hand. I'm simple, give me a pretty view of his blue eyes, and I'm happy. Googled it and regency era had gossip-focused newspapers!!! Drama. Thanks for reading.]]

It had been a dreadful past few days -you assumed to make up for the wonder that was the ball. You had ended up dancing -a brief one but still a dance. Sometimes if you closed your eyes you were right there -his hand delicately placed and yours mirrored. It was filled with the perfect poise, and better yet: laughter.

Some of your favorite dance pairings were full of laughter, but the banter you'd had with Mr. Grimes was much different.

You'd doubted you'd ever smiled so much in your life. Bright and big and shiny, you'd danced the last set of the night with him, and all the while desperately wished it could last longer. It was rather unheard of in your book to prefer more dances with men.

But, Mr. Grimes was quite special.

"Hey," Maggie waved her hand in front of you, "-stop drooling, we have to get the post, remember?"

"No, I-" you cleared your throat pointedly, "-have to get the post. You have to be Headmistress's companion for the hour."

She rolled her eyes, pointing out, "Right, and whose the one who has to pick up the rest of the groceries because you got distracted by a man?"

You shoved gently into her side, shaking your head and stepping out into the foyer. Your eyes landed on Beth -looking quite preoccupied with some paper in her lap and loose hand twisting her blonde curl.

"Hello, darling sister," you chimed, smiling brightly and trying to peek at the title -she didn't often share much, you have to learn it on your own, really, "-what is it your reading today?"

And usually, in normal circumstances, she would tell you and your morning would be started rather warm. Beth was always so grand to listen to, anything she spoke of came with the same cadence.

But, apparently, it was not a usual day.

"Are you to be married to Mr. Grimes?"

You froze in your spot, still as stone, peering down at your sister. She was looking at you with rather open blue eyes -vulnerable and curious, she'd always meant well you knew that. But it could be rather degrading in cases such as this.

"What?" You questioned, tone a little higher than you expected.

"Let me see that!" Headmistress rushed from behind you -you'd imagined she'd heard the whole thing, she was quite nosy.

'Have to be,' she'd say, '-to get anything done here.'

And as she stood beside you, you grounded yourself and peered over her shoulder. The black ink is rather bold and threatening like it was demanding you read it. Demanded you paid attention, really.

'LOCAL WEALTHY MAN HAS EYES ON NEW MISTRESS' it read, in big blocky sort of lettering.

"'Mr. Grimes, the wealthy owner of Alexandria estates,'" your Headmistress read, head following the words as she went, "'-was seen with a young lady, still yet to be identified, for most of his time Saturday evening.' Oh my, Hershel-"

He waltzed into the room, fairly dressed for the day -off to a work call, you assumed, "Yes?"

"Your daughter's on the front page," she brandished the paper under his heavy eye -eyebrows settled deep in worry, "-can you believe it?"

"Huh," he hummed -taking the paper in his hands, shaking it to clear the creases, "-I have to say I assumed so."

"Assumed so?"

"Well, I'm off for a trip to the estate," he spoke, eyeing you in a certain sort of way with an amused smile slipping onto his face, "-at Mr. Grimes's personal invitation."

"No," Headmistress lilted -rather improperly, "-you're truly not."

"See for yourself," your father tugged a little letter out of his vest pocket -extending it to her with a rather smug sort of look.

You nearly jumped to look at the note over your Headmistress's shoulder -handwriting rather neatly printed like it took much thought. Like he truly worried over the words he'd said, something in you swirled.

'Dr. Greene,' it said -printed by the fragile tip of a quill, '-I would hope you indulge me with a visit on the 'morrow. I wish to discuss some things at your leisure, I'm sure you're familiar with what. My intentions are obnoxiously clear, I'm told. And please extend an invitation for dinner to the rest of your family come Thursday evening. Awaiting your response, Richard Grimes.'

"Oh my," Headmistress echoed, tone really bubbling up into one of joy and disbelief, "-oh my! This is-"

You laughed, connecting your hands at the skirt -flushing a rather obvious crimson as a smile slipped across your lips, "Wonderful. Father, may I-"

"It's all yours, my dear," he smiled, a sort of wondrously fond look dusting across his face, "-but I must go, wouldn't want him to wait too long."

Headmistress merely grinned, extending the note in her hand to yours and when you accepted it, she only grinned brighter. Bouncing a little in her step, she ran her hands over your arms -something you found you'd rarely seen.

"Oh," she breathed wistfully -you were surprised she hadn't twirled around like she was in a meadow, "-this is terrific! My dearest, darling Y/N. We must work on dresses for dinner, you must look absolutely delightful-"

"Headmistress," you groaned, despite the grin biting up on your cheeks. It was quite the contrary.

"No, no fuss, dear," she urged, hand dusting across your hair -as if there was something out of place, "-if such a man wishes to court you, you shall only look your best."

You rolled your eyes but remained rather submissive as she dragged you out the door -stores slipping through her mouth like mere suggestions. And Beth and Maggie on your tails, a part of you never wished to distract from this day -the joy in your step, the fondness of your family, and the spike of hope on the fact that maybe Mr. Grimes wished to court you.

You found that you were walking on air. Until you weren't.

It was near Thursday evening when your Headmistress had slipped into your room -silent, as you brushed your fingers across the embroidery. Your new dress had been rather pricey, all billowing fabrics and intricate details, but Father had reassured you it was doable. That this occasion was one to mark.

"Dear," she started, tone rather plain for her -especially since the dinner came so soon, "-may we speak?"

You turned to her -a distant sort of concern smoothing over your brow, "Everything alright, Headmistress? You're rather quiet for such an important dinner."

"Darling, the dinner has been canceled."

"Canceled?" you stilled -a sort of question dipped into your tone, eager, desperate, "Why ever would he have canceled it?"

"I don't-" she started, a deep sigh rattling through her body -something pointed in her eyes, "-I don't know, but we mustn't fret dea-"

"Did he-" you stopped -something shaky in your tone, "-Is it going to be rescheduled? Perhaps a week's time?"

Headmistress's eyes faltered, flicking to the ground, "We have... We have reason to believe that Mr. Grimes will not be rescheduling."

There was a heaviness settled on your shoulders, as you watched the rather solemn look settle on her face -this wasn't exaggerating like before. Not as she wept over the carriage, or sobbed over Maggie doing something far less than proper. There was something real there, in the smoothing of her smile to that of a flat line.

"What?"

"You don't need to worry about it, my dear-" Headmistress hummed, hands brushing over your shoulders like she had energy but there was a distinct lack, "-you're sure to have more choices."

"Choices?" you echoed -tone lost and a shake behind your words, you didn't want to cry, "-Headmistress, what happened? Did he... Is he not-"

"It's not important," she answered, but it was all wrong -tone uneven, eyes everywhere but matching you.

"It is," you reasoned, the tears prickling at the back of your eyes, "-it's at the very least important to me. And if you don't tell me, well-"

Your knuckles were white, grabbed onto the fabric of your dress -swirled of delicate embroidery crushed into your palm. It would need to be ironed again if you were to ever wear it. Something inside yourself told you that you wouldn't. Not after this-

"-I shall ask him myself."

Headmistress stood with you, matching your stride, "Y/N, that's utterly ridiculous, and I forbade you from going to that estate unattended!"

You ignored her pleas, moving in a straightforward motion. It was much like you weren't thinking, only going. You couldn't think, none of it made any sense and it would only make your head spiral further.

As you made your way down the staircase, she eagerly followed you -spouting out excuses, and 'forbidden' and 'disrespect'. It was all mere buzz in the back of your mind, drowning out the noise as if it was well-practiced.

"Woah," your Father rose from his seat, "-wherever are you off to this late?"

"Mr. Grimes's estate," you answered -simply and tone-numbed, "-to figure this all out myself."

"Darling," he spoke, "-let me gather my coat and I'll escort you at the very least-"

"Father," you exhaled, looking at him in the eyes -so as to convince him, to keep him focused, "-this is something I must do by myself. Or I shall never understand it and I'd like-" your voice broke, but you stood tall, "-I'd like to understand it."

He stood there for a moment -eyes peering down at you with a touched sort of fondness he'd always had when it had come to you and your sisters. He sighed, a deep sort of sigh, and something told you he knew what had happened himself -as he pulled your head forward to kiss your head, gently, "Okay, just be back in time for dinner, yeah?"

"Okay," you echoed -swinging your coat around your shoulders before making your way out the door.

It wasn't long down the road that the rain started -a light dusting turning into pouring rain. It made you shiver in the wind, but you found a sort of determination -the fire in your stomach came alive, and kept you warm. The mud of the roads had kicked up your skirt, and your hair had been rather thrown by the rain, but still, you put one foot in front of the other.

Something was biting at you, as you wandered up the steps -now empty compared to the ball weeks prior. The beautiful stone was so decorated you hardly felt like you could step on it without feeling guilty. And despite the turmoil, tugging deep in your stomach, you found some solace in its beauty. It gave you pause.

You looked down at your feet, watching the mud trail wash away behind you, but you'd still stained it hadn't you?

Would you ever not be a mere stain on his carpet?

Shaking your head, you gathered your courage back up and stepped closer to the door. Still as pristine as you last saw it, you watched as your hand made a smear there and your thoughts only grew louder -not worth it, don't belong, stain on his carpet-

The knock was a light one, as you gathered your coat around yourself -trying to solicit any sort of warmth out of the soaked fabric. It was all you could think of to do, as the tension settled heavily on your shoulders and the chill of the evening brushed across your skin.

You don't know why you hadn't expected it, everything added up when you looked back now, but then. All you wanted was an explanation.

When the door had opened, you hadn't paid attention to who opened the door at first, eager to get the words out, "Hello, is Mr. Grimes available? I wish to speak to-"

And then you paused, eyes slinking over the woman in front of you -she was slim with a well-crafted face and her dress was a beautiful sky blue -bodice more detailed than you could ever imagine. (Your new dress shied in comparison.) Her eyes were the most brilliant of brown (a shade you recognized from somewhere) and her hair tidied to perfection, you felt rather inadequate.

"Hello," she spoke, a little bewildered, "-what are you doing out in this rain, Miss..."

"Ms. Greene," you filled in the blank -shivering slightly from the cool air, "-my name is Y/N Greene. Lovely to make your acquaintance, Miss-"

"Lori," she added in, a wonderfully beautiful smile smoothing across her face, "-Mrs. Lori Grimes."

[sabastory]

Veni, Vidi, Vixi

A “Closed” sign, haphazardly slapped on to the outside of the front door. Even after hours, life at the Liberalia Lounge remains colorful and lively. Muffled laughter and cheers can be heard from within. Clinks of glasses, squeaks of chairs, the stomps of feet as figures of various sizes dance their troubles away in a flurry of boisterous jubilation. 

“...and we will NOT lay down and die!...”

The warm glow of candles bathe the room in a deep saffron. The flicker of which reflects off the watery eyes of a tall Dragonborn with rich blue scales. His face is youthful, kind yet defiant.

“...in DEATH, we show COMPLIANCE…”

One foot up on a chair, his size makes him easily visible among the diverse crowd of like-minded youths.  

“...Nothin’ changes, and the cycle continues…”

A kenku girl, cowl concealing her sullen green eyes, sits entranced by the speech. Her tea has gotten cold.

“...Now, lads. Tomorrow, we break that cycle!”

Tankards of beer, fists, hats, and more are thrust into the air as a chorus of cheers ring throughout the room. The Dragonborn triumphantly looks around the space and steps down off the chair. A skinny young man shoves a tankard into his hands.

“I daresay your first rousing speech was one for the ages, Milo”.

The Dragonborn takes the drink and looks up at the man. Early 20s, pointed ears poking out from locks of vibrant, golden hair.

“You sure it wasn’t too much? I’m not the best with words”

The man shakes his head with a smile.

“You did a wonderful job, mate. Really riled everyone up. Right, chief?”

He turns to look beyond the mingling crowd at a small figure sitting cross legged on the edge of the bar. They’re gently tuning a guitar, plucking the strings and twisting the pegs with eagle-eyed intent. The figure looks up. A kobold, brown scales and a piercing gaze. They give a tender smile, nodding in approval.

Milo calms down a bit and bashfully looks to the side. 

“Well, I’m just glad he let me. Usually he’s the one who does all the speakin’ and whatnot.”

There’s a pause.

“We’re really doin’ this?”

“The plans are all set up, it’s now or never.”

Another pause.

“Ya know, I never once expected to be a part of somethin’ like this.”

“I don’t think any of us did, but you said it yourself up there. The cycle can’t be broken if nothing is done.”

A cackle of laughter reverberates across the still lively room.

“Besides, you saw what happened at the Degraide. The blueballs are going to be spread thin looking for that little fella. That's why we have to take the chance now.”

Milo looks down at the floor, a million thoughts go through his head, all pounding at the walls of his skull like a troupe of tiny miners.

“I just hope he's okay…”

The man gently puts a hand on Milo’s arm.

“It’s gonna take a lot more than that to bring the little troublemaker down.”

He playfully pats Milo’s face a few times before grabbing his drink and disappearing into the crowd.

Left alone with his thoughts, Milo takes a big swig from the tankard he’s been fiddling with. 

Heir to an estate that no longer exists. The last surviving member of the prestigious Vanderburg family.

Funny where life can take you, he muses to himself.

[zeciex]

A Vow of Blood

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on. This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: “You will be trapped by the obligations of love and duty, unable to escape the web of expectations others have woven around you,“ the witch said….

