#In spite of my wife trying to kill our son and the heir to the duchy

[tarrarre]

I won my first campaign hehe :3 I own most of the Kingdom of England now :3

[spidernerdsblog]

Match made in Hell : Prologue

A/N : Well this series will be hella angsty. Hope you like this. Feedbacks and suggestions are always welcome.

Pairing : Mob! Tom Holland x Reader

Summary : you always wanted a simple life but to be born as the daughter of a dangerous mobster turned out to be a curse for you. Everything changes when your father gets your lover killed and forcefully marries you off to another mobster as a part of a deal. You hate your father and your husband the only thing you seek is now revenge. Will you ever be able to fall in love again or this burning hatred inside you will consume you?

Warnings : 18+,mentions of blood, murder, death, misogyny, implied sexual theme.

SERIES MASTERLIST

It’s the middle of the night as you sneak out from the backside of the dingy motel you and Ethan chose to hide for two days before catching a bus to Virginia. You were headed to the NY port bus terminus as you cautiously walked through the dimly lit alleyway. Both of you carrying a duffel bag in your hand as you briskly walk down to the main street.

"Ethan come on'' you whisper yell looking back to your boyfriend who was walking right behind you with whom you have planned to elope and start a new life away from your father's clutches who happens to be the mafia king of Northeast United States and wants to forcefully marry you off to another mobster of Europe to expand his territory and grab hold on their turf.

"Y/N are you sure your dad will not find us trying to flee right under his nose?" Ethan asks nervously. You smile softly as you put down your bag. Your hands reach up to his face cupping it gently.

"Don't you worry honey. I have a friend over there who has made all the necessary arrangements. In a few hours we will be in our paradise far from all of this. Just you and me, baby."

"But what if your dad already knows about us and sent his men to kill me."

"By the time daddy will come to know about us running away he will have nothing to do. He has no power in the southern states so we will be safe." You press your forehead on to his before stepping away from him and are about to turn around to resume walking but then the inevitable happens.

BANG! a gunshot was fired from a near distance.

You flinched at the deafening sound and felt something graze past you as some viscous liquid splattered on your face. You run your hand through your face to find blood stains and look at Ethan with horror in your eyes, a bullet has punched it's way right through his chest causing a hole in its wake as blood oozed out, his white shirt slowly turning scarlet red.

"Ethan!! oh my god!!" you gasped and rushed to him. Ethan felt dizzy, his vision going blurry as his body began to collapse. You quickly hold on to his weight slowly crouching down to kneel on the pavement placing his head on your lap.

"No! No! No, This can't happen!" You didn’t know what to do as you franctically pressed your hands together on the wound on his chest trying to stop the bleeding, tears running down your cheeks.

"Mija" your throat went dry at the deep voice. You turned your head to find your father standing all tall and powerful, face expressionless with his hands stuffed inside his pockets and right by his side is your step brother Julian. In no time his hunch men surrounded the area.

"Daddy he's dying do something please." you sobbed.

"You shouldn't have tried to run away Mija or else poor Ethan would have been alive to see tomorrow's daylight."

"C'mon now get up." He reached out his hand to you.

"What? No! Daddy please help him. He'll die. I'll do whatever you say, marry whoever you want but please save him." You begged him as fat tears rolled down your cheeks.

"It's too late for that Mija. You should have known well that after your engagement you are just a safe-keeping of the Holland's for us. Son-in-law is really upset with your behavior. He is the one who helped us track you down."

"Jules at least you try to understand." You turned to your step brother in despair.

"Enough sister we have to go, we don't want the whole NYPD chasing us for a petty collateral damage." he says sternly.

"You already are a big disgrace to the family. Thankfully my step brother-in-law is very generous to accept you even after all this."

"No I'm not going with you anywhere, either you shoot me like him or else I'll do it myself." You scrambled up back on your feet and with a swift move snatched the gun from the holster of one of his men standing near you. You pointed the gun to  your head holding onto the trigger.

"Y/N Martinez enough is enough! Drop the gun now!" your father commands agitated.

"No!" you shakily press the trigger a little more as tears pricked your eyes.

"You'll not do that Y/N." your father warns again.

"Oh hell I'll do if I don't get to live with the love of my life then you will not get what you want." you spat trembling in rage.

"Y/N no.. No" Ethan croaked in pain, the angry demeanor you had softened at his voice.

"Ethan, honey.. " you dropped to your feet kneeling beside his weak body.

"if you die then I die too." You sniffled. Ethan threaded his fingers to yours.

"No, Y/N you - you have to live. For me. Promise me."

"No" you whimper.

"Promise me Y/N, this-this is my last wish" He took large gulps of air while he spoke. You screwed your eyes shut feeling helpless at the given moment.

"I-I promise Ethan." Your voice quivered.

"I love you Y/N.." he smiled weakly as his voice trailed off as it was becoming difficult for him to breathe.

"I love you too baby." You sniffled. Ethan's eyes were droopy as he struggled to stay awake. He was barely breathing.

"No, no Ethan, stay with me please." you clutched onto his hand desperately. He swallowed his last breath of air before succumbing to eternal sleep in your arms.

"Ethan?" you shake his lifeless body. "Ethan wake up!!" all was in vain as Ethan's limp body lay on the pavement.

"Ethaaan!!!" you wail.

"Take care of the body. I need to handle my ever rebellious daughter." your father ordered.

"Okay boss." one of his capos obliged.

"Now c'mon and let's get you prepared for your husband." your father grabbed on to your arm.

"No,no,no" you try to grasp onto Ethan's lifeless body. Your father ripped you apart from his body forcing you to stand up on your feet.

"It's your last week with us anyway, spend some time with your mother, make some happy memories, she will miss her only daughter the most."

"Happy memories?! You took every ounce of happiness from my life, you are a monster! You all are! I hate you!" you screamed struggling hard to free yourself from your father's firm grip.

"One day you'll know everything your daddy did was for your own good. So stop fighting and do as you are told like a good girl" Your father and brother Julian dragged you to the car. You were a walking dead when you reached your home which seemed a prison to you now. Your mother came rushing to you.

"Oh sweetie you're safe. Thank god I was so worried." she wrapped her arms around you in a hug.

"Mom.. Ethan.. He's gone." You broke down in her arms.

"It's ok sweetie. Don't worry everything will be fine. You are my strong girl I know you will get through this" she cradled your face pecking your forehead trying to console you.

"Ask your daughter to stop acting like a brat and learn how to be a good wife to her future husband and tend to his needs. Don't want the Holland's point fingers at us saying we didn't raise our daughter right."

"Why did you do this Victor?"

"After so many years are you questioning your husband Rosette?"

"No, I'm questioning a father and how could he do this to his only daughter?"

"She brought it upon herself." your mother was about to say something but was cut off by your father.

"No! I don't want to hear anything more about this. Just do what I said." he says sternly.

******

"The Martínez's will arrive in a week, start making all the necessary arrangements."

"Once the deal is done you will be taking over our family business son are you ready to sit on this throne?" The senior Holland asks his eldest son Tom in the presence of his younger twin sons Harry and Sam and Tom’s future consigliere and best friend Harrison as he stood in the middle of the spacious conference room patting on the big leather chair placed right in the middle of the wooden round table from where he has been running this empire all these years commanding men to do all his dirty work and sealing fate of people who didn’t comply by his wishes.

"Always ready dad." Tom stood tall.

"I know you are, my son. This is the day I have been waiting for all my life."

"Okay now enjoy your last few days of freedom of a bachelor before you are a married man." he pats his shoulder proudly and was about to leave the room but turned to him again.

"One more thing you need to keep a tighter hold on your woman from now on Tom. Her carefree days are over, she needs to be made aware of her responsibilities including giving the family an heir."

"Yes dad."

As his father leaves with the twins Tom slumps down on one of the chairs with Harrison beside him. He lets out a long sigh taking out his phone.

The first thing he does is open your Instagram page and go through your pictures which has turned out to be a habit for him for the last three years. Harrison was sitting beside him as he saw your pictures too. Some were with your college friends, some you attending one of your dad's galas in the prettiest designer dresses and some bikini clad sunkissed aesthetic pictures of you on vacation on some exotic island. Tom thought you looked unearthly in every picture but his mood would go sour seeing the comments below of several guys objectifying your body. He felt like hunting them down and chopping off their fingers with which they typed such lewd comments.

Though he himself wasn’t a man of high morals either drinking, gambling, bringing in girls every night in spite of being engaged to you though each night he wished it was you on his bed, not some random hooker he picked up from the bar. He is well aware that you don’t like him and despise this whole marriage. But he has nothing to worry anymore now because in a few days you are going to be his for lifetime. And he is confident that he will win you over eventually.

"I see why you are hell bent to marry her, she's a siren." Harrison remarked snarkly, breaking Tom from his thoughts.

"Hopefully she sounds like one too" Tom chuckles.

"But you really want to spend the rest of your life with her? She doesn't seem to be the one to follow rules."

"She's always been a wild horse since childhood that is why I like her even more and trust me wild horses are more fun to tame Haz. I can assure you in no time she'll be roaming around like a puppy around me."

"And how do you know you'll be able to tame a headstrong girl like her?"

"That will not be an issue because once I make sure that my child is inside her she will have nothing to do." He smirks. "Motherly instincts, you know how that works. After all, she's a woman. How much ever she hates me she will never separate her child from his father."

"And once I will have her father removed from the picture and taken over their empire she will have nowhere to go."

"You know she'll hate you more than she already does after you kill her father."

"Her father is no less than a monster. I will be doing her a favor actually." Tom once again glances at a portrait picture of you.

"Princess your kingdom eagerly awaits your arrival." he mutters to himself with a smug grin on his face.

.................................................................................

Taglist in bio or just send an ask or dm I’ll add you

[chibivesicle]

Golden Kamuy - Kikuta deserved better - 273-276

As I catch up on things, I’m gonna hit the highlights that really stuck with me.  Ogata is able to escape from Vasily using the tactics he observed from the showdown in Barato with Hijikata cutting through random row houses.  He’s seriously gotten into Vasily’s head as he hesitated to snipe aggressively after killing the wrong guy with Ogata’s cloak.

The only worthwhile thing from this continued and seriously a no longer interesting plot point, is getting to see Ogata wiggle under a fence like a cat.

So, I approve of this at least.  My own cat scores this as an 8/10 in cat wiggling.  Minus 2 points for not enough emotion from Ogata’s face.

Thankfully, Asirpa was able to escape with Sofia after Tsukishima gunned down Ariko.  It seemed to me that Koito froze/hesitated during that situation.  Tsukishima had no problem brutally shooting Ariko at point blank while Koito literally just hung back and watched. 

Asirpa is in a state of extreme shock. She just interrogated by Tsurumi to give up the code, watched Ariko be shot and now sees Boutarou’s corpse in the bottle-mobile.  Our girl needs years of therapy - she’s reaching the same level as our male cast members at this rate.

At least she breaks down in tears as Sugimoto tries to console her.  The artwork for this part of the page is excellent, it really does capture the melting of her mind and how she’s realizing how deadly the gold is.

It ties directly back to her argument with Kikuta before all this shit went down.  I’m always giving Sugimoto crap for being a moron, but it seems that he did make the right action by reaching out to allow her to hug his arm.  There is that soft look as he gazes down at her and just lets her be emotional.  It is clear that his presence is a comfort to her as she takes her time before returning to a more lucid mental state.  This is shown by how she opens her eyes and looks up before declaring that they need to meet up with Hijikata since she’s figured out how to crack the code.

Meanwhile, Kikuta rushed Ariko to a clinic to save his life.  Being the father figure/older brother he is, he tells him that it isn’t his time to die; he never made that makiri yet! And to my relief, Ariko wakes up!  Noda didn’t go for the lazy writing of killing of the minor Ainu character, something I was afraid of.

If his father saved him, it means his makiri was where he was shot in the chest under his uniform.  There is a lovely transition about a makiri in a fictional museum that was made by him, implying that he returned home and did make the makiri and likely resolved some of his identity issues, though it was still likely a tough life for him.  Ariko apologies for not being able to work as a spy for Central and really it isn’t like he’d be able to do so anyways.  But he did verbally point out he’s now politically on the side of someone like Asirpa to fight for their culture and right to exist in spite of colonial powers. The middle panel of Kikuta bidding him farewell just gives me the feels.  It is so clear that Kikuta knows he’s toast.  He saw Tsukishima shoot Ariko and Tsukishima likely watched him as he tried to save the man.

The fact that he said a casual line about going to an onsen.  Ugh, death flag for sure right there.  It seems Ariko knows that as he looks forlorn.  Kikuta is that sort of suave man who is going to look cool even though he’s doomed; he’s that awesome.

The action returns to Tsurumi at the church having solved the code.  With Tsukishima gone off to try to kill Ariko, Koito has remained behind.  All of a sudden Koito reverts to his extreme Satsuma accent when addressing Tsurumi in the absence of Tsukishima.  I think he didn’t even realize it at first, just like how after they escaped the fight with Boutarou, Koito spoke normally to Tsurumi without realizing it.

It is clear it took him a moment to realize he was speaking ‘Koito’ as Tsurumi is unable to respond to him and he then panics.  Koito is more than willing to chase after Tsukishima and support him, but Tsurumi instead recalls him.

At first he consoles himself that everything is okay. 

He is trying very hard to convince himself that everything that they witnessed through the keyhole was all an act to get the key!  Yes, it isn’t that Tsurumi doesn’t have some sort of awesome goal and this isn’t about how the death of his wife and daughter left him unhinged!

But the other random members of the 27th then comment on how strongly Nikaido reeks of beer . . . and Koito then thinks about how he and Tsukishima were hiding in the room at the church when Tsurumi ‘checked’ that he was alone.  And then it hits him - they were also played as a part of the ‘Tsurumi theatre’.  Unlike Tsukishima who has whole-heartily given himself over to Tsurumi, it is clear that Koito can’t.

That monologue sounded too good to be true.  He weakly says Tsukishima’s name into the rain as he then thinks ‘No . . .’  The rain is really fitting in this scene, I think it really is a stand in for Koito’s own disappointment and tears in this entire crazy quest for the gold.  Is he worried about his ‘older’ brother figure?  Himself?  Both of them?

He continues to try to rationalize the performance that Tsurumi gave them - even if Tsurumi lied to them, it wasn’t all a lie.  Oh Koito.  I want to give you a hug and pull you away as your little bon-bon-ness has won me over.  Most of that speech wasn’t for Koito, it was for Tsukishima.  Speaking about helping Japan is what Koito would like to hear but we can tell he doubts that as well.  Hence, his waffling.

But then he realizes that as Tsukishima has given so much - all of Tsurumi’s words, even if they were ‘sweet lies’ as he he referred to them on Karafuto, it was just perfect for Tsukishima.  However, Koito has broken the spell that Tsurumi held over him.  The final page of the chapter of Koito looking at the illuminated Tsurumi and shutting the door on him.  It is the exact opposite of when Tsurumi rescued Koito from the kidnappers when in his youth. I now find myself wondering how this relates to the tiger curse.  It is clear that the curse for Tsukishima will not end well.  After he shot Ariko, his eyes regained their sparkle!  Not good, not good at all!  However, have I misinterpreted it for Koito that by becoming disillusioned with Tsurumi he will be cursed to be miserable through him gaining independence from his hero worship of Tsurumi?  The idea that ignorance is bliss, and now Koito is well in the know.  The fact that when he and Tsukishima were sort of on the same page was when he could speak to Tsurumi but now that he’s on a different path from Tsukishima he’s tripped up again.

Chapter 274 finally allows Asirpa to determine the fake skins after what she witnessed with Boutarou in the brewery and thinking about Ainu garments that she figured out that Edogai likely went above and beyond with his fakes.  Thanks money counterfeiting guy from the fake Ainu village for the inspiration.  It is a lot of pages that tie together other plot points nicely but really doesn’t do anything for me as a reader personally.

The most important point is that as Sugimoto falls asleep while Asirpa and Hijikata work with the skins is that we get another flashback - one that links him to Kikuta!

and even more importantly - Hanazawa Yuusaku!  Chapter 275 starts out with an homage to the classic movie ‘Singing in the Rain’.  As soon as I saw Sugimoto spinning on a lamp post, it was obvious.  Yes, small town boy in the big city - causing trouble.  He gets in some sort of brawl with random guys from the army and is ‘rescued’ by Kikuta, who immediately realizes that he’s hungry and decides to treat him to some lunch.

It shows that Sugimoto has a short fuse and is an impulsive youngster.  Really, he is lucky that he didn’t do more stupid shit to get him in trouble.  We can also clearly see that Kikuta is a member of the 1st Division, the Tokyo based one that Sugimoto eventually enlists with.

