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lady-raidia · 3 months ago

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Hi my dear) if you accept requests for RoP, could you do an Elendil x young!reader where Elendil is in love with reader, but he has two problems: 1) he is terribly insecure due to their age difference 2) he feels guilty before his first wife for allowing himself to love again

And perhaps reader helps him get through these bad thoughts and just romance and love! Thank you for your creativity! 💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

I am back from the dead and I feel extremely ashamed. Many things have happened in my life and my mind was so overwhelmed that I neglegted my baby/tumblr blog and your requests. 😞 I apologize from the bottom of my heart that I just vanished, but I hope to make up for it by dropping some requests that are sitting on my laptop for quite some time. Please feel free to share your thoughts with me! Otherwise, I hope that everyone of you is doing well and that you are enjoying the new season of RoP! Also to the person who send me this request: Again, I am so sorry for the delay or for giving you the impression that I have abandoned everything! 😭 I still hope that you like what my brain spilled out because I really loved that idea! In fact I loved it so much that I have to split it into two parts so that it isn't too lengthy. I hope you enjoy! ✨💕

Pairing: Elendil x Reader

Summary: Your heart always belonged to the captain of the Sea Guard, and while you were so sure of your feelings towards him, he tried his best to deny any thoughts and feelings he had towards you. But will he be successful?

Warnings: A little bit angsty but with a turn to something sweet! Otherwise, just some cheesy lines (again) and weirdly written sentences. What is grammar lmao?

HEALING OF A HEART - PART I ✨

Life has always been kind to you as if the Valar themselves had blessed you with pure luck. That’s why you have decided early on in your life what your purpose will be. As a newly trained healer, you have fulfilled your desire to help people and to ease their pain in body and soul. Even though the injuries seem to be the same each day, the people who come for treatment are not. Except for three young men who just love to get in trouble, and end up injured enough that they need to be treated in the Healing Houses. Isildur, Ontamo and Valandil – as soon as you hear their names, you frown, knowing full well that they got into trouble again. Lucky for you, they rarely end up in the Healing Houses together, unlucky for Isildur he is the one who gets injured the most. And if you are not treating him, you are treating sailors from the sea guard who were not quick enough to escape the pirates, that are roaming the seas. Even though your patients tend to be different each day one person visits the Healing Houses regularly, visiting either his son or his comrades. Elendil, captain of the sea guard caught your attention the moment you laid eyes upon him. But he did not pay much attention to you. You were just another healer, who tended to those who needed care.

But the more often he visited, the more he felt intrigued by you. You and your soft voice, the sweet smile and the caring words you speak every time you see him. “Seeing your children getting hurt can tire your soul, captain. Don’t forget to take care of yourself.” The day you said these words to him, something stirred up inside of him. He told himself that you were giving him advice as a healer but his inner self wanted to believe that you actually cared for him. His heart started to beat in a rhythm that was made for you but his mind tortured him with denial. He was too old for you, too scarred from life that just had begun for you. This is what he told himself over and over again, not wanting to believe that the warmth in your eyes was only meant for him and only him.

The next time he was in the Healing Houses was not because of his son or one of his cadets; he was the one who needed caring. His ship and crew got attacked by pirates and even though they managed to escape rather swiftly, the pirates didn’t want to let them go without damage. Two arrows were shot and both of them hit Elendil in the chest while he tried to save his crew from the attack. Luckily, no one else got hurt but his wounds were serious and needed immediate care. When they arrived back in Armenelos, his comrades brought him to the Healing Houses immediately and you were the first and only Healer available. You tended to his wounds very quickly but the worry in your eyes was clear. The arrows hit a nasty spot but the wound itself was not deadly. Yet, it was hard for you to contain your feelings, but you had to stay calm, had to hide the feelings you had for the captain of the sea guard.

Days passed and Elendil slowly regained his strength. With your permission he was allowed to walk around the grounds of the Healing Houses, but only during the day for short periods. He listened to your words, except for this night. He was haunted by nightmares of the past, unable to fall asleep again. Quietly he got up from his bed, a cold chill running over his skin. His chest was exposed only covered in white bandages to make his wounds heal faster. But he didn’t pay much mind to the coldness he felt on his skin since another coldness was creeping up his thoughts.

Slowly he walked towards the window and sat down on the sill, staring out to the sea that is bathed in moonlight. The night was quiet and he couldn’t help but wonder. Wonder why his heart craves to be close to you, wondering why the gods were so cruel to him. He had a wife once but she was taken away from him too quickly and before their life together even started. Yet after all these years his heart still belonged to his perished wife, never did he think or crave other women. But for reasons unknown he can’t help it, his thoughts are always wandering back to you and it drives him insane. You are only a couple years older than his daughter, he shouldn’t want you. It’s not right, his wife would … he shakes his head, trying to get rid of these haunting thoughts and feelings. No, he promised to be loyal to his wife until the day he dies and he will keep this promise.

He let out a heavy sigh, not realizing that he had got company. “Is something the matter, captain? You look rather gloomy today.” He turns around in surprise, but with a soft smile on his lips while you look at him with worry in your eyes. “No, I’m just … reminiscing on the past.”, he replied. “Usually when people tend to think about the past too often they seem to get lost in it. Even stuck.” You said gently, moving to sit beside him on the windowsill. Elendil stays quiet thinking about your words, the smile on his lips slowly vanishing. “I am not the type of person to get stuck.” He tried to sound confident as he always does, but there is a hint of vulnerability hidden behind his words. You look at him unsure if you should speak your mind or just leave it be. There is so much you want to say, so much you want to confess but he is your patient after all. Yet, it is also your duty to heal the mind not only the body.

“With what your son has told me, I would politely disagree with that.” Elendil looks at you, surprise in his eyes and a hint of I-will-kill-my-son-later. “Isildur? What did he say this time?” “He shared his worries with me. He is worried about you because you can’t let go.” Your voice is quiet but your words … there is something eerie inside of them. Slowly and with care you take one of Elendils hands, holding it as a mother would hold her child's hand after it was haunted by nightmares. Elendils body starts to tingle but he pays it no mind, still too focused on your words.

“I am sorry, I did not mean to pry.” You say feeling as if you have crossed a line, taking your hand back and making a move to leave. But Elendil quickly grabs your hand again, wanting you to stay. “No, you did not pry. In fact … I think you might be right.” He holds your hand even tighter now, desperate to have you with him a minute longer. His touch makes your heart skip a beat but this is not the time to admit that. He is your patient and what he needs now is someone to talk to, someone who will calm the storm in his mind.

“Isildur spoke of his mother. I am sorry for the loss you had to bear.” Elendil nods, the memories of his late wife are with him every day. The memories that were once so sweet, became something agonizing. The guilt of not being able to save her is nearly costing him his sanity, only the sea, the sound of the waves crashing against the ship kept his mind at bay. But he did not realize that his own children were worried about him. He thought he was hiding his feelings rather well. “No loss is easy to bear. The feeling of guilt that comes after … it’s driving me insane.” For a moment you are witness to another side of the captain. His bright smile, confidence and authoritative demeanour are gone and all you can see in front of you is a man that suffered a lot and doesn’t know how to help himself. It breaks your heart to see him like this, the man you have longed for so long.

“I don’t know anything about your wife, but do you think she would have wanted you to suffer?” Your voice is barely a whisper but the words are clear as day. Slowly Elendil shakes his head, still holding on to your hand. “No …” “Then it is time that you start to forgive yourself. I know that the loss of someone you love makes you feel as if the world stops spinning. But the world did not stop and I can promise you that there is so much waiting for you.” You for example. You always wanted to be closer to the captain of the sea guard, to hear his low voice speaking to you, his rough hands touching you. But you always held back your thoughts and never acted them out. Even now you are holding back. His peace of mind is now your priority. Your feelings come second. Elendil lifts his head, looking into your eyes as if he is trying to find something. And you look back, getting lost in his eyes that made your heart beat faster since the first time you laid your eyes on him. For a moment you two stayed like this, looking into each other's eyes, devouring each other's souls. You could feel how Elendil was pulling your hand, wanting you to come closer. And you do follow his lead, stepping closer, only inches between the both of you. When Elendil rises from the windowsill his eyes are fixed on you. You could feel the warmth that is beaming from his body, you could smell the saltiness of the sea that is lingering in his hair. Your heart and soul long for him, yearning that this moment will never end. Slowly, you lift your free hand up, wanting to caress his cheek, to finally feel his skin under your fingertips.

“Y/n, we need your help. There is an urgent matter.”

Just before you could taste the sweetness of this moment, you had to let it go. Unwillingly you drop your hand and it is hard for you to hide your disappointment. Just as you are about to turn around, tending to the next emergency, Elendil holds on tight to your hand, not wanting to let you go. For now.

“Meet me, tomorrow night at the beach where the moon shines the brightest.” You nod, whispering I will before you rush to your next patient, leaving Elendil and a sense of newfound hope behind.

To be continued ...

#ROP ELENDIL #ELENDILF #ELENDIL X READER #ELENDIL HEADCANONS #ELENDIL IMAGINE #ELENDIL FANFICTION #ELENDIL FLUFF #RINGS OF POWER #RINGS OF POWER IMAGINE #RINGS OF POWER MASTERLIST #RINGS OF POWER ELENDIL #LOTR RINGS OF POWER #ELENDIL/READER #elendil

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mattmurdocksscars · 20 days ago

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Injuries and Confessions

Hello, hello! This is my first Lucanis fic so I hope I did alright! Let me know what you think in the comments or with a reblog 💖

Characters: Lucanis, Fem!Rook, Emmerich, Teia, Viago, unnamed healer

Word count: 2184

One moment, Rook, Emmerich, and Lucanis are owning the battlefield. They move together as a unit, taking down foes and quipping to each other about their kills. Lucanis is sure they're going to win this fight.

The next, Rook is shoving Lucanis out of the way of an enemy and taking the blow meant for him. Lucanis watches in what feels like slow motion as Rook falls and doesn't get back up.

“Rook!” Lucanis isn't sure the sound comes from him at first. Spite is raging behind his eyes, and Lucanis forces himself to focus on the fight at hand. Spite's wings come out and Lucanis is unsure whether it is him or Spite that finishes off the remaining enemies. When the last one falls, they run to Rook who still has not moved.

Carefully they roll Rook over and Lucanis immediately sucks in a sharp breath.

“Mierda.” The wound is deep, and Lucanis feels dread fill him. Emmerich kneels across from him and examines the wound.

“We must get her to a healer. For now, see if you can get a potion in her.” Lucanis reaches for his supply of potions and pulls one out. He quickly uncorks it and holds it to Rook's mouth.

“Come on, Rook. Drink for me.” Her eyes flutter behind her eyelids before cracking open. He presses the potion to her lips and she manages to swallow most of it.

“W-What happened?” Rook croaks. Lucanis breathes a small sigh of relief, seeing her awake.

“You're hurt, Rook. We're going to get you to a healer.” Emmerich tells her. Her eyes flutter close again and Lucanis panics. He puts a hand on her cheek.

“Stay awake, Rook. You have to stay awake for me.” It doesn't work though and Rook's body goes slack in his arms.

“We need to move. Now.” Lucanis slips his arms under Rook’s back and legs and carefully picks her up, trying not to jostle her too much. She still makes a sound of pain and Lucanis can feel his heart break at the sound. Spite immediately responds.

“Get. Rook. Help!!”

“I'm trying.” Lucanis grumbles back to his other half, adjusting his grip to make sure he wouldn't hurt her further. Lucanis and Emmerich hurry away, heading for the casino. Lucanis hopes the healer is close by and not away on business. It takes some adjustments to make it to the casino but once they do, they hurry through the doors. Emmerich is first through and immediately calls for help. Teia and Viago are drawn in by the sound and gasp upon seeing Rook.

“What happened?” Viago asks as he leads them to a room on the side. Lucanis carefully sets Rook down on a bed. Teia takes the time to get a healer and she brings the older woman in. Even she lets out a curse at the sight of Rook's wound.

Lucanis feels his throat close. This was his fault. If he had been paying more attention, Rook wouldn't have had to shove him out of the way.