Daenera Velaryon returns to King’s Landing with the intention of bolstering her mother’s position and reminding both the Greens and nobility that Rhaenyra is the rightful heir to the throne. She has a specific goal in mind: to be a constant source of annoyance to the Greens and is willing to play the political game without hesitation.

However, what catches her off guard is the way Aemond gazes at her and seems to relish in her suffering. He openly expresses his desire to bring about her downfall, her ruination.

This situation leads to a tense game of cat and mouse, with each move escalating the already high stakes. Will their precarious situation crumble as the dragons soar above, or will fate intervene?

After all, love often demands the sacrifice of duty, just as duty can sometimes lead to the demise of love. Characters: Aemond Targaryen X OC, HOTD characters.

Chapter 8: Schemes and Artisans

AO3 - Masterlist

A theater had been erected amidst the lush gardens of the Red Keep, its semi-circular structure complemented by the captivating backdrop of the vast expanse of the sea. The structure was a mix of marble and limestone, ornately carved, and had been built during the reign of Jaehaerys and Alyssan. 

Daenera had arranged three elegantly sets of tables on the balcony, offering a splendid view overlooking the stage and the sea. Her invitations had been extended to esteemed guests, including Tris Caswell, the second daughter of Lord Merryweather, Kaylys Merryweather, Lady Fell, and Lady Sylvie Rosby. An invitation had also been extended to Queen Alicent, but that had politely declined, much to Daenera’s delight. 

The early morning had been spent making the last preparations. The tables were filled with cakes and fruit, a colorful display of abundance and wealth, with the possibility of being watered with some of the finest wine Westeros had to offer. Daenera had chosen a colorful dress of orange and gold and her hair were braided in the traditional Targaryen way, keeping it from blowing into her face.

She was standing on the balcony, listening to the ladies talk among themselves excitedly, already indulging in the wine. The sun shone brightly and were it not for the shadow the stretched out fabric provides, they would surely have burned. 

Jelissa hurried into the middle of the theater, her steps clicking over the pale stone. She looked up at Daenera, a bright smile on her lips. “We’re ready!” 

Daenera nodded in acknowledgement. 

Jelissa hurried away, letting the guards at the gate know that they could open. She then sprinted back to stand with Joyce by the side of the rounded stage, the table in front of them filled with leather pouches, brimming with unspent money and the promise of more to come. 

A mass of people filed in through the gates. People of all colors, backgrounds and skills. Some were from Lys, some Essos, some Pentos. There were Westerosi singers, artists and musicians. Daenera smiled as they gathered by the backdrop of the ocean, all looking up at her expectantly. 

“Welcome, my artisans!” Daenera greeted loudly, letting her voice carry out into the theater. “I am Princess Daenera Velaryon, daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen and Laenor Velaryon.” Her eyes were sharp as they filtered through the mass of people, lingering on the few that displayed some sort of scrutiny to her words. “I’ve always enjoyed the arts of music and dance, and with my return to the capital, I found myself able to finally show patronage to the thing that I love.” 

It wasn’t the entire truth. While she enjoyed music, song and theater, she wasn’t as invested as some other ladies were to the arts. But the thing about artists was, that they traveled throughout the continent, singing their song, acting in plays, telling their stories. And such things held sway. 

It was a tactic Queen Visenya herself had once used. 

“My mother, the rightful heir to the Iron Throne, Princess Rhaenyra, has tasked me with finding artists to patronage. She too is a lover of the arts. We wish that you bring the joy you give us, out into every corner of Westeros. We wish you to sing your songs, play your tunes, and tell your stories to the people. That is our wish.”

And it wouldn’t hurt to sing a little something about her. 

“Now, please, show us what you’ve got!”

Daenera looked down at Joyce, giving the maid a nod, who nodded back in acknowledgement. Joyce called out the first number as Daenera took her seat, picking up a grape and propping it into her mouth. 

The first artist was a singer. He began with high appraise to Daenera, telling her about his adventures, where he had been, who he had sung for. That was the dreary part of the whole thing. She wasn’t interested in that, all she wanted to know was whether they could sing and what they’d sing. 

The Bear and The Maiden Fair seemed to be a favorite among the singers and musicians. Each time it was sung, it lost its appeal, until Daenera would rather listen to Aemond call her a bastard than listen to it once more. 

By the time they had reached number seventy seven, more than half the songs had been The Bear and The Maiden Fair. One third of what was left were Maids that bloom in spring, and the rest after that False and the Fair, and Flower of Spring and Little Flower. 

It was then an older man stepped out into the middle of the stage, a lute kept close to his breast, dark beard kept and freshly shaved. At the corners of his eyes were crows feet and a deep line cleaved through his forehead. He bowed to the princess and her company. “I am Samwell Tradd, my princess. I have played the cold seat of the North, to the sand dunes of Dorne, but I have played for none other as important as your mother, the good princess, Rhaenyra Targaryen.”

This piqued Daenera’s interest and she stood from her seat, carrying the cup of wine with her to the railing of the balcony, which she leaned against with her forearms, squinting in the sunlight of the afternoon. “You played for my mother?”

“That I did, Princess,” Ser Samwell Tradd confirmed. “It was a pleasure to play for her.”

“What did you play?”

Samwell Tradd chuckled to himself. “ Under the Dragon's eye.”

Daenera grinned. 

“She made me sing it… two dozen times over,” Samwell told the princess. “She would not hear another, only that, until my hand cramped and my voice was raw, and even then, she bid me continue.”

“Then would it not suit you if I asked you to play it again?” Daenera responded with a gracious smile. 

“For you, The Realms Flower, I will play it again.” Samwell Tradd plucked a few strings on the lute, humming to loosen his vocal cords, and then began to sing. 

She fled with her ships and her people,Her heart broken for those she could not save.Nymeria, fearless and wise, led with determination in her eyes. With ten thousand ships, she led her people’s flight, Across the Narrow Sea, seeking a new life. 

Under the dragon’s eye, they sailed so far and wide, Nymeria and her Rhoynar, their hopes and dreams allied. Through hardships and trails, their spirits remained high,Bound by a destiny, under the dragon’s watchful eye. 

Through stormy seas and treacherous tides they roamed, Leaving behind their homeland, their past disowned. With strength and resilience, they faced each new day, Guided by Nymeria’s wisdom, they found their own way. Through shifting sands, they found their place, United under Nymeria’s willful grace. 

So let the tale be sung, of Nymeria’s nobel quest, Of the Rhoynar’s journey, their resilience put to a test. Under the dragon’s eye, their spirit never broke, A testament to courage.

Under the dragon’s eye. 

“…Under the dragon’s eye,” Samwell Tradd finished. 

Daenera exchanged a knowing nod with Joyce, who discreetly handed the singer a pouch filled with jiggling coins. It carried more than mere currency, it was a symbol of her endorsement, and more significantly, Rhaenyra’s endorsement. Unspoken expectations were attached to the weight of those coins, urging the singer to spread the good word of Rhaenyra Targaryen, the Realms Delight, and the Rightful Heir to the Iron Throne. 

While some noble houses disregarded the significance of the common folk, Daenera recognized their importance. After all, it was the small folk who dutifully paid their taxes, who ensured the smooth flow of goods, who tirelessly toiled to create the fabrics and wines that the nobles delighted in. Though unaware of their latent power, the small folk held a sway over the very fabric of society. 

And with the small folks' support, they could sway their lords and ladies. 

By the time the sun had dipped down behind the horizon, Daenera’s head was buzzing with wine, sun and song. Fragmented lyrics sailed around her skull, not able to gather enough strength to become a full song. Lady Fell had left the younger ladies to their own devices, citing exhaustion. Daenera couldn’t blame the older woman. 

“Have you heard about Prince Aemond?” Kaylys Merryweather said, fanning herself with the fan, her cheeks flush with the wine. She smiled covertly. They were all leaning back, enjoying the otherwise quiet. Daenera had called it quits, telling the remainder of the performers to come back on the morrow. At the mention of Aemond her head propped up again. 

“That someone tried to poison him?” Lady Sylvie Rosby quipped behind her own fan, crumbs littering her chest from all the cakes she had indulged herself in. Kaylys Merryweather and Lady Rosby shared a look.

“I heard that it was an allergic reaction,” Tris Caswell interjected. 

“An allergic reaction? Please, that is the excuse you use for covering up poisoning,” Kaylys Merryweather criticized. “Someone poisoned his sword.”

“Do they know who did it?” Daenera inquired, her voice raw and tired. 

Lady Merryweather shook her head, her blond strands whipping over her shoulders and back again. “They have no idea. Some say it was a failed assasination-,”

“Oh please,” Daenera groaned at the grotesqueness of that statement. If she wanted him dead, she very well would have used something else, something less obvious and that left little to no evidence. An assassination with poisoning, should either be quick or drawn out over time, the ladder creating less suspicion if the poisoned had a history of illness. No one would suspect a thing after a long bout of fever and illness. People simply dropped dead of that. 

“A scorn lover then?” Lady Sylvie suggested. 

“Or Aegon,” Tris proposed. The women all nodded in silence, thinking. “Aegon is known for his absurd pranks.”

“But would he harm his own brother?” Lady Sylvie asked.  Aegon would most definitely harm his brother for his own amusement , Daenera thought. 

“I saw his hands. They were swollen and red, the poor thing. The Maesters said that they’d itch and burn for a few days, and there was little they could do.”

“It’s just awful,” Lady Sylvie continued in a huff. “If the princes aren't safe from such attacks, then we’re all at risk.”

“I severely doubt you are at risk, Lady Sylvie,” Daenera cut in. “Why would an assassin or prankster target you?”

Lady Sylvie blinked at Daenera’s cutting words. Daenera wouldn’t entertain her with pretends of importance. Lady Sylvie might be a lady, but she wasjust a lady. She was neither heir nor the first born. Her brother was more of a target and her father even more still. Her words seemed to have struck a chord and Lady Sylvie glowered. 

“I personally think Prince Aemond is quite handsome,” Lady Merryweather continued, ignorant to the tension. The second daughter to Lord Merrywhether were betrothed to one of the lower houses of the Reach, the name of which eluded Daenera. The Lady was five and twenty, a crone by small folks' accounts. She was allowed to dream though. 

Everyone stared at her.

“What?”

“He's been maimed,” Lady Sylvie chided. “He’s a one eyed prince. And have you seen the scar? It's so grim and disgusting. If it had been me, I would have flung myself from the highest window in the Keep.” 

You may yet do that .

“I think he’s handsome,” Lady Merrywheather reiterated. “And strong and tall. I can overlook the scar and maiming for the handsome side of his face.”

“You’ll have to sit at his right side then,” Daenera muttered, head throbbing with the subject of Aemond and ‘handsome’ in the same sentence. If the cutting edge of a knife was handsome, then she supposed Lady Merryweather was right. “Or perhaps it’s best to sit where he cannot see you.”

“What do you think he’s got hiding underneath his eyepatch?” Tris quietly asked. 

“Not his eye,” Daenera responded, bored with the conversation. 

They ended the evening not long after, scattering to the winds while the servant’s cleaned up and prepared for the day after. Daenera had dismissed her maids after presenting them with a piece of cake each and kind words for a job well done. Jelissa had been extremely excited, rambling on about her favorite singer, while Joyce teased her relentlessly. Daenera watched them go, turning on her heels to take the long way back to her quarters, heading through the garden. 

The rose bushes barely managed to overpower the smell of the city. On days where the wind came from land, it was especially rough. But on this day, the gods had graced them with a mild sea wind. The sky turned golden as the sun disappeared below the horizon, the last rays keeping the gardens from falling into shadow. 

Daenera took a deep breath, trying to clear her heavy head, rolling her stiff neck from spending the day on her ass.  

“You’re quite creative, I have to give you that,” Aemond’s voice split her quiet apart, the sound like a pick beating against stone, splitting it in two. 

Daenera’s shoulders immediately tensed up and she breathed out an annoyed huff. “You’re out of the infirmary.”

“Poisoned sword,” Aemond hummed, approaching her. It was strange to see him here, in the gardens, surrounded by soft beauty. It had been just as strange to see him in the sept, though there the heavy smog had coiled around him, curled up the nape of his neck, hung around him like a cloak of shadows. Now he was bathed in golden light that made him seem wholly unholy. 

He was no man of flowers. He was a sword, meant to cut, to stab, to bleed one dry. A weapon. 

“If it were poison you’d be dead,” Daenera corrected him. “Or severely sick. As I’ve heard, you must have had an allergic reaction to something.”

His scoff was sharp and dismissing. “An allergic reaction?”

“Those sometimes take a few days to recover from. I believe you’ll be back to your pristine state before the feast.” 

Her gaze flickered across his face, trying to decipher his intentions, though the wine clouded her thoughts. From his cheekbones down to the curl of his smirking lip, she studied him briefly before refocusing on his eyes, masking the curiosity clawing at her insides with thinly veiled sympathy that bordered on mock pity. “Does it ich terribly?”

Daenera squealed when Aemond gripped her arm, pulling her into one of the alcoves of the garden. They were totally enclosed by an overgrown pavilion, the vines climbing up the columns, to spread across the roof. She balked at him, ripping her arm out of his grip, noting the bandaged hand. “What are you doing?!” 

“You vicious little cunt,” Aemond sneered, his face contorting in disdain. 

The wine not only made her cheeks flushed but it dulled her senses as well. “Mmm, call me that again, I rather enjoy it.”

Aemond’s eyes were all fire and ice. They burned with an intensity she hadn’t yet seen, with something utterly terrifying and vicious. Something with teeth and claws and breath of fire. “I should punish you, and tear you apart.”

