#Its there more to be a show of what would have happened between Conall and Arlo if Conall was an enabler instead of a paragon

[bitchfitch]

I've had to make a spreadsheet to keep track of the vignettes. and I'm pretty certain over half this book isn't going to be about Conall and Arlo. This format really gives me room to play with the whole time fuckery that happens around Arlo so the connections between sections are going to be more about themes vibes and flow than linear story progression. Like I'll make a key that sorts all 7 ish timelines linearly within themselves and another that sorts them all into one timeline. Because a good portion of these happen concurrently.

Like, A scene might play from Arlo's pov and ten sections later you'll get it from Conall's. and while that's happening the two different versions of Asena are both doing their own thing at that same moment.

Also there's 2 Asena's now. one of them isn't happy about it but the other doesn't know that other version of herself exists.

[ardenssolis]

@caemthe​ said (inbox):

[ fantasy, conall ] The mactíre yawned and scratched the back of his head as he made his way to table where all the important documents were, not caring about the bad image he was giving to his 'guest'. His ears were ringing and his vision hurt from the constant lack of sleep, but he didn't show anything more than annoyance. "Alright, so let me get this straight. You're not an offering from Sunnyland or whatever your homeland is called to try to make me and my guys leave the trade routes alone. But the actual princess, who is now making demands and throwing a tantrum in my tent?" King, he had heard the stranger say it before but he still chose to call them princess. After all, they were as pretty as one and he liked how those golden orbs threw daggers at him whenever he said it.

Conall snorted. "I'm not sure you're aware of the position you are in, princess. Making demands isn't gonna work well for you in the long run. Because, let's be honest, for how long do you think your little kingdom will manage to stay self-sufficient? It doesn't have to be like that tho. If you give me a good reason to leave, then I will. If you don't, then I might start pillaging the villages and the outskirts of the capital." He wasn't so needlessly cruel all the time, but... the way that man looked at him as they knew him... he wasn't very fond of it.

      IT WAS HARD TO believe this was CONALL – the Conall he had known since he had been a mere boy, bright-eyed and still unaware of the world around him. There was no recognition in his gaze when he looked upon Ozymandias, and if anything, his eyes were…empty. There had been life in them that had reeled him in back then, had captured his attention and his heart as he had looked upon the other with awe, for he had never met anyone like them. Even as the years had passed since the destruction of the Land of Wolves, not once had he ever encountered anyone who was so similar to a tempest like they had been. But this man in front of him…this wasn’t Conall, was it? It couldn’t be. However, those eyes were unmistakable even with the countless years that had passed. Why was it, then, that they didn’t recognize him? Why was it, then, that they treated him like a stranger? It frustrated Ozymandias to no end, made him question whether he was looking for something that was never there in the first place. Maybe he just assumed this man was someone familiar to him and nothing more...?

     Hopeful thinking, perhaps…

     ❝I wish you would cease with calling me a princess when I have clearly stated many times exactly what I am. Anyway, that aside, unlike those you stop on the road and force to pay a toll, I refuse to bend the knee to you. You will leave this area and you will go elsewhere.❞ They had been parked here for too long – cutthroats and criminals growing fat from their tributes, drinking to their heart’s content each and every night as if they were kings of the world. If Ozymandias had to, he would form a temporary alliance with one of his neighbors to chase this issue out. If they happened to run elsewhere and cause problems in a different kingdom, well – that wasn’t his business unless it effected him personally. ❝I need not tell you a ‘good reason’ to do just that.❞ He could not go along with any demands the other had to offer. If he did that, even a little, his sovereignty would be called into question. To the older officials from his father’s rule, he would be no different from a pup with its tail between their legs and would no longer be taken seriously. Thus, he had to continue his part as the strong leader.

     He could be nothing but.

[prismadog]

I kinda had a suggestion for your au,

So if you don't want to read it, this is your time to delete this ask,

But yeah, maybe Xornoth hasn't been completely corrupted when Scott's people sends them to the nether

As in like, he is definitely very corrupted and evil, but it's not too late for him to become human again

And then [insert something involving Shrub] happens and he is presented the choice of becoming human again and unlocking all the power of exor, at the cost of turning away from his humanity forever

why wouldn't I want to read a suggestion? I love talking to people! and I'd love to hear any feedback, comments, or suggestions!

ooh...I love this idea so much already!

I haven't thought too much about the end game yet but I have thought a bit about pre-exile Xornoth and it's pretty much what you said: maybe they're not fully corrupted and there's a chance for him to return to his former self.

EDIT: this is a quick message from after typing out the below post. I somehow ended up coming up with an end game, idk how that happened but it did. it's not exactly like you suggested but I hope it satisfies well enough. I really loved your ask btw.

also, this is fairly long so I'm putting a "keep reading line below". I think I might have also sort of written a story here? like, I meant for this to be just a little response but...it's not. it's practically a story for how things will go down. obviously, it'll need work, but it's a start!

.

pre-exile chance

my thoughts: there was one moment when Xornoth really questioned their actions, questioned their blind faith to Exor, questioned how they became a monster when all they wanted was to be the beloved hero that their brother Alinar is.

that moment, it was when they were banished from their home, but before they were exiled to the Nether. the people wanted them gone and they turned to their brother for help, they wanted Alinar to keep the people from banishing them. the moment where Xornoth questioned everything was when Alinar turned his back on them.

they moved to the caves and questioned every single little thing they've ever done - where had they gone wrong? why wasn't Alinar proud of him? maybe...maybe everything they were doing wasn't so good after all.

I believe that if when Alinar had found his brother again, if he had asked Aeor for aid in saving his brother instead of banishing them for good, there would have been a chance for Xornoth to return to his former self. but no, Alinar had to go and remove that chance entirely from the equation and exile his brother in the Nether.

* I'm using the Clash of the Great Stags as reference for that part above. I'm leaving Conal & Alinar's canon story as history for the AU versions, though, there might be a tweak or two in the future, who knows?

but. after reading your suggestion and having a good long think about this...maybe there is still a chance, even after Alinar turned his back on his brother.

so...I'ma gonna hash things out here.

.

hash out chance

we the fans know that there's going to be some form of "final battle" between the rulers and Xornoth - the same will be true for the AU as well. it'll be Xornoth, Sausage, Joey, and Shrub against everyone else - though, for Shrub, she doesn't want to fight, she doesn't want to see anyone get hurt, she just wants everyone to get along. but she knows that no matter what she does, everyone will end up at the final battle, ready for war.

but before that, there's a lot of moments where, like in canon, everyone is trying to find a cure for the corruption plaguing their lands. Shrub is no different, except, she pushes more towards a cure for people, for the demon themself.

Katherine, Scott, and Gem are more than willing to help her find a cure - they don't really know why Shrub is so insistent on curing the demon, she only ever vaguely tells them her reasons, but they're still going to help her because they're her friends.

during this, Scott will talk to Aeor, wondering if there is a way to cure the corruption at its source - the demon - without shedding any more blood.

Aeor, I know he's supposed to be a good god, believing in peace and equality - and he is a good god, but...I don't think he would want to resolve things between him and Exor peacefully. in the story I linked, he pretty much jumped right into a fight with Exor without hesitation

so, that being said, I don't think things would be any different even if his champion was looking for peaceful solutions. I believe Aeor would want Scott to take up arms against Xornoth and fight for him, to end the corruption once and for all.

Scott would be reluctant of course, torn between his god's wishes and helping his friends. so, maybe he does both - he'll try to help his friends find a cure for the demon but he'll also prepare for the inevitable final battle.

Shrub and her friends work tirelessly trying to find a cure, making several different potions, and each one Shrub takes home with her and gives them to Xornoth. they're reluctant to take the potions but they'll do anything for their gnome, even if it means turning their back on their god and giving up all the power Exor gifted them.

so, Xornoth tries every different potion given to them, even though not a single one has any effect on them, until all options are completely eliminated and the rulers run out of ideas. at that point in time, there is no other choice except war - war between the gods, between their champions, between people who were all once friends but are now on opposing sides.

maybe this is where Shrub breaks completely, at the moment when the others give up. maybe she begs them to keep trying - just one more potion, that's all we need, the next one will be the right one, I just know it, please keep trying, please don't give up yet, we have to keeping trying.

they'll question her on why she wants the demon cured so badly, they'll question despite knowing that she's only going to dodge every question asked.

but this time. this time Shrub doesn't dodge. this time, she stops giving vague answers and she stops telling lies that leave her with a pit in her stomach. this time, she breaks. this time, she tells them the truth. this time, she tells them the story of her life, her connection to the demon and how Xornoth is like a father to her - tending to her injuries, telling her stories, teaching her so many things, but most of all, loving her unconditionally.

she begs their forgiveness for lying to them for so long, begs them to help her find a cure for the only family she's ever known, begs them to not give up yet.

the other rulers would obviously be shocked, some might walk away feeling hurt and betrayed, some might come to Shrub and accept her as the child of the monster that plagues their lands. those that do accept her, they comfort her and she comforts them. they might all keep trying to make a cure, despite how hopeless it seems - they've already failed so many times, what more can they do?