“Not. Our. Fault.” Spite says but Lucanis shakes his head and stays silent. Emmerich answers in his silence.

“It was the Antaam. She took a hard hit and went down.” The healer peels away Rook's top and Lucanis grimaces at the wound.

“Everyone out, except Teia. There's too many of you gathered around and I need quiet to work.”

“No!” Spite does not like being told to leave but Lucanis grits his teeth and turns to head for the door. But Spite apparently feels more strongly than Lucanis anticipated and the spirit rushes to the forefront of Lucanis's mind.

“No. Leave. Rook!!!” Spite growls. Everyone in the room turns to Lucanis, who is struggling to gain back control.

“Spite, it's to help her. We need to leave so that the healer may work uninterrupted.” Emmerich explains slowly.

“Lucanis, get your demon under control.” Viago tells him. It takes a minute but Lucanis is able to wrest back control from Spite, but the spirit shows his unhappiness by making their nose bleed.

“Lucanis-”

“I'm fine. Let's go.” Viago, Emmerich, and Lucanis shuffle out of the room, closing the door behind them. Spite rages in his head, throwing a tantrum that would rival a toddler's. Emmerich even grimaces at the volume. Viago watches the two of them warily. Lucanis pretends not to notice.

That's how they spend the time it takes for the healer to work on Rook. Lucanis is unsure of how much time actually passes but knows it feels like a lifetime. When the healer and Teia walk out, Lucanis immediately turns to them.

“Go. See. Rook.”

“Not yet.” Lucanis mumbles. He waits impatiently for the healer to speak. She sighs and cleans her hands with a rag.

“Your friend will be alright, but she needs rest. I've done everything I can for her. Her body will need time to heal and recover.” The older woman says. Lucanis feels bad that he doesn't know her name but there are bigger concerns for him.

“We should get Rook back to the Lighthouse.” Emmerich says but the healer shakes her head.

“You will need to wait until she awakens at the very least. Moving her now is not a good idea.” Lucanis crosses his arms over his chest and nods. Emmerich nods as well and thanks the woman for her help. She leaves them with instructions on how to care for Rook's wound.

“We. Need. To see. Rook!” Spite growls in Lucanis's mind, the spirit raging against his skull. Emmerich gives him a sympathetic glance then gestures to the room.

“Lucanis, why don't you watch over Rook? I'll return to the Lighthouse to let the others know what has happened. I'll return in a couple hours to see if she has awakened.” Lucanis is already walking towards the door by the time Emmerich finishes speaking. He says a quick thank you to Teia and Viago, then opens the door and steps in.

The room is quiet, aside from Rook's breathing. Lucanis hesitates for just a moment before he finds himself walking over to Rook. Glancing down at her when he reaches her side, he feels a lump in his throat. Her torso is wrapped and he can smell the elfroot from where he's standing. The bandages are already staining red over the wound.

“Damnit, Rook…” he murmurs. “Why would you do something so foolish?”

Rook is silent, as expected. Lucanis drops down into the chair by her bed and puts his head in his hand. He itches to hold her hand that lies closest to him but he doesn't allow himself the luxury.

Time passes by slowly. Every second Rook stays unconscious is a second of hell for Lucanis. Spite is oddly quiet now that they're in the room with Rook. But Lucanis's mind is a flurry of thoughts. He wonders why she would do such a thing, what was going through her mind when she did it, if she'll be angry with him for not noticing the attack sooner.

His thoughts distract him enough that he almost doesn't realize Rook is waking up. A soft groan pulls him back to reality though and his head snaps up to watch Rook.

Her eyes blink open slowly and she tries to sit up, only to hiss in pain and lay back down. Lucanis immediately lurches forward and gently puts his hand on her shoulder.

“Lie still, Rook. You're injured pretty badly.” He says softly. Rook's attention shifts to him then and he braces himself for her anger. Instead he sees relief on her face.

“Lucanis… you're okay?” She asks. He nods and she relaxes into the bed.

“What happened? I remember we were fighting, but not much else.” She says. Lucanis swallows past the lump that suddenly forms in his throat.

“You pushed me out of the way and took a hit meant for me.” Lucanis admits. Rook is silent for a few moments, making Lucanis want to squirm, before she nods.

“Sounds exactly like something I would do.” Lucanis raises his eyebrows in surprise at her nonchalance.

“You're not angry?”

“Why would I be angry?”

“I should have seen that Antaam coming. I should have been able to move in time. If I had, you wouldn't have been-”

“Lucanis. We all have blindspots. Even master assassins. Plus, in the heat of battle with that many enemies, it's hard to keep track. I don't blame you for something I chose to do.”

Lucanis lets out a soft breath, looking at Rook hard. It is her turn to raise her eyebrows at his stern look.

“Why did you even do it? You could have gotten yourself killed! What were you thinking?” Lucanis asks, a tinge of anger in his voice. Rook looks sheepish and Spite speaks up for the first time in a while.

“Do not. Yell. At Rook.”

“Stay out of it, Spite.” Lucanis growls. Rook raises an eyebrow, curious over what the demon said. But Lucanis doesn't elaborate, he simply stares at Rook and waits for an answer. Rook closes her eyes for a moment then sighs.

“I did it because the thought of you dying does something to me. I can't… I can't lose you, Lucanis. I care too much about you.” Rook admits. Lucanis blinks in shock and feels his face warm at the idea of Rook caring for him. Rook looks away from him and sighs.

“I know you don't want to get in to anything because of Spite. And I respect that. But you deserve to know how I feel.” Rook continues. Lucanis feels his stomach twist at her words. Spite. It always comes back to the demon. Before he can say anything though, Rook is speaking again.

“You should also know that Spite doesn't bother me. If you ever changed your mind, Spite wouldn't be a problem for me.”

“Tell. Rook. How we. Feel?” Spite asks. Lucanis sighs through his nose. Being hit from both sides makes it seem like he's the one overreacting. But the idea of getting into a relationship with Rook is a terrifying one. While Rook has seen his mind and seen the darkest parts of him, he doesn't know if she really understands what all it entails. Spite and him are working together more often than not lately though. He can't deny that entering into a relationship with Rook is something he wants.

“Rook, I-” Lucanis cuts himself off though when Emmerich enters the room.

“Rook! You're awake!” He says, not realizing what he just interrupted. Rook forces a smile at Emmerich.

“Emmerich. It's good to see you.” Rook says.

“We were waiting for you to wake up. I thought I heard voices in here so I thought I would check on you. Do you think you could make it back to the Lighthouse? I am sure you will feel better in your own space.” Rook nods and slowly tries to sit up. Lucanis can't help but to reach over and assist her. The smile she gives him is tight. He hates that he's once again made her feel like he doesn't want her. It couldn't be further from the truth. But he resigns himself to staying silent.

Together, Emmerich and Lucanis help Rook stand and then help her make her way to the Eluvian. She says a quick thank you to Teia and Viago on their way. Once back at the Lighthouse and back in her room, Rook lays on the chaise. Lucanis produces a blanket from somewhere and lays it over her. Emmerich quietly excuses himself and Lucanis finds himself sitting next to Rook on the chaise. He debates saying anything but then steels himself.

“Rook. You can't put yourself in danger like that again. The world can't afford to lose you.” Rook's face screws up but before she can say anything, Lucanis cuts her off. “I can't afford to lose you. Especially not like that. You were right earlier, about me not being ready for anything. But you also deserve to know how I feel. How we feel. Spite cares about you just as much as I do and we'll do anything to keep you safe. But we can't do that if you throw yourself into danger every chance you get.”

“Lucanis…” He places a hand on her face and she leans into it.

“I can't give you a relationship right now. And for that I'm sorry. But never doubt that I, we, care for you.” Lucanis is afraid of her response but she simply nods and breathes out a soft okay.

“Will you stay with me? Until I fall asleep?” Rook asks, her voice timid. Lucanis is helpless against her plea.

“Of course, Rook.”

And so he stays by her side, long after her breath evens out and she slips into sleep. Watching her be so vulnerable so willingly around him stirs something in him and he vows in that moment to figure out his shit so he can finally be with her.

Until then, he'll watch over her like an avenging angel.

#lucanis x rook #lucanis dellamorte #lucanis x fem!rook #my writing #lucanis dellamorte x rook

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aladaylessecondblog · 3 months ago

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Red Mountain Waffle House, pt. 14

Author's Note: Angst & misunderstandings

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

Somehow or the other she had been drawn to the Shrine of Azura. Before falling in with that group of former slaves in Zebabi, Sadara had looked into where the shrine was, and figuring Azura would have some answers, headed over that way.

The priests sold her some glow dust, and she made the offering as the sun was going down.

"Azura," she said, "I don't ask for you to do me any favors - I just want answers. With the prophecies, and all that - was I the Nerevarine? I mean clearly I'm not fulfilling them, so did I have ANY purpose here? What was it?"

There was a pause, a slight breeze, and then a voice in her mind.

"You have served the purpose I set out for you."

"What purpose?"

"You ensured Nerevar's bones were brought to Dagoth Ur." A pause. "There have been many Nerevarines, and you were meant to be the last. So many have failed, and you remain...the cycle repeated, in my vain hope one of you would follow the prophecies. But there have been too many failures - and so I have chosen a different path."

"What path?" Sadara felt her stomach drop. You have served your purpose.

"Nerevar will surely follow my will and destroy the Tribunal; he was ever faithful in life, and I see no reason that his loyalty should fail now. I am glad of your assistance, but your part in this is done."

She turned away without saying anything more.

Fuck Azura. Fuck everyone...except maybe Jiub.

Nothing had changed. Nothing would ever change.

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

Traveling about and killing cliffracers was okay for a week or so, but on using her name in Molag Mar, she'd drawn some attention. The healer had looked up, and gone, "Sadara? What're you doing here?"

"Working," she said, "Cliffracer plumes sell for a decent amount."

"You're working? Why?"

"For a living? Why does anyone work?" she shrugged.

"There are some people looking for you--"

The moment her wounds were closed she left, and bought a cloak to cover herself a bit better on the way out. Why would they be looking for her? They had the bones, the moon-and-star, the heirloom ring of Dagoth Ur's. What more could they want her for? Gilvoth had made pretty clear she wasn't wanted there. But then something else occurred to her--the Tribunal temple would probably want to see her gone still, despite her showing no inclination to fulfill the prophecies. She'd handed over Nerevar's bones, they might have linked her to the one who'd stolen the bones in the first place...b&e, theft, some sort of heresy charge, that'd put her away for a while. And that was if the ordinators didn't outright kill her.

Whatever goodwill she'd built with Vivec when she'd done that favor of getting the tattoo was surely burned away now...and Almalexia, she was another thing entirely.

She left Molag Mar, and thereon stopped using her name.

When she cleared the slavers' cave of Zebabi and freed the khajiit and argonians, they had asked her name. She'd thought for a moment, and said, "Nammu."

Finding out about Fyr's offer to pay for blood had come as a result of one of the argonians, Chalureel, who'd said the slavers had dragged him up to Fyr to give his blood. He was some rare type or the other, and seemed overwhelmed with the idea that the sum paid to the slavers would go to him now.

Sadara agreed to stay with them until they all figured out what they'd do with their newfound freedom. The presence of a Dunmer could handwave some things away, avoid some types of trouble...

The morning after she cleared the cave she asked Chalureel to go up to Tel Fyr with her.

"It's a city unto itself," he said, after giving a description of the route they'd need to take, "There's a lot of things there we could get ahold of, especially if your blood's a type they want."

Fyr was a reclusive sort, but those that worked for him obviously needed places to stay, and a tiny medical school of excellent reputation had popped up, and then there were all the services THEY needed--

The point being, there would be plenty of places to hawk what they didn't need of the slavers' things, and to buy what supplies they needed. She'd sold enough bandits' gear after coming to Morrowind to have a reasonably good discerning eye on the most common stuff. Daggers, leather armor, spell scrolls.

"Alright, so do we have enough water here? Not the salt kind," Sadara said, "How many bedrolls do we need to buy? You all deserve to sleep on more than just the ground like you've been doing."