Kikuta decides that he wants Sugimoto to impersonate Hanazawa Yuusaku and to go on a marriage interview for him.  This is because Hanazawa Hiro, the now identified wife of Hanazawa, is pulling the strings in the background to prevent Yuusaku from becoming a flag bearer.

This then makes us wonder why these two parents have such contrasting expectations for their only son.  It makes me think back to my theory that Yuusaku was a pretty poor solider and lacked any skill or potential.  Long ago, Tsurumi told Nikaido that Ogata is the ‘true heir’ of Hanazawa inheriting his military and [some] leadership skills as he stood on the watch tower in Barato ordering the random gangsters how to fight effectively.  Yuusaku is a disappointment for Hanazawa - he can only save face by having his son become such a symbolic part of the army.

I laughed at the next page where Kikuta confirms that Hiro is colluding with the young heiress to steal Yuusaku’s virginity and thus preventing him from becoming a flag bearer.  I love the posture of the terrified Yuusaku!

However, Hiro’s plan has been found out by Hanazawa and he consulted with the leader of the 1st Division to assist him with resolving this unpatriotic and embarrassing issue.  Recall that Ogata was born as a result of Hanazawa being posted to Tokyo - this implies that he likely became good friends with the leader of the 1st Division during this time.

To prevent anyone from identifying Sugimoto, he’s the perfect substitute for Yuusaku and changes into Kikuta’s uniform.  He’s one of those guys who just has that look.  Sugimoto immediately thinks that since he’s been treated well by Kikuta, joining the military might be a good way to find security - in food.  However, we get a link of the cap to Kikuta and what appears to be his dying younger brother.

Kikuta looks so sad, like there is something unfortunate with Sugimoto’s statement of food.  We don’t get to see his expression, indicating he’s likely hiding his emotions from Sugimoto and instead tells Sugimoto he’s going to have to train him in food etiquette.

He’s presented with some Western cuisine, something that may blow his cover and something that Kikuta didn’t expect as he watches from a tree outside.  But again, due to his extreme luck, he’s able to use nervousness as an excuse and it gives him time to state his family his super traditional so they wouldn’t have eaten food like this.  When he’s removed the cap, Kaneko Kaeko is smitten with his handsome face. He can use his excuse as a way to have an out for not knowing how to eat that tasty ebi fry (why to I hear ‘ebi fry’ in Nyanko-sensei’s voice?).

As she explains the fancy places she’s dined at, Sugimoto thinks about how he was living off of cat food.  Cue another reason why he just hates on Ogata, since he was stealing food from Ogata’s people! 

The rest of the dinner goes well, and Kikuta checks in with him.  Meanwhile, our wealthy heiress is completely smitten with him!

As Sugimoto mulls over the idea of a somewhat arranged marriage as a negative he spills the beans about Toraji and Umeko.  And Kikuta isn’t having any of his bullshit.  I love how Kikuta points out how selfish and downright stupid Sugimoto is being in all of this.  Kikuta gives Sugimoto good advice - which he’s clearly still never followed.

He makes it clear that he’s got to give up on that hometown and move on.  Which will be completely ignored as Toraji will end up in the 1st Division with Sugimoto in the trenches.  I’m now wondering how Toraji and Sugimoto reconnected.  Hrrrmmmmm?  Is this something that Sugimoto encouraged and that’s why he has all of these unresolved emotions about Toraji’s death in the war?

The chapter reveals to us that Tsukishima’s love ended up marrying the cousin of Kaeko, making Tsukishima’s acceptance of her ‘death’ even more heartbreaking as he thought that Tsurumi had lied to him about her fate.  [weeps bitterly]. 

As Kikuta and Sugimoto discuss what appears to be Yuusaku’s lack of a free will, he’s told not to meddle in others concerns.  What does Sugimoto do? The man just can’t keep to himself and he goes and finds Yuusaku to confront him.  He wants to know if Yuusaku wants to be a flag bearer even though it is a death sentence.  How does that conversation go? Just how we’d expect with all of the information we know about Yuusaku.

I love how he’s like it isn’t to meet my father’s expectations!  It is because understand my father’s convictions and fight for my country.  Okay, you keep telling yourself that Yuusaku, but it still sounds like you are doing this for your father, you know tomay-to, tomah-to.  Sugimoto mulls over what Yuusaku would choose if given the choice.  I just sigh as we know enough about Yuusaku’s backstory that the man only does what his father says - with great conviction. All of our Ogata flashbacks have made this so clear, Yuusaku is a doomed man from the moment he entered the army.  Maybe even a doomed man from his birth even.  Perhaps, he’s acutely aware of this, but based on how freakkin’ awkward he’s with Ogata and his older brother actions, I continue to think he’s not the brightest bulb in the pack and can only be used as a patriotic pawn.

Yuusaku then becomes suspicious of Sugimoto’s line of inquiry and realizes that he’s got Kikuta’s cap.

Not sure how to respond, he runs away and we learn that Kikuta’s younger brother died of illness during the first Sino-Japanese war.   That same war that killed Koito’s older brother and that Tsurumi and Tsukishima fought in as well. With the statement of illness, I know what most likely killed Kikuta’s younger brother - malnutrition - specifically beri beri.  As the Japanese military rapidly modernized using European models, they ran into an issue with many soldiers and sailors dying of some sort of mysterious illness and it wasn’t something that impacted the Westerners at all.  Most of this has to do with the ability to eat white rice which was much more processed.  It made it more expensive, but was nutritionally bad for men who came from lower incomes or poverty.  Remember how stoked Asirpa was when she ate white rice all the way back at the herring fishery?  If anyone has read “House of Five Leaves” by Natsume Ono, you’d know the protagonist is a poor ronin and he falls ill due to beri beri.  The solution was to return to the countryside/hometown to eat a more diverse diet.  For a more detailed explanation of how bad this was for the Japanese military check out the video by Linfamy on youtube here.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IzIBpFDRr5g

The video even highlights the fierce (and counterproductive) competition between the Army and Navy which has already been well defined through Koito’s backstory. The chapter ends with Sugimoto dropping the cap and the polite man who picks it up for him is Tsurumi with Ogata, Usami and Tsukishima in Tokyo. The plot thickens . . . somehow Sugimoto got mixed up in the business of the 27th and apparently Tokyo isn’t a vast city that you can get lost in and everyone knows everyone.  Like how I was on flight to Saskatoon and the man next to me started up a conversation how he was from Burlington and went to Guelph and my friend who I was going to visit was also from Burlington and went to Guelph it is a small world kinda moment and in agriculture.  I digress though.  Things are starting to pull back together but I’m still not 100% on with this plot direction/story arc.

[orsuliya]

Since you do such detailed asks and give a well thought out answers, I want to know your opinion on the Ma brothers. Zilong, Zilu and Zitan. What do you think about them?

Ah, our three intrepid Ma princes... Wait a minute, why three? It's not like we're in a fairytale and while Zitan is certainly a fool, he's not nearly good-hearted enough to play the role of Ivan the Fool.

But seriously, it seems mightily suspicious of Daddy Emperor to sire three sons in quick succession and then, as far as we know, never ever procreate again. He's an Emperor and obviously fertile, so how come the imperial nursery remains so glaringly empty? Could it be that he has no concubines at all except for his beloved Xie Guifei?

Or... has the Empress been aborting babies left and right, and poisoning her way through swathes of women to boot? Not impossible, knowing her temperament, but it doesn't really make sense within the dynamic presented in the drama. Drama!Emperor hates, hates, hates the Wangs and especially his wife, so it's hard to believe he wouldn't have used this juicy tidbit to weaken their influence. In the book Wanru is allowed to run roughshod over Potato's concubines and feed them contraceptives willy-nilly, but that's because Potato doesn't really care. The Emperor, as we see him in the drama, would have found reason enough to care upon being given such an obvious opening to start a smear campaign against his favourite enemy. Stymying the imperial bloodline?! Why, I think it might be a crime and easily provable one at that!

This leaves the other option - perhaps there aren't any concubines in the palace or, if there are, they're not being, pardon my French, bred. It's not that multiple imperial concubines of lower rank aren't a thing in this universe - Potato gets at least two and possibly more after sitting on the throne for a relatively short time. It's a pity we don't know what's the policy on entering the palace. Is there a multi-stage selection process? There is certainly no indication of that! Xie Guifei might have been an attempt to balance out a Wang Empress, Seagull was Zitan's impromptu choice, Miss Screecher was meant to be chosen by Potato outside of any organized selection and the same could be true for Potato's other concubines. Our only outlier might be Zilu's Mom and even then it's rather doubtful she was ever processed properly as it would have required a lot of effort and luck to conceal an already existing pregnancy. No, Zilu's Mom was most probably a gift of 'peace' from one brother to another.

My guess as to what Daddy Emperor is thinking? If Zitan has been his preferred heir from the start and he very well might have been since it never had anything to do with Zitan's actual qualities, then it's possible that he simply didn't protest - or did so in a purely symbolic manner - when the Wangs started limiting his reproductive chances. Why breed competition? We already know he has no use for any sons lacking powerful backing of their maternal clans, see: his treatment of Zilu. And any son with such backing would be a direct threat to his favourite, not to mention a potential upset to the carefully maitained Wang-Ma-Xie balance.

...or it could be that Daddy Emperor really loved Xie Guifei and wanted no other. Seeing as he's strongly implied to spend his nights in her chambers twenty years after their only and last kid was born, this would make a staggering amount of sense. The same principle applies - he'd still not protest Wang tyranny over the inner courts, only he'd do it for Xie Guifei and not for Zitan. It does seem to fit with Daddy Emperor's general mindset. Let the others do open battle and exert all that effort, he'll just sit there, look sage and reap the benefits!

After this rather senseless and overly long prelude, let's finally get to answering your question. Mind you, those are not going to be organized, thoughtful opinions, just my subjective impressions on each and every Ma Prince.

His Imperial Spudness Ma Zilong

The not-so-little Potato that could not, but still tried! Let's start with the elephant in the room, namely his rapist tendencies or the lack thereof. See, I'm convinced that raping Awu wasn't actually in the cards, at least as far as Potato was concerned. Compromising her, sure, just lure her into an emptied palace and cry wolf. Outright raping her, no, if only because Potato is way, way too weak and soft to execute a plan this ruthless in its entirety. Besides, harming Awu to this extent would be risky as all hell and sure to provoke authentic wrath in both Daddy Emperor and Daddy Wang. The Empress is not stupid enough to give her husband the perfect excuse to do away with her son nor to alienate her main supporter in the same move. Even if she was able to force a marriage in the first place, Potato would be pretty much done for politically unless both Daddies suddenly dropped dead. The most she would be able to get would be a grandson in a privileged position, so she'd be back to square one, only with one more female to share power with. No, what Potato did and what Wanru suffered was mostly courtesy of Zilu's suspicious drugs. Not to say Potato isn't a rapist all the same, but I'd argue for diminished capacity.

As for Potato himself in his shining spuddy glory, I truly pity the man. From time to time we see glimpses of the ruler he could have become and whom he still tries to be, and it becomes clear that there was something there worth cultivating. The problem is that nobody could be bothered to even try. Daddy Emperor certainly didn't, leaving Potato pretty much to his own devices and believe me, it had nothing to do with his talents or the lack thereof. Do you remember that lovely family scene at the beginning of episode 1.? You know, the one where Awu, Zilu and Zitan lure Zilong into a trap and then leave him there to lie amidst icy rocks in the middle of winter? He could have easily hit his head and died right then and there. Or get pneumonia and die a little bit later. Does the Emperor care? No, not at all! Baby!Awu isn't that good of a liar, but even if she was, perhaps it would behoove him to actually investigate. Not from any kind of fatherly feeling, let's not expect miracles, but perhaps from political expediency? Yeah, no. And I doubt that was the only incident of this kind. Potato must have known even this early on that his father doesn't care for him, not even like an Emperor should for his eldest male scion. Moreover, there is no way Mommy Dearest wouldn't harp on about the Emperor's negligence in private, further affirming this awful truth in Potato's mind.

Mommy Dearest might care, but her care is no less toxic than Daddy Emperor's open negligence. Potato is her key to power, her only way to win the game of thrones and make all her sacrifices worthwhile... and this is exactly how she treats him. Oh, she loves him well enough as her son, clings to him in his role as Crown Prince and then Emperor, but she doesn't actually like him as a person. And oh boy, does it show! I get it, he's not this perfect shining prince that would justify her long years of suffering, but then I have this feeling she gave up on him the moment he showed himself to be perfectly average. Sure, she offers him (toxic) love and (conditional) support like nobody's business, but there's always this nasty undertone in their relationship. Mommy knows best, don't even try to think on your own, listen to me and only me. It's no wonder that Potato thinks he's perfectly useless and doesn't bother to try and better himself, if he knows that even his own mother sees him as a perfect nincompoop. Uncle Wang's open derision isn't helpful either!

And yet Potato is, deep down, a decent enough man. Better than the average Ma, I'd say. I mean, he has some scruples! They might be really, really tiny, but they're there, even as he's being subjected to a barrage of mental attacks from both his mother and his wife. Why, given proper support and a competent cabinet, he'd make a somewhat ineffective, but decent enough ruler, his handling of the flood crisis shows us this much. Potato's best quality is that he really tries. Oh, he fails, but he's no Zitan, content to sit in his room and mope while the country goes to hell. When it's important, he can make actual decisions! Which he may then go back on (or not), but it still counts. Also, he's not petty. Like, at all. He'd like nothing better than for everybody to get along and have lots and lots of plump babies. Even his decision to do away with Xiao Qi is not motivated by jealousy, no matter how hard Wanru and Mommy Dearest keep pressing on that particular button.

Is he childish? Yes. But then, he's never been given any real responsibility and for years and years languished under the care of a helicopter parent who never forced him to man up nor face actual reality, hence his disillusionment with Wanru, once she stops being this perfect smiling automaton. Is he selfish? Oh yes and it shows nowhere better than in his last will. But even so, such selfishness is pretty much par for the course when it comes to the Mas and at least Potato didn't wreck a country for the sake of personal spite, which puts him way ahead of his father, uncle Jianning and bro Zitan. And perhaps even cousin Zilu, who cared less for the country than for Huanmi.

At the end of the day, our humble root vegetable is a tragic figure. I can't help but pity him every time we see him bloom under somebody's attention. Give that man some respect and he'll pay you back with the same, weird comments about killing you nothwithstanding. And he did give us Miracle Baby, Our Lord and Saviour!

Our beloved Groomzilla, Ma Zilu

Daddy Emperor must have been stupid, high, blind or all of those in order to let Zilu and his beautiful brain slip through his fingers. He was right there, that defenseless, motherless boy and ripe for the taking too! If after years and years of being neglected and treated as an afterthought, after suffering an obvious slight of losing his love on Daddy Wang's say-so, after being allowed to supposedly run wild with no attempt at parental intervention... If after all this Zilu still craved his father's approval in whatever form he could get it, craved it so much that he allowed himself to be led into an obvious trap, then what kind of loyalty might he have offered, had somebody bothered to nurture him properly?

And it's not like his talents were easy to sweep under the rug. It's not until after he's an adult that Zilu takes up the pretense of being a never-do-well; during his adolescence he was still giving it his all, hoping in vain that his father might notice and offer him some sweet, sweet parental validation. Alas. The lack of powerful backing from his maternal family is an obstacle, but not if one actively tries to fight against consort kin clans and their influence. Or is it only the Wangs who are the enemy? Must be so, otherwise why the hell would one not see Zilu's relative independence as his greatest asset? You don't even have to make him Crown Prince to use him; just instill some sense of pride and validation, feed his need for attention and put him behind Zitan's throne. Okay, maybe don't do that last thing, deadly brotherly competition being a whole thing in palace environments, but still, use him! But no, Huanmi remained the only person to actually see and appreciate Zilu for what he was. Is it any wonder he was so absolutely loyal to her that even when it looked like she had attacked him with lethal intent, he still cared about her safety most of all?

And is it any wonder that he expedited his considerable will and brainpower solely for her benefit? I was absolutely floored when I realized that becoming an Emperor wasn't actually his ultimate goal - marrying Huanmi in the biggest, reddest wedding possible was! Even if he needed to drag the more august guests in at swordpoint. Not to say he didn't want to take the throne for his own sake; he absolutely did, but only as far as it served as a big fat fuck you to every person who kept dismissing him out of hand, so basically every person other than Huanmi. Taking the crown was a power fantasy, an idee-fixe of sorts, but for all that keeping a throne in one's basement can be seen as somewhat peculiar, there are very few - if any - signs of actual delusion in Zilu's actions. The throne is not a goal in itself, merely a way to achieve his primary goal, which is to marry the woman he loves, take revenge for Huanmi's sake as much as his own and build a life worthy of her. She's his Empress and by gods, she's going to be the real deal soon enough, no more cosplaying in private villas, however nice it might be!

