#Planning to do a Nobody emblem one next

[recusant-s-sigil]

Made myself Xehanort’s version of Terra’s Mark

[phoenixkaptain]

Do you mind if I ask your top 10 favorite characters (can be male or female) from all of the media that you loved (can be anime/manga, books, movies or tv series)? And why do you love them? Sorry if you've answered this question before.....Thanks...

I think I have answered this question before, but I don’t mind because I like talking about ny favourite characters!

(And my favourite characters change hourly, so-)

I can’t rank them, I love them all equally, but my current favourites:

1. Luo Binghe from Scum Villain Self-Saving System. I can’t help it. Fanon likes to paint him as comical, at times, but I love how competent he is! He just… would like to be a housewife. Preferably his Shizun’s housewife… and, he is, as Shen Qingqiu says himself, the type of person to smile to your fave while sliding a knife in your back and I love that for him

2. Quan Yizhen from Heaven Official’s Blessing. He throws a bed at Pei Ming. He’s obsessed with his shixiong and beats up his own followers for badmouthing him. He’s smart enough to realize that everyone thinks he’s stupid, therefore he can use obvious tricks because nobody thinks he can fool them. There’s a scene where Xie Lian and Quan Yizhen both praise something for being beautiful (I think it was the Brocade Immortal’s fighting) and even Ling Wen is like “You know I’m trying to kill you right?” He’s great :)

3. Tim Drake from DC Comics. The third Robin, the one most similar to Batman, the world second greatest detective. Can sneak up on Superman and managed to stalk Batman. Was going through a lot and tried to clone his best friend. The quintessential perfectionist. I headcanon that he plans his dates out on corkboards and no one will convince me otherwise. Also, his relationship with Ra’s Al Ghul in his Red Robin run was comedy gold.

4. Artemis Fowl from the books of the same name (I’ve never seen the movie and like to pretend it doesn’t exist). Fakes his own death multiple times and steals gold from fairies and is altogether a criminal mastermind. There’s a scene in the first book where Holly Short (the other main character) tells him to stay put and she’ll bring him back a lollipop (mocking him). She leaves and he mutters “But I don’t like lollipops.” Also gets made fun of for having a girly name, which I can relate to since I was made fun of for having a masculine name.

5. Shen Qiao from Thousand Autumns. God, he’s just the best. He is absolutely infuriating. He has the patience of ten thousand men. Began the book waiting for him to snap, then realized that I didn’t want him to lose his temper because that would make Shen Qiao sad and Shen Qiao deserves all the happiness in the world. His martial brother pushed him off of a fucking mountain. Yan Wushi names a deer after him. Have you ever seen baby Shen Qiao? Qiao-er?? The cutest little fella, the sweetest bean, has never done anything wrong in his life.

6. Marth from the Fire Emblem series. There’s a scene in the remake of the first game where, after you recruit one of the characters during a fight, Marth can talk to him. The character is like “I understand if you don’t trust me.” Marth: “Why wouldn’t I trust you?” “I literally tried to kill you fifteen minutes ago.” Marth: “The past is in the past.” Marth is just the most polite boy. He was the first male character to be included in the FEH Bridal Event and he is… so cute…

7. Mara Jade from Star Wars. Specifically Mara Jade in the Thrawn trilogy. She is loyal to Karrde because he was nice to her. She wants to kill Luke so bad, but she can’t because if she doesn’t find out why he’s so weird before she kills him, she’ll never be at peace. Darth Vader’s coworker. “Who’s this “son of Vader” you keep mentioning?” -Mara Jade, while sitting next to the son of Vader they keep mentioning. Mirrors Anakin and I just love that for her (especially since he went good -> evil and she went evil -> good, they mirror each other babeyyy) She’s like “Are you sure you don’t want me to murder this creepy old guy?” The straightman in her and Luke’s relationship and it is so funny that the literal ex-Dark Jedi is the normal one.

8. Hiwatashi Nazuna from BNA. She is in love with Michiru. Anyone else: “Your agent is weird.” Nazuna: “Shut up you don’t know what you’re talking about.” Michiru: “Your agent is weird.” Nazuna: “You make a great point and I’m going to start distancing myself from him right away.” The trickiest trickster to ever trick trickers. She is willing to kill for Michiru and it’s honestly very relatable.

9. Kudou Shinichi from Detective Conan. The dumbest man alive. Also the most dramatic man alive. Obsessed with Sherlock Holmes and infodumps about him constantly. Is terrible at pretending to be a child, literally nobody is convinced, but Conan is so cute, how can they say no to him? Has the strongest moral compass of any character (aside from maybe Shen Qiao) and the world is lucky his moral compass is so strong, because if he decided to be evil, no one would be able to stop him. My favourite moments are the ones where innocent little Conan-kun smiles and says horribly dark things that even make the murderer scared. Absolutely terrifying, at seventeen and seven, good for him.

10. Tianlang-jun from Scum Villain Self-Saving System. I know it’s another character from Scum Villain, but hear me out. He is absolutely insane. He decides to destroy the world because everyone thought he wanted to. He barters with Su Xiyan over how attractive his face is. He asks Zhuzhi-lang if he thinks he’s ugly. He is a pure-hearted innocent maiden and also the most powerful character in the book. He only loses to Binghe because he was stuck under a mountain for over a decade, and his body is rejecting his demonic qi and falling apart. He makes a coffin look like a throne and is intimidating as fuck, then asks Shen Qingqiu to help him up and his arm pops off. And he just says “Dang. It happened again, Zhuzhi-lang.” My favourite red herring of all time, I just want to pat-pat his head.

These are the current ones. Shout-out to Yan Wushi from Thousand Autumns, who spends the entire novel fucking with Shen Qiao then has the terrible realization that he fell in love with Shen Qiao. Also, he made a very convincing woman. Also also, as I was looking through my notes on Thousand Autumns, I was reminded that he has the truly remarkable ability to ruin Shen Qiao’s reputation without even being present. Amazing! Second shout out to Bai Rong, also from Thousand Autumns, who gets a crush on Shen Qiao and offers to become his sugar daddy. A lot of characters try to seduce Shen Qiao, but Bai Rong was my favourite because she was just so… cute about it.

I like a lot of characters… Thank you for your ask :)

[roxannarambles]

Hello, saw this floating around and decided to fill it out, since I'm just chilling right now.

I don't really like tagging people, don't want them to feel on the spot, so if you see this, consider yourself tagged if you so desire. ^_^

20 Questions for Fic Writers

1. How many works do you have on A03?

At the moment, 24, but I have more posted to my Tumblr than I do a03. I prefer it here (although the audience is smaller)

2. What's your total A03 word count?

Kind of an odd question. 479,942. I guess this is supposed to be flexing? But I really do feel like it's not the quantity that matters, it's the quality.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

In the past, many. (I didn't write for all of em but here's some of my previous fandoms) Currently I write for Pokemon.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

For complete fics, the top spots belong to some Owl House fics, the next is a short Breath of the Wild Sidlink fic, the next is my Legault/Heath Fire Emblem story, and then a compilation of Moomin stories for a Snufmin Week.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes. In my FF.net days, the norm seemed to be not to respond to comments. But these days, responding to comments seems to be the new norm. Besides, it's nice to thank people for taking the time out of their day to comment and for being such lovely human beings. Even if it IS really hard for me to think of how to thank them without sounding like a buffoooooon (I take a while to get around to it sometimes argh)

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I have never done that. I want hopeful stories because they give me hope. I think the world needs more of that right now.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

How do you even judge that? Sorry I gotta skip this one, I have no clue

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Very rarely. In Owl House fandom, there are two characters who are not biologically related, did not grow up together, do not share a parental figure, and are not familial in any capacity. However, because a large number of fans have decided they have a "sibling vibe," they've concluded that shipping them together is vile and anyone who does so should be witch-hunted, harassed, slandered, doxxed, and worse. So, I got hate for that occasionally! That's about it, though.

9. Do you write smut?

I did once. Never again, lol

10. Do you write crossovers?

I wrote a Moomin/Deltarune crossover for a while. Nobody read it, though. A shame, it was fun.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Why would you steal a fic? Well, it's the internet, I guess you see just about everything online eventually, but I've never even heard of that. Art theft? Sure. Usually so the person can scam folks into commissioning them. Fic theft though? Nope. That's a new one for me. This is not an invitation for folks to try it out, lol

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Somebody asked me permission once to do that! I told them yes. I never heard back from them though.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

A lifetime ago I did a round-robin fic with my friends. I don't think I could co-write a fic now though, honestly. I'm so very picky about my headcanons. I would be horrible to work with.

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Man, that's tough. I guess probably Mulder/Scully (see question 19) just because it was my first ship and left such an impression on me.

15. What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

'Second Chances.' It was such a cute story and so FUN. People loved it too. And I had it all planned out. But I left Owl House fandom before completing it. I never will return to it, I am too bitter with the final season of the show and the mainstream fans are also very tiresome to deal with.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Hmm. I'm getting to be pretty good at outlining things and figuring out the story's structure. tbh ~90% of my story is often done before I even start my first draft, either due to the vivid daydreams I have, trying stuff out and then trying different things out in my head (& the notes I take on said daydreams) or the progressively more specific outlines as I work things out. That said, there's definitely still stuff that simply does not work on paper that seemed so good in your head. And there's a lot of magic that just seems to spontaneously happen while writing the actual draft out, and it's so important to stay open to that. Whoops I am rambling. I guess in summary my strength is finding a satisfying ratio of outlining stuff vs. staying open to ideas and letting the story lead me in the direction it wants to go.

Also I think I'm pretty good at dialogue. Action/scene description is harder for me, but dialogue feels easy.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

My ideas tend to be very Big. I have great difficulty writing shorter stories. This sucks because I do not have limitless time and energy and I can sometimes bite off more than I can chew. I would love to write shorter stories so I can try out a larger number of ideas. I also want to improve my prose, I need some more variety in there, imo.

My primary weakness, though, is I only write as a form of escapism when I feel depressed. I want a healthier relationship with my writing and with fandom. Basically, I need to learn how to do things casually, to not let an interest consume me completely. I'll let you know if I figure out how to do that, no luck so far.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I'm a boring monolingual. I'm not going to write in another language unless I know at least a little about it. Toss in a few phrases or sentences, sure, but nothing more than that.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

The X-Files. I was a Mulder/Scully shipper. We called it MSR back then, MulderScullyRomance. I was a young lass back then, and it was my induction to shipping and romance. I loved them because they had fantastic chemistry and a strong partnership built on trust and mutual respect, despite their differing worldviews and interests. Also because I really really liked Scully.

20. Favorite fic you've ever written?

Hmmmmm. Tough to choose. I really like "Acquired Taste" because it was the first really long fan fiction I wrote and finished. (At least, I think? I had a long Stargate fic back in the day but we don't speak of that) And I wrote it after a really long break from writing fic (years and years). It has a very special place in my heart.

Is it my best work, though? Mmm. Not sure. I'm also pretty fond of "Ships That Pass in the Night," my longest work. I put my heart and soul into it and got so many comments/interactions, and it has a lot of happy memories.