A list was put together of the things they'd need, and while she and Chalureel were going to Tel Fyr, the rest would head to the shore to do some fishing and foraging.

"It rains fairly frequently here," Chalureel said, "So a rain barrel might be a good idea. The water in the cave...is not exactly clean, because of those slaughterfish the--slavers were keeping. We could boil it, but..."

"We can buy some bottled water at Tel Fyr and get a rain barrel, or something like it, and boil the water here if it's absolutely necessary. There's some cooking supplies here, so we've got a pot for it...we've got the list, so let's head out."

The blood donation didn't take all that long. It was mainly filling out the forms and negotiating for things other than money that took extra time.

In exchange for a reduced payment she managed to wrangle out getting a couple potions and to be taught Restore Health with the first donation of her own blood. Fireball she figured would be next - that would make the campfires a bit easier to start up. Then a frost spell, so they could have form up a crude refrigerator somewhere in the cave.

They were kept another hour and give some orange juice, and healed up just to be safe. Then they went shopping.

The rain barrel angle didn't pan out, but they got several jugs and bottles of water, as well as some dried fish, a couple kwama eggs, saltrice, and some shein. A box of rations from a surplus store. It felt like a wealth of food, what was in that box...

But the real treat came when she spent what she'd put aside for herself. It wasn't much, only twenty gold, but she got a new robe, the first bit of clothing she'd bought in ages that wasn't from a secondhand store.

And a green candle. There had been red ones. Smelling them had given a scent of cinnamon and memory of Jolene--Dagoth Ur, her mind corrected her. That look in the picture that had buoyed her for a little while, made her feel adored, what might have been the first stirrings of love, but which now--

Surely you understand it has always been Lord Nerevar that he wants?

The words reminding her that she was to stay in her place, that she was not to reach for anything better.

She put the red candle back and hurried along with Chalureel, whose own treat seemed to be four bags of cheese puffs. The remainder that they weren't saving went to a couple bottles of soda and some off-brand chocolate the others liked.

At last they headed back, and she thought that evening, on looking at what had been the slave pen and was now her room, that all things considered this was better than she'd had in a while, even if there wasn't any plumbing here.

It was a roof over her head, food in her stomach, and a safe place to sleep. That was all it used to take to keep her happy, and it would have to be enough now.

If she just kept believing it, maybe it would be true.

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

When Jiub saw the golden-skinned mer approaching the Waffle House a week after the last sleeper, at first he wondered why an Altmer that clean was coming out here.

Then the door opened, and the new waiter dropped to his knees. "Saint Nerevar!"

"Rise," the mer, Nerevar apparently, replied, "I have--to speak to your cook."

"Of course, of course." The waiter moved in close and said, "Be on your best behavior."

"Right." Jiub shrugged, and the waiter headed off to clean the bathroom, or smoke, or something - he didn't really pay attention. Once the man was out of earshot he looked to Nerevar.

"Is Sadara not here? The Sleepers keep saying she doesn't work here any longer."

Jiub scoffed. "And their word wasn't good enough for you?"

"Where is she?"

"She doesn't live with me anymore, if that's what you mean. Do you want coffee? Eggs?"

"Where--where did she go?" Nerevar's voice was more insistent now.

"As if I'm going to tell you."

"Look--" Nerevar's tone went stern, in what Jiub supposed was his military-leader voice. "--you need to tell me where she is."

"Why should I do that?" Jiub turned, and kept one hand in his right front pocket, where he'd moved his box cutter to. "Huh? The volcano man not quite what you expected?"

"There has been a misunderstanding--"

"Misunderstanding!" Jiub laughed harshly. "Oh yes, Sadara didn't even come home afterwards, I'd say it was more than just a fucking--get out. Now."

"Who do you think you are?"

"The man who knows where she is. So I suggest you keep your hands to yourself. I fucked up your wife, I can fuck you up too."

"She's not my wife anymore, I don't--this isn't about her. I want to know where Sadara is, so I can bring her back to Red Mountain."

"What, to be mocked some more? Do you need a punching bag so you don't get bored?"

Nerevar glared in a way Jiub assumed was meant to intimidate him. It didn't work.

"That was never what was intended."

"Really, what was intended? Because whatever was said was bad enough she didn't even repeat it to me, and she tells me everything. Just said it was nothing we hadn't heard before." Jiub crossed his arms. "Why should I tell you fucking anything when you're the reason she's like this?"

"The person she talked to--did not--" Nerevar groaned, and buried his face in his hands before looking back up. "How do I convince you I don't mean her harm? I only want her to take the place that's rightfully hers now. I thought--we hadn't seen her, so we assumed she must not have been interested in being Lady Dagoth. Then one of the Sleepers let us know she DID show up, and we simply hadn't been told about it."

"Yeah, she delivered your bones," Jiub replied, "You'd think you'd be more grateful."

"I didn't KNOW! One of Voryn's brothers turned her away and--look, I just want to correct the situation. I want to make things right. Then you won't see me again."

"It's her seeing you I'm worried about. Why should I trust you, eh? Give me one good reason not to hurl your ass out like Jazz." Jiub thought for a few moments, then cracked his knuckles. "Tell you what...if you kick my ass well enough, I'll tell you where she is."

A pause.

"Are you game for it? Or are you a big golden chicken?"

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

The kagouti hunt was not going very well.

They had enough to eat, but Sadara had headed out into the blight storm since she was immune to the blight, saying it'd probably be a good idea to get some fresh meat anyway. The slaughterfish in Zebabi's water (Gish, oddly enough, seemed to think of them as children) were happy enough with scraps, but...leftovers surely weren't healthy for them

In reality she preferred not to while away her time in Zebabi. Even with the others around it was too quiet, and if things were too quiet she'd start thinking.

And if she started thinking, she'd just end up making herself miserable. No. Better to get outside and actually DO something, until she was tired enough she'd go right to sleep when she got back.

But the blight winds were thicker than usual--or at least, thicker than she was used to--and she found herself stumbling along the paths, groping along the rocky mountainside to keep a sense of which direction she was going in. She was almost afraid to pull out her phone. Suppose it blew away, in all this wind?

Sadara took another step, leaned harder when a gust of red ashy wind blew right in her face--and fell into darkness.

"FUCK!" she screamed, and thanked any gods who might be listening that she'd had the Fyr people teach her the Light spell last time she was up there.

It looked like she'd fallen into some kind of hallway...a long corridor, there were visible doors along it. She'd think it was a dwemer ruin if it wasn't for the tombish look about it, and the lack of brass accents.

She set her quiver down to mark the spot, and then headed down the hallway. The doors opened, and she saw ash pits, with offerings covered in dust. Clearly, no one had been here in ages and ages.

A ghost or two rose...but gave her only a look before meandering about the room.

Probably a really old Hlaalu tomb.

She'd been to one or two tombs and left small offerings, but had never actually seen the ghosts wandering around like people had reported. Here, though...they seemed to be everywhere here. Some of the older looking ones ignored her, while a young one or two followed her for a while. Most vanished when she looked at them directly.

Then she came to a larger room--and the ash pit here was much, much larger than any of the others she'd seen.

As with some of the others, a ghost rose from the ashes.

This one, rather than looking at her and then quickly away, fixed her with a keen gaze that didn't once break away.

"Who are you?"

"My name's Sadara," she said, "I'm sorry, I fell into the tomb from the outside. I don't mean any disrespect. ...though I assume you must all know that already, since no one's attacked me."

"You must have married into the house," the ghostly woman said. "There is no other explanation."

"This isn't a house Hlaalu tomb?"

A snort.

"Oblivion, no. This is a House Dagoth tomb."

Sadara immediately started to back out of the room. "Well, I guess...I guess I'm technically one of you, but the marriage...isn't going to last."

"Isn't going to last? When the one you married has been rude enough not to bring you here to introduce you to the family..."

"It wasn't the one I married, but one of his--brothers that told me." Sadara shrugged. "I married him drunk, his brother said it was a mistake, and with Nerevar there again--look, I'll get out of your hair."

"No, no, stay. Stay, tell me what happened. The man you married, was it one of Voryn's brothers?"

"It was Voryn himself, and one of his brothers to--why am I telling you? It's probably getting annulled soon, I won't be part of the House for much longer."

"You shouldn't let yourself be shoved out so easily. Any Lady Dagoth should be strong enough to form herself a place. Voryn's brothers have ever been overprotective of the family honor and nobility--they tried to push off Nerevar, and now they are trying to push off you. With the same tricks, I imagine. But just like Nerevar, you--"

Sadara turned and bolted out the door, back down the hallway, ignoring every attempt by the ghosts she passed to call her back.

Just like Nerevar.

All she wanted was to escape that name, to escape his shadow, but every attempt seemed to deepen the trap she was in.

How long do I have to live in his shadow?

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

The blight storm hadn't let up in the least by the time she returned to the cave--and with her arm raised to protect her eyes she didn't nothing the ordinator standing just inside the cave. He stood straight and pointed his spear at her when she approached.

"Who are you?"

"S--Nammu, I live here!" Sadara corrected herself, "Don't tell me it's been seized!"

"Not seized. ...temporarily commandeered," the ordinator said, "Go inside...but there are more of us in there, and if you step out of line you'll be dealt with."

Great, she thought, just great. As if I needed more problems right now.

She went on inside, noting there weren't that many extra ordinators inside, or rather, not as many as she expected. Nuralg was the first to see her, and shook her head on being told the hunt hadn't gone well.

"This one could have told you it was a bad idea to hunt in blight winds. The only thing one can catch out there right now is a blight disease. Dinner will be ready in a bit...but there is someone occupying your room. You'll have to have a chat with her."

The her in question was entirely a surprise. No sooner did she open the little door (which was flanked by two more ordinators) than she laid eyes on--

"Queen Barenziah?"

"Sadara!"

Both were equally surprised to see one another. Sadara walked forward, trying to think of how to not explain the situation to her.

"What are you doing out here?" was the queen's first question.

"The job didn't pan out. What're you--this doesn't seem the kind of place you'd frequent." Sadara gave a faint smile.

"I was making a trip to Tel Fyr for an injection...I've got something called rheumatoid arthritis, and I would far rather have the doctors do it than trust the job to a maid or to my shaking hands. The blight storm grew stronger while we were trying to sail by, and...well, we took shelter here, not knowing anyone had already made it a home."

"It's not too bad here, provided you fluff your pillow up well enough. And have a good bedroll. Maybe it's a bit too quiet, that's my only complaint."

"Besides not having running water?" Barenziah laughed slightly. "It reminds me of the old days, but...I prefer not to go back unless necessary."

There was a pause, and for that silence Sadara thought that no more would be said.

But of course, she would later think, she could not be so lucky.

"Hunting cliffracers?" she asked, "I expected you could find another job waiting tables up in the north, with your experience."

"I wanted to get away from the region," Sadara replied quietly. She shrugged a moment later. "Lot of drama went on...Almalexia turned up, and there was...a time I got very drunk, and...it's all behind me now."

Barenziah fixed her with a Look.

"What?" she asked, "I think I actually prefer living here over that shithole I was living in. It's by the ocean, it rains more often, and..."

No response.

"I do pay attention to the online discourses, you know," the queen mother started again, "And I can put two and two together."

"I don't want to talk about it," Sadara replied quickly. "Please, let's just talk about something else."

Literally anything else. She simply wanted to keep her mind off the Situation. Eventually that ache would peter out and everything would be as it was before. Everything went down the drain anyway, eventually this would too.

"Answer a few questions, and then I will speak no more of it. I already know about this infamous marriage of yours, and I simply want to know--"

"Do I have a choice?" Sadara slumped slightly.

A few questions and then this'd be over. Barenziah would leave, and she'd get on making the best of this place.

"Did you get thrown out?"

"Not out of my apartment, no, I just didn't go back. There wasn't much to go back for."

"And Dagoth Ur?"

"I haven't seen him since the night the wedding happened. When I visited the--that palace he lives in, all I saw was his brother. If I hadn't left he'd have put me out."

"You poor thing," Barenziah's tone was sympathetic, "This is what I was trying to warn you about. These men will use you and cast you aside the moment you are no longer useful to them."

