#Only for a future chapter to tear that down with Lady mentioning Rock to him and him having to ask about his skills and where to find him

[dmc-questions-anon]

Dante: What was it the old lady said? Was it "Don't talk to Rock for years and only do so once"? Yeah, that sounds about right.

[flowerandblood]

The Fall from the Heavens (26)

[ canon • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: mention of sex, incest, smut, angst, swearing ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

Characters & Series Moodboard Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Childhood

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

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Jace remembered perfectly the day his little sister was born. Laenor had led him into his mother's chamber that day, holding his hand, saying that she was very tired and they couldn't spend much time with her − he had insisted on seeing her because he was delighted to finally have a sibling, a brother to play with and be friends with.

His mother, the future queen, smiled softly at the sight of him, her white hair loose and in disarray, her face red from sweat and exertion.

She held out her hand to him and he hugged her, peering curiously at the infant she held clutched to her chest.

"He's so tiny." He said in disbelief, brushing the baby's finger with his own − he smiled when he saw the baby's hand clench into a small fist with its quiet purr.

"She. You have a little sister." He heard his mother's amused voice; he furrowed his brow at her words and rose, angry and disappointed.

"− wait, comrade −" Laenor called out after him, but he refused to look at her.

She was a disappointment to him.

For the first few months, he had pretended not to hear her cries or squeals from their mother's chamber − even though Rheanyra had spoken to him and encouraged him to meet her, he had refused to do so, recognising that no little girl interested him.

"It was supposed to be a boy." He muttered regretfully while playing with his large, wooden, black dragon, pretending that the stacks of books were the great hills over which he flew on Balerion. His mother smiled at his words and combed her hand through his dark curls.

"That is what the gods have decided. She may be your future wife."

Jace put down his toy, looking at her in surprise, not understanding what she meant.

"Am I going to have to kiss her?" He asked in disgust, recalling the stories Laenor sometimes read to him before bed, in which great knights freed beautiful women from the paws of monsters, only to fall in love with them later and be bestowed a kiss by them.

His mother smiled involuntarily.

"Don't think about such things until you're a grown man. No kissing for now." She giggled, pinching his cheek. He smiled lazily seeing her warm expression, the motherly love that beat from her.

That night he went to the chamber where she slept for the first time; he leaned over the cradle, glancing at her plump little figure wrapped in a white robe and a small headpiece. Her eyes opened suddenly and he was terrified that she would burst into tears − she, however, merely clutched her small feet and began to rock from side to side, looking at him curiously.

He smiled involuntarily at this sight and tickled her belly with his finger. Her squeal and loud giggle answered him, her eyes lit up in joy, her little body all the way up in euphoria. He laughed seeing this, repeating his gesture, thinking she was like a small animal, a puppy or a kitten.

He decided that at the end of the day she wasn't so bad and stopped pretending she didn't exist.

Until Luke was born he had treated her as if she were a boy, driving their mother to despair every time they both returned sodden with mud and sand after another battle with Aegon and Aemond.

He had always felt that his uncles disliked him, and even though they were of a similar age to him, he did not feel comfortable in their company − nor could he hide his jealousy at the sight of their snow-white hair, proof of who they were.

Looking at his father and mother, he could not comprehend why his hair was not that shade.

Rhaenyra explained to him that it was surely because of the Baratheon blood that also flowed through their veins, and although he was disappointed, the sight that he was not the only one, that his sister and Luke looked similar to him, comforted him.

The first time Aegon laughed sincerely at what he said occurred when he called his sister a hamster. The comparison came to his mind when she took air in her mouth and furrowed her brow − he uttered it thoughtlessly, and his uncle burst out laughing and patted him on the back.

"− gods, you're right − and those big eyes of hers −" He sneered, and although he saw that his sister lowered her gaze, embarrassed, he continued, eager to hear more words of praise from his lips.

"− she has just as much sense too −" He added, seeing his uncle throw him an amused, mocking look suggesting that he agreed with him.

He felt a squeeze in his heart when he noticed out of the corner of his eye that his sister had turned and walked away, passing through the cloisters towards their quarters without even giving him another glance.

He turned around and noticed to his surprise that he was not the only person to notice her leaving − his other uncle, Aemond, led her away with his eyes and then threw him a look full of despise, from which he felt discomfort.

He pressed his lips together at the thought that he was the heir to the throne and, unlike him, had his own dragon.

Who was he to look down on him with such superiority?

He decided to remind him of that and share that thought with his brother.

Aegon's involvement in their little joke surprised even him − his uncle thought it was an excellent idea. He argued that his younger brother was too sullen and serious for his age, that he was sapient and could use a little lesson.

As he listened to Aegon convince him that they had found a dragon for him, as he saw the hint of hope and the shy, embarrassed smile of excitement on his uncle's face, he felt for a moment that perhaps they should not do this.

However, it was too late to retreat − Luke ran deeper into the cave, and came out a moment later, leading by a rope a large pig to which they had attached self-made wooden wings early on.

"Behold! The Pink Dread!"

He saw that his uncle froze and turned pale as they burst out laughing, swallowing this humiliation with difficulty − his eyes glazed over and reddened, his gaze again blank and distant.

He knew they had broken him.

That same day he mentioned it to his sister, and her reaction angered him.

"You are cruel." She said resentfully.

Which side was she on?

"He's forever looking down on us because he has white hair. He's constantly making excuses and bragging about what he's read in those silly dusty books of his." He snorted, playing between his fingers with the gold coin their grandfather had brought him from another of his trips overseas.

He blinked when his sister simply rose from her seat and walked out, leaving him in a state of shock and displeasure − he decided, however, that these were just normal female emotions and would surely pass her until supper.

He loved his father, but he also greatly valued and respected Ser Harwin Strong. He was a stocky, tall, handsome man who could fight very well. He often spoke to him or helped him practice by sharing stories of his duels in tournaments and hunts.

He thought then that he would like to be like him one day.

He knew that he was a close confidant of his mother and often saw them together, however, his father seemed not to mind, so he considered this condition perfectly normal and did not bother.

After a few weeks, the will of their King fell upon them like a bolt from the heavens, and their mother informed them of it during one of their suppers together.

"− your grandfather and our King has decided today that, to strengthen our lineage, we will betroth your sister to your uncle, Prince Aemond − let us raise our cups for this −" She said, glancing towards her daughter, his sister smiling broadly at her words, happy.

What?

"− what do you mean? − why? −" He asked, feeling discomfort in his stomach and a cold sweat on his back.

They wanted to gift him his sister as a consolation because he didn't have a dragon of his own?

"− your grandfather wants peace to reign in the kingdom after his death − such a marriage in his eyes will strengthen our family and our bonds between each other − of course, the marriage will only happen when your sister is of the right age −" She said calmly, looking at her daughter with tenderness, taking an unruly strand of her dark hair from her face.

"− did you agree? −" He asked his little sister in disbelief, and she nodded quickly, as if it was the happiest day of her life.

"− yes − I'm very pleased − I'm fond of our uncle −" She said quickly, putting a piece of roast on her plate, describing how worried she was that she would have to marry someone much older than herself.

He stared blankly ahead, clenching his hands into fists, bitter and disappointed.

Had she really never considered him as her husband?

After all, he was her elder brother; in their lineage such marriages were obvious.

He dared not, however, defy the will of the King himself.

His resentment towards his uncle increased with each passing week seeing that, against his wishes, he was not being harsh and unpleasant to his sister − on the contrary, he seemed to have softened in her company, his face, though still pathetically proud, also expressing curiosity and affection.

He felt rage in his heart at the thought that they could really have wished to bring about this marriage.

However, the cup of bitterness overflowed the moment he saw his sister kiss him.

They were both too certain that no one could see them − he watched them from the corridor through a window overlooking the library.

His sister was standing by the bookcase, saying something to him, and he stood up and walked lazily over to her. He rose on his tiptoes and apparently reached for a book that stood too high for her. She smiled broadly as he handed it to her, her hand traveling to his shoulder.

He swallowed hard as her lips pressed against his, and as soon as she pulled away, her uncle grasped her cheeks in his hands and kissed her again, deeper and longer.

He fled to his chamber and burst into tears with rage, dropping all the objects standing on his table, disappointed and humiliated that although he was to become King in the future, someone else was taking away something that in his mind was his right.

He never wondered what kind of love he had bestowed upon her and whether it was the form of affection that usually bound married couples; he knew that he would care for her and be good to her and that was enough for him.

She was his sister and he would never hurt her.

She, however, looked only to her uncle and it was to him that she gave her heart and mind.

He didn't know what he felt when Luke slashed his face that night when their uncle stole Vhagar − horror, shame, satisfaction and relief all mingled in his mind into one.

On the one hand, he was overjoyed that he had taken back what in his mind should have been his, on the other he was embarrassed and distraught at the confirmation of his fears that had long smouldered in his mind.

It was Harwin Strong who was their father.

To his seed he owed his dark curls.

He was a bastard.

He tried to turn his thoughts away from considering what this meant for them, focusing on the fact that his sister would surely no longer want her uncle for a husband, and their paths would part.

This is exactly what happened.

Still, what he had planned did not happen, and his mother decided to change her plan and marry her off to their cousin, Lord Arryn's son, to strengthen her support in the North of the kingdom. Again, he felt a wave of disappointment, however, this time he was not so jealous − he knew that she had no love for their cousin and that he was certainly no threat to her.

"What's my little sister doing?" He asked with amusement, startling her completely, sitting bent over her desk − she quickly grabbed the parchment she had just been writing something on and tucked it under the table, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"Are you writing a letter to someone?" He sneered, raising an eyebrow, standing over her with a smile. She swallowed hard and looked down, thoughtful.

"I write poetry. But I don't want anyone to read it." She muttered, and he sighed quietly and nodded, acknowledging that he wasn't going to force her to do anything.

"Would you like to go for a walk along the beach? It's beautiful weather." He encouraged her; she, however, shook her head, no longer bestowing a single glance on him.

"No, forgive me. I'm tired."

He pressed his lips together at her rejection, which he had faced again and again since they had moved to Dragonstone.

Even though he tried to get close to her, to understand her and comfort her, she still didn't want him.

He was ashamed to speak of his feelings with his mother or stepfather, much less Luke, however, to his surprise, his closest confidant turned out to be Baela.

"I don't understand her. It seems to me that she still misses him, even though he has certainly forgotten her by now. I have heard that he is a cold, vain, self-obsessed man. He's always been that way, treating her only as an object, a consolation prize. Now that he has a dragon he doesn't need her." He said angrily − his cousin sighed heavily at his words, looking at him with understanding.

"When people part in anger and don't close a chapter, it's hard for them to move on. Perhaps she knew him in a way that is unknown to us. He's always been withdrawn into himself." She muttered disapprovingly, fiddling with the wine cup in her hand, gazing thoughtfully into the blazing fire.

He smiled at the thought that he was certain she recalled the impetuosity with which her uncle had punched her in the face with his fist that night when he lost an eye. Baela looked at him, raising her eyebrows.

"What's that look?" She asked and kicked him under the table with her foot. He giggled at her reaction and shook his head, lowering his gaze to her fingers.

"I would have been better for her. I would have really cared for her. Maybe I wouldn't have given her everything she needed, but at least with me she would have been safe." He said with a tiredness from which his companion sighed heavily. He lifted his gaze to her as her hand grasped his and squeezed it.

"I know." She replied softly.

He swallowed hard, feeling a pleasant warmth in his lower abdomen as he saw her soft, misty gaze, feeling her warm thumb stroke his palm. He grunted as he felt his manhood pulsate in his breeches at the thought that, indeed, his cousin was a very fine woman.

He had always liked her sharp tongue and confidence.

"Have you ever lain in bed with a woman?" She asked him suddenly, and he drew in the air loudly, shocked, feeling that his cheeks had certainly turned red with shame.

He didn't know what to answer.

He didn't want to humiliate himself with words that he had absolutely no experience in these matters knowing that she had a more liberated approach to these affairs.

Daemon, as her father, had expressed no dissent, so who was he to lecture her?

She sighed quietly, seeing his reaction, or rather lack thereof, and rose from her seat, turning her back to him, gripping the ties of her bodice with her hands.

"I need you to help me."

Baela was a calm and patient teacher − it seemed to him that she took great satisfaction in his lack of understanding of what she was actually doing to him as she sank down on his swollen manhood again and again with a moan of delight − her brown naked skin glistened wonderfully in the light of the blazing fire, her white curls falling over her shoulders in disarray, her full lips parted in obvious desire from which he felt his fulfilment approaching embarrassingly fast.

She made sure he didn't fill her with his seed, letting him instead come down on her abdomen with his low moan of pleasure, his length pulsating and twitching in her hand for a while longer. He licked his lower lip dry with emotion, looking at her in disbelief, a soft, shy smile on her face.

"− you're beautiful −" He whispered, and she giggled under her breath and kissed him in a way from which he felt hot in his heart.

She made him forget, at least for a moment, what was happening around them, finding in her both friend and lover, the confidante of all his secrets.

She was not jealous of his sister − on the contrary, he had the impression that she understood the source of his anger and disappointment, herself having no intention of explaining to him what she was doing and with whom.

It seemed to him that their relationship and its freedom suited them both.

Of course, they both knew that in the end they would experience a marriage that would inevitably be purely political, and they understood what that entailed.

Then their grandfather was injured on one of his expeditions, and Vaemond Velaryon challenged his younger brother's rights to the throne of Driftmark.

Knowing the truth about his parentage and at the same time refusing to accept it, he became enraged, sad and depressed at the same time − Baela's words of comfort that they would find a solution and not allow themselves to be intimidated did not reassure him.

Once again, his uncle and his family were trying to take their inheritance from them.

His return to King's Landing was a shock to him; to his disappointment, he felt like an intruder there, and it seemed to him that was exactly how he was perceived by everyone.

He felt a drop of cold sweat run down his neck, his stomach twisting with discomfort when he saw his uncle in the distance, wielding his sword as if it weighed nothing, easily defeating Criston Cole, pressing its blade against his neck.

He was tall, muscular, his long white hair, proof that he was in fact a Targaryen partly tied at the back of his head with a black ribbon, his jaw long and sharply defined, his gaze wild and cold, terrifying.

He smiled mockingly at the sight of them, playing with the hilt of his sword between his fingers as if he wanted to devour them.

He felt ashamed at the thought that he was terrified.

And then his uncle spotted their sister in the distance − his heart beat harder at the sight of their expressions.

It seemed to him that this reunion years later had caused them pain, as they both froze, breathing heavily, looking at each other as if there was no one else around.

His uncle hummed under his breath and turned away, nodding at Ser Criston, taking another swing with his sword.

Even though he hadn't cared what happened to her for so many years, even though he had humiliated her at supper by calling her Lady Strong, she had confessed in front of everyone that her place was with him.

He looked at her in disbelief, wondering what she was doing, why she had stooped to courting him when it was obvious that her uncle had neither respect nor affection for her.

After a moment, he heard his uncle's cold, trembling, deep voice.

"So it is decided, father. We will marry."

"How could our mother agree to this? How could she let her stay there?" He asked furiously, circling around his chamber in Dragonstone; Baela sighed heavily, turning her head away. She looked at him finally, hesitation in her gaze.

"I didn't tell you because I knew it would only enrage you and you wouldn't leave her alone." She said tiredly − he halted in half-step, looking at her over his shoulder, feeling his heart pounding like mad.

"You didn't tell me about what?" He asked dryly, frustrated and concerned.

Baela let out a loud breath, shaking her head. They were now betrothed, and although he thought they both seemed to have accepted their families' decisions with relief, he couldn't rejoice.

"My father told me that she had been sending him letters all these years. That the same night we arrived in the Red Keep she spent the night in his chamber."

He stared at her dully, feeling that it made him sick to his stomach, as if he were about to vomit, his face taking on an expression of disgust.

So she didn't write any poetry then, he thought with regret and pain.

"− how could she do this − expose our mother to humiliation and gossip −"

"Jace. She never stopped loving him. I think she's naive too, but you'd have to be blind not to see that she never really accepted it all. I don't know what I think about it myself." She admitted, running her hand over her face.

"You don't know what you think about it? I'll tell you. Our uncle will play with her and take advantage of her, and then he will put her up to ridicule and hand her over to us. He won't marry her." He growled angrily, burying his face in his hands, wondering how she could be so foolish, how she could believe that he had sincere intentions about her.

"The matter of succession is on a knife-edge. Perhaps our grandfather is right? A union between our mother and the Queen could really ease the situation." She muttered, clearly looking for anything comforting in the situation, which he completely failed to understand.

Had everyone around him lost their minds?

"My uncle who thinks we are bastards is supposed to alleviate the situation? He will never agree to let me sit on the throne and I am supposed to give him my sister?" He asked in disbelief; Baela tightened her lips at his words, frustrated.

"You speak of her as if she were an object. It's always been that way."

He felt an unpleasant shiver run down his spine at her words, every muscle in his body tensing like a string.

"What do you mean?" He asked coolly.

Baela sighed heavily, clearly trying not to explode and form her thoughts so as to be honest but not cruel.

"You think she was born to fulfil your whims? That the fact that you are her eldest brother gives you precedence to lie in bed with her?"

He felt himself blush with shame at her question, shocked.

Discomfort and arousal surged through his lower abdomen at the thought.

"Do you think that's what I mean? I'm just trying to…"

"Yes, Jace. I've never witnessed you ask her how she feels, what she needs. I am fond of you, but you are a selfish boy, not a man."

He felt ashamed at the thought as tears gathered under his eyelids at her words, a terrible, cold shudder shook his body, his heart began to pound like mad.

You are a selfish boy, not a man.

Her words so offended him that he stopped speaking to her despite her pleas, and then the thing he feared most happened.

The King was dead, Aegon had stolen her mother's throne and his uncle had imprisoned his sister.

They had made a mockery of them.

He had been right all along, but no one listened to him.

"Forgive me, Jace." Baela muttered, placing her hand on his shoulder. She knelt beside him, sighing heavily, laying her head on his thigh, and he involuntarily stroked her hair, feeling superiority, feeling strength.

He was going to fight for his mother's crown and bring his sister home.

In order to do so, at the behest of their mother, he flew to Winterfell to ask Cregan Stark for his support in this cause, reminding him of the oath his father had taken before her.

The North seemed to him a beautiful and wild place, so far from what he knew − the snow-covered hills, the austere fortresses of dark stone, the robes that looked only grey, black or brown around him gave him a sense of modesty and space.

Lord Stark's nature appeared to be similar to his, and the few days he had spent in his company hunting and riding horses had actually made him feel good − he felt like someone worthy with him, a true heir to the throne, not a bastard.

It was this feeling that, seeing the young Lady Snow from afar, he allowed himself to be enchanted by her charms and lay in bed with her.

Like a real man.

When he arrived back in Dragonstone he learned that Luke had just returned from Storm's End and that he had seen their sister.

"You flew after him? You flew after him knowing he could imprison you, use you as your mother's weakness? Fucking fool." Growled Daemon, shocked and horrified by his naivety, burying his face in his hands, unable to look at him.

"Daemon." Their mother rebuked him, all pale, her hand clenched on her womb. "What happened next?"

"He brought her. Someone hit her, mother, and I think she tried to take her own life. There were cut marks on her wrists." His brother muttered, and he felt his heart stop, he and Baela looked at each other quickly.

She had tried to take her own life.

Because of this bastard, his sister could be dead.

His hands clenched into fists at that thought.

"And then?" Pressed Daemon in an impatient voice.

"I told her to run away with me, but she didn't agree. She told me to tell you that she loves you and that she remains faithful to you, mother." He mumbled and he slammed his fist on the table, feeling fury and rage boiling up inside him.

"That fucking bastard purposely made her stay. He planned this, he never had any intention of marrying her!" He growled red with anger − Daemon threw him a single, drawn-out look.

"And then what? He let you just walk away? No one else saw you?" He continued, pretending not to have heard his outburst.

"N-no, I was surprised, but no. Forgive me, I had to see her, make sure that she is still alive." Luke said. Daemon sighed heavily and leaned over, placing his hands on the top of the stone table, thoughtful.

"Bring me a parchment and a quill. I need to speak with my nephew."

Baela followed him into his chamber in an attempt to calm him down.

"How can he want to pact with that fucking traitor? His brother stole my mother and his wife's throne!" He shouted in her face − his betrothed dropped her hands in a gesture of helplessness.

"Since he let them meet, maybe there is something to it. My father knows what he's doing, I trust him. I believe he will bring her home."

"You're naive. You always have been."

"And you're vain. You always have been."

He pressed his lips together at her words, feeling his heart pounding like mad, feeling like something was about to explode inside him.

"I met a woman in Winterfell who I took to my bed." He muttered finally, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye.

Part of him wanted to hurt her, and part of him wanted to be honest with her.

That was what they had promised each other.

Baela laughed at his words in disbelief and shook her head − he had a feeling he saw a shadow of regret in her gaze, but he wasn't sure if it was because of his confession or because she understood why he said it now.

"If you wish, I'll relate to you how I spent my time in your absence, but I'm not sure you'll be able to look into this guard's face afterwards." She sneered, lifting her chin high, looking at him defiantly. He felt a wave of hot shame and anger surge through his body.

"After we're married…are you going to continue this?" He asked uncertainly and she cocked her head to the side.

"If you are not faithful to me, I will not remain faithful to you. You are dear to me, but don't think I will cry for you. Certainly not like your sister cried for her uncle. Part of me has always envied her that she experienced such a deep feeling in her life even if it burned her from the inside for so many years." She said with a kind of regret from which he felt a squeeze in his stomach, but he answered nothing to her words.

He knew that they did not love each other.

They were close and felt comfortable together, but they weren't mad about each other.

He believed it just had to be this way.

He waited impatiently along with his mother and the others gathered for Daemon to return from his meeting with their uncle, simultaneously terrified and angry that they were speaking with traitors instead of fighting.

When they heard the squeal of Caraxes in the distance his mother stood up, pale, holding her hand on her womb again, as if remembering the time when she had carried her only daughter under her heart.

His other sister had died before she was even truly born.

When Daemon stepped into the main hall everyone was already waiting for him; he sighed heavily, placing his Dark Sister on the table top, folding his hands in front of him, straightening.

"Your daughter married her uncle of her own free will. My nephew has conveyed to me that his brother-cunt will relinquish the throne he stole from you if it is your daughter's children and his who become heirs to the throne or, in the event they do not conceive a son, ours − Viserys and Aegon. He demands the exclusion of Jace, Luke and Joffrey from the succession." He said dispassionately. He looked at his mother seeing that she had run out of words.

"− mother − this is −"

"− leave us − all of you −" She ordered.

"− mother − this is my inheritance − mine −" He began, but felt Baela's grip on his arm.

"− Jace − that's enough −"

He sat in his chamber thinking only of the fact that his mother was just contemplating whether or not to agree to deprive him of his inheritance, to acknowledge that he was her bastard despite the fact that he was her firstborn son, despite the fact that Laenor Velaryon had acknowledged him as his heir.

"− Jace −" Baela muttered, seeing his condition.

"− leave −" He said. He heard her sigh heavily as she approached him with a rustle of her gown, kneeling at his feet.

"− Jace − I'm on your side − I always have been − don't you see me as your companion? − your friend? − your lover? −" She asked with a pained expression that startled him. He lowered his hands and looked at her − his palm rose to her cheek, which he stroked with a tender, slow gesture.

"− you resent me − you don't see me as a man, but as a child −"

"− that is not true −"

"− I don't want your pity −"

"− Jace −"

"− you were right − I don't want to frustrate you and I understand all the accusations about me that you've made − my whole life I've been trying to be someone I'm not −" He finally replied, his betrothed's fingers grasping his hand and squeezing it.

"− that's what I mean − stop pretending − be honest with yourself −"

"− do you want me to be honest? − very well then − my mother has never asked my opinion on any important matters − Daemon treats me as if I am an imbecile and mocks me − I am both a first-born son and a bastard − my uncle wants to deprive me of everything, he wants me to be a nobody and why? − because when I was a child I gave him a pig? − god, I regret it, it was a cruel joke − I regret that he lost an eye, I regret that a dragon didn't hatch from his egg − but even if I had said that, what good would it have done − he would have laughed at me saying I am a weak cunt −" He muttered and burst out sobbing like a small child, hiding his face in his hands. Baela embraced him and cuddled his face into her oil-scented neck, stroking his hair.

"− I am grateful to you − I am grateful to you that you are honest with me − I am grateful to you that you have never lied to me −" She whispered and he wept softly, tightening his hands on the material of her gown feeling that the closeness of her body brought him solace.

"− I am grateful to you too − forgive me for not being what you deserve −" He mumbled, sniffling loudly, trying to calm the convulsions of his body and his ragged breathing.

"− I forgive you − I forgive you and ask for your forgiveness −"

When his mother came to his chamber that evening, he knew what decision she had made even before she opened her mouth.

"− Jace −" She began, and he turned his head away, panting with rage, burning tears of humiliation under his eyelids.

"− after all this − after all you've sacrificed − are you going to let them win? −"

"− how would I be a just Queen if I thought only of myself instead of the good of the kingdom? − any other solution will mean war with our own kin − is there anything else more displeasing to the gods? −" She muttered in a breaking voice in which he could clearly hear that she herself was suffering immensely.

"− you let them dictate their terms −" He said in disbelief, looking at her at last. His mother pressed her lips together at his question.

"− no − I intend to impose my own demands on them – none of them will be allowed to sit on the throne − none of them will wear the crown − they will be rulers-regents until their son, the rightful heir, is born −" She replied, forcing herself to be calm.

"− and if no son is born to them? − will you exclude me from the succession then? − your first-born son? −" He mumbled in pain, hitting his chest with his palm. Rhaenyra drew in air loudly, her eyes red from tears of pain and grief.

"− it's my fault − not yours − me and Laenor really tried, but −"

"− I don't want to hear it − I won't listen to it − why did you let me come into the world? −"

"− Jace −" She mumbled − he heard the rustling of her gown as she took a step towards him, but he held up his hand showing that he didn't want her to come near him.

"− I will leave Dragonstone to you − it belongs to me and I can give it to whomever I wish − no one will challenge your rights in this case, you will finally be able to live the life you deserve −"

"− I was meant to be King −" He hissed, and she swallowed hard.

"− as was I − but perhaps we are not meant to be − pride steps before a fall −" She said drily, her chin lifted high.

"− what does Daemon have to say in the matter? −" He asked lowly.

"− he is furious, but he will do as I command − just as you −"

[pics-and-fanfics]

Dreams (part 1??)

Pairing: Loki x Faerie!Fem!Reader

Warnings: nightmares, mentions of death, mentions of arranged marriage, reader is scared.

Summary: Your nightmares wake you up yet again, and you go to Frigg for advice, terrified for the future of Asgard, but mostly your husband.

a/n: idk if i wanna make another part of this, which is why theres question marks. also, i fixed my links! so now you can properly go to the story/chapter on both mobile and pc, so have fun! ❤️

You laughed, running down the winding paths and sprinting down the narrow cobblestone. Your bare feet slapped on the stones, the rare pebble digging into your feet and making you wince, but you kept laughing.

You look back in front of you, and now you’re in the forests, the sounds of battle all around you. You look down, and your dress is gone, replaced with your battle armor.

No. No no no no no no no! No no no no no!

This can’t be happening again!

“Y/N! Y/N! WHERE ARE YOU?!” Loki’s voice was anxious, just barely loud enough to hear over the sounds of the battle going on around you.

Draugr swarmed everywhere like a virus, killing and almost seeming to multiply just as fast as they got cut down.

You couldn’t move, you were paralyzed in fear. Breathing was supposed to be easy, yet you could neither gasp in nor scream out. The air was thick with the sounds of screaming and the smell of blood.

“Y/N! Y/N!”

You whip your head around, then finally let out a scream when you saw one of the Draugr running towards you.

Right as you should have been impaled by the Draugr’s sword, Loki appears in front of you, hands on your shoulders, looking you over.

“Darling, are you alright? Are you hurt?”

Your heart pounds as you struggle for words, seeing the sword in his stomach.

“Darling? Wha-” Loki looked down, and you watch as blood starts to pour from the wound as the sword is removed.

😴🛌💭

You gasp, sitting up in bed, heart pounding and tears in your eyes. You look around you, seeing Loki next to you in the bed. You take a deep breath, trying to stifle your cries, covering your mouth with your hand.

“It’s alright, it was just a nightmare, Y/n. He’s fine, everything’s fine, nobody’s dead, nothing happened.” you mutter to yourself, sliding out of the bed. You grab your dressing robe from where you had tossed it on the bench at the bottom of your bed, slipping it on.

Quietly, you grab the candelabrum on the wardrobe, making sure that your robe was cinched shut before quickly lighting the candles and stepping out into the hall.

😴🛌💭

As you stare at the door in front of you, you find yourself grateful that Odin was on a trip to another realm for a peace treaty. Taking a deep breath, you knock softly on the door.

The door opens, revealing Frigg, and you try to smile.

“Lady Y/n? Is something wrong dear? Did Loki-“

“Oh, no. I- I just- I need to talk to you. I’m fine-“ Even you wouldn’t believe yourself, your voice was cracking and you probably looked a mess, in your nightclothes and robe.

“Come in, dear. Would you like some tea?”

😴🛌💭

Loki rolled over, yawning, reaching for you. You weren’t there. He bolted up, looking at your side of the bed, empty. When he put his hand on your pillow, it was slightly warm, like you had been gone for a while.

“Y/n?” Loki got out of the bed, calling your name as he walked to the bathroom, hoping you were in there and hadn’t lit any candles so as to not disturb him, but you weren’t there either.

Loki started to panic, lighting the candles in the room, his heart pounding. Your robe wasn’t on the bench, and the candelabrum wasn’t on the wardrobe.

Harsh cries split through the night air, and Loki looked over at the rocker, Hela safe inside. Loki smiled, grabbing his daughter carefully, kissing her forehead. She’d grown so fast, she was only 6 months old and she was already starting to crawl and talk.

“Shhhhhh, Hela, it’s okay.” he whispered, rocking the baby back and forth. She had your smile, which he was reminded of every day.

😴🛌💭

“I’ve been having the same dreams for months now. I’m scared, I don’t know what to do.” You broke down in Frigg’s arms, tears rolling down your face.

After you stopped crying, you sat up, wiping at your face, sniffing. You smile at Frigg, accepting the tissue she handed you, blowing your nose.

“Do you feel better?” You’d been asked the same question hundreds of times, but the only times it was said with kindness was when it came from Frigg or Loki. You nodded, and she smiles at you.

You start describing the recurring nightmares you’ve had for weeks, the dreams of Loki dying in front of you, Hela dying in your arms, Asgard in flames as you held your small daughter in your arms, dreams of the palace going up in flames as you ran through the woods, and tonight’s dream of sweet memories turning to war.

😴🛌💭

Loki carefully set Hela down in her rocker, now peacefully asleep. He grabbed a candle, throwing on his robe and set out of your shared room, looking for you.

His first stop was at Thor’s room. He pounded on the door, knocking until it opened, revealing his brother.

“What is your problem, Loki? It’s-“

“I can’t find Y/n.” Loki says, glaring at his brother.