I also really like some super short stories of mine, though. This one is 613 words long but I feel like it says everything my longer stories on Julinemo do. I also loved writing Support Conversations for Fire Emblem which force you to tell as much as you can in such an incredibly short format. (GBA-era Fire Emblem) I am so proud of those, they pushed me a lot as a writer.

I also like the fics I've done that are mostly genfic, because again, they involved trying something new. They tend to be my least popular 'cause ships reign supreme I guess. That's fine though, that's just the way fic writing goes.

[angelicamerlinbarnes]

Severus Snape being an awesome teacher and human being

Au Volant - Elsa & Emilie

He makes sure to let students work on their own when they brew Amortentia. They only have to pass in a list of things they smell and he draws little smiley faces on them because he knows a lot of kids are very insecure about their feelings. (Once a kid passed in a list that just said, I’m sorry Professor but it doesn’t smell like anything, and on their paper Severus drew an ace and aro flag and a time for the student to be at Mcgonogall’s office that weekend for tea, along with a smiley face and an O grade.) (The student was Newt.) (Hailee’s just read, People are gross and if I fall in love with one I want you to kill me, to which Severus responded, Valid, and drew her a picture of a turtle.)

He makes fake batches of Felix Felicis and gives one to every student secretly before their O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s so they feel extra confident going into the test but aren’t actually cheating.

He knows his area is Potions, but he teaches defense spells to students who come after class or report bullying anonymously. Severus Snape does not fucking stand for bullying in his classroom or outside of it. If you dare to pick on one of his students, he will burn you so hard with his mere words that you will wish you were dead. Do not fuck with Severus Snape’s kids.

On parent-teacher day, he drinks different batches of Polyjuice Potion to imitate certain students, all of whom hide away in their dorms after drinking a fine batch of invisibility potion. He then follows these select parents around and endures their horrifying, demeaning remarks about their “failure of a child” so his students don’t have to. He makes sure to give these students glowing praises to their parents when it’s his turn to offer feedback (after making up an excuse to go to the bathroom as the student), and takes mental notes of the parents’ most prominent criticisms so he can be sure to compliment those parts of his students during their next assignments (and also just because).

He brews sleeping potions for students he knows stay up all night studying and sometimes slips it into their drinks if they refuse to take it willingly. He then gives them back their (usually almost flawless) tests with the note that if they want a full O they need to sleep more.

He invites kids he knows don’t have many friends to have dinner and lunch and breakfast in his classroom whenever they’d like. He tries to make friends with some of them too, hoping to make their lives a little less lonely than his was.

He keeps an eye out for abusive home situations. He does his best to come up with excuses for those unfortunate students to stay at Hogwarts over breaks or to visit often over the summer. He tries to find them friends that will help them the way James helped Sirius and Regulus, and speaks to Mcgonogall about opening a home for these kids on campus. He does his best to be the parent he knows these kids don’t have, and is open about his own horrid past in hopes of getting some of them to fess up so he can help them better than he can without hearing it explicitly from their mouths.

He uses his Pensieve to collect happy memories of and for his students to reflect on when they need to and they sit in the corner of his classroom. (Among them are his wedding day to James and Lily, the day Harry was born, a couple playdates with the other Marauder children, Sirius and Remus’ wedding day, studying with Remus, pranking James with Sirius, Sirius and James asleep cuddled together with Remus on the couch in ugly Christmas sweaters, his son and many nieces and nephews playing dress-up, reading with Hermione and exploring with Luna and Newt, dancing with Draco (he likes to dance but was always ashamed to do it at the Malfoys), going on long drives with Regulus, the Blacks’ funeral (Regulus and Sirius performed a very gay stripper dance on top of their graves, it was beautiful), and many, many more.) Sometimes he can see his saddest students watching them and smiling, and their sad eyes twinkling make him smile.

He brings in a box of small kittens, puppies, and bunnies one day and lets them wander around the classroom. Some kids start crying because they haven’t felt this loved in years. After an incident with a bad potion and a rainbow puppy, he stops bringing them all out during class, but they’re there on the weekends and whenever a student needs to hug one (or borrow one, much to Mcgonogall’s chagrin).

He works to break down House biases and help students develop inter-House relationships and friendships. He wants every student to be proud of their House and not to treat anyone differently because of theirs. He creates (with Dumbledore, Sirius, and Regulus’ help) an annual House Pride, in which every student dresses up in their House colors and has their nails and skin painted and everyone is smiling and laughing and waving flags with their House emblems in the air. Even the teachers get in on it.

He stresses the importance of friendships, communication, and choices. He urges students not to make his mistakes by treating their friends well, talking about their feelings even if they’re ugly, and making the right choices in life for you and your loved ones, even if those choices are hard. He invites Lily in to talk about this too sometimes.

He sends out his Patronus every night to wander around the school. Often it comes back to him with nothing, but sometimes he can hear a student crying through it. He’ll instruct his doe to sit with the student until he gets there, and then he’ll walk around the castle, pretending to “accidentally” happen upon the crying student. He’ll sit with them until they’ve calmed down and listen if they want to talk and then take them to their dorm, bidding them goodnight and get well soon.

He gives students hugs when they want them. He didn’t want to originally, but Harry would greet him every class with a hug, and then one day Draco came in crying and attached himself to Severus like a sloth, so he patted him on the back and continued to hug him. Not long after, Hermione couldn’t figure out a potion and burst into tears out of frustration, turning and burying herself in his chest. After Luna wrapped her stick arms around his neck for no reason, Severus just accepted his fate and let his students hug him.

A lot of first years get scared in the hallways, since the staircases move and everywhere is incredibly crowded and they are oh so very small. Severus will often hold the hand of the most anxious ones for the first few weeks and walk them to class. Eventually they become more confident with the castle and themselves and stop needing it, but the occasional sixth year will slip their hand into his just because sometimes.

He walks around campus with students sometimes. He can tell when they’re nervous or sad or angry and he takes them on walks around the outskirts of campus and lets them vent. He also teaches them how to throw curses at the Whomping Willow just because (it’s for Remus but nobody’s gonna say it out loud).

He teaches students how to walk dramatically (as he should). He puts on student drag shows in the Great Hall with James’ help (who always kisses him way too enthusiastically because of it) and Dumbledore’s permission (so long as he gets to be the finale). The students work with Sirius on their drag looks and Sirius and Remus both join in the drag show for the opening act. Sirius’ job is to design and create the students’ looks while Remus tells them they look pretty and tames their stage fright. Severus just sits in the audience smirking while Lily screams in delight. (Regulus also shrieks with excitement eventually, though he does usually spend the first half trying to look disinterested.) (Peter’s job is to get the cookies and sweets (and underage alcohol).)

He turns into his snake Animagus form sometimes without warning when his students aren’t looking and just slithers around the classroom scaring the crap out of people. His favorite students are the ones brave enough to pet him. Harry and Newt are the only ones brave enough (and allowed) to wind him around their shoulders. Severus and Harry sometimes have conversations in Parseltongue.

He invents spells to help with dyslexia and other learning disabilities in his spare time. When he’s done with that he plans to try looking into some cures to mental illness. He’s thinking possibly a potion that treats PTSD by replacing traumatic memories with pictures of puppies, unicorns, bunnies, cats, and parrots. What do you think?

He tries hard to come up with solutions and modifications to his lessons for students with ADHD. He often talks to James about what the best steps to take are because James has ADHD. (So does Sirius, but his insecurities are bad enough that he won’t talk about it with anyone but Remus and James.)

He plays the violin sometimes during tests and uses Sonorus to make it echo throughout the classroom. Occasionally he cancels class and just plays until most of his students fall asleep. Those who want to work on extra work can, but he tries to keep their stress and general teenage angst to a minimum. (Though he encourages the emo phase.)

One of the first things he does after the Prank is get to work on a lycanthropy solution for Remus. After a couple years he invents the wolfsbane potion, but it doesn’t quite do the trick. Eventually he manages to figure out the cure, and when Remus finds out he cries so hard he can’t breathe right for days. (Sirius also cries. So does James. And Peter. And Lily and Regulus and Mcgonogall. Seriously, everyone cried and everyone hugged him and Severus tried to get away by transforming into his snake form but toddler Harry just grabbed him and refused to let go, so that didn’t work.) (He also helps Remus become a wolf Animagus when he asks almost a year later.)

He teaches certain kids Occlumency and Legilimency after school. It’s strictly for kids he knows come from abusive homes, whether they’re open about it or not, so they can tell when it’s going to be a bad night and get away or protect themselves. He teaches Occlumency for those who need to hide things from their parents (like Sirius and Regulus used to) and Legilimency to all, just in case. He focuses on stealth and untraceable versions of the craft to earn the kids as much time and protection as he can.

He figures out how to remove the Dark Mark from his own arm after the war. The next person he calls is Regulus, whose he also removes. He writes down the entire process and when the war starts up again, he keeps an eye out for students suddenly wearing long sleeves. He speaks with those he does find and helps them to make the right choice and join the right side of the war, starting with removing that horrid tattoo. (Draco bawls uncontrollably when Severus removes his.)

When they do the lesson on Veritaserum, he’s extra careful to make sure students don’t test it, especially on themselves or their friends. It, along with Amortentia, is the most guarded potion in his stash. The only times he uses it is when a student from an abusive home is too scared to tell him what’s going on, in which case he finds them somewhere private, asks them if they’d be okay with it and if so which teacher they want to be there to ask the questions (usually Remus, Sirius, or himself), and then administers the potion and leaves or begins to ask yes or no questions. It’s helped a lot of kids escape their families.

He tries to ease trepidations about himself early in the school year, since he’s aware he can be intimidating and the rampant stories regarding his time under Voldemort (though entirely as a spy) do not help. His friendships with Remus and Sirius often serve to alleviate students’ fears though, as they tend to tell embarrassing stories about him from their own Hogwarts days that make him seem more human (and make him want to strangle them, but that’s neither here nor there).

Every year, he works with Remus and Lily to arrange Muggleborn Pride. It’s an incredibly popular event with tons of Muggle inventions and artifacts floating through the air over students’ heads. At any time they can reach up and pull one down to study it. Many students dress as their favorite Muggle icons and characters. Because of this, Muggleborn students are more comfortable being who they are than ever before. (Some have even reclaimed the word Mudblood by setting up mud pits during their Pride.) (They also have more Slytherin Muggleborns now than any other time in recorded history.)

He tells Regulus’ story to every class of students, to teach them what true bravery is and how love and family, even if not blood, can change the course of history. Regulus survived his encounter with the Horcruxes and worked to destroy them and eventually Voldemort, but now lives away from the public eye in a secluded part of Muggle London. He and Severus are friends and visit often, and Regulus will occasionally come back to Hogwarts to say hello to his brother and mum (Remus), but for the most part he keeps his life intensely private. He allows his family to tell his story because he wants other kids to know they are not alone and that there is a way out, and that you are not a bad person for things you did in your childhood. Severus does his best to do it justice.

