#LITERALLY WHY OTHER TITLES ARE COMING OUT WHAT DO YOU HAVE AGAINST GENTLE NOBLE

[noblesvacation]

Gentle Noble Volume 8 has been delayed once again

WHAT IS HAPPENING

[iwrestlenow]

Many More To Die, Chapter 15 (Epilogue)

TITLE: Many More To Die (Chapter 15, Epilogue)

FANDOM: Sanders Sides (Necromancer AU)

SUMMARY: Logan goes home for the first time in ten years--and ends this story so he can start a new one at Roman's side.

SHIPS: Logince (Logan/Roman), Moceit (Patton/Janus) and Dukexiety (Remus/Virgil)

WARNINGS: implications of violence, but mostly schmoop

This story is over, but THE story is just beginning. Still, I want to thank literally everyone that's been reading and enjoying this. Your kind words and comments, your support and kudos and encouragement...

For a while now, I've lost my passion for writing. This lit a fire under my ass. Thank you for helping to fan the flame.

I am your biggest fan. All of you reading this. Every single person. <3

Oh also this is unbeta'd so if it sucks it's on me, hope you have fun reading anyhoodle. :P

NOTES: This is based on the gorgeous piece of art by @gretacticdraws that can be found here. I ended up writing a ficlet for it, and then my brain got swallowed up. Breathe at me wrong, and I’ll write more…hell, who am I kidding? I’ll write more anyway because this? Is self indulgent drivel. XD

Also located at AO3 over here.

“You're nervous.”

“Falsehood.”

“I'm the one that's supposed to be nervous.”

“Roman, I am warning you...”

Roman's mouth was abruptly on his, warm and sweet and firm. His arms were secure around Logan's waist, pulling Logan's back against his chest, and Logan was helpless in the face of liquid golden warmth trickling through his limbs and pooling sweetly somewhere low in his belly as he leaned back into Roman's embrace.

It had been a week, and technically, Logan and Patton were still prisoners until a vote could be put to the people. As prince regent, with the king convalescing, Roman was already spreading word of the events in the castle, and the fact that necromancers had defended the life of the royal family.

Thomas, despite being alive, seemed hell bent on abdicating, claiming Roman was ready. Logan was in full agreement, but Roman refused to even consider it.

Not until he made sure his reign would be welcome.

Logan forced himself from the blissful reverie of Roman's embrace just in time to open his eyes and spot a figure on the horizon. People were appearing, but one towered above all the others.

Grandpap. Logan blinked hard against the sudden burn behind his eyes. Roman must have sensed his unrest, because a hand smoothed up the length of his spine.

The closer they drew, the more restless Logan became. His stomach was tightening, his chest compressing, a strange chill causing him to shiver when the air was perfectly pleasant...

Logan wasn't nervous. Logan was afraid.

Roman brought the horse they were riding to a stop once they were there—a dozen feet from the line of people that had formed to wait for their arrival, just at the boundary of the settlement.

Grandpap towered over them, but among the throng were Logan's parents—and endless others, so many he'd grown up with and around...

Roman gave him one gentle squeeze before he carefully dismounted and reached up to help Logan down. Taking one last breath, Logan walked up to face his grandfather as calmly as he could, where he stood, flanked by his child and goodchild—Logan's geni and his pari, Elliot and Talyn..

“Who claims this Weaver?” Josiah called out, raising his voice to be heard by the people around him.

“We do.” Elliot replied, their eyes too bright as they stared at Logan with a ferocity that made it hard to breathe. “We claim this Weaver, and grant him--”

“I will take no Name.”

Josiah regarded Logan sharply. “Scuse me?”

Logan took a deep breath. “I will take no Name, for I already have one.”

A gasp went through the group, and Talyn's hands flew to cover their mouth, tears slipping from their eyes.

“I am Logan Berry.” Logan continued, emboldened by the weight of a hand on his shoulder from behind. “Son of Elliot Crofter. Fruit of Talyn Crofter...heart-name of Starlight, recalled to life by the power of the Lazari.”

Logan paused, turning to face Roman.

“And I am claimed by the keeper of my soul.”

Roman smiled at him, bending to kiss Logan's cheek before he faced Josiah.

Only then did Logan realize Roman wasn't wearing it.

“Roman!”

Ignoring Logan, Roman stepped forward—and then dropped to one knee in front of Logan's grandfather as he drew his sword, offering it to him pommel first.

“To you, Lord Father, I submit my fate. If you have not the care to look into my soul, then it is better that you should run me through with my own sword and claim me as your thrall lest you believe me incapable of pure intent.” he declared without hesitation, his voice clear and strong. “What say you?”

Logan stood, breathless, as Grandpap gaped down at Roman with shock and anger in his face. His gaze flicked up to Logan, as if he couldn't help it--

Before he took the sword from Roman and hefted it into his hand with an ease that was unnerving. Logan had never seen his grandfather wield a blade, always fighting with bare hands and sharp words...

For the first time, he could see it: the blood of kings, the head that bore the weight of the crown, the noble blood that had passed from him to Geni and into Logan's veins.

Josiah used the flat of the blade to lift Roman's chin to meet his gaze.

“You know what you're askin', son?” he replied quietly.

“Yes, Lord Father.”

“To walk the grave and call it home?”

“To walk the grave, and call it home.” Roman replied, then continued with an ease that made Logan's chest tight with pride. “To give the dead my voice, to speak their will, to care for the lowest of the low as gods and as kings, for I seek no greater honor than to humble myself as a steward of the dead.”

“And why is that?” Josiah asked.

“For it is in the stewardship of death that we understand the blessing of life.”

Josiah slid another look up at Logan, raising an eyebrow. Logan had to bite back a smile—it was the same look Grandpap gave him whenever Logan asked for another new book or telescope or a third helping of jam with his breakfast as a little boy.

“You ask for death and resurrection as one of the tribe—what gift would you deliver for the honor of death and slavery?” Josiah asked, refocusing on Roman.

“The throne of the Kingdoms, and the crown that goes with it.”

Josiah blinked, the people around him dead silent with pure shock.

“Lies kill among this tribe, little prince.” Josiah warned.

Roman held steady, his breathing even, his voice colored with a softness that Logan knew meant he was smiling.

“Only a fool would come to the Lord Father of the Necromata with a lie on his lips—and while I am a fool many times over, I am not a fool in this.”

There was a startled, barely there ripple of tittering through the people at Grandpap's back—including the familiar roll of thunder that was Josiah's quiet chuckle.

“And the compensation you would ask for the soul you've gifted to my grandson?”

“I would ask for nothing, and accept only that which you would offer, Lord Father.”

“...then I offer you the throne of the Kingdoms, and the crown that goes with it. Didn't wanna be a king in my youth, and that ain't changed.”

“Grandpap--”

“Logan, hush your mouth.”

“But Grandpap, he's not--”

“Starlight, hush yer mouth.”

Logan's mouth snapped shut at the use of his True Name by his grandfather. Josiah watched Roman as he set the point of the sword against Roman's throat.