"I...I brought him Nerevar's bones. Thought we'd have to talk anyway. But...I guess he didn't want to talk..."

You have served the purpose I set out for you.

She gulped slightly. "Anyway...I suppose you'll be staying overnight. We can feed the lot of you, but it'll be a bit tight...not what you're used to, I'm sure."

"We've got some stores of our own to add, if you're inclined to make a stew. Or if you're not, I like my entourage to be well prepared." There was a pause. "I apologize for pressing, but...if you'd like the marriage annulled, I'm sure--"

"No, let him live with the stain." The venom in her tone surprised even Sadara, and she shook her head. "The only revenge I can have right now is that my name is still linked with House Dagoth. He has Nerevar now, and he'll want to marry him soon, which'll mean he'll want my signature on the divorce papers."

She'd seen how easy it could be to get a divorce in Morrowind. Thirty days apart--and they were fast closing in on that number--no matter how short a time it had been since the wedding--with papers signed, and that would be that.

It could be as if it had never been.

"Maybe I can get a bribe out of it. They want to call me a gold-digger, maybe I should just quit trying, and...and give them what they're--"

She took in a sharp breath.

Barenziah's open arms was all it took.

Sadara sank into them, sobbing, and wasn't aware of very much else for a long while afterward.

Just this time. I will let myself be sad just this time. But no one else will get to see it. No one else.

#fanfiction #morrowind #nerevarine #azura #fuck azura all my homies hate azura #jiub #nerevar #indoril nerevar #barenziah #tes #tesblr #elder scrolls

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yumecel · 1 year ago

Text

the slowest death 💙

yandere!dabi/reader | 1.6k

summary: you didn’t even think the PLF would bother tracking you down. one member proves you wrong

character specifics: slightly ooc for fic purposes i suppose

reader specifics: gn reader

world specifics: probably a far longer gap from dabis video to the war arc than is canon? sorry for any inaccuracies of living under the PLF i wasnt paying attention

tws: stalking, mention of murder via burning, dabi being a creep

a/n: christening this blog with the man thats been driving me wild recently. im so rusty! please forgive me

——💙——

i promise i’m 18+, i promise i’m okay with seeing dark content, i know this will haunt me in the world to come should i lie [yes⬇️] [no↩️]

You can’t stop seeing him.

Skulking into street corners, under flickering lamps, your peripheral vision, all permeated with the silhouette of a man you only expect to see on screens. When you close your eyes, he persists as an afterimage. Blue eyes burn into yours.

You’ve been having trouble sleeping.

Sometimes you lock yourself in your bathroom to watch that video of him, Dabi- now confirmed as Touya Todoroki. You drag your laptop with you and you search up information about him, trying to keep track of his current movements to confirm your suspicions. It feels like there’s eyes everywhere. It feels like he’s everywhere.

It’s not like you haven’t seen him up close before. You think that’s why this is probably happening. Months prior, under the direction of the Paranormal Liberation Front, you’d used your quirk on him- you’d cupped his cheek gently and allowed the soothing water to roll over it, clearing away a minor burn that was nothing compared to the rest of his scars. You remember it vividly because he closed his eyes. That’s not the issue, many people do, but you almost couldn’t believe the expression of tranquility that crossed his face. On the screens, in leaked footage, Dabi often presents himself with a chilling calmness or a maniacal grin. The total relaxation of his features and the removal of defences was foreign. And when it happened, you’d observed closely. Every piercing, every staple, every mark. You just happen to like observing the effects of your quirk on other people, and Dabi was no exception. When it was over, he’d murmured something barely discernible as a “thanks” and walked off. You thought his back would be the last you’d see of him in person, save for a few brief appearances with other PLF members. But he kept coming back to you, minor burn after minor burn, cut, scrape, bruise. He hardly ever talked, but he was so bold. He laid his head in your lap and there was an unspoken understanding that taking advantage of this vulnerability would result in dire consequences for you. Dabi always ensured his absolute privacy before settling down, and you believe you became something of a refuge for him. But you didn’t think there was anything special about you save for convenience, and you certainly had more “regulars” than just him. Dabi didn’t appear to be particularly attached to you as a person so much as your quirk.

Your clientele eventually died, perhaps literally, perhaps they just stopped coming after finding another healer, leaving only Dabi asking for your services. To make money and a future, you had to move, and you did so quickly and without fanfare. You were planning to leave that chapter of your life behind entirely.

But Dabi keeps haunting you.

You think you’re wrong. You should be wrong. You don’t know if you’re wrong.

It’s true that you’re technically on the run from the PLF, but you didn’t believe they would be particularly keen to expend effort on tracking you down. You are after all, only a healer, and have no specific abilities to boost other quirks. Quirks that soothe others can be found everywhere and you doubt they’d struggle tracking down more like them, and there’s already an abundance of regular doctors at their fingertips. Your ability to both soothe and heal is something that can be replaced easily enough.

Put simply, the costs of capturing you far outweigh the costs of letting you run free. The PLF knows they manage secrecy fairly well. They have nothing to worry about.

So when Dabi started lurking around the edges of your vision, you thought-

“They’re going to make an example of me.”

That could be the only reason. Being killed by Dabi is complete overkill. Your quirk may involve water but you don’t stand a chance against quelling his flames. There would be no epic fight, and you’re fully aware that engaging with him would lead to your death within five minutes. That’s if he grants you the mercy of a quick death. There’s nothing holding him back from prolonging your suffering for hours, even days. You shudder every time you think about it, a million ways he could kill you flashing before your eyes.

He doesn’t kill you quite yet. He’s toying with you.

The inside of your shabby apartment starts looking substantially shabbier. He must be letting himself in regularly. Somehow, somehow he has obtained a key, and now he’s snooping around. You accept that death awaits… for the first week, at least. Perhaps he’ll find you have nothing of interest to the PLF and leave. All you do is keep living as normal, praying some great distraction for him will arise and this will pass. Every day, you show up to work- a small, urban spa where you’re free to offer your services of pain relief under the guise of massage, never disclosing openly that you’re using your quirk. It’s custom to do so if you don’t want to draw attention to yourself, but clients generally know through word-of-mouth that quirks are used. The additional layer of protection was meant to shield you from the PLF, but it all seems useless now.

You can hear your phone buzz as you massage a client’s back. You try to pretend it never happened, and she seems undisturbed. You wonder what it could be, since after clearing your phone very few people have your new contact details. You manage to check it once the client shuffles out the door, thanking you airily.

It’s an email. The subject matter reads, “Hi Sweetheart!”

Spam.

But you still open it.

——————

Subject: Hi Sweetheart!

I really couldn’t resist digging around your laptop today. Imagine how flattered I felt when I saw all your previous searches had to do with me. Curious, are we? I can just imagine your scared little face as you scroll through videos of me, wondering when you’ll see me again. I guess what I found cute is that you have my confession video bookmarked. Did you save it for… personal reasons? You had plenty of time to look at me without a shirt on when you were working. I guess you can’t get enough of me.

But I can’t act like I wouldn’t do the same if you were someone I could just look up online- but I’m a good researcher without the internet. I tracked you down without a lot of effort. And I’ve been learning so much about you recently. So much that I’ve reached a dead end. There are things I need to know about you that wouldn’t be found on your laptop or in your apartment…

Maybe I’ll see you when you get home.

You know who I am.

——————

Feeling sick to your stomach, you scroll up, thumb trembling.

It’s sent from your own email address.

——💙——

You don’t have anywhere to go but your apartment, yet returning to it feels like such a stupid move. The police, let alone pro heroes, hardly go to that part of town. You stay an hour longer at the spa. You hope this will throw off Dabi, allowing you to dive in, grab your stuff, and equip yourself to leave forever. The passiveness that came with being a sitting duck has left your body. Confronted with death, you know it’s time to fight for survival.

Your phone buzzes again.

Another email.

——————

Subject: I won’t hurt you

You think I don’t know where you work? I can just as easily come to you and torch the place. I’m willing to play nice, so don’t insist on being difficult.

——————

A coworker remarks that you look sickly and insists you go home. You nod slowly, not saying much as you start to get ready to leave. When you stumble out of the door, the bell above you sounds like it’s ringing several rooms away. Nothing feels real.

Buzz.

——————

Subject: You can email me too

You know that right?

Still holing yourself up in that spa? Need me to walk you home? Coming home?

——————

You send one to yourself.

——————

Subject: Im on my way

[No body text]

——————

Buzz.

——————

Subject: Good.

[No body text]

——————

——💙——

You don’t bother putting your keys in the door. It opens regardless. With a dry mouth, you swallow, looking around and taking tentative steps further into your apartment.

He deliberately approaches from behind, which you were expecting, but you still yelp out when his warm presence meets your back, arms wrapping around you.

“No ‘Honey, I’m home’?” He snickers. You don’t struggle. You freeze, breath caught in your throat. When he holds you a little tighter, it’s like he pushes you over the edge.

“I’m sorry,” You begin. “I can come back. Are you going to kill me? Please don’t kill me. I can tell you anything you need. I don’t know what I can offer you, if, if you want to stay here, I can-“

He squeezes tighter, making a gentle shushing sound. Your body starts to feel like dead weight. You look down, eyeing the scars on his hands and counting staples in an attempt to ground yourself back in reality.

“It’s not about leaving the PLF, doll. Y’understand?”

You nod frantically, shoulders raising, even if you don’t fully understand. He loosens his hold on you on a little, before coming so close to your ear that you can feel his hot breath.

“It’s about leaving me.”

“Leaving you?” You say, voice barely managing to come out.

“You think I wouldn’t miss my favourite healer?” He croons.

“I…” You begin. “… everyone left. I couldn’t make money and I didn’t have prospects.”

“You’re welcome,” He says, inhaling slightly. “I took care of everyone else.”

“That’s…”

Ominous.

“But you just had to leave, right? Before I snapped you up for myself permanently? Before I got to know you better?”

“I’m- I’m not-“

“Shh, doll. I don’t want those hands on anyone but me from now on. Start packing your necessities and get ready to come home.”

He releases you, causing you to fall to your knees with a dull thud. You were at the mercy of the man behind you.

This, you realised, was the slowest death you could die.

#yandere dabi #yandere!dabi #yandere bnha #yandere mha #yandere!dabi/reader #yandere!dabi x reader #post ID: yumecel1

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imaginesofeverykind · 8 months ago

Text

Witches Brew ~ Chapter 4

Summary: To practice magic is to slight God with the devil's embrace. It is evil, sin, consuming and the price one pays is never worth what one seeks. Yet people, in times of desperation often turn to desperate measures, in Aegon’s case, medicinal remedy is not an option. No healer can undo what has been done. But the Hag tucked away behind reeds, water topped with algae and the voracious bog may be able to. For a price.

Warnings: Blood and Gore, Character Death, catholic-centric monotheism demonised

Tags: DnD Fusion AU, Targaryens are noblefolk, Aegon is a werewolf.

Word Count: 6.1k

Chapter Song: ‘O’Death’ Theme (Until Dawn Soundtrack) - Jeff Grace, Amy Van Roekel

SORRY THIS IS TWO WEEKS LATE !!! I literally got slammed at work two weeks in a row, i did so much OT and im SORRY but here she is yall :’(((((

Series Masterlist

You’re Back. The void bringing a sense of unnerving, and much like it had been the previous time — overstimulated the senses tenfold like a barrage of everything all at once. You move, but there is no feeling of your legs carrying you, just that you have moved from point to point with no memory of getting there. It was a more disorienting form of how you materialize from one place to the other, except in the prime realm you knew where you were going.

Here, there was nothing to determine a position or place other than the faint sense of knowing you weren’t in the same place. A droning of magical song ebbs and flows, louder or softer depending on whichever direction you appear to be going. Perhaps spirits are reaching out or even the Gods, faintly you recall Auntie speaking in hushed whispers whenever she reached out to Syrrelio, God of Blood, and think for a moment that this may be his domain.

Though you wait, there is no voice calling from the great beyond, no divine message flowing through you or even a presence to indicate a greater celestial presence. There was something, however. A beacon of warmth beckoning you in the void, barely detectable but the heat was like being in close proximity of a large fire during a winter blizzard.