Xornoth would have the same thoughts - what more can the rulers do? everything they tried, every potion made, has failed and it's just going to be more of the same. so, they make a decision, the demon seals their fate, the demon makes the call for war.

they go into the final battle reluctantly, knowing that there's only one true way to cure them and wishing that it didn't have to be with their death. they go into that battle hoping their little Shrub - their sweet, kind girl who showed them a better way of living - will be okay when they're gone. they know that her friends will be there for her so she should be okay, she can survive.

the two sides face off. no one wants to fight. Shrub, though she stands on the side of the rulers, is torn between her friends and her family. everyone there knows that the speeches given by the rulers of the Overworld are a poor attempt at staving off the inevitable.

Xornoth wants to be the one to throw the first punch, to get the ball rolling, get this fight done and over with, but they see their gnome, their beloved child, staring at them from across the battlefield, and she's crying. the battle hasn't even started and yet, she's mourning their death.

they don't attack. they stay their hand. they stand down. they move forward, hands up and open, free of any weapon, and walk gladly towards their demise. no one moves, all are still as the demon approaches, the usual sinister grin replaced by a grimace of heartache.

the demon stops before them, before their little Shrub and before the elf that looks so much like the brother they lost. Xornoth kneels at their feet, they say their parting words of love to their gnome, then they bow their head and tell Aeor's Champion to make it a quick death and please, if you could do me one favor, please don't let Shrub watch, please don't let her be here.

Shrub tries to go to her father's side, tries to beg them not to do this - there's still time, we can still find a way, please don't do this, please don't give up. Katherine and Gem hold her, embrace her in a way that her eyes are shielded from the bloodshed that's soon to come. they look to Scott, he's the one with the powers of a god that can rival the demon's darkness.

Scott is shaking where he stands but it's not from fear. he stands before the demon, above the monster that's terrorized his friends, and in his hands is the weapon that will strike the final blow and end everything. he had thought for a long time that Alinar was right in his actions, following the path Aeor laid out before him, banishing the only family he had to another world.

but standing here, knowing what he knows now about his friend Shrub, what he knows about himself as Aeor's Champion and about his past life as Alinar - he knows that Alinar made the wrong choice, he knows that there is a better way.

Scott, knowing that his next action is going to displease his god, drops the blessed weapon given to him and says - No. he kneels before the monster and says - You will not die today. he embraces the brother he never knew and says - We will find a cure.

this is where Aeor has a choice to make - enact justice on the crimes committed by Exor - or forgive his sins.

the Stag God follows his Champion's lead and chooses forgiveness. he stands before his own brother and chooses to end the war they've fought for eons.

with this, the corruption dies around them and Conal is freed. the demon melts away and an elf emerges from its remains. Conal embraces their brother come back to life and relishes in the life he's been gifted.

Shrub breaks free from her friends and practically crushes her family - both her father and Scott - with an embrace of her own. she cries enough tears for the both of them, though, Conal comes pretty close to out-crying their child.

and with that, the war is over, the demon is defeated, and the Overworld can live in peace once again.

[eternalstrigoii]

Peacemaker

Conall (Maleficent: Mistress of Evil) x Human!Reader x Borra (what, did you think I’d miss an opportunity like this? You can pry my copious ship garbage out of my cold, dead hands.)

                     It took much more coaxing on your part than you anticipated, a lot more mental gymnastics than you wanted to do, and a considerable dose of sweet-talking.

I want unity, you’d whispered. I want peace. Before, during, and after, I will still be yours.

You said nothing of the fact that you were afraid you’d driven a wedge between them. That it was harder for you to comprehend, being socialized by others of your own kind rather than theirs, that you could even propose such a thing without it coming at the cost of grave consequence. (You were more adventurous than you thought you were, though you still felt, to a degree, like it was sexual treason.)

Ini of the desert and Shrike of the jungle did not feel the same way, when you told them. You didn’t expect either to be your friend, skilled warriors that they were, but you made foods they’d never eaten before, and your novelty had yet to wear off, so they kept you company from time to time. You told them of how you’d heard (secondhand only, because the human world did not operate like theirs with any guarantee of truth or validity in stories told) of nobility engaging in such indulgences – only the rich and royal could do so freely and without consequence, and that was only if their lovers were apathetic. You’d heard of duels fought over women, brother against brother, friend against friend.

They both laughed at you for so long you’d flushed from your temples to your chest and you hadn’t said another word on the subject.

Not to them, anyway.

So, there you were. You wished you could’ve chosen a neutral meeting ground, but you hadn’t. You wrung your fingers while you stood, restless, in a sheer, flowery dress that was the green of spring, tied loosely behind your neck.

You didn’t hear the near-silent breath of wings as he landed beside you; the barely-there sound of his feet on the soft earth. Had you chosen somewhere else, perhaps you would’ve. But he liked the sight of you, your dark hair loose around your shoulders, the way your thin fabric clung to your curves. (He claimed to have thought about you only once, only to see if he could tolerate the thought, but his eyes traced the indentation of your spine and it was strange to see a body not framed by wings.)

“You meant it, then?” he said, and you jerked back so abruptly you nearly startled out of your skin.

“Stars, Borra! Don’t do that!” Your hand went over your heart and you pushed his chest – lightly, not that it would’ve moved him even if you gave it force.

He made that sound that you still weren’t sure what it meant – whether it was aggression or pleasure or just simple acknowledgement. You noticed the way he moved, how he instinctively shifted his weight to his heels before he approached you, closing all distance between you as though he, too, intended to shield you with his wings.

You dared keep your eyes lifted as he leaned in close to breathe you in. He caught a lock of your hair on his talons, and you considered the possibility that he might just take you right then and there.

He gave you a low purr-hum of approval. “You do.” You couldn’t avoid the satisfaction in his voice. “How does Conall feel about this?” he asked, as though he didn’t press his hand between your thighs to stroke the wetness at your center regardless. Your eyelids fluttered and your breath caught. He was so warm. “Hm? His little human, playing peacemaker.”

You were more adventurous than you thought you were; Borra was mildly dangerous. You kept telling yourself that he scared you, even though you were painfully aware that his rejection was the part that scared you most. You whimpered, your hand coming to rest on his arm as he slipped one taloned finger inside of you. Rocked it slowly. And then, like he just had to prove to you how aggressive his pursuits could be, he held your gaze as he withdrew from you, leaving you at the brink of whining at your emptiness, and tasted you.

Your hips rocked lightly of their own volition.

His eyes darkened, locked with yours. You shouldn’t have felt your pulse between your legs, and yet you did. You wished he would’ve teased you, tested you, baited you, but no – he swept you up against him like you weighed nothing and kissed you like you were his.

You were painfully aware of your legs spread over his thigh and how easy it would’ve been for you to betray yourself with your arousal. You arched to try to keep away from the light fabric of his trousers, pressing closer to his chest in the process. The fabric of your dress was thin and he touched you right through it, cupping your breast, caressing down your stomach. You hardly noticed that you caught his lower lip between your teeth like you were biting your own.

He did. He boosted you on his forearm, kissed you harder. His tongue was in your mouth and his claws in your hair. You shivered; everything felt cooler than it should’ve outside of the sphere of his body heat.

You wanted unity. You wanted peace. You wanted to believe you could foster love instead of war, and you’d had no idea that he would be a willing and enthusiastic participant.

You should’ve done this sooner.

He carried you into your nest like he belonged there. The tension in your nerves that ebbed when he started touching you flared anew, but not for long – their senses were keener than yours, and you knew your almost-husband’s more temperate touch. You were settled on his lap, and you shivered at the sensation of their temperature contrast – you shivered at the thought that this had gone so well so far; you were no longer certain that you were the first to propose it.

But you must’ve been. Conall undid the fabric at the back of your neck and let the rest fall open. You were his; as long as his brother respected that, there could be unity.

For someone who spent the last several months claiming to have no attachment to you whatsoever, Borra’s eyes ran over you like he had never seen anything like you before. You knew where you were different from the others – the sharpness of many of their features were softened in you, and you were painfully aware of what you lacked in regards to mobility and defenses.

There was nothing cold or cutting to be said, now. The look they exchanged over your head warmed you; you were no one’s conquest, no spoil of war, you had chosen to be there, with them, of your own volition. Not only was he willing to acknowledge that, but you deliberately pretended you didn’t see the pride in Conall’s eyes, even if you couldn’t help but lean in to the kiss he pressed to your temple.

“I trust that she knows what she’s doing.”

Borra made that sound again. He ran his hands over you, from your knees up your naked thighs, over practically all the rest of you. “You always did like soft things.”