“What? You think she’s in here?” Loki watched as Thor rubbed his face, yawning. “I have no interest in your wife, brother.”

“Don’t try to twist this around-“

“Why would I want your wife? She’s happy with you.”

“She was supposed to marry you, or did you forget?”

“I was never interested in her, Loki. It was arranged. It wasn’t out of love, it was to make the kingdom stronger. That’s it. Besides, I was the one who backed out. She couldn’t. I saw how much happier she was with you, and I didn’t want any drama. You already make enough of it, I didn’t want more.”

Loki glared at Thor, who rolled his eyes, opening the door further, allowing him in. “She probably just went to the bathroom.”

“Do you think I’d be in here if she was? I checked.”

😴🛌💭

“That’s- a lot, dear.”

“I’m scared of what it could mean. They’ve never been wrong. I- I don't-“ Frigg held you as you broke down once more, tears running down your face.

Your dreams always hinted at the millions of possibilities for the future. The more frequent a dream or nightmare, the more likely it was too happen.

You didn’t want these to happen, but they’d been plaguing your dreams for months now. You were terrified.

😴🛌💭

Ik y’all are still waiting for part 15 of Drugs of love, love of drugs, but for some reason I just don’t wanna do it 🫤 Sorry! I’m trying to, and I’m slowly getting more written, but my brain is rejecting the hyperfixation that was only 2 months ago my favorite obsession.

Anyways, how’d you like this? I’m doing something a lil different, wanna see if y’all like my Norse mythology stories, not just Marvel fics. Lemme know if u wanna be added or removed from tags, and lemme know what y’all thought of this!

Love you! ❤️

@vbecker10 @mochie85 @michelleleewise @fictive-sl0th @silverfire475 @huntress-artemiss @vickie5446 @sheris532 @lokixryss @lokidokieokie @stupidthoughtsinwriting @crimson25 @peaches1958 @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @mybuckynotyours @thrutheburnout

[scottie-writes]

Under the Influence(CH.2)(Harrington!Reader)(Cousin AU)

CH. 2 Welcome to hell Hawkins

Summary: Summer is long and boring - but maybe your parents had the right sort of idea.  You become reacquainted with your cousin, and your small-town adventure begins. 

Tags: female reader, Harrington! ReaderCousin! AU, Scoops Ahoy, SFW, TW!mention of abuse(alluded to),

w/c: 3.2K

A/N: If you're here, thanks for returning and thanks for reading. If you're new, Welcome! you can find chapter 1 here We're still building, but we get to say hello to a familiar face, with more on the way soon! I swear Eddie is going to make an appearance in the near future!

...“It's decided.  She’s going to Hawkins.”...

-⌘-

The sound of your fork hitting the plate as if it comes from miles away, your parent's voices blurring as your mind whirls.  

Hawkins? Really? Did he think sending you away was the solution? It just solidified that you were not the child your parents wanted, and now they couldn’t even face you.  You could hear your parents discussing things, your dad sounding calmer now, but you only caught bits of what was said. “Do you think that will help?”, “I can’t stand this all summer, Mary”. 

Again, it was about them more than it was about you.  They were selfish, you decided.  They are selfish, stuck-up assholes.  Eventually, they turned to you, the subject of their never-ending disappointment. 

“Well, young lady, what do you have to say to that?” Your dad asked; surely he didn’t expect an answer from you? Surely he didn’t actually care about your thoughts on the matter? Not when it was blindingly clear they didn’t care one iota about who you were or what you needed.  You felt defeated, a hollow ache in your chest threatening to consume all of you if you dared examine it too closely.  You didn’t even notice the few tears that had escaped your eyes. “Fine”, you huffed, shoving your chair back, bonding your dinner in favour of the sanctuary of your room.  Why fight anymore? They didn’t care enough to try to set you straight for more than a few days.  

That night you cried.  Not entirely sure why; you should have expected something like this would happen.  In truth, you thought they would last a bit longer, at least two weeks, and then the anger would fade; work would reassert its dominance in their lives, and the grounding would be all but forgotten. You didn’t think they would get rid of you, like a sweater that was no longer in fashion. Once you heard them go to bed, you brought out the packet of cigarettes you had managed to hide away in your room and snuck out to the street outside your house.  You wandered for a short while, smoking and thinking.  You had two cigarettes left in that packet; you knew you would need more soon.  All the stores nearby would be closed by now, not that you had your fake ID anymore.  That had been swept away with your tapes - the cassettes being a convenient hiding spot for that particular piece of evidence of your misdeeds.  You head to your friend Tina's house.  A friend was maybe a strong word - you guys liked to smoke together.  Tossing a few rocks at her window to get her attention, you beckon her down to the street.  Filling her in takes a little longer than you would like. 

“Dude, is it true you punched the principal?” She asked, eyes wide and searching your face. “What? No! Who told you that?” You ask, lighting one of the last cigarettes before handing it to her. “It’s all over school,” She says almost gleefully.  “You’re a legend. Some kids are saying you tore up his office and got sent to juvie for assaulting him with a knife.” She chuckled before passing the cigarette back to you. “A knife? Seriously? The student body needs to get a handle on their fantasies.” You say, taking a long drag. “Well, as you can see, I’m not in juvie," she snorts and nods, the cigarette passing between you both. “I didn’t even really do anything.  I got mad a screamed a little.  I did break his clock, though.” You smirked at the memory of that stupid “teacher of the year” hitting the ground.  

“Either way, y/n, you're never living that reputation down now.  I even heard the teacher gossiping about it," which earned a groan from you. “What are you doing here anyway? You on the run?” She said with a wiggle of her eyebrows. You sigh and push your hair out of your face, “Kinda,” scuffing your toes along the pavement.  “My parents are sending me away for the summer; they think it's gonna straighten me out” Tina laughs again and finishes the cigarette, dousing it on the street. “Damn, that sucks” “Yeah, they took all my shit, so my ID’s gone. I was wondering if you had any smokes stashed away you would mind donating to a legend in need” you give your best attempt at puppy dog eyes as you plead with your occasional smoking buddy.  “Jeez man, ugh, I dunno. Hang on, lemme go check”.  

As she retreated into her house, you sat down on the step, head in your hands.  This is what it had come to.  No friends to say goodbye to, just an acquittance to ask for favours from. Before you could wallow too deeply, Tina returned two packets in her hands.  “All right, just because you're a legend now.  I’ve got a full pack and a half pack,” she hands them over to you and pats your shoulder. “Make good use of them.  I expect you to return the favour when you come back,” she says.  “Thanks, Tina, you’re a lifesaver” “Yeah yeah, don’t get all mushy on me”. You give her a mock salute as you start to make your way back home.  You would have to make these last. 

-⌘-

You’re an expert at sneaking in and out of your house, but you're still relieved when you make it back inside without your parents stirring.  Once back inside your bedroom, you tuck your newly acquired packets into your hiding spot - the belly of a stuffed animal that once carried a hot water bottle.  You’d had it since Christmas 1972, the only year Grandpa Otis chose Chicago over Hawkins. He brought you the bear, and it had kept you warm for years; it was one of the few things your parents didn’t feel the need to remove from you.  They probably thought it would remind you of better times.  You stuffed the two boxes into the bear, having smoked that last of your own stash on the way home and disposing of the carton. Looking around your room, you saw the life your parents had wanted you to have. The soft pink walls that would seem cosy to some made you feel like you were suffocating.  Looking in the mirror, you appeared out of place. Messy hair, flushed skin, and smeared mascara- the result of a seemingly endless supply of tears.

It took two days for your parents to arrange everything. “They're so looking forward to seeing you, dear,” your mom cooed as she 'helped' you pack. She relished the opportunity to get rid of the clothes she loathed the most. Your comfiest pair of Jeans, riddled with holes at the knees, were promptly removed from your bag and thrown in the trash. Usually, you would push back demand to keep them, but your fighting spirit is gone; why fight when they didn't even want you around anymore? You stopped seeing what went into your modest suitcase; it wasn’t much.  You were only going for a few weeks, after all.  In a shocking turn of events, you were given a modest allowance, $15 for the whole summer, so you didn’t have to be more of a burden on your Aunt and Uncle than you already were. It wouldn’t stretch too far based on your current spending habits - vices don’t come cheap, but from your parent's perspective, you weren’t supposed to be doing anything fun anyway. 

-⌘-

You get off the bus in Indianapolis, yes, the bus; they didn't even have the decency to drive you to hell themselves and are surprised to see Steve waiting for you. You walk up to him, bags in hand and sweat forming on your brow. " uh... Hey,” you give him a small wave as he takes your suitcase, leaving you with your tattered backpack and heads for the trunk. "I was expecting either Aunt Pearl or Uncle Andrew - not that it's not nice to see you”, you say as you both get in the car. “Yeah, well, they both had to work this morning, and I'm their errand boy these days," he says, starting the car up "It's nice to see you too.” He says after a long silence. You give him a small smile as he turns the radio on the rest of the drive passing in comfortable silence.

As you arrive in Hawkins, it's hard not to notice the changes. The stores on Main Street were either closed down or looked like they were on the verge of it. Steve must have noticed you staring  "they opened a mall,” He says with an easy tone, "it's a cool place, but it's tough competition” you nod silently. "I got a job at an ice cream place there; yeah, it's gonna do me for the summer, get me some life experience before going to college..." you let Steve ramble while you get lost in your thoughts.

Your Aunt is home by the time Steve pulls in the driveway. She hugs you as you come in, sending Steve to deposit your bags in the guest room.  

" y/n dear, it's been so long, my you’ve grown up so much since we saw you last," you placate her with small talk, both of you avoiding the reason for your visit. She rambles about your parents, how much the town has changed in the past few years and about a few other things you don’t catch.  You shift on your feet, you had been standing in the kitchen for about 15 minutes listening to her natter on, and it was starting to give you a headache.  All you wanted was a smoke - you hadn’t had one since you got on the bus, and that familiar itch was creeping up your throat.  She must have noticed your attention wandering then, “Oh, look at me twittering one.  You must be exhausted, dear. Why don’t you get settled and washed up.  Dinner will be ready in about an hour. ” You gave her a tight smile as you nodded and headed towards the guest room — your room for the next few months.  It hadn’t changed much in the past few years; the room was a familiar shade of yellow - although the paper had been changed.  It was stripped now, the last time you were here and had been swirly.  It was a nice change from your own suffocatingly pink room back home.  

Your bags sit on the bed, the soft pastels taunting you as your hang up the dresses and sweaters sets your mother had packed for you.  You noticed that a few of the t-shirts you had picked out for yourself had mysteriously disappeared.  You were left with one plain black shirt on one band shirt your mother obviously hadn’t looked too closely at. “Bitch,” you mumbled as you searched the rest of your bag.  As suspected, you had been left with only two pairs of jeans - light wash and pristine. You thank your good sense for wearing your black pair on the trip.  Luckily your hide-a-bear had made it to Indiana with you fully intact.  You pulled out a carton of cigarettes without really thinking about it.  

“I wouldn’t smoke those anywhere near the house if you know what's good for you” the sudden interruption jolted you as you remembered you hadn't even shut the door. “Jesus, Steve, you nearly gave me a heart attack," he chuckled as you stuffed the carton back into your bear and placed it pride of place on the middle of the pillows.  “What the big deal anyway, you gonna rat me out?” Steve looks a little disgruntled as the words leave your mouth. “Nah, what you do to your body is up to you.  But my dad has a nose like a bloodhound” he leant his body against the doorframe crossing his arms, and he looked at you, eyes serious and unwavering “I hung out with a friend once in junior year; they had one cigarette - I didn’t even touch the thing” His pitch was climbing, and a tone of defensiveness was creeping in “two hours later I came home, and my dad could smell it on me - Let's just say the aftermath wasn’t pretty” a grimace crosses your face as you wonder just what exactly your uncle’s punishment had been. You let out a heavy sigh and push your hair back off your face “sheesh, all right. well, thanks for the heads up.” He nods and moves to leave before turning back “besides, those things’ll kill you,” you smirk as he walks away.  You close the door this time and stretch out on the bed.  It was going to be a long summer. 

-⌘-

Dinner is ready precisely as your uncle arrives home from work.  It was a slightly awkward affair.  Your Aunt was the epitome of sunshine on a cloudy day - her tone was always delightful, and she carried most of the conversation herself your Uncle emulated the clouds, passing brief grunts of acknowledgement and adding his pessimistic two cents to her stories.  He finally addressed the dark cloud looming over your head towards the end of dinner. 

“Now, Y/N, I think it’s time we discuss why you are here.” He pushes his empty plate away and reaches for his beer. Your Aunt goes to start clearing the dishes, and he stops her. “Not yet, Pearl; I think we all need to understand the ground rules here” Her eyes flutter once, then rest on the table in front of her; you catch Steve rolling his eyes as subtly as possible.  Your Uncle clears his throat, getting your attention. “I am aware of your less than desirable behaviour, young lady.” He fixes you with a stare, giving you the impression that looking away would land you in a world of trouble “ Your school work is disastrous; you are rude and impetuous.  I mean swearing at a teacher, your principal, no less! In my day, that would never fly.  You're lucky your father didn’t beat the sense back into you long ago.” You flinched at the words, remembering Steves's face from earlier and understanding just what kind of man your Uncle was.  Your father had a temper, but he had never been violent. “I understand from speaking with your father the conditions of your punishment whilst at home.  You will be under the same conditions here.  You will not leave this house without our express permission, you will not be out of this house any later than 10pm, you will not engage in any illegal activities, and most importantly, you will not make a spectacle of yourself in this town.” 

As he lists the conditions of your sentence, you feel a flush creep up your neck and into your cheeks.  You find yourself holding back tears, and whether they were borne of anger or sadness, you weren’t quite sure.

“I have a few conditions of my own.” He continued, “In this house, we earn our keep.  You will have chores that will be completed to my standard without complaint.  You may seek a summer job - should you be successful, the limits of your punishment will be renegotiated.” He finally takes a long sip of his beer, and your eyes slip down to the table. This is a side to your uncle you had never seen before, he was calm and collected, but you could sense the roiling storm under his words - the one that would break free should you disappoint him in any way. “Do we understand each other, Y/N?” You raise your eyes to meet his “Yes, sir” he gives you a curt nod and leaves the table.  You understand from his mannerism that there will be no further conversation on the matter.  Following Steve's lead you help to clear the table and take up position in the kitchen to do the dishes.   

“He means it, you know”, Steves says as he scrapes leftovers into the trash, “huh?”,  “His conditions,” Steve says with a raised eyebrow. “He’ll see them through.” His tone is sombre, but with an edge that you can’t ignore.  You mumble and agree and nod as you dry the plate in front of you, returning it to the right cabinet once you’re satisfied. Steve continues, a little light entering his voice. “I mean, he is a man of his word.  Nothing stronger than the Harrington word, y’know.” He’s preoccupied with scrubbing a baking dish. “He’ll follow through on that job promise.  I took advantage of the same deal, if I’m honest.” You continue to dry and put away dishes quietly. “I could get you a job at Scoops if you’re interested. It pays crap, but it gets you outta the house” you consider it for a moment and flat him a smile.  “Thanks, Stevie, but it doesn’t sound like my kinda thing.  I’ll just be a house rat for the summer.” He nods as he hands you the last dish. “Besides, what’s a few weeks of solitude?  Maybe I’ll get some reading done.” He huffs and runs a hand through his hair handing your the last dish of the evening. “Whatever floats your boat, lemme me know if you change your mind.” He pats the doorframe before leaving you with your thoughts.  You sigh and lean against the counter, contemplating the lot life has handed you.  

As you climb the stairs to bed, your mind swirls.  You notice the creaks in the stairs, thinking about how in your own home, you knew the floors so well you could sneak in at 3am making less noise than a mouse.  You would have a much harder time sneaking out of here.  And even if you managed it, where would you go? The Harringtons were well known in Hawkins, and it was only a matter of time before everyone knew you were one of them.  There would be no hiding in plain sight here.  You stared at the bear on your pillow, itching to take its contents and release your stress, but Steves's words and your Uncle's threats echoed in your mind.  No point risking it on night one. 

You pick through the last of your things, a worn copy of ‘The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe’ at the bottom of your backpack.  It had been your favourite growing up, but you hadn’t touched it in a few years.  The thumb the pages, soft under your fingers.  You remember the first time your mom read it to you.  You had a nightmare about the Witch, and it was a while before she read it to you again.  But it quickly became a favourite and fuelled your love of reading. You sit it on the nightstand and pull out the magazines you’d bought at the bus station.  Flicking through them until your eyes got drowsy and falling asleep with the lamp on. 

[ficsilike-reblogged]

Sea Salt: One

Summary: As a noblewoman from a small (and nefarious) kingdom in the Stepstones and quiet Lady-in-Waiting to Princess Elia Martell, she is accustomed to being looked through rather than looked at. The only exceptions to this rule are Prince Oberyn and Lord Willas Tyrell but they are often far from the dark shadows of the Red Keep or Dragonstone. She finds comfort in her quiet friendship with the princess and the delight of the darling royal children. But as Prince Rhaegar places a wreath of blue roses in the lap of Lady Lyanna Stark and rebellion starts to rage, she knows she will have to live up to her reputation. But luckily, she seems to have two allies lurking in the shadows.

Pairing(s): Eventual Willas Tyrell/F!Reader/Oberyn Martell/Ellaria Sand

Word Count: 10.2k (these are all going to be monster chapters. I apologize)

Rating for this chapter: T for a bit of violence. but not much. my over-use of italics and my love for ASOIAF lore. If you have any questions or need clarifications, please just ask! I’m playing fast and loose with a bit of it, and a few ages, too. But I’m always happy to answer any questions you have!

(banner by my darling @starlight-starwrites) 

Chapter One: The Salt of the Tears 

Or you can read on Ao3!

For all its supposed charms and storied history, Westeros had very few redeeming qualities. Most of the noblemen Y/N was forced to associate with during her time in the kingdom were filled with intolerable hubris and a lack of humor. They also liked to joke about her ‘little kingdom’ in the Stepstones as being inferior and nefarious—it would have been better if they could actually choose what they wanted to call her home. It seemed to be impossible to be both inferior and nefarious. And everything was so…bland this side of the Narrow Sea. She was used to Skilliga where people could trace their ancestries to Yi-Ti, the Summer Isles, the Bone Mountains, and beyond, all of them proud and varied. All of them fleeing the constrictions of their old lands and finding freedom in the islands and the homes they dug into the rock. They were proud to defend themselves in any way that was necessary and gained riches and notoriety with their famed corsairs. And, finally, the clothes were itchy and constricting and the food was largely unseasoned.

But there were a few bright spots in her time in the Seven Kingdoms. Mostly, it was Princess Elia Martell. Her nearest and dearest friend. Accepting the position had not truly been her decision anyway. She had been woken up by her uncle Hammond, the king of their little kingdom, nearly four years ago with him tossing a heavy scroll at her head.

“Tywin Lannister is offering to open up trade with Westeros again if you behave yourself at Court and marry some lord they choose. I’ve had your things packed. You leave at sunup.”

And Y/N knew that she was serving her kingdom by becoming a faceless peon for some pompous princess and then, perhaps, a broodmare for some strange man—but that did not mean she was going to be happy about it. In fact, she had been fully prepared to be the worst lady’s maid the Seven Kingdoms had ever seen…until Princess Elia.

Elia with her quick wit and soft smiles.

Elia with her musical laughter and unfailing loyalty.

Elia. The best friend she had never dreamed of ever gaining.

They would spend hours together in either her rooms or Elia’s chambers at Dragonstone, speaking of their lives before the Targaryens, laughing about the charades of courtly life, and dreaming about their futures.

“What type of queen will you be?” Y/N asked with a tease as they passed a jug of sweet grape juice between them. Rhaegar was out…somewhere, probably pondering some ancient prophecy that didn’t make any sense, and Y/N was happy to not have to pretend to care about anything that came out between his thin lips. “Quiet and mysterious?”

Elia laughed and shook her head. “I have had my fill of being quiet, I think. No. I do not want to be a quiet queen.”

“No? Then you may be the boisterous queen, always telling Tywin Lannister than his ideas are preposterous and he is not the true king of the Seven Kingdoms.”

Elia shushed her, fighting another bout of giggles and reached for the jug but knocked one of the numerous pillows from the bed, revealing a small blade atop the blankets. “Another one?” Elia asked with a huff. She handed the blade over with a frown. “Honestly, dear heart, you seem to think that everyone means you harm.”

Y/N took it and carefully hid it away in another place with a shrug of her shoulder. “I have met only three people who I would trust to not stab me through the heart when I’ve turned my back. It is better to be prepared than to be caught unaware.”

“Please tell me that you do not still keep half a dozen blades on your person when we go to court or the market.”

“Of course not.”

“Oh, good-”

“It is now a perfect dozen.”

Elia walloped her with a pillow, fighting another laugh. “You are a menace.”

“I am your most trusted confidante in this wretched city,” Y/N retorted, knocking the pillow away with a smirk. “You need better friends.”

Elia shook her head, still smiling. “You are enough trouble for several lifetimes, dear heart. You and Oberyn will be the cause of all my grey hair before Rhaenys reaches her fifth nameday, I am sure of it.”

Y/N smiled at the sound of the Dornish prince’s name. It had been too long since she had seen him. While he had been somewhat sent into exile after the suspicious death of Lord Yronwood, the youngest Martell had hopped across the Narrow Sea to become a sellsword for a moment after growing bored at the Citadel and visiting his sister at Dragonstone where he had met Y/N and she had somehow endeared herself to him. “He will be joining you for the tourney at Harrenhal, yes?”

The princess nodded. “It will be good to see him. I always hated knowing he was off in Essos.” Elia sighed before she glanced at Y/N. “And I’ve received word that Lord Willas will also be in attendance.”

“Do not.”

“Do not what?” Elia repeated, leaning closer to her friend with a conspiratorial smile. “I simply mentioned his name.”

“You know exactly what you are doing!” Y/N growled, knowing it would only mean Elia had won—as she always did.

Willas was the firstborn of Mace Tyrell, the Lord of Highgarden, and Lady Alerie Hightower. He’d been an only child for most of his life, his mother having trouble carrying to term several times before little Garlan was born over a decade later. And Y/N was very fond of Willas, just as he seemed fond of her. He was happy to make her laugh when he was at court, seeking her out when he should have been speaking with Rhaegar and gaining the crown prince’s favor for The Reach (not that it was necessary) or attending some vapid luncheon with other noblemen.

“He is a good man. And you deserve a good man.” Elia patted her shoulder, soft smile on her face.

“He is the heir to Highgarden-”

“Mama?” A quiet voice at the door had them turning to see little Rhaenys, rubbing her teary eyes. Her kitten, little Balerion, was sitting dutifully at his princess’ feet and quickly kept pace on his little legs when she walked into the room.

“Come here, sunshine,” Elia said, opening her arms toward her daughter and carefully scooping her up onto the bed. She gently pushed Rhaenys’ hair away from her damp cheeks and kissed her forehead. “Tell me what is wrong, my love.”

“Another nightmare?” Y/N asked. Balerion meowed until she bent down and helped him onto the bed where he quickly curled into a ball in the princesses’ laps.

Rhaenys nodded, a few more tears trailing down her cheeks. “It was scary, mama. A big dog came in and…” she hiccupped and Y/N felt her chest squeeze at the little girl’s pain.

Elia hummed and patiently waited for Rhaenys to finish telling her what she had seen in her dream. While the massive dog her mind had conjured scared her, it was the manticore that crawled from beneath her father’s bed that truly frightened her. Its vicious tail going straight for her throat over and over again until she woke up with little Balerion pawing at her nightgown, trying to stop her cries. “It is just a dream, sunshine. You are safe here. I will not let anything hurt you.”

Rhaenys sniffled and nodded but continued to hold her mother tight. “I know, mama. You and Lady Y/N will protect me.”

Y/N reached out and curled the lone strand of silver hair that Rhaenys had around her finger. “Of course we will, princess. Our world needs its Sunshine.”

The little princess finally turned her head out of her mother’s chest and smiled at Y/N, tears still gathering at the sides of her eyes. “I’m your sunshine, too?”

“You are,” Y/N said with a smile, gently tugging at silver strand before letting it curl back around her ear. “You are my sunshine, your mother’s sunshine, your grandmother’s sunshine, uncle Oberyn-”

“And father?” Rhaenys asked. “Am I his sunshine, too?”

“Of course,” Elia said and then kissed Rhaenys’ hair again. “Your father loves you very much.”

The three spoke in hushed tones for a little longer—just long enough for the little princess to fall asleep in her mother’s arms. Elia was careful as she slid off Y/N’s featherbed and kept her daughter in her grasp.

“I suppose it is time for us all to retire.”

Y/N nodded and offered to help put Rhaenys back to bed but was waved off by Elia, as she knew she would be. Elia was always fond of the little, quiet moments she stole with her daughter. Away from the pretenses of courtly life and the expectations of her husband’s father. This was Elia at her brightest, her strongest. When it was just her and her sunshine.

Y/N often wondered if she’d ever have moments like that—moments of soft reprieve from the trials of courtly life, either here in Westeros or back home in Skilliga, near the Stepstones in the Narrow Sea. She also wondered if Rhaegar would ever pull his head out of his ass and realize that Elia was his wife and not some thoughtless vase he could ignore and only pick up out of necessity. She wondered what the future held. For everyone.

But, whatever it did, she hoped it treated Elia well. It was what the princess deserved.

**

Y/N gently rubbed Elia’s back with a frown. It was the third time this morning that they had to have the wheelhouse stop so the princess could empty her rolling stomach. She quickly handed Elia a bit of juice and a damp cloth as she stood tall again with a wince.

“It was like this with Rhaenys,” Elia murmured, a hand cradling her stomach. The maester had confirmed she was with child again, the day before they set off toward Harrenhal for this stupid tourney. "You remember, don't you?"

Y/N did. And she worried then, too. But the Maester had also found that this would be Elia’s last pregnancy. Her body would not be able to handle another. And Rhaegar had only nodded once before turning and excusing himself from Elia’s chambers to play his stupid harp, looking out his chamber windows with a familiar (and consistently grating) pensive look on his face.

“The dragon must have three heads,” was all Y/N heard him say when she was eavesdropping on the conversation the husband and wife shared later that night. He was obsessed with some sort of prophecy. It was as if he didn’t care that his wife was of fragile health and pregnant with his child.

Y/N hated him.

Hated the stupid, silver-haired prince.

“We can stop for the day,” Y/N said. “It is not as if the tourney will be held up by your absence. You need your rest.”

Elia shook her head and told the wheelhouse driver to continue on and the large caravan started to move again. “The sooner we arrive, the sooner I can rest. You know I do not sleep well on the road.”

Rhaenys, the little sun, had slept through most of the travel, curled up on the velvet pillows on the other side of the wheelhouse, barely aware of any goings-on aside from when they stopped for the night or meals. And that was the way Elia preferred it, sheltering her daughter from courtly life and its trappings.

Elia reached out and patted her hand with a small smile. “It is worth it, dear heart.” She leaned back and shut her eyes for a moment. “I know when I hold this babe in my arms, all of this will seem like a distant memory. All of it…all of this is worth it.”

Y/N was not convinced. But she nodded anyway. “Tell me, do you think Ser Arthur will beat Rhaegar this time?”

Elia laughed.

**

The tourney was the largest the Seven Kingdoms had seen in generations. Ten days filled with jousting, melees, archery, axe-throwing, and horse racing. And feasting. Every night ended with a feast in Harrenhal’s great room, filled with piles of food and jugs of expensive wine and ale.

It was exhausting. And much too far from a substantial body of water for her to feel truly comfortable. She needed the sea, the water. Thankfully, Rhaenys also found the tourney lacking and was happy to accompany Y/N to the edge of the lake known as the God’s Eye and they enjoyed the chilled water and allowed the hungry fish to nibble at their ankles.

Y/N had grown up watching horse races, bet on boat races around the islands of Skilliga, and even participated in a few events herself. This tourney was…boring. Excessively so. Elia, more than once, had to nudge her to keep her from dozing in their box. Thankfully, the company was good.

Arthur Dayne was a kind man, a fine knight, a member of the fabled Kingsguard and Sword of the Morning. Y/N was sure they would sing songs of his deeds long after his soul had left. And he had the honor of knowing he was the crown prince’s dearest friend. (Y/N did not think this was an honor but did not voice that to the kind knight and tried not to hold it against him.)

But Y/N saw how his eyes softened whenever Elia would appear. His easy smile was near-permanent whenever she would whisper into his ear with some joke or story. He was in love. A soft, gentle love with a bedrock foundation. It was so different than the lukewarm platitudes Rhaegar dealt her within the confines of their marriage.

Maybe in a different life, Elia and Arthur could have lived a happy life in Dorne together. Far away from the Mad King’s machinations and paranoid delusions and Rhaegar’s apathy. But now, in this life, Arthur had to be content to simply stand at her back in their royal box when he was not participating in the tourney—right now he was readying for his turn in the melee and Elia had wished him luck before he departed.

Ser Lewyn, Elia’s uncle and knight of the Kingsguard, was another knight assigned to their box and they knew they could speak freely in his presence. He was a man of quick wit and fiercely protective of his niece and her baby. He was one of the few people who knew of Elia’s second pregnancy and was quick to have a servant fetch her something to eat or drink if needed. “And you are as lovely, as always, Lady Y/N,” Lewyn would say with a wink. He was such a flirt—but it was always in good humor. She knew him to have a lover in King’s Landing to whom he was devoted.

For the moment, Elia and Y/N were alone in their box, unguarded. She knew that anyone would be foolish to try anything but it still set her on edge when she noticed the fabric at the back start to sway with someone coming up. Her hand slowly slipped toward one of the small blades she kept in her boot but then she recognized the man slipping into the box. It was Oberyn—three days late and smirking. He winked at Y/N and pressed a finger to his lips before he snuck up on Elia and roared with laughter when she nearly leapt from her seat when his hands clapped over her shoulders. “You brute!” She yelled as she smacked his arm. “I have told you a thousand times to cease your sneaking!” But she laughed on the last word, betraying her happiness to see her younger brother.

Oberyn was just as dashing as he had always been, just as confident. And just as unattainable. He was more than a handful of years older than her and as much as his reputation preceded him, was very picky on whom he lathed attention.

She was too young for him. He has said so himself not a year ago at their last meeting when Y/N had all but thrown herself at him, too into her cups to stop herself.

“You have so much life ahead of you. I would not dare think I was worthy of usurping your time when you have the world at your feet.”

It was a gentle rejection, but a rejection all the same. He was a good man, leagues far and away from the men who would jump at a chance to bed a young highborn girl or take her to wife. But that did not mean her heart did not clench every time he smiled at her or whispered a joke in her ear at the expense of the tourney knights or an unrepentant letch of a lord who caught his eye between jousts. He told them of his adventures with the Second Sons and how he founded his own sellsword company, too, after he grew tired of the politics within the Sons’ hierarchy while Elia and Y/N told him of the ‘excitement’ of the tourney and the actual excitement of the appearance and disappearance of the Knight of the Laughing Tree just the day past. King Aerys, raging and paranoid, had even sent Rhaegar to find the mystery knight and unmask him but the dragon prince came up emptyhanded.