Roman was asking for the right to be with Logan not as a suitor or a spouse, but as a rightful member of his tribe. Such initiation required a blood sacrifice, usually represented with the symbolic slicing of a red thread or mutilation of a piece of red fabric.

And Roman wasn't wearing the thread Logan had knotted around his neck.

“It is done.” Josiah declared flatly, launching Logan's heart into his throat.

There was a soft twitch, and Roman's deep red travel cloak slipped off his shoulders to pool around him.

“The king is dead—and the king is reborn unto the tribe.” Josiah declared, lowering the sword and offering Roman his hand. “Rise, son of Shadow...and next time, wear the damn thread 'stead of showboating.”

Roman shrugged as he stood up. “I didn't want to give myself an out. I wanted you to know I meant it, I...I'm willing to die to be with your grandson, sir.”

“Well, now you are.” Grandpap replied, glancing at Logan again. “Provided this ain't an act?...”

Logan shook his head, then reached into his pocket and pulled the Soulstone free with shaking fingers, moving to Roman's side and handing it to Josiah.

“I apologize for stealing it, but I felt I had no choice.” he confessed. “For what it's worth, it protected me from the Cleansing—and likely protected Roman from far worse. Has news reached here?”

Josiah nodded, fingers curling around the Soulstone. “It has.”

“Then you know that Roman has had little memory of what led me to steal that ring—had the Soulstone not been present and working, the Animator might have done Roman harm much sooner to ensure he could successfully wipe out the royal family...and, without the king's protection, ours as well.”

Josiah just nodded, looking between the pair.

“So that's it? You two show up just to make the little prince Necromata and get my blessing? Where's your damn brother, and if the king lives why the hell did your soulmate just try to offer me the throne?”

Logan smiled, leaning into Roman's side. His arm came to settle around Logan's shoulders, the line of heat and pressure doing worlds to calm his nerves.

“It's a long story, Grandpap,” Logan offered, “but I think there's finally time enough to tell it—not just to you, but to everyone.”

Josiah smiled at that—a real smile, slow and broad and warm as fresh bread.

“I hope you mean more 'n just the Necromata, son...c'mon, let's go inside.”

With that, there was chaos, joyous and enveloping—and that word, once again echoing in Logan's head.

Necromata.

Once upon a time, Logan had nothing but that word to hold onto, alone in a dungeon cell, in pain and afraid.

Then Roman found him, for a second time, and saved him. Now, Roman had a future as king, and Logan...

Logan had that word again, but now that word also meant Roman. It meant his family, it meant his future...it meant real and lasting hope.

Necromata. It no longer meant the necromancers, or the legions of the Animator.

It meant his geni and pari, who chose that moment to leave Josiah's side and fling themselves at him.

It meant his Grandpap, snickering at them over his shoulder.

It meant Roman subjecting himself to the curious onslaught of questions from Logan's parents, not as a ruler but as Logan's future husband.

It felt like a Name now—a Name, freely accepted and made his own.

A life, restored.

For the first time, Logan could allow himself to have hope, because he had the power of the Necromata at his fingertips—and it was only a matter of time before that power and that hope brought the world back into balance once again.

[creampuffqueen]

Team Bonding

Word Count: 2,328

Requested by the lovely @ruby-tucker, a fic where Nova and Oscar are friends and go to the mall and eat Dairy Queen together. You ask, I deliver.