The warmth of love returned to desire without warning you of its transition. You couldn’t very well expect Conall to sit back and watch, but that was what he did. He’d needed convincing, before the sight of his brother on his knees between your thighs was a reality. You gasped, instinctively offering yourself for the intrusion of Borra’s tongue.

“You really have no survival instincts,” he purred against your skin. He kissed you at your apex, at one of the focal points of your pleasure, and you couldn’t resist rocking your hips and gripping Conall’s thigh as you moaned.

He flicked his tongue over you. Kissed you again. Watched your face while you worked your hips. “Gutsy little thing. You like this, don’t you?”

You quaked when he pushed his fingers back inside of you – two of them, and they curled as though he intended to gather more of your wetness to taste. He moved them in rhythm with your hips, pressing kisses to where you parted around him, to your inner thighs and then along your waist. You arched toward him, offered yourself.

You trusted him, whether or not you’d admit it to one another. You trusted that even he would be kind enough to only offer you pleasure.

“Nerves like a warrior.” He kissed your stomach in a slow ascent. You were grinding on his fingers, whimpering. You felt Conall’s hand on your hip and you whined out loud in lieu of words – please, don’t let me stop.

“Shh.” He thumbed the place where you always used to ache. “Give him a chance to know you as I do.”

“Mm.” Borra open-mouth traced his lips over your ribs, and you shook with pleasure when he brushed his thumb over you just to tease. “Is that all it takes to get you undone? Little anticipation, little teasing?”

You arched at the retreat of his fingers only to be guided back into place. You couldn’t recall having ever been asked to wait before, and you thought it might be the worst thing that had ever happened to you – arrow in your side included.

Borra nudged your chin up. Kissed you again. It was soft, lingering, open-mouthed; your lips parted for his tongue and got his slick-coated fingers for your trouble.

You closed your lips around them anyway. Your eyes fell half-lidded, and the purr-growl sound he made was echoed by your Conall.

Perhaps you weren’t the only one doing all the convincing.

You let him guide you, let him move them in your mouth. Your tongue rose to fit to the indentation of his talons and you swore his tension was palpable. You flicked it lightly against the pads of his fingers, shifting ever so slightly forward.

You didn’t want him to be tense. You didn’t expect to make a show of yourself, but if it would please them both, perhaps there was no more suitable option.

It might’ve been the first time he let you approach him. Your touch was gentle, even when it became clear that you had no idea how to unfasten his armor.

He did it for you, much to your surprise. You didn’t think he’d let it come off, but he was the one to form what would become the collective pile of your clothes – even his trousers, though you’d planned on taking those off yourself.

“Come here?” you asked in your sweetest tone.

Both of their eyes were locked on you; Conall shifted closer to you, and you motioned for him to sit up better, if not join you outright. “I want you both.”

Borra ran his hand through your hair in praise for that. Of course you do. A human’s place was on their knees.

You kissed Conall like you weren’t already on display, like you had so many times when silent beckoning for him to come join you in your bed wouldn’t convey your urgency enough. You offered him your parted lips without remembering that your tongue tasted of you, and you weren’t surprised in the slightest when it earned you a lower, hotter growl in response.

You imagined you could tempt them by withholding satisfaction, so you pulled away before his kiss could deepen any further, and pressed your lips just below Borra’s jaw.

He practically purred.

You kissed a path down his chest, let your hands wander over him. He moved to press you closer, let you linger, so you returned to your partner. You removed Conall’s chest-plate, traced your lips along the familiar path of his warrior’s markings. You flicked your tongue over one of the feather-shaped accents and felt his hand come up to tangle in your hair.

You pretended you didn’t notice the way his eyes cautioned you. Under this specific circumstance, he was rather short on patience.

That was perfectly fine with you.

You were as equitable as you could be, moving from his chest to Borra’s stomach, letting your lips linger at his waist. Your eyes flickered up to your beloved, to watch hunger grip him in new and beautiful ways, and then you looked up at his brother, who didn’t buy your false innocence one bit.

You kept up your wide-eyed façade, though, even as your tongue darted out to taste him as he had you. All of him was warm, and though parts of him were stone-hard, that particular point of your focus was quite familiar.

“Go on,” he coaxed. “You can’t lie to me with those doe-eyes.”

You kissed him, sweetly, and took absolutely no small measure of pleasure in the sound he made when you flattened your tongue and stroked along his underside.

When he looked at Conall, you imagined that you might’ve done more to combat his prejudice with just your hands and your tongue than years of arguing could accomplish.

You had to console your beloved for that.

You were less restrained where you were familiar; your hand rested on Conall’s thigh, and you pretended not to notice Borra gathering your hair from your shoulders. You pretended not to notice that he settled behind you where you knelt, lowered to the earth to fit his body against yours, and you definitely didn’t shiver when his hot breath fanned your shoulder.

But you moaned out loud when he sunk his teeth in.

You imagined they must’ve arranged this just as you had tried to; discussed it between themselves with enthusiasm neither initially offered you. You imagined that they had because you would’ve reeled too hard to believe that Borra could join with you without hesitation, grip your hip to keep you in place while he settled his heat and his weight inside you. You shivered at the unusual contrast of your body and his, and you couldn’t even consider what you must’ve looked like – your eyes fluttering, your lips parted, your head tipped back and hair wrapped around his hand while he darkened the bruise of his love-bite.

In the human world, wars were fought over the desire to bed specific women. Even you, on your little farm in the middle of nowhere, heard of Helen of Troy – the kings and the armies that moved against one another all because two men wanted her.

There was no fighting over you. Not even when he groaned out loud and started to move within you. It was more firm, more enthusiastic, than you were used to, but nowhere near unpleasant. You felt your skin flush with renewed shyness; you tried to lower your eyes, but Conall held your chin. He stroked your lower lip with his thumb.

“Is peace all that you imagined?”

You did not know if he spoke to him or to you. You didn’t know if you could form a coherent response, anyway; you felt you could add another ability to the list of their universal magical gifts.

You didn’t expect intimacy. You didn’t expect to be shared, though Conall released you so Borra could kiss you, and it was hot and hard and hungry and you linked your fingers in his hair to kiss him back. His talons traced a path from your chest to your waist that you imagined, in a flicker of darkness, could’ve easily split you open.

He didn’t handle you like you were fragile - though, even then, it wasn’t rough. Not in the way that garnered worry.

You were shared more readily than you could imagine. You were gathered with familiar gentleness, lifted, though the part of your body from his made you flutter, and you clung to Conall with renewed enthusiasm.

He lay down with you astride him, eased you into place at his waist. You rested your hands on his stomach and rolled your hips, rising and falling with the shallow echo of your breath.

“Beautiful,” you thought you heard right before Borra placed another love bite on your opposite shoulder – like the well-earned marks on your almost-husband.

Oh, skies, not coming undone was difficult.

Your legs were shaking. You moved like that between them, shared in instances, as though you could miraculously hold yourself together. You were panting, trembling, your eyes half-unfocused. You blamed Borra’s heat at your back for the flush in your skin but it started while Conall was moving inside of you and you just. Could not. Fathom. How you were supposed. To endure.

You weren’t aware of the sweet, lovely sounds you made or how plaintive and inviting you sounded. You didn’t fully notice the glance they exchanged – the quirk of mischief in Conall’s brow or the impish smile that spread, too quickly, across Borra’s lips. You were, however, quite coherent when it came to Borra’s arm across your chest, the hungry descent of his mouth on yours, and the way his hips snapped up to meet yours like you could handle their attention much longer.

You weren’t supposed to.

He imagined what it would be like to make you scream. He didn’t know how sweet of a sound it would be, how warm and soft you would become after. He couldn’t have imagined in his wildest dreams that he could feel the thrum of your pulse through your whole body, from your throat (where he kissed) to your chest, to your belly, to where your skin met his. He understood much more easily than he’d anticipated why Conall had returned to you night after night after night for months on end.

He stopped your hips from rocking against his. You didn’t feel you were supposed to enjoy the flush of heat within you like you did, but you did, and you were still trembling when you were offered – when you were exchanged, this time much more gently – from his brother’s grasp to his.

Conall let you wilt against him like a plucked flower. He kissed you softly – your brow, your cheek, your lips – before the slow and measured roll of his hips made you strangle a half-animal sound of your own. You loved that about him, the way he moved with you the way water laps at the hull of a boat, and you also knew that he did it intentionally then.

You truly, genuinely, did not have the presence of mind to respond in any more sensible way than to cling to him. You also didn’t have the muscle strength, but they shouldn’t have expected you to – they were the warriors, not you.

“Is it too much?” he murmured near your ear.

You gripped him more tightly than you ever had; if he stopped, you’d scream, and not for any pleasant reasons.