“And I see little Lord Willas is here,” Oberyn said, dipping his head just so to indicate the box opposite them, across the jousting grounds. Willas was sitting at his father’s side, the shining wood of his cane visible even from a distance as it leaned against the seat beside him.

It was only Y/N’s third day in the kingdom when she attended the tourney when the accident happened. She knew Willas to be too young to truly be participating, he was only a few years older than Y/N, but Lord Mace Tyrell had pushed him. When Oberyn met him on the field, it was an accident. A tragic accident. Willas’ leg was crushed beneath his horse and Oberyn had been mortified, sending the Dornish healers he’d brought with him to the tourney to care for the young lord.

But the damage had been done.

Willa’s leg was in constant need of a brace and he walked with a cane. The Tyrells blamed Oberyn for crippling their heir. Well, most of them did. Willas bore no ill-will toward Oberyn and was often seeking him out when they were both present. “I am not sure if it is to spite his father or to truly try to mend the divisions between Dorne and The Reach all on his own.”

“I believe he seeks out your attentions because he enjoys you as much I do, my prince. Willas is not the sort to have ulterior motives when it comes to his companions or friends. If he did, I assume he would tolerate our dear Rhaegar’s presence a bit more,” Y/N mused as she half-heartedly clapped for the nameless, faceless victor of that round. She had stopped paying attention ages ago.

Oberyn huffed at that and turned to look at Willas and he caught the lord’s eye.

Willas raised his hand in greeting, a soft smile on his face—until Mace grabbed his wrist and all but shoved his son’s hand back down.

Y/N did not stop the laugh that bubbled out of her throat, even as Elia nudged her.

“He does blush such a pretty pink,” Oberyn mused, earning himself a nudge from Elia, too. “Do you think he will finally ask you to dance tonight, little shark?” He winked with the well-worn nickname, stemming from her house’s sigil of a large, white shark.

Y/N quickly turned in her seat to stare at Elia who looked away, a sly smile on her face. “Please tell me you did not speak to your brother about Willas.”

“I have no idea what you are insinuating, dear heart.”

“Willas is a good man, little shark. But you will have to contend with his family if you finally allow him to court you.” Oberyn patted her knee. “You will need every bit of your Skilligan strength to stop yourself from killing them.”

“Hush, Oberyn. They are not all terrible.”

“You, dear sister, are the soon-to-be Queen Consort of the Seven Kingdoms. It would be improper to think of you as anything other than the Realm’s Sun.” Oberyn smiled as Elia rolled her eyes. “I am the man who crippled their heir.”

“Willas does not believe it was your fault. We just need for Mace Tyrell to die and Dorne and The Reach will once again be fair weather allies. Olenna and Alerie are much more agreeable.”

“I could help,” Lewyn said as he stepped back into the box, carrying a sleeping Rhaenys. The two had slipped away from the festivities when the little princess complained of a headache and her great-uncle had been happy to shepherd her away for some rest in the shade and a bit of juice. Elia easily took her daughter into her arms and let her continue to sleep against her chest.

“A kind offer, uncle. But Oberyn is simply continuing to be the most dramatic of Martells.”

Lewyn reached forward and bopped his nephew on the head with a smirk. “I know.”

**

The day gave way to night and they were once again shuffled off to the Great Hall of Harrenhal for the night’s feast and dancing. Ashara Dayne, Arthur’s sister and another companion to Elia, joined them at their table, looking a little flustered as her pretty purple eyes kept jumping toward a table near the door where a small grouping of Northmen were seated.

“Which one has caught your eye?” Y/N whispered to her, trying to figure out which solemn-faced man captured her attention. Ashara was a romantic, always singing love songs to Rhaenys before her afternoon naps. She was kind-hearted and sweet, if not a little shy. Y/N enjoyed her company and how she cared for Elia. That was all that truly mattered anyway.

“The quiet one,” Ashara murmured.

“They are all quiet,” Elia said in return, also trying to figure out which one Ashara was speaking about. “Except for that she-wolf. She seems fond of making noise. I heard she thoroughly beat a handful of men for attacking that little Crannogman.”

“And then the Knight of the Laughing Tree beat them again at the joust,” Y/N muttered, thinking aloud. “Curious.” She turned to Elia. “Tell me, was the she-wolf in her box when that knight took his turns at the joust?”

Elia looked at her with a frown. “What are you implying, dear heart?”

“I do not know,” Y/N said with a shrug but then her eyes narrowed on one of the Starks at the table and poked Ashara. “That one? With the dour expression?”

“He is not dour.” It was nearly a pout. “He is just…quiet.”

Elia hummed and nodded. “Hm. Yes. The Quiet Wolf. I believe his name is Eddard. His brothers call him Ned. Is that right?”

Ashara’s cheeks bloomed with color and she looked away. “Yes, his name is Ned.”

Elia and Y/N teased their friend a little longer before the night’s festivities started and the people splintered off for dancing or singing or drinking contests—Robert Baratheon was the current champion of that impromptu tourney. Elia wanted to listen to music and had Y/N and Ashara move with her to one of the smaller chambers where they could hear someone plucking at a harp’s strings.

What they saw when they arrived was not entirely welcome.

Rhaegar was sitting on a bench, his familiar harp across his lap, and the she-wolf beside him with tears in her eyes as he sang a sad song they had all heard hundreds of times. (It was not as if he could write songs himself.) The young girl was clearly besotted with the prince.

“Princess,” Ashara murmured, turning toward Elia, trying to shield her from the sight. “I do believe Arthur is in the next room over. You promised him a dance, did you not?”

Y/N watched Elia straighten her shoulders and press a practiced smile to her face. “Yes, I believe I did. I could definitely benefit from a bit of revelry anyway.”

And one dance turned into two and then three as Arthur coaxed smiles from Elia that had Y/N releasing a breath she did not know she was holding.

She could kill Rhaegar, should kill him. She didn’t care if she was sent to the Black Cells for the rest of her life or if her head wound up on a spike—if it meant Elia was free. Free to love her babies without reproach for not looking Valyrian. Free to love whom she pleased (probably Arthur). Free to laugh and smile and dance. Free.

That was all Y/N wanted for her friend.

She watched the quiet wolf’s brother, Brandon she thought his name was, approach Ashara and point out Eddard who seemed to be trying to hide behind his tankard of ale with a vibrant blush on his cheeks. Ashara quickly made sure that Y/N was fine on her own before letting the elder Stark wave his brother over and they slowly, adorably started to dance. She watched from for a while and then spotted Elia now dancing with Lewyn with a sleepy Rhaenys balanced on her hip, too.

A quiet, rhythmic tapping of wood against stone caught her attention over the din of the music and she turned to see Willas stepping to stand at her side, a small smile on his face. “My lady,” he said with a tip of his head.

“My lord,” she replied with a smile of her own and a small curtsey. “It is good to see you again. Dragonstone and King’s Landing are far less agreeable since you were called back to Highgarden.”

Willas smiled, tucking his chin a bit. “I would prefer to be at your side, even if it is in that snake pit.” Y/N patted the seat beside her but he shook his head and held out a hand toward her. She didn’t comment on how his fingers shook. “I cannot dance, not truly, anyway. But I would be honored if you allowed me the honor of spending the next song with you.”

The smile that crept across her face could not be stopped and she quickly placed her hand in his and stood as the last beats of the song started. They took their position toward the edge of the floor, trying to keep to themselves as the next song started. And it was true, they could not truly dance. His leg could not accommodate the stomps and hard turns the song called for—but it was okay, because she had not taken the time to memorize the steps anyway. Instead, they swayed in time with the beat, taking an occasional turn to step to the side, ignoring how some onlookers clicked their tongues or whispered behind their hands about how ridiculous they might look.

“Tell me, how is Highgarden?”

“It is just as lovely as I have said before. My father is insisting on building a new aviary for my next nameday.”

“I assume this is because you mentioned once that you wanted to take up hawking? Hm?” She asked with another grin.

“He wants, so desperately, for me to be some sort of great man. Fit for song and legend. I think I will only continue to disappoint him.”

Y/N stopped her uneven swaying and simply squeezed his hands. “You are not a disappointment, Willas. You are the most intelligent man I have met and you are a capable man—capable of ruling HIghgharden in a way worthy of song. You do not need to be a warrior for that. I do believe that the world needs more smart, kind men. Like you.”

Willas sighed and shook his head. “You are too kind, my lady. But I do doubt that my father will be convinced of your reasoning.”

“Well, perhaps it is better that you are your grandmother’s favorite instead of your father’s. Your mind can and should be your greatest asset, Willas. It is one of the things I admire most about you.”

He finally looked up at her, another shy smile on his lips. “You admire me?”

“Of course. How could I not?”

His pale cheeks flooded with color and he nearly stumbled on the next step but quickly righted himself but stopped moving, holding her hands just a bit tighter. “My lady, I… Y/N…I was hoping if you would give me the honor of-”

Y/N nearly fell as someone collided with her back and Willas’s cane slapped to the floor in a clatter, gaining too much attention for Willas to continue.

Y/N turned to see some Northern lord—Roose Bolton, if she remembered correctly—sneering at her and Willas.

“Careful, my lady.” His voice was low and deep and might have been soothing to listen to if his pallid and angular face did not betray the complete lack of soul beneath his skin. She had only one other interaction with him and it had been on the tourney fields just before the first joust and he had been sneering with a few of his bannermen about how the Dornish knights must be tiny men with how small their horses seemed. (Of course, the Dornish Sand Steeds were smaller, but they were also faster and more durable than the horses these Northern lords were so fond of and could outlast them for days. Y/N had laughed heartily when Roose had been unseated by a Dornish knight not yet past his five-and-ten nameday.)

Willas huffed as Roose walked away and shook his head. “I will never understand that man. But if he was half as handsome as he was clever, the Realm would be in peril. I do not trust him.”

“I cannot say I enjoy his presence either.” She brushed away her discomfort and turned back to Willas, trying to press a smile onto her lips. “But what were you saying?”

Willas opened his mouth and was quickly interrupted again by Ashara, who did look apologetic to her credit, tugging at her sleeve. “Princess Elia requires our presence, my lady.”

She turned back to see Willas sigh before he nodded once. Before Y/N could excuse herself, he grasped her hand and pressed a kiss to her fingers. “I will find you again, my lady. Please enjoy the rest of your night.”

Y/N squeezed his hand before letting it drop back down to her side. She wished him well with her heart a little heavier in her chest, and let Ashara lead her back toward Elia who was standing with Lewyn and Oberyn and clutching a sleeping Rhaenys to her chest. But that was not what bothered her. No. It was the tears in Elia’s eyes and how Oberyn seemed ready to run his sword through anyone who looked at him incorrectly. “What is it? What has happened?”

Oberyn turned to her, teeth bared in a snarl. “The Mad King has once again let his thoughts be known that Rhaenys is too Dornish for his tastes.”

“She woke from a nightmare and I took her to her mother,” Lewyn explained. His large hand was pressing against Rhaenys’ back and Elia’s hands, a warm grounding force. “His Grace was nearby and little Rhaenys waved at him—she knows him as her grandfather.”

“Of course she does. Rhaenys’ heart is much too big.”

“And he turned his lip up at her and called her a…” Elia sniffled and held her daughter tighter. “A burnt leaf on the Targaryen tree. He said the only reason he knew she was his son’s daughter was the bit of silver hair she had.”

“How cruel!” Y/N exclaimed before turning to Lewyn. “Tell me no one heard him. Tell me that king of yours did not say this in front of anyone but you.”

And Lewyn’s answering silence was heartbreaking. He only continued to hold Elia and Rhaenys a little closer, a shallow consolation.

“The room was filled with people. Even the prince was there—he said nothing to stop his father’s tirade. Against his own daughter!” Oberyn was raging.

“Did Rhaenys know what he was saying?”

Elia shook her head, a tear slipping down her cheek. “No. She only thinks the best in people, my little sunshine. She was happy to be called a leaf.”

Y/N sighed and stepped forward to wipe the tear from her friend’s cheek and press a kiss to the sleeping child’s head. “The old man’s time is coming. I promise you that.”

“Y/N!” Ashara hissed. “You cannot say such things.”

“I will say such things when he says such things. Damn my uncle’s trade agreement. Damn it all. I will kill a king. I will do it.”

“No, no, dear heart. I cannot ask that of you—nor you, Oberyn,” Elia said, watery eyes cutting toward her brother. “I need you both at my side to handle whatever comes next.”

**

What came next, however, was Rhaegar winning the jousting tourney, with Elia’s favor hanging on the handle of his lance. There was a stupid tradition of the victor crowning a woman the ‘Queen of Love and Beauty’ and giving them a crown of blue roses. Y/N expected for Rhaegar to place the small bunch of flowers on Elia’s lap and be done with it.

But no.

The silver-haired prat rode right by his wife and laid the wreath in the lap of the she-wolf, Lyanna Stark.

All the smiles died.

Elia grasped Y/N’s wrist as she moved to stand, keeping her seated. “Your anger is appreciated. But I would not have more eyes on me for my husband’s indiscretions.”

It did nothing to quell the rage she felt burning in her throat. But she could be quiet. “I have Sweetsleep in my bag.”

“Y/N,” Elia snorted and shook her head. “No.”

“You’re right. Tears of Lys would be a better suit for his crimes against you.”

Elia finally uncurled her fingers only to tangle them with her friend’s as she managed a small smile. “You make me smile. Even when my heart is full of sorrow.”

Y/N’s kissed her friend’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “You deserve to smile, Princess. I will gladly play the fool if it makes you happy.”

Elia nodded and patted her hand. “I know, dear heart. I know it very well. But I…” the words died on her tongue as she turned to look around the box and found it lacking… “Oberyn.”

But Oberyn was already gone.

“Find him,” Elia whispered in a rush. “Before he does something rash. Stop him.”

Y/N instantly shot to her feet and darted out of the box in search of the Dornish prince. Luckily, it did not take long for her to find him, he was only a few paces away with his spear in hand.

She reached out and grabbed Oberyn’s arm and pulled him to a stop. “You cannot, my prince.”

“He has dishonored my sister in front of the entire kingdom. You cannot think to stop me from taking vengeance.”

“Elia said no. Would you hurt her further? You would be caught and executed and she and little Rhaenys would be as well. You know the Mad King’s wrath knows no bounds.”

Oberyn’s shoulders slumped but his teeth remained bared. “You are both too kind.”

“I offered to put Tears of Lys in his wine. I am not kind. But I would not make Elia suffer more than she already has.” She paused and watched Oberyn nod, appeased—for now. “Come, let us try to make our princess smile, hm?” Oberyn was breathing hard and Y/N pressed her hands against his chest, trying to help him breathe a little easier. “Calm—for now, at least, my prince. Breathe with me.”

He nodded and pulled in a few deep breaths through his nose and his grip on his spear loosened just a fraction. Oberyn leaned forward and brushed a kiss against her forehead. “Despite what you think of yourself, you are gentle hearted, little shark.”

“I know I am the worst sort of woman to have at your sister’s side, apparently. Always ready to murder if it would make her smile. Hardly well-mannered, too.”

“On the contrary, little shark. You are the best friend I could ever hope for her to have.”

**

The road back to Dragonstone was quiet, thankfully. Rhaegar had ridden ahead of their wheelhouse, not looking at his wife for longer than a few moments and kissed Rhaenys on her head before he set off.

It was for the best, probably. Y/N was not sure she could have stopped herself from murdering him if the opportunity presented itself—and it was always so easy for ‘bandits’ to attack a travelling party.

Oberyn was only able to accompany them so far before he had to divert his path—he had been called back to the sellsword he founded to deal with a contract dispute.

“I do not have to go,” Y/N heard him whisper to Elia the night before he left. “I can stay with you, Rhaenys, the baby. I can stay at your side.”

“I will be fine, Oberyn. I can handle this.”

“I know you can. But I don’t want you to do it on your own.”

“I’m not on my own.”

The wheelhouse hit a bump and Y/N made sure the sleeping princess on her lap didn’t jostle too much. It seemed that Rhaenys could sleep through almost anything. Even if her dreams were becoming increasingly erratic. The last night of the tourney, just a handful of hours after her father crowned a woman who was not her mother, Rhaenys had woken up in tears, babbling about dragons and fire and clouds of snow that never stopped. Elia had hummed her old lullaby until her daughter fell asleep again and it broke Y/N’s heart.

The two women she loved most in the world were hurting and there was nothing she could do about it.

“You’re good with her,” Elia said, a hand over her stomach. “And she adores you.”

Y/N smiled and curled her finger around the errant strand of silver again. “I adore her. I can only hope that if I ever have children, they are half as well behaved as her. She is wonderful, Elia. Your little sunshine.”

Elia smiled and drummed her fingers against her stomach. “I can only hope that this one is less troublesome as they come into the world.”

“I will be with you every step of the way.”

“I know, dear heart.”

And Y/N silently said a prayer to her gods—and then said another to the Seven that Elia was fond of, too—hoping for the best. Wishing for good health for Elia and her babe.

But her prayers were not answered.

Elia’s sickness continued and lingered as her pregnancy progressed and then King Aerys demanded Elia give birth within the ‘safe haven’ of the Red Keep in King’s Landing. He did not care that travel was not advisable in her condition. He did not care that Rhaenys was not sleeping well lately.

The Mad King cared for nothing and no one aside from himself. It was glaringly apparent.

It was just another reason for Y/N to hate these stupid Seven Kingdoms. She missed Skilliga. She missed how she could hear the ocean from every room in her family’s home, a massive, sprawling fortress carved into the steep rock face of the fractured islands—just like every other castle and fortress in their kingdom. She missed how clean the air was in her kingdom—smelling sea salt and fog. King’s Landing smelled of piss and moldy bread. Dragonstone was not home, not really, but it was far better than the city—and she feared far less for her friend there than she did at the capitol.

But she kept her mouth shut and held Elia’s hand as little Aegon came screaming into the world with a few strands of silver hair already crowning his head. But Elia was even more delicate after the birth, frequently needing to rest and seeking the guiding hand of healers who supplied her with calming teas and cooling balms. Y/N felt the exhaustion and relief rolling off her friend in waves as Aerys proudly presented his grandson to court, proclaiming him the heir to the stupid pointy chair. All of this made no sense to Y/N. Rhaenys was born first—did it truly matter that she was a girl? Women were set to inherit just as much as men in Skilliga—it simply mattered who was born first.

Oberyn had proudly told her that it was the same custom in Dorne—but the other six kingdoms in Westeros did not follow those rules.

And while the court celebrated the birth of another heir, Rhaegar took it upon himself to remind his wife that, “the dragon must have three heads,” before he kissed Elia’s brow and set off toward the vast library—again.

Arthur, however, hovered between dutifully following his prince and friend and staying at Elia’s side. The rigidity in her posture let those who knew her best know she was close to tears even though her smile had not moved from her face as she watched Queen Rhaella happily parade her grandson around the throne room, letting her ladies maids ooh-and-ahh over the new prince.

“Go, Arthur,” Elia eventually murmured. “I know he needs you.”

The famed knight’s shoulders dropped just a fraction before he bowed the slightest bit, excusing himself and walked away.

But Y/N was not done, feeling something bubbling her gut as she watched him near the door and she slipped away and pulled him to a stop.

“My lady?” Arthur said, eyebrows scrunched together as he looked at her hand on his arm.

“Ser Arthur, if you love her, as I know you do, protect her. Do right by her, by her beautiful children. Try to make Rhaegar see reason. See that his wife is good and gentle and all he needs.”

Arthur, proud, sweet Arthur, nearly crumpled at that and he nodded—just once—before turning and walking away.

“What did you say to him?”

Y/N turned at the sound of the small voice to see Prince Viserys looking up at her with hard, lilac-colored eyes. It must have been a miracle for him to escape the ever-present Septa and guard at his side—Aerys and Rhaella seemed to be hellbent on protecting their second son from some unseen threat. “I told him to make sure your brother stays out of trouble, princeling.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“And I don’t think that matters. Your mother will be looking for you.”

His thin lips pulled into an even thinner line but he nodded and walked away.

Apparently the Targaryen family was filled with presumptuous little pigeons. Truly, the only ones Y/N truly liked were Rhaenys (who was more of a Martell anyway) and Rhaella (whom she rarely saw as she was constantly nursing healing bruises and cuts from her husband’s ‘attentions’.) And she was sure Aegon would take after his mother too, making him another one of the few the Seven Kingdoms did not deserve. But Y/N pushed that thought out of her mind as she discovered Elia, still cradling Aegon, weeping in her chambers that night. A bit of parchment was set beside her on her undone featherbed and Y/N hurriedly tried to stop her tears, to know why her dearest friend was crying, but Elia only pointed a finger at the parchment and silently told Y/N to read it.

The seal of a snarling wolf was stamped on it with a wax seal and she could already feel herself growing angry.

The missive was short. But it said enough. It was from the she-wolf, Lyanna Stark. She was responding to the raven Rhaegar must have sent earlier—stating that she would meet him in the Riverlands in just a few moons’ time and that she was excited to be at his side, and away from her oaf of a betrothed, Robert Baratheon.

Y/N crumpled the note and threw it into the roaring hearth.

“I’m going to kill him.”

Elia sniffled and shook her head. “You cannot. I will not have my babies grow up without a father.”

“And I cannot have him shame you so. You deserve more than this pompous little lizard can give you—crown prince or not.”

Aegon fussed in his mother’s arms but quieted as Elia pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. “Rhaegar told me that he must have three. The prophecy he’s been obsessed with since he was a boy demands it, he believes. Something about the prince who was promised.” Aegon’s little hand reached up toward his mother and Elia caught it, letting his fingers wrap around her as she kissed his thumb with a watery smile. “The wolf girl—she will sate Rhaegar’s need for a third baby.”

“This prophecy he believes in is madness,” she hissed. “I will not allow him to treat you like this-”

“It is done, dear heart. He has made his decision.”

“Have you made yours?”

“What choice do I have?” Elia asked with a mirthless laugh. “He is the crown prince and I am-”

“A princess of Dorne. Mother of his two children.”

Elia waved her hand and looked down at her son. “All I want in this world is for my children to be happy.” She sighed, shoulders sagging under an invisible weight. “It is not the wolf girl’s fault. Rhaegar can be very persuasive. I hold no ill will toward her.”

“And toward Rhaegar?”

Elia’s beautiful eyes cut to her before falling down to her lap. She did not answer.

“The offer still stands for me to kill him, you know.”

“I know, dear heart. And I thank you for it. But I need you by my side. I know the times ahead will be turbulent. The Realm has not had a king with more than one queen since Maegor the Cruel.”

“He means to marry her?” Y/N hissed. The anger she felt bubbling grew hotter as Elia nodded and wiped at her cheeks.

“We shall both be his queens, I suppose.” Elia paused and sniffled once more. “I could love the child she bears Rhaegar as my own.”

And that took the wind from Y/N’s sails in an instant. Plans for a slow murder evaporate and she crossed the room to sit at Elia’s side, her hands coming up to rest on her friend’s shoulders, mindful of the babe in her arms. “Your heart was always too big,” Y/N said. “And I shall be at your side until the end of my days.”

**

Dragonstone was a welcome reprieve from King’s Landing. She could truly smell the sea again, leeching a bit of the tension from her shoulders. It was even more of a respite when Rhaegar left (again). He had been playing his stupid harp and looking even more melancholy than usual before he kissed Rhaenys and Aegon on their little heads and bit Elia farewell.

Y/N knew what he was setting off to do—the little She-Wolf waited for him.

And she also knew that Arthur had finally confessed his repressed feelings for Elia and had gently kissed her under rising sun before he was called away by an unsuspecting and unknowing Rhaegar who waited for his trusted friend at the gates of the castle. She had spied it from her chamber window and had not told Elia what she had witnessed, only noting that she was fond of smiling that day. The smiles continued as Elia received ravens from Oberyn and Willas, filled with words of congratulations for her new babe and well wishes for her and her growing family. “And Oberyn wants you to know that you are not allowed to be Aegon’s favorite as you are Rhaenys’—he has deemed it selfish and he will challenge you to a duel if it seems that Aegon prefers your company to his when he visits next.” Elia laughed and showed her the slip of parchment with Oberyn’s flourishing handwriting.

“And Willas wishes for me to give you his best, and hopes that you remember your dance at the tourney as fondly as he does.” Y/N tried to pull the parchment from Elia’s fingers but it was jerked away at the last moment as Elia laughed. “Oh no, dear heart. I am going to keep this to read when you have babies of your own our dear little Willas!”

But the smiles would not last.

It started as whispers than grew to a scream. Lyanna Stark had disappeared with Rhaegar Targaryen. Was she kidnapped? Had she gone willingly? Elia had tried to dissuade the Stormlands from taking up arms against the crown, led by a ‘hurt’ Robert Baratheon, but Y/N surmised that the ravens the princess had sent had gone unheeded. The Baratheons wanted blood and they would have it.

And that meant that the paranoia of the Mad King was now proving prophetic.

Aerys had killed two Starks and wanted the heads of the others who were leading the Northern infantry toward the Trident. He wanted Jon Arryn to send him the head of his former ward, Robert Baratheon as a show of loyalty.

Arryn refused.

War raged.

Aerys called Elia back to the capitol.

“He is only doing this to make sure Dorne stays loyal,” Elia whispered to Y/N as they lay together in Elia’s bed as a storm raged outside. “But House Martell keeps its promises—there is no need for threats. No need to keep me and my babies as hostages.”

Tears slipped down Elia’s cheeks and Y/N gently wiped them away. “I will protect you, Elia. I promise you that.”

**

The sail of the ship was emblazoned with the sigil of House Redwyne—Willas’ grandmother’s house. The stupid burgundy grapes on blue cloth had never been a more beautiful or welcome sight.

Willas.

Her dear, sweet Willas had heeded her call. And now it was time for Y/N keep her loved ones safe. She had a sleeping Rhaenys (and tiny Balerion) in her arms and Elia had a fussing Aegon in hers as they slipped from Elia’s rooms and took the servants’ stairs down to the courtyard and toward the seldom-used docks on the north side of the fortress as thunder rolled overhead with a coming storm. The stone steps had weathered away and the wooden ladder down to the dock had been washed away ages ago. Y/N had to hand Rhaenys to her mother for a moment before she jumped down to the dock and took the sleeping girl back into her arms.

The Redwyne ship was nearly there. Their sails had been pulled down, letting them look like unmarked and unnoticeable trade ships.

“Princess Elia?” A voice boomed in the dark.

Elia looked back toward the castle and then down at Aegon, her grip tightening. Rhaenys stirred in Y/N’s arms and opened her eyes, little brow furrowing at the commotion around her. Y/N carefully set her down on the dock, holding her hand tightly before turning back to Elia.

“You can make it, Elia. Just jump. I will catch you!”

Another shout of her name had Elia looking backward.

“Elia!” She hissed. “We must go!” It would only be a matter of time before someone discovered the three bodies Y/N had dropped to clear the way for the little family. They never saw her or her hidden blades coming in the dark.

But Elia was frozen and the shouts of her name grew louder. Slowly, so slowly, Elia’s head turned and with a flash of lightning, Y/N saw what she was looking at: a fleet of ships blazoned with the three-headed Targaryen sigil headed toward the eastern dock.

They had come.

Elia turned, still clutching Aegon to her chest. She kissed him once more before pressing him down into Y/N’s arms. “Go. Go now before they catch you. Protect my babies.”

“We can make it! Elia, please-”

“Mama!” Rhaenys cried. “Mama!”

“Go, my sunshine. Remember, I will always love you.”

Y/N looked out to see the ships were docked and a small army had come to take Elia and her children away to King’s Landing.

“Princess Elia, you have been commanded by King Aerys to present yourself and your children in court immediately.”

She had to go.

Her choice had been made.

**

The Redwyne sailors were accommodating to the two crying babes and frazzled, foreign woman on their decks as they sailed toward Skilliga. They made sure they were settled in the captain’s quarters and left them with a bit of water and berries before mentioning that, “Lord Willas hopes you will write to him when we arrive at Skilliga.”

The captain had the good grace to look a bit ashamed before excusing himself.

“Where’s Mama?” Rhaenys asked as she snuggled down into the well-worn blankets of the small bed.

“She is…visiting your grandfather.” The words were bitter on her tongue and she pulled the blankets a little higher to Rhaenys’ chin and kissed her hair. “Get some sleep, sunshine.”

“What about Aegon?” Rhaenys asked, eyes fighting to close.

“I will make sure he gets some sleep, too.”

Content with that answer, Rhaenys nodded and finally let her eyes fully close. And after checking on the little prince, tucked away in a bassinet made of a half barrel and a mound of blankets—a far cry from the golden crib he had at Dragonstone, she let herself cry.

**

Rhaenys was fond of how her voice echoed in the halls of her temporary home. She would laugh and sing and talk and just listen to it echo as little Balerion circled between her feet. And that gave Y/N a small bit of joy, to know that Rhaenys was still able to smile—even if she asked for her mother every time she work and every time she was tucked into bed. Even if the little princess still screamed with terrible dreams filled with fire and ice almost every night.

Aegon was a happy baby, content to be in Y/N’s arms and babble at the dolphins and sharks he could see from the fortress’ windows.

It was good to be home. Truly, it was. The sound of the sea and the scent of its salt were a balm to her fraying nerves but it was lacking something now—lacking Elia.

Every night, Y/N would pray to each and every god and goddess she could think of to keep Elia safe. To let her come back to her babies. To live the life she wanted to when this rebellion was over.

Every night.

But, again, her prayers were unanswered.

Hammond slipped into her room before the sun rose nearly a year since their escape from Dragonstone and gently woke her by rubbing at her shoulder, like he had done thousands of times before. He had been her father, her only parent, since her parents died of a simple sickness when she was twelve. And now, it seemed, it fell to him to be that parent again.

“I have to tell you something, Y/N. I am so sorry.”

The words rang in her head, echoing over and over again as he continued to tell her what had happened in Westeros. News had reached their little kingdom that Aerys was dead. Rhaegar had been beaten and killed at the Trident. Robert was King. And Elia had been murdered.

“A-are you certain?” She asked, the words strangling the breath from her lungs. “Surely it cannot be-”

“They said the Lannister men presented her body to Robert, rolled in a red curtain.”

A sob wrenched its way out of her throat as she crumpled back into her blankets. Gone. She was gone.

Her uncle let her cry for a moment, sitting on the edge of her bed like a stalwart guard until she caught her breath.

“But there is some strange news, too. It seems the Lannister men thought they needed to prove the Targaryens were dead. Two little bodies were presented to the Usurper too. They claimed they were little Rhaenys and Aegon.”

“What? What? I-”

“Only you, it seems, knew that Elia had come to the capitol alone. They must’ve killed a poor kitchen maid’s children, thinking they were the prince and princess.” His roughened hand gently wiped at her cheeks. “I sent you to that wretched kingdom in hopes that we could strengthen our alliance, grow our fortunes. I am sorry. I am so sorry.”

And Y/N could only cry.

**

It was only a handful of moons later that a servant came into Y/N’s rooms and announced that a strange man had demanded Y/N meet him on the small island off the shore of her family’s fortress, the only island outsiders could land on safely.