Ma Zitan, the one and only Master of Mope

With every Ma Prince I become more and more convinced that there was something seriously wrong with Daddy Emperor's brain. Neglecting Potato makes some sense within the greater political picture, letting Zilu lie fallow is the height of foolishness, yet it's more a matter of criminal inaction than actively doing something wrong, but Zitan? Oh, there is no excuse for the way Daddy Emperor chose to deal with Zitan. If the Third Prince was truly his intended heir from the start and there is little reason to believe otherwise - if Wangs are to go then Potato is done for, Zilu was never even considered and Zitan remains the favourite long after showing his complete uselessness - why not try to prepare him for his future role? True, doing so openly might provoke the Wangs, but it's not like there aren't any ways to present such ruler lessons as something else, even a punishment. But no, let's just hope he turns out okay all by himself!

Now, logically reasoning, if Zitan was Daddy Emperor’s favourite and the prince he originally wanted as his heir, then Zitan should be given all possible help, right? So why wasn’t he taught any actual skills, whether in governance or in military matters? The thing is… they might have tried. In episode 61, when Zitan asks his faithful pair of retainers if he would be able to best Xiao Qi, their first answer is not that he’s the Emperor so it’s a given. Well, that too, but the first, immediate response? You studied the art of war. Which, okay, might be a reasonable guess when it comes to any prince, but those retainers are rather young and only recently-promoted. Before their soujourn at the Imperial Mausoleum they probably served somewhere within the wider imperial household, but not close enough to any great personage to be knowledgeable about what the princes might or might not have studied. Also, that answer, should Zitan’s lessons be limited to his early childhood, would make them look like idiots or bootlickers of the worst sort. But let’s say that Zitan actually studied the art of war and did so longer than his brothers. Or, alternatively, with more famous masters. That would naturally be a subject of some talk, if only within the imperial household itself. If so, then the female retainer, who seems rather astute in general, gave the best answer she could give.

Okay, so maybe somebody actually tried to help Zitan along. It still failed. Zitan at twenty or so is singularily useless and strangely unambitious, and no, calligraphy doesn't count as useful, not if one is an imperial prince and Emperor-to-be!

It's not Zitan's uselessness or even his refusal to feel any kind of reponsibility for his own people (as shown in the Huizhou arc) I have the most issue with. Although the latter is simply disgusting. And... really, really short-sighted. If Huizhou falls, as it surely must, Jianning and Co. get a clear way to the capital, leaving Xiao Qi to play deadly catch-up. Which means that Zitan's family is pretty much done for. Now, he might not care about Potato and Zilu, but surely he should feel something towards his father? Some filial piety, if not actual love? But no, screw the people of Huizhou and screw Daddy Emperor. Still, does he think that Jianning wouldn't pursue him to the ends of the earth in order to eradicate a potential claimant?

No, what really angers me is the way Zitan treats the women he claims to hold dear. And I'm not even speaking of Awu, although it's rather obvious that he cares little for her internality and rather more than is healthy for his idealized image of her. Xie Guifei dies for him, which is not his fault in the least... or is it? See, I'm pretty sure that Zitan's insistence on marrying Awu despite his mother's reservations was what provoked the Wangs to take certain... steps. Provoking a power struggle is all fine and good, if you're at least somewhat prepared for the consequences. Zitan is no fifteen year old well-bred young lady, he's an imperial prince right in the middle of a delicate balance of power, how the hell does he not know or care about possible ramifications? Naivety is theoretically not a crime, but that surely is criminal naivety. Which begs the question - how hard was that boy coddled by his mother? My guess is a lot. But Xie Guifei is but a trifle compared to the elephant in the room.

Xie Wanru. Xie Wanru, who supported Zitan as much as she could while being in a precarious situation herself. And whom he had no problems with asking for further support, going as far as to aim for the throne, disregarding her own and her children's potential interests. Xie Wanru, who didn't make the first move, even knowing Zitan to be a potential threat to her and hers. Xie Wanru, whose baby got a full portion of avuncular love in form of actual torture and was lucky to get away with his life. Xie Wanru, his sister, whose ghost must have screeched with fury upon hearing Zitan laud himself as this paragon of brotherly feelings in comparison to the well-intentioned Turnip.

Oh, and he just sat there like an offended child while the country kept sliding into chaos, simply because some evil old men didn't let him kill Cheng's entire army with his sheer incompetence. Those dastardly old bastards! Let them scramble around and let the people in the provinces keep dying; they all deserve this for not recognizing Zitan's awesomeness! I'm not saying he should have fixed everything. I'm saying he should have done the bare minimum. He killed a brother for that throne, now he should actually do something with it. Other than purposefully provoking the only guy who actually restored peace and stability simply because the man happens to be married to Zitan's first love.

I'm sorry, I cannot with Zitan. There's a lot more to be said about that twerp, much of which has already been said, but at this point refraining from plowing on it's a matter of mental hygiene.

[ibijau]

firstly, i would like to apologize for the way that i saw the words “any ship” and instantly took them as a challenge to create new, bad ships. secondly, i am suggesting number 7 with lan xichen/wen xu. no, you did not misread that; mr capybara can get along with everyone so well that i’m assigning him an entirely new evil boyfriend. bonus points if you actually find a way to make this work in a canon or pre-canon universe, bc i sure can’t see one!

Holding their hair back as they vomit into the toilet

See, this is the one that got me in trouble. Because actually, that ship isn’t even that bad to me. I’m pretty sure it has been discussed several times on the xisang discord. And so I stupidly commented on tumblr that well, y’all think you’re giving bad ships but it’s not that awful. And boy oh boy, do I regret that now (not really, it’s gonna be fun)

warning for mentions of violence against a corpse, and for vomiting :)

The nausea hits Wen Xu when they pass through Qinghe, and doesn’t leave from that point on. It goes ever stronger as the cart gets closer to the Unclean Realm. If not for the man sitting next to him and throwing him weak smiles, Wen Xu would have jumped on his sword and ran away. This is a terrible, terrible plan, and he should have known better than to let Lan Xichen get plotting, and yet…

And yet, what choice did he have? Wen Xu doesn’t have his father and brother’s blind faith in Qishan Wen’s power. He understands the power of numbers, of good position, of sheer rage too. The instant Lotus Piers burned, he sent a letter to Lan Xichen, begging for his help. A desperate move after what happened with Qingheng-Jun, but Lan Xichen knows it was an accident. Back then too, they had a plan.

Hopefully, this one will work better.

As they fall into the shadows of the Unclean Realm’s high walls, Wen Xu starts fidgeting with the bandages on his face. If too much of his features show, if he is recognised… Nie Mingjue is on the frontlines, his little brother hidden far away in the Cloud Recesses, but Wen Xu’s face is one even lesser Nie cultivator will have seen at conferences. If he is seen, if he is spotted… this isn’t just about him, Lan Xichen too would…

“Calm down,” Lan Xichen whispers, taking his hands and forcing them away from his face. “I am well liked and well trusted here. And it’s only for a day or two, to avoid arousing suspicions. I always stop here when I’m in the area.”

Wen Xu, growing more nervous with every passing moment, grasps one of Lan Xichen’s wrists. Lan Xichen smiles as best as he can, and struggles against that grasp until they’re holding hands instead, their fingers tightly linked together. It feels more comforting that it should. Wen Xu has no faith in his father and brother, but he would follow Lan Xichen to the end of the world if the other man asked him too.

After a last squeeze, Lan Xichen lets go of Wen Xu’s hand and turns his gaze back to the doors of the Unclean Realm. He frowns and narrows his eyes, as if trying to see something, then turns deathly pale.

“Oh no,” he gasps.

That’s all the warning Wen Xu gets before he hears Nie Mingjue’s booming voice coming their way.

“Xichen! What are you doing here?”

Wen Xu shrinks on himself. He wants to take Lan Xichen’s hand again, to have the other man smile at him, look at him. He resists the impulse, fearful of attracting attention on himself, and watches instead as Lan Xichen smiles peacefully at the man who presents such danger to both of them.

“Mingjue-xiong, this is a surprise,” Lan Xichen says, sounding quite delighted to meet his friend. “I thought you’d be on the front.”

“I’ve just returned to do some decorating,” Nie Mingjue announces, leaning on the side of the cart. Wen Xu doesn’t look, but feels his gaze on him. “Who’s that with you, Xichen?”

“The heir of a small sect attached to Gusu Lan by marriage,” Lan Xichen flawlessly lies. “He was captured and wounded, but I freed him and I’m taking him to safety.”

The intensity of Nie Mingjue’s eyes on Wen Xu grows. They’re going to die, Wen Xu is certain of it. All these efforts, and they’re going to die, both of them.

They’re going to die, they’re going to die, they’re going to…

“Well, I’ve got good news for him then!” Nie Mingjue announces smugly. “The war is going well. Help the man sit up, Xichen. I’ve got something to show that will please both of you.”

“Mingjue-xiong, it’s been a long day, I’d rather…”

“It’s on the way in,” Nie Mingjue explains. “Just sit him up so he doesn’t miss it.”

Lan Xichen’s face remains calm, but his hands are shaking as he helps Wen Xu sit up. In turn, Wen Xu doesn’t have to pretend too much when he leans against Lan Xichen’s side. His nausea is still there, stronger than ever. He must stink of fear so badly it’s a surprise that Nie Mingjue can’t smell it, when everyone knows the Nie are more beasts than humans.

As the cart starts moving, Wen Xu wonders what, exactly, he’s supposed to be seeing on his way in. There’s just not much around, and the bandages on his face do limit his field of vision.

Lan Xichen spots it before him.

Lan Xichen whose body turns to stone, and his grip on Wen Xu to iron.

There, right in the middle of the main yard of the Unclean Realm, there’s a high pike with a head on it. A head that Wen Xu knows too well, because it’s one he sees in every mirror, every puddle of water.

Bile hits the back of his throat, and he has to clench his teeth to avoid puking in public.

“We got him trying to retreat during our last battle,” Nie Mingjue explains proudly, mistaking their horrified silence for admiration perhaps. “He begged for his life like a dog and tried to pretend he wasn’t who we thought. Pathetic.”

In spite of the danger, Wen Xu blindly grasps Lan Xichen’s hand, desperately needing to ground himself.

That wasn’t the plan.

The plan, Wen Xu told his cousin a week ago, was for said cousin to disguise as him, mess up a battle, fake his suicide after that dishonour so nobody would look for Wen Xu, and then run back to his family and take them very far away from this war. Wen Xu gave the man gold, letters to guarantee his passage to safety, and placed his wife and children with Wen Qing’s people since nobody would dare to cross her.

Wen Xu’s cousin had just had his first son less than a year ago. Now little Wen Yuan and his sisters are orphans, and their mother will never know what became of her husband.

“Isn’t it a bit morbid?” Lan Xichen asks in a trembling voice.

“He killed your father,” Nie Mingjue reminds him.

And it’s true, of course, but it was an accident. Lan Xichen agreed that it was an accident. They’d had a plan. How were they supposed to guess that Qingheng-Jun, who hadn’t been seen in over a decade, would finally remember he was sect leader? Wen Xu hadn’t meant to kill him, and Lan Xichen had forgiven him, saying his father had likely just seen a chance to end his life without causing more dishonour to their family.

“It was Huaisang’s idea,” Nie Mingjue continues. “Well, he asked me to do that with Wen Ruohan’s head and to keep it there until he returns, but I’m sure he wouldn’t mind seeing the full set.”

“I see,” Lan Xichen whispers. “Let’s hope the war is over quickly then. The smell is going to get terrible if that stays here all summer.”

“I’ve put a spell on it to…”

“Mingjue-xiong, I’ve had a really long day,” Lan Xichen interrupts, struggling to maintain his usual polite warmth. “I know we have talked in a while, but I really would like to rest a moment. May we be given a room for the night? And something to eat as well. I am very sorry, but my plan was to leave early tomorrow morning so I can go back to the frontlines quickly once I have delivered this man to safety.”

Nie Mingjue seems surprised by that demand. He grumbles, and offers to have his healers look at Wen Xu, to have his men deliver him back to his sect. Lan Xichen politely refuses all of that, claiming some vague oath to do this in person, and Nie Mingjue gives up.

Wen Ruohan needs armies to be respected and obeyed, while Lan Xichen needs only to smile.

Terrified beyond words, Wen Xu leans heavily against Lan Xichen as they are walked to their room for the night. He doesn’t need to pretend weakness. Every time he looks around and sees a Nie crest, every time he hears Nie Mingjue’s voice, his legs buckle under him.

As soon as the door closes behind them, as soon as he’s alone with Lan Xichen and safely out of view, Wen Xu falls to his knees.

“I’m going to be sick,” he gasps.

Lan Xichen barely has time to put a basin in front of him before Wen Xu starts heaving, and before long his last meal makes a return.

It lasts too long. Even when there’s nothing left to puke, Wen Xu’s body is rocked by dry hiccups that make it near impossible to breathe. He can’t stop thinking of that head on a pike, a head that should have been his.

“I’m sorry,” Lan Xichen whispers, holding his hair out of the way with one hand, rubbing comforting circles on his back with the others. “I’m so sorry. I never thought he would be there and… well. You know Mingjue.”

Wen Xu nods, a nearly hysterical giggle escaping him before he finds that though he’s empty of food, he can still vomit bile.

He knows Mingjue indeed, the man who has sworn he would avenge his father, who has looked at Wen Xu as if he wants to cut him in pieces since the day he became sect leader. Him and that sneaky brother of his have always scared Wen Xu, something for which his brother and father have mocked him sometimes.

Wen Ruohan probably isn’t laughing anymore. Or if he is, if he thinks he’s just rid of the weaker of his two sons at last, that only proud and devoted Wen Chao remains… then he’s a bigger fool than Wen Xu ever thought him to be, and he won’t be missed by his eldest son.

Between Wen Ruohan and Lan Xichen, the choice was always an easy one.

[conaionaru]

Honor and Blood (Ivar the Boneless)

A greedy Fool

Synopsis: Vanya is now eight months pregnant and Silas finally arrives. He is in for a big surprise.

Warning: Ivar, angst, toxic family, manipulation, mentions of murder

Tags: 

@youbloodymadgenius @xbellaxcarolinax  @didiintheblog @lol-haha-joke @queenbeeta @heavenly1927 @shannygoatgruff​

P.S. Anything in cursive is Old Norse. Anything in bold and cursive is a memory. 

I am trying to give Silas some form of motive and personality, hopefully it fits. I want him to be more than a villain, that’s there to create drama. He is a jerk (asshole, dick,..), but let him be a deep one. 

I don’t own the gifs. Also, thank you for your support. I really appreciate it. If you want to be tagged please write me<3 

Ever since the sacrifice to Freyja, Vanya had no dreams of Silas or the stranger. If it was thanks to the goddess or her newfound courage, Vanya had no clue. But she didn't care either way. She was no eight months pregnant and more pressing matter to worry about then why she is finally getting sleep.

A fisherman spotted ships on the horizon bearing the red sun of Slegia. Which meant Silas is nearly here, so she must be ready. Brynja and Margrethe helped Vanya dress and did her hair to greet her brother at the shore. "The pink one or the red one?"

"Pink." Margrethe nodded at the order and laid the dress out on Ivar's and Vanya's bed as Brynja helped her out of her sleeping gown. Ivar was already in the Great Hall talking to his brothers and mother about the precautions against Silas. 

Vanya stared out of the window of their chambers to watch people pass by in a hurry. She exhaled loudly and stood up from the chair with great difficulty. Nowadays, the ginger needed help getting up and rested her legs a lot. Sigurd joked to her that she is now equal to Ivar, the heavily pregnant one and the cripple. What a pair they are.

"Are you sure? You could stay in bed and rest; we could tell him you are ill." Brynja asked, worried, seeing the pale complexion her princess spotted. But the said girl only shook her head and pushed her shoulders back with her head held high. 

"It is alright. I just have to do what Sigurd told me. Walk proudly with death in my eyes." Brynja and Margrethe raised both an eyebrow at the tidbit of information, thinking of Ivar and his angry expression all the time. 

Brynja chuckled at the fierce look in Vanya's eyes. "You have been practicing, Vanya. You already look terrifying for someone with a heart as big as yours."

Vanya beamed at the compliment, turning from a scary Viking Princess into a ray of sunshine. The two girls laughed at the sudden change and led Vanya to the Great Hall to join the others. Together Aslaug, Vanya, and the Ragnarssons arrived at the shore where Silas would reach within an hour.