Finally, the small glimmer of light sparkles like a flare against the abyssal backdrop of pitch black darkness. At first you think your eyes are playing tricks on you, but it flickers again and there is an instant and urgent pull to go to whatever has your attention. An exit from this madness? Maybe so, but it was an answer you would not get this visit.

A violent and abrupt flash of light from the sun’s spotty beams cutting through the trees of the kitchen window jerk you back to the prime realm. There is a moment of utter confusion as you take in the surroundings with care, the hut remains in tact and in normal shabby condition, but the cause of confusion is that you are standing over the table with a sprig of dried Goodberry clutched in your hands hovering over the Mortar and Pestle.

Strange.

These… episodes… weren’t something brought on by sleeping it seemed. They were involuntary, like someone - or better yet - something was trying to send a message. It was only slightly unnerving to say the least, but shakily you continued on creating the healing brew like you weren’t just psychically accosted by an unseen force or entity.

The days were short but slowly dragged on a little later each day, now that Dead Winter’s Day had been to pass. Snow was still falling in excess, marking a relatively relentless bitter winter as the trees of the swamp withered and the bottle brush shrubs discoloured from frostburn. It wasn’t just the cold that swept through the dreary feeling across the swamp, you could sense that despite restoring Ornmirs shrine it had not settled the spirit.

Her unstable energy seemed to entice more malevolent creatures to the area, Stirges were now the least of your problems.

Your current problem required more attention — this evenings full moon was a mere few hours away judging by the soft sweeping darkness encasing the swamp and Aegon was yet to arrive. Since he started coming to see you he had been relatively punctual, often arriving midday at the earliest or mid-afternoon at the latest but never this close to dark.

It deeply concerned you, more than expected and it only slightly embarrassed you. The deep inner voices within your mind were at a battle, one half expressing urgent distress and beckoning to go and investigate, the other half was trying its best to reason and that there was nothing to worry about.

Today, it seemed, anxiety was much louder than reason. That paired with the unpleasant feeling that twisted inside your gut was reason enough for you to throw on your cloak and disappear into nothing, appearing back in reality inside the Fortress that overlooked Oldtown. He’d be beside himself if he hurt anyone, is what you tell yourself to not feel flustered and to justify why you’re going to him. Deep down you know he cared little for those inside the stony fort, only his siblings had the privilege.

Your hood concealed a great deal of your face and the cloak hid the rest of your attire, aware that you didn’t exactly look like the typical local roaming. It was disturbingly quiet which was odd enough considering it was renowned for housing belligerently loud swordsmen and knights.

And yet, as you cross the courtyard with a purpose it was as quiet as a chapel. Your eyes scanned the few people, some were holy men, some were servants and others were simple folk or traders but not a single notable individual in sight. Time was not on your side, as you give the darkening sky a despondent look before quickly making haste to the West Wing of the building.

Living quarters were located within the West Wing and if Aegon had any sense, he’d have locked himself in his room lest he be set loose to attack any ignorant wanderer. The lack of people around may have been a blessing in disguise, making things easier to lurk around without fear of being caught.

Most of the holy men were headed to the East Wing, where you had to assume the inbuilt chapel was since for the last three corridors you only passed servants who looked at you with curious glances but said nothing or alerted anyone. This corridor in particular inlaid carved stone, a garish green rug trailed from end to end with golden accents and the holy symbol of their false god reminded you how much you despised their religion.

The thought had barely registered in your head, softly stepping on the carpet and past a door that was half open.

”— and what of Aegon?”

Hearing his name pricked your ears and forced you to come to a stop, the voice was raspy, struggling to speak and airy. Viserys, was the first thought that came to your head, shocked slightly at how quickly he sounded to be deteriorating. You lean against the carvings that lined the door, not caring to look up and inspect whatever lavish artistry has been wasted on accenting what amounted to a door hole.

“If I may speak plainly, my Lord… Aegon… he is a sinner.” Another voice, older but more confident. A priest. You think, a holy devoted man. “He has been unfit to take over long before you became ill, you must know this, your Lady wife knows this.”

Your eyes flicker to the window, the sky darkening with each moment, you have little time to waste but find it difficult to step off from the wall you leant against, wanting to hear what was being said while Aegon was absent. From the stories he has vaguely revealed, you piece together that this can’t be very pleasant —.

”—Devil work is at play, are we to ignore what Ser Criston reported back… The hag of the swamp may be gone but she has left a younger in her stead. A younger, might I add that Aegon has been seen visiting every month.” A stern female voice snapped imperiously, ah, you stop to focus, Alicent.

“There is no charge, no proof, we can’t simply abscond the witchling or trial her.” The priest grew weary by the sounds of things. This discussion had been happening for a long while before you happened to stop by and eavesdrop. “Though… we may still be able to help Aegon. A procedure a higher devout can perform, through the word of God, to banish any and all devils that possess a human.”

The silence was thick, almost as though there was a fourth person speaking amongst the three until it was broken, “send one of the stablemen to Durrenden, I want Aegon back here tonight for the procedure. I also want Ser Criston sent to the swamp bitches abode and have her apprehended for maleficium, devil craft, seduction and heresy. She has poisoned my son long enough, I want her burnt in the square.”

A threat against your very being didn’t seem to spark fear within you like it should have, it had quite distinctly the opposite effect, a giddy smirk tugged at the corners of your lips. You’d never been a part of a witch hunt before and it sounded rather exhilarating.

“She is right, I will not have another of my children marr this house with shame. Do what must be done,” Viserys weary and tired seemed to want to put an end to the conversation - or arguing - you weren’t entirely sure.

You make a face, once again feeling that you should be fearful or somewhat scared but instead find the ordeal quite amusing. Mayhaps the confidence in Lady Alicents imperious tone about your persecution was what tickled at your humour. Auntie was sure to have cackled if she were present, but the nagging feeling stirring within drew your smirk down to a thin line.

Aegon could not be taken tonight, that was of utmost importance — The nebulous ‘procedure’ the holy man spoke of did well to cause unease within, if anything about this religion was clear is that many of this belief did horrendous acts to justify and uplift their false idol.

Durrenden. The small village southwest of Oldtown, bordering the edge of the swamp was all you seemed to know of it, not being the one you occasionally pass through for fresh produce. But Alicent’s comment on sending their Holy Knight there gave answer to why the Fortress was so barren of life, as to why Aegon and the swordsmen were down there, remained a mystery.

With little time left you close into yourself, disappearing within a blink and reappearing on the outer edges of the swamp. Durrenden a short walk, silhouetted by the sun that had begun descending behind it, haloing golden edges around the small huts and buildings. Temporary battlements had been set up, tents scattered close to the town's walls and many swordsmen wearing the insignia of their God.

One might think they were ready for war, though you had no time to ask or answer hypotheticals inside your head. Time was running low if the colour of the sky was any indication. Hurried in stride and purposeful with your steps, Durrenden surrounded you quickly with its townsfolk sneering and occasional swordsman wearily casting gazes. None of the strangers blurring past you had violet eyes nor silver locks of hair which caused unsteady panic to brew within, there was a small voice in the back of your mind that cast doubt. What if he was already at the hut? Perhaps he snuck away without anyone seeing him, but the surplus of men and eyes around indicated that the task may be unfeasible.

The steady stream of armored men flowing to and from the village tavern served as a good starting point, remembering Aegon mentioning that he’d sneak into the Howling Keep (a poor mans tavern) in Oldtown. The naming convention humoured you greatly at the time, though Aegon grimaced and looked at you with a deadpan expression.

You push open the Oak doors, not caring for the two patrons you cut off by doing so causing a slight commotion. Everyone within turned their heads and fell silent once their gaze fell on you — from head to toe not a single thing about the attire you adorned or markings drawn into your skin indicated you were a commoner or local.

Scanning the room, your eyes fell on a pair of violet ones, familiar but not Aegon’s. They were deeper violet, one slightly off colour and colder, narrowed down to a cautious glare. Aemond. Dressed in dark leathers, chain mail glinting from beneath the studded black vest with a different insignia. Not a symbol of their God but a house crest. A Three-Headed Dragon.

“Where is he?” You demand, disregarding all others in the tavern, speaking to him as though you were the only two in the room.

He is still for a moment, though you aren’t able to decipher if he’s wanting to argue back or is merely conflicted in aiding you. As far as you were aware he had at least a vague idea of what occurred on full moons, and must know that was the reason for your intrusion. Yet, he hesitates.

Two swordsmen step forward before he holds a hand out and dismisses them, there is a soft grumble in displeasure while he strides toward you. He brushes past you, heading back out the way you came, and you follow quietly behind him. Many of the locals and swordsmen watch with attentiveness, judgment passing through their cold glares as if you were on your way to lead Aemond to eternal damnation right before their eyes.

Neither of you exchange discussion as there was little need to do so, yet the question of why Lord Targaryen’s men were out in Durrenden as though an invasion was due hung at the tip of your tongue. It never passes your lips, even as he leads you to one of the larger tents, the same house crest embroidered on the tent door.

Inside, unlike sleeping quarters like you anticipated to see, there sat a large cage manned by a single guard. Within it, Aegon sat slumped against one of the bars in some type of drunken stupor though his pained groans carried to your ears instantly. The cage is far too large for something like a lycanthrope, your first thought followed by, they’re going after Ornmir.

Your question was finally answered but there was much too little time to reprimand Aemond and the men of the battalion. In a quick sweep, you fade from beside the younger brother and appear beside Aegon who hadn’t quite processed your arrival just yet. “Apologies, we must make haste — I don’t have time to explain,” your voice is softer than you expected, voice cradling him as though he were an injured animal.

He looks up at you, eyes half lidded but attentive when they search your face. Sweat beaded down his forehead, down past his flushed cheeks, “bumble,” he whispers in a drunken slur and it takes you a moment to realize he is addressing you.

“I’ve nothing to give for the pain,” you fumble with the pouch on your belt before gently placing a hand at the base of his neck to cradle his head and the other to grip his arm tightly. You cast a pointed look at Aemond before your surroundings fade away, no longer encaged and inside a tent but now surrounded by dozens of trees on an old faded trail. The furthest south of the Swamp, knowing it was too risky to return to the hut.

It seemed as though you had mere minutes to spare, the sky no longer streaked with orange and yellow, completely covered in darkness with the moon rising over the horizon.

***

Faint mildew and damp earth fill your nostrils as you awaken, there is initial panic when your eyes fly open to surroundings that weren’t the decrepit interior of your abode. Condensation dripping from rocky walls subtly glimmering in the flickering light of a waning lantern, you are reminded where you have taken temporary refuge.

Everywhere ached, the muscles around your shoulders and neck yearned for some tension release while your legs felt stiff from a night of keeping the wolf entertained. Surprisingly, Aegon being inebriated hadn’t done much to effect the transformation or behaviour from your observations aside from a comment he made after dawn broke and he laid on the swamp ground, chest rising and falling after shakily becoming normal again.

“My fucking head,” was all he groaned before promptly passing out. A massacred hand resting atop his forehead as though that would do much to alleviate his pain.

Now, his breaths were simple and consistent like any other noise within the deep cave you chose as sanctuary. His head rested on your lap for lack of a proper bed for him to rest and gain some strength back — at least that's what you tell yourself. Nevermind you are aimlessly combing fingers through his hair, detangling the ends riddled with sweat and blood.

It must have been mid afternoon when he stirred awake, eyes fluttering open to take in the surroundings. You had half expected him to sleep for the entire day and well into the night, looking down on him you offer a smile in the dimly lit cave. A flourish of one hand and murmur an incantation, materialising four orbs of light that float nearby to brighten the area.

“You came for me,” He croaks, voice crackly no doubt from straining it the night prior, turning his head in your lap to look up at you. The first thing he says is not to question where you had taken him, he trusted you without question and this statement wasn’t lost on you whatsoever.

There was something very innocent in the moment and perhaps it had been the fact you were still raking fingers through his hair despite it had long been detangled.