Y/N knew it was stupid to go. Knew it was stupid to kiss Rhaenys and Aegon on the crowns of their head as a nurse Y/N had hired watched them. Knew it was stupid to take the small boat she had carved when she was only eight out to the island by herself. But she did it anyway. She needed it.

On the little island, a small patch of tall, green grass surrounded by soft sand and sharp rock, stood a man she thought had died.

Arthur was standing there, his white KIngsguard cloak long gone and the armor missing as he held a small bundle in his grasp. And he was bleeding. Bleeding bleeding bleeding. But he trudged forward and pressed the small bundle into her arms and then he nearly collapsed to his knees at her feet.

“It is finished.”

She looked down at the bundle and gasped. A baby—there was another baby.

“What? Arthur? What is this? Who?”

“Rhaegar wanted to name him Vaemond. But Lady Lyanna…she kept calling the babe Jon before she even brought him into this wretched world.”

This was Lyanna’s baby. The baby Elia said she would love as her own. And so now, she must, too. Y/N huffed and the babe in her arms squirmed, full lips pulled into a pout. “Then Jon he will be.” Rhaegar had done enough damage to his children. “Where is Lyanna?”

“Dead. The childbed took her.” The words were punched out of him and his unfocused eyes looked at the babe in her arms. “You’ll care for him, won’t you? He’s innocent in all of this.”

“So was Elia. So are Rhaenys and Aegon.”

“So it is true then?” The hopeful gleam in his eye made her chest lurch. “You have her children? They’re safe? I thought it was just rumor that Elia had been alone when she arrived in King’s Landing. I thought she would never leave her babies…”

“She only left them to keep them safe. And, for now, they are safe.”

Arthur was quiet as Y/N looked down at the baby in her arms. Jon’s pudgy little arms reached out toward her and she adjusted her hold to let him wrap his hand around one of her fingers. And she was lost. He was a precious little one. Another babe for her to care for.

Arthur suddenly fell to his knees and Y/N hurried to try to keep him upright while still keeping little Jon comfortable. But Arthur pushed her hands away, leaving blood on her skin from where he had touched her so briefly. “Will she forgive me? When I see her…will she forgive me for helping her husband in this stupid fight for prophecy?” His purple eyes filled with tears and they slipped down his dirty cheeks.

Y/N did not need to ask who he was asking about. She knew. “Elia forgave you the moment it happened.”

Arthur nodded and hung his head. He was finished. “Thank you, my lady.”

“Rest, Arthur. You have earned it.” She placed her hand against his head, the closest she could be to him in the moment and, in the next few breaths, he was gone. His body slumped to the soft grass.

Y/N sighed and held Jon a little closer. Another one…another person she had considered a friend had been taken and she was alone again. And, she promised herself then. This would be the last time she cried. This would be the last time she lost someone.

This would be the last time.

AND ANOTHER BANNER BY MY BABY MARS @thesadvampire​

A/N: Please let me know what you think. This is a bit of a slower burn so I hope you guys don’t lose interest. :) thanks for reading!

[katsuflossy]

Whatever It Takes

Pairing: Dabi x reader

WC: 2.3k

TW: Detailed parental abuse, detailed description of a mental episode, obscenities, mention of arranged marriage

A/n: ngl all of this is severely overdue but the recent chapter made my creative juices flow so here we are! Please enjoy💖

Taglist: @melanimed @mixfi @mythiccheroacademia @myhoodacademia @mypimpademia @ecao @strawberry-ice @plutropica @photosbyameil @lunabby010 @iiminibattlehero​ @sleepysheepkiara​

The air was crisp, dark, and cold, what one had expected for the autumn night. Only a few patrons roamed the streets in the twilight. Those that wander under the streetlight had their eyes crossed, mind buzzed, and hand full of one final drink due to being kicked out of the bars. The ladies of the kingdom stayed within the comfort of their homes. They laid around the compassion of their loves or their families, only knowing of the horrors of the outside through gossip. The most recent urban legend paced through the streets with a scowl fixed on his face. Azure eyes glowed danger through the darkness, never revealing the coat-clad scarred body until passing under the street lights. The drunks waddled out of Dabi’s way, feeling the rolls of anger off of him from a twenty-meter radius. For once, the fire quirk wielder ignored the low bastards, never smirking as they cowered in fear nor sparking their shoes afire, laughing as they tried to put them out. No, his mind was occupied, fist clenching and unclenching in the pocket of his coat. Thoughts of past and future overwrote each other in his brain, creating a void of black in his mind. His own psyche started to turn on him again, knowing what’s about to happen would risk many lives. However, Dabi cared only about two lives-- his own and yours.

Like God gave him a sign, he passed the alleyway of a sweet memory. Running away from authority was his regular schedule since the age of 11 but he was close to getting caught one day. Caught but cunning, Dabi held you, hostage, by the neck. The little blue flame from his finger close to searing the flesh of your cheek as he backed into the dark alleyway, away from the entire police force out front. He dragged you through numerous yards before you begged him to stop, hands on your knees as you gulped for air. Glowing eyes stared at the ruby necklace that swang from your neck, almost daring him to try to take it. The second his fingertips could graze the jewel you slapped him away, grip tight on the chain and a fire in your eyes.

“You could take anything from me—shit even the pads of my shoes if you want—but I don’t want you to take this. Here, I’m sure the ring will cost more.” You glided the ring off your hand before offering it to Dabi.

Confused couldn’t even describe Dabi’s thoughts at that moment. Are you really offering a lowlife scum precious jewels? With a smile on your face?

“Are you demented?” The tilt of your lips turned down into a scowl. A haughty hmph passed your nostrils as you looked away from the criminal.

“You were stealing from Greggley’s pawn shop. The same bastard that swindles townsfolk out of their money and rats out people to the police for a living. I’d pay to see that fear on his face again when you ran off with me and his pile of stolen goods. So here’s my payment.” Dabi cautiously took the sapphire ring from your palm. The situation was ironic, he seemed more fearful than you. Cyan eyes watched as the dust on your outfit disappeared by the pats and sweeps of your hands before jumping up. You stayed rocking from the heels of your feet to the soles, eyes waiting expectantly on the chilled man to say something. Instead, his eyes bored straight into yours, deadpanned as he occasionally averted his gaze from the entrance of the deep alley, then back to you. The shouts of police guards had left from long ago; the sounds of their frantic pace went far off into the distance. Yet, you remained in this cramped space with him.

It unnerved him to no end.

“Well, your highness, your mutts went the other way to look for you. You can scurry away now,” He questioned his words. Why is he letting you go so easily? You were a perfect hostage. Just by your yelp, he could have your father in his palms, an important piece to the league’s ultimate plan. The smile on your face didn’t ease his confusion at all. His eyes burned with irritation, upset by your cheerful demeanor.

“Oi, are you fucking braindead? I said scram,” Your face dropped, forming a pout before pulling into a smile again. Dabi felt his eye twitch as you began to chuckle. His hand igniting blue flames as he stepped towards you. You put your hands up into the chilly air.

“Woah now, I’m just saying I could be of more use, Mr. Criminal.” The heat dissipated from his hand. His eyes looked as cold as marbles but within his head, he roamed over the possibilities, how and why should he trust you. Dabi was never a gambler, always a mouse wary of traps but today, he felt lucky. The once fiery hand laid out before you, staples glinting in the dim lighting.

“Dabi,” his eyes roamed over your face, noticing the crinkles at the corner of your eyes never softening, the gleam in your eyes shining more than before. You were actually happy.

“You already know my last name but that’s unimportant right now. The name’s (Y/n).”

The memory cleared away like smoke, reminding Dabi of his mission now. His hand clenched around nothing, his fist tight to relieve the searing anger in his chest. He imagined burning Shigaraki over and over, enveloping in the heat of his wrath as punishment for putting him on this mission.

Red beady eyes looked at Dabi in nonchalance, ignoring the smoke rising from his scarred hand.

“We built our whole organization on this end goal. We are one step closer to annihilating these ‘heroes’ and you’re rejecting this offer? Over some little noble mole?” the insult adding more fuel to Dabi’s rage and fire. His flames barely reached Tomura before being engulfed into another dimension thanks to Kurogiri’s interference. Unrelenting glares fixed at each other. Even then Shigaraki continued.

“I’m not saying it again. Either you do your job and save your blue-blood or they die by our hands.”

His eye pulsed; an ache coiled around his nape to his temple. His own anger throbbed in his head and blindsided his mind. He could add Shigaraki to his body count but your life, to him, was paramount. He withdrew his fire, recollecting himself before shoving his hands into his pockets. He surveyed the room, eyes scanning all the league in disdain; the others avoided his intense gaze. The gravel crunched under his heavy boots as he stomped out of the hideout.

Shigaraki’s threats echoed through Dabi’s head, anger already swelling at the thought of his red eyes as Dabi reached the edge of your house. The whirls of wind carried his coat in their stream, pulling the fabric all about. The walls of dark stone contrasted the warm yellow lights of your not-so-humble but welcoming abode. Dabi only knew the layout of your room but whenever he’s in there, there were hardly any lights from behind your bedroom door, just the occasional shuffling of the maids.

He halted his thoughts, pressing his foot against a jutted brick before hopping on to another. His movements were smooth and familiar as if he had perfected this route. He sat on the window’s stony ledge, fingers rapting against its pane, staring into the night as he waited on you to open the window panel.

Meanwhile, you were balled up in a corner, fingernails creating welts on your skin. Still, the stinging pain didn’t distract you from the taste of iron in your mouth, the phantom feeling of blunt rings on your cheek. Your silent cries shook you to your core, sharp inhales forced your weeping to stop, only for them to return again. All crying ceased once you heard knocking on your window, the same three raps then two softer taps only known to two. A familiar rhythm, one that closely relates to the song you made the criminal danced to during one night at a pub. The precious memory was unable to soothe the paranoia of your mind right now. A hitch in your breath paused all noises in your little quarter. If you stopped breathing, maybe he’d think no one was home. You ultimately stopped breathing only for harsher rapping to strike against your window.

On shaky legs, you stood up, swiping off any trails of tears and snot from your face. The cold air greeting you swung open the window for Dabi, who immediately hopped into the warm comb. He barely skimmed over your appearance before asking.

“What the fuck happened to you?” His hand came up to your swollen cheek; an obvious insignia marked the skin. You didn’t flinch away, instead, you wet your lips, pressing more into his palm. His hands were chilly from the cold outside but the contact warmed your entire body.

“I can’t do it anymore, Dabi.” A broken whisper escaped your lungs. Tears bled through your closed eyes, wetting Dabi’s thumb as he swiped a lone one away. He stood still, billions of thoughts jumbling in his mind as you bawled into his chest. Should he do this? On this night? Your well-being and the league’s plan fought for his attention. Every thought of his mission drowned by the sight of the insignia on your face.

“(Y/n), what the fuck did he do to you?” His shirt crumpled within your hands as you contemplated telling him the truth.

Nobody expected your father, an honorary Knight-Captain, to abuse his only child. It took one loose-lipped servant to say that you were seeing a commoner man in the kingdom for him to wrap his hands around your throat. You remember your body flailing, the coldness of your cheeks as tears fell from your bulging eyes. He dropped you by your mother’s cold command. As you gulped for any type of air she told you to stand. Her patience grew thin quickly as she ripped you off of the ground, your legs nearly collapsing from the force. A shroud of care she put herself under, letting her adorned knuckles skim across your cheekbones as she talked about your fate. You're being shipped off to marry the highest knight family, the Todorokis. Enjirou, commander of the Kingsguard, sought after you for his son, Natsuo Todoroki, for months. Your inappropriate actions caused your arranged marriage to arrive quicker. Her veil lifted, and in an instant, she whipped her hand across your face, the blow smacking your staggering body to the side. Their eyes entertained at your cry. She fixed her rings as she declared your fate. House arrest until the Todorokis picked up their new toy. They left you on the ground, weeping until Dabi arrived.

Stammers and hiccups escaped your lips instead of comprehensible words. His shirt crumpled under the intensity of your grip. In that time, Dabi had gathered all the information needed. The look in his eyes was unreadable as he loosened your constriction on his clothes, fingers interlacing in between your shaky digits. A shadow cast over his face as he talked to you.

“(Y/n),” your eyes dull and lost, you were wrapped up in your own severed psyche. A finger on your chin, he guided you to meet his eyes.

“Let me fix this,” It wasn’t a duel, but warfare that unfolded in his headspace as he asked, begged for your permission. You barely felt yourself nod before seeing the flame reignited in Dabi’s eyes. The smile on his face grew like a wildfire, nearly meeting the staples under his eyes. He left your numb body with a soft peck and a willful promise before walking, for the first time, out your bedroom door. Muted footsteps sounded miles away even though he left the door wide open. When did you end up on the ground, scraped knees meeting the plush of your rug, though you did not feel it? The warmth of the room dissipated from the air, goosebumps rising along your skin. Your body could only focus on one sense at a time, tuning into the sounds around you. Though muffled, you could hear the guttural screaming coming from rooms away. The cries formed into pleas before morphing back into incomprehensibility. Whether your body was protecting you from further trauma or not, your audible sense shut off only to look at the smeared blood all over your rug. Your ears never picked up on your outcry, pushing your diaphragm, but Dabi’s did.

He sprinted back to your room immediately, leaving his fires to completely consume your parents and lick at the foundations of the walls. His black coat draped over your body before he lifted you into his arms. The hungry fire now satiated, he left the same way he entered but with now, with you within his arms.

He knows what he did wrong, rubbing salt into your traumatic wounds, but he had a mission to do. He held your trembling body closer to his lithe frame. The league finally made their first step to instigating chaos but that did not matter right now. Dashing through the alleyways, he took a look into your blank eyes, cast away into another realm. The sounds of the Knights fighting against your burning house faded as he ran. He rested his forehead against yours, eyes squeezing shut as he made another promise to you.

“No one will ever tear us apart. I don’t care if this whole place burns to the ground. Just know you are the only one that matters. It’ll just be me and you at the end. Whatever it takes to get there.”

[threadofdestiny]

Magnolia (Bakugou x F!Reader)

Feudal Japan AU

Shogun!Bakugou x Midoriya’s sister!reader

Summery: Her mother, lady Midoriya Inko, had once told her that the gods had predestined a path for every single person. All she had to do was follow the path and trust that it would lead her to happiness. But how could (Y/N) find happiness in a political formed marriage with her brother’s rival, a man known for being brutal and cold hearted?

Warnings: sexual content in later chapters / period-typical-sexism / strong language / violence / Drama / Angst / Fluff / Slow Burn/ political marriage / Reader is Izuku's sister / period-typical-discriptions like vague mentions of longer hair to form typical hairstyles or specific wardrobe / Bakugou is not good at feelings / Bakugou is a mean, explosive boi / third-person perspektive

Wattpad

AO3

If someone wants to be tagged, just let me know :)

Taglist: @bakugous-mamas​, @bnhastories​, @brittkimm​, @ ellieitstimetosleep, @belladonna-the-aphrodisiac​

Chapter 1, Chapter 4, Chapter 6

Chapter 5

Crumbling down

"You can't be serious, Kacchan...This is going way to fast! I am sure that we could make him keep quiet until we are past the traditional engagement period! If not, I could send her to some of my relatives until the rumors had died down. Away from the capital. Away from society."

"Damn Deku! Are you really that fucking starry-eyed to take a chance like that? Your sister was attacked a mere few hours after you were publicly declared as the heir to the throne! As if she would be safe anywhere else than with you or me."

"P-Perhaps no one realized what happened on the festival. Even if, such a swift action will only make people more suspicious, maybe even casting you in a bad light! In the worst case they'll think you've laid hands on her before your wedding."

"What do I care about that? Let them think that I couldn't keep my hands off of her long enough. In their eyes, I'm already the bad guy anyway. It's better than having followers of Shindo trying to spread lies and people to start questioning the hell out of you in response. When they are going to question her reputation, they are going to question yours as well!"

"Like that's even remotely better, when they are going to question yours!"

"Are you deaf, you dumbass? It does not fucking matter! They should fear me anyway!", the shogun interrupted his interlocutor in a sharp voice before continuing his explanation a bit more quietly but just as urgently after he paused for a second to take a breath:"He could lay a claim on her, forcing you to concede, if you want to prevent a scandal. You'd be forced to break off the engagement between her and me to give her to Shindo at worst. Do you really want to give that slimy liar the power he would automatically receive as the brother-in-law of the next emperor?", Bakugou growled dangerously agitated behind the closed doors of Izuku's study.

All the servants of the household had to retire earlier that night by Lady Midoriya's instructions in order to put the illusion of privacy to their noble masters minds. The now dead silence in the halls of the mansion was only broken by the dull sounds of the quarreling men which sounds penetrated through the thin walls, giving the lonely almost creepy mood a dramatic atmosphere. The banging of shattering porcelain and the vigorous shouts of the men, startled the two lady's who were standing in the hallway all alone by themselves. Sobbing, (Y/N) pressed her head against her quivering mother's shoulder, flinching every single time when either one of the men exchanged too harsh words with one another. Both ladies listened to the heated argument between the furious shogun and the equal upset head of their family, not daring to interrupt them in any way. With trembling fingers, the young girl clawed at the fabric of Lady Midoriya's kimono, hiccuping every few seconds due to the endless tears that streamed down her face. Her mother tried to calm her down by gently stroking over her now loose hair, but the resounding sounds of the quarrel, made her flinch over and over again.

"I'm so sorry... I-I'm so so sorry!", (Y/N) repeated desperately against her mother's neck, who tried to soothe her daughter, by rocking her back and forth like a child that cried out of the loss of its most precious toy. "Shh, you're not to blame. Everything will be fine!", she whispered into (Y/N)'s hair as she hugged her tighter against her soft, motherly chest, hoping to shoo her daughters inner fears away. Clanking and rumbling sounds came from the study as Bakugou began to shout again:"Do you think I feel like tying a damn, troublesome woman to my leg right now? I've got more important things to do than to deal with your family's shit, but we don't have a fucking choice, because all the other ways this could turn out are even shittier!", Bakugou's aggressive voice echoed through the walls, like the roaring of thousand thunderstorms as he loudly stomped around the closed room like a rampant bull. Wincing, (Y/N) dug her face deeper into her mother's shoulder as she heard him talking about her like she was a nuisance. The young girl clutched at Lady Midoriya, like she was the only thing that prevented her from drowning in her own sorrows. As if the woman was the only one that could save her from the path she would have to take after that life changing night.

How could she have been so careless? What had she done to deserve that fate? By a single moment of not thinking straight, her entire world had turned upside down once again. Only to boost her unstoppable fate to the immeasurable. With each passing second her control over the situation had slipped away, like grains of sand incessantly trickling between her fingers. She had conjured up a disaster that had fueled his dislike against her and her family and had managed to become a burden for her brother and her fiancé in a mere few hours. How should she survive such a start to her predetermined future and turn it around for the better?

"Kacchan, please! It was not my sister's fault that she was attacked. If anything, it was my fault. I should have taken better care of her. I should have anticipated that people would try to use her to get to me.", Izuku replied in anguish. Even through the barrier, (Y/N) could hear her brother's voice breaking as he blamed himself. He, too, was on the verge of tears. She heard it loud and clear. Her compassionate brother blamed himself, though he could do even less about Shindo's act than she could. If she had just stayed with him, or asked him to accompany her, none of this would have had to happen.

.

.

.

It had taken an eternity until both men had calmed down enough that their voices could no longer be heard through the thin walls. Another eternity had passed until, all at once, heavy footsteps sounded near the door before it was pushed open with a loud thud, revealing the illuminated study. Wincing, mother and daughter pulled apart as the looming shogun appeared in the doorway. His vermilion eyes scanned the hallway until they finally landed on his quivering fiance. When he caught sight of her teary eyes, his grim expression softened minimally, while he beckoned her over with a gesture of his right hand:"Come here, girl. There are some things we need to discuss!"

Nodding obediently, (Y/N) followed her future husband into the room where her brother was standing by the window, looking dejectedly through the cold glass. The darkness swallowed up the details of the garden behind and plunged everything into barely discernible shadows. The dimmed light of the individual candles, gleaned on the glassy surface and reflected Izuku's lamenting face. Without hesitation, the young girl knelt down on the soft tatami mats before stretching out her hands in front of her in a pleading pose, asking for forgiveness. Her forehead almost touched the ground as she quietly raised her thin voice: "My actions has brought grave repercussions upon our family. No matter what the consequences will be, I will endure them without hesitation!", the youngest Midoriya announced with a trembling voice, before she heard her brother draw in his breath sharply. "By the gods, (Y/N)! You can't help what happened tonight! I should kneel before you and beg for forgiveness!", exclaimed Izuku after turning to his sister, trembling resentfully. With brisk steps, he had run up to the youngest Midoriya to hastily pull her up by her upper arm, pressing her against him in a firm hug. Bakugou was silent as he watched the spectacle for a few moments with an unmoved face, before shortly after he cleared his throat to draw the sibling's attention:"We don't have time for this sentimental nonsense!", the blond shogun growled softly as he turned his gaze exclusively on his fiance's quivering frame, to address her directly:"It doesn't matter at all who is to blame for this fuss. As you had said, we're in a predicament now. So either way, you're not going to avoid having to endure the consequences.", he added as he busily began pacing the room with long strides. Izuku broke away from his sister, nodding sadly, as he placed his hands on her shoulders to calm her down. "Bakugou is right.", the newly appointed heir confirmed as he briefly pressed his fingers against his sister's collarbone, looking her straight in the eyes. Nodding, the young girl bit her lower lip as she waited for the consequences to be revealed.

An uneasy feeling spread through the area of her stomach as she gazed with teary eyes from her brother to her grimly looking betrothed, just to look back to Izuku, when he spoke up again: "I am sorry, sister, but we do not have time to wait for the proper engagement period to be over. To counteract certain rumors we will have to hold the wedding at the end of this week. That means you'll be leaving together with Bakugou in a few days to accompany him to his lands!", Izuku explained softly as he sadly averted his eyes.

A shiver ran down (Y/N)'s spine as her brother uttered the words she had secretly feared to hear. She hadn't even noticed that she had been holding her breath with pent-up tension, but she couldn't explain otherwise where the slight dizziness came from after she finally exhaled thin air out of her aching lungs. Nodding dejectedly, the youngest Midoriya clutched the thin fabric of her robe before letting her gaze drift to the side to look ultimately at her future husband's face. When her glassy eyes collided with Bakugou's vermilion ones, her breath caught within her throat for a brief moment. All of a sudden, it felt as if the youngest Midoriya's heart had burst out of her chest with all its might. It raced in unison with her thoughts as she slowly became aware of the full extent of her situation, clenching achingly, as she tried to swallow the lump in her throat.

Gone was the time to prepare herself for her inevitable future. Gone were the future opportunities to get to know Bakugou before their wedding. Gone was the vast amount of time she previously had left with her family, suddenly vanishing into thin air. All at once the memories she could have collected with them before her departure were torn away from her because of one single moment. One single mistake. One single power hungry man. In a mere few days she would belong to Bakugou Katsuki. She would have to ultimately leave her home to go with a man she had met only twice. Never in her life had she left her family for more than a few hours at once.

Forcing herself to come to her senses, (Y/N) ripped herself out of her depressing thoughts, shaking her head absently, before she averted her gaze away from the Shogun's captivating expression. She nodded again, accepting her fate, as she swallowed hard. "I-I see!", she murmured relentingly, as she turned her saddened gaze back to her older brother, who's eyes were glistening with unshed tears.

"Good, then we can now move on to the short term planning. We don't have much time to prepare, since I can't postpone the journey.", declared Bakugou bluntly, without trying to sugarcoat the situation as he sat down at the table and picked up a quill and some sheets of paper. With a faltering breath, (Y/N) listened to her future husband's words, after she and her brother had joined him at the table. Izuku sighed heavily as he briefly reached for his sister's hand to give it a firm squeeze before responding to his guest's statement: "...That would mean we barely have time to organize a proper ceremony!", he remarked gloomily as he briefly glanced in (Y/N)'s direction. Bakugou, however, just shrugged disinterested, before replying nonchalantly: "I don't mind. I'm not interested in throwing a huge celebration and having my feet kissed by some lickspittles, anyway.", the shogun grumbled, before he suddenly paused, turning his eyes towards his fiance. (Y/N) took a moment to realize that Bakugou was looking at her questioningly. He hadn't said it, but it seemed surprisingly like he was waiting for her opinion. The young girl blinked a few times before she dared to speak up: "A-ah.. a small ceremony sounds pleasant, I guess. P-Perhaps only with our closest confidants. It would be quite... private.", she breathed uncertainly, though truthfully, while she tilted her head to the side in thanks. When Bakugou nodded in satisfaction, the youngest Midoriya relaxed a tiny bit, watching how her betrothed began to write down some notes on the blank paper. The scratching of the quill on the paper echoed unnaturally loud in the otherwise silent room, before Izuku cleared his throat to share his own thoughts as well.

"We already handled most of the details in the previous contract. However, I have decided that I would like to send my sisters personal maid with her, so that she has someone around her who is not a stranger to her...", Izuku began slowly, before hesitating for a moment. He watched as the blond man included his request in the supplemental contract before the heir began again: "A-As for the dowry..." "I'm still not interested in the dowry, Deku. Save it for your sister, or do something else with it.", the Shogun interrupted brusquely, surprising (Y/N) who listened in astonishment. Her dowry was extremely high. She had never thought anyone would let that much money slip away, but Bakugou brushed it aside as if they were talking about some pocket money. Izuku caught himself, clearing his throat before nodding in defeat:"Very well, then, as it is customary from the bride's family, we will at least cover the cost of the wedding ceremony. I'm sure we can get the temple master to organize a mass in short notice when we offer a larger donation.", he murmured as he also reached for his own quill to write down a few sentences in the process. It took some time for Bakugou and her brother to finally agree on all the last minute changes, but in the end they both signed the amended contracts, finalizing the youngest Midoriya's short-term change of fortune.

Finally, Bakugou clicked his tongue as he rolled up his copy of the contract. Rain pattered against the pitch-black window, which successfully warded off the cold of the looming night. Red eyes gazed scrutinizingly in the flickering candlelight over the masses of scrolls and books which rested on the shelves against the walls, while the shogun let his rolled-up document disappear into the inside of his traditional robe.

"We are getting married this Saturday and will leave early the next morning. Use the rest of your time to prepare yourself.", the Shogun spoke as he turned his attention to his fiance. After receiving a sad nod from (Y/N), he slowly rose from his seated position. Izuku did the same to escort his future brother-in-law out of their home, but before Bakugou started to move, the blond man silently bent down once more to place a small box on the tabletop in front of the young girl.

"I would have actually given it to you before I left, but now that you're coming along, you get your second engagement gift now!", the blond shogun grumbled dismissively as he turned his face away with the corners of his mouth pulled down. Astonished, (Y/N) glanced up at Bakugou, before she accepted the gift as she slowly reached for the small box.

When she opened it, she caught sight of an ornately designed fan. The intricate woodwork of the dark handle was set with gleaming auspicious-looking copper-colored gems, while the silken fabric shone in a velvety black. Gulping, the young girl carefully lifted the gift out of its box so that she could open the fan with equal care. On the dark background, forest green and blazing orange lines formed a carefully drawn stylized dragon, which was surrounded by its own brightly burning fire. In its sharp claws it clasped a white flower, protected from the flames that surrounded the majestic beast. The motif seemed almost bizarre to her. As if the monster would want to crush the fragile flower in its paws, while at the same time it almost seemed as if it wanted to guard it. Its sharp eyes flashed dangerously up at her and reminded her in a strange way of the man who had given her this gift. A shiver ran down (Y/N)'s spine, but she tried to pull herself together in front of her fiance. Never in her entire life had she seen anything so fierce looking on such a delicate object. Holding her breath for a short moment, (Y/N) gazed at the precious craftsmanship before looking up again to try to smile gratefully at the Shogun. "It is beautiful, your grace. Thank you!", she breathed truthfully. Bakugou nodded briefly in response before turning away from her. (Y/N) could hear the two men moving away from her as she looked back down at her engagement gift. Her fingers carefully traced the fine lines of the sublime dragon as she took a shaky breath, asking herself if her fiance associated her with the delicate flower just as she had associated him with the mythical creature which gloomily looked up to her.

.

.

.

"Knock, knock!", sounded the gentle voice of Lady Midoriya, who cautiously entered her daughters chambers some time after the shogun had left their estate. Startled, (Y/N) spun around from her position at her small table, but smiled sadly as she caught her mother heading towards her with a tea tray in her arms. Her young daughter had been sitting alone for what felt like an eternity, unable to fall asleep after that dreadful night. "I thought a soothing tea would be just the right thing right now.", she murmured in a put-upon cheerful tone as she carefully set down her favorite tea set.

"Thank you, mother!", murmured (Y/N) as she rose slightly from her kneeling position to reach for the warm pot in trained expert fashion, to pour her mother and herself a soothing cup of warm herbal tea. Silence enveloped them as they both let their gaze drift aimlessly around the room after (Y/N) had leaned back again. Sighing, the older lady ran her fingers through her green hair, untied from it's usually elegant knot, before finally turning to her daughter and smiling lovingly at her. Seeing her grown-up girl dejectedly trying to suppress the quivering of her lips, Lady Inko raised her hand to place it reassuringly on (Y/N)'s shoulder. "Don't worry, my little one! It'll be alright!", she whispered comfortingly as she patted her daughter's arm.

Hoping to take away some of her mother's worries, (Y/N) tried again to put on a small smile, but she failed miserably. Taking a deep shaky breath, the young girl tried to sort out her thoughts, before she dared to speak her mind: "What do you think about the Shogun?", she finally asked uncertainly, reaching for her cup of tea to occupy her fidgeting fingers. Rain pattered against the cool window, which was covered by velvet curtains to block out the darkness of the night. A few candles illuminated the comfortably furnished room in dim light, wrapping it in a soft blanket of warm shades. Humming silently to herself, Lady Inko lifted her gaze toward the ceiling as she pondered over her daughter's question.

"Well... The Shogun is an excellent match.", her mother replied after a moment. "Despite his reputation?", (Y/N) quietly probed further after taking a sip of the warm liquid. Lady Inko nodded after a moment's consideration before looking at her daughter again. "You know, your father and I are old acquaintances of Lord and Lady Bakugou. The young Shogun's father, worked side by side with your father in the Emperor's court. And Lady Bakugou is from the same province as me. I have known Mitsuki since childhood. We lost touch after she moved to the countryside with her husband, but I know that she is a good person just like her husband. They wouldn't be able to raise a cruel man. It's a pity that the two of them can't attend the ceremony, but by the time they would have arrived in the capital, you would have left long ago.", her mother began, smiling bittersweetly. Seeing that she had (Y/N)'s full attention, Lady Inko continued her descriptions with mild amusement:"Probably the shogun got his brusque trait from his mother. You should know that Mitsuki was incredibly fierce even back when we both were still unmarried. I remember that she never minced her words, no matter who was in front of her."

The youngest Midoriya's eyes widened in surprise as she looked at her mother in disbelief:"But it's not looked upon favorably when a woman simply speaks out what she thinks." Giggling, Lady Midoriya nodded in agreement. "You're right, but just because the noble society determines what's proper and what's not, doesn't mean there aren't people out there who think differently. Besides, not every man prefers a silent woman, you know? And hardly anyone shows his true face in public. I think there's more to the Shogun than the cold-blooded warrior everyone thinks he is, and I know you feel the same way."