He has incredibly loud arguments with Dumbledore until he finally agrees to implement sex ed as a mandatory class at Hogwarts. Severus works with the other Marauders on the curriculum and they try to include multiple angles and identities in their lesson plan. At first they try to trust Remus with it, but Remus doesn’t go anywhere without Sirius who is less than tactful and Remus himself has some deadpan sarcasm and a lack of shame to rival James Potter’s, so. They try Lily. She can’t stop giggling. Finally they beg Regulus to come back and teach it. He’s surprisingly… perfect for the job. (He steals parenting books from Amir, that’s his secret.)

When James visits, everything becomes chaos for a bit. While he mostly hangs out with Sirius and Remus and causes trouble with them, he certainly seems to enjoy sitting in the back of Severus’ classroom and bothering him during lessons. The only way to get him to leave is to turn into a snake and wind himself around his shoulders, which makes James shriek and sputter and run away (James has always had an irrational fear of snakes; odd that he married one then, innit?). But when James isn’t causing chaos, he’s following Severus around adoringly and grabbing at his hand, whispering jokes in his ear and kissing his cheek. Despite all of the times he’s a pain in the ass, there are always these little moments that remind Severus why he fell in love with him in the first place (entirely unwillingly and with much stubborn pride on both ends, but, well. It is what it is and they got here eventually, so that’s all that matters).

When Lily visits, everything is calm. She reigns all of the Marauders in and forces them to have picnics under the tree where they all used to do homework. She often holds Severus’ hand and dances with him there, turning his insides to useless goo. She’s always full of laughter and fairy bells, and though she makes every student question their priorities and life decisions, she’s a favorite of them all. Not a day goes by that someone doesn’t pull him aside and say, “You’re a lucky, lucky man.” (Or, in James’ case: “Fuck, love, how’d we bloody manage that?” (Severus just shrugs. It’s not like he knows.))

He helps kids with autism feel more like they belong. He also works to educate non-autistic students how to better socialize and respect those who are, and takes extra care to dispel myths about autism and its causes, effects, and characteristics. Lily helps when she can.

Above all, Severus tries to give his students the education he never had. Anything he can provide for them he will. He’s been given a second chance and by Merlin is he going to bloody use it.

[raspberryranpo]

No golden deer wedding headcanons? Outrageous, this must be fixed immediately /j You don’t have to do all of them or you could just completely ignore this ask. I’d like you to know though that your writing is fantastic!! <3

what their weddings are like

fire emblem three houses: golden deer boys

i hope you don’t mind that i’ve only done the boys!! all of the girls would have really magical fairytale weddings & i’m not prepared to write that

and thank you so much!! it really makes me happy to see that people like my writing :((

CLAUDE

lorenz has to physically hold him back from bursting into your dressing room for the sake of tradition

news flash: it doesn’t work. he slips through the window when nobody else is looking

ends up being kicked back out of the window by lysithea though

anyway....... claude definitely gets married in one of those suits with all of the badges and medals on. one of the really pretty ones

and i’m not very imaginative so i can’t really give you any examples BUT he definitely has a traditional almyran wedding in almyra

it’s very warm. your clothes are thin and cool so that you don’t actually overheat. your faerghus friends are dropping off one by one

dimitri actually faints during the ceremony and everyone thinks that he’s just too happy for his friend, but he’s actually on the verge of death

he picks you up and carries you out when the ceremony is over

anyway - your first dance is probably very romantic. he holds you close and kisses you every five seconds

he’s whispering words of affection into your ear throughout the entire dance, but the second the song ends, he breaks out into some sort of frenzied breakdance

and you have no choice but to join in because his smile and his laughter are that infectious :))

LORENZ

religiously follows all traditions because he wouldn’t be lorenz hellman gloucester without following traditions

claude is (reluctantly) his best man, simply because lorenz secretly believes that claude is a very just and noble man

actually cries when he sees you walking down the aisle because he’s head over heels for you

holds your hands very gently throughout the entire thing because he’s incredibly nervous + holding your hands makes him feel better

also sits with you for the entire reception because he claims that “a good man never leaves his spouse on their wedding day” but nobody really knows where he got that tradition from

your first dance is some sort of waltz & it’s very romantic - lorenz definitely knows how to ballroom dance and you cannot change my mind

claude definitely hijacks the music and turns it into something that he thinks lorenz will definitely hate

but lorenz actually laughs and thinks it’s funny!! he’s too happy to care at this point and he eventually starts dancing along to the music

dances with claude at some point during the night but he’ll never admit that it was slightly fun

his speech is also extra long and extra detailed, so be prepared for that

RAPHAEL

tries to whisper to you about how beautiful you look once you reach him at the end of the aisle but his voice is too loud & literally everyone can hear him

and he’s not even embarrassed because he wants everyone to hear about how much you guys love each other

isn’t that what a wedding is about? - he thinks, and then proceeds to very loudly proclaim his love to you for the rest of the night

you stand on his feet when you have your first dance, or rather he stands on yours

raph cannot dance to save his life so you’ll have to take a few classes beforehand

oh the buffet. there will be a very big buffet and you know it

it literally spans from one wall to the other and raphael LOVES it

he is constantly within a five metre radius from the buffet table and he won’t allow himself to be pulled from there i’m sorry

always has his hand around your waist or around your shoulders too, so you’re kind of stuck by the buffet table too

sings along really loudly to the music and it’s slightly embarrassing but also very cute

IGNATZ

the most artsy wedding you’ll ever attend. oh wait, it’s your wedding...

he plans it & the wedding is definitely something to be bragged about for the next fifty years. you will not regret letting ignatz do the decorating

begs to design your dress but he has to be held back. he wants nothing more than to see you in something he’s designed himself

has the shakiest voice when he’s saying his vows and his hands are also incredibly sweaty

calms down a bit when he sees that you’re just as nervous - eventually, he even forgets that there’s people watching

raphael is the best man, of course, and he’s the best best man you could ever ask for

he’s always there to reassure both you or ignatz. what a man. such a good boy

your first dance is rather awkward but ignatz cannot take his eyes off of you

the cake is also very aesthetically pleasing and lysithea practically begs you not to cut it, which is surprising

sits by your side for the remainder of the reception because talking to people is a tad bit awkward

[simplive]

you will become a memory.

manhunt au! dream team, badboyhalo. general hunter mini headcanons

caution. death, insane sapnap per usual, maybe hints of yandere

DREAM.

─ “to hunt or be hunted.”

to be the hunter when he is usually the hunted is uncommon, but it is welcomed all the same ─ dream will revel in your fear from start, to finish as long as he possibly can. confident enough in his abilities to let you roam about in the world for a lengthy period of time because the direction of this compass will always point to where you resided. he’s not even worried when you reach the nether. whatever pace you decide to go about, will he respectively follow a suit, choosing to be calm and calculating. you don’t hear him ever speak from the ear piece, only the sounds of his shoes crushing the leaves below him as he gains closer, and closer towards your way. letting the impending dread crawl in.

he’ll let you have that sense of security, before tearing it all away.

to strike fear in others... it is what he does best.

sometimes you can get him to have conversation, just not for long. no larger than five minutes because he always returns to the same withdrawn, quiet self everyone knows him by. maybe smart, funny comments here and there to fill in the initial silence, but they are all disregarded by the fact that dream is coming to kill you regardless. there’s nothing he wants to change about that, you both signed yourself for this situation... he’s simply going to honor what it takes to be a professional, merciless hunter. an unofficial title he silently wears like an emblem. so you were doomed from the very start the moment it’s been heard who’d be tracking you down exactly.

out of everyone, they send out him, making you wonder as if the whole world wanted you to perish.

death is to be expected. you can still be good friends and still die at his hands. you’ll let him, won’t you? it’s destiny, your destiny, and everyone knows nobody can escape it once their future has been set, written in stone. what is there to have hope for? a painless death, maybe, depends on how dream feels that exact moment ─ their pain is what makes up a part of the amusement in the chase. although, it’s not like he’s going to drag it out unlike a close friend of his. do not fret, you’ll go down in history as the first prey he’s bothered to open up to... isn’t that good enough?

so why does his heart still pang at the thought?

no no, these are just mindless feelings, barely skin-deep. they’ll go away within seconds if he pays them no attention, just getting his objectives over with and moving onto the next victim. he’s doing this all for survival, and who knows... you’d do the exact same if you too wanted to live. this is a dog-eat-dog world, you either kill someone, or get killed. in fact, because you’re inflicting these unknown emotions on him gives dream more motivation to follow through with these objectives.

he’ll have you until your last breath.

GEORGE.

─ “love me until you die.”

george wants you to be comfortable and scared at the same time, he doesn’t want you to think of him as only a monster like the others. see? there’s still a bit of mercy in him to let you slide at times, shaking it off as a ‘silly little mistake’ of his, but it’s all planned. always has been. he doesn’t like to say this much, but, he pities your situation. the game cannot end until one completes the objectives... and by the looks of it, you’re nowhere as close to the finish line. be free to ask for tips or pointers whenever, he’s generous to share what he thinks will benefit you. it’s up to you whether you trust him or not, there is no offense to be taken, he’d have a hard time believing in your situation.

you can try to talk him out of this for a chance, but a job is a job, someone has to get this done.

and who knows what’ll happen to him if he doesn’t follow through.

your moments together were only meant to be full on bittersweet. you hate that he still tries to be nice against all, as if your life wasn’t placed in his hands to begin with. it would’ve been so much easier to despise george if he’d been vile, heartless, cruel even... but he isn’t. he’s kind, too kind, and you’re starting to think that maybe this was just your unescapable fate. something that transpired during your blurred life was apparently unacceptable for you to live on, it’s starting to finally make sense. no one can elude destiny as much as they pray. of course, when given a chance to slip from death, you’d take it without hesitation... but if all doesn’t go well, then that’s alright too.

everything should be okay if george is here, with you.

will you tell him these sentimental views, especially when you’re lying carelessly on the verge of death? absolutely not. he’d start to feel bad, and that’s the last thing you’d want from him. he’s only doing his job like anyone else, this is somewhat normal despite a few circumstances. you’ll keep reminding yourself anytime despair tries to reach out to you, pulling away from its tantalizing vicinity. don’t go back on this choice, don’t let the sadness take you.

don’t let him regret.

with your head perched comfortably onto his lap, blood spilling at your lips as you try to confess multiple things all at once, then failing miserably. they come out as a garbled mess of sounds unsurprisingly, rather faint to the ears, but there’s enough affection to get through him. you’ll squeeze his hand weakly in hopes of delivering a message, certainly woozy and content nonetheless. he smiles, smiles sadly at the result of his success, but this is what george had desired the whole time.

a chance to spill out his true feelings for you.

SAPNAP.