Casting your gaze downward it was becoming increasingly more difficult to ignore the feelings that stirred within, no matter how hard you tried to reason that it was something else entirely. You cared for him. The revelation should not be one that is shocking, half a year in tending to him would indicate this truth and yet it still shook you to the core.

Loneliness was a bitter thing, you had plenty of loneliness over the course of your life that it seem only fair to rid yourself of it.

”An unfortunate twist in fate has me caring for you, it seems,” you admit dryly, feeling lighter and less wound up upon saying the words aloud. “A most ill-fated outcome considering it is I who put this burden on you.” A sardonic smile mocking your own misfortune, of course it would be fated that the cure to loneliness would be in the form of a man you had inflicted a most painful blight upon.

He is silent for a moment, so still that you'd have thought he fell back asleep if it weren’t for his attentive violet eyes looking up at you, he finally says, “I tried to leave them at the road before Durrenden — They wouldn’t let me.”

”So they encaged you?”

“No,” he smiles meekly, “that was after I stole two carafes of wine from our reserve.” A flash of something must have passed through him causing the corners of his lips drop, eyes suddenly dimming with resignation as he looks away for the first time, “I thought if I was too drunk to feel anything I wouldn’t be in pain.”

Stupid. You admonish silently, but your chest tugs at the words of a man who simply wishes for the pain to fade. It was the first time you considered that he isn’t just talking about the pain of transformation. Without jostling him around too much, you reach into the small pouch off to the side and pull out a small phial, the best you can offer considering you weren’t in the hut.

After passing it over to him wordlessly you sigh and look around the cave, “your family’s Knight was sent to fetch you, the holy man mentioned to your mother a procedure to ‘purge you of sin’.”

”You went to the castle?” He asks, sitting up as though he were startled by the notion. Wincing at the sudden movement, he steadied himself on the wall beside you. At some point between your fated first meeting and now, he stopped complaining or questioning whenever you handed him things to consume. Since there was little resistance when you handed him a small bottle of sanguine liquid.

”To look for you,” a simple answer and yet it still caused your stomach to flutter, “your mother seems to be of the belief I have corrupted you with devil work… I wasn’t aware she was so… pious.” As amusing as a witch hunt sounded to you yesterday, it felt more cumbersome in reality and you had only really been forced into hiding for a mere day.

Your words struck him as amusing, a dry laugh falling from his cracked lips and you curse yourself for not thinking to get water amongst the hubbub of yesterday. “In the bigger picture, you have done little to push me into the devil’s clutches, my lady.” He addresses you, as if a highborn and not a witch of the woods or at the very least; a Commoner. The phrase catches you by surprise, so much so there is a physical reaction akin to a slight recoil. It sounded foreign to hear it, but you didn’t hate it.

A connection in your head seems to click, instantaneously dismissing what you were going to say about what he called you and in comes a flood of thoughts so incredibly obvious that you are almost ashamed to say anything about it now. But, your mouth moves much quicker than your mind and a sharp, “oh gods,” falls from your lips.

He stares at you, looking embarrassed as if you were lambasting his choice of words but that couldn’t be further from the truth. “I might — well it is possible to relieve you of this curse but the chances may not be in our favour.” It wasn’t some magical cure out of nowhere and it wasn’t without risks involved but if done right it could be done.

There’s confusion etched into his facial features, for that you couldn’t blame him, “but this is a blood curse —,”

”It is not a cure, per se…” Trying to find the words seemed difficult, especially ones that wouldn’t be insensitive, “if you recall this ailment was imparted onto Aemond and I moved the curse. Blood curses attach themselves to the essence of a person which is why they can be moved to family members — which is why I could rid him of it.”

”Be that I dislike my brother, I do not wish for him to suffer monthly —“

“Sibling blood is closer entwined than other familial relatives but much like I restored Aemonds eye, I could attempt to move the curse to someone else… someone who is already on the cusp of death.” It would be all too easy to say his name aloud, but there was a part within your aware conscience that felt it rather evil for suggesting second hand patricide.

Though you needn’t say his name, Aegon understood wholeheartedly, “Viserys.” Not ‘Father’, not a hint of endearing or love in his tone. The relationship between father and son had long severed before you had waylaid the noble family with magic interference all those months ago. It may have not been your intent to send the Lord to an early grave, the fates seemed to have planned for it anyway.

You just hoped they planned for him to suffer one last time.

There was an already inherent distaste for the man, one that was imparted to you from Aunties bias but it only increased tenfold when Aegon would regale you with stories of how absent and horrible of a man Viserys seemed despite the public opinion being otherwise. How does a man have five children and only care for one? Even for that one child, the care presents as thinly veiled kindness at best from what you’ve heard.

He mulls over the idea, you can sense his hesitancy to answer and it is something you don’t hold over him considering what you are suggesting could be coercive murder in the eyes of the church.

“Forgive me, if I spoke out of turn.” You say softly, smiling at him as if silently understanding the conflict within him. If anyone had been present to hear such blasphemy you were most definitely not avoiding the accusations of being a harbinger of chaos and devil whisperer.

”No,” he shook his head, there was uncertainty in whether he was denying your suggestion or if he disagreed that you’d stepped over a line. Even you were self aware enough of how bad it sounded, but over the course of half a year the two of you seemed to slowly understand the inner machinations of one another enough to know when something was laced with malicious intent or not. While he understood to a degree your distrust and ire toward the head of his family, he has never had reason to believe that you worked with an ulterior motive. Initially, perhaps, but now? No.

”I want to say yes,” he begins, a pained look within his eyes laden with guilt, “but what option remains for me? I am his eldest son. He is destined to pass, sure. But my path lay already ahead of me. To become Lord of the city regardless of if I’m afflicted by a curse or not. This —,” he gestures to himself, riddled with grime and filth, “— this is physical pain but no matter my options I will suffer.”

The strain in his voice gave quite a clear indication that he was hesitant to be so vulnerable, not for a lack of trust, it seemed as though the cause for his trepidation simply grew from a lack of someone around to listen to his complaints. You tactfully reach over and clasp his hand. Entwined it was easy to see how the dirt and muck complimented one another on each hand with wayward splatters and streaks like paintings on parchment.

He seldom spoke of duty, opting to spit in the face of it whenever the topic broached but you knew what lay ahead of him when the inevitable arrival of death comes to consume Viserys. A strange custom, you noted. Many families had long abandoned succession through eldest offspring, a handful of Lords (Targaryens included) seemed to keep the tradition, whether it be in honour of tradition or it aligned religiously though you were unsure of.

To be a Lord and be ailed with something as unforgiving as Lycanthropy would become harder to hide, a bigger burden, one that would turn the devout folk on him in an instant. Public opinion on the man beside you, already sat lower than the other siblings, in a cruel string of fate it almost feels as though he were destined to fail.

“But you are second to oldest, what of your sister?” You ask.

“Rhaenyra?” His voice was laced with surprise, he spoke very little of her and though you never prodded further there was uncertainty of if he held disdain toward her and that had been the reason for his little mention of her or if there was something else. “He may love her more than the rest of us but she will never inherit after what she’s done to the family.”

I will not have another of my children marr this family with shame. Viserys had said this the previous day, now with context it seemed to make sense. You were in no position to question further and you didn’t, though little pieces of information you’d gathered over the months fell into place, albeit disjointed but nonetheless sensical.

The oldest of the siblings, born to a different mother was free-spirited and rather outspoken, if the rumours of the common folk were to be believed then she ran off with Viserys’ brother and her Uncle for love. You’d initially taken the slighted gossip with a pinch of salt but could think of no other reason Rhaenyra could bring shame to such a proud and religious family.

You spare Aegon a look, not pitiful or full of sorrow and despair but one that was at least hopeful.

“If you ever wish to disappear, far from here, say the words and I will make it happen.” A grim solution, but it was the only thing you could think about that would keep Aegon’s conscience intact with the least amount of bodies in the process.

“Threat of death? After all this time? Here I was beginning to think you tolerated me,” he found it within himself to jest, a smile on his lips that etched into your mind long after he turned away sullenly, “I couldn’t… I can’t leave them.”

The unspoken burden of the oldest remaining sibling weighs heavy on him, you have come to learn many things about Helaena and Daeron in passing comments or quips. Aemond fiercely sits in the peripheral of your thoughts often when you think of Aegon and wonder how different things may have been if you didn’t help Aemond.

“I tolerate you no more than a crocodile tolerates a drowning wildebeest in his river,” you jest, suppressing a coy smile. You squeeze his hand reassuringly and as if responding to a question, he squeezed yours in return. “Threat of death is not so awful, death is not the end we believe it to be,” you muse, eyes cast down the expansive cave mouth, a very characteristically cryptic moment from you.

Down the cave, a seemingly tiny dot in the distance was your only indicator of an exit, a light that specified the sun's bright rays was what awaited you when it was time to leave the soggy cavernous hole.

Deep rumbling shudders through the cave, a great force rippling through the ground no different to how an earthquake unmistakingly rips through the earth indiscriminately. Though it is a force of nature, it is not what one might think as queit relief washes over you. Aegon looks to you in search of an answer or reaction, you remain unbothered and look to him with a sincere smile, “you’re a good man, Aegon… I only wish for others to see you the way I do.”

He is stunned a moment, possibly wondering where that came from as you were thinking the same but he looks past you and back nervously, “this isn’t the moment where you leave me at the mercy of whatever thing has crawled in here?”

You laugh and shake your head, a sound so foreign to even you it was a wonder how you managed to share a space with Auntie who was decidedly humourless for so many years. “This cave may be Ornmir’s own domicile but she won’t hurt you, and I won’t leave you here either… I believe it isn’t safe to return to the hut. Your holy knight might still be on the lookout for you and I’d prefer you rest before I release you back to those den of wild dragons.”

What you wanted to say more than anything was, stay, stay here with me and never go back to the wretches who seek to ruin you. But it was hard, hard to even admit that first and foremost and hard to be so vulnerable with someone. Auntie kept you at arms length always as if preparing you for the inevitable time she left you, feeling attached to someone always seemed forbidden.

But with Aegon, it was easy. So easy it was terrifying.

“What are you thinking about?” He asks quietly, when you turn to him his eyes are already trained on your face as if trying to pry into your very thoughts.

The words can’t form in your mouth, the admission that perhaps loneliness wasn’t what fulfilled you any longer refused to leave your mouth so you search for another answer quickly. Despite not finding a way to express your inner thoughts you find your body leaning in toward him, hands cupping the sides of his face and pressing your forehead against his in a manner that was more intimate than expected.

Noses brushing against one another, your eyes look down at the curve of his cheeks from the smoothest point to where his stubble had started to break through.

“Let me make this right,” you promise, thumbs brushing softly over his cheeks, “the least I can do is try and take away the curse I put on you. I cannot cure the ailments of the future but I can undo my own wretched infliction.”

“Okay,” he breathes out in a voice so small you wouldn’t hear it if it weren’t for his breath lightly fanning your face. “What about you?” He asks almost painfully, and you selfishly think it’s at the thought of the monthly visits coming to a stop.

”You are no stranger, I wish for you to visit on your own terms, not because you’re forced too.”

“Okay.” He says again, hands coming up to sit atop yours over his face.

The two of you remain there for an uncertain amount of time, you don’t fully recall disengaging from the embrace but you do. Quietly going over the plan for the evening, you stated many times throughout that the likelihood of success was slim and the results wouldn’t bear its fruit until a month away, but you’d be damned if you were going to at least try.

Aegon assured you he was well rested and in fact argued he should accompany you. Him joining was not the problem, it was the prospect of his mother or holy knight finding him before you could finish the ritual. There was little else you could do to convince him otherwise as he held onto your hand firmly when you whisk the both of you away through darkness and into the Fortress.

Night had fallen a couple of hours prior, the sun no longer commanding the skies but the moon. Her rays of silver cascaded through stained glass and created prismatic shapes of colour on the carpet below your feet as they quietly roamed the West Wing corridor together. Aegon still held onto your hand.

Much like it had been the day prior, it was desolate bar from the occasional servant who eyed the two of you but made no comment or haste to alert anyone.