Thoughtfully, (Y/N) let her mother's words sink in while she fixed her gaze on the liquid contents of her cup. On the moving surface, she could see a distorted vision of her own face, but instead of looking at it, she tried to imagine the man she and her mother were talking about.

In less than a week she would have to leave her entire life behind to follow Bakugou. The thought frightened her, no matter how much she tried to give herself courage throughout, but her mother was right. She truly believed that there was more to the Shogun than what met the eye. He was temperamental and aloof, and yet he had proven that he intended to protect her in spite of it all. He had told her in the gardens that he would not agree to marry a woman who let herself be trampled upon and had encouraged her to speak for herself.

But... Was it perhaps naive of her to interpret more into a person she only met twice?

[pretend-writer]

Kids Of The Future (Chapter 4)

Mini-Series

Summary: After time traveling from the apocalypse in 2019, a surprise waits for Diego and Y/N as they arrive at Dallas, Texas circa 1960.

Pairing: Hargreeves x sibling!reader, Diego Hargreeves x reader

Word Count: 2k words

Warning: mention of violence

✤  ·  ✤  ·  ✤  ·  ✤  ·  ✤

Licking my lips, I stared at The Handler with curious eyes. It scared me that this woman that I only knew through Five knew my name, and wanted to make some kind of deal with me.

Five told us stories about how shady this woman can be and knowing how smart our genius brother was, I trusted everything that he said.

Being very hesitant of hearing her out, I became cautious. ‘What do you want from me?’

‘Nothing really, well nothing that is yours.’ The Handler inhaled the smoke from the cigar, smirking at me as if she was plotting something against me. The look in her eyes already made me not trust her.

It probably had been about two minutes that we just looked into each other eyes; The Handler was watching me think, seemed as if she was trying to play mind games with me.

As she exhaled the smoke back out, she chuckled lightly. ‘What are you thinking something so deeply for? I’ll give you something in exchange of course.’

‘You should’ve led with that, honestly.’ I sighed, the stress somewhat was relieved from hearing that. ‘What are you giving me?’

‘The briefcase. I know you and your family are trying to go back to your timeline.’

I shook my head and started laughing, ‘You’re kidding me right? Surely someone evil like you wouldn’t pass me something that is as important as the briefcase. You’re bluffing.’

‘Evil? Is that what Five says about me? I’m a little hurt.’ The Handler rolled her eyes, ‘Trust me. What I want from you is as valuable as the stupid briefcase.’

‘If it’s stupid why don’t you just let us go back to our own time? You out of all people know we don’t belong here.’

‘Don’t you want to earn the briefcase?’

‘No. I prefer to have it for free especially because I don’t know what the hell you want from me.’

The Handler smiled at me, ‘I want her.’

‘Who? Allison and Vanya is coming home with us, are you crazy?’

‘I don’t want your siblings. Five was a pain in the ass, I can’t imagine having you guys at the commission. I want that kid of yours.’

My heart dropped immediately, I didn’t know whether to cry or get angry. ‘W-what do you want with Bel?’

‘You give her to me, I’ll give you the briefcase. I think it’s a win-win situation for you if you ask me. You don’t have to babysit someone’s kid anymore.’

‘What makes you think I’ll hand her to you so easily for a fucking briefcase?’

‘You have Five as a brother, I know you will. And like you said, you all don’t belong to this timeline.’

I loved Bel as if she was my daughter, we’ve spent time together for nearly three years. Diego and I basically raised her, she even called us mom and dad. Why was it that all of the sudden this woman wanted her? No one tried to take her back three years ago, she was my daughter and I would never let her go.

‘What do you want with her?!’ I screamed out loud, tears slowly falling down my eyes. I didn’t mean to yell at The Handler but I couldn’t help myself. I didn’t trust this woman one single bit and knowing that she was after Bel scared me.

The door to the salon opened, revealing Diego that had a worried look on his face. ‘Everything okay here?’

I turned the other way, hiding my face from Diego. The last thing I wanted was for him to see me cry and worry about this. ‘I’m fine, Diego.’

‘Who are you?’ Diego asked The Handler.

She replied with just a hum, ignoring his question. ‘Y/N, think about it.’

‘Fuck you.’

‘Whatever you say, Hargreeves. I’ll see you very soon.’ The Handler walked away into the darkness. Frankly, I never wanted to see her again.

‘Y/N, who is she?’ Diego asked me this time, placing his hand on my shoulder.

Quickly swiping it away, I turned the other way to the other side of the road. I needed time to think, time to understand why this woman that Five thought so disgustingly about would ever want anything to do with my baby.

Diego pov;

Y/N walked away from me, I could tell she was crying when I saw her cheeks were wet before she turned away from me.

I still didn't know who that woman was and it terrified me that she did or said something that made Y/N so upset.

'Can you talk to me please?' I tried a different approach, hoping that she would answer my question.

'It doesn't matter.' Her voice was shaky, staring at nothing into the dark alley.

'Something is upsetting you though, it matters to me.'

She turned around to face me, avoiding eye contact not that it mattered because the streetlight was so dim I barely saw anything.

'Come on baby, we're a team. Tell me what's wrong.' Y/N was an emotional drunk and this day determined that. She was never the type of person to express her feelings as much as she did tonight.

It made me imagine how much of it all she kept it inside; our brutal childhood with Reginald, the times when we called each other and told me she was fine. I always knew Y/N was strong but seeing how helpless she was, I wanted to save her.

Y/N rushed inside back to the salon, disappeared right in front of me in a blink of an eye. Following her, I saw the others questioning Y/N what she was doing. She didn’t respond to any of them, it was as if she couldn’t hear anything they were saying. Next thing I knew, she bolted right out the door and started to run.

All of us rushed outside and followed her, Luther calling out her name to get her attention. She continued to ignore us, continued to run away far from us.

'Diego, what did you say to her?' Allison asked as we all walked back into the salon.

'I didn't do shit! She was talking to some lady outside an-'

'What lady?!' Five jumped up his seats and screamed.

'Five, when did you get he-'

He got closer, screamed at a louder voice as he got into my face. 'I said, what lady was talking to her?'

'White hair, overly dressed with a hat on her head-'

'Was she smoking?'

I rolled my eyes.' Dude if you would have let me finish talking, you coul-'

'Diego, shut up and just answer the damn question!' I knew Five was an ass but him screaming in my face did not make me want to help him at all.

'Yes! She was, damn.'

'What did The Handler tell her?'

The Handler? She was the crazy lady Five told us about when he came back from the future, said that he had worked for her. ‘I-I don’t know. By the time I walked outside, they were done talking.’

Five groaned, rolling his eyes and crossed his arms. 'Great, now it's going to take us forever to find Y/N before we make a plan on how to get the damn briefcase.'

'Surely, she's coming back right?' Klaus said, 'Or we can think of where she might of went to.'

'You sure you don’t know where she’s off to? It seemed like she was rushing somewhere.' Luther turned to me.

'Nope. All I know is that that woman talked her and she got upset. I asked her what's wrong but she didn't tell me anything.'

'Or you made her upset when she stormed out the alley in the first place.' Allison crossed her arms.

I looked over at her, shaking my head. 'Why would you think I made her upset?'

Vanya bit her lip, 'You know we can hear your conversation right? You two were sitting right there.'

'Okay, fine. I said something so stupid, you guys happy now?'

'You're probably the dumbest person ever. You had the girl for three years and yet you two are still basically roommates.' Klaus laughed.

I stared at my brother as he chuckled to himself, not to mention others were lightly laughing as well. It wasn't my fault that I was scared to try to act on my feelings.

'Can we just try to find her, please? I'm actually worried.'

'We should probably split up and look for her.' Luther suggested.

'No, I think I know where she is. Maybe.' There was a place she would go whenever she was upset, I noticed at night sometimes she would sneak out. Y/N probably thought I didn't know but occasionally I'd follow her to make sure she was alright.

If she wasn’t looking for anything that The Handler told her, surely she’d be at her favorite spot. At least I hope she was.

'Well, I'll go. Tell me where it is.' Allison hopped in.

Five stood next to Allison, 'Same here. If The Handler talked to Y/N, I need to know what she told her.'

'Oh, how nice of you to worry about her.' Klaus commented.

'No, I'm going to go look for her. You can come with but-'

'Diego, no offense but we don't know exactly why she's upset. It'll be better if you didn't come.' Allison bit her lip, I knew she meant well but not being able to help Y/N made me upset.

y/n pov;

Angrily I threw rocks into the river, watching it go straight down into the water without skipping.

'Mama, you're terrible at skipping rocks.'

Looking over at Bel, I laughed. 'Yeah I know. I was never good at it.'

Bel took some of the rocks on the ground, trying to mimic me. Just a thought of losing her made my stomach turn, nothing will make me ever lose her.

'I'm sorry you're up this late at night, I really missed you and wanted to pick you up from Sarah's.'

'It's okay, I'm not tired!' Bel smiled, still trying to skip rocks.

'Y/N!' Allison called my name from behind, walking towards me in a fast pace. ‘Diego said you’d be here. Are you okay?’

My sister sat next to me, hugging me from the side. ‘You had us worried, you know? Something about The Handler?’

‘Yeah, Five wouldn’t shut up about it. Told him not to come with because I know he’d be drowning you with questions.’ Klaus joined in, having a seat next to Bel as he mumbled and played with her.

‘I’m sorry, I was just really angry and I had to leave.’

‘Was it Diego? He always have some shit to say.’ Klaus joked.

‘Uncle Klaus, that’s a bad word!’ Belinda gasped, covering her mouth.

His eyebrows rose, ‘Don’t tell your dad. He would kill me if he found out I swore in front of you.’

Allison and I giggled in unison, watching how great Klaus was with my daughter. ‘So where’s Diego?’

‘We didn’t know if you were upset about the lady or the stupid thing Diego said to you. So we told him not to come with.’

‘Yeah he was pis-’ Klaus looked at Bel as he paused. ‘I mean, he was really really angry.’

‘Good, that’s what he gets.’ I huffed, still upset about what he said earlier.

Allison nudged me, trying to get my attention as she muttered lightly. ‘So which one is it?’

I whispered back to her, hoping Bel doesn’t hear me. ‘She wants my baby, Allison.’

Her expression fell, immediately grabbing onto my hand. I knew that Allison felt sympathy for me as she had a daughter of her own. ‘Why? What does she want with her?’

‘I don’t know but no one is taking her away from me.’ It had hurt me to hear what The Handler had said to me but saying it out loud made me feel worse. The fact that I had to even say such thing made me sad and angry.

‘You have us, you and Diego aren’t alone anymore.’ Allison smiled, ‘We’re going to protect her and do whatever it takes. I promise you, Y/N.’

[anika-ann]

WINSoD - Pt.5

If One Should Fall...

Type: series, soulmate AU series  (part 1, part 2, part 3)  

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader  Word count: 3120

Summary: In which distribution of forces on the stones-retrieving mission changes. Because— reasons.The reason being a special visit someone pays you.

Warnings!: skip to post-Infinity War and the summary of it - you can imagine; deaths, violence....briefly tho, + language, mention of the inability to bear children, brief suicidal thoughts, kinda religious motives because SPN

A/N: Enormous time skip, because obviously CA:CW didn’t happen and the timeline is changed from canon already. Also, the title (What I’d Never Say or Do had I been in my right mind) is reeeeeally applicable in this one and somehow… it felt right to connect the chapters like this. Do not murder me…?

Part 4

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Forever was a funny word. A funny concept, perhaps. People always said they wished for some moments to last forever and what they meant was for them to last as long as possible, with no change in sight. Or they said that something unpleasant felt like it lasted forever, their souls craving an end of the misery, a fundamental change as the polar opposite to the first case.

You lived through both in the past years.

Sitting on your ass in a Wakandian palace, watching a battle unfold in front of you, an ensemble of great warriors fighting yet another army from space, that felt like forever, a never-ending nightmare and you only got to watch.

It set a pattern for you for several more years to come. To only watch.

You watched an alien creature steal the sceptre that the Avengers had decided to store in the palace and it did so while killing everything in its way. Princess Shuri had the great idea of hiding you and cuffing you so you wouldn’t stand in the creature’s path while she tried to stop it with the others. She ended up in shattered glass, only unconscious, as if thanks to a miracle.

You watched as… as she fell apart to ashes only minutes later; just like many, oh so many others.

Half of the population, they said.

Thanos, The Mad Titan, had wiped half of all living creatures.

The moment was carved into your brain forever. And the eternal time you waited for anyone to come back from the battle, to see Steve alive, because God, please, let him live – yes, that sure as hell felt like forever too.

Lives were lost. Bucky, Sam, Ryan, Wanda, Pietro, Peter, Shuri, T’Challa, Strange, Fury… the list went on and on. All of them, gone. Forever.

The world changed. Avengers  ow officially didn’t exist and yet recruited new members all over the freakin’ space, which was the only way of finding out Tony Stark, who had disappeared on a spaceship, in fact, survived.

The missions of the greatest defenders of Earth changed as well. Some members took off to start a family, lucky enough to still have a partner to do so. Or to have the ability to pass their genes.

You couldn’t. Or maybe Steve couldn’t, it didn’t matter. You never pried after the source of your inability to have children; you two were one, a unity. You didn’t want to know so you could point fingers. You could tell Steve blamed himself, as well as he knew that your irregular period was definitely not helping. You made your peace. In fact, you admired Tony for finding the courage to create an environment for a child in this mad world; your lack of faith in being able to do the same had the opportunity rose ironically helped you to come to terms with the fact of your body was not functioning right.

In a way, it only drew you and Steve closer. You had valued each other before, yes, but now… you truly were like one. You backed him up in how he decided to honour Sam’s memory by starting a support group and he was the one to sense that in a search for reassurance, strangely materialistic, you craved an official bond with him, despite never saying a word.

You were Steve’s wife now – and you were each other’s rock, even during the poor attempt at defeating Thanos again.

Five years was a long time, a forever, one might say, but when Scott Lang, one of the people believed to been dusted, reappeared, forever and never became relative again.

Which led you to now; what was left of the Earth’s mightiest heroes was planning on retrieving the infinity stones.

Because they figured out how to time-travel.

Observing your reflection in the mirror, the circles under your eyes, you couldn’t but run your hand down your face and sigh.

You were still struggling with accepting the incredible fact of the possibility of coming back in time, yet you had to shush the hope inside you. Hope was a dangerous thing; certainly on such big scale as everything could being as it had been, hope that all the people who had lost their lives during the Snap could be resurrected.

As for a person who in fact had died once, it was easier for you to believe it was possible and you weren’t sure that it was a good thing. The fear of losing what you still had – read Steve, mainly – in the process, was paralyzing. It would mean your end, one you might deliver by yourself if it came to it, because you weren’t as strong as your husband. You wouldn’t make it through. Not after everything that happened.

You sighed again and tried to shake off the darkest thoughts.

When your eyes fell on the reflection again, a man stood behind your shoulder.

You spun on your heels and jerked away, your bottom bumping into the sink with a startled yelp escaping your lips.

In a fraction of second, several ways of defending yourself flashed through you mind; but the man was already three feet away; in a blink of an eye, before you could even move further.

Chest heaving with frantic breaths, hand over your heart, you stared at the intruder dressed in a three-piece suit and a red cravat. Of average height and maybe few pounds over healthy weight, smoothly shaven so his smirk could stand out, he looked… peculiar, especially given the fact he had found himself in the ladies’ room.

It shouldn’t have surprised you he spoke up with some kind of an accent on top of everything, but it did.

“Saving the world is exhausting, isn’t it?”

You stared at him, speechless. Your brain kicked into an overdrive, analysing how much of a threat he was, if he was like Pietro, too fast for Friday to catch him, or what was he-

“Who the-“

“I’m Crowley, darling. And you don’t need look so scared. If I wanted you dead, you’d be already lying here in a puddle of blood,” he reassured you like a sleazy businessman, all pretence at kindness.

You winced at the visual and narrowed your eyes.

“Alright, Crowley, what do you want? And what exactly are you?” you demanded, uncertain why you felt calm despite the man appearing out of thin air and speaking of you dying in the bloodiest way. Were you truly so numb these days?

He smiled, as if he was old friend. “I am a friend of Moose and Squirrel-“ What. “-or Sam and Dean, as you know them. I have no doubt they mentioned me. After all, my mother is assisting them more than she would like. You met her, incidentally.”

It didn’t take a genius to figure it out – you hadn’t met many people during your time with the Winchesters. This man… was probably a warlock. A witch. Rowena apparently had a son.

Well. Shit.

“Okay. So… you’re a witch or something. Means I shouldn’t trust you fully. Noted. Now what do you want?”

His face twisted in a theatrical insulted grimace, his palm laid on his chest as if you just shot him through the heart – which, by the way, would probably do nothing to him.

“First of all, I am here to help, so I don’t think you have other option than trusting me. Second of all, I am not a witch, I am the King of Hell, thank you very much-“

Somewhere in the back of your mind, Sam Winchester’s voice whispered something about the King of Hell having been Dean’s bestie for a while, which did not make you feel any better, only more confused.

“And thirdly… I’m here to tell you what you, my darling, need to do for this mission to be successful.”

You stared at him incredulously, his casual stance and animated speech bewildering, and had no clue what to make of it.

Yet, you let him speak. You let him give you the advice no one ever wanted to receive. Ever. But this sleazy man had told you about how he had saved the world before, side by side with the Winchesters and everything suddenly made sense.

Crowley, the King of Hell, answered the most burning question you had been asking yourself ever since coming back from the death, doing so more and more often these days.

Why.

Why were you given the second chance at life? Why you of all people? What was the purpose?

And now you knew.

Rowena was the greatest witch the supernatural world had ever created and she supposedly looked through all the possible futures she could. Tony had once told you, drunk and hurting, that Strange had done the same right before the battle and he only saw one way of how it could end with Thanos’ loss. Now Crowley told you the ‘one’ future was still in play, that everything was actually still on the way to the world’s victory.

The price of victory was high. History had taught you that.

But the price people paid for losing was higher.

And as much as you hated what you apparently had to do…

“Okay,” you rasped, guilt already gnawing at your chest, tears strolling down your face, fear eating you up from the inside, fear of unknown and yet known, instincts fighting the urge to do the right thing and finally actually help to the heroes you found yourself among while still useless.

You were only watching too long. Forever, one might say.

“Okay?” he echoed, clearly surprised by your antics.

You only nodded, wiping away your tears and forcing your breathing to calm and steady. There was no way you could go back to the base of operating in the living room like this. You needed to be a fucking grown-up. Grown-ups had to be okay with not being okay. You must finally become worthy of being Captain Amer- Steve’s wife.

“Yes, Crowley. I’ll do it. Though I still have no idea why you came here to tell me. Aren’t you supposed to be the bad guy?” you teased him lightly, your mouth speaking its will without permission, the question only half-expecting an answer.

“Well, my darling. It’s the end of the world as we know it. It doesn’t matter now if you’re good or bad. Not if you want the world not to end.”

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

You were a terrible actress; a Razzies-nominee kind of actress. You couldn’t lie to save your life (the irony of such statement was not lost on you, yet it wasn’t properly appreciated either) and you were aware of the fact that Steve liked that about you. You could never lie to him. So you never tried.

You knew you couldn’t break that streak now, because he would see right through you. So you stooped lower than ever. Omitting the truth. Lying by not sharing the whole story. Whether you could make that work, only time would tell.

When you finally managed to compose yourself – at least more or less – and exited the bathroom, you found out that not much had changed. The team was still debating the details of best approach, uncertain but determined expressions on their faces.

Steve spared once glace at you and instantly was able to tell something was wrong. He hid you from the view of the others by his broad figure, concerned eyes scanning your face, observing and searching for any clue; for the source of your distress. As if the fact that they were – you all were, even if they didn’t know yet – about to time travel wasn’t enough to give one palpitations and serious stress-induced headache.

His tender fingers tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear as if it would help the mess your hairstyle must have been. A small encouraging smile graced his lips despite his own mind no doubt weighted down by numerous worries.

He didn’t have to ask for you to start talking, the brilliant colour of his eyes sweet and inviting enough.

“What if something goes wrong?” you questioned in a hushed whisper, not having to pretend to have such haunting thought. “What if… I don’t even want to think about what could it be. You’re going to need someone capable to pull you out. I am… I am not that capable. Definitely not when it comes to science of time-travel.”

Despite Steve acting like a human shield, your concerns were acknowledged by everyone, their heads snapping your direction. Steve, feeling all the curious eyes, cleared his throat and gently took your arm, leading you away from the prying ears.

“….excuse us for a second,” he hummed absently, waiting until he was out of earshot to speak with you again. “Doll… what- what is this really about?”

“What do you mean-“ you bluffed lamely in an instant, but the look Steve gave you shut you up.

“I know you, sweetheart. You can’t lie to me.”

If you weren’t dreading what you were about to do, you might throw a ‘watch me’ back at him. Instead, you aimed for an irritated tone – one that would be justified in case he would truly be questioning the claim you were about to point out.

“So you think I’m not afraid for you?”

A frown crossed over his face, his palm on your bicep tightening before he eased his hold to brush his thumb over the very same spot. “No! That’s not- I just know there’s something more. What is it?”

Gulping and averting his gaze, because the intense burn of genuine concern was unbearable, your mind raced with the effort to find the right words.

Your stomach was tied in tight knots, turning at the idea of playing Steve, more so for such nefarious purpose. But how else you could have convinced him that it couldn’t in fact be him and Natasha going to Vormir to retrieve the soul stone?

“I… I want to help. I need to help, Steve. You’re— you're so strong, always the hero and I’m not even close, I-“

“-need to prove my worth?” he finished easily, a knowing look in his eyes, and fuck him, how did he know—

He might not understand fully, he had no way of knowing what Crowley told you to do, but still, Steve was still able to recognize what fuelled your determination, what were your motives.

You opened your mouth uselessly, a shaky exhale brushing Steve’s face as he lowered his head to you, his eyes wide and genuinely troubled. God, you couldn’t bare the intensity of his gaze.

“Christ, doll. Where’s this coming from? Don’t be rid-“ From the corner of your eye, you saw him lick his lips as he swiftly cut himself off before calling you ridiculous. His large warm palms framed your face, forcing you to lock your gaze with his, passionate words accented by the burning fire of his irises. “You don’t need to prove anything to anyone. Not to them, certainly not to me. You are my everything and you are the most amazing person I have ever met-“

You closed your eyes, a soft smile tugging at your lips despite your better judgement. You never doubted Steve’s feelings, yet he was always quick to reassure you, having the patience of a saint whenever he noticed a hint of insecurity.

“I know. I swear I know that, I know how you feel, but- let me do this. What if… what if you don’t come back? What if you don’t come back and I’d be just sitting here, knowing I could have done something, but I didn’t. You’re too familiar with that feeling, Steve. Please. Let me come with you,” you pleaded in a hushed voice, hating you reminded him of losing you, but knowing it might be effective. “You know you can protect me when it comes to it.”

Brows drawn together, Steve observed you, baffled and yet understanding at the same time, torn between the instinct to have you protected at the compound and the responsibility he felt towards this mission. This was the fight of your lives; deep down, he must have known he couldn’t afford to jeopardize that even if it came to you. Which, naturally, didn’t mean he had to like it.

A clearing of one’s throat that sounded a bit like a clap of thunder interrupted your staring contest and you both glanced towards Bruce’s huge green form in the doorway, sheepish expression comical on his massive face.

“…sorry to interrupt, but… we kinda all think she has a point so-“

Steve’s sucked in air between his teeth, letting his hands drop from you face, only for one of them to run through his hair, the other balling in a fist.

You shrugged, the battle of emotions – victory and defeat at the same time, because God, why – no doubt visible on your face as Steve turned his attention solely to you once more.

“I’ll give you guys another sec…” Bruce hummed, backing out of the door, leaving you to deal with clearly irritated and reluctant Steve.

Thanks, buddy.

Wordlessly, Steve’s fingers slipped beneath your jaw, pulling you in for one of the strangest kisses of your life. H poured all his emotions into one simple gesture, hungry and intense, intimate wet sound of a dirty encounter of mouths echoing in the otherwise silent room. You allowed yourself to get lost in the sensation of Steve’s lips on yours, in his arm grabbing you and pressing flush against his hard chest; it was all too harsh for anyone to believe it was not a display of affection of a half-desperate man.

Breathless and with vertigo nearly overcoming you, you rested your forehead against Steve’s, mirroring his action once you parted. His eyes were closed shut, as if too heavy to kept open, but you could see that something in his expression shifted; you and Bruce won.

Peripherally, you noticed Crowley’s faint figure, the shortest of appearances as he nodded in approval and goodbye. You suspected he did something so Steve gave in; you didn’t care what and how, hoping it didn’t harm your soulmate.

Tears stung in your eyes when you realized what was to come and you forced them to be kept at bay, shutting your eyes close again.

“Fine, have it your way,” Steve rasped, his voice clearly irked, yet resigned. “But if you get one scratch on you, doll, just one, I’ll hold you responsible.”

No, you won’t.

You charmed a guilty smile, a lame tiny thing, and he inhaled sharply, only for huffing the air out.

“How could I, having my chivalrous man by my side?”

It earned you a kiss on your forehead, Steve’s fingers interlacing with yours when you made your way back to the other room where everyone waited.

Oh, how much it now hurt, the amount of faith Steve could put into you, charmed by your teary smile, that little thing puling on his heartstrings.

Oh, just how much it would hurt…

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Part 6

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This chapter might seem a bit strange, but hopefully it fits the atmosphere of Infinity War and Endgame…

Thanks for being here. I love you for your encouragement :-*

P.S. Here, have the last part of a SPN guide - visuals and references for Amara (God’s sister who gave back ‘reader’s’ memories) and Crowley (from this chapter).

[forevercaroline]

French court chapter 2

For @klaroline-4ever who loves Lexi and Henri. @dumb-bitchculture who is my reign bestie. And @austennerdita2533 who loves Lexi and forbidden love.

Xxx

Claude pulls Lexi up on to an empty table and they start dancing. There has to be about five hundred people in the ball room. Tonight’s party doesn’t have a theme just have fun and make noise. Everyone is invited except Charles.

Henri was talking with some of the party guests when he spots his sister pull his fiancé up on to a table and they start dancing together drawing the eyes of the guys near the table. He makes his way over and looks up at them. “May I have a dance with the most beautiful woman in France.”

Lexi blushes as she looks down at him they share a smile as she counters. “I don’t know I’m waiting for the sexiest guy in France to ask me to dance.”

She winks at him, Claude jumps off the table as her brother climbs up on the table. He cups both sides of Lexi’s face so gently as he passionately kisses her.

Lexi’s arms go around his neck as his go around her waist, as they sway to the music on top of the table he tells her. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you. You look very handsome yourself.”

Both blondes are dressed in party clothes, Lexi is in a short black dress with white heels on while Henri is in black jeans and a white tee shirt.

Xxx

Charles is walking down one of the corridors of the castle when he spots his fiancé Nicole leaning against the entrance to the ballroom. “Nicole, what’s wrong?”

He joins her and sees the party going on and his brother and Lexi dancing on a table. “Fifth one this week my love.” Nicole puts a hand on Charles chest to stop him from making a scene like he did with the first two parties, the third one a member of the privy council broke up and the forth party he had the guards break up. “What are you going to do?”

“Go have fun Nicole, this is going to be the last party my brother is throwing.” He kisses her on the forehead and grabs a drink off a passing server. He whispers in her ear and she nods.

Xxx

Everyone is dancing when the music stops dramatically everyone looks around to find that the speakers are soaked and the laptop that was playing the music also had a drink spilled on it.

While Claude ushers everyone out Henri and Lexi see if they can salvage the laptop or speakers they can’t they are ruined. “Charles?”

“I never saw Charles, I thought I saw Nicole though.”

“He’s getting Nicole to do his dirty work.” Henri can’t believe the stops his brother will go to. Using Nicole to do Charles dirty work because the king can’t be seen breaking up a third party. If the roles were reversed Henri would never use Lexi to break up Charles party.

Lexi tired from the party and being on edge living in the palace. She knows Charles does not want her here or engaged to his brother. She also knows Nicole likes Henri. Neither of them know to what extent Nicole’s likeness of Henri goes, is it she wants both brothers, is it she is not happy with Charles and she envies Lexi and Henri’s relationship nobody knows.

“Let’s go to sleep.” She holds a hand out and he takes it but also lifts her up bridal style she giggles as she puts her arms around his neck and lays her head on his shoulder.

As they are walking towards their chambers he asks her. “Big wedding or small wedding?”

“I thought we weren’t supposed to plan our wedding?”

He pecks her on the nose. “We are not but if we plan everything in secret and when Charles finally allows us to marry if we have everything ready we’ll marry that day or the next before he can change his mind again.”

“ I don’t want a small wedding like your brother Bash, Catherine mentioned it the other day and it sounded just awful.”

“Charles and myself were young when it happened we were already asleep, the only people in attendance was our older brother Francis his wife and our mother. Charles and I heard about it the next day there were whispers and not just about the the marriage. Trust me our wedding will be different.”

Henri’s step brother’s wedding to his wife was not a happy day for either of them. It was an impromptu wedding in the throne room with Henri’s father king Henry threatening both the bride and groom that if they didn’t marry he would kill them. The bride was in tears scared yelling at the king to stop. The groom was scared but was trying to remain calm and tried to relax his bride. Since they didn’t really know each other when they wed after the wedding they got to know each other and fell in love. They are still together almost seventeen years later.

Xxx

Lexi reaches down with one hand while Henri is holding her to open the door to their room. He only puts her down once they get to the bed. “Carrying me over the threshold that might of been the only time you can to do that.”

He turns around from taking his shoes off to slide a finger under her chin and lifts her chin to look at him. “I will carry you over the threshold as my wife one day.” He leans down and pecks her on the lips.

Xxx

Henri and Lexi are asleep when their bedroom doors are opened. They are cuddling in their sleep. They are on her side of the bed, Henri has an arm over her their hands are entwined, her back is right against his bare chest. You can see the love Henri and Lexi have for each other. Not only in their sleep but also from a simple touch if they walk past each other to Henri putting his hand out so Lexi can come sit on his lap and lean her head on his shoulder or Lexi holding out a hand. They are constantly glancing at each other lovingly or leaving little kisses on each other’s neck or cheek. Before they moved into together they would spend almost every minute together anyway it was like they were living together already. With them it’s like two souls have found each other.

“Get rid of everything that Is not my brothers.”

Xxx

Lexi wakes up and Henri is not in bed beside her instead he is looking at himself in the mirror. “Should I wear feather earrings I think they would look marvelous on you.”

He turns back to the bed still wearing her silver hoop earrings. “This doesn’t bother you.”

She goes over to their mirror the sheet wrapped around her naked body. She leans up and cups his cheek he leans into her touch her earring touching the side of her hand. “How many times have I told you I find you in earrings cute and I know if it was not taboo by society you would rock an earring.”