“What are you going to do, bend me over the knee like a child?” Daenera taunted him, flipping her braid back to its proper place, her eye glaring daggers at the prince. “If I remember correctly, you were the one to start this. You burned me. Or have you forgotten?”

Daenera raised her bandaged hand and provocatively waved it in front of his face. He had burned her writing hand, and she had retaliated by making it itch so intensely that he might desire to peel off his own skin. All she had done was to respond to his initial transgression. They could have maintained their distance, preserved civility, but he just had to bother her.

With a mocking expression, Daenera glanced down at his hand, then back up at him. “Oh, was it your swordhand? Can’t have a little fun without it?”

“Do you believe I won't retaliate?” Aemond bit at her. “Do you think I’m oblivious to your schemes?”

Daenera blinked. 

“Talking with Caswell, befriending his daughter, the musicians. You think I don’t know what you’re doing?”

“I have no idea what you’re alluding to,” Daenera feigned ignorance. 

“Surprising, I must say,” Aemond taunted with a sly smirk. “Your feeble attempts are bound to fail, I will make sure of it, Lady Strong. ”

Aemond advanced towards her, a predator stalking its prey, his teeth appearing sharp as fangs in the warning light. Shadows enveloped him, accentuating his sharp bone structure, tracing delicately over his features. In the dim light, he became the embodiment of wickedness. There was an inherent darkness within him that would forever resist any semblance of light of purity. 

It was as intriguing as it was frightening. 

Her back collided with a stone column, and the tendrils of the overgrown vines brushed against her bare shoulders, entangling with her hair. She swallowed, feeling the dizziness intensify from the wine. 

In an instance, Aemond’s hand clasped around her jaw, his fingers digging into the delicate flesh of her cheeks, reminiscing of their encounter in the sept. Her eyes widened, and she fought against his grip, attempting to push him away as her heart picked up speed. 

Aemond absorbed her strikes against his chest as if they were nothing, a menacing growl emanating from deep within him, gradually morphing into a coarse chuckle. “I’m only giving voice to what is so plain for everyone to see.”

“That is treason!” Daenera growled. 

“It is the truth, is it not?” Aemond asked amused at her anger. “ That’s why you play your little scheme with the lords and ladies, so desperately hoping to forge alliances in case your mothers imprudence comes to light. Should it not be my sweet half-sister who’s out here, tirelessly forging those alliances? Shouldn’t she be the one fighting tooth and nail to secure her own place as heir to the throne?”

“Aemond,” Daenera warned. 

“It’s what they’re all thinking,” Aemond continued maliciously. “Along with wondering whether you take after her.” 

Daenera tried to pry her face from his grip, but he held fast. 

“They’re all wondering whether a marriage to you is worth the risk. And weather you are as impudent as your mother…” Daenera beat against him, growling at the insult. “They think ‘will she carry bastards and try and pass them off as true borns’.”

The scent of smoke and crackling fire surrounded her as Aemond drew nearer. With each beat of her heart, a surge of heat cascaded down her spine, coiling in the depths of her belly. Her gaze darted between his piercing blue eye and the eyepatch, as if they would tell her something she didn’t know, and then lowered to his lips, drawn into a sharp sneer. Her heart shuddered in her chest, her gaze burning with intensity.

“I am going to ruin you,” Aemond vowed. “I’m going to ruin you, consume you, destroy you.” 

In a fleeting instant, his gaze descended to her lips, carrying a wicked and malicious gleam, brimming with both hatred and an unnameable, devastating force. His thumb brushed against her lips, a menacing gesture that threatened to smudge the lip tint she had applied to accentuate one of her redeeming features. If her mind had been clearer, she might have sunk her teeth into his thumb. 

Aemond’s pale locks tickled the exposed skin of her bosom as he leaned in, his breath scorching against the delicate shell of her ear. “I’m going to destroy you and win this war.”

He abruptly released her and Daenera pushed him away from her, breathing heavily and forcefully, eyes ablaze with indignation and fury. Who did he think he was?

She sneered. “I will take out your other eye before I let you destroy me. Two can play at this game. And if you burn me, I will burn you.” 

Once again, Daenera found herself feeling from the suffocating presence of Aemond. Clutching her skirts tightly, she propelled herself forward, each step one of panic and determination. The corridors of the Keep blurred as her hurried steps echoed, giving rise to the feeling of the ghosts laughing at her. 

King’s Landing had become a treacherous maze of power and deceit, and Aemond embodied the shifting tides of its dark underbelly. His transformation was undeniable, a chilling embodiment of calculated malevolence and an untamed chaos. He was an unpredictable storm she had to venture through. 

As Daenera ascended the stairs, the weight of realization settled upon her. Aemond’s presence had already begun to creep under her skin. She would have to root it out and shield herself from it, but she had a sneaking suspicion that the seeds of darkness he had planted wouldn’t be so easily removed. She supposed it was a challenge she would have to accept.

[bigfrozenfan-fanfics]

Chapter 79 - Corona

Links: Chapter overview, Character list, Map, Glossar Rating: M over all Publishing cycle: around every 2-3 weeks

Remarks: all my chapters contain carefully selected music tracks (try to use headphones). It’s your own decision if you want to use them or not while reading. The purpose is to musically support the respective mood of the plot. If you can please use a browser for reading (not the Tumblr app) due to the text formatting and music.

Not much seemed to have changed; Fabian thought to himself as he walked through the narrow streets of Corona, glancing up at the castle repeatedly. At least some of the high towers with the onion domes were always visible from almost anywhere in the city, making it easier to find the way there. The sun was high and the domes shone in their bright green colour. Some of the castle's side extensions looked so impossibly cramped that you couldn't help but wonder what the rooms behind them looked like. Did anyone live there at all or were they just rooms for storing precious things, with a small window for a view of the city below and to let in some light?

          Fabian had never been to the castle himself, not even on the days of civic occasions, for regular audiences with their Majesties or simply for court hearings and other official occasions. However, today would be the very first time this would change for him and he was already quite excited and curious at the thought of it. He walked on slowly and curiously, taking in the impressions of the city and refreshing his memories.

          Here in Corona, no two houses were the same and almost without exception they were all lovingly decorated, had specially shaped windows and front doors and some roofs were covered with tiles while others were elaborately decorated with several layers of thatch and often a small turret in between. In the lower part of the town, where he was currently standing, the buildings were mostly lower, usually with shops of various kinds inside and offering at most one storey above. Further up the hill and on the right-hand side of the island, there were buildings with up to three levels and wider streets, as far as he could remember.

          The further Fabian progressed into the town, the busier it became and he often struggled to find his way among all the people. Many of them were carrying their shopping home or were at work in front of the shops, florists lined the paths and offered all kinds of flowers, plants and herbs on artistically crafted carts or in front of the shop windows. Fabian couldn't help but inhale the beguiling scent. The noise level also increased the further he progressed. Laughing children ran towards him, mothers often followed with loud admonishing voices and raised index fingers and, last but not least, the unmistakable music of flutes, lutes, violins and drums once again cast a spell over him.

          An old memory suddenly appeared before his inner eye and he saw himself as a child standing with his father in the large market square, with the round fountain in the centre, cheering and clapping to the musicians, even dancing with the other children. That must be where the music was coming from and he followed the sounds in a sudden rush. Above him, garlands of flowers hung down over the street and colourful pennants with Corona's emblem, the sun. He knew this song and would not miss out on the coming experience for the world.

          Fabian remembered and now knew exactly where he was going and where to turn. Then he had reached the place where the musicians were playing, but it was not the market square with the fountain on it, but the semi-circular square in front of the church, on which the oversized sun symbol was emblazoned with white cobblestones.

          It was almost like back then and he watched with great joy as many people danced and jumped to the sounds of the music in a circle around the sun symbol, while the spectators all around clapped their hands rhythmically. It was a moment of pure joy and Fabian couldn't help but clap along loudly, smiling ear to ear. The next moment, for some unknown reason, he had caught the attention of two young female dancers and, laughing, they pulled him into the circle of dancers. It was a good thing that he had observed their dance steps carefully and, in the end, his training as a fencer probably helped him too; he thought as he joined the circle and danced along. The rhythm pulled him with it and at some point all the dancers raised their hands in the air and clapped to the increasing speed of the music.

          Fabian felt free and at home, clapping and jumping around the circle with people he didn't even know and didn't want to stop, it was so much fun. Then the dance got even faster. The dancers ran and jumped through the circle of the sun below them and pulled him along with them, laughing. He couldn't help it and tried to keep up as best he could. The clapping above their heads grew louder and louder. Fabian spun around on his own axis and left no doubt about his joy. The joyful faces that gazed back at him as he spun around even intensified the great feeling inside him. The dance finally ended with loud applause and cheers and many of the dancers even hugged each other afterwards.

          When Fabian finally caught his breath, he wondered and hoped at the same time that this hadn't been a dance competition. He laughed out loud at himself as he walked on, but this time to the fountain he remembered. Exhausted, he sat down on the edge, dipped his hands in the cool water and slapped his sweaty face. He still had a broad smile on his lips, which some of the bystanders also returned.

          Fabian wondered what would have become of him if he hadn't had to flee back then, if this unspeakable incident with his father's death had never happened. Of course, he wouldn't be alive today anyway, but would he have joined in the dance just now or at least clapped enthusiastically to him? Fabian's expression had changed back at these thoughts and instead showed thoughtfulness. His gaze wandered around and finally caught on a nearby mural. It showed a happy-looking young woman with an equally young man beside her, and standing behind them were King Frederic and Queen Ariana with their hands on their shoulders.

          Was this the missing member of the royal family? Fabian remembered a day that was repeated every year and on which the king and his wife had ordered thousands of lanterns to be released into the sky at night. If Fabian was not mistaken, this was supposed to be a sign for their daughter so that she could find her way home again one day. So that there on the wall had to be the missing Rapunzel and apparently she had found her way back to her parents after all. Fabian nodded to himself. If he was lucky, he would be facing her in the castle today.

          His stomach grumbled and reminded him at that moment that he hadn't eaten very much during the days on the ship. Moreover, it was no comparison to the food here in Corona. He somehow missed that flavour and even Arendelle couldn't offer him that, the two kingdoms were too different when it came to culinary delights. He looked around and tried to remember the way to a good tavern. But his steps surprisingly led him straight to the Brotherhood's fencing school

          Why the heck did I end up here of all places; he asked himself and looked around in alarm. Being discovered and recognised now would not be very helpful, quite the opposite. He walked quickly into the next best alleyway and a good distance further on. However, this path led away from his destination, the royal palace. Fabian was about to turn back or look for another route when a very familiar scent wafted around his nose. He followed it and finally stood in front of what he had been looking for — the tavern. Without much hesitation, he entered and sat down at a free table. Now, at lunchtime, the place should be more crowded, but he had ended up in the east of the city, away from the busy parts of Corona.

          Fabian shrugged his shoulders, took the menu that the landlord offered him as he walked past and took the opportunity to order a drink whose flavour he could barely remember — a cold beer. Then he read through the menu and came across a dish that made his mouth water. He ordered sausages with sauerkraut and a portion of grilled pork. While he waited, he looked around. It was a little dark in here but not uncomfortable. Only a few guests were present and he avoided eye contact with them.

          Shortly afterwards, the landlord had two plates in his hands, one of which he placed next to Fabian and the other next to a guest at the next table. The aroma wafting towards Fabian was spicy and he guessed it was the chilli dish that was on the menu with a little warning. Well, let's see how that turns out, he grinned to himself.

          As he savoured the first few bites of his delicious meal, he heard a startled gasp next to him. Fabian had been right in his assumption, because the other guest was waving air into his wide-open mouth with both hands, panting loudly and his face was bright red. His ears seemed to be burning up and the next moment he drained his tankard of beer in one go. Then, waving desperately at the innkeeper, he croaked for another glass of beer.

          “Perhaps you'd better eat dry bread to counteract the spiciness,” Fabian half whispered, “and don't drink anything liquid. That just makes it worse, you know?” Then he had to laugh out loud at the astonished face this guest made, quickly changing his order and asking for half a loaf of bread instead.

          One table over, another guest's head whipped round and searched the room for the source of the laughter, as Fabian noticed out of the corner of his eye, but thought nothing of it and continued to eat in peace.

          “You! I know you!” suddenly said a dark, powerful voice in front of his table.

          Fabian looked up in astonishment and found himself face to face with the person whose attention he had just caught.

          “Oh yeah?” Fabian replied after swallowing his bite.

          Both stared at each other inquiringly and thoughtfully for a moment and while an evil grin stole into the face opposite him, which was adorned with an old, long scar, it slowly dawned on Fabian and he realised with horror who was standing in front of him. He knew him only too well from his nightmares! This guy was none other than his father's murderer, whose face Fabian was able to mark with a swipe of his sword tip at the very last moment before he escaped with his mate. Fabian was unable to run after them at the time due to his leg injury, but this memory, which had tormented him for decades, now returned in one fell swoop with elemental force.

          Fabian slowly stood up and the next moment the other man had a long dagger in his hand, grinning slyly. At the last moment, Fabian was able to dodge the thrust, grabbed the mug of beer in the process and slammed the glass with full force against his opponent's temple. He collapsed with a disappointed, loud cry and in the next moment Fabian was already standing over him and kicked him with the tip of his boot, right in the attacker's face.

          He was about to grab the dagger to finish the job once and for all, but his opponent was still quick and alert enough to kick his weapon under the table out of Fabian's reach and scramble up.