"It will all be alright, Lillemor (Little mother). And before you know it, he will return to his kingdom, and you will forget all about him." Hvitserk whispered into her ear, making Vanya smile in thanks. They agreed not to kill Silas and endure his presence till he left. As long as Silas behaved, he wouldn't be beheaded or harmed.

The ships drew nearer with the help of the good wind, Vanya thought about her monster of a brother.  "You are a waste of space! Unthankful, filthy, and stupid. Aren't you?" "You will do as I say. Or I will let the heathen army have their way with you in the middle of the streets."  "The cattle in the barn has more intelligence than you. Maybe I should let you live with them to learn a thing or two." "I should have smothered you in your crib like I wanted to!" He was cruel and cared about nobody but himself and the throne. 

By the time Vanya snapped out of her thoughts, the ships were docked, and Silas looked at them with a smirk on his face. The King got off the boat, flanked with his knights. 

He was clad in their father's blue cloak with his crown on his head, wearing both proudly and smugly. As if to show everyone, he was better then them. "Welcome to Kattegat, King Silas. I hope the journey was well," Aslaug greeted the blond Saxon, who looked her over and smirked at her.

"Could have been better, but we prevailed like we always do. You must be Queen Aslaug, the one who sees the future?" Aslaug nodded in agreement as Ivar clenched his teeth together in anger. The Christian spoke like a snob mocking his mother without any respect for her title. 

"Let me introduce you, King Silas. You already know, Bjorn." The Queen said with a fake smile, her eyes sharper than any blade. Bjorn stared down at the smug King with hard eyes, Silas returned the stare with the same amount of disgust. "My sons Ubbe, Hvitserk, Sigurd, and Ivar. And of course, my daughter Vanya." 

The Saxon looked the sons of Ragnar and smirked when he had to look down to look at Ivar. The youngest Ragnarsson glared at him from his seat on a chair, with Ubbe on his left and Vanya on his right. Silas looked at his sister and smirked at her brace facade. "Lovely sister, you have grown. I was worried my letter never reached you when you didn't respond."  

"She hasn't been feeling that well, carrying a child is not an easy task," Aslaug said, walking towards her son and his wife, laying a hand on their shoulders. "We can assure you; we have been taking good care of Vanya, she is a part of our family after all." 

"Of course." Silas nodded his smirk still present as he embraced Vanya. "How far along are you?"

The ginger laid a hand on her stomach and smiled at him. "Eight months. Is Mother not here?" Silas shook his head and mentioned back at the ship.

"She has found a new lover with a huge treasury. But let's not trouble ourselves with talk of whores." Silas snapped back spit flying out of his mouth, Vanya agreed against her will thinking of her poor mother who was left alone with this spiteful idiot. 

"How long do you wish to stay, Brother?" Vanya questioned, looking at the knights that he bought with him. They looked tense, watching the Vikings as they would attack at any moment. 

Silas scoffed and glared at Vanya; all his earlier fake smiles gone. "Why, do you wish to get rid of me, Sister?" He spat angrily as Vanya shook her head and mentioned for the knights.

"I am just worried for your knights. They aren't dressed for the weather. The first snows will fall soon. I do not want them to freeze or grow ill." The King shook his head and leaned closer to her ear. The Ragnarsson stiffened, especially Ivar, who reached for the axe, he hid on his back. 

"Don't worry about my playthings. Worry about your pack of savages, dirty and pitiful just like you. Wasn't I right, Vanya? He fits you perfectly." 

"Don't call them savages; they are my people. Just like your knights used to be."

Silas scoffed at that and glared into his sister's eyes. "They are not your people, they never were and never will be. You are the womb to some mutilated heathen, you nor your child have any claim to my throne."

"Then, why are you here?" She hissed, her hatred for him evident even to the knights. Silas stared at her, shocked. How dare she speak back to him, question him, and oppose him? Who does she think she is?

"How about we move to the Great Hall? We prepared a feast to welcome you." Aslaug cut in to deescalate the situation before it came to a fight. Silas scowled down at the ginger, who matched his heated look with one of her own. He scoffed and turned to Aslaug.

"Let's go." He smiled kindly at the Queen as she returned his fake smile. "I wish to see to what standard you hold my visit." His smile turned sour as he slammed his shoulder against Sigurd's and walked with Aslaug to the Great Hall.

"What a joy he is." Hvitserk spat as Ivar and Ubbe checked on Vanya, who was breathing heavily, trying to calm her adrenaline-filled body. 

Sigurd rolled his eyes at the comment and looked up at Bjorn, who frowned at the knights armed from head to toe. "A fool. That's what he is." He spat, walking towards the hall, making sure Aslaug was alright with the King. The Ragnarssons looked at each other and shrugged, following behind Vanya, Ivar, and Ubbe.

The feast was awkward, to say the least. The Vikings had fun like always, but the Saxons were tense, and Silas watched the Northmen like they were lesser people. Ivar clutched his cup in his hand like he might throw it at Silas, even Sigurd was silent. Margrethe filled Vanya's cup and looked at the Princess worriedly. "Are you alright, Princess? You don't look so well?"

Silas looked over at his sister, who was pale with sweat on her forehead. The foreign tongue the thrall used was strange to him. It seemed pathetic in his eyes; English was much more proper. If he were king here, he would forbid the heathens to speak any other tongue, or worship other gods than the Christian one. "I am alright. The child is just restless today, that's all. Something sweet might calm it some, like usually. Could you please fetch me something like that?"

"Of course." Margrethe run off to the kitchens, while Silas stared at Vanya in disbelief. First, she dared oppose him, and now she speaks the language of these savages. How low she has fallen, his foolish little sister.

He stabbed his piece of meat with his fork and cut off a mouthful. After he swallowed the food, he washed it down with a cup of wine bought in his honor. "Mother wanted me to ask if you thought about names. She suggested Ælfgar or Wassa." 

Vanya looked at Silas, confused. "Mother wants me to name my child after Ælfgar The Thirsty?" Silas shrugged his shoulders at the question while Hvitserk looked at Vanya for an explanation. "He went mad and poisoned his three sons so they wouldn't oppose him. His wife threw him down the well and named his brother the rightful heir."

The Ragnarssons grimaced, shrugged and snorted at the weird ancestor of their sister in law. Ivar looked at Silas, trying to see through his innocent question. He doubted that Vanya's mother said that all he wanted to know was the gender of the child. "We wait with the naming until the babe is born. The name means a lot in our culture. It decides the future of the child, what the gods might have in store for it." Aslaug explained, sipping on her cup with her perfect eyebrows raised in a challenge to the bratty King of Slegia. Luckily Silas held his tongue and brooded in silence. What a rare sight it was. 

"And Wassa? What did she do?" Ubbe tried to change the subject. 

"Her husband beheaded her for being infertile," Silas said with a smirk on his face, yet Vanya shook her head at his answer and leaned closer to Ubbe.

"She wasn't infertile; she gave him a daughter. But he wanted an heir as he was already fifty and killed the young Queen. He accused her of cheating on him, said the child wasn't his." 

Silas shrugged at the history lesson and pointed at Vanya. "Can't say I blame him. She was pretty and not even twenty. He was old and rich, thinking that she betrayed him with another was plausible. The child looked nothing like him anyway." He then turned his gaze to Ivar and sneered with his teeth showing. "I wish that your child looks like you. However, it would be a shame if it had your legs. A terrible fate for a babe." 

Ivar growled at that ready to launch himself over the table and strangle the king with his own coat. Ubbe and Vanya held the youngest Ragnarsson whispering into his ear to compose himself and be the smarted man. Yet Ivar kept glaring at the proud Christian who drank his wine like a won a war. 

"Your ancestors are insane," Sigurd commented, thinking of all the family members Vanya mentioned. 

"A little bit, but there was more good than bad. Mother's ancestry is crazier." Vanya recalled thinking of the stories the wet nurses told her as a child.

Silas rolled his blue eyes at that and downed his cup, slamming it against the table. "They believed that fire runs through their veins. That's why so many of them have red hair—kissed by fire: stories, the whole lot of them. Godric The Dragon was just a fool who burned the crops of other kingdoms hoping they would name him king. It worked with a bunch of farmers who overthrew their king and gave Wrosan to Godric, doesn't make him a hero or a dragon."

Vanya hated to agree with Silas on that one. Godric was a desperate man who wanted more than a field to plow. He created a dynasty of redheads by marrying a common girl. And now Wrosan is poor, supported by Slegia though marriage and heirs. It was sad to see a kingdom fall to ruin, because of fights between greedy siblings. What was more tragic was that it was their grandfather that did it, which forced Siflæd to marry Osmond. And Silas was exactly like their grandfather, greedy, foolish, and cunning. 

"Well, at least you are somehow normal, Lillemor ( Little mother)." Hvitserk teased his sister, ignoring the offended noises Silas made. 

"I will take that as a compliment. I think." Vanya mussed, smiling at the flaxen-haired Ragnarsson. 

Sigurd smirked at that and mentioned to Ivar. "Well, you can't be completely normal. Otherwise, you wouldn't love our little brother. And us. It takes a little bit of crazy to like us. Skol!" Everybody drank from their cups, as Silas brooded in his chair.

"What's the matter, My King?" Asked a knight on Silas's right.

The King looked at him fuming, and stabbed his fork into his meat, imagining it to be Vanya's face. "They love her, Stithulf. These savages adore her; she fits right in that unthankful whore."

Stithulf leaned closer to his King and pried his hand off the knife. He held his the blond's hand in his and squeezed it to get his attention. "That's right, My King. She is a whore, that's what you must let the heathens see. You make her husband think of her as an adulterer, and the child will be no threat to you anymore. A bastard has no claim, no matter the sex. She will be nothing, just like she had always been." Silas hung onto every word that left the knight's lips and agreed. "You do trust me, do you not?"

"Of course I do." Silas spat back offended, ripping his hand away before somebody might notice and accuse him of laying with men. Stithulf was his advisor and protector, not his lover. A friend who saw the threat Vanya's child poses for his crown. If it weren't for Stithulf, Silas would have never taken any action. "I just don't see the reason why the babe is such a problem. The council said most of the children here don't live long. And when I marry, my son will be King, no matter if Vanya's was born sooner. The stupid bitch doesn't even want the crown."

"She might not. But what of them? These savages are dangerous. And the child is of heathen blood. Do you want a pegan to sit on your throne? To wear your crown and rule your people? If the cripple doesn't believe us, then we murder the mother and child both. So there won't be any more incidents like this. First, we deal with her; then, we deal with your uncle. You deserve to rule, always did. You are the rightful King of Slegia and Wrosan. Silas the Great."

The spiteful king nodded at that, watching his sister talking with the Queen, Ragnarsson, Helga, and Floki. "Silas the Great. You are right. I deserve everything."

"And you shall get it, My King," Stithulf smirked behind the Kings back. What an easy chess piece the idiot was, so easy to manipulate - The Perfect King indeed.

[ijustwant2write]

All Because Of A Tantrum-Sigurd Ragnarsson x Reader x Ivar Ragnarsson

(GIF credit to @heathenarmyimagines​ and @honestsycrets​)

Requested by anonymous: ‘Possessive Ivar x Fem!Reader x Sigurd, please?’

Summary: (Y/N) and Sigurd have been married for a short time, all for an alliance between their families; she is a wild spirit, which Sigurd loves to tame, but Ivar can’t help but let her be free.

Characters: Sigurd Ragnarsson x Reader, Ivar Ragnarsson x Reader

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Slight smut, swearing, jealousy, possessiveness, fighting

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It had all been because of a tantrum from the infamous Ivar the Boneless. Anyone would think from that sentence that Ivar was a child, but unfortunately he was a young man, the brother to my husband. 

Sigurd and I had been married for just over a month, and that is exactly how long we had known each other for. Like most marriages for people with a higher status, it was arranged by our parents, but I had grown up around this all my life. I was not bothered by it. If any man thought they could control me, I would like to see them try, and come out unscathed. My parents knew of this, they wouldn’t have married me off otherwise.

Sigurd was a good man, arrogant at times but by the gods, the sex was good. And I couldn’t complain, he was kind to me. I thought myself to be a good wife in the public eye; yes I was challenging, but where was the fun in being good all the time? 

“And where do you think you’re going so early?” I grabbed Sigurd’s shoulder as he tried to leave the bed.

He sighed in content.“I have other things to do than fucking you, you know.”

I shoved him.“Fuck you, you’re supposed to be making love to me.”

“Oh yes, sorry, forgot that it was my brother that did the fucking.”

I giggled.“Still jealous, even after the agreement we made.”

“Do you think husbands like their wives being taken by other men?”

“Well, a lot of men do it, so I guess they are completely fine with it.”

He smirked at me, pushing me onto my back. I hummed in amusement, wriggling underneath him until he kissed me. I had him in my grasp, wrapping my legs around his waist tightly, pulling him towards me.

“You’re too sneaky for me.” Sigurd mumbled, not protesting against my hold.

“And you always seem to fall into my traps.”

“My temptress.”

After spending a majority of the morning with Sigurd, we finally emerged from our home into Kattegat. Sigurd went off to train, kissing me one last time before joining his friends in the forest. No more attention for me, how boring. As an idea popped into my head, I smiled to myself, heading to the great hall; there was definitely going to be someone there that would want to see me. Ivar had a soft spot in my cold heart. He was misunderstood, different, had strong opinions (that could make him sound like a crazy man), and that interested me. He wasn’t like everyone else, he was special. Aslaug and I shared that image of him.

However, as I entered the hall, he was nowhere to be seen. I called out his name, walking around. No reply. Huffing, I walked back outside, asking a guard if they had seen him. They informed me he was training in the forest, and my heart beat a little faster. If Ivar was with Sigurd, with weapons, it could only end badly, perhaps with someone getting hurt. This was the usual for me, having to split up their fights before it escalated too much. I rode my horse to their training grounds, gradually hearing the clashes of swords and grunting over the horses hooves hitting the ground. Once it was tied up next to the other horses, I picked up my skirts and ran towards the men, groaning when I spotted the two men doing exactly what I thought they would be.

“Shut your mouth!” Ivar shouted, gripping onto the axe in his hand.

“Now I understand why (Y/N) needs me to fuck her so much, you’re obviously not satisfying her. I was sympathetic towards you, thinking my wife might make your life a little better.”

“Urgh, are you two ever going to stop this?” I moaned as I approached them.

Their brothers and friends laughed under their breaths, knowing that I wouldn’t hold back. And they wouldn’t dare snap back at me.

“(Y/N), what are you doing here?” Sigurd asked.

“I can always sense when you two are on the verge of killing each other. Sometimes I think Odin put me in your lives to keep the four Ragnarsson’s alive.”

“Perhaps you are a goddess on Earth.” Hvitserk cheekily remarked.

“Would that really be a surprise?”

Ivar’s tone was calmer, though there was still spite.“Your husband seems to want to spread lies about me. Tell him the truth.”

“About what?”

“About bedding you. How I can make you scream louder than Sigurd could.”

I sighed.“You both fuck me just fine.”

The men laughed, Sigurd and Ivar staring at me in disbelief. 

“Maybe I should remind you, prove you wrong.” Ivar snarled.

I rolled my eyes, already walking away.“Anything to keep you two away from each other.”

The men became rowdy after this, and I could hear Ivar dragging himself after me. The power I held was amazing. Men always bragged about how great they were, how strong and powerful they could be, yet here these two men drooled over me, fighting for the most attention. 

“Why would you say that?” Ivar snapped once we made it back to Kattegat.

I flopped onto the cushions sprawled over the rugs on the floor.“Ivar, it does not matter what I said. My plan worked.”

“What plan?” he was now laying beside me.

“The plan to stop you two killing each other. It would be devastating to lose either of you.”

“You would mourn over me for longer.”

"Do not boost your ego anymore than you already have." I smiled, filling over to face him.

He stared at my eyes."What do you see in my brother?"

"What do you mean?"

"Do you love him?"

"Yes, I do."

"Do you love me?"

“Yes.”

“You are lying.” he scoffed, shaking his head.

“No I’m not. Why would you say that?”

“Why would you love a cripple when you are already married to a regular man?”

“There is no such thing as a regular man.” I started, propping up onto my elbow.“All men are bastards.”

“I’m trying to have a serious conversation with you.”

“Ivar, why should love be restricted? It never has been in our history. I cannot contain my love for just one man. I bedded many men before I even met Sigurd.”

“I thought you were a virgin when you married Sigurd?”

“My parents still thought I was. It would crush father if the dowry were low.”

That made Ivar laugh.“I wish it were me you were married to.”

“You would grow bored of me.”

“I believe that the Gods wanted to torture me by putting you here with my brother.”

“Of course not. You are being over dramatic.”

“I should have had you.” he held my hand.“Sigurd doesn’t deserve you. You would have been more of a queen by now if I had you!”