─ “look at me in the eyes.”

perhaps the most happiest one of the bunch to end someone’s life for the fun of it, quickly that is. he doesn’t want to waste time chasing after you endlessly all over the world, takes too much energy and patience... sapnap prefers to have you right in front of him so he can get right into action. there’s no point in running, everyone knows this. you do too, but such fact could never stop you from trying anyways ─ why not take advantage of that ten percent chance survival rate than do nothing at all? even he somewhat agrees with this new knowledge. there’s no fun in having a compliant little mouse. despite the obvious frustration of tracking you down, he knows it’ll be worth it in the finale when seeing you beg.

always, always looking forward to new targets. everyone is unique: their reactions, their struggles, every part of them. it’s good to have a taste of something refreshing and new. for being the type of person he was, having the same type of people to play with is completely boring, hunting would’ve became a tedious chore at that point. sapnap is ecstatic to hear about you. not much information was disclosed about you, there must be something intriguing then for the lack of story.

he hopes you won’t disappoint him.

sometimes he’ll let his ‘guard down’, sometimes. it’s only to get you motivated again because hopelessness will begin to bore him exceedingly. “don’t give up completely, little [name],” sapnap coos sickeningly, “maybe you’ll have a chance if you actually try for once. should i be nice like george, and give you another head start?” his encouragement, if you could even call it that are down right patronizing, doesn’t try to hide any malicious undertones because he’s confident his words will affect you just the way he wanted.

the fun can’t go on forever. he wants you to suffer for everything you’d put him through. sapnap did not waste three full days trying to corner you, shedding sweat, effort, and time in doing so for you to try and come up with some other excuse for him not to kill you. no, you’re misunderstanding, that’s not what he’s here for. money? no. fame? absolutely not. if it wasn’t any obvious,

he’s here to feed on your fear.

BAD.

─ “forgive me.”

like george, does manhunts because he has to, and it is quite absurd. bad has a huge problem with others having a foul mouth, but happens to not have any qualms raising a blade at someone’s throat. what kind of morals were those? he too questions these actions like any sane person would, however, does not do anything to change his ways because... it’s not in his power. what good would it do to suddenly just switch mindsets all of a sudden, superiors will start to question him and everyone he’d grown to love would suspect. to quit then would be breaking the code, and that’ll be like breaking someone’s trust. bad shouldn’t do it, he’s always reminding himself.

he shouldn’t...

and still, he’s probably the only one who has the hearts to let you go.

for first impressions, bad certainly doesn’t strike you as a hunter. he takes the time to introduce him properly, salutations and a heartfelt apology. you ask, why apologize so suddenly, we just met. he can’t do anything other than sigh, letting the silence answer your question. well, you’re currently the first one on his list, the first to die at that. he’s just here for warnings, letting you gain a huge head start...

calls you muffin as another form of affection. strikes to be strange at first, but you slowly get used to the nickname as you do him, able to enjoy the situation because it’s starting to feel like a nice game of a fusion of hide and seek, and good ol’ tag. he hasn’t been able to physically hurt you once, or at least is trying to make it seem like a mistake ─ missing opportunities, or forgetting to. whatever the case may be, you’re not complaining one bit. in fact, you too haven’t tried to raise a blade at him either.

why would you even?

your kindness is limitless, and it proves when bad cannot fathom hurting you under any circumstances. most of his victims were very aggressive, always cussing at him no matter the context, maybe that’s why guilt hasn’t officially hit him until now. the you who still manages to laugh despite everything, thank you for letting him see the horrors of his actions. “will... i’ll be able to see you again?” you murmur, unsure if you should turn your back on him and leave.

“... maybe some day! for now, you should go. be careful though, some might recognize your face as well.”

he never tells you that his life would be of no more, and he lets you go, the oblivious one, with a bittersweet smile.

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 15

(Masterpost)(Other Canary Content)

Warning: Spoilers for all 50 episodes!

This rewatch is going to fit into a single post, because a third of the episode is just crying and yelling on a very slow boat. If you want to learn the Chinese words for “Mother” and “Father” this is your episode. 

Captain Blowhard

Clan Leader Yao shows up, having barely survived the massacre of his clan, along with two disciples who aren't too excited about their unwilling promotion to top targets. Jiang Cheng tells his dad that the Wens are systematically exterminating the smaller clans, and have said anyone who helps the survivors is going to be punished. 

Jiang Fengmian tells Yao that the Jiang Clan will protect him. Which is why Wei Wuxian is responsible for the massacre of the Jiang Clan. 

Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian both think that taking Yao to the Jin clan is the best way to keep him safe. Wei Wuxian was wrong to help the heirs of the powerfullest richest clans, but sure, let's save this asshole.

Road Tripping

The boys go down to the dock to send Jiang Yanli and Jiang Fengmian off, saying a formal goodbye with a bunch of disciples and showing off how extremely good they look in these close-fitted, simply cut robes with cool belts.

Yu Ziyuan comes down to say goodbye to Yanli and give her some medicine, covering by saying it's for Jiang Fengmian, because being sick is bad for marriage prospects, probably. 

Later the boys will mention their hope that YZY will be mollified by the time JFM returns, which means this possibly isn't the usual state of their relationship. The dislike and jealousy seem to be constant, but perhaps being openly at war with each other is not.

(more after the cut!)

Club Ruohan

At Club Ruohan, Wen Ruohan is tired of sitting on his big uncomfortable throne so he's sitting on the floor next to it, instead. He's suffering the embarrassing problem of black smoke leakage, and needs Wen Qing to give him acupuncture to fix it, but she's not around. Wen Ruohan has an awful lot of trouble containing resentful energy, possibly because he is controlling a bunch of zombies 24x7 instead of letting them take a break. Wei Wuxian is mostly able to control it--except when he, you know, totally isn't--without ever needing an attractive acupuncturist to give him a poke.

WRH learns from Wen Chao that Wei Wuxian 1. killed a boss-level monster on nightmare level difficulty without his sword 2. took whatever thing had been suppressing the nightmare monster for the previous really long time.  WRH wants whatever it is.

Boys in Charge

When the boys get back to Lotus Pier, Jiang Cheng doesn't understand why they couldn't all go to the Lins together, and Wei Wuxian explains it to him. Wei Wuxian is the one seeing the big picture, and he wants to plan how to handle the Wen forces when they, inevitably, arrive. 

Jiang Cheng would rather talk big than actually plan, showing how--at this age--his anger management problem is an issue on a strategic level, not just a personal one.  As a clan leader he will eventually master this aspect, for the most part, and learn to keep a cool head in regard to martial matters, while continuing to feed his interpersonal rage problem.

The brothers supervise the archery practice of the Jiang disciples, having their last nice time together, and still without a plan. Wei Wuxian is bored and calls practice early so he can go be bored on the porch or in his room, since he isn't allowed out. In fact he's so bored by lockdown that he starts an irreverent niche blog.  

(he’s kidding! keep your mask on, don’t go to wine houses)

Knowing that the Wen Clan is gunning for enemy cultivators, Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng send the whole group of disciples, including children, outside the compound walls to retrieve their kites. This is what happens when you don't have a plan.

Wen the Levee Breaks

Wen Chao’s girlfriend Wang Lingjiao finds a kite with a hole in it and uses it as a pretext to snatch up the youngest disciple. 

The other disciples come running back and tell WWX and JC what happened. Wei Wuxian calmly gets all of the information from them and starts figuring out what to do, while Jiang Cheng freaks out. 

Jiang Cheng is a good fighter, and matures into an excellent one after a core upgrade and war experience. But Wei Wuxian is a born battle leader, developing strategies on the fly and staying cool under pressure.

Madame Yu is as brave as a barrel full of bears and Yinzhu and Jinzhu chase lions down the stairs

Yu Ziyuan and the murder twins show up and all of the disciples line up behind them, relieved to have someone scary in charge.. Yu Ziyuan is also a natural leader and an awesome fighter, but her judgement is terrible, as we're about to discover. 

Bitchfest

Wang Lingjiao strolls in to the main hall and has the nerve to comment on the interior decorating, because it doesn't have enough rough-hewn black rock and lava pits, apparently.

She shows them all the kite and says that because it looks (kind of) like the sun, using it for target practice is an attack on the Wen Clan. Bitch, everything your clan wears and uses has fire on it and is red. The sun is not your emblem, no matter what the text says. This kite situation is presumably where the anti-Wen campaign gets its name of "Sunshot," however, which sounds pretty cool.

Wang Lingjiao moves along to her main point, which is that Wei Wuxian needs his ass kicked, and she'd like Yu Ziyuan to do the kicking. To goad her, she starts talking about the rumors about Wei Wuxian's parentage.

Let it Whip

So let it whip (let's whip it, baby) Get a grip (let's whip it baby) Well, what's your trip? (Oh no)

Yu Ziyuan takes the bait, and proceeds to whip the shit out of her strongest battle asset, in a sequence that's either horrifying or completely fucking awesome, depending on how you feel about whump.

There are a lot of bad effects in this show and a lot of questionable fighting, but any time Zidian flies, I am HERE for it. I gave this beatdown its own gifset over here.

Jiang Cheng is devastated and tries again and again to protect Wei Wuxian, but his mother and her lieutenants keep moving him out of the way so the beating can continue.

Yu Ziyuan hits Wei Wuxian at least 5 times, until he is totally unable to get up off the floor. Wang Lingjiao has succeeded in eliminating him as a threat for the moment.

Gotta Hand It To You

Wang Lingjiao isn't satisfied with the brutal whipping, however; she wants his right hand as a trophy, and for him to be unable to recover.  Yu Ziyuan tells Jinzhu and Yinzhu to close the doors because some blood is going to fly. 

I'd like to think this is when Yu Ziyuan decides to kill the Wens, rather than maiming WWX, but I'm not certain. Because she doesn't start attacking until after Wang Lingjiao says the Wens are taking Lotus Pier, and tells her to discipline Jiang Cheng. So maybe she is okay with taking WWX’s hand, but draws the line at giving up her house.

Through all of this, Wei Wuxian doesn't once protest, even when he thinks they're getting ready to take his hand off. He'll do whatever it takes to make peace. THIS is the core of his heroism; he will sacrifice anything to do what he thinks is right. He's not "playing the hero;" not doing this for fame or kudos, but for a clear conscience.

It’s a Murder Party

Wang Lingjiao explains the new Wen World order, and Yu Ziyuan smacks her to the floor and then takes out all 8 of the Wen soldiers in one elegant move. 

Can we talk about how incredibly effective a fighter Yu Ziyuan is, without a sword? With her first-class spiritual tool as her only weapon? Nobody is telling her she needs to carry a sword. She shows she can use one, after she gives Zidian to Jiang Cheng, but she's absolutely devastating without one.

Having defied Wang Lingjiao, Yu Ziyuan...doesn't kill her. She chokes her, slaps her and yells at her. Then she insults her clan and sticks her FOOT on her FACE.

She sics the murder twins on the guards in the room, and they shank all of them at super speed while the boys watch with alarm. 

Then she has them sloooowly advance on Wang Lingjiao, giving her plenty of time to holler for Wen Zhuliu before they can kill her.

Het Heat

Wen Zhuliu comes flying in, literally, kicking both murder twins across the room at the same time. This is followed by Core-Melting Hand x Violet Spider suddenly becoming the most shippable M/F couple in this thing, because wow, they have some serious chemistry.

I never saw a pretty girl look so tough

Actor Feng Mingjing continues to do an awful lot with almost no lines, in his portrayal of Wen Zhuliu. WZL politely apologizes to Yu Ziyuan. Is he offering to withdraw, or is he just being polite before getting down to the killy bit? Either way, Yu Ziyuan is ready to rumble, and doesn't even consider de-escalating.