          A fierce fistfight broke out between the two in the moments that followed. Fabian landed a targeted and brutal blow on his nose, which cracked loudly. Next, he felt the kick of one of his opponent's boots in his privates as he fell over backwards and the fountain of blood from his broken nose sprayed into his face. Fabian groaned, the other guest fled in a hurry and the landlord shouted at both of them.

          However, neither of them had realised that three royal guardsmen had been at the back of the room and were now pressing the brawlers to the floor with all the force they could muster. They had appeared out of nowhere and both of them were both extremely surprised and deeply disappointed. Both could not finish the job and now found themselves in the custody of the royal guard.

          When Fabian and the other man were finally interrogated in the castle, which was not entirely without blows to the face, the young captain of the guard joined them. He held a wanted poster in his hand, which he now held under Fabian's nose with sparkling eyes.

          “We've finally caught you! After so many years,” he said proudly to Fabian. “You'll be put in our deepest dungeon for life! This is the last daylight you'll see,” he added gloatingly. Then he turned to the other prisoner, “And as for you, you'll end up in a cell and be interrogated until you can credibly tell us what it was all about down in the tavern and why he smashed his beer glass in your face and then kicked you! There must be a good reason for that and don't you dare lie to us, because we'll soon find out the truth.”

~~~

At the same time, a lone rider arrived at the palace gates and caused a bit of a commotion among the guards who were on patrol there.

          As the tall rider dismounted from his young stallion, a guard from the royal house came running towards him.

          “Good evening, commander. We didn't expect to see you again so soon. Was your mission successful?”

          “Yes, there will be no further difficulties with the merchant guild, provided they keep their word to regulate the prices of goods in the city in future. However … was there anything urgent at the palace during my absence? Does Her Majesty require my presence in the throne room immediately?”

          “No, we have received no such message from Her Majesty, but …,” the guard appeared somewhat nervous and was noticeably hesitant to continue with his report.

          “What is it, lieutenant? Judging by your face, there was an incident while I was away, right? I can smell something like that.”

          “Indeed, commander. Something has happened in fact. The recently appointed Captain Ernst has thrown us into quite a turmoil. Two hours ago, some of our men arrested two people who were fighting in a tavern.”

          “So what? What's so special about that? When people fight in the Snuggly Duckling Pub, it's not a surprise, it's perfectly normal.” He shook his head reprovingly. “Ernst should know well enough by now that such cases are all too common in this establishment,” the veteran adjutant added coldly.

          “You're certainly right, sir, except that this incident didn't happen there, but in the middle of our city centre. The main problem with this matter is that one of these two men appears to be a former refugee of our kingdom. Captain Ernst has therefore assigned two guards to search the archives for wanted letters from the last 20 years, and indeed he can be found in the files; such a person was probably involved in a deadly duel back then. But as if that wasn't enough, the accused claims to be an ambassador from Arendelle - he even wants an audience with Queen Rapunzel!”

          The old man turned pale. “Where are Captain Ernst and this supposed Arendellean diplomat now? Take me to them immediately.”

          “In the interrogation room, please follow me.”

~~~

Fabian received a slap in the face from the young captain because he could only answer the same thing over and over again.

          But before the captain could continue, another commanding voice sounded behind him, “That's enough, you hothead!”

          He was undoubtedly referring to the young captain and pushed him aside.

          Fabian couldn't believe who he suddenly had before him, but didn't let on.

          “I know this man and would put my hand in the fire for him at any time. If there's anything he's guilty of, I'll find out personally. The accusation on the wanted poster is long gone, because the perpetrator was caught years ago and died in the process. Have you forgotten, Captain, or didn't you check the records personally? Furthermore, a foreign ambassador is protected by royal decree, he can't be arrested nor be processed by any means. Now, by my position at the Royal Council, I demand you to set free this man at once!” Then he looked disparagingly at the other prisoner. “You can lock this one up for interrogation later. One more thing, Ernst, you and I will have a serious conversation about this incident and the lack of your performance in this situation.”

          The men of the guard saluted him and followed his instructions without a word, only the young captain hung his head in disappointment, nodded and pushed the prisoner very roughly in front of him.

          Fabian and he looked after them and then Fabian's shackles were released with the words, “What are you doing here after all this time in Corona, fencing boy?”

          Fabian raised his eyebrows because he hadn't heard that nickname for a long time.

          “I'm on a very important mission on the direct orders of the Queen of Arendelle, horse tamer,” he replied with a grin, using an equally elegant nickname and pulling a sealed letter out of his boot, which he waved in front of his old childhood friend's face.

  ��       “So that's where you've been all these years, I see. I wouldn't have thought of that, I thought you were dead instead. Apparently you made yourself there though, if you have contact with the queen there.”

          Fabian nodded, stood up and gave his old friend a pat on the shoulder, “I wouldn't have believed I'd ever come here again either.” Fabian told him what the job was about and how it came about. “But tell me, how is it that you can deal with the captain of the guard like that?”

          “Oh, that's a long story. Just this much, I held that position myself for years until it became too strenuous for me at my age. Now I've been promoted to royal adjutant, I'm subject to the direct orders of Their Majesties and my word is just as good on their behalf as if they were giving the orders themselves. But wash your face first. You can't go under the eyes of the Queen like this. Follow me.”

          They continued talking in the castle staff washroom while Fabian wiped the blood from his face.

          “Didn't you once have a wild horse called Maximus? What happened to him?”

          “Unfortunately, my faithful friend is no longer alive, but he has a very lively colt and has passed on his best qualities to him. He's still too young for the hard training, but I love this horse. I call him Magnus now.”

          “I'm sorry, I didn't know that.”

          “How could you, you've been away for how long now, fencing boy? Thirty years or more?”

          Fabian nodded.

          “We should keep in touch in the future. What's it like in Arendelle? I heard from rumors. It's supposed to be very nice there in summer. Maybe I'll come and visit you with my daughter one day,” he said as they left the room.

          “You have a daughter?” Fabian blurted out, visibly surprised.

          “Adopted daughter, and now grown up, to be precise. Her name is Cassandra.”

          “I can see that a lot has happened in my absence. You need to tell me everything in peace and quiet, and yes, I would really love a visit from both of you. Arendelle is indeed very beautiful, especially the high mountains there. But the old and beautiful memories of Corona have almost overwhelmed me today. I miss my home so much, to be honest.”

          “Maybe we can go to the castle gardens later or somewhere else for a beer or two. Then we can catch up on some news, can't we?”

          “I'd love to, my friend. I have something very important to tell you about the other prisoner in particular. But before that, I would like an audience with the queen, if possible. I'm a bit nervous about my history, though.”

          “You don't need to worry about that any more. Not even about the Brotherhood, who withdrew their accusation after a witness who knew your father well and knew you were his son turned up. He witnessed the fight and exonerated you by credibly confirming that you acted in pure self-defence. The death of one of the attackers caused by you was in the heat of the moment and was therefore not a deliberate murder, he said. It's just a pity that you fled afterwards to an unknown destination and we couldn't tell you about it now that I know.”

          Fabian sighed audibly and his relief was clear to see. The former captain patted him on the shoulder encouragingly. “Follow me to the throne room, I'll announce you with Queen Rapunzel and you can now meet her without any worries.”

          He was back a short time later. “She's expecting you now, Fabian.” This was the first time he had addressed him by his real name, but he was deep in thought and didn't even notice.

          Instead, he asked, “What's she like? Down in the city, I saw a mural of her when she was young, with her parents and—”

          “—her husband and saviour, Eugene Fitzherbert,” his friend added with a smile. Well, she had an eventful past and has matured a lot since she reappeared in Corona as the daughter of the old regents, which was on the morning of the annual Lantern Night. She also had quite a turbulent time afterwards as a newly minted princess, but now she has two children, a son and a daughter, who have even been to Arendellle for the young queen's coronation.” He interrupted briefly, “Well, you'll meet her yourself in a moment and I'll see you afterwards. Good luck with your mission.”

          Fabian entered the enormous hall and walked slowly and with dignified steps towards one of the two thrones, the other was empty. In the background, he could see several men of the bodyguard in splendid uniforms. He bowed deeply to the queen and inclined his head before speaking, “Your Majesty, as your adjutant has no doubt already explained, I am Master Fabian from Arendelle on behalf of Queen Anna.”

          “Welcome to Corona, Master Fabian. Rise to your feet. How can I help you?”

~~~

Far north of Arendelle, in the Northuldra region…

          A small sailing ship with a small crew and Yelana on board dropped anchor off the southern sandy beach. Also on board were the Arendelle's master builders, who had the royal commission to inspect the Norting building and meet with the descendants of the builders to rebuild it in Arendelle.

          A small dinghy ferried the group of three across and Yelana led them past the four monoliths, illuminated by the afternoon sun, and into the camp. Neither of the two men, who were loaded down with measuring equipment, had ever been to this area before, but of course they knew all the stories about it. They stopped briefly at the tall stones with the symbols of the four elements and looked up in awe. The uncovered fifth monolith, whose actual mass was deep underground and only showed its smooth upper side, also attracted their attention. In the meantime, a wooden fence had been erected around it so that nobody, especially children, would accidentally fall into the pit and nobody would think of entering it.

          There was something striking about the fifth monolith that the two men didn't quite understand: in contrast to the snow-covered surroundings, its surface was clear and dry. It seemed to radiate warmth that immediately melted away the fresh snow. Yelana explained its meaning, making the connection to the nature spirits clear and thus also to Elsa, the fifth spirit.

          “We've heard a lot about it, including the four nature spirits. Is there any chance that we will see them? We've already seen the water horse Nokk when Arendelle was rescued, but not the fire and wind spirits, let alone one of the earth giants,” asked one of them on the way to the camp, looking around with interest.

          “There's no guarantee of that,” she replied, “certainly not for the earth giants, but maybe Bruni, the fire spirit, who often helps us with the firelight in winter, will turn up.”

          “What do they actually look like, these earth giants, how big are they?” asked the other.

          Yelana had to laugh, “Terrifyingly big and so heavy that you can hear their footsteps and feel them in the ground before you even see them.”

          A little later, they reached the first huts. Yelana was greeted and surrounded, beaming with joy. She explained the purpose of their being here, introduced them to the master builders of Arendelle and asked that the two old Northuldra master builders come to the norting house later for a chat.

          “Yelana, will you stay with us? Since you and Honeymaren left, our people have been without leadership,” said one of the Northuldra and others echoed his sentiment.

          Yelana pondered, for this was indeed a valid question.

          “Let me think about it in peace. I'll let you know later at dinner.” Then she continued on her way to the secluded meeting place.

          The two master builders were very impressed by the construction and the almost magical sight. They talked and gesticulated, then one of them took out his sketchbook and began to draw, while the other made comments and pointed out certain details. Yelana found herself somewhat superfluous, they were already so engrossed in their work, but as soon as her own masters arrived she would leave and go back to camp.

          She pondered the question from earlier. Actually, there was nothing wrong with her staying here for a few months. She would help with the planning of the new building in an advisory capacity, but construction couldn't begin until spring anyway, if not later. The new royal council also had to be formed first, so she had no official duties in Arendelle at the moment. Besides, winter had only just begun and would last for several months. The two Arendellians could sail back on their own and she didn't need many personal items that weren't already in her travelling bag. She got everything she needed from her people.

          She was leading the master builders inside the building when the two elderly Northuldra men appeared. She introduced them all and then said goodbye, telling them that dinner would be served soon and that she would organise a hut for them to sleep in in the meantime. Everything was now underway and her plan for Arendelle seemed to be taking shape. Yelana was satisfied.

          In the camp, she called some people to her and announced that she had decided to stay here for a few months. Everything else would follow. She also learnt on this occasion that the reindeer had recently moved to lichen meadows. Yelana suggested that perhaps they should also explore the eastern region for new grazing grounds, after all, they were no longer trapped under a magical bell of fog.

          Everyone was happy to hear the good news and agreed to her suggestion. Finally, Yelana took possession of her old kota again and threw her personal belongings inside before sitting down by one of the cooking fires and relaxed.

~~~

Anna became increasingly anxious and could hardly concentrate on her daily duties after she and her sister returned from Vesterland. There was still no news from the dispatch rider who had been tasked with finding out Kristoff's whereabouts. Kristoff had never behaved like this before and that could only mean one thing - that something must have happened to him.

          Elsa couldn't comfort her any more than Olaf could, and even Olina's chocolate couldn't cheer Anna up. Hadn't someone once claimed that chocolate would make you happy? Anna was far from it and paced up and down her study, restless and brooding.

          She reviewed the last three days. First, as Mari had promised, four supply wagons arrived with provisions for humans and animals. After everything had been distributed, the sisters sat together in the evening and read Lord Peterssen's diary. It was a fascinating read, but they left most of it aside and focussed mainly on preparing for the conversation with King Jonas. They saved the rest of the diary for later, as time was pressing.

          Peterssen's handwriting was pleasant, accurate and detailed, which said a lot about his character. His records went back to King Runeard's time, including mention of Vesterland and his plans to involve that kingdom in the financing of his dam project. But the Southern Isles and the royal house of Westergaard were also mentioned. There he wrote about facts and rumours of the time, as well as the king's marriage plans for his sons. Hans had not yet been born at the time, but some of his older brothers were already married or engaged to princesses from other kingdoms.

          Peterssen drew conclusions about the kingdom's expansion plans in preparation for possible trade relations and to inform his king in good time of possible dangers and political entanglements. Anna and Elsa also learnt about Rudi Westergaard and consulted another book from the library, which contained information on other kingdoms. They looked at each other in amazement. Apparently this Rudi was the only one besides Hans who had not yet married. He was also not considered to be particularly intelligent and King Jonas certainly didn't want someone like that on his daughter's side.