“Aransmore wrote to us about their cattle getting eaten and the farmers being terrorized by a great beast in the swamp… that is why we set for Durrenden.” Aegon whispered cautiously, you had guessed he felt as though he owed you some degree of explanation for why the castle was bare and Durrenden had so many swordsmen.

”Yes.. Ornmir… She’s — She’s still angry and I am unsure what the cause is. Her shrine has been repaired yet there is an ire that remains present. I shall visit her again in time…once this has been settled,” you nod at him, quietly responding.

Once outside a large set of oak doors, gilded gold edging and embellishments, there was little mystery left at who lay in the chambers beyond them. Neither of you make the first move, both merely staring at the door as if it would open on its own accord.

You look over at Aegon, “we need not go through this, if you wish it so.”

“No,” he says softly, looking down, then back up to the door, “no I want to.” His voice is hardened, more determined and you wish more than anything you could read his thoughts but you turn away and nod.

He surprises you more, taking the first step forward but you are the one who opens the door. Both of you have an unspoken kinship bred from months of understanding each other slowly.

The room is dark, save for the silver light of the moon cascading through the open window. Despite the cool breeze flowing through, the room stank distinctly of mold and must, as though the windows had been sealed shut for years. Your eyes settle on Viserys, the first time you’ve seen him since ailing him with his son's mangled eye. He was less man than he was rot, you decided, the cause of the smell being him.

Half of his face blackened with necrosis, the infection taking a rather nasty turn. The leeches on his face had no more incentive to keep eating away at the flesh, not when it had shrunk down to the bone and exposed part of his skull. It was grotesque, really, but your face remained unmoved as you stood beside the bed and looked down at him. Only then did your face twist into something unpleasant.

You turn to Aegon, face pulled to a frown that half indicated disgust, nostrils slightly flared and eyebrows crossed together into a sullen expression. “He’s dead.” You say, defeatedly.

You were too late.

Tag List (lemme know if you wanna be tagged :D)

@karlachs-soldier @serving-targaryen-realness @deltamoon666 @bogbutteronmycroissant @heavenly1927

#imagines #fanfiction #aegon targaryen #house of the dragon #aegon ii targaryen x female reader #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii x you #aegon ii x reader

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allthelittlecreepycrawlies · 1 year ago

Text

With A Flap Of Wings, Part One

(okay. here we go.)

Warnings for the overall story: Implications/mentions of suicide, miscarriage.

Tags: Nie-family centric, alternate timeline, time travel fix-it, ghosts, suicide, everybody lives (I know how weird it sounds having both, you gotta trust me here), no-war timeline

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

Nie Huaisang sits and stares at the closed stone doors of the tomb that contains the bodies of nearly all of his family, or at least their sabers.

All except for his brother, who remains trapped in that heavens-damned coffin.

The pile of aged papers in his lap rustle in the chilly breeze, but he barely pays attention, even though the pages are the answer to one of the many questions that had been plaguing him since the first time the ritual to purify his brother’s soul had failed.

Since the first time the time-jumping ritual had failed.

He can't remember how many times he's cast it, using his own blood to dive into the past, only to inevitably be flung back here no matter how deep he went or which events he changed.

But now he understands.

All of the monsters and ugly twists of fate that had targeted his family... they had only been symptoms of the disease.

He is the cause.

He, the ill-omened child who killed his own mother with his first breath, is the one who brought calamity on all who ever knew him, death and misfortune dogging his steps before he could even walk.

This, all of this, is because of him.

But he can still fix it.

Maybe none of the other attempts had worked, but that was because he hadn't known where to weed out the rot threatening the garden.

Now, he does.

Closing his eyes and bracing himself, he draws the knife from his belt for what he desperately hopes will be the last time.

–-

Nie Leiyun is six months into her pregnancy –one month away from what would have been her death from hemorrhaging during an arduous childbirth– when she staggers and has to catch herself on a table, suddenly overcome by a horrible throbbing pain in her guts.

But it's when the pain stops, everything inside her going unnaturally still, that she actually starts to panic and sinks down to sit on the floor, trying to call out and unable to make her voice work.

A maid rushing to help her back to her feet is the first to see the blood starting to stain her robes and the stone beneath her, and she’s the one who screams for the healers when Nie Leiyun can’t.

Despite all their efforts, the healers are only able to save one life.

Once, in a timeline that has just been erased, it was the child.

This time, it's the mother.

---

The grief that falls over the sect is heavy.

No one seems to be more crushed by it than Nie Mingjue.

All of six years old, he had been adamant that he didn't want a sibling and had complained to anyone who would listen. Babies were stinky and dumb and boring and either cried all the time or made messes everywhere. Gross.

And now the baby is dead, dead and gone, and no amount of hugs or kind words can convince the boy that he hadn't somehow wished his little brother away.

Nie Haoran and Nie Linsong are gentle with their wife and son's grief -it had been Linsong's own struggles with having another child that had prompted the second wedding, after all- and it's Linsong who makes a fateful suggestion one night as the two of them are sitting by the fire one evening, Linsong spoiling her falcon with some extra preening assistance and Leiyun mending some clothing.

"The only reason you put your search on hold was because the pregnancy was becoming too harsh on your health, wasn't it? Why not pick it back up again now once you've recovered a little?"

---

Three and a half months later, Nie Leiyun hears rumors of a high-ranking courtesan in Yunping who has been making waves among the cultivation gentry. This by itself is nothing new, she has investigated over a dozen other women who ended up in the brothels like she originally had and have since risen to some level of fame, some even attracting the attention of sect leaders like she had.

But none of those women had been outright carrying her long-abandoned surname of Meng.

She does her best not to get her hopes up, but luck is on her side for a change, and three days after she first hears the whispers, Nie Leiyun -Meng Xiu- clutches her sister Meng Shi in a tearful embrace.

She doesn't know how to feel about the tiny boy that her sister introduces her to. He is not yet two years old, so close to her Sang-er.

They could have grown up cousins.

Friends.

But now-

She wipes her eyes and puts aside her selfishness. Yao-er can still be a cousin and friend to Mingjue, and he and her sister both deserve far better than this place.

She takes them home.

#mdzs #nie sect #nie family #papa nie #mingjue's mother #huaisang's mother #meng shi #jin guangyao #nie huaisang #fanfic #death tw #with a flap of wings

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murder-cookie-dust393 · 1 year ago

Note

Seal anon here and wow that valentines day ask was fun to read! It was so much fun! Also I just got an idea...sorta inspired by that.

Imagine if mc, who doesn't wanna be alone on valentines day and wants to show their friends love (like how people say 'i love my friends' and/or 'i love my bestie!') and appreciation for their friendships (bonus idea if you want, mc enjoys the single life), they throw a valentines day single friends party! That way all the single cookies and mc get to have fun playing party games, enjoying the freedom of being single together and basically all hang out as friends! Basically, show that valentines day is for all types of love...love between lovers, love between friends...and mc just assumes this will just be a fun party with fun party games and food and drinks and cake and thinks all will be a fun time....

Uuuuuuntil cookies start taking advantage of the party, seeing it as a golden opportunity to spend time with mc and try to woo them!

Or if you want a more interesting plot...say one of the mini games is well...someone dresses up as cupid and everyone has to run away and hide from the arrows and if you get shot by cupids arrow, you lose! Lmao! Wonder how the cookies would act to a game like that!

YOU KNOW WHAT?

THE BAR COOKIES.

Tw: Herb drugs his bros, not really Yan I admit.

Imagine Herb, Sparkling, Mint Choco, and Vampire overriding their friendship for quite literally a contest in love.

Herb probably tries to be all “good guy” and gives MC of course, a flower as a gift. He’s probably calling their little party decorations cool too.

Don’t mind the sleeping herbs he puts in the others’ drinks. (Pun not intended). He just wants to spend extra time with you!

I’m sorry, like genuinely sorry because Sparkling was my first healer in kingdom but- HE SCREAMS PICK ME GUY TO ME. I don’t know why, but he does.

He probably is all like “MC, I don’t know why, but I’m such a good guy, and yet no one wants to date me! I’m so sick of it! Because I know I would be a good boyfriend!”

Vampire…Honestly I feel he is gonna be so wasted he just randomly starts flirting with MC. Like, heavy flirting. It’s so bad that even the other members are concerned.

Unknown to the rest of the guests, Vampire knows his flirting would be justified as him being simply drunk, when really, he’s been thinking of those lines since he’s gotten an invitation.

AND OF COURSE MY ULTIMATE KIN- He’ll just randomly play an instrument (piano or violin) while he’s bored. Especially if everybody else is drunk. At first, he’s just playing while staring at his playing but soon he’s trying to slowly get your attention.

He probably rehearsed for the last week on this one piece he’s trying to serenade you with. He likes to ask what you notice about the piece, it lets him know how well you were paying attention.

These guys would also have a fight in the backyard with nothing but their alcohol tolerance and “hoes before bros” ideology.

(You know that cringe stereotype where someone plays outside the window of someone’s bedroom? Mint Choco probably does that.

…Lowkey think it would work. Except if I did it I would get called by the police-)

- Celina

#cookie run #yandere cookie run #cookie run kingdom #cookie run x reader #crk #yandere #yandere x reader #crk x reader #blurbs #crob #yandere crob #crob x reader #cookie run ovenbreak

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fictionfixations · 6 months ago

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i was reminded of the existence of teams that have one main damage dealer and then the rest supports

and ive always wondered what wouldve happened if the main damage dealer died so i set up a situation where thatd happen and then set it on auto

listen dont pay tingyun any attention i just put her there because i needed a random character there whos dead and also because lore accurate

but like. listen. they're not. actually doing that bad??? for just using basic attack. and to be fair robin scales off of like attack (idk what sparkle scales off of)

so i mean. huh. honestly an all supports team is probably very possible if very overkill (like for example both shielders and healers on the same team, with the exception of if youre still like building them so they're not that great yet)

#honkai star rail #star rail #hsr #thoughts

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l0serxen · 3 months ago

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NEW WUTHERING WAVES 1.3 UPDATE DRABBLES AND THOUGHTS FOR THE STORY QUEST!

!THERE WILL BE NO MAJOR SPOILERS DOWN BELOW (EXCEPT THE BEGINNING PARTS) FOR THE PEOPLE STILL PLAYING THROUGH!

!THIS IS MY OPINION, YOU ARE FREE TO DISAGREE WITH WHAT I BELIEVE!

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🪻|| shorekeeper... she's so stunning... i genuinely want to see cosplays of her because i feel like they would be as stunning as the kokomi, columbina, aponia, etc. cosplayers...

🫧 || AALTO?? he's going to become Mr. Tartaglia Worldwide /j. on a more serious note more aalto content! yay! <3 aalto (and yuanwu) is so underrated compared to the rest of the male characters we have right now,

☁️ || the visuals, the voice acting, the black shore's world design... IT'S ALL SO STUNNING!! definitely worth the wait in my opinion!

🔮 || i want to pull for shorekeeper but her play style is DEFINITELY not for me, she may be a healer but i cannot work her. i WILL be pulling for jiyan (i couldn't get him on his first banner...) and youhu though!

💿 || i genuinely find it so humorous that aalto planted a tree and labeled it 'money tree' it just seems like such an aalto thing to do... aalto in general is just a funny guy that caught my eye the second he was introduced.

🎵 || the fighting and new mechanics were also so cool! i loved the robots and how we had to clean(?) the destroyed data, this might be one of my favorite story quests, and no, i'm not being biased because aalto, camellya, and encore are part of it.

👾 || the lore behind rover is honestly so interesting, the story's carefully well planned and written, we can see why wuthering waves took kuro games around two years. i find the combat and story much more planned and we can see how they put effort into it, like pgr (punishing grey raven)

ENDING NOTE; the 1.3 update with the new story quest was entertaining and i was surprised with the visuals and cutscenes! this game is one of the games i actually pay attention to for the plot because it's impossible not to skip, the character designs are well planned and the play styles suit the characters as well! i will be pulling for jiyan and youhu after shorekeeper's banner and i can't wait for camellya to be released as well! i'll be pulling for her too!