He kisses her palm and takes out her earrings. They climb back in bed he is sitting up against the headboard while she is laying her head against his chest. “What about your sister the one in Spain would she let us get married?”

“Leeza the queen of Spain as she likes to remind everyone no she wouldn’t let us marry. She actually might be worse then Charles in this instance. For a number of reasons one I am my mother’s favorite child and when Leeza was growing up Catherine was not the best mother. What with my fathers many affairs, Catherine not only raising my oldest brother Francis who was the future king, political schemes. From what Claude has told us about her childhood Leeza was boring and quiet. Charles and I were young but still here for her wedding to the king of Spain. She resents this family for how she was treated. Also she thinks marriage should be of status and if she found out that her siblings were as she would call it marrying under their station she would forces us to separate.”

“She would even force Charles and Nicole to separate?”

Henri nods. “Absolutely in her mind a king should marry a princess not a farmers daughter. Claude would marry a lord and I would have to marry either a princess or a lady.”

She kisses his chest. “That’s awful I’m glad we only have to deal with Charles.”

Xxx

There is a knock on the door and a messenger comes in. “Your wanted in the throne room.”

Once he leaves as Henri is getting out of bed Lexi looks around for her red robe its not on the chair where she left it yesterday. “Have you seen my robe?”

“No.”

Henri goes into their closet first as Lexi is coming around the bed in the bed sheet he quickly turns around and faces her. “Do not go in there. There seems to be a problem.”

They get back to the throne room and everyone has gathered. Catherine Lexi and Henri, Claude and Leith. Charles is sitting on the throne with Nicole sitting on the arm looking at Henri seductively, even the lord chancellor Stephan Narcisse is here. “Nicole and I have set a wedding date the end of the summer.”

Henri leans down and whispers to Lexi. “Of course he won’t let us wed but he is going forward with his own.”

“And his fiancé has not taken her eyes off you.”

Before they leave Charles has one more announcement. “Henri your lady friend is not invited to my wedding nor is she welcome in this palace anymore. Guards, Guards please escort this young women from the grounds.”

Two of the guards grab Lexi’s bare forearms and try to take her away from Henri. Both blondes are fighting to stay together and still holding hands. Claude yells to Charles.”Charles stop it!”

His head sharply turns towards his sister. “How about another arranged marriage?”

She gasps as she glares at him how dare he use that threat on her again. “You said after the last one I get to choose my husband this time.”

Lexi’s hand slips out of Henri’s grip and she is dragged away. Both Catherine and Narcisse do not know what to do. If Catherine sides with Charles then she is letting Henri down and if she tells Charles to stop this and to let Henri marry she could be called for treason and she could face trial and possible death. Narcisse is thinking about the good of the country he doesn’t care about who the family falls in love with.

Xxx

When she is thrown out of the palace she finds all her belongings waiting for her. Henri runs out to join her. “I don’t have a place to live I don’t have an apartment anymore. I’m going to have to move back in with my parents.”

He wraps his arms around her and she cries into his chest her arms around his waist. He rubs her back. “Claude is calling a hotel right now and setting up a suite for you. We will get you back in the palace soon. He can’t stop me from moving into the hotel with you.”

She looks up at him through tear soaked eyes tears still coming down her face, she doesn’t have any makeup on they took that too. “You still want to live with me?”

“Of course I do these last few weeks have been amazing having you here all the time instead of only at nights and you slipping out in the middle of the night or early morning in the previous nights clothes.”

“And here I thought you only liked wearing my earrings.” She winks up at him.

He smirks down at her and pecks her on the lips. “The earrings are only a bonus.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” He wipes the tears off her face.

[noladyme]

The Frog Princess. Chapter 1

1

“You can all bloody kiss my ass!”, I growled at the men standing around me. “There isn’t a chance in Hel I’m getting on that ship!”.

“Breathe, Y/N”, Eist tried calmingly. “This is what’s best for everyone”. “Best for you and your bloody war!”, I snarled.

In the corner of the great hall stood a mess of cases, containing most of my earthly goods. None of it had any importance to me; except for the small chest of knickknacks I’d gathered while on trips around the smaller islands of Skellige, and the one time Eist had brought me to Cintra Capital with him.

“Y/N, you’re not a child. Stop acting like one”. I smacked him across the face. A murmur of stifled laughter rose among the leather clad men surrounding me and Eist.

King Eist Tuirseach. The great leader of our lands; and my pain in the ass older cousin; who was getting ready to ship me of to a place far away – that I had no intention of going to.

“What you’re really trying to say, is that I’ve gotten too old to marry of to someone worth while; so now you’re using me as payoff to a sweaty sister-fucker!”. I picked up a goblet, and threw it at the wall; mead dripping down from where I’d hit. “You don’t know that he’s sweaty”, Eist smiled.

“Eist…”, I said, trying for sweetness. He looked at me pointedly. “When we are in public, you’ll address me as is fit my title”.

“My liege”, I sneered. “Great majestic cousin, and king of these isles. I am merely trying to explain to you, that if you intend to proceed with this plan of shipping me off to Temeria; there is a great chance that I might burn this whole fucking castle to the ground, and piss on the ashes!”.

I heard a gruff chuckle from a dark alcove connected to the hall.

Eist sighed. “Well, we’ll just have to keep you away from fire until you’ve boarded the ship”.

Rage boiling inside me, I stomped my foot into the ground, and screamed.

Eist closed his eyes and raised his eyebrows; shaking his head. “You can scream all you want, my dear. This is happening”, he said calmly. “No!”, I yelled. “Yes”, he answered. “You are going to Temeria. You are marrying Foltest. You’ll bear him whatever children he wishes to produce. And you’ll do it all with a smile”.

A stranger stepped into the light from the alcove. He was tall, and built like a boulder – muscled and strong. His eyes shone a strange shade of amber, and his hair was grey- verging on white.

“Why does he even want me? I have no real title…”, I said. “You’re my cousin. That is title enough”, Eist interrupted. He sat down at the head of the table, pouring himself a new goblet of mead. Apparently the one I had thrown was his. “Foltest needs a queen. You are a highborn woman; with a dowry that goes with it”.  He took a sip from the goblet. “You also happen to be a bloody pain in the ass; with the reputation that goes with that as well. You are lucky Foltest has agreed to this union. You weren’t exactly an easy sell”.

I laughed out loud, and sat at the table, a few seats from him; worried that I might stab him with a fork if I got too close. “There it is. A sell. I’m a commodity to be traded with”.

“You will do as you’re told, woman!”, Eist said, patience clearly running thin. I wasn’t having it.

“Would you say that to Calanthe?”.

Eist slammed both his fists into the table. “Enough!”, he roared. I froze in place. He breathed deeply, collecting himself. “Y/N; you are my favorite cousin. A fact that has unfortunately let you to run wild and do as you’ve wished for much too long. I cannot allow that to continue anymore”. His pained but resolute eyes met mine. “I know you won’t believe this, but I am doing this for your sake as well. You can no longer call Skellige your home”.

“You’re right”, I said, swallowing tears. “I don’t believe you”.

He looked down, clenched his fists, and sighed. “We’ll speak later. I have to finish planning your travel arrangements”, he said; and stood up, walking in the direction of the whitehaired stranger; who’d been watching our exchange with a smirk on his face.

“Geralt, I wish to discuss something with you”, Eist said, before turning to his men. “Take her to her room. Make sure there are no ropes for climbing out the window; cut up her sheets if you must”. He and the man walked towards the door leading to his private chancery.

“And hide the matches”.

---

I stood in front of a mirror in my now barren room. Thrude – my nanny turned hand matron, and dear friend – was desperately trying to cheer me up.

“Chin up. You’ll be a queen, m’lady”, she said smilingly. “I’ll be a puppet”, I answered. She raised a sponge to cover my face in powder. “Don’t”, I said. “Let them see that I’ve been crying”. She sighed. “At least brush your hair”. She handed me the hairbrush; and went to get my dress for the feast.

It was a ridiculous thing; nothing near what I would have chosen for myself. Black velvet with puffed sleeves, white laced trim; and a white lily on the front of the skirt. They’re dressing me up as the Temerian fucking flag, I thought.

I brushed my hair; and allowed Thrude’s old hands to run through it, braiding it into and intricate crown on the top of my head. When she was finished, I grabbed her hand, and put it to my cheek. “Tootie”. She smiled at my use of the nickname I’d given her as a child. “I could go with you! I could live with you in your cabin. You could continue to train me as a vöelve!”.

“I never trained you to become any such thing”, Thrude said indignantly. I smirked at her. “Teaching me about herbs, healing and monsters? That’s a proper lady’s education?”. “You’d do best to forget those things where you are going”, she said. She put her hands on either side of my face; and looked at me kindly but sternly.

“Listen to me, girl”. I hadn’t been a girl for quite a few years; but her age and the respect I held for her made me accept her choice of words. “Skellige is not the place for you anymore. You are off to a better future than you could ever have here... or anywhere else”.

I snorted in a quite undignified way. “A future as the wife of someone who is only taking me, for the money my cousin will pay him to do so… as a stepmother of a girl conceived through incest; and whose age I am closer to, than I am her fathers!”. I swallowed bile. “I’m going to be sick”. I put my head between my knees; my nose touching the velvet of the dress. She patted my head comfortingly.

“You must leave this place behind”, she said. “Become what is expected of you”. “Instead of…?”. I looked up at her.

She looked down and shook her head. “That’s for another time”. She shuffled her old body in the direction of my bed – the bare mattress reminding me of my cousins’ heartless elimination of my escape plan.

“But there won’t be another time”. I stood up. “I leave tomorrow”.

“Then cherish tonight”, she said.

From under the bed, she pulled out a small pouch; and handed it to me. “My own mother gave me this on my wedding night”, she said; tears in her eyes. “I was saving it for you; for when you’d finally stop being a little imp, and settle down with a good man”. She shook her head. “At least he’s a king…”. I chuckled through my tears, and took the pouch in my hands, opening it. Inside was a silver chain, adorned with an appendage shaped as a small frog.

“Ma’ told me that sometimes you get a frog; but shower it with enough kisses, and it might turn in to a prince”. She helped me put it on. “In your case; I believe it’s the other way around. You are stubborn, you act before you think, and you jump around too much”. She kissed my forehead. “But you can be something more”.

She took both my hands into hers and squeezed them gently. “You can be a queen. And one to be reckoned with!”.

I sniffled. “All I have to do is let a man I don’t know and don’t want, kiss me… and touch me… and…”. I heaved. “I really think I’m going to throw up!”.

She chortled. “He managed to bed his own sister. He must have some charms”. She winked at me. “Might even have a good enough cock to go with them”.

“Tootie!”, I cried out.

“Oh, calm yourself, girl! You know your way around a mands body. We both know that”. She wasn’t wrong, but I wouldn’t give her the pleasure of an answer. In stead I rolled my eyes at her.

“There we are, dearie. Now I recognize you”, she smiled. “Remember, it is not unheard of, for queens to take lovers other than their husbands. You might not even have to bed him that often”.

I sighed. “What am I going to do without you?”.

She patted my cheek. “You are going to grow up”.

---

The great hall was filled with laughter and dancing.

A bard from the continent was playing his lute; surrounded by red-cheeked girls, all vying for his attention. He seemed to me to be an absolute windbag; but I could understand the effect he had on them; blue eyed and brightly smiling.

As I stepped into the room; the music stopped, and the crowd turned to look at me. A roar of cheers and well wishes from all sides; and my strongest impulse was to turn around, and run back up the stairs. Thrude took a firm hold of my hand, and pushed me forward. “Go on, girl. This is your night”.

The bard began his music again, leading the room into a singalong of a gay tune; about a selkie and her lover. Dancing continued, and drinks were flowing. This was a joyous event – and I wanted nothing more than to crawl under a rock; and die.

We were stopped in our tracks by a tall man, I had not met before. “Lady Y/N”, he said haughtily. “Let me congratulate you on this glorious occasion of your engagement and upcoming marriage. I must admit that my master had hoped a different arrangement could have been made. But, alas, here we are”. “I’m sorry”, I said, caught off guard. “Who is your master?”.

“My apologies, my lady”, the man bowed. “I am a representative of Nilfgaard; Gaunter O’Dimm. Loyal servant of the true emperor of the fore mentioned lands”. “Usurper”, Thrude said, and spat at the floor. She pulled at my hand.

“I am sorry, sir, but I must take my leave. I must see my cousin”, I smiled, voice shaking. “Of course, my lady. I wish you good health”, O’Dimm said, and stepped aside for us to pass.

“Who was he?”, I asked Thrude. “No one good”, she answered quietly.

I sat down at the head table, watching the festivities; completely numb. The small silver frog rested between my breasts, cold against my skin.

“You look beautiful”; Eist said from next to me. “I look like a pig for market”, I answered, pulling at the uncomfortable corset Thrude had squeezed me in to. “Well; a lovely pig none the less”, he said.

I spent most of the night staring into space; not touching any of the food placed in front of me. The mead and schnapps on the other hand; I had my fair share of.

“You must eat”, Eist grumbled. “Not fat enough for slaughter yet?”, I sneered. “You’re not being slaughtered. You’re getting married”, he answered. “What’s the difference?”, I mumbled.

A fight broke out in front of the table. Well; not so much a fight as a beating. A drunk distant cousin of Crach an Craite’s new wife, had apparently taken a disliking to the bard reciting a sonnet to his fiancée; and was now dragging him by the nose to the floor in front of us.

“Witcher!”, the drunkard growled. “Control your pet!”.

The whitehaired stranger was leaning against a pillar; staring into a mug of ale. “He’s not my pet”, he muttered with a gruff voice. It sounded like it came from somewhere deep within his chest.

“Well, I don’t know how you do it on the continent”, the drunkard said, “but here in Skellige, if a mutt is acting wild; we cut of his balls!”.

The bard looked terrified. “Geralt!”, he pleaded. “Do something!”. The angry man pulled out his dagger and started waving it in front of him; swaying from side to side – obviously having trouble focusing through his drunken haze.

“Ger… Geralt!”, the bard shrieked. I couldn’t help but chuckle at the scene.

Eist looked at me. “Rognir! You’ve made the lady smile! Thank you!”, he laughed. “Now let the poor lad go”.

The man burped. “Bugger that”, he said, and stepped forward, dagger raised.

A hand grabbed his wrist, and pulled it behind his back. The stranger was holding the drunkard in an armlock. “That’s enough”, he said. “Leave the bard, drink some water; and go remind your woman why she chose you in the first place”.

The bard ran to safety behind a group of girls; who all began to fuss over him.

The stranger let go of Rognir; who shuffled away into a dark corner; where a plump girl was waiting for him.

“Wolf”, Eist said. “Join us”.

He sat down on the opposite side of the table from us; accepting a new mug of ale from a servant.

“Y/N; this is Geralt of Rivia”, Eist said. My eyes met the strangers; who looked like he’d rather be anywhere but here. “Geralt, let me formally introduce you to my cousin; Y/N. The future queen of Temeria”.

“Princess”, the man nodded at me. “I’m not a princess”, I answered, and drained my fourth serving of mead that evening.

“She’s right”, Eist said, and took away my goblet. “Princesses don’t usually drink like sailors”. The stranger chuckled. “Y/N; Geralt is a witcher”, Eist continued. “I have asked him to accompany you on your journey to your new home”. The witcher looked at me again, his eyes narrowed.

“Him?”, I asked. “What happened to me being a future queen? Don’t I get a dozen soldiers on white horses?”, I snorted, and grabbed my glass of schnapps to replace the mead.

“No, you don’t. Mostly because I know you’d either annoy them until they leave you on the side of the road; or try to seduce some of them into letting you run away”, Eist said. I rolled my eyes. “Don’t give me that, Y/N; I’m not stupid. Poor Eyrick’s heart is still broken after your tryst last spring”.

Eyrick – firm, handsome… dumb as rocks. I’d made it clear I was in it for one thing. He’d taken that as a sign that I was playing hard to get; and sold his only goat to buy an engagement ring.

“Did he ever get his goat back?”, I smirked. “I bought him two new ones”, Eist answered. “The other one had already been made into dinner”.

I laughed heartily. “Poor Eyrick”. “Poor goat”, the witcher said. I caught his gaze. Had the situation been different, I might have flirted with him; handsome as he was… in his own rugged, I-don’t-give-a-fuck-what-I’m-wearing-as-long-as-it’s-clean way. I corrected myself as I saw a black stain on his sleeve. “Nekker”, he said, studying my expression. I held his gaze for as long as I dared, and returned to my glass.

A sudden rush of blood to my head reminded me that Eist had probably been right about me eating. I was well and drunk.

“So”, I said, “Eist has asked you, but you’ve not accepted? Coin not good enough?”. “I don’t make it a habit to meddle in politics”, he rumbled, and took a sip from his mug.

“See, cousin?”, I smirked. “Even the witcher knows a livestock trade when he sees one”. “Not the time, Y/N”, Eist muttered, and put a chunk of bread on my plate. I took a resentful bite of it.

“Geralt”, Eist said. “I am not asking you to take a side in the war. I am asking you, as a friend, to keep my cousin safe until she is in the arms of her new husband. Nilfgaard has been making moves north of their boarders, and I worry she will be in danger from kidnapping on her journey”. The witcher sighed. Eist leaned forward, lowering his voice. “You are many things, wolf, but you are not heartless. You’ve already shown me this once. You know what might happen, if they get to her before she reaches her destination”.

“And what is that?”, I interrupted. Eist sat back. “You won’t have to worry about that, if the witcher agrees to my proposition”. He smiled solemnly; before looking back at the witcher. “I will pay what you ask”.

They were both quiet for a long minute. Something unspoken passed between them, before finally the witcher grunted; and nodded. He took another sip of his ale.

“How is the child?”, he asked. “Last I heard, still growing in its mothers’ belly”, Eist answered. “She’s well, and will – along with the child – have the best care both during and after the birth. You know I would not lie about this”. The witcher nodded again.

“So, you will do it?”, Eist asked. “I will. On my terms”.

“Of course”, Eist answered, seeming relieved. “Anything. I have the ship ready for tomorrow afternoon, and will send any men with you that you might need. The lady’s belongings have already been packed, and horses will be waiting for you in Cintra Capital once you make land. Nilfgaard will be relentless in their search for her. They want nothing more right now, than to stop this wedding”.

“No”, the whitehaired man said. “We leave tonight. She packs light; and we take a fisherman’s ship to Attre; travelling on from there. Just her and myself”. A giggle was heard from behind a pillar; where the bard was charming one of the maidens from his fan-club. “And him. If he stays here longer, I’m afraid he’ll become a gelding in no time”, he said, glancing at a stout and angry looking old man; who was probably the girl’s father. Eist nodded.

My head was beginning to clear, as I was realizing what was happening. “You’re sending me with him? On a fisherman’s boat across the ocean; to then traipse across the continent in nothing but my plain dress and boots?”. “You can bring your sgian-dubh”, the witcher chuckled gruffly. I was surprised he knew the word for my hidden knife.

“I don’t have one”, I said, and looked at him defiantly. “Yes you do; you’ve strapped it to your leg”, he said in a bored voice. Eist bit his lip to stop from laughing at my affronted face. “Calm yourself, girl. I haven’t been looking up your skirts. The velvet in your dress gave away the shape of the knife against your thigh”.

I scoffed at him. “Well, you were looking at something, since you noticed my thigh”, I said. “You’d be better of slipping it into your boot. Makes it easier to reach when needed”, he smirked.

I did not like this man. 

“Eist…” I began. “It’s done”, Eist answered. “I’m begging you…”, I pleaded, “in the name of the love I know you have for me – please. Don’t make me do this. I can fight. Make me a shield maiden!”. “That would require that you actually were a maiden, dear heart”, he said. “Y/N, I do love you. That is why I am doing this”.

My heart dropped, and tears began to well up in my eyes, as I desperately tried to control my panicked breath.

“Wolf; I’ll send the ship to Cintra tomorrow afternoon, as planned, packed with men and the lady’s luggage. They will travel to Temeria; pretending to be transporting her – but the carriage will be empty”. “That will give us some extra days before they come looking for us”, the witcher answered. He turned to look at me.

“Princess, finish your meal calmly, then make your way to the courtyard. Pretend to be going to relieve yourself. I will meet you there”. I was breathing heavily. “No…”, I whimpered. “Not yet. Let me have tonight. Let me sleep in my own bed. I want to say goodbye”.

Eist was pretending to smile, his eyes miserable. “This is goodbye, Y/N”, he said, and took my hand to kiss. “I wish I could have made things different for you, child. You have my heart and my brotherly love; always”. He stroked my cheek.

“Now go!”. He turned away from me.

From behind me, Thrude put her hand on my shoulder, gesturing for me to follow. Not breathing, I grabbed it, and we walked briskly towards the door nearest our table.

---

We hurried down some stairs. Going in to the courtyard, I halted; making Thrude turn to look at me. “Come along, dearie. We must haste”. “Tootie… will I ever see you again?”. She looked down. “I hope so, child”. She kissed my cheek.

“Princess!”, someone hissed from the shadows. The whitehaired witcher stepped into the moonlight. “Follow me”. He walked towards the stables. Thrude let go of my hand, and patted my back to follow him. “Go on!”, she whispered.

I walked into the stable, where the witcher and the bard were waiting. “My lady!”, the young man said, and bowed in reverence. “It has been a great honor to perform at this extraordinary event, but unfortunately my friend here insists that we must leave”. He grabbed my hand and kissed it, beaming at me.

“She’s coming with us”, the witcher said; readying his horse – a beautiful red mare.

The bard looked from me to his friend. “She’s… the package?”, he asked in disbelief. “Yes”, the other man answered. “Geralt… are you sure this is a good idea?”; the bard said below his breath. “No”, the witcher grumbled, and looked at me indifferently. “Change”, he said, and threw a satchel on the ground in front of me. I was getting tired of being bossed around. “Why?”, I asked. “Because I said so”. “Go to Hel”, I said. The bard gasped at my words. “Bad-mannered words for a lady!”, he proclaimed. “Go fuck yourself, milksop”, I sneered.

“Geralt!”, the bard cried out. “Shut up, Jaskier. Do you want the whole castle to know what we’re doing?”, the witcher said; and walked towards me, picking up the satchel.

“Put on the clothes in the bag. I’m not asking you again”. I smirked at him defiantly.

He grabbed my arm, and looked at me; dormant rage in his eyes. His hold on me was strong, but not painful. “I will strip you down myself if needed”, he said.

I ripped the satchel from his hands, and went behind a wall to change. Inside the bag was a simple white chemise; and a blue, sleeveless peasant dress, which could lace up in the front, making me able to put it on myself. I reluctantly removed my sgian-dubh from my thigh, and slipped it into my boot.

From behind the wall I hear muffled talking.

“Geralt, this is madness. You can’t drag the future queen of Temeria across the continent on horseback”, the bard – Jaskier – said. “She needs pomp and… spectacle and ceremony; and everything else that goes with the title. Not to mention that she is rude; and will probably get in the way when we are fighting monsters!”. “You don’t fight Jaskier. You moan and whine, and run away at any sign of danger”, the witcher answered. “That’s not the point, Geralt… Geralt… Look at me when I’m talking to you!”. “What are you; my wife?”. “Gods forbid. I’m quite sure I’d be able to make a better match!”. “Well, if you come all the way to Temeria with us, maybe Foltest will choose you in stead of the princess. He does have strange tastes”.

“I’m not a princess!”, I thundered, and stomped out to face them.

The witcher looked at me, clearly about to roar for me to shut up. At the same moment, Thrude stepped in to the stable, carrying a gray cloak.

“Are you all ready to leave then?”, she said, and put the cloak around my shoulders, tying it under my chin. “Yes”, the witcher answered, and climbed onto his horse. “Come”, he said, and reached his hand out to me.

“She gets to ride?”, Jaskier asked woundedly.

I put my hand into the witchers, and he pulled me into the saddle in a swift and strong move; to sit in front of him, my back to his chest. He smelled like fresh dirt; musky herbs and metal.

“Pomp and spectacle, Jaskier”, his voice rumbled behind me. “Hood up, girl”, he demanded, and I did as asked.

I looked at the bard. “The grey stallion”, I said earnestly. “It’s mine. You can bring it as far as the ship”. Thrude smirked, and shook her head at me.

“Witcher; you will take care of her”, she said. A command; not a question. The witcher grunted behind me. “As promised”, he said. Thrude nodded.

With a last look towards my beloved old friend; I kissed the frog still hanging around my neck; and we we’re off.

---

We rode through the night, reaching a small harbor when the moon was at its highest. A fisherman was waiting for us, standing on the dock by an old boat; just large enough to transport all of us, and the witchers horse.

After Jaskier had gotten of the grey stallion, I smacked it’s behind, making it run of into the trees.

“Eist won’t like it when his favorite horse is gone from the stables”, the witcher said. Jaskier looked from him to me with horror on his face. “I’m a dead man!”, he whimpered.

The witcher chuckled silently, and handed me the satchel that had held my “new” dress. “Your name is Zaba. You are an herbalist in training, on your way to Lyria; to learn from your new master there”. I looked at him confused. “Zaba?” “It means frog”, he added, and turned to lead his horse onto the boat.

I frowned, and looked down at my necklace. Frog. Opening the satchel, I found in it some dried herbs, and a small book; filled out with what I recognized to be Thrude’s handwriting. There were recipes for draughts against headaches and simple stomach pains. Most of them I already knew; as Thrude had been diligent in her training of me as a non-vöelve. I had never been able to see the future, or predict next year’s crop; but I did know my way around simple healing of wounds and the occasional childbirth. I’d also managed to avoid pregnancy with the few lovers I’d had.

Along with my herbalist gear, there were fresh undergarments and stockings; and a few copper coins.

The fisherman giving me a hand; I stepped onto the boat; almost forgetting that this might be the last time my feet would be touching Skellige soil. The witchers horse brayed.

“I don’t like it any more than you do, Roach. But we’ll be in Attre before you know it.”, the witcher said to it. I looked on in wonder.

“He talks to his horse. You best get used to it”, Jaskier said, stepping onto the boat after me. He didn’t look like he’d forgiven me for making him a horse-thief just yet.

I walked up to the mare, standing on the other side of it than the witcher. “Her name is Roach?”, I asked. “Yes”, he said, not meeting my eyes.

I put my hands on the horse’s muzzle, and blew gently at it; the horse responding in kind. The witcher looked at me with narrowed eyes. “Hello, Roach”, I said, and scratched a spot behind its ear. “Thanks for the ride”.

I went to sit at the stern. “Wouldn’t the lady be more comfortable below deck?”, the fisherman asked. “She’ll be fine”, the witcher rumbled in response; and sat down to lean against a barrel.

We set off; the wind in our favor. It wasn’t long before my home islands became dots in the distance behind us.

I might not have a home there anymore, I thought. But no one is going to tell me where I will make a new one!

---

Thanks for reading. Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list.

- no lady

[jovialyouthmusic]

Two’s Company

Brad retrieves a vital memory, and Lucy goes to visit Hana and Sophia Lykel at the Palace.

Word Count 3973

A/N No smut, some drama and a lot of fluff. Still, due to the adult nature of other chapters No under 18s please

8 Looking to the Future

‘Sorry I’m late. Thanks for your patience, Miss…?’

‘Uh, Lucy’ The young woman looked at him with a strange expression, as if she had been knocked off balance.

As had he. There was something about her that he couldn’t put his finger on. None of the ladies of the Cordonian Court had whatever it was she had. His stomach did somersaults and his heart faltered as he gazed into her eyes, hypnotised. He pulled himself together.

‘Charmed to make your acquaintance, Lucy’ The words came easily as soon as he drew himself up into what Drake called ‘regal mode’ – the role he had practiced with his brother but never thought he’d have to fulfil. Apparently the young woman was having similar problems, as it was a second or so before she responded with…

‘The pleasure’s all mine. It’s nice to meet you’ The strange vacant expression on her face cleared, and she tucked her note pad into her apron pocket with a smile ‘Now let me put your order in. Be right back’ She turned and whisked away behind the bar, leaving him feeling like a fish stranded on dry land, and he stood gawking.

‘Brad – Brad?’ The voice seemed to come from far away. He didn’t want to answer it. He wanted to wait for the young woman to come back. He wanted to put on his best smile and charm her into lingering at the table.

‘He didn’t hit his head, did he? Please tell me he didn’t’

‘No, he went down like a bag of rocks, but he didn’t hit his head’

‘I didn’t think he’d take it like this. Should we call a doctor?’

‘He’s coming round – his eyes are flickering’ The voice was Maxwells. He opened his eyes to see his friend bending over him, a look of consternation on his face. Behind him was Drake, and beside him…

‘Miss - Lucy? Is our order ready yet?’ His own voice seemed strange, and his head hurt. He was lying on the floor, and went to sit up. That made his head feel worse, and he put his hand up, groaning. His mind was a whirl of images and voices. The young woman was by his side, supporting him and murmuring quietly. She smelled of roses and lavender.

‘Brad, take it easy. It’s okay, I’m here – and Drake, and Max’ He looked beyond her at Drake. One moment he knew who Lucy was, the next – she was a stranger. He tried to get up, and Drake helped him to a seat in the booth. It looked exactly like…

‘The dive bar – in New York’ Half of his mind understood, half did not. ‘Lucy’ his head snapped toward her ‘We met here’ She sat heavily at his words, tears welling up in her eyes and a weak smile on her face.

‘You remember’ she said, her voice faltering.

‘I - I’m not sure’ He rubbed his forehead. ‘It comes and goes.’ His hand fell to his lap and words poured from his mouth. ‘We were in New York, on my bachelor party. Drake arranged it’ Lucy was nodding, eyes bright. ‘We went to a bar like this – Max was here – and Tariq.’ He looked round ‘Where is Tariq?’ Lucy shuddered.

‘One step at a time, Brad’ she said softly ‘don’t try too hard, let it come naturally’ He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His face cleared, his expression peaceful.

‘You took me to the Statue of Liberty’ he murmured. ‘You were – like nobody I’d ever met before’ he reached out to caress her cheek. ‘Thankyou Lucy’ The two of them sat staring at each other until Maxwell piped up.

‘Yay, Brad remembers. Now where’s those burgers?’

------

‘So I had the staff make the cellar out like my old bar and went into town to buy this outfit’ Lucy said as she munched away on her burger. Max was on his second and Drake had gone to fetch more barbeque sauce and salad. Alcohol was again off the menu, despite them sitting in the mock up of the dive bar Lucy had worked in when Drake had taken Maxwell, Tariq and Brad there. Drake was still not drinking and of course Lucy couldn’t. Brad felt a little guilty for having had a small whiskey beforehand.

‘Strictly speaking, if we’re going for authenticity, you should be serving at the bar, not eating with us’ Drake pointed out. Lucy reached across and punched his upper arm. He yelped and rubbed at it ruefully.

‘Shut up, you. All that matters is Brad remembering when we met’ she said sharply, then turned back to him. He was feeling a lot better with some food in his stomach, and his memory was consolidating.

‘I do!’ he said triumphantly. ‘I remember that evening. I remember waking up the next morning and wishing I could see you again, then…’ his face fell. ‘That’s it so far’ Lucy patted his hand.