          The next day, they travelled with Mari to Vesterland. The talks with her father went quite well with the help of this information and the descriptions of their personal experiences with the Westergaard royal house, and King Jonas promised to give them serious thought. He had also promised to come to Arendelle's winter ball with Mari. All in all, the sisters were quite pleased with themselves and Mari thanked them warmly with a big hug.

          That had been yesterday and now Anna had time to think about other things again and couldn't help but be very worried about her Kristoff.

          There was a knock and she rushed to the door to open it. Surprisingly, Kai was standing in front of her and she could only stare at him for seconds in surprise. He looked rested and smiled at her, completely relaxed. Kai must have only returned from Snoob in the last few minutes, Anna surmised. Then she simply took him into her arms in an unkempt manner, casting a worried glance left and right into the corridor. But there was no sign of Kristoff.

          Kai stiffened at this extremely unusual greeting from his queen and cleared his throat.

          “Your Majesty, … er … is something wrong?”

          Anna let go of him and shook her head. Then she invited him in and closed the door behind him.

          Once they were both seated, she said, “I'm so glad you're back, Kai. To be honest, I've missed you. But please don't think wrongly about it now, because you really deserved your holiday with your family. But tell me, do you know where Kristoff is? He didn't come with you, did he? Did something happen to him in Snoob?” Anna looked at him worriedly.

          Kai shook his head in amazement. “Isn't he here already? I thought that after he travelled on to the royal naval base on the advice of the Baron of Snoob, he should have been back by now. A messenger from Arendelle was in Snoob yesterday morning and also enquired after him. He followed his travel route.”

          Anna replied in the negative and shared her concerns with Kai.

          “It will be all right, Your Maj … er, Anna. What could happen to him there, or on the way there. He was probably just delayed and is already travelling back with the messenger. Do not worry.”

          Anna nodded, “I'm sure you're right, but still, it's so unlike him to keep me in the dark all this time.” She paused for a moment and realised that it was actually a bit rude to Kai to just ask him about Kristoff. “What do you have to tell? I'm curious, how are Karl and his wife — what's her name?”

          “Hanna,” he replied, “they're both doing really well.”

          “Oh yes … her name almost sounds like mine, how could I have forgotten that,” she said with a soft giggle, “and what else have you been up to?”

          Kai talked about long conversations, the pleasant atmosphere in Snoob, even while Kristoff was still there, before he left after the talks with the Baron, long walks and the refreshing of old memories in his homeland. In the end, he told Anna about the outcome of the talks with the baron about the candidates for the new royal council.

          “That sounds very promising, Kai. Thank you for your efforts and I'm also pleased that you had such a pleasant time with the family. You look refreshed.”

          “Thank you, Anna, it was—,” he began, as someone knocked energetically.

          “Come in,” Anna said and stood up expectantly.

          It was the messenger, who bowed low as he entered, but left the door open. Anna began to hope and expected to see Kristoff at any moment, but then why had the messenger knocked and not him and left the door open? Except … Anna turned pale.

          “Your Majesty, I have just returned and can bring you the following report. Your fiancé, Kristoff Bjorgmann, arrived safely at the naval base, but he left the peninsula on a ship. After that, his trail was lost and I could not be informed of his destination due to a lack of written instructions from you. Unfortunately, despite my assurances, I was refused this information. I'm sorry.”

          Anna could say no more than, “I see…”

          Then he bowed again and left the study. This time, however, he closed the door behind him.

          “What the …,” she began, but then changed her mind because of Kai's presence, who had also got up and was now looking at her very sadly.

          “Would you please leave me alone, Kai? I need to think. Oh, and please send Elsa to me when you see her, but there's no hurry.”

          “Very well,” he said and left her study with an understanding nod.

~~~

Three days later …

The first ship to moor in Arendelle's harbour was the ARN Voyager. Elsa and Anna made their way to the harbour to meet Master Fabian in person. Both were quite curious to see if he had been successful and what else he had to report about Corona. After all, it had been a while since they had been in contact with this kingdom.

          Fabian's news was extremely positive and Voyager's cargo hold was filled to the brim. Reason to celebrate. They invited him to the castle for dinner and a cosy evening in the fireside lounge. He obviously had a lot to tell them and they were both eager to learn more.

          “You look different somehow, Fabian,” Anna realised. “I can't put my finger on it, but the way you talked about your old home, the almost rapturous descriptions—,” she left the sentence open.

          Fabian exchanged glances with both sisters, who were sitting cosily on the sofa in front of the fire with a cup of hot chocolate. He had made himself comfortable on an upholstered chair near the fire so that he could look them both in the eye as he spoke.

          “Well, it's true, the visit to Corona has changed me in some ways after such a long absence and … well …,” he paused a little before continuing, “I miss my old home very much and since an old matter was finally resolved there, I'm seriously considering whether I should return.”

          The sisters were silent for a few moments and just looked at him.

          “We would miss you dearly, Fabian,” Elsa finally said, “but I can understand your feelings.”

          Anna nodded, “That's true. But tell me, what old thing were you talking about? I mean … I don't want to be too nosy and you don't need to tell us about it … um.”

          Elsa giggled, “You bet you're nosy, Anna!”

          “Sorry,” Anna grinned back.

          Fabian waved her off, “No problem. I'm so relieved about it myself and to be honest, it was me who was mistaken.”

          Then he began to tell his long story and the sisters, who hadn't known nothing about it before, hung on his every word. It ended up being a long and satisfying evening full of surprises for everyone.

~~~

The following morning, another ship arrived in the harbour. An elegant schooner brig headed for the berth right next to the Voyager, which would be completely unloaded today. Nobody knew this ship and it looked as if it had just come from the shipyard, with brightly shining sails, a long, waving banner with the crocus symbol on it and a hull that had certainly not often seen the seas. Curious onlookers formed on the quay wall, some pointing their fingers as they chatted with their companions and some even waved to the deck crew. Eyes were squinted to recognise the ship's name. ARN Draba was an unusual name for many and undoubtedly the newest ship in the Arendelles Royal Fleet.

          Commands rang out on deck and the sailors hurried to carry out the orders. Slowly the Draba glided closer and when she was moored, a blond mop of hair appeared at the railing with the antlers of a reindeer beside him. Next, a wagon was hoisted over it and the gangway lowered.

          Only minutes later, Anna had also been informed of the arrival by Kai in her study. She was almost on her way to the dining room to have breakfast with Elsa, but stopped in the middle of the room. While Kai left again, she was confusingly torn between two completely contradictory feelings. On the one hand it was a great relief that Kristoff was still alive and would probably be knocking on the door any minute now, and on the other, anger that he had let her down so badly and caused her so much worry without a single bit of news.

          She clenched her fists and slowly the second feeling took over. Anger was building up inside her. Should Kristoff come to her himself, she would not run into him this time. Anna was eager to hear his excuses and at the same time extremely curious as to where he had actually been all this time. Had he simply come on board for the ship's maiden voyage? Had he not given a single moment's thought to the consequences of his actions?

          It was another half an hour before there was finally a knock. Anna, who was now sitting back in her armchair with an annoyed expression, recognised him by the way he knocked and instead of simply saying 'Come in' she walked slowly to the door and finally yanked it wide open. It was indeed Kristoff and his broad grin vanished instantly when he saw Anna's annoyed face. He carefully entered without taking his eyes off her.

          Anna slammed the door behind him so loudly that he was startled and visibly flinched. Anna slowly stepped towards him, pleased with his reaction and the look on his face, until he had to back away a little and slumped into the armchair in front of the table.

~~~

Nobody slammed any doors in Arendelle Castle, especially not at this time of day! Elsa flinched just as she was about to shove a spoonful of boiled egg into her mouth and the yolk dripped down onto the table.

          The sound seemed to have come from above. Elsa stood up to clearly reprimand the person responsible, left the dining room and walked along the corridor towards the stairs, where she could see a few running feet scurrying up.

          What was going on today, she asked herself with furrowed eyebrows and followed those feet upstairs. Once there, she couldn't believe her eyes because she saw several girls from the castle staff listening at the door and whispering to each other. But it wasn't just any door, it was the door to the royal study!

          Elsa quietly stood behind the group, crossed her arms in front of her and then asked loudly, “What's going on here?”

          Everyone in front of her flinched violently and turned to look at her with wide eyes.

          “You're listening at the Queen's door? Are you completely nuts? Where are your manners! Troll yourselves and get to work, but fast! … shoo, shoo …” Elsa made a gesture with both hands as if she wanted to chase a pigeon away from the windowsill. “And not a word to anyone, understand?” she called after them.

          The girls fled with bright red faces and Elsa had to shake her head in disbelief. She was already putting one hand on the door handle when an angry tirade rang out from behind it — from Anna! Elsa immediately hesitated and couldn't help but listen at the door herself.

          She couldn't hear much through the thick door, only that Kristoff was in the room and had to listen to a first-class lecture. Were they having their very first marital quarrel? Not that Elsa had ever witnessed one herself, but she had heard about it. She didn't want to be in Kristoff's shoes right now. But she had never experienced Anna like she was now. She screamed at him and was beside herself with rage, that much was clear.

          Should she just burst in and try to save what could still be saved, or should she let things take their course? It was a difficult decision and she first had to think about what would happen. But no, as queen, Anna was not allowed to overreact like that and she could only feel sorry for Kristoff.

          Elsa knocked loudly three times and it became quiet inside. Only then did she open the door and quietly pushed it shut again behind her. Her eyes flitted back and forth between the two of them. Anna was standing in the middle of the room with a bright red face, her expression furious. Kristoff, on the other hand, sat facing Anna in the armchair in front of the table and hung his head. Elsa crossed her arms.

          “I don't want to disturb your full-blown marital quarrel, but never before has anyone in the castle slammed a door so hard that you can hear it all the way down to the lowest floor. I've just had to shoo five of the new maids away from your study because they were eavesdropping, Anna. Eavesdropping! Honestly, what's got into you?”

          Her sister rolled her eyes and pointed at Kristoff with an outstretched arm without looking at him. Her eyes were fixed on Elsa instead. “Because of him!”

          “Anna, you can't be in your right mind to behave so childishly. Have you forgotten that you are the Queen of Arendelle?” Elsa had become a little louder, but didn't want to start an argument with her sister. She was old enough to realise her own mistakes. “Well … I realise what this is about, but you can't treat your husband like this just because he didn't send you a message and came back later than expected, can you?”

          “Well, then let him tell you where he was.”

          “Kristoff?” Elsa looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

          He sighed, “In Weselton, with the Duke's nephew.”

          Elsa's jaw dropped and Anna just said tersely, “See?”

          “Uhh … I hope you haven't arranged any new trade treaty with the Duke, Kristoff, have you?”

          “Not that, but … well, let's put it this way … I promised to put in a good word for them for helping me, er, Arendelle.”

          “Wait a minute … I …,” Elsa was speechless. Then she grabbed a chair from the wall, placed it in front of Kristoff and sat down. “You should sit down as well, Anna. Let's talk about this bit by bit, calmly … all right?” She looked at her sister encouragingly and she finally complied with her request.

          ”All right, let's take it in turn and start from the beginning, Kristoff. Just tell us everything.” Elsa spoke in a reassuring tone and looked at Anna admonishingly.

          While Anna sighed and nodded, Kristoff began to talk about his idea, his desire to help in the current kingdom emergency, his experiences at the naval base, the sea voyage and everything that happened there. He also said that it was ultimately not his fault that the return journey was delayed, but because of the captain's decision. Next he came to the experiences on Weselton and ended with the two people who were mainly responsible for the help and, above all, why they did it.

          ”So, … Leopold and Lutz, I remember them well,” said Elsa, “don't you too, Anna?” She nodded with a somewhat confused expression on her face. “You see, if you'd only let Kristoff explain, it wouldn't have come to the situation we had earlier. I guess we're even with those two now.”

          “But still, Elsa, a little message to me and I wouldn't have been so worried.”

          “Well, if you were so worried about Kristoff, then there must be love behind it, so please make up with each other, all right? But please promise me that you won't slam any more doors like that, and you, Kristoff, should perhaps think a little more about Anna on your next excursion.”

          “As for that, I did think about her a lot and brought something special,” Kristoff replied and stood up.

          He walked round the table towards Anna and reached into a small shoulder bag, which the sisters only just noticed.

          “I'm really sorry, darling. It won't happen again, I promise. Look what I've carved for you on the Draba. It was only finished today.” Kneeling down, he handed Anna the love spoon. “Strictly speaking, we're already married, but I wanted to make up for this gift before the official wedding anyway. After all, I had plenty of time to do it on the ship.”

          Instead of saying anything, Anna knelt down to him with a smile and simply hugged him tightly. Then she said, “Thank you, honey. It turned out really nice and this traditional gesture is really sweet of you. I forgive you.”

          They both stood up and kissed.

          “Oh, and I have a further little present for you that I saw in a shop in Weselton. It looked familiar to me somehow, but I don't know where it came from. But I thought it was cute and immediately thought of you.”

          When Kristoff pulled out the little felt bird and held it out to Anna, she wasn't the only one with wide eyes.

          “It looks almost exactly like—“

          “Sir JørgenBjørgen!” Elsa added in surprise and immediately joined the two of them to compare the stuffed bird with hers. Kristoff looked back and forth between the two, somewhat perplexed.

          “You already know the puffin and have even given it a pet name?”

          “Elsa has one that she inherited from Papa. It's a long story,” explained Anna.

          “It looks a bit different and without the same beady eye. That's nice. Now you've got one too, Anna. I wonder what name you'll give him.”

          “Hmm…” She looked at Kristoff, pondering. “I think I already know … now that you've told us about the tour with the duke's nephew and that he supposedly has two talking magpies. I'll call him Sir Rupert, then I'll always know where he's from.”

          Everyone laughed and Elsa said, “Good choice, sis.”