You know who was able to rein in his temper, after fighting with this same extremely dangerous dude, and therefore lived to fight another day? Fucking Nie Mingjue, that's who, who has a generational CURSE making him angry. While Yu Ziyuan, is like, "fuck the safety of my clan, this is Wei Wuxian's fault anyway" and throws down.

Wen Zhuliu and Yu Ziyuan proceed to have an epic, sexy fight, where he catches her whip and she dodges his attempt to feel up her core.

He's a magic man, mama, he's got the magic hands.

Wei Wuxian, still incapacitated, tells Jiang Cheng to stop Wang Lingjiao from calling for help, but JC gets distracted by the threat to his mom, and goes to engage with Wen Zhuliu.

Jiang Cheng takes a horrifying smack in the chest, which injures him and takes him out, while Wang Lingjiao sends the signal that seals the fate of Lotus Pier.

It’s All Over Except for the Crying

Yu Ziyuan immediately sees that she's lost the battle, and has the murder twins divert Wen Zhuliu while she brings the two boys to the pier. 

She verifies that Jiang Cheng's core is still intact, showing the viewers, for future reference, that it's possible to tell by touch if someone's core is missing, although a casual touch won't do it.  

Then she re-codes the Zidian so that it recognizes Jiang Cheng and puts it on his wrist. She follows this with a display of maternal affection for Jiang Cheng unlike anything we've seen so far, which super fails to reassure him.  

She follows this up with screaming at Wei Wuxian and telling him how much she hates him, and blaming him for the multiple shitty choices she just made..  

With a heart full of rage, she reminds him that his worth lies in what he can do for more important people.

She binds the boys with Zidian and then sends the boat on its way....

...with a frickin' TALISMAN, holeee shit. As toxic as she is for Wei Wuxian, there is a direct line from her cultivation skills to his.  

Dad To The  Rescue...sort of

The last third of the episode is basically yelling and crying punctuated by a couple of interactions out on the water. The extreme emotions go on for long enough that I eventually stop feeling bad for the characters and start feeling bad for the actors, who had to maintain this level of feeling for probably days of shooting.

The boys eventually meet up with Jiang Fengmian and Jiang Yanli. JFM discovers that Zidian responds to his control, which tells him something is very, very wrong, since it probably knows how his wife feels about him.

This thing isn’t biting me; your mom is in serious trouble. 

Here Jiang Fengmian decides to do the heroic, totally futile thing, which is exactly his style. He tosses Jiang Yanli in with the boys and takes his leave so he can go die with his wife while the children survive.  

He has to know that Yu Ziyuan is the stronger fighter of the two of them, and that he's not going back to rescue her. He's just going to stand with her and die together, which is the most romantic thing you can do in a C-drama, after all.  

How Much Do You Owe the Jiang Clan?

Jiang Fengmian tells his two children not to cry, making them and the viewer cry extra hard. (specially ouchy gifset here).

Then he turns to Wei Wuxian and, with a heart full of tenderness, reminds him that his worth lies in what he can do for more important people.

Next episode: Is going to be even more horrible! 

Soundtrack: 1. When The Levee Breaks, Led Zeppelin 2. The Tale of Custard the Dragon (poem) by Ogden Nash 3. Let it Whip by the Dazz Band 4. U Got the Look by Prince & Sheena Easton 5. Magic Man by Heart

[wordsfromthesol]

Sleep Deprived

Author: @wordsfromthesol Taglist: @zphilophobiaz Pairing: Tim Drake x Reader Summary:  Tim accidentally falls asleep in the wrong apartment. That apartment happens to be yours, and it happens to be on your first day at your new job. Warnings: Language maybe? Word Count: 1.6k

It was the first day of your new job, your new job at Wayne Enterprises. Unfortunately, this meant you had to actually start waking up early. When the alarm went off at 5:30 in the morning you absolutely dreaded leaving your warm bed, but it was your first day and you were determined to make a good impression. Throwing your legs over the side of the bed, you slowly pushed yourself up and shuffled into the bathroom. Forty-five minutes later you came out and nearly fell to the floor in shock upon noticing a figure in your bed. Stalking closer you noticed they had a mask on…and was that a cape? After staring for a solid minute and a half you finally recognized the emblem, Red Robin, one of the infamous vigilantes of Gotham. You had only been in Gotham a week, was this normal? Shaking the thoughts from your mind you squinted through the dark and made your way to your closet. Selecting an outfit you tip-toed into the living room and got dressed. You had planned to actually make breakfast, but you supposed you had time to stop somewhere. Jotting down a quick note for the hero, you quietly went back into the room and placed it on the nightstand before leaving.

**

Tim's eyes fluttered before shooting open. His mind went into panic mode, quickly surveying the area and finding a note on the nightstand.  

Red Robin,

I think you stumbled into my apartment by accident, but I'm sure keeping Gotham safe takes quite a toll. Since you’re a hero, I'm hoping you won't steal any of my stuff. Feel free to help yourself to any coffee.

Tim made his way to the window. "This isn't even close to my apartment." He mumbled to himself just as his phone rang.

"Dick?"

"Where the hell are you?"

"I…uh…working."

"At an apartment building half a mile from yours?"

"Why do you -- nevermind. I guess I slept here." Tim stopped trying to keep up the façade.

"DO YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND I DON'T KNOW ABOUT?!" Dick's voice went up two octaves as he screamed across the phone line.

"Geez, calm down Dick. No, I don't have a girlfriend. I honestly don't know how I ended up here. I was patrolling late last night --"

Dick cut him off, "When was the last time you slept? Not including this morning." He quickly added the qualifying statement.

"Three days…" Tim mumbled, knowing he was about to get an ear full from his brother.

"You can't keep doing this Tim. You're going to get yourself hurt."

"I know, okay." The statement long and drawn out. "I didn't mean to, I just get hyper fixated…"

"You're taking off tonight. From patrol and case work. And you better figure out how to thank that poor girl."

Tim knew it was pointless arguing with him and relented before hanging up the phone. At least now he could catch up on some WE work these next few days.

**

You quickly learned from your new coworkers that heroes stumbling into random apartments for a nap was not a normal occurrence in Gotham. You were just lucky…according to them. When you got back the mysterious figure had left. Though it would've been more surprising if he was still there.

When your alarm went off the next morning, you proceeded to the bathroom as usual. Only this time when you were done, your head hesitantly peaked around the corner, half expecting the hero to be in your bed once again. He wasn't. Slightly disheartened, you made your way to the WE building and went straight to research and development, hoping to avoid the morning gossip.

"Oh, Y/N! You're here. Can you run this up to Mr. Drake's office?" Your supervisor asked before you could step through the door.

"You…you mean like…the CEO, Mr. Drake?"

She could hear the wavering in your voice and quickly consoled you, "Don't worry. He's never here. More of a night owl I suppose. Just set it on his desk."

"Okay…" You were still hesitant, but couldn't exactly turn her down on your second day of work. Once you got to his office, his secretary didn't bother looking up. They just waved you along. Just as you set the folder on his desk, you heard the door opening. "Shit." You mumbled, praying that it wasn't the CEO.

"You must be Y/N." The voice was clear and crisp behind you. You spun around to see Timothy Drake, CEO of Wayne Enterprises, standing before you.

"Uh…yeah. You know who I am?"

"Heh, well I do run the company."

"But I just started yesterday. I'm nobody."

"Don't be ridiculous. What did you bring?" Tim motioned towards the folder on his desk beside you.

"A proposal from Sarah. I think it's some new circuit board."

"Well don't try to sell me on it." Tim could hear the lack of enthusiasm in your voice, not that you were trying to hide it.

"Sorry…not my thing I guess." You tried to play off the awkwardness…it did not work.

"You work under her, don't you?" Tim furrowed his brows as he stalked over and grabbed the folder, slowly thumbing through the papers.

"Yeah." You wanted to rant more, but you didn't think it was appropriate. It was your second day, and though the work didn't interest you, Wayne Enterprises did. This was how you could get your foot in the door. How you could make a difference in the world.

"Well, then what is your thing?" Tim was determined to get the answers he wanted. After all, he had to have some way to repay you for letting him crash uninvited at your apartment. And not waking him or telling the world that he was there.

"Honestly…" You hesitated to complain about your brand new job, but something about Tim felt familiar and safe. "I want to develop technology that makes a difference, that helps people. The projects I've seen seem completely money driven, which I understand. But in Gotham we have so much to look out for. Think about a chemical to counterattack Poison Ivy's spell or a ballistics vest you can comfortably wear under anything…" You drifted off into your thoughts until you realized you had been ranting for almost fifteen minutes. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to sound ungrateful for this --" Tim cut you off.

"No. I think we may have placed you in the wrong division. I want you to meet someone."

**

"I figured it out." Tim proudly announced as he sauntered into the Batcave, nodding toward Dick sitting at the computer.

"Figured out how to convince me to let you patrol tonight? Because the answer is no." Dick didn't even bother to look up. Mainly because he didn't want to be persuaded otherwise.

"No. You were right, I needed time. But the girl. Y/N."

"Your new girlfriend…" Dick wagged his eyes as he spun around to face his brother.

Tim rolled his eyes and attempted to ignored his older brother's comment. "She's the new WE employee. I'm moving her from our standard R&D department." Dick arched his eyebrows, still unsure where Tim was going with this. "She's going to be working with Lucius."

"And you think that's a good idea?"

"Yes. I fully checked her out and I think her work will benefit us more than it will WE."

"So you going to officially introduce yourself then?"

"Yes," Tim looked suspiciously at the mischievous glare in Dick's eyes before quickly adding, "But not for that reason!"

"Hmm" Dick spun back around towards the computer.  

"Don't you dare tell Jason about this!" Tim screamed as he bolted up the stairs.

**

The next day you stood in awe once more as your new boss, Lucius Fox, was showing you more of the lab. There was technology here that you didn't even think existed. That's when it all clicked, this was tech used by superheroes. Wayne Enterprises supplied tech to the Justice League, Titans, Outsiders…all the superhero groups you could think of had displayed various pieces you now recognized around the lab. Your jaw finally dropped open as you watched Red Robin himself saunter down the hallway.

"Lucius! I heard you had a new protégé." The vigilante eyed you as he came to a stop next to your new boss.

"Red Robin. I didn't know you were stopping by today." You noticed Lucius smirk as he side-eyed the hero.

"Well I…" The remark caught Tim off guard…he didn't really have a particular reason for coming to the lab today. Well other than you. "I had to meet Y/N. I've heard great things so far."

"Right, well I have your suit repaired." Lucius chimed in to relieve some of the awkward tension before quickly disappearing to retrieve it.

Your eyes squinted as you glanced awkwardly around the room, "I've been employed here for like 3 days now…"

"Your…uh…research at school. And your internship at LexCorp…" Of course he had researched you. There's no way you would've gotten into the position without extensive background checks. You awkwardly fiddled with your fingers, hoping Lucius would soon return. You didn't expect Red Robin to try and continue the conversation. "Also thanks for letting me crash the other night. Guess I didn't realize how tired I was."

"So you don't just pick a random apartment to sleep in every night?"

"Well I try not to…I already got berated enough by my brother for that night."