I’m not super happy with the ending of this, but I like the rest, so I think that’s good I guess. Hope y’all enjoy!

~~~~

“Nova Artino!” Nova’s wristband buzzed as Oscar’s voice sounded from it, urgent and harrying. 

“What do you want? I’m working.” Nova said back. She was busy at her worktable, taking things apart and combining them back together. She hadn’t stopped working for two days.

“I’m coming to get you. I have a surprise.”

“I can’t.” She said. “I’m getting close with this-”

“Chill out, Nova. I’m taking you on a team bonding experience.” Oscar chuckled. Oh no.

“Team bonding?” Nova yelped. “Where? And why?”

“I’m coming to get you, and you’ll find out.” He laughed. “You don’t even have to dress up. You can wear sweatpants and a hoodie, I don’t care.”

He hung up, and Nova groaned. She was reluctant to leave her project, but after taking a moment to actually look at herself-

She needed a shower. And some fresh clothes. Adrian was right, she did have a tendency to forget about herself when she was working.

Nova didn’t wash her hair, since she didn’t know how close Oscar was, and didn’t want to go wherever he was taking her and the team with wet hair. Instead she tied her dark locks into a high ponytail and donned a fresh hoodie and leggings.

Ding. The doorbell rang through the small apartment, and Nova went to answer it.

“Hello, Miss Artino.” Oscar made a dramatic bowing gesture on her doorstep, cane in hand. “Will you do me the pleasure of joining me in my quest for Dairy Queen?”

“Your quest for what now?” Nova snorted. She stepped out, wincing at the sunlight. 

“Oh my stars. Guys, she’s never had Dairy Queen!” Oscar shouted over down the stairs. Nova rolled her eyes at him, but let Oscar lead her back down to the street.

Everyone was there. Adrian, Ruby, Danna, and even Narcissa. While the redhead wasn’t really a Renegade, she was essentially part of the team. Nova liked her, she was the kind of person who one could sit in silence with and feel comfortable.

“How have we all let Oscar drag us out here?” She asked. “It’s like, what, nine in the morning?”

“Babe, it’s literally one o’clock.” Adrian chuckled. 

“Oh. Yeah.” Nova sighed. She’d completely lost track of time again.

“Anyway,” Oscar continued, “We’re all going to the mall, and we’re going to have lots of fun. And after we have lots of fun, we are going to eat ice cream until we can’t walk anymore.”

“I can’t believe you dragged me away from my work for this.”

“It’ll be fun.” Oscar assured her. “Trust me.”

So Nova let him drag her along behind him as he walked, her wrist in one hand and his cane in the other. Ruby walked close by, laughing at his dumb jokes.

“Nova, have you ever been to the mall before?” Danna asked as they arrived in the massive parking lot. 

“No. I lived in an abandoned subway tunnel for over half my life. I wasn’t allowed to go to the mall.”

“So I hate to be that person,” Oscar said with a wince, “But can you try to lighten up? Just a bit? A little? Like, a tablespoon lighter?”

Nova snorted. “Absolutely not.” Oscar made a pouty face, and Nova nudged his shoulder. “Kidding.”

“Great! Let’s go inside.” Oscar let go of Nova so he could take Ruby’s hand, leaving Nova with Adrian, Danna, and Narcissa. 

Her boyfriend offered his hand, which Nova gladly took. As they approached the building, her blue eyes widened. 

“Woah.”

She followed the others inside, looking around incredulously. The inside seemed even bigger, if that was possible. Stores were packed close together, little booths in the massive walkways between them. Advertisements were everywhere, faces of the Renegades on seemingly every surface.

“Adrian, is it weird to see your dads’ faces on literally everything?” She asked.

“I mean, yeah. Kinda.” He shrugged. “You get used to it, though.” They followed Oscar and Ruby through the thickening crowds, almost having to run to catch up.

“This place is insane.” Nova gasped. “I don’t even know what to say.” 

“I am pretty good at rendering girls speechless.” Oscar smirked. Both Nova and Ruby rolled their eyes, Nova even going as far as to punch him softly. 

“Can we please stop in the Barnes & Noble?” Naricssa begged. 

“Why not.” Oscar agreed. “We’ve got all day.”

They followed the redhead into the nearby bookstore, and Nova watched as she grabbed what seemed like one of every book in the store. She skimmed some of the titles, but nothing interested her.

She did stop, however, when she found the magazines. 

“Guys, look at this.” They all glanced over to what she was pointing at.

A picture of their team was on the cover of a magazine. Nova remembered when they’d done this, only because Simon and Hugh had practically begged them. Most of the pictures had turned out bad, but apparently not all, since they were currently the advertising for a magazine she’d never heard of.

“Wow. I look like shit.” Danna snorted. “Why did you guys let me out of the house that day?”

“No, you look pretty.” Narcissa said earnestly. 

“Well, I know who looks pretty good in this.” Oscar grinned. He puffed out his chest, and Nova waited for the self-centered comment, but instead,

“Ruby. You look smoking, babe.” Ruby laughed and blushed, giving her boyfriend a gentle kiss on the cheek. 

“I’m gonna buy it.” Nova said with a devilish grin.

“Nooooooo.” Everyone groaned. Nova just flounced off to the register, magazine in hand.

She bought it, and ten minutes later completely regretted her decision. Why had she wasted her money on a stupid magazine she wasn’t even going to read when there was a literal carousel in the mall.

“Nova, have you ever ridden a carousel before?” Oscar asked.

“Yeah, they had one in the park for a Christmas festival one year.” She replied. “This one is way bigger.”

“C’mon,” He laughed, “This one is great.”

“I don’t have any money.” She sighed. “I spent it on the magazine.”

Her friend handed her a dollar, and Nova made to give it back, but he pushed her hand away. “It’s a dollar, Nova.”

So she let him push her towards the register, and she let him nearly shove her hand at the cashier to take the money and give her the carousel token. And after, she let Oscar drag her to the gate.

“Isn’t this kinda childish.” Nova asked, squirming uncomfortably. The only people on the thing were kids, or parents with young children. Not a teenager in sight.

“What does it matter?” Oscar laughed. He squeezed Ruby’s hand. “If they judge us, so what?”

The animal seats were moving up and down as cheery music blared, and Adrian took her hand. “What animal do you want?” He asked her with a smile.

Nova had to let it pass a few times before she decided. “I want the giraffe.”

“To make up for her height.” Oscar called over his shoulder. 

“Rude!” Nova said back, though there were no bite to her words. Instead, she started laughing.

The carousel stopped a minute later, and the kids clambered off. Leaving the team, plus the large amount of new children that had gathered behind them to go on.

Nova put her token in the gate, and it swung open. She followed Oscar as he and Ruby ran, hand in hand, to their chosen animals. She got to the giraffe and pulled herself up, finding herself next to Naricssa on the elephant next to her. Danna had a wolf, and Adrian had gone with the typical pony. 

When the ride started, Nova was nearly thrown off as it lurched forward. She clung to the metal giraffe with a yelp, wishing there was some sort of seatbelt. Especially as it started moving up and down.

Ahead of and beside her, she could hear her friends whooping and cheering. Even quiet Narcissa laughed happily, throwing her hands in the air.

Nova, on the other hand, held onto the moving animal for dear life. It was only after taking a moment to realize that she was hardly two feet off the ground that she felt comfortable enough to lessen her death grip.

The spinning motion was exhilarating, and she found herself getting into it. Why were these things supposed to be just for kids? Nova let out a loud cheer as the giraffe rose and fell in tune with the music.

It was all over far too soon, and Nova and her team tumbled off the ride with wobbly legs all around. Oscar was laughing nearly hysterically as he clung to his cane.

Nova leaned against the gate, the other hand clutching her belly from her laughter. “That was amazing.” She managed to get out.

“I knew you’d like it.” Oscar said with a grin. 

They managed to leave the area with only one minor issue, when Ruby toppled into Adrian, sending them both sprawling to the tile floor in a tangle of limbs and laughter.

Nova helped Ruby up, and Danna took care of Adrian, and they all got to a table to sit.

“I don’t know about you guys,” Oscar started, “But I’m gonna need some ice cream.”

“If I eat ice cream I will puke all over you.” Danna groaned. 

“Good thing I’m not making you eat it. Nova, come with?”

Nova tried to protest, but a moment later she was being dragged away by Oscar, Ruby, and Adrian. 

They pulled her towards another store, which Nova concluded must be the “Dairy Queen” Oscar was talking about. Why? Because it said ‘Dairy Queen’ in giant, bold letters in front of the store.

“You haven’t lived until you’ve tasted a Dairy Queen Blizzard.” Oscar said. Nova turned to the others, but both Ruby and Adrian nodded enthusiastically.

“Fine. What flavors do they have?”

“Every flavor. All the flavors.” Oscar gestured to the large menu as they approached the counter. “Whatever flavor you desire.”

“Do they have just regular vanilla?” Looking at all the choices, Nova felt a bit overwhelmed. 

“I mean yeah, but you can go get vanilla anywhere. Only Dairy Queen has… let me see.. Heath Caramel Brownie.” Oscar chuckled, and pulled Nova along with him.

“I’m gonna get you a cookie dough Blizzard.” He said after another moment’s thought. “You’ll like it.”

“Why are you making all my choices for me?”

“Because this is a team building exercise, remember? We’re building trust.” Oscar put his hand on her shoulder. “Do you really think I would get you something to eat that was bad?”

They made it to the counter, and Oscar ordered the ice cream for him and Nova. Ruby and Adrian got their own, and they moved to the line waiting for their food.

“How come you didn’t bother Ruby about getting something plain?” Nova complained. “A chocolate dipped cone-”

“Because I’m his girlfriend, and he knows not to mess with me.” Ruby laughed. 

Oscar and Adrian joined her, and Nova glared at all three of them. “You are all awful people. How dare you.”

“Order for Oscar.” The worker called. And even with his cane, Oscar beat Nova to the counter. The worker tipped the two cups of ice cream upside down, and Nova’s eyes nearly bulged out of her head. What the-

However, the ice cream was so thick that it stayed, and the worker handed Oscar the cups and two spoons. He turned back to Nova and handed her hers, and she gave him a sidelong glance as she took a bite.

“Oh.”

“It’s good, isn’t it?” Oscar nudged her. “Say it.”

“It’s pretty good. You were right.” Nova sighed.

“Ooh! She said it! Adrian, your girlfriend just said I was right! Imagine that!” He laughed at Nova’s glare, and the two of them walked back to the table where Danna and Narcissa were.

Narcissa already had her nose in a book, and Danna was leaning back with her feet on the table. They sat down, and Nova took another bite of ice cream.

Oscar was practically shoveling his in his mouth, but Nova decided to take her time. She chewed thoughtfully on a piece of cookie dough, and smiled at Adrian and Ruby when they returned.

They all descended into light conversation, Danna stealing the magazine from Nova and continuing to chuckle over their picture. Nova took a large bite of ice cream, and-

Oh sweet rot.

Her entire brain was exploding. She nearly dropped her spoon as she reached to clutch her forehead, eyes welling up at the sudden pain.

“Oh, shit, brainfreeze?” Oscar asked. Nova couldn’t answer.

After a few grueling, painful moments, the fire in her head ceased, and Nova leaned back, groaning. 

“What was that?”

“Brainfreeze.” Adrian said sympathetically. “Happens sometimes.”

“It felt like my head was being split open by a mideavel torture device, how can you be so calm?” She yelped.

“Have you never had a brainfreeze before?” Osca asked curiously.

“No.”

“It sucks, but it’s not, like, deadly. I think. I’m pretty sure.” He licked the back of his red spoon. “Just happens sometimes.”

She was reluctant to take another bite, but after a few licks and nothing happened, Nova finally finished her ice cream. 

And just like that, Oscar’s ‘team bonding experience’ came to an end. Ruby left first, finishing her chocolate-dipped cone and giving Oscar a quick goodbye kiss. Adrian was next, and Danna and Narcissa left together, Danna helping her girlfriend carry all her books home. 

Which left Nova with Oscar.

“I’ll walk you home.” He offered. “I mean, I’m no Adrian Everhart, but-”

“Okay, you dork.”

He grinned, and stood up. “Alright then. But before we leave, was this fun?”

“Yeah.” Nova admitted.

“Are you glad I dragged you away from your very important work?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

They didn’t say much else, instead walking back to Nova’s apartment in comfortable, companionable silence.