~~~

---

Remark: I hope you have enjoyed this chapter! Please leave a comment if you liked the story, I would be pleased to read your opinions, even criticisms. If you want to be tagged as soon I publish the next chapter please let me know, except you are already tagged :-)

Tagging: @true--north @annaofthenorthernlights @dronning-formynder05

[roguelov]

ok hear me out. reader who is a music artist/pop star. not a basic one, but very unique and artistic, almost groundbreaking, and a SICKENING performer. reader wearing these gorgeous custom couture garments, many of which are highly revealing. ass and titties are out on the regular when they’re on stage. and morpheus is almost always waiting backstage to dick them DOWN. there’s so much you can do with this i don’t even know where to start, i might just write a whole separate post

YOU BETTER RIGHT YOUR OWN POST CUZ THIS IDEA IS SO FUCKING GOOD AND I NEED TO READ YOUR OTHER THOUGHTS

You waved and bowed to the still energetic crowd. They all continued to scream and shout, practically begging for more. You laughed, thrilled by their enthusiasm but you had to leave.

Someone was waiting for you.

You didn’t dare keep him waiting long.

Walking backstage, you opened the door to the private green room only for arms to instantly wrap around your waist. Your back was immediately flushed against Dream. You laughed softly.

“Well, did you like it?” You asked, tipping your head back onto his shoulder.

“Yes, among other things.”

Your lips curled into a smirk. “Really? Like what?”

His hands traveled down your sides. He truly couldn’t get enough of your costumes or outfits. He bent his head, letting his lip brush down your bare shoulder. “I’m sure you can deduce what, my love.”

“I could,” you hummed, craning your neck. “But, I want to hear you say it.”

He laughed once. His lips trailed up to your ear and purred, “You looked ravishing as always.”

“Thank you,” you sighed blissfully.

His hands slowly gripped your hips, and grinded you back on him. You gasped softly. You shivered, feeling the tent in his pants. God, he truly couldn’t restrain himself.

You loved it.

“It is such a shame your outfits always end up … damaged.” His fingers trailed up the back of your corset.

“And whose fault is that?” You teased.

“How am I responsible when my love is wearing such revealing outfits and expects me to behave?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Oh, so it’s my fault?”

“Possibly.” He slowly began to untie the back.

“Ah, wait.”

You stepped away from him. His face instantly fell. He tried to step closer, but you stepped back. You continued the dance until you bumped into the makeup and hair station. But, before Dream could close the gap, you quickly kicked out your foot pressing it firmly in his chest.

Dream’s eyes fell to your boot, then slowly dragged up your leg and body to your eyes. A shiver ran down your spine. His eyes held a new dark desire.

“You will behave tonight,” you stated.

“Will I now?” He cocked his head.

“You will sit back and listen to me.” You pointed to the couch in the corner of the room. “Now, sit down and I’ll give you another show.”

He chuckled. His eyes flickered to the boot still on his chest back to you. “Okay,” he hummed. “Put on a private show for me, my love.”

[chirp-a-chirp]

Court of Darkness: You Look Good With…

Here’s a list of items each prince finds most attractive on the MC when the MC wears them.

…

Guy - Ruby Rings

Upon their engagement, Guy gives MC a beautiful ruby ring, an heirloom passed down generations by Avari royalty. He’s made a slight modification to the ring, adding a protection spell to have it shine like a beacon when poison is detected—one can never be too careful with assassination attempts.

The ring is a sign—one that shows MC’s power and commitment to Guy, and a warning to others that she is his and his alone. To the Avari court’s great surprise, Guy has a second nearly identical ring made that he wears. It too is a sign to others—that he will have no other being than her by his side.

Lynt - Matching Cloak

The day Lynt gets giddy with excitement is one where MC shows off a white and emerald green cloak made by an Akedian tailor residing in Colde. The cloak is similar to the one that Lynt has in that it doubles as a sleeping bag. Unlike his cloak, MC’s cloak can magically expand to hold two people in it.

Lynt instantly wants to try wearing MC’s cloak with her. And thus Lynt discovers a second enhancement to the cloak—it includes an enchantment that allows users to blend into their environment like a chameleon. Now he and MC will have fewer interrupted naps!

Sorry Tino—your job at finding your wayward prince just got harder.

Toa - Scarf with Hidden Pockets

MC knits a gigantic cobalt scarf to match Toa’s piercing blue eyes. The scarf is long enough to easily accommodate two people. MC uses the scarf to snuggle with Toa when walking in town or sitting in the S:Rank lounge. The scarf is wider and thicker at each end so that MC can secretly hold Toa’s hands underneath it to warm them up.

Toa adores the scarf—it was crafted with love, and he gets to subtly enjoy MC’s touch without showing off too much PDA. Fenn often tries to join the cuddle scarf session, to Toa’s extreme annoyance. In these moments, MC brings a smile back on Toa’s face by grabbing a homemade Carmel from the scarf’s hidden pockets and placing it in his mouth.

Fenn - Jasmine Perfume and Fishnet Stockings

When it comes to Fenn, everything feels like a caress—his quips, his whispered words, his elegant fingers dancing across exposed skin. Conversely, Fenn feels most comforted by MC when he smells her jasmine perfume. He nuzzles against her neck whenever she is near, wanting to drown in her scent. Even if she is not with him, he’ll snuggle up against her Jasmine-infused pillow until she returns—after all, she is the home that he can always return to.

Fenn also has a thing for MC wearing skimpy outfits that show off her legs—especially fishnet stockings.

MC: Fenn, I feel so exposed wearing these!

Fenn: Well, that’s the point, isn’t it Treasure?

MC: Says the man who’s fully clothed right now! *Pouts*

Fenn: Ah, that can be quickly dealt with. *Wink*

Roy - Rose Petal Earrings and His Jacket

Sentimental man that he is, Roy saved a few rose petals that floated in the air with their first kiss. He freeze dried two of the petals and worked with an Invidian silversmith to craft a set of rose pedal earrings encased with silver. Roy smiles whenever MC wears them…which is constantly.

The earrings, however, are Roy’s second favorite thing MC wears. The absolute favorite thing is discovered by accident. One day, MC comes out of Roy’s shower, but is unable to find a towel. Since she hasn’t mastered the spell for drying herself off, she grabs Roy’s white and pink jacket, dons it like an impromptu bathrobe, and walks out to his room.

MC: Hey Roy, do you have a towel?

Roy: *Mouth is partially open, golden eyes widening in astonishment*

MC: Umm, sorry about wearing this Love, I couldn’t find—

Roy: *Pulls MC to his chest* By Creator, how are you so adorable and alluring at once?

Congrats MC—your date plans with Roy just got thrown out the window.

Rio - Apron and Flour

Cooking and baking are among Rio’s favorite things to do with MC. His heart is at its fullest when he and MC are in the kitchen, making food for themselves and their friends, flour speckled on their noses and cheeks.

MC gets two aprons, one for her one for Rio. They both say “Kiss the cook” on the front. Rio takes this message quite literally.

MC: Rio! I have jam on my lips and face now!

Rio: Oops, let me get that off for you Sunbeam! *Kisses/licks jam off MC’s face*

Lance - Leather Jacket

A black leather jacket looks VERY good on MC. It highlights her curves in all the right places, it’s certainly edgier than what those ridiculous S Ranks wear, AND she looks quite pleased with wearing it given the smile she graces Lance with.

MC smiles because the jacket contains special pockets—ones she uses to hide treats for Grushia the wolf or Christop. MC isn’t sure who is happier—Christop or Grushia at getting the yummy food, or Lance at seeing the pup and boy so happy.

[faneliansficaloh]

A Lifetime of Happiness

(Ch 1) (Ch 2) (Ch 3) (Ch 4) (Ch 5) (Ch 6) (Ch 7) (Ch 8) (Ch 9) (Ch 10) (Ch 11) (Ch 12) (Ch 13) (Ch 14)

This is Chapter 15

Read in AO3

Notes

----------

16th January 1818

Dear Colin,

As I only have the one child, I have no use for your strategy. Abby is a very sweet child, she gives me more joy than trouble. I’ve heard that this might change in the next months, but I don’t think so. There is something in the way she looks at things that tells me she has more interest in learning and making the world work for her than quarrelling with it.

Eloise tells me I only say these things because it is my baby and she might be right. She already calls me mama, so to me she is the smartest and most beautiful girl in the world.

Am I supposed to pity you that your duties include lavish dinner parties? Poor man, having to endure the society of the Portuguese elite. It sounds to me like your true intention was to brag and if so, you should do so openly. Tell me about the people you meet and the things you learn.

As the weather improves here we will see more of our neighbours. The Hylton’s are most amiable and they will send us a gift of preserves or a bushel of fruit on occasion, and we respond in kind. Their eldest grand daughter, Virginia, plays the pianoforte beautifully, she reminds me of Francesca she plays so well, and her sister Beatrice has a very beautiful singing voice. You might remember them, they were at our little party in London before Alfred left. Margaret does play the harp but we have not brought one with us. I regret not being more musically inclined myself, for unless there is a party we do not have any means to to enjoy music at home. I never stood a chance to play properly, however, always felt my hands were too small and my reflexes too slow to reach all the keys on time. As for my singing voice, let’s just say that Prudence is more gifted.

The way you’ve described the ocean at night and the gentle rain, I am growing very curious about the journal describing your voyage. Was it monotonous or did every day present a different view? Even when it is perfectly fixed in place, the view from my window changes constantly, although subtly. The clouds that come and go are never the same shape and the colours of the sky when the sun is low in the horizon do vary with them. The hillside takes longer to change, but it will grow green, then will be full of colourful dots and eventually go to a muted hay colour before white snow covers it completely. Flocks of birds will swirl around at dusk, looking for a place to pass the night among the trees on the south side.

I cannot imagine all that can change aboard a moving ship, sailing so far away over the deep ocean, so you will have to tell me.

Yours, Penelope.

1815 – A Celebration

Lord Debling had proposed at the Boehms’ on the 21st of June. It was a Wednesday and the most extraordinary coincidence had occurred, that just as he asked her to be his wife, people around the bench they were sitting on started hurrying up to the windows or out to the street, so when she actually accepted, he looked around and having made sure no one was paying attention to them, he had kissed her. It had been a very quick and soft kiss and she had been completely caught off guard so they both had smiled like mischievous children.

The next morning Penelope’s bedroom door opened and in came Eloise with indecipherable pursed lips. The light entering from the window made it seem as if fairy dust danced around her. As soon as the door closed behind her, Eloise produced the latest Whistledown and started to read from it.

“To those who doubt Miss Featherington’s means to secure such an admirable match, allow me to offer that Lord Debling was once overheard admiring the lady’s eloquence. Proof enough that the man must be truly charmed by her, for whoever has exchanged more than a greeting with Miss Featherington can attest to the contrary. Whether it is a love match or not, this author congratulates them both.” She put it down and stared directly at Penelope, who had been listening to her from her bed, looking rather amused. “Even when congratulating yourself?”

Penelope, who was sitting in her bed, crossed her arms. “It is intended to be a bit fun, Eloise. There is no fun in just saying ‘so and so are to be married’ and not add anything to it.”

“If you say so.” She rolled her eyes before changing direction “By the look of things downstairs it seems your mother is not wasting any time”

“I think she started even earlier, probably from the day he asked for her permission to propose. I’m afraid to interfere with the engagement party at all, I might lose a limb if I oppose anything. But it is all in exchange for the wedding itself being a simpler affair”

“What is the plan, once you are done for, I mean?” Eloise smiled playfully as she sat on the bed besides Penelope and reached for a macaroon from the box next to her.

“After the wedding breakfast we will depart for Surrey, and then I will spend the next months preparing to run things in his absence for a long, and as of yet uncertain amount of time”

“I thought he would leave immediately” she said with her mouth full.

“No, they are to set sail on April and then it will take a couple of months or so for them to arrive to the point where the last exploration stopped, and they will continue on from there.”

“It all sounds so daunting, Pen.” Eloise’s worry showed in her face “There is still plenty of time for you to change your mind” she took her hand in hers as she said this.

“I don’t want to change my mind. I am very lucky, El. Lord Debling is a good man so I do not fear utter misery in my future, I actually enjoy his company, and the fact that his research keeps him occupied and even away for such long periods of time will allow me to keep writing.”

“It is all very sensible and practical, yes.” She didn’t sound very convinced that this was really good for her friend.

“What I don’t find sensible is your new found friendship with Cressida of all people”

“I’m not sure that I trust her enough to call her my friend, and we’ve only truly talked a couple of times, but I have learned to see some qualities in her.”

“Qualities!” Penelope seemed offended at the thought.

“Have you noticed how she always knows what to say to upset you – to upset anyone? She has this uncanny ability to read people, as much as she hasn’t touched an actual book in years”

“What do you mean read people?” She looked at Eloise like many people did, regularly – as if she had said something unintelligible.

“She has a very quick understanding of how people feel, not just how they act, but how they truly feel or what motivates them. It is terrifying but it is also illuminating.”

“What has she told you?” Penelope was growing suspicious of what seemed to be admiration for her greatest foe coming from her best friend.

“You will need to find her a husband, since you snatched the last good one” she said, with her mouth full.

“Eloise, what did she tell you?” Penelope looked at her admonishingly.