Borra laughed from where he’d settled beside the both of you, and patted your thigh like it would rally your nonexistent strength. “I should have let you go first.”

The purr in his voice was too much. You were already quivering and you dropped your head to his shoulder like you could control yourself.

But Conall was always good to you, and he didn’t leave you waiting. You were shivering like you’d plunged, naked, into a tundra snow-bank. You didn’t think there was any tension left in you to carry you to satisfaction for another round, but, no – pinprick stars danced in front of your vision when the sudden tightness in your belly made you forget to breathe.

He smiled much too widely while he rubbed your back. Though he breathed heavily, neither of them were in the state you’d landed yourself in. You couldn’t deny that he was holding back laughter any more than you could pretend Borra wasn’t already laughing at you under his breath. “Are you alright?”

The sound you made was supposed to be a yes, but your main interest was in immediately laying down. You were warm and full and tired and rather messy and you had no desire to get up and take care of that yourself. None whatsoever.

Conall’s chest shook with laughter, and it did things at the union-point of your bodies that made you whine and clutch his shoulders.

“Should I apologize?” he gathered back your hair and kissed either bruise left on your shoulders.

“She asked,” Borra offered.

You shook your head. Your eyes were drooping and you felt well and thoroughly limp. “M’sorry?”

“Don’t be.” He guided you to lay down against his chest. You were safe, there, in the blanket of his wing and the cradle of his arms, and you regretted how quickly you fell asleep.

You did not regret waking up, however briefly, in the middle of the night.

You had been cared for while you slept, bathed and covered with a thinner blanket of soft hide. Conall was asleep at your back, his body against yours so familiar that you nearly drifted off without consideration for anything else – like the warmth against your front, or the very much awake amber eyes still regarding you as you blinked.

“Back to sleep,” Borra soothed on a whisper, carding his talons through your hair.

“D’you like me now?” you muttered, and you would’ve kicked yourself for it had you been conscious enough to realize what you asked.

“No,” he said, much too firmly. It made you frown, even as your eyes closed. “You are our family, Rose. I may never be to you what he is, but I do love you.”

“Love me,” you muttered, like you’d have the sense to remember it in the morning. “Love you too.”

You were asleep before the ghost of a smile crossed his lips, though you were faintly aware of the touch of his warm lips to your forehead. “I know you do.”

[caemthe-a]

     So I ended up reading Kinsella’s Táin in a day (something I should’ve done first since it’s far more comprehensible than older translations, but I’m didn’t because I’m a dumbass) and here are some details I didn’t pay much attention to when reading other translations until yesterday and also other things because I find them extremely amusing: 

It’s all Conchobar’s fault ngl.

The Táin properly starts on a Monday after Samain’s feast (Oct. 31) and ever since Cú never slept “unless against his spear for an instant after the middle of the day, with head on fist and fist on spear and the spear against his knee” (p.143, yes I put page because I’m annoying like that) until a Wednesday after Imbolc’s feast (Feb. 1), which means that Cú had been fighting the enemy armies without sleeping for MONTHS.

Until Cú was badly wounded so Lugh (aka Cú’s father) appeared to watch over him and heal him while Cú slept. Cú slept for 3 days and 3 nights. (Must’ve been some awkward days for Láeg since he was there too). That also meant that Ulster was defenseless against its enemies but Uster’s boys’ troop (150 young boys who were training to become warriors under Cú’s guidance) fought and they were all slaughtered. But they were no mere children because they managed to kill 3 times their own numbers. Absolute legends. (Actually, it’s very sad once Cú wakes up and is told that the boys’ troop been slaughtered... and then he goes full ríastrad on Medb’s armies)

Lugh is a storm god theory is WHACK and a stretch to try to compare him to another god of Norse mythology. (Alright, this isn’t particular to the Táin, it’s just me being salty about this very specific topic.)

Remember when I said Cú was a morning person? Well, that’s WRONG and I’m stupid. Cú actually hates waking up and no one ever tries to wake him up because, when he was a kid, some dude tried to wake him and baby Cú accidentally punched the dude’s brains out. (Another of baby Cú’s stories includes him hiding under Conchobar’s bed after punching about 50 boys and then you got the entirety of Ulster + King Conchobar + Fergus trying to pull him out). Anyway, back to the Táin.

One of the armies that were allied to Connacht was really efficient and fast and Medb didn’t like that one bit so her solution was to kill them all. Aillil: ‘What a womanly thing to say! We can’t do that!’ Fergus agreed and was the bigger brain then and therefore it was decided that the badass army should be distributed among the other armies.

I actually really like Fergus’ character during the entirety of the book and how he kept making fools of Medb and Aillil the whole time to delay their armies and give some time to Cú to recover and fight back. I’m giving him some rights back because I’m Cú biased.

Right, for at least 3 months, the war was only between the armies of Connacht (+ armies sent from other regions of Ireland... they all pretty much said Fuck them Ulster) against Cú Chulainn (with Láeg and his horses as emotional support). You would think that the armies of thousands of warriors would easily win against one 17yo boy, right? Haha... You would also think that considering Cú’s kill count, this enemy forces would start considering Cú as a serious threat and respect him, right? Absolutely not! Aillil actually has to threaten his troops to stop them from badmouthing Cú (Context: As soon as anyone insulted Cú, Cú would use his slingshot to blow their heads. He’s always watching... and listening!) Also, Cú has to wear a fake beard on TWO different occasions because, otherwise, the warriors wouldn’t fight him. (The best part of this is that the people actually bought the fake beard thing.)

Unless someone’s talking shit about him, Cú can’t aim for shit. (He does things out of spite.) For nearly three months he tries to shoot Medb and Aillil’s heads but he keeps missing each time and hits other targets instead. Sad.

Sometimes Cú likes to lie practically naked on the snow while staring at nothingness and tbh? Mood.

At some point, The Morrígan shows up disguised as a beautiful princess and tries to seduce Cú in a quite forceful manner, to which Cú says hard pass. The Morrigan gets offended and decides to make Cú’s life miserable from then on, to which our best boy says: Bring it on, WENCH! (Jokes aside, in concept, it’s really interesting that the goddess of death, victory, and war falls in love with a hero fated to accomplish greats feats and have his name remembered forever in all of Ireland and to die young.)

Then, The Morrigan transforms into an eel/fish and makes Cú trip when he’s crossing the river to meet the Connacht armies. Apparently, this is THE WORST that could ever happen to Cú because he gets so embarrassed and flustered that he just lies there and tries to hide a little. It’s so bad that he has no will to fight and Láeg has to give him prep talk so that he stands up again. I said Láeg was his emotional support!

And also Cú’s only brain cell! Because when Medb sent a message to Cú to meet her without carrying any weapon, Láeg went ‘Yeah, dude, don’t be stupid, that’s a trap.’ And of course it was a trap! This made Cú kinda annoyed because Medb had tried to deceive him and therefore destroys all the armies that Medb sent to kill him. And upon seeing her warriors getting slaughtered, Medb goes ‘This is so unfair! He’s doing injustice against my people!’ Mmm, I wonder who’s fault that this.

Ferdiad and Cú’s battle is always overwhelming and depressing and there’s gay drama no matter what.

An iconic moment from that battle is when Ferdiad asks his charioteer to look and see if Cú has arrived yet, to which the charioteer says ‘no, Ferdiad, buddy, we arrived like... 3 hours early to your date, what the fuck’. And Ferdiad goes, ‘Look again’ and the charioteer says, ‘Hey, dude, I know your boyfriend is tiny but he’s not THAT tiny’.

The book doesn’t explicitly mention how short is Cú but the people keep comparing him to a little hound, little deer, whelp, calf, little goat, etc.etc. etc. There also was this one time when Cú went ‘hey, hey what the fuck. I went full ríastrad last night. I can’t have people thinking I’m ugly.’ So he puts on his cool clothes and walked between where the Kingdoms of Ireland were gathered and the crowds went WILD. The men were standing there looking at Cú all dumbfounded but the women (their wives) couldn’t see him (like I said, he’s really short) so they got on the men’s shoulders to look at Cú. Medb got curious about what was the ruckus about and got on some dude’s shoulder’s too and looked at Cú and went ‘Hey, what the fuck! He’s a literal baby and you’re telling me that he’s the one who has been humiliating my troops?!’ Medb wasn’t amused.

Btw the reason why Medb and Aillil didn’t grab the brown bull Donn Cualigne and yeeted themselves out of there was because the bull was a powerhouse and no one could actually grab him. He would kill a fuckton of people whenever they tried to grab him so they decided that that was a bad idea.