“I am yours. Just because I have been united with your brother, does not mean you can’t have me, or take me whenever you please.”

“I am Ivar, son of Ragnar. I am a prince! I deserve you, you are mine!”

Scooting closer, I laid my head on his chest, shushing him gently. I could hear his heart beat racing, pace of breath quickening as he worked himself up.

“Yes, you are. You deserve everything and more. And just think, everyone will know your name once you and your brothers defeat Aelle, avenging your fathers death!”

“They will be under my command.”

“Yes.”

“I will prove my brothers wrong, I am strong enough to do this!” 

“You already are.”

“(Y/N), I want you to bear my children.”

I lifted my head, surprised by his statement.“Ivar, I don’t know how Sigurd would feel-”

“You said you loved me, you said your love was not restricted!”

“Yes, but I would still have to ask my husband. We have to ensure that your heirs wouldn’t set out to kill one another.”

“I don’t care. I want to see you pregnant with my child.”

“I am going to ask him.”

“Fine. But just know, I don’t care what he says.”

I had not slept with Ivar that day. Usually when he got worked up like that, he would let out that pent up anger on me (which I thoroughly enjoyed). Instead, we laid together for hours, talking about everything and nothing. It was extremely rare to see this side of him, even I had hard time getting it out of him. You had to savour that emotion from it, it made him more human.

His brothers returned from training, all of us sitting down to eat lunch together. It was peaceful as we ate, there were no arguments; one or two snide comments were thrown at each other, but they were brothers, it was normal. I left with Sigurd, arms linked as we silently walked home. Although Sigurd agreed to share me with Ivar, anyone could see he hated it. They despised each other, despite being brothers.

“What happened with Ivar today?” Sigurd asked as we entered the house.

“If you’re asking if we fucked, then no, we didn’t.”

“Good.”

“You made an agreement-”

“I know.”

“You’re both so jealous of each other. All you need to do is think of me, I’m your happy thoughts.” I smirked, wrapping my arms around his neck.

He sighed in content as his hands went to my waist.“I’m not jealous.”

“Just promise me you won’t end up killing each other when you form this Heathen Army.”

“We are sons of Ragnar, we will live forever.”

[m-adp-each]

Nine Ways to Kill a Demigod

   The first method seemed the easiest: to hit with the car somewhere outside the city and with a clean soul to leave the scene of the crime. Even the preparation for this case was quite serious: tracking the target for several days to analyze the route. And so, gathering his strength — although during such situations, even conscience did not torment the soul — his foot pressed down hard on the gas pedal. The loud rustle of the wheels rubbing against the asphalt, on which small stones bounced, barely reached the ears of the driver, who was completely absorbed by only one sound — his heartbeat.

     A slight push, accompanied by the rocking of the body in the chair (fasten your seat belts, children, otherwise there would be two corpses instead of one). Leaning back against the seat again, he took a deep breath and slowly stretched his neck out the open window of the door.

     He's moving.

    And in order not to be noticed, he quickly leaves without looking at the downed target or at his car. He should have. The dent in the hood was deep enough. And the carcass was not destroyed, and still pay for the breakdown.

     The second method is a banality. Invite them to visit under the pretext of improving relations between their personalities. In order not to arouse suspicion the younger one was also invited, let them have fun with son. And he smiles, the infection, pleasantly and friendly, while he puts the poison in the drink. A poison that could kill a horse with just a few drops, carefully stored on a shelf in an old office.

     He does not interfere when the guest eats the meat on both cheeks — let him be satisfied before he dies. Nobody can't goes to Valhalla with an empty stomach. There were and there are rumors: in what state you will die, in this state you will live your dead eternity.

     And what is he, a monster or something, to kill a hungry man?

 

    And he watches carefully as the cup of mead is brought to his lips, as the adam's apple on his throat twitches in slow sips. If he feels some kind of trick, drink with caution. Can't figure out what's wrong with a delicious, sweet drink. And when he finishes everything, he asks for more. He smiles. He sees the smile in return and doesn't know that rage is boiling inside.

     The third method is childish. Sit in a dark street corner and wait for him to pass by. And while waiting to light a cigarette. One, two, three. Where was he? Well, of course, today is the day off, why would he come back from school, you fool!

     Okay. Tries every other day. Two cigarettes are enough and a familiar silhouette appears on the horizon. He pulls his hood down and tries to blend in with the gloom. And when the right person passes by, he grabs him by the scruff of the neck and pulls into the darkness. He bends his arm at the elbow, and with it his throat. He doesn't let he breathe, ignores the rebuff. Only he breathes quickly and noisily, holding the body in his grip... but how much does he weigh? Not so that, in addition to strength, the weight of Thor has taken over?

     So, what's this? Ah, the dog. Shoo, get lost. «No way, my friend. Remember when you didn't feed me six months ago? So here you go, get a bite in the leg.»

     The teeth are sharp in the yard dog, they sink into the ankle. There is nothing left but to let go of the potential corpse and cling to the furry mutt. While he was sorting it out, the corpse ran away. The wound on him leg is burning.

     The fourth way — but can he swim? Not at all. It doesn't matter how he knows this information. But the fact remains. Maybe someone has already noticed that a great man has been following a simple guy for weeks. Pricked up his ears and attentively watches their movements, not understanding what is happening. However, if someone suddenly thinks of something — always can bite the throat. That's a big deal.

     So, a pure, ridiculous accident if suddenly someone slips on the pier and falls into the sea. There is a great depth, far from the shore or shallow water. There's no one around. What a shame. It remained to organize the fall, which was not so difficult.

     Walking along the edge of the dock, he didn't expect to hear a rumbling growl out of nowhere. It's like a thunderclap even though there's not a cloud in the sky. But a large cloud immediately began to fall down trying to keep its balance.

     Funny twitching stumps.

     So expectantly looks around the corner, with a request, a plea in his eyes. Even blows in the direction of the «lucky guy» which soon becomes so when an outsider runs up.

     The throat can be chewed out not only by the talkative.

     The method of the fifth. Flying is a sign of freedom. The monks sit for years in their lotus positions trying to separate the soul and body, to learn the so-called zen and merge with nature. And he is ready to organize it in a matter of seconds! It is only necessary for a spiritually developed person to stand near the construction complex. A concrete slab falling on his head will do everything by itself. It is not difficult to raise the roof (in the future the roof). It's even easier to throw it off. And the sight was as good as it had been three thousand years ago. It was much more difficult to keep the target in one place. No, he'll definitely have to see a psychologist soon.

     That's who asked you, dear employee, to call an «outsider» who is forbidden to enter here? Why the hell are you suddenly concerned about safety, you drunkard? In short, the concrete slab did not feel a sense of freedom. But it turned out to be an excellent boxing «bag» for a powerful punch. From the center, a web began to spread across the surface.

     Method six. Psychological pressure. So, we have a person with innate speech problems, living in a single-parent family, because once upon a time the keeper of the hearth heroically fell under snowdrifts. His friend recently died, and some parts of the city think he's a psychopath. Well... it would be very embarrassing if the nightmares accidentally killed the poor, immature mind.

     Why did parents stop monitoring their children's sleep patterns? «Here in our time...» — visited the thoughts in his head, when the atmosphere of two o'clock in the morning hung in space, and the guy lying on the bed, at the laptop, did not even think to sleep. And how, may he ask, do he begin to terrorize him with nightmares?

     That's it, lay down. So, he can remember the spell. He speaks quietly, sitting outside the window, watching — and it's good that the others are asleep. They would have wondered what the head of the local campaign had left on the stairs at the newcomers ' house. But it doesn't matter much when he cast a spell on a defenseless teenager to make him go crazy from his dreams.

     No. A teenager it turns out can also show strength in dreams. Monsters with screams and tantrums run back to complain to their creator. Perhaps it was their tears that came in a strong gust of wind, causing the ladder to stagger, and the person standing on it to fall down.

     Method seven.

     «Vidar, put the axe back in the cabinet.»

     «But Ra-an!»

    «Don't give me «Ran»!»

     The way to the eighth. He releases a secret weapon into battle. So what if he's blind — but he can smell well and go at the speed of light. Especially when he hears the refrigerator opening. The favorite in the family-because the only one who listens and does not cause a headache. You're going to be sent to your death, fluffy.

     Here, smell the clothes of our beloved demigod. Got a lead? Run, tear it up, bring the head to me, you can bury the bones in your warehouse in the back yard.

     You mean he tore his mouth open? How to ask for meat, so «I am a beast, I am a power, I am a monster», but as the heir of the divine forces to destroy so no. Fie on you, toothy, I believed in your strength…

     He speaks spiteful speeches, wiping a stingy tear from his cheek and pledging to avenge his faithful friend.

     Method ninth.

     What if we short-circuit him? While the lightning sparkles pour water.

     «Honey, you'd better drink some Valerian and calm down. You're already delusional.»

     «I'm hungry for blood and revenge.»

     «And I think you're looking for a fried kebab from jotun.»

     The wife looks expressively like this. The rights are the same a little something, so immediately fry…

    Where were we staying?

Oh, yes.

Nine ways not to Go Crazy when your main Enemy is a teenager

[shyanonimousunicorn]

Why the Bellona house is better than Augustus.

First disclaimers: I love the Augustans. Adrius is my all time fave villian. How great Mustang is, simply can’t be described. And Nero is one imposing ass dude.  However speaking of connections and love between the family members and even number of actual normal human beings, the Augustus family can’t really step on the Bellona. ( and Mustang can’t carry the whole house on her back) Lets look at the proud Lions for a second so i can make comparisons. Nero may be the most powerful man on Mars however his love is the most conditional love ive seen in a parent. And considering the fact he made his brilliant son a monster and drove his wife to suicide, he is a man you wouldn’t want as a husband or father. Adrius despite being one of my faves in The Red Rising series, is beyond doubt a monster, as a male ( since Nero was obviously so very set on having a male heir) he was supposed to be perfect in ways he wasn’t and he tried and succeeded in becoming more ruthless, more power hungry, more monstrous, merciless and vicious than his father at the end.Only Mustang was spaired the same fate, partially to the fact her father didnt have the same expectations from a girl ( yeah Nero was sexist, you can’t deny that) AND because in the end, she had friends like Pax and Daxo and was raised by the Telemanus family ( technically speaking from all the Gold families, The Telemanus are the healthiest Gold house in the books)  Now as I said, Mustang can’t carry the weight of a whole house on her back but you will ask, okay but then Cassius won’t be able to carry his house on his shoulders either, no matter how wide and huge they are. Well, he doesn’t. The Bellona unlike Augustus family have 50 members and Cassius wasn’t the kindest of them all ( despite being good natured and kind hearted), Julian was. Julian was kind, compassionate, gentle and lovelable. We didnt get to see much of Cassius’s twin but we were given a very clear description of who he was as a person, both from Darrow and from Cassius. In fact he was so beloved by his mother ( yes, Julia is very vengeful, spiteful and full of hatred, but then again, ask any mother...no matter the circustances, how would they feel towards a person who killed her child) she is more than willing to abandon any pride, any justice and all honour to have her revenge. But hold there, contrary to Nero’s cold and absolutly terrifing parenting and conditional love, Tiberius au Bellona, leader of House Bellona and father to Cassius, Julian ( and 8 more kids) is honorable, loving father who taught Cassius to be what he is today - basically the knight in shining armour, a man of honor. During the duel at the Gala, Tiberius saw his brightest child being inches away from death and yet he accepted the fact these are the grounds of the duel.BUT WHAT OF KARNUS, the monster you will ask. Firstly, almost every house seems to have them ( except the Telemanus ) Well I am here to say, I see a lot of people like Apple,well Apollonius is not that much different than his best drunking buddy Karnus - violent, monstrous, ruthless, decandent and excessive in his desires, albeit he is more flamboyant and dramatic in his presence. But the fact he was a monster, but he was quite fond of Cassius ( and resentful of Julian) so he too has depth but this post is mostly not about the individuals rather the house manner - The Bellonas are obviously are family family, they support, they love, and stick together. In fact, their connection rings very similar to that of the Raa - Romulus being the honorable father, Dido being the vengeful scheming mother, Diomedes, the favorite son and AN olympic knight ( and we even have an even worse family monster in Atlas’s face). Cassius, who changed and grew a lot over in the years, never stopped loving his family as we saw in IG. I understand a lot of people tend to villify the Bellona family because Darrow was on the side of the Augustans and they targeted him ( and Darrow is ofcourse our beloved hero) but their reaction was a natural one. One of theirs was killed by Darrow and everything was staged by their biggest enemy the Archgovernor. Later their most beloved son was almost killed in a duel by the same man ( and yes Cassius tried to be mean with words but its normal to taunt the enemy and try to make him less concentrated, after all Darrow - for the drama - yelled at Tiberius face and tried to rile up the Bellona even more to start a civil war, this doesnt make Cassius a bad man) So the Bellona aren’t worse than the Augustus there. Even Darrow senses it, but he had no other choice but to become their enemy in order to fullfil his mission Thus my verdict is final ( at least for myself, everybody is allowed an opinion) the Bellona were technically a greater and healthier family than the Augustus. Nero would never match Tiberius and even Julia as a parent because their love for their children was genuine and uncondional ( Julian whom by Nero’s standarts would be weak and undeserving of care was beloved by his parents ) p.s @jasmin-au-bellona just cause u love to be informed about everything in regards to Cassius au Bellona, your husband :D

[imthequeenofcordonia]

Wacky drabble #20: Doing the right thing

This is my contribution to @emceesynonymroll Wacky Drabble Challenge. The prompt is: Have you lost your mind? The prompt will appear in bold.

Paring: Lily x Drake 

Word count: 964

A/N: All characters belong to Pixelberry except Lily. This is set just after the royal heir book 1 after they find out about Godfrey. I wasn't going to post this after the last couple of days but I ended up deciding too.

Warnings: just language.

Lily x Drake tags: @addictedtodrakefanfic, @msjr0119 

Permatag: @desiree-0816

“Have you lost your mind?!” Lily bellowed at her twin brother as she stormed into the room, Drake trailing behind her. Liam, Leo and Regina stood from the table, walking around it to greet her. 

Lily balled her fist and soon it connected with the kings jaw. Liam stumbled back, Leo catching him before he fell as Drake wrapped his arms around his fiancés waist, yanking her back before she could deck her brother again. 

“Lil, calm down,” Drake instructed as she fought to get out of his grip. Liam cleared his throat, dabbing at his lip, as his sister relaxed and stopped fighting against Drake. 

When he was sure she had calmed down he let her go, still standing close to her in case she kicked off again. Lily shook her hand, wincing as  the pain from what she had just done hit her.

“Let me explain,” Liam pleaded. 

She scoffed, shaking her head, “He killed mom and you’re letting him get away with it?”

“No,” Liam responded hurriedly. “I’m not letting him get away with it. He will go to prison and he will be punished for what he’s done.”

“This is exactly what you did with Anton. He killed dad, he nearly killed your wife and all you did was give him a slap on the wrist and sent him to prison. Execute the son of a bitch. Kill them both!” 

Liam sighed, “Lily what would that achieve? Tell me what killing them would do? Because it won’t bring them back.”

“Are you serious?” She asked, stepping up closer to him, grinding her teeth together.

“Lily I really think you should calm down,” Leo suggested, stepping in front of Liam. 

lily shoved her finger into her eldest brother’s face. “You do not get to come back whenever you like and tell me what to do, big brother,” she smirked.

“Can we not just discuss this like adults?” Regina chimed in. Lily glared at her brother then took a seat beside Drake. 

The brothers sat opposite their sister as Regina took a seat beside Leo. Liam cleared his throat, rubbing his temple after a long night of trying to figure out what the right thing to do was. 

Liam leaned forward, looking to his sister. “I am not letting him get away with it. Not for any longer anyway. I’ve thought long and hard about this, believe me.”  

She scoffed, letting out a bitter chuckle. “Obviously not enough,” she chided, leaning back in her seat and crossing her arms over her chest. 

Liam sighed, rubbing his hands over his tired eyes. “Do you honestly think I don’t want to kill him? It’s crossed my mind but if I did that then I’d just be as bad as him.  As bad as them both. Their actions are irredeemable, people died because of what they did-”

“No,” she interrupted, leaning forward on her elbows. “Not ‘people’ Liam. Our parents. Our mom and dad died because of those criminally insane men!” 

“Yes,” Liam agreed. “Don’t you think that they deserve to be punished? Because that’s what I’m doing. They both will spend the rest of their lives in prison. If I had them executed they’d never truly be punished for what they’ve done, this way they do,” he explained. 

Lily thought over her brother’s words. What he was saying made sense, she couldn’t deny that, but then her mind wandered back to all the people she’d lost because of them, the years she spent as a child scared she’d lose someone else because of that man and nearly losing Drake at the homecoming ball. 