‘It’s a start. We’ll try revisiting some other meetings, but I’ll check with  the doctor again and make sure you don’t have a reaction like this one.’ She frowned ‘You fainted clean away. I’ve never seen anything like it. How did it feel?’ He put his burger down and wrinkled his forehead.

‘It was all muddled. Seeing you in that outfit – it was so confusing, but it must have triggered something. I just – blacked out when it got too complicated. It was – it was like an electrical fault. Everything flickered.’ He nodded in affirmation ‘and then the memory remained.’

‘I’m so happy’ Lucy said, scooting closer to him on the bench and putting her head on his shoulder. He put his arm around her and kissed the top of her head, but inwardly he wasn’t sure just how much more he was going to recall, or even if the memory he had just unearthed would remain. The question of where Tariq was niggled at him, but he could tell that it was something Lucy didn’t want to talk about.

Drake returned with more food, and Brad smiled to himself. Both he and Maxwell had healthy appetites – it was perhaps the only thing they had in common. Usually they bickered and sniped at each other, but Lucy seemed to affect the two of them in a positive way.

‘It’s the Lucy effect’ he said aloud, another memory bubbling up. Wherever she went, she inspired and united people. She was a catalyst, changing others but remaining the same. He was so lucky to have met her, and even more fortunate to have ended up marrying her – even if he couldn’t remember it. She twisted to look up at him, her expression bright.

‘Oh, you remember that?’ she said. ‘That wasn’t so long ago – or at least you told me just after we called Drake…’ her voice trailed off as Brad looked blank, and shook his head.

‘I may have made some progress, but something tells me we still have a long way to go’

------

Understandably, Lucy wanted Brad to sleep with her that night, so Drake and Maxwell sat up in the mock bar shooting the breeze.

‘It looks like Lucy’s idea worked’ Maxwell remarked ‘But I suppose you’re not letting the whole story out to the press. How is he really?’ He leaned forward on his elbows and Drake sighed heavily.

‘It’s odd. Without Lucy I don’t know how he’d cope – but he can only remember snippets of their time together. There’s other bits missing from his memory, but we can’t find anything in common with the gaps’

‘That must be hard, man’ He seemed lost for words for a moment and leaned back into the padded back of the bench. Drake was unsure about whether to tell him about Lucy’s pregnancy. She’d not mentioned it to Max herself and had been too preoccupied with setting up their distraction to discuss the matter with him. Drake’s sister knew, but he didn’t trust Max not to accidentally let it slip. That was a solid ‘no’ then.

‘So what else are you going to try?’ Maxwell asked ‘I could do an interpretive dance if you like’ Drake snorted.

‘I’ll take a pass, thanks. But the next thing has to be the Ball. Lucy still has the dress she wore, and there’s a charity event coming up for the orphanage.’ Maxwell pushed out his bottom lip and nodded.

‘See, I wasn’t far off the mark.’ He yawned ‘I’d better get to bed. Lucy said she’d arranged to see Hana tomorrow, so I said I’d give her a lift’ Drake blanched as Max got up and stretched.

‘Please tell me you’re not driving.’ Max scoffed as Drake’s expression changed.

‘You and Bertrand – I don’t know why you don’t trust me behind the wheel. Don’t worry, I’ve got my driver, remember.’ Drake scowled.

‘Just because you’ve got a chauffeur doesn’t necessarily mean he’ll be in the driving seat.’ He glared at the younger man ‘Promise me you’ll sit in the back with Lucy, or so help me…’

‘It’s fine, I’d rather sit with her than drive. Then we can hold hands and canoodle…’ he dodged as Drake lunged at him, but he failed and ended up with Drake’s fist grasping his shirt front, other fist cocked. ‘Joke, Drake, joke!’ he squeaked ‘She’s already got two men to keep her happy, I’d never…’ Drake let him go, and he readjusted his tie.

‘You’d better not have any ideas’ he growled.

‘Of course not, she’s like a sister to me’ Max said reassuringly ‘And…’ he looked down at his feet, shuffling uncomfortably. ‘I think I’ve met someone.’ He looked up quickly ‘But don’t ask me anything, I don’t want to jinx it’

‘Fine, Max, find. Just don’t even hint at making my life any more complicated’ Drake shook his head ‘You have no idea’ Max looked at him with sympathy.

‘You can always talk to me, y’know. Friendly ear, a trouble halved – all that’ Drake softened. Max meant well, he was sincere – but he couldn’t risk it.

‘Thanks. I appreciate it, but maybe another time, Max. I’ll get off to bed too. See you in the morning’

--------

The following day, true to his word Max set off with Lucy, and under Drake’s watchful eye made a show of sitting in the back seat with her. Hana had been at Ramsford helping to look after Bartie, but she was at the Palace ready to help Bastien and Sophia when the twins came. She had discovered that she doted on small children and babies, and Savannah had recommended her as support and babysitter. Maxwell was only stopping to say hello before going back home to help or hinder his brother.

Hana waited for Lucy at the front of the Palace, and hugged her tight as she got out of the car. Bastien hovered behind her keeping a respectful distance.

‘Lucy, you look amazing!’ she smiled ‘How’s his Majesty?’

‘Brad is improving’ she said ‘But it’s difficult to say how much of his memory he’ll get back’ She turned to Bastien ‘How’s Sophia? It can’t be long now’ He stepped forward and took her offered hand, clasping warmly it in both of his.

‘She’s – well to be honest she’s cranky and bored’ he smiled ruefully. ‘Thankyou for asking, your Majesty. If you have time to pop in to our rooms and say hello she’d be grateful’ Bastien and Sophia had married shortly after Anton’s trial, and he had stepped down from his role as Captain when Sophia became pregnant. He was still employed as security advisor and also sat on the new Council that Brad had set up to break the power of the nobility and involve commoners more in the running of the country. For the time being they still lodged at the Palace, moving into a larger suite in the staff wing, and planned to move to their own place when they had settled more into family life.

‘I’ve ordered afternoon tea in my suite. I know it’s only lunchtime, but I thought I’d be rebellious’ Hana interjected, a hint of mischief in her eyes. ‘Sophia’s more than welcome to come along’ Bastien made a face.

‘That’s most kind of you, but she’s suffering from heartburn and can only tolerate small meals’ he replied.

‘I could go and see her first’ Lucy smiled ‘I’d like to talk to her and Hana together if it’s possible’ Bastien ran his fingers through his carefully styled hair, and Lucy wondered how his personal grooming routine would stand up to dealing with newborn twins.

‘I’ll go and ask her now – I’ll let you know, your Grace’ he inclined his head politely and went back into the Palace. Lucy turned back to the car.

‘Thanks for bringing me, Max’ she said ‘Say hi to Savannah for me. I’ll try and pop by in a week or so. Are you coming in?’

‘Nah’ Maxwell waved his hand dismissively ‘Savvy’s been texting me asking when I’ll be back, so Bartie’s probably playing up. Fun Uncle Maxie is needed’ he winked, gave her a salute and got back into the car. ‘Ramsford next – full speed ahead, Steve’ Within seconds the car had set off back down the drive.

‘What’s the betting he’ll be in trouble with Bertrand before the end of the day?’ Hana laughed. ‘Now then, you said you had some important news for me’

‘I do, but it’s strictly hush hush, and I’d like to tell Bastien and Sophia too’ Hana clapped her hands delightedly.

‘Oh – I think I can guess’ she cried, ‘More cuddles for Auntie Hana?’ Lucy looked around carefully

‘’Shhh don’t let on, it’s a secret, but you guessed right’ Lucy smiled ‘I hope Sophia’s feeling up to us visiting’

‘Oh she’s fine, she just likes to keep Bastien on his toes’ she giggled. ‘We might as well make our way there, she’ll be delighted to see you’ The two women went into the Palace and strolled the corridors on their way to the Staff wing. Just as Hana predicted, they were only halfway there when Bastien caught up with them.

‘Sophia says go right on in. If you’ll excuse me your Grace, I have a meeting. Lady Hana knows where to go’

‘Could you spare us five minutes first please, Bastien?’ Lucy asked ‘I have some news I’d like to share’ He frowned, looking at his watch, then looked up brightly.

‘They can’t start without me, so of course. Follow me’ He stopped outside the door to his quarters and paused ‘If you don’t mind, can I ask how the King is coping? He seemed to be doing quite well when he was here, but of course you’d notice more’

‘He’s improving. We’re building up a relationship. It’s almost as if we’d just met, but he’s accepted who I am and we’re working on it. I’m planning a few events to jog his memory, and we’ve had some success already.’ Bastien nodded solemnly.

‘That sounds good. Now come on in’ He ushered them inside to the lounge, the décor and furnishings showing Sophia’s softening influence on Bastien’s love of order and neatness. Sophia rose to greet them, belly prominent. She wasn’t a slight build, but Lucy wondered how her body could possibly adapt to growing two offspring. Sophia put her hand in the small of her back, and Bastien rushed over to help steady her.

‘Be careful theà mou, not too fast’ he chided, and she rolled her eyes.

‘Stop fussing, Bas. I need to get up every now and again, I can’t just sit.’ she muttered, but still held onto his arm as she made a tiny curtsey, grimacing slightly as she rose. Lucy went forward to take her hand. ‘So good of you to come, your majesty - sorry, hugs aren’t really practical right now’ Sophia smiled ruefully ‘I can hardly remember what it’s like to be a normal size.’

‘Please, call me Lucy – you too, Bas. There’s nobody to judge your lack of formality.’ She and Hana sat, and Sophia lowered herself back into her easy chair with Bastien’s help. He pulled up a footstool and helped her to rest her feet.

‘I’d offer you tea, but I can’t stomach it at the moment. I’m sure you’ll have a lovely meal with Hana’ Sophia grimaced a little, and her partner solicitously rearranged the cushions for her. She touched his hand gratefully and gazed up at him. It was obvious that they were devoted to each other, and Lucy envied them for a moment, despite Brad’s returning memory and affection.

‘I’m glad Bastien could join us’ Lucy started, her hands in her lap. She drew a deep breath. ‘It’s early days and we’re keeping it quiet for the moment, but… I’m pregnant. If all goes well, Cordonia will have a new heir in seven months’ Sophia’s hand flew to her mouth in surprise, and Bastien beamed broadly.

‘I suspected as such. Congratulations, I trust his Majesty is pleased. I know he’s always wanted a family’ Sophia was smiling after her initial shock.

‘Oh your – Lucy, that’s marvellous news! Don’t mind me complaining about all this’ she rubbed her belly. ‘You’ve caught me at the worst stage, and I’m told it’s not difficult.’ she rolled her eyes at Bastien.

‘Now that’s not what I said, theà mou’ he started ‘I just pointed out how many women…’ she smacked his hand.

‘Stop mansplaining. I don’t care what other women did, every pregnancy is different’ she snapped, her sunny mood breaking a little, and he winced. She turned to Lucy. ‘If you need any advice, ask away. How’s the morning sickness?’ It was Lucy’s turn to grimace.

‘Not pleasant’ she sighed. ‘Dry biscuits help’

‘I was lucky, it didn’t last too long, but this last trimester is a beast with two on the way. I feel as big as a whale’ Sophia sighed.

‘Well, I have to go’ Bastien said, and bent to kiss his wife ‘Is there anything you need?’

‘No, I’ll be fine. I’ll call housekeeping if I do’ He was almost at the door when she called him ‘Oh, but you could bring me some Ben and Jerrys when you get back’ He paused mid stride and turned. His face was impassive and his tone neutral.

‘Of course, my goddess, what flavour?’

‘Surprise me’ He blanched slightly at that, but smiled and made a little bow to Lucy and left. Sophia threw back her head and groaned.

‘Oh my god, there’s nothing I can do to rattle him.’ She looked at the two women’s astonished expressions and pursed her lips. ‘Bas is just so bloody perfect. I’m trying to get him to crack, it’s my only entertainment right now, he won’t let me go anywhere. Not that there’s anywhere I want to go, and I can only really manage a waddle.’ Hana made a sympathetic noise.

‘Are you sure you won’t take early afternoon tea with us? I can always have it brought here’ Sophia picked at a piece of lint on the swell of her belly, sighing heavily.

‘No, it’s fine. I’m pretty tired, I’m going to try and have a nap’ She stopped and made a little squeak and Lucy swore she could see a tiny lump appear and disappear on her baby bump. ‘If these two hooligans let me. I swear they’re having a party in there’

‘Well, I’m sorry you’re having a hard time, but it won’t be long now’ Lucy said ‘You’re welcome to come stay at Valtoria and have extra hands to help, and it will give the boys a taste of what’s to come.’

‘I’m pretty sure we’ll have that here, but if we want a change of scene I’m sure Bas will bring me over’ Sophia made as if to rise out of her seat, but Lucy put out her hand to stop her.

‘Please don’t get up again. We’ll see ourselves out. We could ask a member of staff to come and sit with you’

‘Oh don’t worry, Bas checks on me regularly. I have a panic button and he actually tunes into my fitness tracker to check my heartbeat. One of his staff hacked into it and he can keep tabs on me with his phone.’ She showed her the band she wore on her wrist. ‘If I really want to freak him out all I have to do is take it off. He’d get an alarm message and he’d be here so fast it would cause a sonic boom’ Lucy chuckled.

‘When it comes down to it I’ll probably have either Drake or Brad hovering at my side twenty four seven when I get near my due date. Probably sooner knowing them’

‘Well good luck.’ Sophia smiled ‘Thanks so much for coming. Are you staying long?’

‘No, I’m staying over and going back in the morning, but I’ll be back for a few days with Brad when the charity ball’s on. I have a plan to jog his memory’ Lucy could see Sophia was a little flushed and she looked tired, so the two women left her to rest.

Back at Hana’s quarters, afternoon tea was beautifully presented on a table by the window overlooking the grounds. She could see the maze and the knot garden, and in the distance, the summerhouse was hidden in the trees by the lake. Lucy eyed the spread of food laid out, wide eyed. Tiny sandwiches, savouries and pastries were arranged on a cake stand, and a jug of sparkling apple juice stood ready with two glasses.

‘Oh my goodness, is that Brie on the cracker? The guys would freak if they saw – and chorizo?’

‘Don’t worry, it’s safe’ Hana smiled ‘I tried to get a few things that look naughty but aren’t. You can eat anything on the table. All the cheeses are made with pasteurised milk, and the meats are vegan substitutes. I even taste tested them to check how good they are. The kitchens had already sourced a lot of pregnancy friendly things thanks to Bastien.’

‘Well, it all looks spectacular, and I’ll ask for them to send their recommendations to the Cook at Valtoria.’

‘Tuck in’ Hana smiled ‘How’s your appetite?’ Lucy frowned as Hana picked up a tartlet.

‘It’s increasing. The guys don’t know it, but I have a secret chocolate stash in my study. I locked it away in the desk and keep the key in my purse’

‘Well, you’re eating for two’ Lucy picked up a tiny sausage and popped it into her mouth, rolling her eyes at the spicy tang.

‘What is it about men trying to control what we do and what we eat? I’m only eight weeks in and already Brad’s turned into the food police.’

‘Let me guess, Drake sneaks you a few treats’ Hana giggled ‘He always did like to challenge authority’

‘Not so far, but they are kind of ‘good husband, bad husband’’ Lucy replied ‘Whatever one insists on, the other one vetoes. It’ll probably be the same with our kids. They’ll be champions at playing one off against the other.’

‘They mean well, I’m certain’ Hana picked up a dainty sandwich and nibbled at it ‘They only want to make sure you’re properly looked after’

‘I suppose so’ Lucy sighed ‘I just like a bit of alone time to feel normal, you know, and not have to think about it constantly’

‘Well you can always come and visit me, though I may have my hands full with the twins if all goes well’

‘Even better, I can get some first hand experience.’ Hana poured some sparkling water out for the two of them.

‘Let’s drink to Sophia and Bastien’s new family, and to yours too’ she smiled, and they clinked glasses and drank to the future.

@sirbeepsalot @fluffyfirewhiskey @katedrakeohd @dcbbw @camillemontespan​ @kingliam2019​ @notoriouscs​ @texaskitten30

[wafflesetc]

Chapter 19: An Unexpected Meeting (previously)

Claire Beauchamp is a second year medical student. Due to many late nights with her clinicals, and studying for her pharmacology class, she’s at wits end. One Friday night she decides not to join Joe Abernathy and her other friends out at Church, their local hangout spot, but instead winds up in a dive bar close to her flat with a very nice whisky selection. In fact, one of the best one she’s ever seen. When the bartender calls her ‘Sassenach’ and pours her a double, Claire gets a feeling in her chest she’s never felt before.

A/N: I *know* it’s been... A while. I could give you every reason under the  sun why it has been that long. My excuses are valid and reason enough, I still want to apologize for the lengthy delay. I never intended to go a whole year between updates. I promise it won’t be that long again. The revival of this fic is long owed to @happytoobserve​ who has been one of its biggest cheerleaders since day 1. To @walkinginland​, @kkruml​, and @missclairebelle​ who held my hand during this process of getting my legs back with these two, I owe you indefinitely.

And most importantly, to the readers who even after A YEAR are still excited for what is in store for these two, I hope this was worth the wait. 

ALL MY LOVE, WAFFLES

PS- This is a bit angsty. I just ask that you trust me, okay?!

“Joe, I will call you… Later.” I crossed my arms and gave my friend a knowing glance, one he’d seen before and knew I needed space for a bit. 

“Ok, Lady Jane.” He gave a nod in the direction of John and found his way out of the building. 

I took a breath and turned my attention to our guest. “There’s a courtyard just outside the building. Is it okay if we talk there? I have another class in about 45 minutes.” 

“That is fine.” He agreed. I gestured towards the doors and we slowly made our way.

“How are you?” John asked, politely. I could feel he was trying to ease the palpable tension between the two of us. 

I was trying to be pleasant and cordial, but whatever reserve I had would quickly fade away.  “All things considered, I am doing just dandy.” We rounded a corner and I sat down on the first bench that I saw. “Finals are coming up soon, Jamie’s healing just fine, and I have an amazing opportunity in Paris.” 

“That’s wonderful.” John said earnestly as he sat down next to me. “I’m really happy for you. I must apologize for coming to you while you’re in classes… But this is rather time sensitive.” 

“I have one question, first.” I closed my eyes and took a breath. “I think you owe me that much.” 

John stifled a laugh and put his hand on my knee. It startled me for a moment, but after a quick glance at his face I could tell how honest he was trying to be. “I have turned your world upside down, basically overnight. I think a question is reasonable.” 

“Does Jamie know?” I could feel the tears rising to the surface. “Does Jamie know about William?” 

“No.” John took a breath and released it. “As far as I know, he doesn’t.” There was a sincerity in his voice I couldn’t point, but something in me knew he wasn’t lying. 

“I am going to need you to elaborate on that one.” I was being honest. The last bits of strength that I had were hanging by a few fine threads, ready to be cut at any moment. 

“Jamie and Geneva… They went to high school together. Their families were very fond of each other. My future father-in-law granted the Frasers the land that Lallybroch thrives upon. Jamie comes from a good family and has a good head on his shoulders.” 

I turned my face towards him to find him looking about the courtyard. There were a few students sitting on benches and blankets, presumably studying, however they were all scattered on the opposite side. We were alone in many respects, no one to hear or interrupt us. John stayed silent for a little while. I could see the small film of tears in his own eyes. Surely, whatever he was about to say was going to change things for me.

“But unfortunately, we are all human at one point or another and make mistakes.” He sat back and looked around the garden once more, staying silent for a minute. I could tell he was gathering his thoughts, trying to tell me a story I wasn’t sure I even wanted to hear. Carefully trying to thread together a story that was neither his nor mine, yet that we had been somehow woven into.

“Isobel did not go on at length, but the summer before they were going away to university is when it happened. Geneva never gave her family the details, and when her parents realized what was going to happen in a few months' time, they sent her to England to live with her aunt and uncle.” 

I wiped a tear and waited for him to continue. The reality of what he was about to tell me started to sink in. Those fine threads were about to be cut, I could tell. I didn’t want to cry over a past that was not mine, but Jamie’s past was putting kinks into our future- a future I had planned with him.

“She stayed there and raised him, but about three years ago the crash happened and Geneva died.”

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. It put a small smile on John’s face. A sense of relief flooded through me, I did not want to dislike this Geneva, but another woman who knew my Jamie, intimately, well I was not prepared to handle any issues of jealousy. Was it selfish and morbid I was relieved I didn’t have to meet or try to measure up to the mother of his child, but also regretful over the fact the poor boy had lost his mother? Probably, but having lost my own mother as a child, I knew first hand how hard it was, and no child deserved that sort of pain. Nonetheless, it didn’t make the current circumstances any easier and I did think I was allowed to  be a bit selfish when it came to my future. 

“She left the care and trust of her son to Isobel- but at the time Isobel was still young herself, finishing university with plans of graduate school. Their aunt and uncle were rather fond of William, so they allowed him to stay with them. England is all William has ever known, and he is very attached to Edith and Mark.” 

I must have been crying more than I knew because John handed me a tissue. 

“Shall I continue, or is that enough?” I saw a helplessness in his eyes. This news was life changing for me, yet in many ways it had been for him too. 

I sat motionless, not knowing what to do or say. I didn’t know what I wanted but something must have urged him to go on. 

“Mark fell very ill last year, and he isn’t doing well. That’s when Edith contacted Isobel asking what they would want for William, should something happen. Life has a funny twist of fate….” He let out a small laugh at what I presumed was his so-called twist of fate.

“Because Jamie and I met during our years at university- I had no clue he was acquainted with the Dunsanys. Isobel and I met during graduate school, and when I mentioned a story with James Fraser, her mouth dropped. She told me about William only a few months ago though, and that is when I started trying to call Jamie.” 

“And now, I’m pulled into your so-called funny twist of fate.” My words were short, and I could feel something brewing in my stomach. 

Truth was, I wanted to like John Grey. He seemed to be an honest, respectable man. It wasn’t his fault for the events that had happened in the past, yet he was here and seemed to be wanting to talk about this, even before he told Jamie. This was all confusing in so many different ways. This- John Grey- a long time friend of Jamie’s, was really someone from my boyfriend’s past I was sure I’d enjoy his company, but given the current circumstances, I didn’t like the news he was bringing me. My reading on him was all over the map. 

“Yes, you are.” John gave me a soft smile. “I’ve been coming to Edinburgh for business lately, and I knew I would find Jamie here. We talk, not all that often, but we are old friends. Always able to pick up where we left off.” 

“Mhmm.” It was all I could muster. Mentally and emotionally, I was just drained. This was too  much for one conversation, but I had to try to hold myself together. Just for a little while longer at least. 

“I had wanted to tell him the first time I was in town but when we met, he was so excited to tell me about something that had happened to him…” John reached across and took my hand in his, giving it light squeeze. 

“It was me, wasn’t it?” Jamie and I had happened quickly. I hadn’t been looking for a relationship, especially after Frank and I had ended just shortly before. Yet Jamie had fallen into my orbit and was something that held to me like gravity. He had seamlessly fixed himself into my universe and just fit. Even I had a hard time explaining it to anyone.

“It was,” John smiled at me. “I had never seen him smile the way he did when he said your name. And when he started to tell me about you he’d never been so proud of anything in his life. Even his bar. Claire…” He gave my hand a firm squeeze this time and smiled so wide I knew that deep down whatever he was about to say he meant it with every fiber in his being.

“I hope I am not about to overstep a boundary, especially because we don’t really know each other, but Jamie loves you and is planning his future with you in it. Whether you are aware of that or not- I have seen it in your eyes you feel the same way. The news of William will rock the foundation on which he has lived his life since his parents died.”   

“Yes, it will.” I agreed. 

“It’s complicated, in many ways. And Geneva should have told him, or my future-in-laws should have too. But I think they all wanted Jamie to live his life rather than doing what was right at the time. It stunned me when Isobel told me about it, so much so, I questioned whether or not to continue with the engagement…”

“But you did.” 

“I did, and I do not regret my choice. When Jamie told me about you, I made a vow to myself I would tell the two of you together, so he had you to ground him. But I am glad I told you first. I think it would be best for you to know so we can tell him together.” 

“Together.” I whispered either to myself or to John, I didn’t really know. “You want to do it together so I’m there to comfort him, right?

“I think I have taken up enough of your time, and I have surely given you something to digest.” 

I laughed at that, and I saw a small purse of his lips. 

“Yes, I have.” He chuckled at the look on my face, “But Claire… I am telling you as a long time friend of Jamie’s, you either stick with him through this or don’t. He has already lost so much in his life. I cannot stand for it to happen to him again, so whatever you choose to do, I hope you make a wise choice.” 

“What do you mean?” I felt the pit of anxiety raising in my stomach. 

“I told you he sees a future with you. If you don’t think you can handle whatever relationship William is to have with Jamie, then you should leave him now. Don’t help him through this and leave him later… He… Would never recover.” 

With that he stood and handed me a piece of paper. “Here is my number; Jamie doesn’t know I’m in town yet. I made reservations for dinner for you, me, Jamie and Isobel for tomorrow night. You can tell him on your own if you’d like tonight since it appears you have a glass face, or we can tell him tomorrow...But please, think of what you want with him, with whatever choice you make.”

John gave me a small bow and left me. I felt the buzz of my alarm going off alerting me that class was starting in ten minutes. I wouldn’t be going. The last thing I could do was sit in a lecture hall and pretend to be interested in pharmacology.

Hastily, I reached into my bag and typed an email to my professor.

Dr. Glassman, I have had a small family emergency arise. I will not be making it to the lecture. I will get notes from Joe Abernathy and follow up with you after the next class. 

Claire Beauchamp 

The whoosh of the email sounded in my ears. I shoved my phone back into my bag, rising to my feet. 

I had already made my choice. Long before I had even known about a man named John Grey. 

Jamie had told me we had room for secrets but not for lies. And I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt he had no clue what was going on. Jamie was an intuitive man, so I knew he could sense John had life changing news for him, but what the news was, Jamie surely didn’t know.

I didn’t know how I was going to tell Jamie or what my plan was, but I knew he would be seeking my forgiveness for this- for all of it. Truth was, I’d give it to him. I’d already forgiven everything he had done and everything he could do long before today. 

For me that was no choice, that was falling in love.

[enithinggoes]

Wanderer’s Refuge, chapter 2: caught red-handed

Agatha and Ursa knew they wouldn’t be able to stay flying for long, by morning they were already starting to feel hungry and thirsty, so Ursa pointed them to a nearby town she’d heard of so they could get supplies and maybe some maps of the country, they brought the train down as they approached and parked it hidden in a small clearing, then the girls went together into town, looking to find some means to get by just for the near future, as luck would have it, a very important opportunity was waiting just around the corner…

A young red haired man who preferred to go just by his first name was leaning against a wall, gathering his thoughts. He had the plan, he had the smarts, he had the stuff, he just needed the extra hands, someone desperate enough to take the risks and not ask about a big cut…

“We’re gonna need a way to make money.” Said Ursa, pushing Agatha’s wheelchair along the busy streets “and I don’t think people are gonna be super keen on hiring two teenagers that came out of nowhere.”

The man reacted instantly upon hearing them, “Perfect!”, and pushed himself off the wall, catching the coin he was flipping with a flourish and quickly turning to the girls and extending a gloved hand, he wore a dapper suit and a cheeky smile. “Good morning, young ladies! Haven’t seen you around here, are you two looking for a quick job?”

Agatha was a bit stunned by this sudden encounter, so it was all she could do to put her hand out, which the young man vigorously shook.

“Who are you and what the hell do you want with us?” said Ursa, clearly on edge.

“The name’s Lawrence, and there’s no need to be so rude. I want to take you two to lunch, my treat; I know this great place downtown. There, we can discuss a way you can both make 100 shillings in less than a week.”

The two girls glanced at each other, this man was twelve kinds of shady, but 200 total pounds was enough for not only basic supplies, but probably a few mattresses and an ice box, maybe even some coal(they hypothesized that maybe giving the train’s engine some steam might make Agatha less tired from flying).

“We’ll talk over lunch, but we do reserve the right to back out even if you pay for us!” Ursa answered, eyeing Lawrence suspiciously

“Of course, of course. Right this way, then!” The redhead did something close to a twirl turning back and leading them quickly down an alley.

At the restaurant, Lawrence had impeccable table manners, even better than Agatha’s, and definitely than Ursa’s, who was scarfing down an expensive cut of beef when he asked “So, I’ve told you ladies my name, it would be rude if you didn’t give me yours.”

“I’m Agatha Clarke, it’s a pleasure to meet you. And this is Ursa Martin,” said the white-haired girl, Ursa just mumbled in agreement while still chewing.

“Now, an illustrious coal baron, mr. Robert Evans, is coming to town with an entourage to visit the local mines, which have been drying up for a few decades. And I’d wager, with proper prestidigitation we can make a deal with him that shall be quite lucrative for us.” Lawrence explained with a devilish smile.

“So you’re a scammer.” Ursa said matter-of-factly.

“I prefer to think of myself as a merchant that really knows how to make a sale.” He said, entirely unperturbed.

“Alright, I’m down to scam a coal baron, what’s the game?”

“I’m glad you’ve asked, partner.”

Over the next few days, Lawrence brought the girls over to where he’d been staying, it was a small hotel room, surprising considering the apparent quality of his suit, Ursa had to carry Agatha’s chair up, since there were only stairs. There, he showed them a few large bags of oddly shaped rocks he’d collected plus some soot-based paint, “made it myself!” he commented with a wink.

They spent their time painting the rocks very thoroughly to look as much like coal as possible, while putting them out to dry, Agatha innocently asked “Sir Lawrence, I hope you don’t mind but why do you keep all your belongings in bags and pouches, is there something wrong with the room’s lockers?”

“Well, you see, I just like to keep my things close at hand.” The red-haired man seemed bashful, like that was only half an answer, still, Agatha didn’t want to pry. “You’re a very wholesome woman, aren’t you? I was actually a bit worried you’d be against my business model.”

“Well, you see, sir, I don’t think a baron of anything is going to be hurting for money anytime soon. And we don’t have many options in the present moment.” Agatha avoided mentioning she was already, by all accounts, a criminal.

 Lawrence put his knuckle to his chin and said “I see, I guess I misjudged you a little. Well, then we’d best get back to work, we have some rehearsing to do!” He felt like he understood her a bit more, but cut the conversation short, he didn’t like getting too attached to his “coworkers”

The three of them slept in Lawrence’s cramped room, Agatha and Ursa wanting to avoid the hassle of moving back to the train and the possibility of revealing their magical artifice, who knows how Lawrence could react?

The guests shared a sleeping bag of his cuddled together on the floor, while Lawrence rested on his bed, never taking off his gloves or turning his back to the door.

When a total of 5 days had passed, the final preparations were made in the morning and the three headed close to the city’s entrance, when they saw a man in a strikingly black suit accompanied by three burly lads, his eyes and nose turned slightly upwards as he strode, Ursa and Lawrence, both wearing dirty overalls, walked down onto the street, shouting at each other.

“Ya can’t sell those, those are all that’s left of Pa!” said Ursa, faking the accent people imagined miners to have.

“Well he worked himself ta death findin’ these so we could live a decent life!” retorted Lawrence, carrying a large, metal bucket full of painted pebbles.