Anyway, by the end of the Táin, the men of Ulster recovered from the pangs of Macha. (It was a curse that fell upon them for being major assholes. Don’t force pregnant women, who are about to give birth, to participate in chariot races, that’s just bad. Btw Macha, the pregnant woman, won the race.) And so everyone starts talking and making a huge deal of THE GREAT BATTLE and there are these cool and long introductions to the warriors of Ulster, Conchobar is all ‘I just came here to laugh at you’ at Medb and Aillil. And so you get a bunch of warriors come and go from THE GREAT BATTLE, and Cú says, ‘Damn, Laég, you better tell me all about THE GREAT BATTLE’ (Cú can’t participate because he’s still too wounded from his battle with Ferdiad). But they never actually show you THE GREAT BATTLE. Sad.

Also, sadly, there wasn’t nowhere nearly enough content of Conall Cernach and his dog-headed, man-eating, gore-covered, foaming monster horse and I think that’s a damn shame. ucu.

[imwastingmylifeinhere]

Magnus Chase and the Obligatory Hogwarts Au Ch20

The Yule Ball! Wooo! You don't know how excited I was for this chapter! Anyway, without further ado, enjoy!

After the Christmas Feast, students rushed out of the Hall of the Slain to get ready for the Yule Ball and the teachers started decorating the Hall for the dance. Magnus could feel his nervousness rise as he tried to tie his fucking bowtie. Who the fuck thought this thing was a good idea? Like, really, who? Because Magnus had a few choice words to say to them.

He let out an exasperated sigh and run his hand through his hair out of habit before remembering he had slicked his hair back and he had just now ruined. His hair, that he had fought to tame, was now sticking up in odd angles. Magnus had half a thought that he looked like some bad Sonic the Hedgehog OC before he tried wrestling with his hair once more.

Once his hair was slicked back with so much gel it looked as hard as rock and his bowtie was on (even if it was hanging a bit too much on the left) Magnus made his way to the Hall of the Slain. Students were waiting by the big heavy doors for their date or their friends to arrive, all dressed in their best clothes. You didn’t get the chance to attend a Yule Ball often – in fact, since the Tournament was every five years, you might never get to.

Magnus’s friends were waiting by the door as well. T.J was the first to spot him and waved him over. His suit looked like Magnus’s but it was black instead of white and his shirt underneath his jacket was a deep blue. Despite his dislike for the color, Magnus had to admit his friend looked nice.

“Hey, guys,” Magnus greeted them as he came closer. Sam and Amir were standing by T.J, close enough to be touching but not quite, their hands a breath away. Sam’s dress was deep emerald, so dark it was almost black. Her hijab was the same color and Magnus could see little details in lace on the hem. Amir’s suit was the exact same color, which made Magnus think they had agreed to wear matching clothes and he had to suppress his urge to coo at them because aww.

“Hi, Amir.”

“Hi, Magnus,” the other boy responded with a smile. Magnus hadn’t been able to see him since the first Task. “You did great at the first Task. I’ve given some falafel for you to the –what did you call them, house elves?” Sam nodded. “I gave your falafel to the house elves, they said they’ll give it to you later.”

Magnus pumped his fist into the air. “Hell yeah!”

Amir smiled at his enthusiasm as he and T.J went back to their conversation about the magical world – apparently Amir still had many questions and T.J was glad to answer all of them. Sam went into full mum mode when she saw that Magnus’s bowtie wasn’t straight and was about to go and fix it for him when Mallory and Halfborn appeared.

“Magnus, buddy! How are you?” Halfborn roared as he gave Magnus the biggest bear hug of his life.

“Halfborn, I can’t breathe,” Magnus wheezed as his sides got crushed between his friends hands.

“Oops, sorry,” Halfborn let him go, clearly not sorry. “Man, you were amazing at the first Task. You got my Howler, right?”

“Yeah, I did. Miss Eir kicked them out of the infirmary after I opened it.”

Halfborn laughed a loud, hearty laugh and Magnus smiled, glad to see his friend again. Mallory rolled her eyes at her boyfriend, amusement clear in her eyes. Her fiery hair spilled over her shoulders like liquid fire, its color even more bright against her navy dress. It ruffled above the ground like waves, the color becoming deeper and deeper the closest it got to the hem. Next to Halfborn in his sharp black suit they looked so good Magnus could imagine them walking on a red carpet or something like that easily.

They kept making small talk until Halfborn elbowed Magnus with a smug grin. “Seems like your date is here.”

Magnus turned around with a questioning look and he gasped at the sight beyond him, his heart faltering in its beat for a moment before it picked up again, faster than ever.

Alex looked amazing, to say the least. It seemed as if the student body was splitting to letting her pass, like the sea dividing before Moses. Or maybe no one moved at all and Magnus was just too focused on her. He suddenly knew what it felt like to be a moth or a fly in front of a bright light, attracted so powerfully to something that would probably kill you.

Alex’s dress was dark like shadows, spilling to the floor in numerous ruffles that made her look like an upside-down rose. White lace adorned her neckline, her waist and the hem of her skirt like snow in the night sky. Her green locks seemed curlier than before, pulled out of her face by a delicate white flower crown. Light make-up made her eyes look bigger and shinier, her cheeks redder, her lips plusher, though Magnus knew he’d die to kiss her with or without the lip-gloss.

“Fuck me,” Magnus mumbled without realizing it.

“I think she’d like that,” T.J said with a grin. For the ace of the group he made the most innuendos out of all of them.

“Hey, guys,” Alex greeted them when she got closer. She smelt good. Did she always smell that good? Probably. Why didn’t Magnus notice before?

“H-hi,” Magnus managed to get out. His heart beat so loud he was sure everybody in a hundred meters radius could hear it. It made him feel like his words had to go through quicksand to get out of his throat.

“Hi, Magnus,” Alex smiled at him and did she know what her smile did to him? He felt like he was having a heart attack every time she so much as grinned in his general directions. He was too young to die of a heart attack, dammit!

Mallory was saying something to Alex, probably about how good she looked or something along those lines and Magnus was left staring there speechless. What Alex and her roommates were saying didn’t register in his brain, but every small way Alex moved did. He felt as if he was looking at a spinning top, completely hypnotized by its movements.

Magnus was awoken from his hypnotization when Halfborn put an arm around his shoulders. “Seems like you finally managed to ask Alex out, huh? It was about time, too. I’m happy for you mate, even if I owe Mallory two galleons now.”

“W-what?” Magnus stuttered out, face flushing. Did they bet on my non-existent love-life? “No, I didn’t ask Alex out, I-I mean I did, but we’re here as friends. And did you honestly bet on that?”

The smile on Halfborn’s face turned into a frown. “Yeah, we did, and we bet a lot of money too. T.J bet the most.”

T.J shrugged. “That’s true.” Magnus glared at him, though he was wondering exactly how much money T.J had bet on them.

“And what do you mean you’re here as friends?” Halfborn went on incredulous. “How did you ask Alex to the Yule Ball as friends? Pretty much everybody here has come with a date!”

“Well, I came with Alex as friends,” Magnus protested, his face redder than Mallory’s hair. “We’re just friends.” It sounded unconvincing even to his own ears.

Halfborn looked at him with an “are you shitting me look” before he turned to T.J. “Please tell me I wasn’t that bad.”

“You weren’t, actually. Magnus is worse.” Magnus glared at his friend. T.J ignored him. “Magnus, remember when we talked about this in the library last year?” Magnus nodded. “I know you said you would do things at your own time, and I respect that, but if you want my opinion, you should really talk to Alex for real about it. You two have a connection, you work together. I can’t tell you if Alex feels the same way, but this is our last year here. Who knows what will happen in our lives afterwards?”

Magnus nodded along absentmindedly, their conversation about the future from the Hogwarts Express coming back to him. The fact that after this year was over he wouldn’t see his friends every single day still hadn’t full sank in.

“Last year you said you didn’t think it was a good idea to ask Alex out so soon after she had broke up with Conall,” T.J went on, his voice stern, like he was scolding a child. With how laid-back his friends could be he forgot how serious he can get sometimes. “You probably used the fact they were together as an excuse to avoid your feeling before that. What’s holding you back now?”

Magnus didn’t answer, didn’t know how to. What was holding him back?

“What are we doing here?” he heard Mallory say suddenly. “Let’s go party!”  Mallory took her boyfriend by the arm and run inside the Hall of the Slain faster than it should have been possible for someone in a dress and (presumably) heels. (Though Mallory could have killed a man in heels and looked fabulous while doing it.) (She would probably kill him with the heels.)

Amir and Sam headed inside the Hall as well, with T.J running straight for the buffet table (as any sane person would). Magnus was about to get inside too when Alex stopped him by his shoulder. He gave her a quizzical look but she just gestured him closer and said, “Come here.”

Magnus did, unsure of what Alex wanted to do. She came closer to him, standing just a step apart and reached her arms up to his neck. For a moment Magnus could imagine her wrapping them around his neck and pulling him closer, his body pressed flush against her as she kissed him.