“No,” she mumbled, shaking her head. “I spent years terrified that I’d lose you, Leo or dad after mom died. He killed our mom, Liam! Anton killed Dad! Not to mention your wife had to give birth to your child in a ballroom and Drake got shot! Godfrey, he’s getting old, it isn’t that likely he’ll try something again, but Anton? He could get out somehow, h-he could do it all over again, Liam. I thought now that you have a child you’ve be a little bit more, I don’t know. Willing to do what’s necessary? Because it is necessary, Liam. It’s all well and good neutralizing the threat now, but what if next time you can’t?” 

“Lily,” Liam started calmly. “None of that is going to happen. Anton is never getting out; you have to move on.” 

“Li-“ Drake chimed in, sensing it was about to all kick off after Liam’s poor choice of words.

“Move on?” Lily asked , getting to her feet and slamming her hands down onto the table. “Move on?! He-they both killed people!”

“Lily-“ Leo started.

“No!” Lily turned to look at Leo. “You promised me, Leo. Do you remember? You promised me that what happened to mom would never happen again. You promised,” she breathed, trying to stop her voice cracking because the promise her brother made to her when she was little was the only thing that kept her from being scared, the only thing that gave her comfort, that her big brother would protect her.

“I know and I’m sorry,” Leo frowned.

“I don’t think you are. You hated dad and you-“ she turned to Regina. “What are you doing here? My mother had nothing to do with you and let’s face it you didn’t really love my dad. Did you know what Godfrey did? Were you apart of it? You spiteful old witch,” she seethed, her fists clenching by her side. Lily turned back to Liam, glaring daggers at him. “They deserve what’s coming to them and if you won’t give it to them, then I will. I have diplomatic immunity, there’s nothing you can do to stop me, you coward.”

[fadingcoast]

Death Of The Lie  ||  Chapter 24: Blood

AUTHORS: @silverink-goldenlies​ & @fadingcoast​

Summary: Odin and his daughter Hela are the perfect conquerors of the universe. The nine realms fall one after the other into their clutch. After Odin takes a second wife and has a son with her, he doesn’t need Hela anymore. Hela abandons her father and ends up marrying Laufey, a sworn enemy of the Aesir people. Not long after, she becomes pregnant with Laufey’s child. Odin cannot let that son be born, but against all odds, the boy survives. Odin is forced to bring him back to Asgard to be raised as his own until he could make further use of him. The half-Jotun-half-Aesir boy grows up to look and act a lot like his mother, which disturbs Odin, and makes him treat the boy horribly. Odin’s lies are deep and complex, but one day the boy will find out the truth about everything he is.

PAIRING: None RATING: Teen

MASTERLIST

Feedback is always appreciated and reblogs are encouraged!!

.-

Chapter 24: Blood

The baby opened his blood red eyes and Hela began to sob openly, her gasps of relief shaking her entire body. She slid her finger into his open palm and he grasped it tightly.

Loptr.

The one image that had fueled her spite and rage for over a thousand years was staring back at her through the waning shadows. The one person that kept her going every time she wanted to give up, standing an arm’s length away, bewildered blue eyes piercing through her soul. Hela wondered if he knew who she was, if he felt the same pull she did. He looked very different, but a mother always knows her child.

Loki only had a moment once the shadows and mist finally dissipated to decide how to react. He felt more than saw Thor change his stance and swing his hammer back, and time seemed to slow as Thor released the deadly weapon, aimed right at Hela’s face. There was no possible way for him to stop the attack. Thor meant to kill her.

“NO!”

Loki leapt to his right and tackled Thor to the ground, watching his mother in horror. But before the hammer could harm her, Hela reached out her arm, halting Mjolnir effortlessly with her palm. Her slender fingers wrapped around the worn, ancient metal and squeezed until it began to crack. Sparks of lightning rolled off of her shaking arm as it fractured apart, sending a massive shockwave in every direction and knocking her back a step. The legendary weapon fell to the ground in thousands of tiny smoking pieces.

Thor let out a choked sound as he stared, disbelieving, at his precious hammer, now turned to so much dust and a lone leather handle. He pushed Loki off of him and rose to his feet, trying and failing to summon lightning to his hands. Hela smiled dryly at the useless sparks of static twisting around his fingers.

“It’s… not possible,” Thor gasped, his hands trembling in shock. Only seconds ago his own sister had murdered his father, and now he was unarmed. “I don’t need a hammer,” he declared, staring Hela down with rage. “I’ll kill you with my bare hands!”

Hela took a confident step forward and summoned a massive necrosword to both hands with a flourish. In her dark eyes was a silent warning. Loki watched as Thor clenched his fists until his fingers turned white and he quickly stood up. Loki stepped directly in front of Thor before he could begin a fight he would undoubtedly lose. Thor’s anger redirected towards him and for a moment he feared he might get hit instead.

As calmly as he could manage, Loki placed a hand on Thor’s chest and pushed until he took a step backward. “Let her talk, brother,” he said, dropping his voice low to keep his attention. “You’ve just seen what she can do. She’ll kill you.”

“You would stand with her when she just murdered our father in cold blood?!” Thor’s seething rage caused more sparks to fly from his hands and twist around his arms. One of them flitted across Thor’s chest and shocked Loki’s hand, making him flinch with pain. 

“Your father.” Hela spoke with authority this time, raising one arm to point her necrosword at Thor. Loki turned around and stepped between them, and Hela stared into his eyes with a desperate longing that caught him off guard. “That tyrant lied to you for your entire life, Loptr. He is no brother to you. I’m -”

“My mother,” Loki finished for her. He had heard that name before, the day his life changed forever. Laufey the Jotun King had said it with his dying breath, moments before the Queen had driven her sword through his neck, just to keep the truth from him.

Thor wasn’t having any of it. He pushed Loki aside impatiently, standing less than a foot away from the tip of Hela’s sword, a challenge in his stance. Still he tried uselessly to summon lightning to his clenched fists. “Make your choice, Loki,” he said, a warning in his tone as he stared Hela down. “Are you with me or are you against me?”

Hela’s razor sharp laugh sent a chill down Loki’s spine. “Do you see, my child? Odin stole everything from you, even your name. Come with me to Asgard and I will show you the truth. The way things really were. Your true heritage.”

Torn between his past and his present, Loki tried to sort through his racing thoughts before Thor could do something rash. He tried to remember what Odin had said about her, as little as he trusted the words of the man who lied to him all his life. 

“She draws her strength from Asgard… Once she arrives there, her powers will be limitless.”

Those words had sparked an instinct in his very bones when he heard them, an instinct that reignited once again as he remembered every lie fed to him throughout his life. 

The Allmother, who had dismissed his ice magic as a quirk and claimed to share it. She had kept Odin’s lies, never once going against him. Odin, who said from the beginning that both he and Thor were destined to be kings, and yet he treated Loki like a stray dog that wandered in. The biggest lie of all, that Loki was one of them. He remembered all the books in Asgard’s library that had been torn to pieces and had so much of history redacted that the pages were soaked in black ink to hide the shame. And Thor didn’t know the truth any more than he did. There was no one he could trust to tell him the truth except the woman who stood before him. The only person who had never lied to him.

The enemy of my enemy is my friend, Loki reasoned to himself. And she is my mother.

He had to try.

Calmly Loki straightened his spine and reached out his hand toward Hela. A smile tugged at the corner of her cracked lips as he whispered three words to his Gatekeeper.

“Bring us back.”

Brilliant rainbow light streaked through the sky and encircled the three of them, its deafening roar drowning out Thor’s protests. 

Thor lunged at Hela’s throat with a maddened cry as they soared along the path of the Bifrost, but she easily knocked him aside with her necrosword as though he was a child. The blade grazed him across his chest, sending him spiraling out of the tunnel of light and into space. Loki called after him but he knew they were seconds away from landing on Asgard. Wherever Thor ended up, he would be far away.

If he survived.

But Loki had no time to process the implications of this, as a few seconds later he was deposited on the gilded floor of the observatory on his back. He groaned loudly and rolled to his knees. Fandral’s wry laughter came from his right.

“I see your time feigning to be dead made you no less graceful, Loki.”

“Run!” Loki choked out as he stumbled to his feet, but Fandral didn’t seem to hear him. The warrior kept his place by Heimdall’s sword. Clearly he was waiting for Thor to follow him. “Get out of here!”

A rush of wind and a flash of light preceded Hela’s arrival. Fandral drew his sword, deaf to Loki’s warnings. Hela stepped elegantly out of the Bifrost with her eyes closed, taking a deep breath as the scars on her body glowed and healed with Asgard’s magic flowing through her. Just as Odin had said, she drew her strength from Asgard itself. When she opened her eyes a moment later they were no longer bloodshot and bruised, and she looked stronger than ever.

"Who are you!?” Fandral demanded. “What have you done with Thor?"

“She’s -”

“I do not explain myself to lesser soldiers.” Hela interrupted Loki with a snarl at Fandral, and summoned a long necrosword in one hand.

“No!” Loki leapt towards Hela, trying to stop her. It was all spiraling out of control, he never meant for any of this. In his pursuit for answers, Loki may well have damned them all. 

Hela pushed Loki to the side and engaged with Fandral. Her new found power allowed her to overcome the warrior quickly, and soon he was nothing but a corpse staining the floor of the chamber with his blood.

Loki wanted to feel a small amount of vindication, but Fandral’s body was just another reminder of what he had lost. His life might have been a lie, but it was the only life he ever knew.

Now he was losing all of it: Frigga, Heimdall, Odin, Frandral, Thor… 

They made me who I am. And now they’re gone… 

His head was spinning, too much information, an overflow of emotion rising in his chest. Dark wisps emanated from his fingers, his skin flickering blue.

What have I done? What am I? A monster? No.

Half a monster. Half Asgardian. A mistake, at best.

The distant clanking of metal managed to pull Loki back to reality. Fast approaching rhythmic thumps made the bifrost bridge tremble.

The Palace Guard has been alerted.

Hela stood at the entrance of the Bifrost chamber and stared down at the soldiers. “I am Hela,” she announced. “Odin’s first born, Commander of the legions of Asgard, the rightful heir to the throne, and the Goddess of Death.” As she spoke, two long swords were summoned to her hands. “My father is dead,” she stated with pride. “I am here to reclaim what’s rightfully mine.”

Loki watched Hela advance on the small army that gathered by the doorway. He knew this was a fight the Einjerhar would not win. He could see it on their faces, as they looked at him for answers, they were confused. Taking advantage of their hesitation, Loki jumped in front of Hela once again, arms spread to halt the soldiers before they could attack.

Hela looked at him, puzzled by his action. “Move. They are committing treason by standing in my way!”

“They don’t know any better.” Loki swallowed hard, but stood his ground. “Prove to me that bringing you here wasn’t a mistake.” Unnoticed by him, a necrosword materialized in his hand.

Your magic is there to protect you.

Hand up to keep the soldiers in their place, he pointed the gleaming black blade towards Hela.

“What do you want, Loptr?” Hela asked. “The one thing I’ve been denied my whole life,” Loki stated. “The truth.”

“What other truth do you want but this?” Hela said, touching the edge of the sword in front of her chest, almost affectionately. “You are my son, my blood, and my power runs through your veins. I know you have felt it since you first drew breath.”

Loki knew this was true. Somehow all those nightmares, of darkness and death beckoning… why he was able to summon necroswords and obsidian daggers… why it infuriated Odin to no end when it happened… It all made sense.

Well, almost all of it. Thor may not have been Loki’s favorite person, to say the least, but to take him out of the equation altogether seemed excessive to him. The last of my family… 

“Thor was no threat to you,” Loki pointed out. “Why did you have to kill him?” 

The throng of soldiers behind him began to murmur with anger.

Hela’s eyes gleamed and a confident smile turned up one corner of her lips. “You underestimate me, my clever son. I am the Goddess of Death, remember? The would-be usurper Prince isn’t dead, he is simply… lost.”

“Enough!” The Hersir to Loki’s right raised his sword and called to his brigade. “She admitted to the murder of our King, and the Prince!” Several soldiers shouted in agreement, the energy amongst them growing violent. “Kill the impostor!”

Loki was pushed forward with the front row of soldiers as they surged toward Hela. He stumbled into her and reached out to grab her shoulders, with an outpouring of his power he teleported them both away to the main chamber of the castle, just before the golden throne.

Hela didn’t have time to think. Her feet had barely touched the ground when Loki pushed her against a pillar and pressed a dagger to her neck.

“The truth. Now.”

.-

<< Chapter 23  –  Chapter 25 >>

.-

@nikkalia​ @xalgaliareptx​  @christy-winchester​ @silverhart93​ @honeybournehippy​ @unseelie1963​ @manager-of-mischief​ @angryowlet​ @thelittlestlittlecutiepie​ @moonlightprime​ @velvetzybanshee​ @bengalaas​ @damalseer​ 

.-

I blame my country being on literal fire and a military state for the delay

[pintofteaforthesoul]

Bodyguard AU Part 7

Okay sorry for the delay guys, but this part had to be perfect. Thank you for all of your lovely comments and sticking with me! I’m enjoying this AU a lot. 

*5 years earlier in Elfhame*

“Cardan! We’re going to be late!” Jude’s light voice was gruff as she called up the staircase. Cardan skipped down the stairs, grinning at her in her finery, wrapping his arms around her slim waist. His fiancé frowned at him, but there was a spark of amusement in her eyes. “Can I-”

Cardan placed a kiss on her soft lips, relishing in the warmth of her body against his. They’d been living in their small estate for a few months now, but living with Jude was everything he’d hoped for. Jude’s eyes were delicately closed, the only delicate part of her. She pushed him away just slightly with a shake of her head.

“What will your family think if we’re late to the coronation?” She asked, but her lips pressed thin and Cardan knew she was struggling against the urge to kiss him again.

Cardan let his tail flick hair out her face, an almost serious expression on his sharp features. “I thought we’d given up trying to impress my family.”

Jude shrugged, her eyes falling to the floor. Cardan hated how much she craved their approval, it’s what made them attend court despite wanting to do anything but. Jude had been this way as long as he’d known her, and it hurt his heart to know that his love would never be enough.

Cardan took pity on his fiancé, pulling her toward the door. Their one and only servant, Tatterfell, had their steeds ready and waiting, and before long they were on their way to the event that would ruin Cardan’s life.

After bowing to his father, Cardan swept Jude onto the dance floor. They laughed as they twirled, caring little for the stares they got from the Fae folk around them. Nicasia, especially, had a sour twist on her face. But Cardan ignored it all, his heart finally full as he beheld the mortal beauty in his arms. They stood out in their matching blue attire, undeniably the most beautiful couple in the room.

When the ceremony began, Cardan couldn’t help but whisper to Jude, whose heart was visibly hammering in her chest, “We could probably sneak out now. They won’t notice our absence.”

Jude tsked at him, eyes on the dais where the rest of Cardan’s family was congregated. Madoc, Jude noticed, was off to the side near Orianna and Oak looking bored but alert to everything in the vicinity. The High King brought the ceremony to its beginning with a grand speech about age and time, but Cardan tuned most of it out. You can imagine his shock when the time came for his father to name his heir, and instead of naming any of the better choices, the High King’s voice reverberated out, “My son, Cardan.”

Every eye in the kingdom turned at once to find Cardan in the crowd. Jude’s hand tightened in his as Cardan stared at his father in shock. Dain sprang out of his chair, rage twisting his features. Balekin cocked his head to the side, only soft surprise in his eyes. Cardan could hardly believe it. His father naming him the next High King? What fate-twist was this? His breath was slow, feet cemented to the floor. He had a feeling that if he took even one step closer to the dais, Dain would run him through with the sword at his side.

“You don’t have to go if you don’t wish.” Jude’s murmur brought him back the Earth. Cardan turned to her, his love- his life. If he became the High King then after they married, she would become the High Queen. She would never have to seek anyone’s approval again- Jude could finally have the respect she so deserved.

Cardan gave her a tight smile. He could do this for her- he would do this for her. He gave Jude’s hand one last, reassuring squeeze, before wading his way through the now-parting crowd. The High King met him in the middle of the dais with a small smile on his old face. “I must say, father. I wasn’t expecting this.” Cardan puts a smile on his face, trying to act casual despite the nerves making his back tense.

His father merely nods before another figure steps forward to truly begin the ceremony of crowning Cardan. Tension radiates through Cardan’s body as the High King is instructed to take off his crown for the final time.

“Sorry to interrupt this beautiful moment.” Cardan turns to see Balekin stand, a smug look on his face. “But we thought you’d try to make a foolish decision like this.”

The High King’s eyebrows rose, but it was Cardan who asked, “We?”