Eloise turned to look at the ceiling, as if recalling and started counting her transgressions with her fingers “Apparently I am a terrible listener, I’m all talk and judgemental and – unintentionally, I have to say—cruel” She blushed profusely.

“You’re not cruel! And pointing out your insecurities is not an admirable trait.”

“I agree, but these weren’t even things I was insecure about simply because I wasn’t even truly aware of them, you see? But now that I am aware of these things, I can try to work up the courage to actually do something and focus my powers on that. And I have been inadvertently cruel in my dismissal of other women simply because we have different interests and I will… I will try to listen more carefully. That includes you, Pen.”

Penelope smiled sweetly at her dear friend, reaching to press her hand reassuringly “And you got all that from talking to Cressida?”

“Quite by accident, but yes. You see, she was obviously trying to be hurtful, but it helped me reflect, so the joke’s on her.”

“I do not want to imagine a world where she actually educates her mind”

“She would be bloody unstoppable” Eloise mused.

***

The week that followed was all Lady Featherington had been dreaming of since the day she had presented her daughters to the Queen. She spared no expense to throw the lushest party in her power to celebrate the engagement of her youngest daughter to a Baron.

The Featherington gardens had never looked so full of colour, not even when in full bloom – Portia had chosen to have a garden party since Lord Debling was a naturalist, after all. There were long ribbons adorning the hedges and the canopy over the food was made in multi coloured fabric. Portia had decided against ostrich feathers in long vases only because it had been the only thing Penelope actually protested against. Even the weather had cooperated and had provided a clear sky and fresh breeze that afternoon.

“Why aren’t you happier? It is your party” Phillipa had a look of what Penelope could not believe was concern, even while she took a bite of finger food as she waited for her answer.

“I am happy, only overwhelmed by the attention, I guess. I’m not used to getting so much of it” As she said this, Lord Debling smiled at her from across the garden, where he was talking with Mr. Finch and Mr. Dankworth, who were surely providing much needed advise on dealing with Featherington women.

“But you are always complaining that no attention is paid to you. So what is it? Do you want attention or not? Because you always made sure to withdraw and hide away, just to bellyache next about how no one cares about you” Phillipa said the last part rather dramatically, mockingly.

“I would not have been so keen to distance myself if once in a while a kind word were to be said for my benefit. But you were always mocking me and pointing out everything that was wrong with me.” She responded defensively.

“And you were always putting us down as if we were ignorant dunderheads unworthy of your time. It’s just what sisters do, isn’t it? We had fun teasing each other” She smiled, as if recalling a very fond memory, to Penelope’s shock.

“Fun? It was not fun for me!” She was truly flabbergasted.

“It wasn’t? So you really cared what we said? Why ever would you?” This seemed to be a revelation to Philippa.

“Of course I cared! You are my sisters and are supposed to love me, and if you saw me that way – a ridiculous, ugly person, well, I didn’t want others to see it as well.”

“Good grief, Penelope! Why do you care so much about what others think about you? The only one whose opinion you should care for is your future husband, and not for everything, mind you. I could hardly take anyone in this house seriously, we are such a ridiculous family.”

“What do you mean?” Penelope was truly astounded by her sister’s attitude.

“You see, Mother is always worrying and making a big deal about all sorts of things as if the world were to come crumbling down any second, and father would never even bat an eye about anything, like nothing ever mattered at all. I gathered that things might not be going exceedingly well, but they weren’t terrible either, you know?”

Penelope gave it some thought “So, you thought that making any effort was not worth it because mama would keep on always making it all to be a catastrophe, and papa would not even care one way or another, is that what you mean?”

“Exactly! Why would you care what anyone else thinks, isn’t everyone a bit ridiculous too?”

“That is an interesting perspective, Philippa. But Prudence cares a great deal, too, does she not?”

She shook her head “Prudence only cares what mama thinks, which is why I tease her.” She said this loud enough for Prudence to hear, as she approached them.

“What are you two going on about?” Prudence asked them but was looking out behind them as she waited for an answer.

“Our childhood. Penelope resents us, Prue because we were mean to her” Philippa said with a cattish smile.

“Oh, I’m sorry, were we supposed to coddle the little baby?” Here it came the mockery in full swing.

Philippa held her clasped hands above her chest “We hurt her feelings!”

Prudence cupped her own face with her hands “Oh, no! Poor little baby”

“You two are unbearable!” Penelope motioned to move away but Prudence stopped her.

“Oh, what? will you go running up to your room because you’re a little uncomfortable now?”

“So am I supposed to just stay and stand your abuse?”

Prudence chuckled “Oh, grow up! We are just teasing you, you always over react.”

“So dramatic!” Philippa quickly interjected.

“Let me give you some sisterly advice now that you are to be married -when life puts you in a truly uncomfortable position you won’t be able to just retreat and hope for no one to notice you. It might have served you well to stay out of our little troubles here at home, but once you’re running your own household you won’t be able to just go and stay in your room forever, writing letters and reading books.” Prudence seemed genuine, which for some reason upset Penelope.

“Yes, I tried. It does not work.” Philippa warned, distracting Prudence for a second.

“So, yes, you should stay and maybe fight back a little instead of running away when you feel uncomfortable. You might have fun for once if you choose to engage instead of discarding us immediately.” Penelope was surprised that her elder sister was actually offering her what seemed like honest, heartfelt advise and not just attacking her. Being with child had apparently softened her, she couldn’t decide if she cared for it, but she was now thinking that she might have been unknowingly hurting her sister’s feelings as well.

“I was not discarding you--” She was abruptly interrupted by Philippa who was talking as if Prudence had said nothing.

“Albion’s mother just came and took over the house. It was an utter disaster – She started rearranging the furniture in the drawing room!” Both Prudence and Penelope stared at Philippa “I told you I tried it and it doesn’t work, staying in your bedroom to avoid trouble”

“Are you having trouble with Mr. Finch?” Penelope was genuinely worried, she could not imagine what they would be fighting about, as all this time it seemed Mr. Finch was beyond besotted with her sister and worshipped the ground she walked on.

“He refused to get a poodle for me”

“A Poodle?” She nodded “Philippa that is just a tantrum”

“Well, it didn’t work”

“Naturally!” scoffed Prudence. “Where is mama? I want to show her my new ivory fan, Mr. Dankworth just got it delivered this morning.”

“See?” Philippa tilted her head and gave Penelope a knowing look.

“Can I see it?” Asked Penelope, more to try to prove the point than out of curiosity, but of course Prudence simply kept looking for Portia, ignoring her. Philippa shook her head.

“I told you”

“Hush! There she is.” And Prudence just walked away as succinctly as she had joined them.

Lord Debling had finally been able to excuse himself from her sisters’ husbands and had arrived at her side, just as Prudence had walked away.

“Mrs. Finch, may I steal my bride to be?”

“Of course my lord, I see my Albion needs me anyway” She bowed and went to join her husband

“Were your sisters giving you a hard time?” He said softly, with concern. They had always been on their best behaviour around him, but Penelope had told him how they used to mock her relentlessly, and even when she had said it quite matter-of-factly, he had noticed a tinge of sadness on her voice at the time. Through their courtship he had noticed Penelope rather envied the family life of her friends across the square, for her own had been markedly different.

“No.” She said, perplexed at her own answer “They were actually giving me advice.”

“I am glad to hear it, but you don’t look very convinced”

“It was just a very unusual, sincere conversation that I was not expecting in the least. What were you talking about with Mr. Finch and Mr. Dankworth?”

He smiled, clearly amused at the thought “They were welcoming me into the Featherington family --” It seemed he had more to add but Marina approached them.

“Lord Debling, Penelope, Congratulations!”

“Thank you, Mrs. Bridgerton”

“I hope you can forgive my husband’s absence, he is unwell and regrets not being able to join us in this happy occasion”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Nothing serious, I hope?”

“A terrible headache, my Lord, but nothing proper rest can’t cure, I’m sure. He’s been working terribly hard lately”

“He’s taken up work at the foreign ministry” Clarified Penelope.

“Oh, yes. With Lord Castlereagh, I assume?”

“Not directly, but under his office, yes. They keep him quite busy these days” Marina said with a little bite that might have slipped unintended.

“I’m sure it is only while he proves himself and learns the ropes. He’s just started, after all.” Penelope chimed, it was not clear to Lord Debling if she was offering reassurance to Mrs. Bridgerton or defending Mr. Bridgerton. Marina just smiled tightly.

“I hope your husband recovers soon, Mrs Bridgerton, please give him our well wishes”

“I will.” Marina smiled and playfully raised an eyebrow to Penelope as she caught the our in that sentence. “I must pay my respects to Lady Featheringon, if you’ll excuse me”

They started walking aimlessly, as they talked. “How do you gather that a man would be less busy after he learns the intricacies of a job?”

“Mr. Dankworth has told us how overwhelming it was for him when he started working on his father’s business, and how it took him long hours to get acquainted with everything he needed to do the job, so that he could be truly useful. Knowing Mr. Bridgerton, he must be trying to be useful immediately.”

“And you know him very well?” She didn’t like the slight frown on his face as he said this. The thought crossed her mind to reach out with her hand and smooth the frown away with her fingers, but she contained herself.

“I know him enough to make a guess. As you know I am closely acquainted with his family and he is married to my cousin. I’ve spent quite some time with them and their children.” This seemed to satisfy him, and with the smile back on his lips, he said.

“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?” She lifted her eyes as she blushed, and quickly looked back down. Even now, she still couldn’t get used to receiving compliments and being the object of such a flirtatious look.

“Thank you” She could not think of what to say in response to that, but from the corner of her eye she noticed Eloise was approaching, so she moved to shorten the distance “Eloise!”

“Pen! Lord Debling, how do you do?” She half remembered her manners

“Good evening, Miss Bridgerton. Shall I give you ladies some privacy?”

“That is very thoughtful of you, my Lord” Said Eloise, nodding. “Seen as how you’re taking her away from me forever, this small kindness will not be forgotten”

“Oh, I am not taking her away, Miss Bridgerton, she is coming with me because she wishes to – I asked her -- she will be back with you as often as she desires.”

“I will hold you to it, my Lord” Eloise said with a tentative smile.

“Very well, I’ll leave you to it” He pressed his lips into a thin line and left them on their own.

“You are right. He doesn’t seem that bad.”

“I will give him your compliments” It was truly a compliment coming from Eloise. She must have liked him if she openly admitted he wasn’t that bad.

“I see the whole ton is in attendance, your mother truly went out of her way”

“Not everyone is here, though. Where did you leave your best friend, Cressida Cowper?”

“Oh, that’s... over” Eloise scrunched her face as she shook her head.

“Really? Oh, no that’s so terrible, I’m so surprised” Said Penelope without an iota of surprise or sadness in her voice.

“Spare me the mockery, please” She looked genuinely mortified.

“What happened?”

Eloise sighed and seemed to give it some thought before continuing, wistfully “There was a fundamental misunderstanding between us. She did not really ever try to understand most of what I said and I was not able to help her get a husband or escape her horrible family situation. She was understandably too worried about her future to enjoy my wit which is pretty much all I could offer her.”

“Now I feel bad for joking about it”

“You can send her a sympathy note to Wales, they’re apparently shipping her off there since her father has deemed her unmarriable now that the geezer he was giving her away to has passed of old age. Say how sorry you are you stole your Lord Debling from under her nose. You know, because she’s so tall and you’re so tiny.” She laughed at her own joke as Penelope rolled her eyes. “I tried to convey my regret that I was not able to help her situation, I truly can’t think what I could have done for her.”

“I cannot believe myself, but do you think it would be helpful at all if Lady Whistledown brought attention to the fact that she is being shipped off for the crime of not having had the luck to secure a marriage?”

“Maybe that will shame her parents enough to let her stay.”

“You truly are a very good friend, Eloise”

“Considering I just revealed to you, the most notorious gossip in Mayfair all about her very personal situation, I’m not sure I believe so, but thank you for the sentiment.”

“You know I would not use anything you tell me without your agreement. And I think she should count herself lucky that you worry about her at all. I am sure she does not worry about anyone else’s problems. And precisely because I don’t think she is the only one in such a situation is that I will say something about it.” She nodded, assuringly.

Suddenly Penelope felt like she was being watched. For a moment she thought she had seen a dark tall figure in the shadows behind the rose bushes, but as she searched, she was met with Lord Debling’s mirthful eyes and slightly tilted head. He seemed to be questioning if she was going back to him any time soon. She found this rather charming, for some reason. There it was this man, an extraordinary man, who even when he was surrounded by friends, still seemed to want her company – which in itself was already something – but he’d still rather wait for her to come to him than interrupt a moment of privacy previously granted.

“Go on. I should start getting used to it, I have had all season as practise” Eloise did seem a little hurt, not that she would ever admit it earnestly.

“He’s a patient man, he can wait a little longer.”She said this looking at him, even though she knew he wouldn’t be able to hear her, but he still seem to acknowledge he was being teased.

“Look at you, so sure of yourself! It becomes you, Pen.”

“Tell me about your plans for this summer”

All night was spent with the betrothed couple being mostly apart from each other, talking to different people and stealing joyful, teasing, covetous glances at each other.

And then, in a rare moment chance allowed, where it was the two of them, wearied of the crowd they went to hide behind the rose bushes, where they sat on a bench and laughed at the absurd size of the party and informed each other of the things of note that had been said to them by well wishers. It was there, as they prepared to go back to the crowd where he had kissed her in a way that made her feel like time had stopped.

“We should rejoin the party before our absence is noted” She said

“Do you think they really will?” Penelope laughed, but he was already standing and offering his hand to her.