“We could take over this whole town if ya just worked in that mine for a few more weeks!” she grabbed onto Lawrence’s shoulders, shaking him.

“We ain’t gonna be alive for more weeks if Ah don’t sell these!” He pushed her away, purposefully letting the rocks shake and make noise inside the bucket.

The baron’s bodyguards were about to push the two away from his path when, with an elegant, but firm hit of his cane onto the sidewalk, he commanded them to stop. Lawrence and Ursa turned to face him, feigning surprise.

“Now now, there’s no need for such vulgarism. Young man, would you kindly show me what you’re holding there?” He spoke to Lawrence slowly, like one speaks to a child.

As Ursa pretended to hold Lawrence back, he proudly showed the contents of the bucket, saying “This is what Pa used to call ‘charboné eterinow’, said he’d heard of it when he was young like me, burns as long as ya like, it does.”

“’Charbon eternél’, hmm, the eternal coal” Mr. Evans was clearly proud of his french, “could you show it to me in action?”

Lawrence put the bucket on the floor, smiling widely as he bragged “of course, mistah! Let me just get it burnin’ real quick” he took a little flask of moonshine from his pocket and let some drip onto the inside of the bucket, before setting it on fire with a simple tinderbox and quickly removing his hand before the flames flared to life.

“Easy there!” He quickly leaned back, his hands hovering at the sides of the bucket as they watched the flames cover the entirety of the bottom of the bucket, making the rocks hard to even look without feeling pain in one’s eyes.

Ursa was very nervous about this step, in theory, there should be nothing stopping the flame from fizzling out once all the alcohol was consumed, but Lawrence had assured her he “had a plan”. Lo and behold, the fire didn’t go out, instead it flared beautifully up, almost burning the coal baron’s clothes as it seemed to reach towards his eyes before stabilizing inside the bucket.

Whatever it was that Lawrence had done, it seemed that he was quite anxious too, as he stuck his tongue out the corner of his mouth in concentration and quickly started to sweat, thought that might have been from the heat, while his hands hovered near the bucket for more than two minutes before he quickly turned it upside down, fast enough for none of the rocks to go flying.

  “That should put it out in a few” said Lawrence, holding the bucket while the oxygen from the bucket depleted until he raised it up to reveal the still perfectly intact rocks underneath.

“See! Not one bit a wear n’ tear! Pretty special, right?” Lawrence turned looked up towards Robert Evans.

The coal baron hid his amazement by biting his lip and muttered “Special indeed.”

“Well, waddaya think? Pa told us these would be worth a fortune, how’s 600 sound?” Lawrence named a tall price, all part of negotiations.

“No, no, this is certainly impressive, but 600 is too much for a novelty, I’ll be generous with you and give you 300.”

“That’s a done deal!” The men shook hands, and after the money was exchanged, he paid Ursa and said he still had “some details to deal with really quick” so she and Agatha could go back to the room or wherever they wanted now.

Ursa met up with Agatha nearby, and excitedly told her about how the plan had worked, how they had enough money now to buy the things they would need to live for a while. Agatha asked about Lawrence, but Ursa said they shouldn’t expect him to hang around for long after the job, he was clearly a man with no interest in roots, ready to leave at any time.

“Guess that doesn’t make him very different from us.” Agatha commented with a sympathetic smile.

“huh… guess not.” Commented Ursa, made somewhat aware of her cynicism.

Meanwhile, Lawrence was making the “real” part of this plan come to fruition, he brought mr. Evans(at his request), to the “source” of the “charbon eternél”. A field of bare stone around a dark cave, were he’d half-buried, just conspicuously enough, dozens of painted rocks just like the ones in the bucket he carried, he counted on the baron’s arrogance to make him believe Lawrence wouldn’t see the potential something like a “mine of ever-burning coal” could have to completely destroy the current state of the economy.

“Here it is mister, this is where Pa found ‘em, spent 25 years looking for ‘em, he did.” Lawrence said, pointing around the area on the outskirts of town.

“I see,” said Robert Evans, “the site of such an interesting find should definitely be preserved, would you be willing to sell it to me for about 500 pounds?”

“Fahve hundred! Why that’s too kind, sir! I’d love to give it to you, I’ve been trying to get off this town and make it in the big city.” Lawrence rapidly shook Evans’ hand, keeping up the farce that he was the one being tricked with a lower value than this could really be worth, his plan had worked perfectly.

Lawrence went back to his room, with a score like this, 600 pounds all to himself, he really should take the chance to exit the scene as quick as he could, before anyone caught on and came to ask him for refunds.

He put his suit back on and gathered his things, his clothes, his sleeping bag, his toothbrush, his switchblade, any trace of the time he’d spent here, the only thing he left behind was a note with “good luck out there, don’t look for me.” For the people who had been his roommates for the last week, he pushed a pang of guilt at giving them such a small share of the score and just disappearing without a word away with the thought that this was just “the game”, and he’d just learned to play it well.

Lawrence thought a bit about where he could go now, probably somewhere with a big market and lots of gullible tourists. Yeah, that’d be good for a few more months, maybe even a year and a half.

After picking out a town south of where he was, he bought his ticket and waited inside the station, it would still a few hours until the train he’d booked came, but he didn’t want to risk any unfavorable encounters by walking around outside.

Unfortunately that didn’t stop two burly men, who he recognized as the coal baron’s bodyguards, from coming up to him and telling him to get up and come with them. Ok, a little snag, nowhere to just run away, no trains for a long time, but it’s fine, he can weasel his way out of this.

They brought him into an alleyway, where he met mr. Robert Evans again, he didn’t seem upset, but was definitely not friendly, as soon as Lawrence saw him, he started saying “I can explain,”.

“So,” interrupted the baron, “It appears to me you were not fully honest with your description of this ‘ever-burning coal’, were you?” He showed one of the painted rocks with a part broken off, showing the gray center.

“Alright, you got me, I was trying to pull one over on you, you’ve gotta know it’s a common thing around here, that’s the game, and you won! I’ll pay you back with 50% extra, promise.”

The coal baron took a step forward, smirking at Lawrence dropping the façade he’d adopted when speaking to him. “I see, but I think I have a better idea of how you could… reward me for this “win”. Would you mind telling me how you got that fire to keep burning that long?”

“It was the alcohol!” Lawrence sputtered out, “I-it is mixed with a slower burning substance that kept it bright longer!”

“Seize his hands, please.” The two bodyguards grabbed onto Lawrence’s arms, he was shoved to the ground, bruising his chin and getting his arms held behind his back, his left glove was pulled off, revealing crimson-red fingers.

“Ah, the devil’s hand, I suspected it when I noticed your gloves were the only thing you wore on both occasions where we met, so I think I know a way you can repay me even better:” Evans put his foot on top of Lawrence’s head, pressing it to the floor. “You see, I happen to know there’s a 500 pound reward for capturing your kind, dead or alive, so along with taking back the money you stole from me, I’ll be making quite a big profit.

Lawrence tried to look forward, find something he could do to escape, at the end of the alleyway, he could just barely see two girls in new clothes, one of them in a wheelchair, maybe it was Agatha and Ursa! They could help him, right? No, he left them before, and maybe they even knew he’d lowballed them, why would they risk their lives for someone like him?

“Anything to say for yourself, monster? Aren’t you gonna squirm some more? Or can you at least face death like a man”

He couldn’t find anything, after all, he’d tried everything before, nobody ever listened, ever saw him like a person after knowing what his hands meant, they called him a living timebomb, a danger to society, he’d grown used to it by now, he could try to burn them all to death, become fitting of his description, use this supposed power that had made him a target all his life…

Before he could finish weighing if he’d rather risk trying to escape while they dragged him to the local precinct or give up on trying to subvert their judgment of him by just leaning into the raging fire, the weight over his body suddenly disappeared as Ursa launched her whole body with a burst of steam it into Robert Evans, her elbow connecting with his back and the force throwing him into his bodyguards and knocking them off their feet.

“Can you run?” she crouched down and asked him while untying his wrists.

“Certainly better than the alternative.” Lawrence answered, already getting up onto his knees and putting his gloves back on.

They ran out of the alley and Lawrence followed Ursa as she wheeled Agatha out of town and towards the nearby woods, he didn’t know where they were going but if they had a route to get away from here it certainly beat staying.

When they came to a clearing, the young man had a hard time believing what he saw, a two wagon train in the middle of a forest.

“Get in!” Said Ursa, lifting Agatha’s chair onto the train as Lawrence followed them inside

“I don’t know if I can give it liftoff, last time we were already in the air when it manifested.” Agatha went to the train’s caboose and lifted herself to the conductor’s chair, focusing on visualizing the train in flight as she’d seen before. The train started moving as its tracks began to form, but it couldn’t quite accelerate quick enough to beat the upwards incline, the boiler made a roaring noise, like a starved tiger crying out in rage.

“Shit, I forgot to get any actual coal while we were out!” said Ursa, looking for something flammable she could part with, maybe they’d have enough time before someone came for Lawrence to go out and cut down some trees.

Lawrence clutched his own arms, hesitating a bit to do something he knew would be an unnecessary risk, but he owed at least some help to these people, right? “You’ve already collected the necessary water for the boiler right?”

“Yes, we’ve even already filled it, we just need a flame to light it,” replied Agatha, still concentrating on trying to move the train through her sheer will.

Lawrence pulled back his sleeves, he didn’t want to burn them with an effort this large, he extended his hands into the boiler and flames entirely engulfed the inside of it, barely licking at his forearms. The heat quickly started transforming the water in the boiler into steam, launching the train into motion forwards and upwards.

Agatha and Ursa stared at Lawrence’s hands, marveling at the beauty of the flames and their incredible power before Agatha had to focus on guiding her machine and Ursa had to hold on to avoid falling over from the sudden acceleration.

 After they’d picked up some good altitude and speed, Lawrence pulled his hands out of the boiler and turned to look out the window, seeing the world from above for the first time, right here, it felt like nobody could hurt him, no one could look down or him or hunt him down for a strange birthmark he never asked for, it was beautiful.

“So…” He turned to Agatha, “how long can I stay here, could you at least drop me off at the next town you come to?”

“Oh.” Agatha didn’t turn away from the blue sky she was plowing through, “You may leave if you’d like, sir, but you’re welcome to stay as well.”

Lawrence did a double-take, why would anybody take this risk? Put their own lives at stake sheltering a man who could never not be a target for the rest of his life? “Really”

Ursa came up to him, tapping him on the shoulder, “yeah man, we’re not throwing you back out there.” She pointed at the town, now tiny from the window of the train.

Lawrence smiled, putting his forearm in front of his eyes, maybe to shelter them from the sun, or to shelter himself from showing his watery eyes.

“Thank you.”

[springtimebat]

A Family of Draculas

Chapter Three: Wasp Eyes

My child wasn’t human. He never was. He never could be.

He arrived on a grey day in Autumn, when the winds were particularly strong. He was born with cloth ears and button eyes. I lifted him into my arms and he gurgled, his felt lips stretching into a stitched grin. His stumpy legs kicked my side with a strange giddiness, as if he’d known me for a long time and was greeting an old friend instead of his mother. Curled up between his legs was a tail, scaly and pointed. He lifted it high into the air and allowed me to stroke it.

“I’ve made a demon,” I chuckled. The baby, small and comfortable in my arms, gurgled in agreement. Mrs Darling, completely forgotten and left in a dark corner of the house, suddenly gave an exasperated groan.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Mrs Darling grumbled, “Children are thoughtless creatures. Sometimes they get your hopes up, sourdough. Then they’re born and they are...bitter disappointments.”

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience,” I grinned, tickling my baby’s tummy.

“I don’t need experience,” The old lady huffed, “I know enough parents to know that baby will be more trouble than it's worth.”

“The only child you’ve ever liked is me ma'am. At least, I think you like me.”

Mrs Darling looked at me and, suddenly, her eyes didn’t seem to fit her face, which was all boils, warts and scars. Her eyes were that of a small child’s, wide and longing.

“Sometimes,” She started, and she now gazed at the son in my arms, not directly at me. It seemed she didn’t have the strength, “Sometimes...you seem far older that you appear to be... sometimes you even seem older than me. Your father was like that.”

“I guess it’s just in my nature then,” I sighed, hoping to change the subject. The witch never liked to talk about the Unicorn. My father always made the old woman sad and wistful. I looked down at my baby again. He seemed bigger than before and his eyes were slowly opening to the light.

“Look ma’am!” I gasped, holding my son up to the sky, “His eyes! Look at his eyes!”

“His eyes?”

“They’re glowing! They’re yellow! As yellow as a lamplight!”

“Yes. Indeed they are.”

“I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“I did. I saw eyes like that once.”

“Where?”

“Your father’s pair. He has his grandfather’s eyes,”

I stilled, “We don’t have to talk about him if you don’t want to.”

The witch was quiet for a moment. Then she turned to the front door, tears in her eyes.

“I think I’ll go out for a walk,” Was all she said.

And, just like that, she vanished into the woods.

I growled in frustration and held my baby tighter. He began to struggle against my chest and gave a little cry that reminded me of the birds that sang on the roof at night.

“ They say that those birds are the souls of the departed, travelling to the lonely places of the world,” I whispered, setting the baby down on the floor, “What if I cried like that as a babe? No wonder my father gave me up!”

I wrapped the boy in an old blanket, pushing him onto my knees as the clouds shifted outside.

“She’s gonna catch a cold out there,” I muttered to the silent room, “She’ll catch a horrible cold and she’ll blame me.”

My son giggled and grabbed my forefinger with a chubby fist. His hands were manufactured out of different strands of felt, cloth and cotton, just like his face. But his fingers seemed to have melted, fused together . They were unable to move fluidly. He tried his best though, struggling to keep a grip on my flesh. I grinned as his brow furrowed in frustration.

“I should really give you a name,” I whispered, “I can’t just keep calling you The Boy or Wasp Eyes can I?”

He gave a little nod, directing my thumb up to his mouth.

“Huh, you have no teeth. Fancy that. You’re just like a sock puppet. I guess I could name you after your father...you do kind of resemble him, no matter what that old hag believes.”

The baby gave a small yawn, too focused on my hand to care.

“Fricorith’s a fine name. I don’t know what it means but I’m sure it’s something sweet. I tried looking it up in the books I could find but it was never there. It was as if the name never existed. As if the man had been erased.”

Our son pulled away from my hand and lay back in my lap, his golden eyes straining, trying to keep open.

“Your father’s gone, tired old thing,” I smiled, “It’s ok. We can think of a name later.”

I rocked him with one hand and adjusted the blankets with another. Thunder pierced the sullen ground outside and my bundle whimpered against me. I grabbed onto his hand tighter and stooped over in the dark, more shadow than flesh and bone in these long night hours. A phantom. That’s what I was. Motherhood overtook me.

“It looks like she’s gonna be a long time. She hasn’t even come back to avoid the rain. She intends to get the flu. There’s no doubt about it.”

I stroked my son’s hair, a mixture of real baby curls and matted braids. He began to toss and turn in his nest, clearly tired but too nervous to sleep. It was a feeling I knew all too well, sleeping alone for months with only the corpse cradle for company.

“You really need to sleep, little guy,” I sighed, formulating a plan, “What if momma tells you a story? Will you sleep then?”

He stopped wrestling with the sheets and gave an anxious nod, looking about the room for any monsters.

“Very well. This is the story of the Witch and the Unicorn.”

{The Witch and The Unicorn: A Bedtime story for Ragchildren}

Once, long before you were born, a Witch and a Unicorn met at a bar.

The Witch was withering away by the fires, as she often tended to do. Her job was to rake her claws among the glowing coals and fly with the smoke out of chimneys. This evening, the witch had a night off from ember work. Yet, she seemed transfixed by their wonders still, hoarding its light from ordinary folk. She knew something was coming. Something special was coming to her.

Midnight passed by and the Unicorn entered through a back door. He hadn’t slept in days, his skin was a pale silver and his hair a long plait down his back. Yet, he continued to attract merchants, thieves and hustlers, who clutched scissors and desired his hair, his limbs, his moon-white eyes. People who wished to see him taken apart in jars. Because of this, he hid in the Witch’s smoke and the bar’s natural smog. He sat before the old woman, kneeling in ashes, frozen as if he were a statue made out of marble. The two had never met, only heard of the other through strange songs and wishes caught on wild winds. The Witch stared at the Unicorn with young eyes, her heart beginning to strain. The Unicorn watched the Witch with contempt, sick of being gawked at by people who were not worthy to.

No introductions were made. But a conversation took place.

“I have a girl.” The Unicorn said.

“Do you now?”

“Yes. She is four months old. She will be five months old next Thursday.”

“Fascinating.”

“She holds lightning inside of her.”

Silencio. The Witch continued to gawk, uncaring of proper etiquette.

“And I’m sure my blood flows through my veins.”

“Mhmm. Why are you telling me this?”

“I heard that you are interested in bringing on a ward. A ward that you could teach them magic.”

“I may be thinking of doing so in the future. Why, dear thing, would you want to give away your daughter to me?”

“The girl will hate me. It will hate me for what I’ve done.”

“The mother-”

“Dead. Not gone. Just dead.”

“I see.”

“She died with the boy nestling into her. She died delivering.”

“The boy?”

“The other twin. We had twins. The boy died hours after. He had fur, silver fur.”

“Does the girl-”

“She’s just like her except for her abilities. She sings and the wolves feed her for me.”

“The Corpse Cradle will crave her.”

“She will be able to support herself in time. Those first few years... she will need help in those first few years. These are my terms. You must promise her your protection.”

“Very well, luvvie. I’ll take her off your hands.”

“How will I find you again?”

“Just send her to me with chalk on her feet.”

“Thank you.”

“You may visit if you wish, my dear.”

The Unicorn said nothing.

“If you wish it, luvvie.”

“We’ll see, old woman.”

A few days later, the Witch brought a small girl into the woods. A baby who enchanted wolves and seduced the trees before she was even able to speak. She offered to pay but the girl’s father didn’t care for money. And so, the girl was brought up to live in the woods, to feed and placate all the eeries things of the world. Eventually, she became an eerie creature herself.

The girl never saw her father again.

{Exeunt}

The Corpse Cradle let out a hysterical cackle as I finished the story, thrusting mismatched fingers and toes out of separate fleshes.

“Laugh all you want,” I growled, “It got the baby to sleep.”

At mention of the baby, the cradle made a disgusting slapping noise with its teeth and one of its stomachs twisted inside out.

“Don’t do that, it’s unbecoming. Besides, it won’t get you anywhere. You will never touch him. I’ll kill you before you ever touch him.”

The Cradle groaned and flipped onto its side, its bulbous veins pulsing underneath their skin. I rolled my eyes, shifting on the dirty floor. The baby mumbled in his slumber and rolled around in his makeshift bed.

“I wish he was here,” I mumbled to myself, “I wish he could see the baby.”

I turned back to the Corpse Cradle, eyes narrowed.

“But he’s not. He’s never coming back and it’s all your fault.”

I waited for a laugh, or a groan; any signs of life. Instead, the creature stayed silent, feigning sleep.

Rolling my eyes, I clutched my baby tighter, pulling him to my chest like a shield.

“They’re not gonna get to you, Wasp Eyes. I’ll die before anyone gets you.”

We fell asleep, curled up together on the floor, and dreamed of wild winds and Unicorns. The Corpse Cradle watched us from the dark, its domain seeming more and more like prison bars as the hours flew by.

[ktheist]

twelve.

chapters:  11 / 12 / 13 

knight!jungkook x princess!reader

x

“Your highness!” Eunha, your new maid, calls and at some point, you think she might have tried to run after you but proved to be no match for your legs. The same legs that have carried you into battlefield, slashing through the bodies of your enemies who might have been her father, brother or cousin just less than six months ago when your kingdoms were at war.

Blood was spilled and lives were lost.

It might be Taehyung’s tonight, as you found out about the shocking revelation Eunha blissfully mentioned of the unfortunate tale of a royal guard stealing the Prince and Princess’ dinner in the royal kitchen. To feed the son of a farmer that came to deliver some goods.

The Prince had saw it and ordered for him to be locked in the top cell of the left wing in isolation. Contempt of the royal family. Shameful. Disgraceful. Or so they say but your only take away was a emphatic, compassionate officer doing what the crown should have.

The ice cold prickles of the marble floor soon turns into roughed, dirt ground as you ascend the swirly staircase. On any other occasion, you would have preferred to take your time reaching the top, being well aware that the architecture is bound to unbalance you greatly but not tonight.

Tonight, your mind is fixed on a single goal. A wishful thinking perhaps.

“You dare lay your hands on your future Queen.” The hardened gaze you give the guard that tried to apprehend you is fierce and strict but the pendant of the royal family’s emblem is probably what made him retreat and bow.

“B-but your highness, the prince -” he fumbles with his words, legs almost caving under. You suspect if you’d tip him over, he’ll go tumbling down the stairs.

“Take this.” You barely manage to swallow the bile on your throat as you yank the pendant off your neck. The spot between your cleavage where it lied feels as heavy as your heart for what you’re about to do. “It’s worth enough to sustain your whole family for the next winter.”

One heartbeat. Two heartbeat. He hands out his hand on the third, head hung low as though he couldn’t bear to witness the beginning of his disloyalty towards his King.

And he shall learn, one way or another, that the crown he so devotedly serves has close to no care for its people.

Though the King seems more humane than his wife and son, the war that doomed your country could not have happened if he had not approved it.

“Jungkook!”

The words left you before you even manage to step into the cell that’s barely a quarter the size of your chambers where a wall-sized window permeated endless source of light and gorgeous view of the garden while a squared hole in the wall is the only thing keeping this god forsaken prison without light. Somewhere in the corner, the fire of a candle waves at the presence of an additional company.

His arms are skinnier than you remember when he gathers you in a longing embrace yet the strength of his hold does not change. It’s the same hold that offers you security and support on nights you are at your most fragile.

“Princess,” the hoarseness in his voice breaks your heart, “how did you get here?”

Calling for the guard that’s stood outside, you order for him to sneak into the worker’s kitchen, “get some water and some bread. plenty of those - oh for heaven’s sake go! we’re not going to run away!”

Jungkook cups your face and wipes away the tears you didn’t know were falling down your cheeks like waterfall. The fingerpads of his hand feels more callous than the last time he caresses your face as you fall asleep but the roughness affirms more than ever that this isn’t just some dream like the many dreams you’ve had of being reunited with your knight.

“Forgive me,” you hiccup, “I-I didn’t know -”

He presses your face into the crook between his neck and shoulder where you find solace in his warmth as he rocks you back and forth, hushed whispers spoken into your ears.

You didn’t want to let go when the scrawny guard comes bursting into the minute prison with what you asked for, cowering backwards when he sees the sight of his soon-to-be Queen in the arms of a man who’s not his Crown Prince.

At the very least though, Jungkook manages to find humor in your childlike tantrum. The vibration of the laugh all too familiar yet surreal.

“You’ve just found me alive, don’t you want to keep it like that?’ He bargains, receiving a smack on his chest at any notion of death doing you apart.

“It’s not funny.”

He pulls the tray left by the guard a few feet away from his feet, relishing in freshly made bread and taking generous gulps of water from the bucket that comes with the sustenance.

All the while, his left hand is always touching you in some way, be it around your shoulders or presently, interlocked with your right hand.

“Let’s run away,” by dawn, you’ve calmed down enough to find yourselves in each others’ arms, lain on a straw mat on the dirtied ground, “you and me.”

“Princess,” Jungkook’s thumb is on your chin and you’re forced to look into those brown eyes that holds nothing but gentleness, “you were born for something so great that to succumb to your wish to run away would be a crime.”

“It’s my only wish,” you clutch a handful of his shirt on his chest, it feels odd not having the coldness of the armor shock you anymore yet this way, you can feel his beating heart if the world is quiet enough.

“It’s the one wish I cannot grant you,” he sits up, hand covering yours as though he’s begging you not to implore, “will I see you tonight?”

He presses his lips to yours when you take a bit too long to answer. It’s too easy to lose yourself in his arms when he’s holding you so close. Yet the thought of what will happen once you step out of this prison makes your chest tighten and the line of your shoulder a little straighter.

“We’re not done discussing this.”

He waves you off with a smile that says every parting is a goodbye. Every sneaking in is an surety hung loosely over the promises of a bag of shillings for the young guard whose name you learned is Beomgyu.

Your nights are spent sneaking past the guards (a specialty honed from your younger days in your own castle) and your mornings are spent with the family you wed into and the council.

Until one day, a messenger boy comes bursting into your study as you discuss the betterment of the political status between the Southern and Northern Kingdoms. 

The mountain people have accepted the treaty in exchange for fur coats, breads and horses. The King, at the news, roared with laughter as he brought the silver chalice to the air.

“A toast to my dearest daughter,” he nods at you, “for achieving peace since my great great-grandfather’s rule and even then, it was my great great grandmother who struck the treaty.” 

“To her highness,” Sir Park is the first to break the silence, joined by the rest of the councils but not without suppressed sneers and back-handed compliments.

The chair on the other end screeches as the butler hurriedly rushes over to pull it off the marble floor.

“Since my son has found the best of wife,” he says over the celebrating crowd as chatters die down, “a coronation for the new Queen and King to take the throne shall be held in three month’s time.”

A pause.

“I’m unwell,” the Queen looks at you sharply before she meets her King’s concerned gaze, “allow me to retreat to my chambers.”

Less than a minute later, Taehyung stands, dropping the crisp white napkin on the table. The only sound echoing off the walls are his footsteps tapping against the floor almost as mocking as his retreat.

The King clears his throat and smiled with a sort of practiced glee that could have fooled the highest of nobles, “eat, drink, celebrate! For we have a busy month ahead of us.”

But you’re both of royal blood and you’ve once borne a weight of a crown.

The wide, a deep red, swirls in a minute whirlwind within the chalice as before you shoot the King a smile and bring the chalice to your lips.

x

“Your highness,” you stop a few feet from your door where a familiar face is leaning against, chatting up one of the maids whose luck is the poorest to have caught him there at the wrong time, “what brings you to my chambers?”

The maid drops her gaze, a meek greeting shot your way before she practically runs to the opposite direction.

“You dare lock your chambers from your husband?” He looks past you to your Seulgi who has assumed a post as your lady-in-waiting. She remains in her spot until you signal for her to unlock it.

“When I tell you to do something, you do it,” he whispers to her between the clicking of keys before she pushes the door open, head hung low as though she hadn’t heard a thing.

You cover your hand with yours for the briefest seconds before trailing behind him into your room. The curtains are drawn apart, moon light pouring onto the intricate design of the Indian carpet.

“You’re stepping out of line, princess,” fingers curl around your delicate wrist as the doors creak to a shut, “be a good little trophy wife and cease your meddling in the politics of my kingdom.”

“I should not have to if you’d do your job properly.” You maintain the smirk spread across your glossed lips as you attempt to shove him away.

The frown lines on his face eases into a nasty smirk. The one you wish to slap off since the day you’ve encountered. It’s short-lived as the corners of his mouth turns down.

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten,” even with the mask of hurt he wears on that devastatingly handsome face, it’s still not enough to conceal the ugly little head of where he derives his humor from, “that once I’m the King and you the Queen, we are expected to be with a child. A royal blood to unite the two kingdoms once and for all.” 

His grip tightens, those dark eyes harbor the same kind of menace of the man who rode on his horse and ordered for your head during the war. The mere recollection of blood, fire and the condition of your own knight makes you want to vomit.

Arching your knee upwards, you take a step backwards as he doubles over, wheezing.

“You wench,” he sneers once he’s gathered his breath and the remnants of his pride, “wait til I become King-”

“King?” A scoff escapes your lips, “battles and wars are your forte, I admit but it takes a man to rule a kingdom and unfortunately you’re half of a man than the stable boys.”

The bellows for the guards almost allows him to pass as a mad man. Truly feral and uncontrolled like the beast that set fire to your people’s houses and burned the harvest of your kingdom.

“Your highness,” Eunha rushes to your side as three guards march towards Taehyung, Seulgi standing a few feet away.

“Get my sword and one for my darling wife,” nimble hand pulls apart the ruff of his collar before he tosses his jacket onto your bed, “it’s a beautiful night for a fence.”

x

It’s a losing game.

You knew since you unsheathed the sword of your family insignia - one of the many approaches the King had taken to make you feel at home. It’s your father’s father, passed on to your father and on your wedding day, passed to you and hung on the wall in the diner hall of your new home.

The weight isn’t made for a woman - as are many things that are deemed a man’s job. You prefer the sword you had custom made on your 20th birthday. The day your father promised he’d teach you how to wield a weapon but before he managed to hold a lesson for you, he’d fallen terribly ill.

Sending a prayer to your bed-ridden father, you leap at the smirking man, already knowing it’s far too heavy for you to counter his attack. One strike is at it takes for him to send your sword airborne and landing just inches from the fountain where a statue of the previous King stands gloriously.

“Yield,” the point of the blade catches the reflection of weary yet bloodthirsty eyes. It takes a moment for you to realize they do not belong to the monster who’s well able to drive it through your heart. It belongs to another kind of monster, yourself.

“You’d have to kill me first,” you say through gritted teeth despite your neck burning from craning upwards to look at him dead in the eye.

“Enough!” A flock of golden yellow enters your periphery, the delicate shrill is enough to tell who the colorful robe belongs to, “Taehyung, I raised you better than to point your sword at a woman!”

“But mother,” the man grunts, “she was -”

“I don’t care who did what,” she speaks over him, hardened gaze shifting from his son to you.

The weight of it is enough for you to want to cower into the corner and blend with the shadows yet you remain on your spot, back straightened, hands 

“Leave,” is all she says and it’s enough.

One by one, the guards and your maid begins to trickle out of the vicinity, rushed heels clacking against the floor until only the three of you are left.

She didn’t even bat an eye when her son bowed and started walking until you dip to a courtesy, “remain there.”

“Your majesty,” nodding once, you watch as she circles you like a predator before pulling out your sword from where it’s rooted.

“A princess does not go against a man in a sword fight,” the glint of the moonrays hits one of her eyes, painting it a treacherous golden brown, “not before she is crowned Queen.”

“With all due respect, your majesty, I do not want -”

“You will,” the robe flutters behind her as she spins, gracefully yet deadly, “you will want power. Command. Once you’ve lived long enough to lose yourself in this god forsaken place and I will not allow you to have any semblance of that in my castle. In my kingdom.”

“My Queen, your wisdom is misplaced. I’ve borne the weight of the crown and know a great deal of what it entitles,” you drop to a bow, “to be relieved of it is a luxury not many can afford. My apologies that you lost yourself along the way and forgot the cause you are to bear: your people. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

The air feels heavy, almost crushing with each step you take as the reverberating sound of your heels remind you how alone you are within these walls. The wall you’re leaned against as you clutch the thin peignoir on your chest, heaves of breath tumbling out erratically.

You’re not sure how long you’re slumped on the ground like that. Not long, you suppose. These walls, though barren, are not uninhabited. One of the footmen must have seen the lump of a person and came close enough to realize it’s you before he manages to shoo you away if you were a maid.

Eunha is on your side in no time. Gentle, slender arms around yours guiding you to your room. But those are not the arms you wish to be in right now.

x

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