“Sorry, brother.” Dain’s voice came from the other end of the dais where he’d crept behind their father. Before anyone could move, Dain’s sword cleaved through their father’s heart. Cardan stared in shock as the life left his father’s old eyes and his body fell at Dain’s feet with a thump.

Mainly out of reflex, Cardan caught the crown as it fell from the High King’s dead fingers. The crowd was in blatant horror, rooted in silence as their attention remained on the stage. Cardan’s fingers were numb as he beheld the crown.

“I’ll take that.” Balekin came from behind and plucked the crown out of Cardan’s grasp before he could protest.

Cardan stood mute as his two brothers grinned at one another, their plan obviously successful. His features twisted with a glare. “You did this on purpose? In case he named me the next king over you bastards?” Cardan didn’t particularly love his father, but the way Dain had just disposed of him without a care put a knot in Cardan’s gut. He hadn’t believed them to be so cold.

Dain narrowed his eyes at the younger prince. “Putting you on the throne was the biggest mistake our father could make, so we made a contingency plan.” Cardan looked off to Madoc, who hadn’t made a move except to send off his wife and family. His guards were around the stage, but no one had made a move to get closer. Cardan looked out for Jude, the numbness spreading as his brothers looked him down. They would kill him, surely. For spite if nothing else.

He accepted his death, eyes hardening as he turned back to his scheming brothers. He sneered, “Now that you have the crown, which one of you will wear it? You can’t share it.”

From their still-full grins, Cardan knew he’d been outmatched. He watched in abject disgust as Dain got down on his, Balekin speaking over him the words that would name Dain the one true High King.

The second the crown rested on Dain’s head the crowd erupted- in cheers. Cardan heard Jude calling his name, but couldn’t make himself turn or run to her. He watched Dain stand, power now radiating from him like a shadow. He faced the crowd with his arms outstretched. “My people! We have suffered in the shadows for far too long!” His voice echoed over the crowd, alive with energy. “Now that I am King, we will make the mortals bow beneath our feet. We will reclaim the city that was ours and mold it into our image.” Cheers met his words, to Cardan’s horror. Dain grinned at the crowd, Balekin at his back- united.

But something was wrong. The ground slowly began to quake, a deep rumbling in the Earth that made Cardan’s bones rattle. Dain looked shocked for only a moment before he began shouting off to the side. Though he couldn’t hear him, Cardan read his lips: Time for Phase Two.

Everyone began to move at once as the ground began to give way around them. Cardan leapt into the crowd, urgency tugging at every nerve in his body. He had to find her- his Jude. He had to make sure she was safe. The people jostled him as he shoved his way past. Everyone was running for the exits, desperate to escape as Elfhame collapsed into ruin around them. Was this part of Dain’s plan? To force everyone out of Elfhame and into the mortal city beyond?

Cardan could do nothing but scream. His eyes pored over the streaming bodies around him, searching desperately for any sign of her. Hopefully she was getting out. Cardan watched a large tree fall, crushing some of the escaping Faeries. Until finally he saw her- just a glimpse of the blue in the distance. That was all Cardan needed to rush for her.

As he reached her, Cardan realized that Jude was not moving. She stood, staring into the distance. “Jude?” At the sound of his voice, Jude’s head cocked in his direction. Cardan’s heart thundered in his chest. What kind of magic was this? He clamped onto her shoulders to make her face him. “JUDE!” Nothing, not even a glimmer of familiarity. More trees crumbled around them and the room was mostly empty now.

Cardan did what he had to- he picked Jude up and ran, tears in his eyes.

~~~

*present day*

Cardan woke, clutching at his chest as the dream- no memory- faded back into his mind. A touch to his face revealed the tears that accompanied it. His Jude. The moment Cardan had carried her into the mortal realm, Jude had awoken- with no memory of him. And five years later, her memories had no returned.

~~~

Tagging: @arwenundomiiels, @daddycardan, @andromeddea, @landofpetrichor, @ladyof-starlight, @nish247, @cute898, @fangirlinghard-spoilerson, @cardans-tail, @nitrot150, @outofstyles13, @an-teo520, @wickedqueenoffantasy, @afexiss, & @gamer670

[queenofmoons67]

AkaYona Ladies Week 2019: Festival

also known as “Our Kingdom Come”

@akayonaladiesweek​

SPOILERS for those who don’t know who Lili is!

Summary: Soo-Won never kills Il. Joon-gi, however, still wants Lili on the throne, and offers her hand in marriage to the heir. Considering Yona’s lack of interest in Hak, and severe interest in Soo-won, Il agrees. Yona/Lili arranged marriage AU.

Word Count: 1381

I do not own Akatsuki no Yona.

Thank you to my betas @tinydemondragon​ and @bookdancerfics​!

<------>

Princess Yona’s sixteenth birthday passes with almost no remark. It doesn’t need to be said that she is now of marrying age, and that whoever King Il chooses will share the rule of Kouka Kingdom.

Whispered in the halls of Kuuto, the imperial capital, is that Yona has not lost interest in Soo-won, and that she lacks any interest in Son Hak beyond that of friendship. No matter how much King Il hopes, that won’t change any time soon.

Spoken boldly in Suiko, the capital of the Water Tribe, is that General An Joon-gi wants his daughter, An Lili, on the throne—and she is merely a year older than the princess.

No matter how much King Il speaks of peace, he will not negotiate his only beloved daughter to foreign princes. But to another beloved daughter…

The week after Princess Yona turns sixteen hits like a tsunami.

<------>

“No!”

“Yona, please consider—”

“No!” The princess whirled around, purple eyes blazing. “Father, I have told you. I want to marry Soo-won!”

“And I have told you! A marriage with Soo-won is not possible. I have acknowledged you wouldn’t enjoy a marriage with Hak, and another possibility has been offered. I have accepted. An Joon-gi is a kind man, and I imagine his daughter is much the same.”

Yona scoffed and muttered something under her breath, twisting her hair savagely around one finger. Il fought to keep his face calm and composed.

“Did you have something to share?”

“No, Father,” Yona said. She stared him in the eyes and released her hair. “I will marry An Lili as you command, though I fail to see how that would further our kingdom’s interests—I sincerely doubt she has been raised to be King any more than I have.”

His daughter gave a bow, the perfect depth from a princess to her father, and walked away, back held ruler straight.

Il resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands. When Yona decided to use her lessons in womanhood, it sometimes seemed she grew two feet taller. Though… in this case, she was right as well. Joon-gi was just as protective over his daughter as Il was over his, so the idea that Lili could simply step into the role of king was a foolish one.

That would be rectified, Il decided, as soon as he could communicate as such to his general.

<------>

“Absolutely not,” Joon-gi declared. His robes swirled around him when he turned away, but not before Il saw his nose wrinkle as though tasting something bitter. “We will have to find some other solution—my daughter will not be burdened in such a way.”

Il sincerely wanted to do… something. Banging his head against a wall, as Geun-tae so frequently suggested, was much too violent. Perhaps scream into a pillow. Yes, that sounded nice.

“But,” Joon-gi continued, turning back around. “Maybe they can share the burden. They will be two queens, after all, not a king and a queen.”

An excellent plan coming together, on the other hand, sounded even nicer. “I believe we are ready to continue with negotiations,” Il beamed his widest smile. Taking on half of the king’s crown was Yona’s best option at the moment, with the threat of a marriage to Soo-won still lingering.

Sacrifices must be made, even when they are one’s own beliefs, for the sake of one’s daughter.

<------>

The next day, Il and Joon-gi set things in motion. The other generals and Soo-won all received personalized invitations to the wedding of Yona and Lili, and flyers were sent out all over Kouka announcing the soon-to-be new princess.

Meanwhile, in each of their castles, the two girls started new lessons in things such as politics and battle tactics. The generals would certainly be a large help once it was necessary for them to ascend the throne, but they would also need to be able to fend for themselves in court.

In that, Yona was more helpful than Il had hoped she would be. Offered lessons in the things her two closest friends considered interesting for the first time, she waded into the ocean of information, regardless of her lack of interest in the actual marriage.

The princess whirled from one side of the castle to another, from the library to a study and back again. Not even Soo-won could tear her away from her new responsibilities—but when it came to the actual wedding arrangements, Yona steered well clear. And when the day finally arrived, it was both the first time she saw the decorations, and the first time she met her betrothed.

<------>

Crown Princess Yona and Lady Lili married at the end of summer, with the leaves changing color and a chilly breeze rifling through clothes.

The wedding ceremony was complete and the celebrations begun, both royalty and generals seated at the head table when Yona shivered, and Lili risked a glance her way. Her eyes met purple and she flushed. Turning away swiftly, she pretended to examine the food on her plate. Most of it was already gone, eaten in an attempt to avoid talking to her new wife, but there was a tiny piece of meat left in one corner. Lili speared it with her fork and swallowed it in one bite.

“Hungry?” A soft voice asked.

Lili grabbed an apple from a nearby bowl, took a bite and, just to spite her father, spoke around it. “Starving,” she lied. A bit of apple peel stuck between her teeth, and she wiggled it with her tongue. It didn’t move.

“Would you like more?”

Lili took another bite and shook her head.

“Are you sure?”

“Pos—” Lili finally turned to see her new companion and froze. The new apple bite, which she had again spoken around, slid halfway down her throat and stayed there. Lili coughed, swallowed, and coughed again when the piece slid the rest of the way down. “Princess Yona,” she said roughly.

The princess beamed, though it didn’t reach her eyes, and twirled a strand of hair around her finger. “Princess Lili.”

Lili almost choked again, though there was nothing to choke on.

“I thought we could get to know one another,” she said, her smile somehow becoming even more fake, though the blush that painted her cheeks was certainly real.

Lili opened her mouth, but no words fell out. She closed it and huffed. She hated falling back on the expected. “Get to know what?” she asked.

Yona hummed, the sound rough but sweet, like water over rocks in a stream. “I don’t know. What do suitors usually talk about?”

“We’re married,” Lili laughed.

“Well, yes, but—and I hope you don’t mind—it doesn’t quite feel like that yet. Not what I imagined. And we won’t have to rule for years yet, if all goes well..."

“What did you imagine?” Lili murmured. She set the apple down, and her hands twisted together.

“Sweet comfort?” Yona said. “Familiarity, but heart racing. Trust. I—I would like to get there with you someday, Princess Lili.”

Turning in her seat, Lili folded one leg over the over and gave Yona her full attention. A blush bloomed hot across her own cheeks, and she just prayed it wasn’t as deep as the one Yona wore. “I would like to be there with you someday, Princess Yona.”

She offered the other princess a smile, then cursed herself when her blush deepened further as Yona’s smile softened. She didn’t look so strict and princess like like that. She looked—well, she looked like any other girl their age. Albeit a cold one, Lili amended silently when shivers racked her suitor’s body again.

“Cold?” she asked.

“Mm, freezing,” Yona muttered. Her hands messed with her clothes, trying to tighten them around her.

“Would you like a scarf?” Lili blurted. Turning, she waved as calmly as she could at where Ayura and Tetora stood guard. It still felt like she was making a fool of herself, flapping her hand all over the place, but oh well. Needs must. It got their attention—and when Tetora hurried back a few minutes later with her request, and she stood to drape it over Yona’s shoulders and got another smile back in return, she thought she might know what her suitor liked so much about heart racing.

<------>

Hey, I hope you all enjoyed!

This was a bit late, but I am going to do my best to participate as much this week as possible. 

[fromdecemberwithlove]

I hate Astoria.

I hate her with a burning fire, I hate her like she’s an actual person who had the fucking nerve to crash into my world and steal the most precious thing in my life. I hate her, I hate her, I hate her.

Because the real obstacle for a Draco/Hermione isn’t that they stood on different side of the war, it’s not his backward upbringing, isn’t his last name, isn’t her heritage, and it most definitely isn’t Ron. It’s Astoria fucking Greengrass.

Astoria was created solely for Draco. To give him a heart, to give him some simulant of redemption. Astoria Greengrass was the fuck you J.K.R gave to Dramione shippers all over the world. She looked at us and with absolute cruelty created Astoria out of fucking thin air and gave her Draco’s heart and stole everything good that we, WE, used for YEARS to build a Draco/Hermione relationship.

Because Hermione was supposed to be the one. She was supposed to be the one to find his heart. She was supposed to be the one to open his eyes. She was supposed to stand next to him and fight for him and stand up to his parents and the rest of the Wizarding World. Hermione made perfect sense.

But it wasn’t enough to just create a half backed substitute, no, no, too easy, too gentle, why stop there, right? J.K.R had to go and fucking kill the fucking bitch in the most Greek tragedy way possible just to drive the point further.

There, see what you’re going to do now that I made him love her like no other, that I created her to give him a son he cherishes more than anything, see what you can fucking do with your silly little stories and your plot twist and your ridiculous stories now that I killed this poor soul who only lived enough to give Draco Malfoy a heart and a reason to be better and killed her off so he can never, ever, love another woman the same way. Go, you pathetic little girls, go and try to pretend that you can still have him redeemed by Hermione when in canon he’ll forever mourn his wife, his wife that he loves, his wife that changed him for the better. Because you can’t win against a ghost.

And while some days I can forget about Astoria. While I can read fanfics and bask in the amazing, beautiful feeling that Dramione is the only thing that makes sense, sometimes my mind slips and Astoria is there and that fucking epilogue is there and the snippets I know about that stupid play are there and despite him enjoying being bossed around by our favorite bookworm, my heart hurts. It hurts because she could have put him with Pansy, because Pansy has always been there, Pansy is familiar, Pansy makes sense. Or she could have just fucking killed him off. It would have been so much better to just kill him off.

*sigh*

This is me just ranting so feel free to ignore me and go on with your day (or night, whatever), but today was one of those days where my mind remembered and the pain was too much so I had to let it out. I’ve been keeping it trapped in my head for years. I realize now that I shouldn’t have because that hatred just got worse and the physical ache that comes with it, that cuts me every time is more excruciating than ever.

I know that HP is a children’s book at its very core, and a love story the size of Draco and Hermione would have needed major changes and rewrites. I get all that. But I resent J.K.R all the same for slowly, methodically, killing any Dramione goodness from canon for years. As soon as she realized that people could picture her precious Hermione with the evil, loathsome Malfoy heir, she did everything she could to sway us another way. Long before she put Ron firmly and unequivocally in the way (because let’s not forget she established other stuff with Ron for year: Lavender, ridiculous jealousy, Draco almost killing his sorry ass, that elusive “third scent” in her Amortentia), she wrote that scene in the Manor. That horrible, terrible scene in the Manor. And although in fanfic we all like to rephrase his “…maybe…yeah” into uncertainty and remorse, he still said “yeah”.

He still gave her up, he didn’t give up Harry, but he gave her up. He could have said “no”, he could have said “I don’t know”, but he said yeah. And some might argue that he couldn’t deny it because his mother was there, prompting him with her recollection of Hermione from fucking forever ago, but I don’t buy it. That yeah, that was J.K.R jumping up and down in triumph, see children, doesn’t mean anything to him, he can offer her up because she isn’t important to him, your little broken soul believes Harry will defeat Voldemort so who the fuck cares if Granger dies here. That scene is perfect for a Drarry (I don’t read them but I’m just going to assume that ship loves that scene and for good reasons). I’m not even going to go into that disastrous scene on the tower…HBP is really a heartbreaking book for me. Not because I feel for Draco and what he had to go through, but because it was the beginning of the end. it broke my dramione shipper’s heart.

I won’t go into the whole Severus/Lily shitfest. It never made sense to me because Snape was always nasty and that sudden revelation about his undying love for his own “mudblood” just left a sour taste in my mouth. If anything, that should have been reason enough for a Draco/Hermione arc, not letting past mistake repeat themselves and all that jazz. But noooo. Here, kids, that’s what a real hero looks like, all hail Severus Snape and his oh so grand love for Lily Evans, now absolve him of everything, alright? No, lady, fuck that. At least Draco was never friends with Hermione when he called her that.

But I digress, this started with Astoria and now I’m on a tangent about J.K.R and her silly vendetta because she based Draco on some school yard bully from her childhood and we had the audacity to pair him with her perfect daughter. In the end, they are her books, her characters, her universe… but I’d be much less angry and salty about it if she’d done things with logic instead of out of spite. And that, at the end of the day, just leaves me feeling incredibly sad and a little hollow.

[fangirlinghard-spoilerson]

SECRETS & BETRAYALS (4)

Rated: M Wordcount: 1900 Summary: [Set after TWK] Much time has passed since Jude Duarte was exiled in the mortal world. But now she's back to Elfhame and Cardan will not like to discover her reasons for coming back. Is Jude still the Queen of Nothing? Other parts: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, (To be added) This is a The Folk of the Air’s Fanfic. The original work belongs to Holly Black.