~~~~

Fanfic/Headcanon Requests!

[pettyelves]

our Fallback to freedom

With the foresight of a literal blind man, and Eilithe too eager to leave the leagues of relatives behind-- neither of the couple had thought to bring their weapons, a change of clothes, coins, not even a stolen bottle from the party. 

Not that they weren’t already sloshed by the time they landed in Pandaria, nearly an hour’s flight from Dead Sun. When they landed, he had told her they could see what the local inn keeper had-- or they could steal from a local farmer. 

This brought an eruption of chuckling as Eilithe realized that all she had on her was a silver cigarette case and matching light, tucked up under her left breast in her dress. 

It was much to Eilithe’s suspicion that Kurel volunteered himself to be the one that would ..hunt the chicken, leaving her to rip and tie her dress in a way that would make her very expensive bride’s maid gown into an unfashionable romper. They went to work-- and she’d suggested to quickly snap the chicken’s neck. Which he had-- mostly done, though not to perfection as the chickens clucked and flapped enough to rouse the farmer. 

Before she knew what happened, she watched Kurel-- knees to chest, haul-assing from the back of the farm a soon-to-be-dead chicken jerking around in his massive hands. She had to cover her mouth to stifle a laugh. 

Eilithe made her escape without such hang ups-- which, thought she did not say so aloud, meant she thought herself the better thief of the two. They rendezvoused some distance from the farm laughing at the whole thing. 

No one could say they never had fun together. 

"You know I bough' this farm with all the intention of retirin' to it. Tried to give i' away half a dozen times when all thin's didn't go as I'd planned. Come in handy havin' a time or three."

One of which times was some three or four years before, when he had hidden Eilonwy away there.And when the threat had passed, he had taken Eilithe to the house to be reunited with her daughter-- who, at some point not long after had grown into his daughter too.

"Now that I can't picture-- Kur'elnth An'diel, retired to a farm to live out the rest of his days. Old man chopping wood for his hearth, wiping his brow and listening to naught but the shift of goats and wind through rows of corn. No, I can't imagine being where your life might have stopped." Her fingers curled on his hip once more, "Guess my plan was no better-- nor was it anymore realistic."

He would have defended that plan with every breath he had left in him- -and Eilithe might’ve bought it if he wasn’t choking on chuckles while he did it.  "Ou' with i' then. Wha' was your unrealistic retiremen' ?" He asked her with a nudge.

It took her time to work the courage to really answer the question. After all, this conversation would only loop around in a circle they’d been going in for a long time now. 

"For the longest time I wasn't going to retire, I was terribly afflicted with wanderlust as my grandmother calls it. So when I was of age, myself and my ..eventual first mate took jobs in our order that allowed us to leave. And we'd split up for a few centuries, come back together and so on." She paused her digression. "I don't think it was until I first was pregnant, which was.. mmm.. thirty or so years ago now, that the idea of retiring crossed my mind. And that unrealistic retirement was being someone's wife, which I think is why Flithune and I ended up parting and never joining again. A mother, with a house-- somewhere back near my home village. Doing as my mother did before everything." She looked off at nothing, recollecting, "Then I was voted into leadership and that retirement got further, then closer at other times, then further again."

"Wife is jus' a title.  Like... Queen an' Criminal." He licked his lips. "While you are far from retired. You are a mother. With far more than a house an' while Dead Sun ain't necessarily your home village. It is yours. I think you've been connin' us all livin' retiremen' for a' leas' a decade."

"Never wanted to lead the village," she said with a chuckle-- it was a longing for simplicity and freedom that she did not possess. At the risk of breaking down to arguing, she followed with a soft retort. 

"A Queen, an Arbiter-- will, so long as she holds the title be looked to for answers, for protection, for counsel-- and she will always be held, a hand higher and admired for her title. It is the same way, a Captain-- if he is trusted, if he makes his men richer,  will always sit in the cabin-- he will always be looked to for the next move, he will always be, in part, feared as much as he is respected." She wet her lips, "A wife is much the same-- regarded as above all lovers, concubines, whatevers that came before her. She is given the title of wife because, in a bay of choices, she was chosen. And to call her wife means that for her husband, there can be no other. And for her? There is no other. She is his end-all, as he is hers."

He never answered with anything-- which meant that he likely understood, now, why his name beside hers made so much a difference to her. They didn’t linger long in that quiet before they were walking up the steps and into the Museum of Dust and Kurel An’Diel’s Shit™

It was simple, as he’d planned his retirement to be. No magical lighting, no running water, and a wood burning stove. Everything was covered in dust as it had been three years since anyone had set foot inside.  

A coat of arms, photographs, boxes and a books--his treasures. Among them was a golden chastity belt, enchanted-- and Eilithe learned some very long time ago that Kurel had earned the belt by way of marrying the woman who’d been locked away it in. Despite the fact that the woman symbolized the tradition Eilithe was so cross with, she found the story hilarious and snorted when she saw the prize mounted on the wall. She snorted more he he suggested they ought replicate the design and sell them to Noble Lords who’d protect their daughters from ending up in Eilithe’s brothel, or in the arms of men like Kurel. 

"Fucking men like you is good for a woman," she said, leaning into him more. "Maybe not the first time--then again, a rough first time does wonders for durability too." She cleared her throat, "Either or, really-- effect is the same. She learns a strong man from a weak one with men like you."

“Men like me.” He invited her to explain the meaning without so much as uttering more than those three words. 