"Good, as you should've." Red Robin looked slightly hurt by your commentary, so you continued. "It's never healthy to let yourself get to that point. What if you had to fight someone?"

"You sound like him…but fair enough. At least it allowed me to work normal hours for once this week."

The gears were turning in your head as everything fell into place, "Tim?" you blurted out before you realized what you had said.

"Ha! Well that didn’t take long." Lucius chuckled as he walked out, costume in hand. Tim's cheeks were already turning a bright crimson.

[joyful-soul-collector]

I’ve never known a kid like you to stay down for long

By @joyful-soul-collector for @pookiethefrickinbunn

@friendly-neighborhood-exchange

Relationships: Tony & Peter

Characters: Tony, Peter, Friday, Karen

Summary: Peter runs away after his identity is revealed, and is just trying to get by

It took longer than you’d think it would to find a roof that normal people couldn’t climb easily onto. Most places had some sort of roof access point, and Peter had been chased off them enough times to look for one that he literally couldn’t be kicked off of.

Though he was seriously considering leaving this one despite how safe it was. He was on a pretty tall building, tall enough that most people didn’t see him, and it didn’t have a roof access point either. But this seemingly perfect safe haven of a building was right next to a restaurant.

And Peter hadn’t eaten in days.

Peter pressed his hands to his belly as it rumbled for what must’ve been the millionth time that day. The smell of the food wafting through the air was practically torturous, making his mouth water so much he had to lift his mask up and wipe drool off his face at least every five minutes.

He was so hungry he’d spent the last half hour just sitting on the edge of the roof, inhaling the scent of food deeply and listening to his stomach growl.

But eventually he knew he had to leave. He’d already spent a week on this roof, and as safe as it was, nowhere was safe for very long. Not when everyone was trying to hunt you down for something you didn’t do.

It’d been a couple weeks after his identity was revealed that a video surfaced of Spider-Man supposedly beating up an unarmed, defenseless man. What the video didn’t show was the man dragging a screaming little boy into an alleyway, and Peter saving him. Videos like this had actually happened before, usually edited to make him look like the bad guy by The Daily Bugle. But this was the first time people had an address to attack. And because of that, the video stuck around, circulating around New York, until suddenly he didn’t feel safe anywhere at all.

And not only was he in danger, his friends and family were starting to be accused of supporting a horrible villain, and Aunt May had even considered moving. Even Mr. Stark had been pressured to fire Peter from the Stark Industries Internship Program. He didn’t, but the damage was done. Rather than put everyone through the pain of being his friend, his family, Peter left, with a vague plan to head west.

The hardest part was actually taking the tracker out of his suit. He knew how upset Mr. Stark would be that he broke his trust. Again.

That was two weeks ago, and now the only problem was the health alert in the suit. The health alert sent out a signal of Peter’s location if he were to lose consciousness while out on patrol. Peter had to take off the suit to sleep without having the alert go out (which really sucked, as the heater would’ve been nice on cold nights) but he also had to make sure he never fainted, passed out from blood loss, got knocked out, or straight up forgot to take off the suit before going to bed. Or, roof.

Which was easier said than done when you’re exhausted and starving and freezing to death. And unfortunately the health alert was too complex to remove without compromising the rest of the suit, possibly rendering it completely useless.

There was no way he’d survive without his suit.

And even if he didn’t admit it, Peter liked the idea of having a fail-safe in case anything really bad happened. He liked the idea that he might get to see Mr. Stark again.

But until then, he was tired with nowhere to sleep, hungry with nothing to eat, and sad with nobody to comfort him.

Peter sighed, massaging his empty stomach as he stood up shakily. Might as well leave now instead of torturing himself over the food. He walked over to where his backpack sat, and pulled a map out to make sure he was still going the right direction.

Peter’s complete lack of plan for when he arrived at this vague “west” was starting to bother him, but he didn’t have the energy to try and think of a plan now. All he knew was he needed to get some food, and fast. And for food, he needed money. He’d already spent everything he’d brought with him within the first week, and if he didn’t want to starve he needed to find somewhere that’d be willing to pay him for a couple odd jobs.

Like he’d ever be so lucky with his face plastered on every tv screen, the word “menace” echoing in every watcher’s ears.

He wondered if a store would be willing to help him out. Maybe they could pay him to restock some shelves or something, he’d done that plenty of times at Mr. Delmar’s.

Peter’s stomach grumbled loudly at the thought of one of Mr. Delmar’s sandwiches, and he gripped his belly with a hiss of pain. Yep, bad idea thinking about that. But still, a store was a good option. Especially a big one, one where an extra face wouldn’t look too suspicious. He might as well head out and look around now, nighttime was always the best to travel in. A lot less eyes on you.  

Peter slipped off his shoes and pressed the spider emblem on his chest, breathing a small sigh of relief as it well away. Having his shirt and pants on under the suit was always uncomfortable, but it made it so he didn’t have to change into his clothes to sleep. It was warmer too, but he needed to be in street clothes now.

But Peter started shivering almost immediately, his trembling hands having difficulty pulling his hoodie out of his pack and stuffing his suit in to replace it. He quickly forced it on, teeth chattering as he pulled up the hood and rubbed his arms.

He really shouldn’t be this cold. It was springtime, but no matter what he did, Peter was always freezing without the heater in his suit to warm him. It made sleeping practically impossible, but there was no way he would risk Mr. Stark finding him. He couldn’t put everyone through the pain of just… being around him.

When he’d stopped trembling enough to actually get moving, he yanked off his mask, swung on his backpack and slipped back on his shoes. Looking down at himself he grimaced at the splotches of dirt and grime all over his clothes, and the fact that his hoodie pocket was ripping, and his sleeves were stretched too wide, and his shoes were peeling away from the soles.

He actually felt his eyes starting to sting at the sight of himself.

How could things have gotten so bad? All I wanted to do was help people. I just wanted to save people, I was helping, so why am I here? Why am I running away from the people I’m trying to save, sleeping on rooftops and freezing to death and so fucking hungry my belly hurts? Why do I fuck up everything I touch?

Peter sighed and brushed a tear off his face roughly, pushing the thoughts away as best he could. It’s just his Parker Luck, that’s all. Fucks everything over as best it can, as usual.

I just hope it doesn’t get me discovered. I don’t care what happens, as long as Mr. Stark and Aunt May and my friends can’t find me, they’ll be safe, he thought, swinging his leg off the roof and carefully climbing down. Normally he would just web his way down, which is a lot faster, but he didn’t have a lot of web fluid left, and there was no way for him to make more.

The scent of food was growing stronger and stronger as he climbed down, to the point where he felt a bit lightheaded with hunger. Maybe… maybe he could sneak in and grab something. Or not even that, he could just walk in and ask for a table for one. Order and eat, then book it. People dine and dash all the time right? And it looked so warm and cozy there.

He wondered when the last time he actually felt comfortable. His joints and shoulders constantly ached from sleeping on the rooftops, not to mention that food would definitely ease the pain in his belly. But what if they suspected him? Or recognized him from the news? He could still sneak in, and if someone caught him he could beg them not to tell, beg them to keep quiet, beg them for something to eat--

“Oh my god, what am I thinking?” Peter said to himself, finally setting foot on the ground. He couldn’t do that. Any of that. He’s supposed to be the hero, heroes don’t steal food, or dine and dash, or beg people for things.

But when his stomach rumbled loudly again it seemed to be saying “heroes gotta eat too.”

Peter was still weighing his options, staring at the restaurant and rubbing his belly, when he heard a shriek split the air.

“HELP! Help, someone please!”

Peter groaned, for once feeling like he’d rather not be a hero now. If everyone was just gonna turn on him, why should he waste his time trying to save them? Hell, why should he even consider whether or not he should steal food? He wanted to eat dammit, why shouldn’t he just ignore them, and instead go order eight cheeseburgers, and three milkshakes, with a side of five fries?

But when the person screamed again, Peter seemed to snap out of it, suddenly realizing his thoughts.

Shit.  

Peter quickly yanked off his hoodie and shoes and threw his suit back on, gasping at the wave of heat that spread over his skin as the heater started up.

“Karen! Tell me where those screams are coming from!” he said as he frantically pulled on his mask.

“Plotting route now,” she responded, a blue arrow pointing him across the street and into an alleyway. Peter webbed his way there as fast as he could, cursing under his breath.

“Dammit Parker, what the hell is wrong with you? Oh my god if they got hurt--Fuck, man!”

He dropped into the alleyway to see a woman pointing a gun at a man and what must’ve been his son behind him. The man was pleading to her, begging her not to hurt his baby. Peter’s guilt only got heavier as he realized if he’d gotten here sooner then maybe him and his son wouldn’t be so terrified.

“HEY!” Peter shouted, causing all three of them to start and look at him. The woman’s eyes were glassy and drunken, the same look Peter saw on a lot of drivers he saved people from. “Put the gun down! Drop it, you don’t want to hurt them!”

“Spider-Man?” Peter heard the little boy squeak.

“SHUT UP!” The woman screamed shrilly, whipping around to face them again and gripping the gun tighter.

“No! Look at me! Point that at me!” Peter cried, running forward and forcing himself between the gun and pair trapped at the end of the alleyway. The woman seemed to be so stunned at this move that she didn’t even react.

“Eyes on me,” Peter said calmly, staring wide at her. As he went on he slowly began to turn around her, and she instinctively followed him with her eyes and gun. “Everything’s fine, just keep… looking… at… me.”

When she’d made enough of a turn for the boy and his father to run behind her and escape, Peter snatched her arm and yelled “GO!”

The woman tried to turn as the pair took off, the father holding his child to his chest, but Peter held fast, gripping her arm tight enough for her to cry out in pain.

BLAM!

The force of the bullet nearly knocked Peter off his feet, as if the white hot pain wasn’t enough to do that. Every bell and alarm in his head was ringing, his Spidey Sense spiking to the point where the pain made his vision swim in front of him.

If you asked Peter now what he did after that, he wouldn’t be able to tell you. He doesn’t remember webbing the woman to the wall and clutching his shoulder as he stumbled out of the alleyway. He doesn’t remember hearing sirens and dazedly thinking he has to hide before they see him. He doesn’t even remember climbing into a dumpster and falling with a whimper on a pile of black trash bags out of sight.

And he sure doesn’t remember the roar of repulsors just outside his hiding place.