A son. She said nothing more. It seemed the kind of news people need time to absorb. Fairies could not be so different.

Cardan froze. They stayed there for a moment, leaned against the other, too close - intimately close - to what was about for happen. His face was empty. But this time was not because he was hiding something. Her husband was in some kind of shock.

“I did not-” understand you? heard you? Lies that he could not tell.

There not much, between what she had done, that she would like to apologise. Neither, much fairies to whom she would like to apologise. It was not like she had not done many things that hurt others. It was more like she did not feel like she should carry the blame on her back for the most of that.

But their son was Cardan's first and - she knew - only kid. Fairy children were rare and he had lost all their son childhood. The guilt had being hitting her in the stomach ever since she discovery the pregnancy, because, even at that moment, she knew she would not come back to him.

She also felt fear. She was alone - no husband, no father, no sisters, no family at all - and in unsafe places having a unsafe job. And, at the same time, it was like knew about Madoc before open the door and see him for first time. Not that she thought Cardan was like Madoc or she was like Eva. They were not. Not at all. They had their own special way of messing up things between them. And they were very good at it, champions.

A thunderstorm began in the same moment Cardan backed off her. Even the noise of falling drops outside were high enough to wake those who were sleeping in Elfhame. The High King was not looking to his wife anymore. His gaze is lost in some place beyond his windows.

His Queen sited up and let him have his time.

“You are lying to me?” His question had not accusation. It was indifferent and confused. Yet, she felt a sting.

“He is clever and charming like you.”

She had bring photos - because one gaze to his son was enough to prove she was telling the true - and was about to give to him when he said, as if he had just understood one of the great life’s mysteries, “You left me because you was pregnant.”

The photographs almost slipped between her fingers.

“No.” She tried to be emphatic, but it did not seem enough. “I didn’t know when I left.” She could not even imagine how he'd come to that conclusion. As if he could think she wouldn’t want them get to know each other, as if she had not wanted help from Cardan to understand their son. His thoughts, desires and afflictions, which she had not been fairy enough to relate.

“If you knew, it would change anything?” She hadn’t an answer to that question because she had always refused to think of any hypothesis of discovering the pregnancy before leaving him. She did not know if she would still have the same courage, the same willpower. But she would like to have.

“We will not have a chance to find out.”

“And now you can be evasive like a fairy.” Cardan’s voice showed his disgust. What was ironic. She could lie with truthful words because every time she did, she thought how Cardan would say it? In some way, had been he who taught her.

He turned to her again, but he had not been able to recover his poker face. His pain and resentment were as obvious as an open wound. “Why you left me?”

“Cardan.” She tried warn him.

“No.” He grabbed her by the arms. His grip strong enough to hurt her. “You will responde me.” She did wrong, but she would not let him treats her poorly. With a simple movement learned when she was still young, before even meet him, she got rid of his grip.

“I didn’t want that life, Cardan.” For three years their relationship had been like this: he'd go to her when he could - because he was the High King and had appointments - and she had to decide between dropping everything that she was doing - sometimes delaying weeks of work - or losing the chance to see him without knowing when they would have another opportunity. She had taken the two options several times, every time she regretted it, no matter which she chose. “I wanted power and I always worked hard to have any, you know it. You really expected that I would sit there and wait for you?” That was no life for her. “You know me better than that.”

And he grinned like he had listen the best joke ever. “So fool of me think I would be enough.”

He was bitter. And bitterness showed something that she was too busy kissing him to realize before. The High King of Elfhame looked like a monster more than ever. His presence was in the air around them, spreading and taking up space. Absolute and domineering. Very similar to his father, but much more intensity. It was the same thing that make her feel happy about Eldred’s hand in her head when she bowed to him.

But she wouldn’t bow to Cardan.

“It wasn’t like that.”

“Please, Jude. We two know exactly why you married me. I let you think you would be Elphame's Queen.” But not for too long. She thought with tepid resentment. “And I did not let you have what you really wanted.”

‘True power isn't granted. True power can't be taken away’. Madoc had said the words, but it was Cardan who taught that lesson. And she had learned.

“I am a Queen.”

“In name, and in name only.” He mocked.

She realised this was not a conversation anymore, they were fighting again.

She putted the photos in the table hoping he looked in that direction.

He didn’t.

"And how did you create our son, dear wife? Is he as hungrypower, bloodthirsty and disloyal as you?” She could forgave him for said this much, but not for what he suggested next. “It must have been a difficult childhood with a mother like you."

Jude was a mortal mother raising a Faerie child alone in the midst of fairies. Nobody thought she was good enough for the task. That she deserved the honor of raise her own baby. Some tried to take him away from her. They had said “You will die in the  dawn of his life, why make him suffer like that?”

“You'll never insult me again by saying something like that. Our son was breastfeed by me. He was never barefoot or dressed in rags.” His eyes opened like plates. It was a surprise to him that she knew. “He was never neglected. He was protect and loved and cared. I was not perfect, but his childhood was as good as me and you will ever know.”

“You loves him.” That wasn’t a question and that was no need for an answer.

“I raised him well.” Her hands were in his shirt - clenched fists, tissue between fingers - and she had no idea how they end up there. She let him go. “Cardan you are curious about my motives to be here or you just want piss me off? I have more important things to spend my time on.” She tried a threat.

Cardan let his body lean against the back of the sofa as if he were relaxed. But she had already seen snakes about to strike more relaxed than him. But he gave her what she wanted.

Almost.

"Tell me, how had a son lead us to divorce? According to human customs, is not it quite the opposite?" It was a waste explaining to any fairy that just being a human does not attribute knowledge about mortal world. So she didn’t lost her time and patience trying.

“I have reasons to believe that he has been held hostage by Diarmuid.” A sharp gaze was the only sign of recognition that Cardan gave. There was no way he could not recognize it. The King Underground was one of his worst enemies. Their armies were facing each other on battlefields not so far from Elfhame. And the result of that war was uncertain.

“I assume you were not bragging about being the mother of a prince of Elfhame. So how he found that the boy is mine? And why are you thinking the ‘divorce’ can solve anything? Because that make no sense. According to the laws of the fairies the boy will continue to be my heir.”

His heir, which was exactly the problem.

“He did not find out yet. But Diarmuid will kill our son when he finds out.” It was not a question of 'if', that would happen sooner or later.

“If it is not because of me, what you have done to anger him?”

“Nothing.” He laughed theatrically.

“Jude,” He grinned “I know you better than that.”

And just because he was been rude, she responded without mercy. She spoke slowly, savoring the words and expression of shock on his face. “He proposed to me.”

A sequence of thunders filled what could have been a long silence.

“I need wine.”

That was her sign. She stood up. “And I need go back.” She was worried, Cardan did not seem very worried about their son. Not about kidnapping or about anything else. The only question that the father asked about his son had been just out of spite. Her family history was not the best, his was simply tenebrous.

“Why the rush? Late for your wedding?” He laughed without joy.

“I have to pretend to him that I didn’t discover it yet.”

“To him?” He pulled her gently until she looked at him. He was worried about her. “You are going to meet Diarmuid?”

“Not immediately, but yes. We have a meeting.”

“Jude, if he find out about us-”

“He would send my head in a pretty box to you with a nice letter.” She was not guessing. She knew better then him. “And because it seemed like he was losing focus, she said “And then  he would do the same with our son. But he will not find out. Not today or tomorrow.”

“How many time before he find out?”

She did not know. “I will be back tomorrow in sunrises. Do you prefer that I meet you here or in Shadow Court?”

“You will let me choose?”His eyebrows went up. “How nice of you.”

“I’m being nice.” He sighed deeply and all condescension vanished from his face.

He pulled her to him “So be nice to me one more time.” then kissed her again. It seemed like it's going to be a slow and careful kiss, but, before she could lost herself in it, he moved away leaving a feeling of something unfinished. Her legs trembled.

He was trying playing her.

“You cannot trust this to anyone besides Bomb and Roach. You have a leaking.”

“And how you know that?” An honest answer to that would take a lot more questions, so she simply ignored it.

And there is one much more important question that he had not asked. “Your son’s name is Bran.”

Thank you!

I need to make chapters shorter. From the next chapter, I'm just going to check who's on my tag lists because it's difficult and time-consuming to get all the names that appear in the notes.

If I may ask you, what is the best and the worst part of SECRETS & BETRAYS?

You can also read: Sinking and Fox Hunting Season.

TAG LISTS TFOTA: @lazyperfectionistteen, @afexiss, @thequeenofeveything, @nitrot150, @fangirling101, @thejiminsjamsowner​ S&B: @ashlightgrayson, @saea​

@ohh-idontcare​, @queenaelinash​, @scoutmedic66​, @just2809​, @shadowfeyartist, @agape12345​, @taryaofstars @izzroro​, @you-are-the-first-dream​, @gamer670​, @ysitsohardtofindaname​, @artemis1802​ @itsgabsposts-blog​, @t8astr8ng, @lexia3​, @ultra-youngsimmer​, @impossiblyglitterydreamland, @darkfriendheroduck​, @sanfranciscroc​, @cardansbishh​, @athousandlivesread​

[shazyloren]

Snowed In

Summary:  The Winter's storm traps Dany and Jon in a cavern, and it's not an atmosphere she'd gotten used to with Jon. Bran's reveal was proving tough to process...

Notes: As you know, I am taking part in a challenge on tumblr by user @jonerysfics and @mhysaofdragons in which for seven days from Valentines day I am uploading a new one shot. The prompts have been provided and the stories have all been written and I gotta say you're in for a lot of Jonerys content. So Day 5, 18th February, which is when I'm uploading this, the prompt I chose was 'Snowed In'. Argument's anyone?

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17841860

----

She knew they should not have embarked on the mission, but there had been sightings of stranded northerners on the kingsroad due west from Winterfell and now, a snow storm meant herself and Jon Snow, were trapped inside a cavern, waiting until the snow passed before they could get out and find the King in the North's subjects.

It would’ve have been okay, had the King in the North not been ignoring her for the past week after they had been told by his younger brother, Bran, that they were related. Jon Snow, King In The North, True Heir to the Iron Throne, hidden in plain sight under snow.

Daenerys had plenty of time to think on the revelation, and in all honesty wished there was some way she could curse her forgotten, older brother in the beyond for being a stupid idiot and causing a war which could have been avoid had both himself and Lady Lyanna told the truth.

The ruin of my house…

“We should get a fire going, if we’re here overnight we’ll freeze before we can see tomorrow” She states, brushing the snow out of her houses hair and reaching to the back of the horse and pulling some logs of wood they’re packed for the small journey. Daenerys wasn't going to put up with it if the moping continued.

They’d lost the men they’d rode out with, everyone going off in separate direction but Daenerys staying hot on Jon’s tail as not to be completely out in the wilderness by herself. She’d made a good decision, even if Jon was just communicating in grunts and huffs.

On cue, he sighs in frustration and they both begin to work away at setting up a camp inside the cavern, which when you had two horses inside it with you, did not make for much room. The half an hour they spend getting things set up gives Dany a chance to think things over.

She’d spent her life in foreign lands, running and fleeing, city to city for fear of death and the end of the last two remaining Targaryens. She hadn’t known a mother or father, she’d only know Viserys cruel contempt. Somehow, after all these years, on opposite sides of the world, she’d found someone, someone of her blood, someone she loved very much, someone who understand that outcast feeling.

The fall of her house, all of it was a lie. Robert Baratheon, the piggish bastard, thinking with his cock as so many men do. She did not love him back, she loved her brother, Rhaegar, a man who supposedly kidnapped her and raped her, a man who she was told by many that was a man who loved singing and playing his harp.

She did not know if the gods were real, in her eyes they were all vicious and spiteful, but there was something said of a destiny in which the last two dragons find each other and defeat the darkness that is coming for all of them. She always thought she’d marry Viserys, or perhaps Aegon had he been alive and the Targaryens still ruled.

Maybe if everything hadn’t gone wrong, she’d have married Jon anyways, cruel a fate to leave a boy in the dark for so long, in the frozen north and unaware of the power he holds, unaware of his birthright. But he’d would’ve been raised in the capital, like the royalty he was, like the dragon blood than ran through his veins. She would’ve too. Maybe they would’ve married, who knew?

“You should get some rest” His voice is void of emotion, an order more than a phrase of concern. It doesn’t sit well with Daenerys, in fact it make her want to unleash her tongue and give Jon a piece of her mind.

“I will”

That’s all she says, unrolling a padded mat so as she can lay down on it and sleep. She careful takes a seat by the fire, and feels the warmth roll over her skin. She looks into the flames of the fire and wonders if the day will come where she is burn by it. She feels steel look back at her and a resolute feeling sweeps across her skin.

I’m Daenerys of House Targaryen, and this idiot will listen to me .

“Okay, that’s enough” She decides. “We need to talk”

“I don’t think we do” He gruffs.

“Jon Snow, you will not continue to ignore your queen” She’s harsh but it’s called for. Her gaze catches his and in the firelight, she sees a wall he’s built up around himself. She wants to be able to communicate with him. “We are to lead our people into safety, lead them away from danger and defeat that oncoming storm together and you can’t even look at me?”

Jon is frozen in his spot.

“Are you ashamed of me? Is that it?” She demands to know, she can take the heartache if he’s ashamed of it, but she is not. She loves him and he knows it, they both do. But the fact that he was blocking her out completely…

“No, of course I’m not ashamed of you, ” He softens slightly.

“Then stop shutting me out” She demands again.

“I’m not, I really not trying to” He softens more.

“Then stop acting like you can’t even look at me, it hurts, Jon. Please tell me why you are shutting me out?” She’s brave, even if tears threaten to be exposed to their cold encounter. “Does it occur to you that I am in the same boat as you? That finding out your heritage is as much of a difficult thing to process for me? Perhaps not…”

“You don’t understand” He countered. “It is different for you”

“How?”

“It just is, okay?” He throws his hands up in defence, his voice hoarse and gruff. “All my life I’ve dealt with the shame that came with being a bastard, yes a high born bastard, but a bastard nonetheless. Lady Catelyn treated me like horse shit and I never blamed her for it, I got to the Night’s Watch thinking things would be different, a place full of outcasts, and it wasn’t. I was abused for that word, and it was all for nothing. All the shame that came to our family, all the horror it has endured is because, that piece of Baratheon Horsepiss couldn’t use his eyes instead of his pecker!”

“Jon-”

“And I don’t mean to speak ill of the dead, I really don’t, but my mother died birthing me, she was alone, she had no one! All because that man meddled in a love he didn’t understand, all because he killed my true father. My father, died with my mother’s name on her lips, that's what Bran said, his rubies floating in the river, and never knowing a son that he would have. Everything that wretched King did, House Stark was over as soon as he was crowned”

“But House Stark isn’t over, it’s stronger than ever and under tremendous leadership. And where are the Baratheons? Dead in the ground where the usurpers belong!” She scooted over to sit closer to him. “He hunted me down too, remember? A girl pregnant with a son, a girl no older than his own son, and he sent assassins to stab her in the belly. I have as much reason to hate that man as you do, but there is no point anymore, he’s dead. And we’re alive”

“And related, he never suspected” Jon never striked Dany as a man who would process feelings well, and yet so much of why she liked him was because of his kindness, his moral compass. And that wouldn’t change, she loved him all the same.

“I don’t care that you have Dragon blood, I don’t care that you have a higher claim than me to the throne, I care about you, only you” She warms her hands by the fire. “I always thought I’d marry my brother, and then I was alone. I’m not alone anymore”

The truth rang through the room like a bell clear as day. It was one she was hoping would be clarified, and she knew he couldn’t deny the attraction and affection he had towards her too. You’re an idiot, Jon Snow, but I understand you so well.

“My lord-father lied to me” He says out the blue.

“To protect you” Daenerys countered.

“I know that” He huffs again. “Doesn’t make me any less unhappy about it”

“This truth, is difficult to process. I found you, across the entire world and living completely separate lives, and I still found you. We were meant to meet, Jon, we were meant to save this world together and start a new one, where we’re all free and where justice and democracy matter. No lions and Krakens or Snakes and Eagles, just the Dragons and the Wolves, ushering in a new era of peace”

She placed her hand on his knee, wanting to touch him like they had each other so many times before. But she’s gentle, loving like a woman could be and as forgiving as she’s ever learned to be. “I don’t want any part of the throne, or power. I never have”

“I know, but it is your destiny, Jon Snow”

“Destiny is what you make it, all I try to do, is the right thing” He shrugs.

“Then you might want to start by being nicer to your future wife and family” She kisses him softly on the cheek before laying down on her mat and preparing herself for a wait until the snow storm let up. Could be hours or a few days, but at least that issue was resolved.