"Men like you" she repeated, reaching to grab his free hand with a free hand while the other held her propped up. "Men with rough hands," she said, drawing his palm to her lips-- where she kissed, with soft lips, each of his fingers before she guided the hand from her cheek, down her long neck, to be abandoned to its own desire to travel her form. "Hands that chop wood, and pull ropes. Hands that swing swords with force enough to strike sparks against steel of their enemies. Hands that guide, or punish, or please. Hands which can be gentle on the small of woman's back, as easily as they can squeeze the last breath from a grown man.Dangerous men, with ambition. Hard men, immovable and unconquerable." 

His hand always flinched on her throat, and he listened with distinct attention before he stole a kiss and made suggestion that the broken vanity in their home ought be included in a museum alongside the chastity belt with a sign that read  Keep Off. Extremely Unstable. Fuck At Your Own Risk. And Eilithe returned that she would make use of their vanity until it was broken into pieces, at which time she said: “I'll frame the pieces and hang it in my madame's office with a plaque that reads None fuck harder than An'Diels."

When no wall nor surface did not have a swipe of one of their hands, on imprint of their backs in the dusted surface-- when they had managed to crack the vanity in the lofted bedroom the same as they had the one at home. Only then did she find a few moment’s sleep. 

At dawn, her hands held a single on of his, tracing every line with delicacy she’d not shown in the hours before. When he stirred his fingers curled with he’s passing over each digit on her left hand until he could slide a thumb over the scarab beetle between her first and second knuckle.

“This hasn't been here." He said quietly.

“No, it hasn’t.” 

There came silent resignation there, over the name An’Diel. It was not an outright victory, nor was Eilithe likely any closer to hearing a quiet confirmation for her to take what she wanted. But it was confirmation.

 This was not going away for him. 

They spent the rest of the day distracting one another. From cooking and cleaning up their fallback, from worries that were only a stretch across the ocean, and from designs that there was anything more in the world than the two of them.

[ @kurel-andiel @deadsunharbor ]

[little-inkstone]

A Fate Sealed with String

Summery:  After meeting the man her parents have arranged for her to marry, Belle decides she’ll take her own fate into her hands.  Literally, with the help of a charmed piece of thread that will lead her to her true love.

AN: Where do ideas come from?  How did this happen?  Oh well, I hope you guys enjoy it!

AO3

Belle was vehemently against marrying the man that her father had decided would be her husband. He was smug, pigheaded and not a just a little bit conceited; the night before they’d been forced to eat supper together.  While everyone in her father’s court was a twitter about the princess’s fiancé.  She’d met men like him before, he thought he was charming, and now that their engagement was official he saw nothing wrong with outrageously flirting with the Lady who sat across from them.  He smirked while the two of them talked his eyes heavy and half lidded, his words dripping with hidden promises.  Belle had no doubt that they were already lovers and she refused to marry a man that wouldn’t at least be loyal to her at the begging of their marriage.

As a child she’d dreamed of marrying her true love.  When she’d grown older she had resigned herself to a political match, but she hadn’t given up hope that she could still find marital bliss.  Her parents were more than happy with each other despite having been an arranged marriage, and she had wanted the same. It seemed that wouldn’t be happening with her current husband-to-be.  She couldn’t imagine ever tolerating him, let alone falling in love with him.  After the disastrous dinner she had gone to her parents to complain to them.  Papa had brushed her concerns aside with a pat on the hand before walking away.  Mama hadn’t been so quick to ignore her.  Instead she led Belle to her well-stocked library where they had some before bed tea.

“You’ve only just met him, Belle.”  Her Mama said once she was done ranting.  “Perhaps you should try to get to know him a little better.”  She reached out and took Belle’s hand with a reassuring smile. “He is well known for his gallantry and kindness.  I’ve met him before; I think you two will be a good match.”

“Oh not you too, Mama.”  Belle sighed unhappily as she pulled her hand away to cross her arms.  “Papa said the same thing.”  She added.  “But this isn’t the first knight I’ve met with a golden reputation and winsome smile, Mama, I’m not fooled.”

“All I want is for you to be happy, Belle; if his lordship isn’t to your taste then I’ll talk to your father.”  Collette said.

“Thank you, Mama.” Belle replied standing to hug her Mother.

“I can’t make any promises; we’ve already announced your engagement and signed the engagement contract.  Without extenuating circumstances breaking it will start a nothing short of a scandal.” Collette warned as she patted her back.

“I know, but thank you.”  She said.

Belle was deep in thought as she left her mother’s library.  She didn’t want to cause trouble, but she couldn’t marry that man, not after how he’d acted during their first dinner together.  They hadn’t even known each other for more than an hour and his eye was wandering, what would the rest of her life with him be like? Belle refused to find out, and that meant she needed to create some extenuating circumstances.

When she was a girl a carnival had come to visit their city and with it had come several proprietors of magic items and spells.  She’d been thrilled to be given a bag of coins and the freedom to buy what she wished from the colourful stalls and she still held many of those items dear. One of those items was still tucked away between the pages of one of the most boring sounding books she had.  When she’d bought the red string of fate she had planned to use it right away, only to change her mind when she realized she wouldn’t be able to follow where it led.  She might have been a dreamer but even as a child she was a practical dreamer.

As the years went on she’d put aside any thoughts of actually using the magical charm.  It was something that would lead to her true love if she tied it around her ring finger and slept with it like that.  When she woke up the witch that sold it to her promised the other end would be wrapped around the ring finger of the one that was perfect for her no matter how far away that person was.  She’d been tempted so many times to use it but true loves and happily ever afters weren’t for princesses that needed to marry for political reasons.  Plus the thought of her true love being chosen by magic had always rankled her; she wanted to choose her own fate.  All things considered using the sting now was her taking control of her destiny; more so then the current option.

Belle allowed her maids to dress her for bed and then waited for the castle to grow quiet and the hour to grow late.  Then when she was sure no one else but mice would be scurrying about she got up and walked to where she kept her fine collection of books.  Slipping the inconspicuous title free from its spot on her bookshelf she opened it to the page were the red thread was pressed.  It had been years since she’d bought it, but it was still the deep and vibrant red it had been from the beginning.  It almost seemed to glow with magic.  Taking a deep breath Belle wrapped it around her finger and tied a knot; it was tight enough that it wouldn’t slip off while she slept, but not so much that her finger would begin to turn blue.  Nervously she put the book back and slid under the covers of her bed.

It seemed like sleep might be might be impossible, given how anxious she was; but soon her eyes grew heavier than her worries and she drifted off.

Even before her eyes had even opened in the morning she knew it worked.  There was a gentle tugging at her ring finger that felt as if it were pulling her towards her destiny, which she supposed it was.  With a racing heart she left the bed and dressed quickly in a simple dress that she could put on without needing help or having the red string get twisted around anything.  The thread twisted its way down the hall leading from her room; bright and red as it cut through the gloom of the early morning.