In fact, all he remembers after that is realizing he forgot to take off his suit, and that his shoes, backpack, and hoodie, were still sitting next to the restaurant.

~~~

Tony hadn’t slept since Peter went missing. He spent every minute, every second looking for Peter. Even when Pepper urged him to sleep, even when Rhodey came in to give him another meal to be left uneaten, he didn’t stop. God, all he wanted was for his baby to come home. He knew why Peter left, he knew Peter thought it was the right thing, but sometimes he wondered where the hell he got all the self-sacrifice from.

In the back of Tony’s mind he knew Peter had gotten it from him, but that only made him feel worse. He hated that he may have inspired Peter’s idea to go off on his own, to throw himself at the mercy of the world just to keep people from being inconvenienced.

“Friday scan the latest news articles for sightings of Spider-Man please?” Tony said, drinking what must’ve been his fourth cup of coffee that day.

“There are 32 articles, Boss,” she responded promptly.

“And how many of those are real?”

“None, sir.”

“Right. Awesome.”

Tony set down his coffee, and pulled up a hologram, running his usual searches and scans for Peter. Every day was looking more and more hopeless, and Tony’s last thread to cling to was that someone would spot him and he’d be able to get there in time before Peter slipped out of his grasp. Again.

There was also the possibility of the health alert going off. But for that to happen Peter would have to either get seriously hurt, or happen to fall asleep in the suit, which he seems to be taking very careful steps not to. He’d hate for Peter to get hurt, even if it meant being able to find him.

“Boss!” Friday said suddenly, startling Tony so much he knocked his mug off the counter and it smashed to the floor. But he ignored it, knowing Friday had never used this amount of urgency in her voice before.

“What is it?! Where is he!?”

“His health alert went off, I’m sending coordinates to Mark 42 now!”

Tony rushed to the suit room and stepped into the Mark 42, blasting off of the launchpad and turning the repulsors to full strength, headed straight for Peter’s coordinates.

“Talk to me Fri.”

“Peter has been shot in the shoulder, no major arteries hit, but he is losing blood. He seems to be extremely sleep deprived as well as malnourished, and will lose consciousness soon.”

“God kid, what have you gotten yourself into?” Tony muttered. He was surprised at how close Peter was, he thought in the two weeks he’d been missing he might’ve gone farther, but he seems to have only made it just outside New York City.

“Land here, Boss,” Friday said suddenly. Tony looked down and saw a pitch black alleyway, and quickly descended down, landing a few meters away from a dumpster. But from what Tony could see, nobody was here.

“C’mon Fri, I don’t fucking have time for puzzles--”

“The garbage, Boss,” Friday interrupted. Tony felt his skin go cold as he turned around, staring at the dumpster. He quickly went over and peered inside.

And there he was.

My kid, my Peter.

He was sprawled limply over a mound of trash bags, blood leaking out of a bullet hole in his shoulder. Tony pulled off his mask and took in his pale, thin face and dark circles under his eyes.

“Oh my god--Oh Pete.” He lifted him from the trash, feeling tears of both relief and fear spring to his eyes. “Hey kiddo, we’re gonna get you home now, okay buddy? We just um… we gotta stop this bleeding first.”

“Karen says Peter’s possessions are next to the restaurant across the street, there’s a hoodie there that you can use to stop the bleeding,” Friday said quickly. Tony flew gently to the spot she indicated, and found a discarded hoodie that was nearly threadbare, a pair of shoes that were barely recognizable as shoes, and a ratty old backpack where Peter must’ve kept his extra things in. He almost thought it’s where he kept his food too, but the kid was practically a sack of bones, there’s no way he’s been eating much.

“Okay baby, I’m just gonna set you down so I can get this hoodie tied around you,” he said, knowing Peter couldn’t hear him but feeling too relieved that he could talk to his kid again to stop. “We’re gonna stop the bleeding and get you home okay? It’ll all be okay, I promise Pete.”

Once Tony got the ratty sweater tied around Peter’s shoulder enough to keep constant pressure on it, he quickly shoved the shoes into Peter’s pack and swung it over his shoulder. Then he gingerly picked him up, cradling his head and hoping the metal fingers weren’t too uncomfortable for him.

“Okay Pete, we’re gonna go now okay? We’re gonna go and get you patched up now, you’re safe now alright?”

Tony’s helmet clanked shut and he blasted off, headed straight for the Tower again, still speaking comfortingly to Peter, hoping somehow he could hear.

~~~

Peter woke very slowly, slipping in and out of consciousness for what could’ve been seconds or days. Ultimately what woke him was realizing that he was far more comfortable than he should be. He should be freezing, his shoulders should be aching from the hard rooftop, his face should be sticky and wet with grime.

He shouldn’t feel a familiar warmth in his hand.

Peter finally opened his eyes, the action much harder than it sounds. He was in a hospital. No, not a hospital, it wasn’t quite the same. A medbay. Stark Tower’s medbay.

And the person holding his hand was Mr. Stark himself. He had his head on the hospital bed, snoring softly and holding Peter’s hand firmly, as though terrified if he let go, Peter would simply fade away.

No. No no no no no, I shouldn’t be here, no, oh god--

Peter’s eyes filled with tears and he couldn’t even hold back a sob. His small whimpers were what woke Tony.

“Peter?” he mumbled, lifting his head quickly and blinking sleep away. When he caught sight of Peter’s face his expression softened and he quickly stood up, reaching over and wiping away Peter’s tears. “Oh god, Peter, hey it’s okay, it’s okay baby, you’re okay.”

“No, no, Mr. Stark I can’t be here, they’re gonna--”

“Shh, none of that kiddo--”

“No, no no no I have to leave Mr. Stark, you shouldn’t have taken me here, they’re gonna hurt--”

“Nobody's gonna hurt anybody, baby. I know what you were trying to do, I know you want to keep us safe,” Tony said, pulling the blankets higher up on Peter, and tucking them in. “But you don’t have to run away. I’ve taken care of everything.”

“W-What do you mean you’ve taken care of everything?” Peter said. It was then he noticed he was still absolutely starving, making it much harder to focus as he looked up at Tony.

“I mean I’ve made sure your friends, Ned, MJ, your school, and Aunt May, all of them are protected. If a villain comes anywhere near them, if news reporters bombard them, I’ll know. You don’t have to leave to keep them safe anymore, I’ve taken care of everything, kiddo,” Tony said, squeezing his hand. “Well almost everything. You sir, have not been easy to take care of, as you haven’t even been around for me to care for you.”

Peter looked down, fidgeting with his covers as his face turned bright red.

Mr. Stark had it covered. Of course he did, he’s a billionaire, he can just hire people to keep everyone safe. Why didn’t Peter think of that before?

“I-I’m sorry. I thought it would be better for everyone if I just left, I thought you guys would be happier--”

“Pete, we could never be happy without you,” Tony said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You’re too nice kid. Always thinking about others and forgetting to think about yourself. You don’t have to help anyone else right now, just let me take care of you okay?”

Peter smiled and nodded, wiping a few stray tears from his eyes.

“Okay,” he said softly. Tony smiled and squeezed his hand again before speaking again.

“You feel comfortable? Is there anything I can get you? Extra pillows or something?”

“Oh um, actually could--”

Peter’s stomach cut him off with a loud rumble, and he could feel it squirming hungrily under his skin. He felt his face flush a deep red and Tony gave a small chuckle.

“Jeez, can’t believe I forgot, you’re starving aren’t you?” Tony said. He patted Peter’s belly, and reached for something below the bed. When he pulled an entire paper bag full of food up Peter thought he might just cry. “How many cheeseburgers do you think you can fit in that tummy of yours?”

Tony helped Peter sit up, careful to keep his injured shoulder still, and gave him a burger. Peter ate like he never had in his life, shoveling mouthfuls of bread and meat and cheese down as fast as he could.

“Woah, kid, you might wanna slow down there,” Tony said after a moment, but Peter wasn’t paying attention. His heart was pounding and his stomach was aching and he couldn’t seem to focus on anything other than eating and swallowing as much food as he could. The guilt of wanting to steal from a restaurant instead of saving that little family seemed to bubble to the surface of his mind, and he quickly distracted himself with more bites of food, hoping to bury the guilt under it all.

“Peter? Hey, Pete, baby you gotta slow down--”

His eyes began to sting, and his breathing soon became hyperventilating, and he tried to ignore it, ignore the horrible feeling in his chest at the sight of the terrified father and his son, hoping it would go away if he just made the ache in his belly stop.

“Peter!”

A hand snatched his wrist and Peter looked up wildly, a desperate whine in the back of his throat. Tears were streaming down his face now, and he swallowed the bite he still had in his mouth. The endless mountain of guilt that had been collecting in his chest since he ran away was finally topped off by the look of worry in Tony’s face.

Why did it remind him so much of the father in the alleyway?

The dams broke, leaving Peter to curl up and sob into his knees.

“Oh no, hey, kiddo, what’s wrong? It’s okay baby, you’re not in trouble I just didn’t want you to hurt yourself, I promise,” Tony said gently. When Peter didn’t answer he crawled up and sat on the bed next to him, wrapping his arms around Peter’s trembling shoulders.

“I-I messed up Mr. Stark,” Peter said in a trembling voice. “I fucked up, I fucked up everything, I ruined it--”

“Woah hey, what’re you talking about? What’s going on?”

Peter turned and clutched Tony, sobbing into his shirt as he explained all about the restaurant and the father and his son, and the woman in the alleyway. How he’d wanted to steal, how he didn’t go to save them right away, how he wanted to just leave them and go inside the warm, cozy looking restaurant and forget it ever happened.

When he eventually finished Tony didn’t say anything for a moment. Instead he just reached into the bag and brought out another cheeseburger, holding it out to Peter. Peter didn’t take it, still feeling guilty for having wanted this instead of wanting to help.

“Eat up kiddo, it’s okay. Just go slower this time.”

“I don’t deserve it.”

“Yes you do. Everyone deserves to eat, and that includes you. You didn’t do anything wrong back there Pete, it was just a moment. Doing the right thing can be… extremely hard sometimes. I’m telling you the truth when I say that most people in that situation would’ve left someone else to take care of it and gone inside without much of a second thought.”

“But I’m not most people Mr. Stark. I’m supposed to be the ‘someone else’, I’m supposed to be the hero. How can I call myself something like that if I didn’t want to help?”

Tony rubbed his hand over Peter’s shoulder, and held the cheeseburger right under Peter’s nose, causing his stomach to growl again. Peter took it with a sigh and started eating again to quell the monster in his belly.

“Like I said kid, it was just a moment. You were cold, tired, starving, and worst of all you felt betrayed. The people you’re trying to save turned against you, so of course you felt less inclined to help them. But the thing about you is, even if you get knocked around, you never think it’s okay to hurt them back. That’s why you changed your mind. You knew that even if they hated you, you couldn’t handle the idea of them being hurt when there was something you could do to stop it. Not everyone is like that kiddo, you’re special. Just because there was one moment where you felt bitter, doesn’t mean you’re not a hero anymore. You still saved that little boy and his dad, you were still a hero. Everyone falters, it’s just a matter of if they stay down.”

He put a hand under Peter’s chin, coaxing him to look up into his eyes.

“I’ve never known a kid like you to stay down for long.”

Peter gave a watery smile and buried his face against Tony’s chest as they clung to each other, each finally feeling like they could relax.

Peter spent the next few days recovering in the medbay, his Aunt having arrived at the Tower only half an hour after he woke up and making him swear never to pull something like that again. His friends also came to visit, and MJ sketched Peter and Ned as they built an Avengers Lego Quinjet together.

It was on his last day in the hospital that he woke up to see Tony slumped in a chair and his Aunt May snoring on his shoulder, and he finally felt at home again.

[soyeahitsmiddleearth]

i have a request for you! reader is a royal who doesn’t care for their title and therefore doesn’t enlighten the Company of their status. however, when they run into royal guards of reader’s kingdom who refer to them with their title, the Company is flabbergasted; especially Fíli, who has fallen head over heels for our main character. (I love your writing btw! never stop!)