But that didn’t happen. Instead she untied his bowtie and tied it again with graceful fingers. “We can’t have the Hogwarts champion show up with a crooked bowtie,” she said with a smirk and Merlin did Magnus love her smirk. She started explaining how you’re supposed to tie a bowtie, saying it was weird but you learnt after some time, and Magnus knew he should have been paying attention but he couldn’t. He was too busy paying attention to her.

She was beautiful. He knew she was a metamorphmagus, he knew she could look anyway she wanted, and he had no doubt he would think she was beautiful however she chose to change her appearance. She was gorgeous, inside and out, and his conversation with Halfborn and T.J made him even more aware of just how much he liked her, of all the small things she did that made her who she was.

She could draw amazingly well and she’d make a lot of pots at summer when they had more free time. She even knew how to tie a bowtie! Who knows how to do that in this day and age? She could probably kill him with that bowtie too if she wanted and Magnus found that strangely hot.

Then he thought of why she knew how to do those things, why she knew how to dance waltz and he remembered all the absentminded comments she’d made about her parents and how badly they treated her, even when they thought she was their son, their precious heir. He couldn’t help being mad at people who had hurt such a wonderful person.

“What are you thinking about?” Alex asked him, amusement clear in her voice – she said that he had a funny expression on his face when he was thinking hard about something and she’d compare it to his brain frying because he worked it harder than he should. She had finished tying his bowtie but her hands still rested at either side of his neck. She was a good inch or two taller than him and it would be so easy to pull her down and kiss her.

What’s holding you back now? T.J’s words rang in his ears and Magnus found himself saying something he would have dared to say before without wanting to crawl into a hole afterwards.

“Just how great you are,” he said simply, like it was the truest thing he’s ever said.

Alex’s eyes widened. She obviously wasn’t expecting him to say something like that, though he didn’t expect to say it either. Her cheeks grew pinker and Magnus got a strange sense of satisfaction at being able to make her blush. The corners of her lips turned up in a teasing smile and she hooked their arms together.

“Now,” she said, her cheeks still red, “don’t start flirting when we’re not even at the Ball yet, lover-boy.”

Magnus smiled back despite the warmth climbing his neck towards his cheeks. “Does that mean I can flirt if we’re inside the Hall of the Slain?” he asked in a joking tone.

“Sure,” Alex shrugged as they walked inside the Hall of the Slain. “As long as it’s with me. You wouldn’t want to make your date jealous, right?” She was smiling widely, her eyes alight by their joking around.

“Of course not. Plus, my date’s the prettiest person here so why would I flirt with someone else?” As much as Magnus was enjoying their fooling around, there was still a part of him that was getting very embarrassed by it.

And he probably wasn’t the only one because Alex’s cheeks darkened again. “Well, aren’t you smooth,” she said with a small smile. Her eyes fell on the buffet table - where T.J was currently stuffing breatsticks inside his pocket and hoping no one would notice - and she smiled wider. “Care for a snack, handsome?”

“Sure, beautiful,” Magnus shot back, cheeks aflame.

They stood by the buffet table, eating some of the snacks that had been put there as the rest of the students spilled inside the large room. The longer the stood there the more overdramatically they flirted and it was after Alex winked at him and called him cute that Magnus had a heart attack realized his random comment had led to them aggressively flirting with each other as a competition.

It was when Magnus was about to say that Alex looked marvelous in her dress (because the more over-the-top the better) that he heard a loud, French-accented voice call out to him.

“Magnus, mon ami, how are you?” Raphael asked as he came closer, dragging Louis behind him by the arm. The blonde boy had the face of someone who really regretted his actions while Raphael looked like he would start bouncing off the walls any minute now.

“Oh, I’m fine,” Magnus responded. He didn’t know whether he should be relieved or not that he wouldn’t joke-flirt with Alex anymore. “How are you?”

“About to go crazy because I told you not to eat those éclairs and you did anyway,” Louis cut in before Raphael could say anything. “He gets really hyperactive when he eats a lot of sugar,” he explained to Magnus and Alex.

“Which is why you’ve been trying to come up with tasty sugar-free recipes like the great boyfriend you are,” Raphael said as he kissed Louis cheeks, trying to make his boyfriend stop being angry at him. “Besides, you can’t blame me for eating them. Your éclairs are tres incroyable!”

Louis blushed a little by the compliment but he still glared at the other boy. The two of them had come to the Yule Ball in matching suits in their school’s colors.

“Why were you making éclairs anyway?” Alex asked confused though very amused (and kinda hungry for éclairs).

“I bake when I’m bored,” Louis answered simply.

“And when he’s stressed and when he can’t sleep and when he’s really happy…” Raphael counted on his fingers.

“I bake a lot.”

They made small talk for a little bit before Magnus remembered something. “Oh, the cake you gave me was really good by the way.”

“Thanks,” Louis said at the same time Alex asked, “What cake?”

Magnus’s face paled as he remembered that he had never told Alex, or any of his friends, about the cake. “Oh, Louis gave me a cake as thank you for the first task and, um…”

“You didn’t give any to us?” Alex sounded offended and Magnus took a cautious step to the side without realizing it.

“I was going to!” he tried to excuse himself, making wide gestures with his hands. “But then I took a slice and it was good and… I ate all of it on my own.” He knew he should have kept a bit for his friends, he would have kept some of them since he could eat a whole cake on his own, but… it was just really good!

“I am breaking up with you,” Alex said simply. Louis and Raphael watched the whole scene unfold amused.

“Magnus,” Raphael started to stop the (albeit joke) fight between the two British, “won’t you introduce us to ta bien-aimee?”

Alex’s dramatic frown immediately left her face as she blushed redder than a tomato. Magnus was confused as to why she reacted like that before she remembered Alex knew both Spanish and French so she understood what Raphael had just called her. Magnus would have reacted in the same way (if not way worse) if he had understood too, but he had limited (to non-existent) knowledge in French so he thought that Raph had simply called Alex his best friend.

“Oh, um, this is Alex,” Magnus introduced his crush awkwardly.

“So you are the Alex he’s told us about,” Louis said, looking Alex in the eye. Magnus flushed and just barely kept himself from groaning. The way he phrased it made it sound as if he had been fawning to them about her! “I’m Luis Dupain.”

Alex smiled at the blonde French boy. “Alex Fierro.”

“And I suppose you know my name already from the Goblet, but I’m Raphael Beaumont,” the Beauxbatons Champion piped in, smile wider than that of a five-year-old. Magnus could see what sugar had done to him. “Nice to finally meet Magnus’s girlfriend.”

Magnus’s face went red faster than the speed of light. Alex wasn’t far behind.

“I- I am not-“she spluttered.

“S-she’s not-“ he tried.

Raphael and Louis sent each other a nervous glance as the two teens in front of them were nearly having an aneurism.

“I’m sorry for assuming then,” Raphael said, hoping it would stop Magnus and Alex from fainting on the spot. Then, because he couldn’t hold himself back and he honestly didn’t see what would be the problem since they were just friends, he said, “Though you’d make a really cute couple.”

Magnus choked on air again and Alex glared a Raphael (something that would have been much more threatening if she wasn’t blushing redder than the Gryffindor banner).

“So, um, how’s the clue coming along?” Magnus changed the subject. He didn’t think his heart could take any more comments about his relationship with Alex. “Have you solved it yet?”

For some reason that simple question made both boys’ faces to flush bright red.

“Yeah, we have,” Raphael muttered.

“‘We?’” Alex asked, one eyebrow perfectly raised.

“Yeah, we were at the kitchens and I was trying to make a Quiche Lorraine-“ Louis started explaining.

“-and I was messing around with some potions because I was bored and he wouldn’t let me lick the spoon-“ Raphael cut in.

“-it’s unhygienic!-“

“-so I tried to have some fun-“

“-you started kissing me while I was mixing the ingredients-“

“-and we kind of dropped the potion I was working on onto the parchment.” Raphael was obviously flustered, fidgeting with the fabric of his suit. Then he seemed to remember something and his blush was instantly replaced by a scared look. “Oh shit, tell me you had solved it too.”

Magnus nodded. “Yeah, I have, it’s alright.”

Raphael was probably about to ask him how he had solved it when Professor Sif gestured them over. It was time for the Champion’s Waltz.  

The students cleared the dancing floor quickly, eager to see the Champion’s Waltz. The three Champions and their dates took their places like they had been told. Helga, Magnus and Raphael stood on one side of the dance floor while their dates stood opposite them. Helga was dressed in a blood red dress, since it was the school’s color, and her date, Agatha, wore a matching dress as well.

The music started playing and all three couples took slow steps towards each other. Once close, Magnus bowed and offered a hand to Alex, as per the choreography. Alex took it and they started circling around each other with their joint hands acting like the axis of their circle.

Around them, the other two couples were doing the same thing. Magnus paid close attention to the music and when he heard their cue he pulled Alex closer, bringing his hand to her waist.