As Belle walked through the halls of her family home she began to wonder how far away her soul mate was. They would almost certainly not be in the castle; they might not even be in her country.  Instead of being intimidated Belle was excited by the prospect, this could be her chance to see the world; and if this person was her true love then they would probably love traveling too.  Excitement bubbled up and she felt a smile began to pull at her lips.  Picking up her pace she couldn’t help the giddiness making her steps lighter.  First she’d see which direction it led and then she’d go pack a bag for the weather in the counties that way, then she’d grab a bag of food and set off.

The string led her down several flights of stairs to where the stables and practice courtyard for the knights were.  Soon the clanging of steel against steel filled the air but Belle paid it no mind; she was too busy thinking of all the places that lay to the North of them.  It would be cold, there were mountains separating their kingdom and the next with small villages dotted around the slopes. She would need a warm change of clothes and the horse she took would have to be one of the hardier stock they bred for their cold winters.  Belle was brought out of her excited daydreaming when she felt the thread begin to tug, almost as if it were excited.

Frowning she kept following it, the sounds of mock combat growing louder.  Now she could hear grunting along with the clang of metal. She let out a displeased sigh when she realized one of the voices was clearing her new fiancé.  It seemed she’d have to see him one last time before their engagement was broken.  Perhaps that would be for the best, once he saw the string wrapped around her finger he would know what she had done and she would be free.  Her smile returned at the thought and she happily walked into the courtyard.

At first her eyes bypassed the knight’s swinging the heavy weapons around and the other’s standing around, instead she looked eagerly to the open gate that led to her future.  Only now that was looking she realized it didn’t, the string wasn’t leading to the North, up into the mountains and the great wide somewhere.  The thread was twisted around the feet of the men in the ring.

With a sinking heart she looked between the two knights.  First at her fiancé as he demonstrated to the squires the best way to lung and keep balanced and then at the man that easily parried his blow.  It was unmistakeable who the string was connected to, but it must have been a mistake, a terrible horrible mistake.  Belle watched as if she were outside her own body as her fiancé turned away from his sparring partner and saw her.  He smiled in a way that most would describe as charming, but she would consider smug, and he stuck his sword into the ground and swaggered to her side.

“Good morning, Princess.”  He said, taking her left hand with his and pressing a feather light kiss to the red thread that made her skin all but crawl.  It wasn’t invisible, he could see the length twined around her finger; he was mocking her.

“Good morning.”  She bit out, removing her hand from his and turning away so she didn’t have to look at his self-satisfied grin.

“I am honoured by your presence,”  He told her as he took a step back, his eyes flicking along her body in an overly familiar way.  “But what brings you here this morning?”

“I am sure you know why, My Lord.”  Belle replied with a glare.  He was just like every other knight she’d ever met; on the surface he seemed gallant and noble, but really his ego was larger than her father’s castle.

“Perhaps the thread?”  He suggested, gesturing to the ground where the string lay in a haphazard tangle.  “I apologize that it is in such disarray, but luckily I can save you the trouble of finding its other end.”  The golden knight lifted his hand where the string had tied itself around his ring finger, sealing her fate more than any engagement ever could.

“I can see that, Lord Rumplestiltskin.”  She bit out.

Before he could say another work Belle turned and quickly walked away.  The string was wrong, somehow he’d bewitched it into choosing him; the very idea that her true love would be the famous knight and Light One, Rumplestiltskin, was laughable.  She would find a way to choose her fate and break her engagement. Belle refused to ever marry that man, and certainly her heart would never be his either.

[empty-dream]

Me watching Fate/Apocrypha ep 10

Sieg: *trembling while holding the sword* “Fight me!” Mordred: “Learn to hold a goddamn sword first”

Astolfo: “Dude I did not suffer for this!’ Sieg: “Really sorry about that!” Mordred: *send them both away with one blow* “gET A ROOM”

I’m choking Mordred is definitely pulling a “Are you serious? Right in front of my salad sword?”

Wow Sieg’s glare is pretty chilling. Finally some depth on his on screen appearance.

In addition, it’s when he declares his new name and his existence, so good job.

Caules and Fran getting on the hit-them-when-they-talk bandwagon.

You thought regular looting is bad? Try heart looting.

Hello to the people who come here thinking Jack is hot innocent loli, behold she is actually blood-splattered lunatic scavenging dead hearts from dead people. 

The idea of the most famous serial killer being an apparition shaped as little girl dressed in futuristic stripper outfit bathed in blood and corpses while fiddling with a Nokia 6000 series is WAY BEYOND WHAT I COULD EVER COME UP IN MY ENTIRE LIFE

“Our new room” more like “room we literally kill people for”

Jack: “Okay mom, bye bye!” *Naruto runs*

How is that walking metal armor not electrocuted by Fran’s lightning that’s some EX magic shit going on here

Caules hon that’s not what I’d call acting with discretion.

‘Third-rates’ wow Mordred your trash-talking actually hurts huh who did you learn from? Gawain?

I just realized that since Clarent is powered by Mordred’s hatred for Artoria, then it basically runs on the power of emo LOLOLOLOL

Well all is funny until she blows everybody several yards away with it.

Yo Mordred do yo always go and see people and be like “this one is homunculus, this one is not”??

On the other hand, good job A-1 at showing explicitly that Fran is indeed not a homunculus nor a human but a true artificial creation.

I don’t like saying this but Mordred, if you want an enemy real dead, go for the head.

I think she was all about decapitating people before so why suddenly just stabbed?

Um nice try Sieg but don’t you see that metal armor is like this thick and Mordred is like Terminator?

The sword looks like a toothpick jammed lightly it’s awkward now

Mordred angrily turns red, literally.

Remember that Astolfo saved Sieg just because he could? Now Sieg saved Astolfo simply because he saved him. 

Ugh getting stabbed by that huge-ass sword should hurt A LOT huh

It’s been like two days out of the castle and Sieg experiences death. AGAIN.

Sieg you need to stop dying this is not Supernatural.

I guess Mordred’s characterization is definitely aimed to be jarring between the savagery she displays in battle and the chivalrous nature she harbours as a knight. 

Astolfo: “HOW DARE YOU KILL THEM?! ARE YOU SERIOUS?! RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY SALAD LANCE?!”

That’s some chilling scream Astolfo

Kairi: “Did you make sure she’s dead?” Mordred: “Dude I stabbed her with giant sword like in the torso” Kairi: “Shit boi did you forget this is a magic war? People sparkles when they die!”

Fran’s mace: *standing up ominously* Mordred: “Weird” Me: Maybe you should be called “The Knight of Obviousness” instead of “The Knight of Treachery”

Fran: SURPRISE BITCH THOUGHT YOU’D SEEN THE LAST OF ME

Fran taking strangling with bare hands to a whole new level

Wow the mace suddenly floats, does some clicking, whirling, becomes green, and now it looks like green thunder chupa chups

Uh as much as I hate Celenike, I can’t disagree with her saying ‘stand back and don’t get roped into a suicide bomb’

But I guess if she doesn’t force Astolfo he’d definitely bolt to the ground zero trying to get a better ending that’s just like him

At this point, it’s pretty clear that none of Fran Al-Qaeda-ing her way is Caules’ command.