#wutheringwaves #wutheringwaves 1.3 thoughts #WuWa thoughts #kurogames

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raveneira · 3 months ago

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Remember when people where hyping up code to be this unstoppable guy to turn up to be ultimate fraud

Yeah, I had high hopes for Code, so much potential and his introduction was a MASSIVE hype for his character

Like look at this

This is how we get officially introduced to him, and both Kawaki and Amado emphasize what a huge threat he is and how hes different from the rest.

Code is literally Sakura on steroids, this is literally the Sakura vs Sasori fight setting up massive hype for where her character was gonna go from there and just doing jack shit with that potential, then waiting till the FINAL arc of the series near the very end to make her awaken her biggest achievement, only to immediately be overshadowed by Naruto gaining a even greater healing achievement.

Code is that level of wasted potential but a million times worse because hes supposed to be a main villain, Sakura had an excuse as a healer to stand back, Code is a main VILLAIN and is one of the main THREATS to the main cast and we're introduced to him literally murdering ppl with ease.

So Code doesnt get to just 'step back' because thats not what he was setup to be, he was setup to inherit Isshiki and the Otsutsuki will and become a GOD who would carry out their will [the whole divine tree spiel]

I want you to REALLY pay attention to what Isshiki said here because this is a huge reason why Code had massive expectations on him.

That is an INSANE amount of expectations placed on this character, Codes gonna somehow create a divine tree? eat the fruit and become a new Otsutsuki? eventually become a god? just how strong is he with his limiters off if Kawaki and Amado are already scared of him with them on? the expectations were endless

But then...the worst possible thing happened for not just Codes character and relevance as a main villain, but also the manga as a whole.

This bitches introduction right after Codes....Code didnt get more than a few pages killing ppl and being hyped but by Amado and Kawaki before he was immediately overshadowed by Ada, we didnt know that would be the case at the time, but this one page is single handedly the moment Codes entire character was doomed for failure.

Instead of the unstoppable menace avenging his god Isshiki and carrying out the Otsutsuki will for him as his final wish like we were promised, instead we got this goofy ass team rocket trio and Code is quickly replaced once hes outlived his use to the eye poison siblings.

Little did we know how right Bug was about him being all bark, because in the timeskip he's beaten effortlessly even by Boruto who he, according to the power scaling set by Ikemoto with these statements, should be stronger than an imperfect vessel Jigen, who literally beat full power Naruto and Sasuke 2v1, so either Boruto is more powerful than Jigen, Naruto, and Sasuke combined, or unlimited Code is just a got danm joke that was never a real threat to begin with.

As Bug said, Code was all bark, he took down some fodder, got hyped up just to live up to NONE of it and not only got replaced by Ada and Daemon, but by his own danm army he built for 3 years straight, all of which happened due to HIS carelessness.

His rivalry with Kawaki was also a huge point of intrigue, ppl wanted to know more about their relationship in Kara, how their current conflict with eachother would play out [Code avenging his god, Kawaki protecting Naruto] and there was just a whole lot of intrigue and potential that could've been played with there but again, absolutely nothing was done with it, its just a one sided beef that Kawaki could care less about, except he did care about it because he was havin PTSD flashbacks about him in the lab and went to confront Code personally to appease him by sacrificing himself since he knows how much he hates him

but again just another interesting dynamic just forgotten by this incompetent writer that seems to forget one of the main things that made Naruto so good and memorable [the villains and character dynamics]

Code is an even bigger example than Sakura of wasted potential, a guy who had literally EVERYTHING to be one hell of a main villain, an absolute menace our main cast would really have to struggle with, he could've potentially became Madara levels of unstoppable and Ikemoto just threw all that shit out the window, ironic because Kishimoto wanted to kill off Code but Ikemoto spared him just to do jack shit with him, he reduced him to a comedy villain on a similar level to Drakken from Kim Possible.

Thats the one death I was glad Ikemoto didnt follow through on, because Code had so much potential that I would've hated to see wasted, but if Kishimoto read the drafts of what Ikemoto had planned for him, maybe Kishimoto was tryna spare him the embarrassment and the waste of time his character would end up being as we see now.

#boruto manga #manga spoilers #rave responds

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soranihimawari · 1 year ago

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Chances are Earned

Word count: tba

Pairing: Itadori Yuuji x reader//strangers -> potential lovers

Rating: t/m (teen+/mature for violence maybe & old world godlike powers)

when you lock eyes, this is one of the first scenes i think of...

“What do you mean I can’t take the exam?! You know I was on special leave!”

“And I’m telling you, Mx. YN, Yaga did not inform me, so you aren’t able to retake it.”

At seventeen years of age, you were having a discussion with your teacher who, mind you, had been giving these make up exams for students where missions for exorcising curses had been granted. Just because you aren't on the front lines doesn't mean you're not truly fighting either. If anything, your work behind the scenes along with the other medics in the sorcerer community has anything to add, you were always talented. Ever since the night your older cousin told you what she and her friends fought over summer vacation that one time you were nine years old. That aside, you chose to follow her in her footsteps in order to do your part to ensure the safety of humans everywhere.

You sigh, thanking them for their time, and retreat back to the school medic wing. Your cousin, Shoko, is still filing something or other for another student and you explain your situation. She isn’t really paying any attention, you’re gone to fetch some waters. In the midst of all this, you peak into an empty classroom. It’s there you meet him. Him is one of your most respected and revered peers since he did eat an ancient relic: Sukuna’s finger.

You’re very nonchalant when you pass each other again during mid morning break. He talks playfully about his plans for the weekend with his classmates. Unlike me, I’d be stuck editing and re-reading some case files, deciphering if the victims were caused by curses or humans.

•Itadori, Yuuji: filed special case.•

You recall seeing the file Shoko babes you from reading from, however Gojo-sensei noticed in his passing of the exchange and conveniently emailed you a copy. Every report involving Yuuji came to you from Gojo all except the one he’s about to go on.

[[Four days later]]

“Medic! Shoko?!” Gojo is holding a slumped over Yuuji.

“She’s gone ho—! What happened sensei?!” You inquire.

Yuuji is barely breathing when he is laid down on the examination table.

“Call Shoko, get checked out by her. I’ll take care of him,” you say.

Gojo id about to protest, but he sees the cursed energy float around you like Hermès’ serpent staff. There is something odd about healers in the sorcerer communities. Those tied to the ancients seem to have stronger concentrations of one of their talents. For example: in voodoo there is legends of the Shadow Man; in Greek mythology, there is Hermes god of speed and healing; but there is one more old world god from a pantheon outside of your realm of knowledge. Gojo smirks when your fingers have that kind of kahjal black: Ra the Sun. You harness what you can to save the boy on the table and he breathes easier with you.

“Nnnhnn,” Yuuji groans as he starts coming to.

You sit on a chair next to him and take notes. It’s been a while since you’ve healed someone who isn’t yourself and you’re almost too scared to poke his cheek which now is gaining more color. Yuuji sits up suddenly and looks around the morgue before settling on you. He studies you, curious and ask, and for the first time in his mind, Sukuna is quiet.

“Hi,” your day as the light flickers above your head.

“You made him shut up,” Yuuji is cautious.

You hold up your hands in protest. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to…? You were unconscious and it seemed like you were in pain a-and I’m really sorry.”

Standing to walk away to grab your things, partly embarrassed and partly because he seemed either happy or relieved (you couldn’t tell which). Itadori Yuuji, when he can, he learned tommaintain a sense of respect and accountability for those who heal people. He has seen so much death that perhaps now is a good time to actually… live; so he stops you with just one question:

“What’s your name?”

“…” you mumble it under your breath before his boyish smile encourages you to repeat it.

“Thank you,” is what he responds with.

It seems today was a good day for luck to have shown you favor.

Ever since that day, whenever there’s a mission to complete, Yuuji asks your cousin if you’re free the night or the whole day before. You’re not really dating nor are you letting your imagination get ahead of yourselves, but you do enjoy the company of his classmates as well. Nobara thinks you’re brilliant and Megumi recognizes the talent you have. You’ve spent your lunches with them in either a classroom or they stop by the medic wing. One time, the three of them walked in as you were studying the flowers died and nearly dead on the table and you tried your best to have them become lively again—the vibrancy holds true for a few seconds and the flowers wilt and turn to ash.

Sighing, you mumble, “not good.”

“Yuuji did bring canned coffee for you though,” Nobara says, noticing how her classmate seemed to have blush marks under his eyes.

Megumi looked between the can of coffee to Nobara’s mischievous face, to Sukuna’s vessel and finally on your face… he connected the dots as he stares at Nobara for dragging him to a supposed “lunch”-date.

“Oh c’mon, ‘gumi,” she whispers. “Ya gotta admit this is nice.”

Megumi grunts sort of reminding himself they’re all teenagers in a high school surrounded by the occult practices of exorcising curses.

“‘S good to feel a little normal, right?” is all the Fushiguro boy says.

It’s not until two months later you are pivoted against Nobara for a sparring match with Gojo-sensei as the instructor. Somehow there is even some things which should remain secret. Like now, how you read Nobara’s movements after only seeing her attack once and how you laugh saying you’re having fun as phantom serpents wrap around your arms when you swing a throwing tomahawk her way and slice her face. It’s a rough cut, but not deep enough to require stitches, but when Nobara counters, you seem to dodge certain nails of hers. You’re not one to be outmatched by a peer, yet you are forcing her to think outside the box in terms ending this. You glance over at her teacher who just nods to stop this.

“‘M sorry?” you ask after Nobara walks away exhausted because for once her solutions weren’t sticking.

“You did good as a sparring partner,” Gojo is pleasantly surprised. “Think you can square off against Megumi tomorrow?”

“I have to check with Shoko, but sure?”

“Good, now go on get cleaned up and go back to class,” he instructs. “I have to make a quick call.”

[[Summer 2005]]

The first time you’re going to be able to arrive at the shores of Okinawa is also the first time you’re cordially invited to hang out with Gojo and his students. Why you were signed off by Shoko and even Yaga to go. Gojo must have framed it as a team bonding experience in order for you to be included. What you didn’t know was what led to this: rumors around the campus was that one strawberry blond who would not stop talking and asking about you caused this invitation to happen.

Room arrangements were made and more often than not you do not break any habits that were synonymous for you to breathing. At the sunrise, you were found on the sandy shores across the safe house listening to the world around you. Everything was harmonized from within outward. Nobara seemed to wake earlier sometimes, she sees you and says nothing as she goes to text her classmate. The two switch places for a moment and before long, the sun light kisses your skin and a phantom sigil under your eyes glow a deep kahjal black. You do your Sun salutations prior to realizing you’re not alone.

“You can join me if you like to watch,” you call over your shoulder on the second day.

Itadori Yuuji, Sukuna’s vessel, special grade, does just that. He sits with you one morning on the shore; you brought two blankets and he comes dressed in his long pants and tanktop; you’re dressed similarly except you bring a coat with you. Together you’re both overlooking the skies between the space of dawn and first light; Sukuna remains silent for now, learning more about what his vessel seems to be attracting to. Both of you glance up at the fading of the night and you face the boy you brought back from the brink and finally truly sees you in all the glory associated with the sun.

“Don’t be scared of me, ok?” your voice is low and gravely like you needed a pot of tea with copious amounts of honey.

“You think I find you spooky?” he seems a bit playfully amused, but he pipes down when you give him a forlorn look.

“Many didn’t like what we can do,” you carry on, closing your eyes trying to drown out the screams of those in your last you couldn’t save and those who were angry you let their loved ones pass on.

His gives you a once over and hums before you continue to meditate. He follows your lead on the next breeze that dances across the seas ahead of you. Just beyond the horizon, the rays of the sun start to shine.

Strength comes in many forms, so when he sees the sigils appear, he makes an attempt to hold your face. Gently, whispering to you a word of thanks, causing your lips to curl into a grin.

There is beauty in giving another a chance. Chances are earned, you reason and for right now, this individual holding your face, is smirking flirtatiously at you. And before the mayhem in the future no one can really predict, both of you decide to give romance a chance.

#🌻— flying around collecting pollen—queue #sora after hours #jjk x reader #🎋.jjk🎋#🎋.itadori yuuji x reader🎋

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