“Careful not to step on my toes,” Alex whispered to him and Magnus smiled at her.

They circled around the dance floor the way their Headmasters had showed them, dresses and suit jackets swaying in time with the music. From above they would have looked like leafs being moved along by the wind and the students watched their performance enrapt. They knew the dance was choreographed but there was still something amazingly intimate in the way the three couples held and looked at each other, like they were each other’s treasure.

Magnus led Alex across the dance floor, his partner’s dress flaring out in a wide circle. He had to fight everything in him not to start staring at his feet but he knew it’d look bad if he did the entire dance with his hand bowed down. That didn’t stop him from glancing down at his feet, even if he couldn’t see them sometimes under Alex’s dress.

He was doing just that when Alex squeezed a bit too hard on his shoulder. He looked up and it was a wonder his step didn’t falter because wow. He hadn’t realized exactly how close they were, especially since he had made it a habit to stare at a place over Alex’s shoulder when they danced so as to avoid death at his young age.  

“Look at me,” his beautiful partner whispered and he heard even over the music still playing around them.

Magnus complied, half-thinking that someone would have to force him to force him to ever stop looking at Alex. The lights around the room had lowered when their dance started and a spotlight fell on each of them as they walked closer. When their hands had met and the couples started dancing together the colors had shifted into each school’s colors. Magnus and Alex danced under red, green, blue and yellow lights that made Alex look like something supernatural, a beautiful creature out of a fairy tale. With those captivating eyes and green hair it wouldn’t be hard to believe.

As the dance went on Magnus felt magnetized by Alex, his thoughts and worries slipping away as they performed the rest of the dance. The music would sound like trickling water and Magnus would spin Alex under his arm, then it would swell and they’d hold hands as Alex twirled outwards, dress blowing out like a flower in bloom.

They danced in circles again, bodies close, and Magnus noticed the slight shift in tempo as the song drew close to its end. Alex noticed it too and smiled at him, eager for the big finale of their number.

The three couples danced closer and closer until they were dancing in a small, tight circle in the middle of the dance floor. A red skirt – Magnus didn’t know if it belonged to Helga or Agatha – swept by his legs and he could see Louis and Raphael over Alex’s shoulder looking at each other like a couple on their wedding day. Then, as the violin in the song became more prominent, they danced outwards in wide, open arcs.

Once they reached their place at the very edge of the dance floor Magnus took Alex by the hand for the final spin. Alex’s body twirled outwards elegantly, face almost glowing with a wide, happy smile and Magnus wanted to make sure that smile would always be there. Heart thumping in his chest, Magnus pulled Alex back in, smiling just as brightly as his partner. Magnus positioned his hands in the right places and as the last notes of the song played he dipped Alex down.

The music ended and the clapping from the students started, loud and excited. It was louder than a thunderstorm, some students cat-whistling, others shouting compliments in English, French, Spanish, Russian and a handful of other languages Magnus didn’t recognize. His eyes, however, didn’t lift up to the crowd of applauding students, nor to his friends that were being the loudest of them all.

No, his eyes stayed at Alex, panting in his arms, cheeks flushed, with a smile that could put the sun, the stars and the fucking moon at shame. His heart seemed to sync up with the loud clapping of the student body and more than ever – more than the day at the Room of Requirement, more than when they hovered together in the air, more than all the dozens of times he wanted to do it – he wanted to lean down and kiss Alex.

What’s holding you back now?

But before he could do it, before he could close the distance between their lips, Alex was standing up. The other two couples had broken their stances as well, Magnus saw, and the students of Hogwarts, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang were spilling into the dance floor.

“Come on,” Alex said and tugged on his arm. Magnus didn’t get to look at his partner’s eyes for long before he was being dragged to the side of the room but he could have sworn he could see a disappointed gleam in them, like Alex wouldn’t have minded at all if Magnus listened to T.J’s advice and finally acted on his feelings.

They were back at the buffet table and Alex was pouring both of them glasses of water. She held one out to Magnus- no, wait –

“Have your pronouns changed?” Magnus asked as he took the glass.

Alex raised an eyebrow. “Yeah. He and him. How did you know?”

Magnus shrugged. He really wasn’t sure what possessed him to ask. “I don’t know. Lucky guess?”

Alex smiled at him and drank his water. Magnus was drinking his too when he noticed Alex’s shoulder being a bit too tense, his arms hanging by his sides a bit too unnaturally, fumbling with his skirt a bit too weirdly.

“Do you… feel weird in that dress?” he asked carefully.

Alex sighed. “A bit? I don’t know why, I’m funny with the school skirt even on male days. Maybe it’s too long?”

“Do you want to get changed?”

Alex shrugged. “Yes, but I don’t have anything else that’s formal and I don’t want to have to go all the way to the Slytherin dorms and miss the party.”

Magnus grabbed his hand, already having an idea. “Come with me.”

Alex didn’t say anything else as Magnus took her to where Professor Blitzen was talking with Professor Hearthstone, the two of them standing a little bit too close. Magnus filed it away as evidence for the Blitzstone rumor that has being going around among the students since last year.

They took a step away from each other and Magnus noted that too, but he wasn’t here to speculate about his teachers’ love lives so he got straight to the point. “Professor Blitzen, do you happen to have a spare suit? Alex doesn’t feel comfortable and he wants to change.”

The short teacher realized what was happening quickly and told the two students to follow him. About ten minutes later Alex was walking out of a stall in the boys’ bathroom in a suit that matched Magnus’s. Why Professor Blitzen had one just lying around he didn’t know but he didn’t question it.

Back at the Ball, the party was going on strong. The music had switched from the instrumental that played during the Champions’ dance to a more upbeat modern wizarding song which lyrics Magnus’s didn’t bother paying attention to. He and his friends spent the night raiding the buffet and doing the most ridiculous dance moves in a circle at the dance floor. Apparently Alex had picked up some break-dancing moves while on the streets and damn where those moves impressive. T.J could do a really good wave too, he said Percy had showed him how, and Magnus danced like he was having a seizure now that nobody was telling him how to move his limbs. Raphael and Luis did a way over-the-to tango that made it obvious neither of them knew what they were doing, but at least they were passionate about it.

The party ended a bit after the obligatory conga line and the students started heading back to their rooms, though Magnus was pretty sure some of the couples were going somewhere else.

“Magnus,” Alex said as he took his hand. There was a lot of hand-holding tonight, not that Magnus was complaining. “Wanna go to the Astronomy tower?”

“Yes,” he said, because he couldn’t say no, he could never say not to Alex.

So they went to the Astronomy tower, hand in hand, even when they didn’t need to hold hands so as not to lose each other in the crowd of students anymore. They went through corridors Magnus had walked hundreds of times before and through halls he didn’t even know existed. Alex was in the lead, Magnus’s hand held tightly in his own as they hid behind a large suit of armor to avoid the teacher that was coming down the hall.

When they finally made it to the tower they were immediately met with the strong, cold breeze of the winter night. Magnus was about to say that maybe they should go somewhere else because they would probably freeze to death on top of one of Hogwarts’ tallest towers in the middle of December but Alex took his wand from under his pant and cast a warming spell on them.

They dragged one of the benches left there from the Astronomy lessons closer to the edge and sat down. The night was beautiful, if not cold, though he couldn’t feel it that much now thanks to Alex’s spell. The sky was full with stars and you could see them much easier here than anywhere in London.

Their wands lay between them, the Lumos they had both cast before letting them down being the only light in the top of the tower besides the stars and the moon. Alex was still holding his hand but he said nothing. He’d love it if he never had to let go of his hand. (Plus, his hand was warm and it was really nice.)

“The stars are beautiful tonight,” he finally said, laughing a bit on the inside because, you know, memes.

“You know what else is beautiful?” Alex responded.

Without thinking, Magnus said, “You?”

If Alex blushed, he couldn’t tell. “You know it!” he said with a cheeky smile.

There was a moment of comfortable silence, the only sound around them the wind and the occasional louder sounds from the Forbidden Forest. Magnus looked at the trees of the forest, the thick foliage looking almost black in the light of the moon. He couldn’t help but think back to the first task – the pixies hitting him from every angle, zipping across the tightwire while clinging onto the rope, having to balance on the swings while firing spells at the Thestrals and facing a goddamn chimera. He didn’t think he could ever see the forest again and not be reminded of the task.

When he was in second year he remembered being jealous of the older students for going to Beauxbatons to see the Tournament, and while he wanted to watch it, he definitely never thought he’d have to take part in it. He could understand now, better than an observer could, why people said the tournament was dangerous. He couldn’t blame his friends, couldn’t blame Alex for being worrying about him.

What’s holding you back?