But instead he just understands her and gives the last command spell to boost her, no matter how painful of a decision it is :(

Wow does using the last command spell always induce flashy tron lines and sharp lightning?? Is this the Apocrypha style? Last time I see people do that, it’s just dramatic wind.

Caules’ glasses breaks and cheek gets slashed only adds the dramatic tension. And it looks cool in gif.

hOLY CRAP THE BLOOD TURNS INTO FLOWER PETALSSTOP IT STOP THE FLASHBACK IT FUCKING HURTSSSS

It’s bad enough if a dying person’s life flashes before their eyes bUT IT’S ENTIRELY ON DIFFERENT LEVEL IF IT FLASHES BEFORE THEIR CLOSE PARTNER’S EYES

Fran gets super pissed at Mordred she decides to talkIt’s actually a bit funy that everybody from the author to the animators making sure people notice Fran’s lightning pierces Sieg like ‘yo reader it’s important clue for our protagonist’s powers!’

Wait I just notice the role of the Berserkers from both faction is literally the same: to become servant bomb

At least Fran goes out in a beautiful electric explosion tree........

Astolfo: “Please be dead please be dead” Mordred: “...Yo...Hhh... Surprise....hh...bitch-” Astolfo: “ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!?”

Caules babe :’’��(((((((

He’s such a good master he honestly thought he screwed up and let Fran die in vain and he couldn’t do anything for her even until the end

In the novels, from this point on, everything about Caules and Fran will just hurt like a bitch.

Okay let’s cut the sadness and LOOK SIEG’S HEART BEATING

Siegfried appears!!!!!

I kinda forget that bathing in dragon blood means he’s actually covered in blood from head to toe that’s pretty disgusting if given more thought.

So Siegfried’s previous life was literally on the range of ‘national hero’ to ‘professional killer’ to ‘matchmaker’

Sieg: “You lived your life as a wish-granting machine but do you ever have a wish yourself?” Siegfried: “Dude you’re like born months ago don’t throw existential crisis on me right now”

Siegfried: “Now let’s get back on you. Do you have a wish?” Sieg: “....Uhm..” Siegfried: “See existential crisis doesn’t feel good.”

Siegfried takes Sieg from aurora field to dragon dungeon so Sieg’s ego grows like wow that’s hardcore

What is this? A King Arthur play? Sword in the stone??

It’s mandatory to have a fate anime with somebody dramatically decides on a life purpose and dramatically pulls out a sword.

You know, I’ve always liked Balmung’s design. It screams ‘WILD HERO’ and it’s got this badass design and color and sheath. In fact, it’s the third place in my heart after Durandal and maybe-not-suprisingly La Pucelle

That’s why I’m THIS close to be angry that it appears like a cannon fodder sword but thank God it transforms

Mordred: “Wew that was close!” Kairi: “Don’t ‘wew that was close’ me that servant you called third rate just nearly deep fried you if I didn’t bail you out and now I’m tired”

Astolfo be like “My friend is dead, my other friend is dead too, my other other friend is also dead, and now I’m facing a terminator why God”

Sieg!Fried: *standing ominously under the moon* Mordred: “Master, he’s dead right?” Kairi: “Yeah I heard so” Mordred: “Well now we have The Walking Dead”

I think I just squealed hearing Sieg!Fried’s asking “Are you okay?” that sounds so gentle and so hot at the same time?????

Sieg!Fried: “Are you okay?” Astolfo: *blush* “Baka” Mordred: “GET A FUCKING ROOOMMMMMM”

I love how chill Kairi is when facing this anomaly he’s like “Dude, it’s magic war, anything can happen”

Mordred you don’t get to call Balmung a cosplay sword when Clarent also looks like a gigantic cosplay sword

And cut to Shakespeare giving comments as usual. Do Semiramis and Shirou have to watch every battle while listening to his narration?

HAHA Semiramis has to place her hand palms up because of the spikes WHY IS THAT SO FUNNY?

Hm I kinda don’t know what to make out from Shirou’s words but I presume it’s about Sieg should just live like a pure baby he is instead of letting that purity dyed in everything good and bad in being human?

If that’s so, it’s a big hint of Shirou’s goal, no?

Shirou’s practicing if-looks-could-kill without even trying

Semiramis and Shakespeares are such good friends to Shirou they notice him look evil in a matter of seconds

Shirou be like “I thought my feelings are all secret but guess not I should perfect my poker face” just like his servant. Truly a match of heaven.

Lol guys that boy you just declare worthless will be the final man standing against you lololololol

Indeed Shakespeare is the Genre Savvy™ as expected of THE playwright

Mordred: “Master what’s his weakness?” Kairi: “His weakness is ‘Do your best and find out yourself’” Kairi is such a lil shit I love him

And there you have it the first battle scene in the first episode

Y’know, the novel describes Balmung as emanating orange light like the twilight when activated but the very same novel also illustrates it with vivid blue light and it’s making me having the existential crisis since forever

Balmung vs Clarent Blood Arthur more like Let’s nuke each other

Aw they skip the calling the name of the noble phantasms if you ask me I prefer if they include it in this episode too

Oh now it’s Sieg’s command spell on the closing title and with completely different background and SCATTERED FLOWER IS THE TITLE OF THIS EPISODE THANKS FOR REMINDING ME AGAIN THAT IT HURTS ):

Fran’s dead, Caules cries, my heart really hurts

Trust me, the novel version is far worse than the animation. The narration from the moment Caules notices what he has to do to his reaction after her death is just painful. All the root cause of it all? It’s because they care for each other. Even he acknowledges that.

Oh yeah and also Fran dies with a little smile while speaking those words in the novel, kinda different vibe with the anime version

In the novel, the Siegfried’s flashback also reveals his one wish: To become an ally of justice a.k.a. the same dream possessed by the Kiritsugu and Shirou Emiya. Now it may differs from each person but for me personally, while it serves as a driving force to Siegfried’s character, it’s also yet another a form of homage (or maybe long running serious gag?) to both Fate/Zero and Fate/Stay Night. Whether it is good or not to omit that from the anime, I can’t really say....

NEXT: I think we need some Jeanne now. Hopefully not Naruto running again.

[diamondsaregold]

‘The Time It Took to Fall’ - A Maxwell/MC Fanfic

#ChoicesCreates Round 16

Prompt: “Don’t ask me to say I don’t love you.”

Rating: T

Pairings: Maxwell/MC, Drake/MC

Summary: When he sees the way that she glows around Drake, Maxwell can’t help but regret the chances he missed. [A different, melancholy take on Drake’s birthday party scene, from Maxwell’s POV.]

Background Info: Well, I took a complete detour from my initial plans for a comedic take on Maxwell’s unrequited* (lol) feelings for an MC that’s in love with Drake. This fic could not be further from comedic. So...oops?😂 I’ll still try to write the other piece. In the meantime, dim the lights and cue the angst!

Title taken from “Cherry” by Luna Shadows. 

Here, Maxwell was supposed to be in his element.

Up ahead, a group of girls giggled in his direction. To his left, Hana and Liam sat with him at their small bar table, chatting amiably with each other. A hoard of guys stood amid flashing lights in the center of the dance floor, awkwardly busting out moves and laughing at each attempt.