His eyes danced as he looked at her, a marvelled expression in his face. It was an alien but wonderful feeling for Penelope to feel admired in this manner. She nodded, on instinct, and he pressed his lips unto hers, his hand hovering at the back of her head, as if unsure. The warmth of his tongue softly caressing her bottom lip made her gasp, allowing for his further venturing, his grasp landing firmly at the nape of her head and softly at her back.

When they parted, he found his smiling eyes still fixed on hers. He whispered “That was for teasing me all night”

She smiled. “Was that supposed to be punishment?”

He shook his head “Not at all.”

***

Dear Gentle readers,

As the social season rapidly approaches it’s end, one can’t help but wonder what sad destiny awaits those young women, with all of their accomplishments and refined graces when luck does not bestow their favour upon them, and refuses to grant them the security of a marriage proposal soon enough to satisfy their eager families? It seems sometimes cruelty is found where unconditional affection should be, and this author poses to you one more question: How is a young lady to make herself agreeable to any gentleman, if all she knows from the very bosom of her family is coldness and indifference? These are hardly qualities attractive to, well, anyone with a beating heart.

Season after season, quietly but surely we encounter the sudden disappearance of young women cast away by their families to faraway relatives for the heinous crime of not having gotten a marriage proposal in the time frame imagined by their parents. One could understand if this were the case of an impoverished family who could no longer support the burden of a young lady under their roof, but that cannot possibly be the case for the fair ladies of the ton.

I posit that perhaps the heir making machine would work better if we stopped thinking of it as that, and conferred it the humanity it is actually made of. More success would probably be achieved from a caring and nurturing environment than from the cold setting of deadlines and the pressure to generate attachments out of thin air.

The season is not over yet, and the Cowpers were already notably absent from the elaborate celebration thrown by Lady Featherington on the occasion of her daughter, Miss Penelope Featherington’s upcoming nuptials and it was not due to a lack of invitation.”

Chapter 16

[thewhumpcaretaker]

The Broken Veil: Chapter 6 - The Horde

TW: blood and gore, gunshot wounds, shock

Summary: John Wick has just agreed to kill Gianna D'Antonio, repaying the marker that gave him a life with Helen. However, Helen is trying to contact John from the afterlife, to show him that it is possible to stop the cycle of violence – not by forfeiting his own life, but by creating a fundamental shift in international systems and perhaps even the balance of good and evil in this world. But he doesn’t have to do it alone. She’s coming back.

“It’s a rough journey, and a sad heart to travel it; and we must pass by Gimmerton Kirk to go that journey! We’ve braved its ghosts often together, and dared each other to stand among the graves and ask them to come. But, Heathcliff, if I dare you now, will you venture? If you do, I’ll keep you.” - Catherine Earnshaw, Wuthering Heights

Helen always liked to people watch in New York, on the subway, through coffee shop windows, dancing with strangers to the songs of street buskers. So many characters, ripe for conversations and candid photography. Artists. Students. Performers. Families. Runaways. Petty criminals. And apparently, hitmen.

As they exit the airport, a red light and nothing more holds back the horde behind the white bars of a crosswalk, as sunset flares low and catches in the dark pools of John Wick’s eyes. He stares forward, feet planted, still holding her hand. He squeezes it once and lets go. “I need you to do something for me.”

“What’s that?”

“When we’re walking, stay at a distance. Don’t step in unless I call for you. I know when I’m about to die. If I’m not dying, don’t stand in my line of fire, don’t touch me, don’t do anything that will affect my range of motion. You can block headshots from behind me, but that’s it.”

“Or else I’ll get in your way.”

“I wasn’t going to put it like that, but…Yeah. You’ll get in my way.”

She’s grinning, not remotely offended. “I don’t doubt it. You have yourself a deal, baby.” Then very seriously, “I’m trusting you to call for me."

He nods. She feels his focus shift, shutting out all thought beyond survival.

Come at me, come at me.

He’s electric. The light turns green, and she’s walking at the devil’s side.

They planned the route in the air. He needs to get to someone who will know where to find Santino. That means reaching a subway station on the other side of the city, where they will find a particular contact. “He’ll be talking about ‘Things you see,’ that’s the code phrase,” John told her. It’s a short walk among neon lights and hole-in-the-wall storefronts to the nearest underground entrance. When he told her that, Helen thought it sounded very promising – how many assassins could they possibly encounter in such a brief journey? But he didn’t seem to think so.

As they move through the crowd silently, Helen thinks of the self-defense class she took in college. It’s been many years since then, and she wasn’t top of the class to begin with. She’s unarmed, with no real martial arts experience. So the best she can do is hang back several paces behind him and look wherever he isn’t looking. It makes her paranoid. Is that teenager reaching into his bag about to pull out a gun? No, it’s a notebook. Is that woman staring at John because she’s about to strike, or because he’s breathtaking? Obviously the latter.

The first time it really happens, she doesn’t see it coming at all. A man with the body of a sumo wrestler and a pistol in his hand stops walking at just the right moment to fling an arm out in front of John and knock him expertly to the ground. She’s suddenly hyperaware of the smoggy night wind and the texture of the sidewalk underfoot, her body primed to do something, anything, but that isn’t what he wants so she just stumbles forward, then backward, then freezes. He’s already up and striking back, already has him disarmed, but the man takes damage like a tank. They seem evenly matched for a moment, then everything suddenly escalates. Glass shatters as John is thrown through a bus stop divider. She feels dozens of tiny cuts slash across his face, his back hitting concrete. The retaliation is swift. John grabs the man’s gun and wrestles it against his head, leaving him bleeding out on the ground, a final shot leveling him as he tries to rise.

“Jesus Christ!” They’re in the middle of the sidewalk. There was a silencer, but why is no one stopping, why is no one noticing? Some people have fled, but the police on the far corner just watch quietly. Oh. John’s world owns them too. Great.

He looks back at her, reads her concern, and smiles encouragingly. “I’m okay.” It takes all her restraint to avoid stepping up to him to check his cuts for fragments of glass, but he motions them onwards.

Down an escalator, into the station. The next one, she does see. A woman playing violin for tips follows him with her eyes as they pass, and Helen sees her pull a gun from some concealed place inside it. John is several paces out in front of her and not looking back. Helen steps between them, and the shot hits her own chest. John’s rage and her own surge through her at the same time as he looks over his shoulder and sees them staring each other down.

Then he's rushing her. The woman starts firing, trying to take him down before it’s too late, but hits nothing except Helen and his body armor, and why couldn’t he have stayed back, just stay back… Panic. The woman is kicking him and striking him, and Helen sees before he does that his bulletproof jacket is lifted when he raises his arms, exposing the soft underbelly of the beast where nothing but a paper-thin dress shirt separates his flesh from the bullets. The nose of the gun presses straight into his torso and fires.

 Helen screams, not the high-pitched horror flick scream that one might expect to emit when seeing a lover shot, but an echo of his own yelp of pain, mixed with something impotently enraged. A roar, directed at the woman who just shot her husband. The same cry she sent out helplessly in the void as she watched him fight, unable to come to his aid. And she dragged herself so far, came back to him, but here she is still unable to come to his aid. Why...

The woman is already on the floor, her limbs and neck snapped. John is doubled over, clutching his abdomen, but he doesn’t stop moving.

She follows him as he stumbles against the wall and around a corner, supporting himself against the sleek, glowing glass of the station’s modern architecture. He’s silhouetted on white and leaving long, horrific red smears in his wake. He’s keeping pressure on the wound with one hand at any given time but trying to stem the bleeding is an utterly futile endeavor. Helen steps out in front of him to see red blooming across the fabric and soaking his fingers. He dares to look down at himself. She can feel wooziness pass over him at the sight.

Desperately, “Jonathan. May I please help you walk?”

“No. It’s not over.” He staggers away from the wall, demonstrating that he can support his own weight.

She drops back behind him again, her eyes pricked with tears, walking close enough now to catch him if he falls.

He was right, it’s not over. Someone’s tailing them, keeps looking at John and then back at his phone, presumably texting someone else. Before she realizes what’s happening, they’re closed in between two men, both well dressed, one walking behind them and one in front of the rest area at a coffee bar. John spots the one at the bar and lunges for him. Good, now there’s distance between him and the man behind them, and Helen occupies it.

The man notices her blocking his path and starts shooting. She turns to face him. Behind her, she can hear and feel the scuffle as John’s assailant grabs at the bullet wound to try to inflict as much pain as possible, but he’s only sending more and more adrenaline into John’s system.

She doesn’t really know what to do when she reaches the other hitman. She swings at him in a general way but feels her forearm immediately intercepted, and she’s flung to the ground with his knee over her neck. He’s trying to snap it and unable to figure out why it’s not working. Her face is pressed against grimy subway tile. It’s not clear how she was flipped, or how she could stop it next time. It doesn’t matter. He thinks he’s killing her, and that will keep him distracted from his target.

She looks up at John, just in time to see him grab a pencil from the coffee bar where the man sat writing just a few minutes ago. He plunges it into the man’s hand and then his face, then shoves his head against the table and drives it through. He’s showing off for her.

And then he sees her pinned and he’s done showing off. He yanks the man off her back, slams him to the wall, and stabs the pencil directly through the back of his skull.

For a second, he’s leaning against the wall, the pencil a bloody stump in his hand, then he pulls her up and they’re off again.

They walk. A subway ride, a transfer. Across a crowded fountain square, the moonless, starless city sky gaping black above them, every eye seeming to follow them. He’s tired and scared. He’s lost so much blood. God, she wants to hold him.

Waiting at the next platform, they’re attacked again. In the empty corridor of wind between two passing trains, he shoots one man and knifes the other, first with a shocking spray of red from the thigh and then on the tile, wrestling with him, pressing fiercely down into his chest and then collapsing on top of him for a moment. She almost reaches for him, but he manages to stand, and they board the train in silence.

She faces him, each of them holding onto the bar above them, pressed in among strangers, and stares into his eyes. Her free hand hovers at his torso, almost touching the blood but holding back in respect of his request – “don’t touch me.” His jaw is clenched, trying not to express the pain to her. Now that he doesn’t have a fight to focus on, there’s something icy and empty surfacing. He’s going into shock.

He realizes something. “Can you feel my body too? All the time? Or just emotions?”

This is a bad time for this conversation. “…Not all the time, just when it’s significant enough. And I’m not hurt. It’s not like that. It’s secondhand.”

He groans wordlessly, overtaken by a wave of guilt that mingles with the shock to make everything fuzzy. He’s shuddering. It’s suddenly so cold and there’s so little blood in his head…The more he fights against it in an effort to save Helen from this feeling, the more his anxiety spikes dizzyingly. He wants to lay down somewhere soft and just die.

“Hey. It’s not a bad thing. You felt me, remember? When we were… So, yes, I do have an awareness of it. But it’s like I told you then, I want all of you. Even the pain. It’s okay.”

Any affection at a moment like this is overwhelming. He’s lost in her acceptance, awed, humbled, just trying not to cry. He lets his awareness of his body recede, his legs go numb. There is no subway around them. There’s only her…and a misty void. He can see it again. He’s close to the other side, and she bridges a gap through which he can see…something.

The subway stops. He still can’t feel his legs.

His voice comes to her soft and strangled, but very controlled. “Helen…Help me.”

Finally. She weaves her arm through his, clasps their hands together, and takes his weight as they move carefully over the gap between the doors and the platform, towards the turnstiles.

But it’s difficult to make out their surroundings. As his precarious condition drags them closer to the veil, things bleed through, the otherworld blurring on top of life. And all around them, there are presences. They aren’t so close to the surface. They don’t have the determination she had. But there’s an opening, and they draw as near as they can, fixed on him. John’s knuckles are white and clammy between her fingers.

Is that a ticket machine, or just a shadow, an absence?

Is that a hitman disguised as a janitor pulling a gun, or is it Viggo’s soul?

Is that the crowd of the night shift commuters, or is it the horde that has already tried and failed to kill the Baba Yaga?

Either way, they are hunted.

Adrenaline hits again and the void recedes. There is a janitor pulling a gun – in fact, there are two. She and John are running, hand in hand.

She’s keeping him upright, following his lead, and he loses their assailants long enough to round a corner into a particularly dingy stretch of the thoroughfare, where a panhandler’s babbling echoes across the concrete and iron. He leans against a metal divider, his possessions heaped up next to him, no different from the down-on-their-luck people to be found in every subway station of every city in the world. But she recognizes the code phrase. “Things you see, things you see at night, man…” He’s saying it over and over. She staggers towards him as a beacon of safety, taking John with her.

He still has enough strength to let a gold coin fall into in the man’s cup. The babbling goes silent, and he’s looking up at them. For a second, Helen is afraid they have the wrong person, or that John is going to pass out before he’s able to explain what they need. Finally, he grunts, “Take us to him. Tell him it’s John Wick…and his wife.”

Then he drops to the ground next to that heaped up pile of belongings, and drags one of the blankets over himself. Helen knows it’s purely to hide his body from view, but the sheer vulnerability of the gesture sends her reeling with protectiveness. Clearly, he needed it. He is so grateful to be laying down, to have something shielding his body from the air that feels so inexplicably frigid. It will not do at all for him to be face down on the cold floor. She kneels beside him, pulling his head into her lap, and drags a second blanket over them both. It creates a warm pocket of dulled sound, filled up with his shallow breathing. He shivers against her as shock claims him completely. In darkness, in that hidden fragment of safety, she bends forward, wrapping his whole head in her bulletproof body, enveloping him in a comforting shield. Is that the haunted otherworld around them, or the bustle of the living? It makes no difference. She will defend him either way.