He heard T.J’s words in his head again and seriously, did his friend learn how to get in people’s minds? Still, even if T.J knew Legilimency and Magnus didn’t know, the question still remained. What was holding him back? He’s taking part in the Triwizard Tournament, he fought with a fucking chimera, what was scaring him so much that he couldn’t talk to Alex and tell him he wanted to be more than just friends?

“You know you’re still holding my hand, right?” Alex asked. Ironic considering he had been tracing circles with his thumb over Magnus’s knuckles for the last few minutes.

“Yeah.” Magnus nodded. He didn’t let go. “Do you want me to let go?”

“No, I don’t.” Alex smiled at him before turning his eyes back at the sky. He gave Magnus’s hand a squeeze. “I just wanted to see if you had noticed.”

Do it, something in him told him. Just do it. This is your last year - your last shot. Take it.

And, unlike every other time his mind had pushed him to do this, Magnus didn’t shoot back with half-backed excuses. Unconsciously, he squeezed Alex’s hand before he spoke. His voice sounded soft among the wind that was whipping against the tower.

“Alex?”

“Mm?”

“At the infirmary, after the first task…” Come on, you can do it. Just ask. Yet as much as he tried to calm himself down his heart still beat ridiculously loud, louder than the chimera’s roar.  “Why did you kiss me on the cheek?”

Alex didn’t respond. For one slow, excruciating the only sound around them was the howling of the wind and the sloshing of the waves at the Big Lake below them. Magnus’s hand was sweating inside Alex’s and he was sure he had noticed. Every bit of confidence that had possessed him to speak was leaving him by the second and he would have taken what he said back if Alex hadn’t spoken, voice carefree and nervous at the same time.

“I was glad you were alright and I wanted to kiss you on the cheek so I did.”

Maybe it was how anxious he had gotten over asking something so simple but Magnus couldn’t help but burst out laughing. “Yeah, that seems like you. Has there ever been something you wanted to do that you didn’t do?”

Alex smiled at him, the kind of ‘if only you knew’ smile his mother would give him whenever he asked her if she loved him. “Some things. You?”

Come on, this is it. Do it!

The moon made Alex’s hair look silvery green, his eyes twinkled under the light of their wands and Magnus was drowning in them. His suit jacket was laying somewhere behind them on the floor and his tie hand loosely around his neck. He looked beautiful. Magnus wanted to kiss him.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you but I haven’t done it yet.”

Alex’s smile was wide, brighter than the moon and the stars. His hand on Magnus’s was warm as he traced designs on his skin. “I’ve wanted to do that too. Do you still want to?”

“Always.”

They leaned in slowly, as if pulled by a magnet. Their lips met in the middle over their joint hands, slow and hesitant. Alex moved his lips against Magnus’s and they were soft yet chapped from the cold, tasting like the food they ate at the buffet table and strawberry. Magnus tried to follow his movements, the part of him that feared he would mess this up being drowned out by then part of him that wanted to kiss Alex till he didn’t know how to do anything else.

Alex reached a hand up and put it behind his neck, pulling him closer. Magnus brought his own hand up to Alex’s shoulder, his other hand still holding Alex’s tightly. He felt more at ease now and he kissed Alex easier, with more confidence. Alex smiled against him lips and pushed back, not about to be outdone by Magnus. His teeth grazed Magnus’s bottom lip lightly before sucking on it a bit. Magnus’s hand tightened around the fabric of Alex’s shirt, feeling lightheaded and deliriously happy.

They pulled apart slowly but didn’t go back to their original places. They stayed close, their faces centimeters apart, their panting breath mingling. Magnus was smiling like an idiot and so was Alex.              

“Merlin, I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” Alex said as he smiled, sighing deeply as he tried to catch his breath.

“How long?” Magnus asked quietly. He felt like he would break whatever spell was over them if he spoke louder.

Alex traced circles over Magnus’s knuckles and Magnus saw a bit of a blush on his face thanks to the light from their wands. “Since before Christmas last year. At least that’s when I realized it. You?”

Magnus was blushing as he answered but he didn’t care. “Since the start of sixth year, I think. Probably since before that, too.”

The smile from Alex’s face was replaced with a stunned expression for a moment before he burst out laughing. “Wow. So we’ve liked each other all this time-“

“- but we said nothing,” Magnus continued, smiling over their own stupidity.

“We’re idiots,” Alex said.

“Yeah, we are,” Magnus chuckled.

Alex scooted closer to him and wiggled his eyebrows at him. “Want to make up for lost time?”

“Definitely.”

Eh? Eh? You didn't think this would finally happen, did ya?

[ardenssolis]

@caemthe​ said (inbox):

[ fantasy, conall ] It's the third attempt this week, Conall thought bitterly as he rolled over the corpse of an assassin with the sole of his boot. Ever since his embarrassing defeat and near death, tension had become as palpable as the first time the mactíre placed a foot on the palace as Ozymandias' guard. It was annoying beyond belief and the wolf had little time to rest and properly recover from his wounds. "Tch, these bastards really think they can do whatever they please." Conall thought that the fact the enemies of the kingdom believed they had a chance at killing his lover was laughable. But he also knew that it was no laughing matter. He noted familiar footsteps and a grin was offered to his lover once he turned to them. "Nothing to look at here, princess. Unless you were looking for a souvenir." He said as he lifted the severed head he held on one hand. It had been cut at the jaw, the majority of it falling apart so it showed its tongue hanging between the exposed bone. Needless to say, it was in an unrecognizable state, a warning for those who thought they could try the same as the tattered corpse. Conall knew Ozymandias found such sight unpleasing. The truth was he didn't want them to stay and think much about the number of assassination attempts in such a short time.

He met Ozymandias over an hour later, already having taken care of things and the blood that was splattered on him. "It's gotten pretty lively as of late. Especially since it's been a while since this place saw some action." He took a seat on the table, a grin plastered on his features even though there's hardly any amusement in his voice. "It's my fault, I know that."

     OZYMANDIAS WAS NO STRANGER to assassination attempts. If anything, it was not abnormal overall for such things to happen regardless of the ruler that sat upon the throne in his homeland. His father had dealt with it too at first, but Seti had been so vicious in his execution of those captured that it had been a deterrence towards those that still pondered further ways to claim his life. Truly, from what Ozymandias had learned as he grew, cruel retaliation was really the only means to show your fangs were not there for show. You had to bite hard and kill rather than merely maim as a warning. Still, what had truly made his would-be-assassins wary was Conall’s presence. His abilities as a mactíre meant that even if one managed to elude the king and his guards, they most certainly would not be able to hide from HIM. There was no such thing once Conall had another’s scent. They were as good as dead by that point unless they found some means of eluding him in his hunt.

     However…when one’s prized hound was heard to be wounded, was it not a given that thieves would choose that time to try and steal their cattle? There was, after all, no longer the fear of being mauled as recompense for such bravado. Footsteps echoed, soon to come to a stop as Ozymandias’ passive gaze lingered upon the decapitated corpse on the ground before his gaze turned to the head held in Conall’s hands like a trophy. Gross. Why couldn’t this man just slice it cleanly off and leave it at that? ❝I don’t know how many times I have told you not to make more of a mess than necessary. I need the head to be somewhat intact.❞ A long sigh slipped from his lips, his eyes turning to the side. ❝No matter. This...still can serve its purpose, I suppose, even if your methods are…forever lacking in finesse.❞ 

     It was a given that incidents like this would increase for a time, though the fact that it was known so quickly did make him wonder if someone within his court was the one hiring these assassins, or some outside kingdom who hoped to sow discord and slowly use the chaos to follow as a smokescreen to plan an attack… Regardless, something told him that this was not the only assassin that Conall had found. ❝There are vipers everywhere,❞ he whispered, anger heard within his tone for but a moment before he turned and began to walk away as easily as he had appeared. Composure. He had to maintain composure. There was nothing more terrifying than knowing that beneath a king’s stony visage was red-hot rage that could burn and sear flesh from bone. ❝Be sure to clean things up. I do like my floors looking pristine.❞

     An hour or so had passed since he had caught Conall covered in blood, and though that hour had passed, his mind still remained upon the corpse splayed out upon cool and polished stone.  He glanced up from one of many letters laid out in front of him, gaze catching with crimson before returning to text. ❝How long have you been hiding these incidents from me? What number was this assassin? Two? Three? More?❞ Did he really want to know? Perhaps not. What good came from knowing such a thing? He exhaled through his nose, leaning back against his seat knowing full well he would not be able to focus on his work. ❝Do not blame yourself. I have been too reliant upon you. That in itself, is my own weakness laid bare.❞ Ozymandias was not so easy to kill. If anything, he should have been eliminated back when he was a child – small, fragile, and naïve to the world around him (time had made him colder -- stronger as a necessity). Sitting forward without so much as a warning, he reached out and leaned across the table just slightly, uncaring if he jarred his work in the process as his hand came to rest against Conall’s cheek.

     ❝You have never failed me.❞