He barely noticed any of them.

Usually, he’d be the life of the party. Making his friends laugh with his antics, or wooing the ladies and commanding the audience with the dance moves that no one (not even Bertrand, six years ago) could compare to.

Except tonight, all he could think about were the sway of her hips and the chime of infectious laughter, all colors of the vivid, smiling girl he couldn’t get his mind off of.

And, the stinging fact that it wasn’t him that she was with tonight.

Watching her move closer and closer to the man in the denim shirt, in their own corner of the dance floor—untouched by the rest of the world and his own watchful, longing gaze—Maxwell couldn’t help but notice, darkly, that this scene was all too familiar.

“There’s no one I’d rather be dancing with right now,” she murmured. For past few minutes, she had been grazing her hands across his chest, standing closer to him for heartbeats longer than the waltz dictated, until his hands were sweating from the proximity.

Her eyes were clear and bright, and he knew she was unaware of the not-so-innocent rush that surged through him at her touch and her words, when he was overwhelmed with the urge to pull her flush against her.

He, on the other hand, was painfully aware of all the ways that she made him weak in the knees: when she shined a soft smile in his direction, or stepped out of the dressing room in a skin-tight gown, or when she sweetly called him “Max” during their late-night meetings (when all the castle was asleep except for them, and finally, he felt free to drown in her dark brown gaze. But only for those nights.). It was these moments that sent cracks rippling through his composure, tempted him to throw his resolve to the wind.

So many times had he imagined giving in to burning desire. What it would feel like to press a kiss to the curve of her neck and run his hands along the lace of her bodice, until it was all strewn on the floor. To revel in the feeling of her breath mingling with his and the sound of her soft gasps. To become undone as her heat pulsed through his veins, and to feel nothing, nothing, but her.

But here, in the ballroom, he was still Lord Beaumont—a man who kept careful watch of the piercing gaze of the nobles lurking about, and cowered under the glare from Bertrand he knew awaited him later that night.  And Lord Beaumont could not succumb to temptation for even one tender moment.

Maxwell willed himself to look away from her soft lips and the curl of her hair, the one that was practically calling to him to brush it gently away. Stiffly, he straightened his posture and held her at a distance.

It was such a rigid response, and so unlike him, that he had to bite down on his tongue to stop himself from apologizing (or confessing something more, something worse), when he saw her bottom lip begin to tremble. No matter how much it killed her, she needed to know that this could never work.

No matter how much it killed him.

“You should always be thinking of Liam,” he stated firmly, coldly. He winced at the hurt flashing through her eyes, but kept his face as blank as possible.

Too soon, he pulled away to another partner. And another. And another. As he swayed with the new ladies, each becoming more and more faceless than the last, he ignored the pounding ache in his chest. He was doing the right thing, it was for the best, and there was no going back.

That night, he didn’t see her again.

From across the opposite corner of the bar, Maxwell watched. He ignored the twinge in his stomach when Drake casually slung a shoulder around her shoulders. Pretended that his eyes didn’t linger on her lithe frame as the pair strolled over to the bar together.

“More champagne?” the bartender asked, wryly. After the fourth glass, he already knew the answer. Slowly, Maxwell sipped the clear, bubbling liquid. He barely registered the burn in his throat.

It was almost unbearable. As he watched Drake scoot his barstool closer and closer to hers—as if she was blind to his advances, as if she was stupid—and “accidentally” grazing his knees against her, he clenched his glass. Disdain, and something headier, heated like jealousy, simmered in his stomach. When she playfully punched Drake in the shoulder and he laughed, loud, Maxwell slammed his glass down, hard.

The bartender glared at him, and Hana and Liam jumped up, startled. “Sorry,” Maxwell muttered, wiping up the spilled liquid.

He should have been bothered by the fact that he didn’t feel apologetic at all. Truth was, he had been feeling further and further from himself with every passing week, every new lie. Tonight had simply added kindling to the growing flame—another instance of denying himself of what he truly wanted.

In the end, he should’ve saw it coming.

It all happened in slow motion. She leaned in close to Drake and said something, teasingly, before laughing softly to herself.

Unblinkingly, Drake stared. His eyes darted down to her dress, before hovering about on her face. Something passed over him, a flicker of doubt, then desire—a look that Maxwell saw mirrored in his own face, three weeks ago in her arms. He knew then that he was too late.

Drake gently caught her by the wrist and kissed her, long and slow.

It was as if cold water had seeped through his veins and into his stomach, mixing with the roaring burn of the champagne. He was on fire and frozen all at once, but still, he could not rip his eyes away from the intertwined pair.

She pulled away—Maxwell heard his breath come back in a rasp, heard hers too—before he saw her running her tongue over her bottom lip, Drake’s cheeks darkening. Then she leaned in and pressed her lips to his again.

As Drake gripped her chin with his hand and the two drew closer to each other, the champagne sloshed over the glass and onto Maxwell’s shaking hand.

Next to him, Liam and Hana smiled.  “Well, I’ll never,” muttered Liam with a grin. “I’m happy for him. And for her.”

“I was wondering why they both seemed so excited for this!” Hana said, laughing.

“And I thought I’d be the first to get a girlfriend in this whole mess!”

“Me too!”

They returned to their previous conversation as if nothing had happened—as if what had just transpired meant absolutely nothing. As if they were utterly blind to their friend sitting silently next to them, cold hands burning underneath the table with regret and agony.

Maxwell noticed, bitterly, that Hana and Liam didn’t check for his reaction. As if it wasn’t enough for him to be torn out of his place, his running (he noted with a grim laugh, at how it all fit together so very well, between these terribly twisted parallel lines) in his feelings for her, he was also literally the man on the side.

Well, he had it coming. He supposed that he had become a much more skilled liar in the past few months—so skilled, in fact, that he had learned how to pretend around his best friends. After endless nights of whispering lies to himself, concocting a million tales of how he would run away and be happy without her, he had convinced himself it was all for the best.

But as he watched her rest her head on her shoulder (with both their backs to him), as a swell of bitterness rose in his throat, Maxwell knew that he was still no master of deception.

Why didn’t he say yes?

He downed his drink, and strode across the floor to the group of giggling girls.

No, he wasn’t thinking about the glint of her soft hair under the sunlight of the beach, the gentle dance of her pulling him closer, and him pushing her away. He wasn’t remembering how he waited for her to return to him every time. He wasn’t drowning in the emptiness that was swallowing him whole now, the realization that she we could finally leave him for good.

And what would she come back to? The thought was so ludicrous that he almost doubled over in laughter (or tears, he couldn’t tell).

When the title of Lord Beaumont crumbled down, he was nothing more than a nameless liar. Someone who too fragile, too uncertain to ever be worthy of her.

It was for the best.

“Hey ladies.” For a moment, he was tempted to return to his corner of the bar, to drink himself into oblivion and drown in the memory of her eyes. Bright with hope and filled with images of him.

Instead, he pushed it aside and extended a hand to the nameless blonde in the center, ignoring the hollowness in his chest as he put on his best, practiced grin.

“Make room, make room! Let me show you some of these moves.”