Being royalty can be a real nuisance sometimes. 

Between fake friends, special treatment, ransom, and the looming knowledge that, someday, you will be forced to marry someone whom you do not love for people who don't care about you, there's no way you can be truly happy. 

Over the years you learned a great deal of different things, like how to bluff, how to break out of bindings, how to fight, and, ultimately, how to lie about who you are. 

It's really easy after all. 

The thing is, though, you've only learned these skills for the off chance that something happens to you. You're not allowed outside the castle without an escort, and all the battle training you've done has been under the watchful eye of your tutor and nanny. 

Of course, you learned how to become an excellent fighter away from their prying eyes, but it's still suffocating. 

And this is why you decided to run away! 

I know what you may be thinking; what kind of spoiled brat gives away such a cushy life for one of danger and uncertainty? 

Well, you of course!! 

You're tired of being kept in a cage; of being called, "Highness" and treated like nothing more than an accessory to the king; of having no purpose other than being a pawn to your father who will ship you off the moment a suitor comes along. You want to be who you are. A chance to grow and experience the world. A chance to fall in love on your own instead of forcing yourself to love someone you could not care less for. 

Also, your father, ultimately, did find you someone to marry, and when you asked who it was you learned that not only do you not know them, but they're also 30 years older than you.

All of these things are reasons you left. 

As soon as you escaped the palace there was panic, guards sent out everywhere to find you and bring you back, hand drawn posters put out on every street lamp and post, it was a whole fiasco. 

For a time there you were almost tempted to go back just so they would stop tormenting people over you, but when a greying old man came to you and stated that he knew who you are and that he wanted to give you the chance to go on an adventure, all thoughts of returning home flew out the window. 

You met a group of 13 dwarves and one small man that they call a hobbit. 

The wizard never told them who you are, so you didn't see much of a reason to enlighten them on your status either. 

It feels nice being treated so normally, something you aren't use to in the slightest, but it feels even nicer to make actual friends. 

Of course, there are some times where you act a bit off or bratty since you did grow up in a castle with people on your beck and call 24/7, but if they notice it nobody says anything about it. 

Thorin, Fili, and Kili, who also just so happen to be royalty themselves, were surprised by how normally you treated them. You spoke to them as if their titles meant nothing to you, joked and complimented them on various things where most would be horrified to do so, and it successfully won their favor. 

They don't know it's because you know what it's like to be in their shoes, to be treated specially and oddly just because you were born into a royal family, and you know to some extent that they have a desire to be treated as normal just like you. 

Of the three, Fili seemed to take to you the most. 

He likes the way you act so normally around him, how you actually care what happens to him and your loyalty to the company. 

At some point he actually begins to care for you a great deal more than he probably should, and once he comes to this realization, it's over for him. 

He began to do things for you that he hadn't before; like sleeping next to you, offering to accompany you when it's your turn to scout or get firewood, bringing you food in the mornings and at night, and even lending you one of his beloved knifes when the handle of yours broke after a conflict. 

When he started treating you differently, you feared at first that he found out who you are, but you soon realized that he just cares about you a lot- like a good friend should. 

Ever oblivious you are. 

You weren't exactly hiding it from them, the fact that you're basically next in line for the throne, but you didn't necessarily want them to find out either. 

It's actually right around the time when you began to think your kingdom gave up their search for you that things took a turn for the 'worse'. 

You were all staying in a town for the night, renting out some rooms at a lodging. You and Bilbo get to have your own room since you're not dwarves for one, but the next morning as you all set out to leave and are all well-rested, something happens. 

You're walking with Fili down the stairs of the place you all stayed, joking and laughing with each other while you follow the rest outside of the building when the dwarves in front of you both suddenly stop walking altogether. 

A soft 'oof' leaves you when you bump into Bifir since he abruptly ceased all movement, and when you look ahead to see what the fuss is about, your heart stops. 

"Halt!" Yells one of the 10 guards standing in a semi-circle around all of you. 

They wear both the colors and the emblem of your kingdom, so clearly they are here for you, but how the hell did they find you. 

Unconsciously you shrink back and half hide behind the door, glad to see that they haven't seen you yet. 

"What's the meaning of this?" Thorin asks angrily, reaching for his sword as he glares up at the armed men standing over them. 

"We have received word that the missing Y/N L/N has been spotted in this area traveling with a group of strange peoples." The guard states with a blank face, looking down at Thorin suspiciously. 

Uh oh, you're screwed. 

Fili looks up at you sharply, and duck behind the pillar quickly and crouch down, making yourself as small as possible. 

He's gonna sell you out and you're gonna be brought back to that horrible palace, chained up in your room for the rest of your life. 

"I have no recollection of coming across anyone of that name. Are they some sort of criminal?" 

Your eyes go wide when Thorin pretends not to know you, and you feel your heart fill with joy and appreciation. 

"Criminal? No. Try missing heir to the L/N dominion." The guard replies, seemingly less suspicious despite Thorin not really giving him any reason to believe him. "The Royal Highness has been missing for months, and the king and their intended are growing weary." 

"Was this Y/N kidnapped?" You hear Thorin inquire further, feeling sick to your stomach that all of your secrets are being aired out like this while you can't so much as get in a peep.

"Nobody knows for certain, though there has been a lot of speculation for both sides."

"It sounds like you've got a lot on your plate, kind sir. I hope your search goes well." Thorin states politely. 

The guard nods his head and states nicely, "Thank you."

"May I ask what you plan to do when you find them?" The dwarf presses a bit further, though he keeps his face neutral. 

There's a moment of silence, though your can't see exactly what's going on, when the guard replies with what you already know, "Take them to the palace where they can be wed to the Lord of our neighboring kingdom. 

"Fitting. If we hear anything we will send for you right away." 

"Then we will take our leave." The guard states, nodding at Thorin gratefully before marching off with the others who follow behind him. 

You stay in that same place crouched to the ground and huddled against the side of the pillar for a little while, and it's not until you feel a hand on your shoulder that you look up and see multiple confused faces peering down at you. 

You offer an awkward smile and say, "Well, that was crazy wasn't it?" 

"You're royalty?" Thorin asks, looking down at you with confused and curious eyes. 

"You're betrothed?" Fili breathes, his eyebrows furrowed. 

You nod your head slowly, pushing yourself to your feet before slowly mumbling, "Yes, and technically yes." 

A moment of silence passes by where everyone just stares in awe before Thorin says hesitantly, "If those guards find you, they will take you back by force?" 

This time you only nod, glancing off to the side nervously. 

"We're already behind schedule... we will discuss this later tonight." Thorin tells you decisively, reaching up to pat your arm lightly before turning and leaving the building. 

You stare after him in surprise, and it isn't until Fili mumbles your name that you snap out of it and go to follow. 

---

For the majority of the day you ride by yourself, for everyone seems to be acting more oddly around you.

It's not like anything has changed, they just know a little more about you, but still they act like everything is different now. 

The better part of your ride is spent in silence, and it's not until Fili's pony falls into step with your horse that your isolation ends. 

"You never told us." He begins, looking up at you curiously. 

"No, I didn't." You confirm, sighing quietly. 

"Why?" 

That's a bit harder to answer, but you try anyways, "Because...I didn't know if your uncle would let me come if he knew and I didn't want to be treated differently either. All my life I've had to abide by a certain set of rules and mannerisms, I've had to be taught how to spot fakes and to survive incase someone were to kidnap me for real... for once, just once, I wanted to live my life without somebody treating me specially because of who runs through my veins." 

He of all people should understand this, but your heart aches at the thought that he may just find you to be a selfish brat. 

"Why... did you leave?" He asks instead of acknowledging your answer. 

"I know there are many who have it worse than I, truly I can't even call it bad, but when I learned that I would be married off to somebody I've never met that is 30 my senior... I couldn't take it anymore. The fate tied to me is one that I would seldom wish on anyone, and so I left. I don't give a damn for that place, for they don't give one for me." 

A silence passes by that makes you uncomfortable, but you don't look down to see if he's watching you. You don't want to see the face he's making, no doubt one of disbelief or anger over how petulant and selfish you are. 

"I suppose I would've left to." 

You look down at him sharply at that, your eyes a bit wide since that is not what you were expecting in the slightest. 

"I understand. And when I say that I mean I actually understand. Truly." He looks up at you and offers a small smile, "People have expectations of you, and when you express that you never asked for all this responsibility you're seen as nothing more than a bratty child who doesn't understand what they have. When they find out who you are they will go to any lengths to be in your good favor. You never know who likes you for you or for your title. 

Slowly you nod your head. 

Really, what did you expect? Of course he would get it, he's living through it just as you are! Only he isn't running away from anything at the moment. 

"Yes, it's exactly like that." You hum, offering the dwarf a smile, "I don't know why I thought you wouldn't understand. You're probably one of the only ones who does." 

'Well, my uncle and Kili too, but yes..." He trails off, then adds, "So, you're an heir." 

This makes you scoff, but your face remains pleasant. "Unfortunately." 

"Do you... plan on going back?" He sounds more. nervous now, and you make note of that. 

"Not really, unless my intended is breathtakingly beautiful." You reply with a smirk, glancing down at the blond dwarf again. 

He clears his throat and asks just as anxiously, "Really...?" 

"Of course not! I want to be free to love whoever I want." You tell him, shaking your head while you speak, "I want to be with someone who I am both attracted to and happy with." 

Fili doesn't respond to that right away, but when he does speak his voice still remains hesitant, "What do you consider... attractive? Who would make you happy?" 

"Like qualities?" Before you do what your mind is telling you to, you need a bit of confirmation on his meaning. 

He only nods. 

"Hm... well, if I'm to start with what qualities make me happy, I would say kindness is very important. They would also have to be strong and fierce, loyal beyond belief, a warrior is always nice, a family man, and, certainly, they must be in love with me too." You begin, nodding along with yourself while a smile falls upon your lips. 

"And... my other question?" 

"Oh, right! I've always been rather fond of blonds, you should know. Thick hair, blue eyes, a brilliant smile- oh! They must have dimples. That's nonnegotiable..." You trail off and glance down at him, seeing that he's looking at you with wide, surprised eyes, "I've also a thing for shorter men, I don't know why for the life of me. Strength isn't a physical trait but I find that attractive, too." 

He's looking up at you with an awed expression on his face, and it successfully makes you smile. 

"And... there's one more thing." 

He gulps and asks shakily, "W-What's that?" 

"Mustache braids. They've got to be the most attractive thing a man can have! I'm most certain its a sign of an excellent kisser." Obviously it's cheesy, but you don't much care since you get to see his adorably red face. 

"I-It sounds like you already have someone in mind." He stutters, reaching up to rub the back of his braided head. 

"Yes, tell Bilbo I'll be looking for him once he grows out his hair will you-" You joke, watching as his eyes widen for a second before he smiles brightly and starts to laugh. 

"Oh! I'll be sure to tell him!" He exclaims, chuckling some more with the biggest and happiest smile on his face. 

"Also tell him that I'd care for him whether he holds the crown in his future or not. Those things don't really matter to me." 

"I can do that." 

You look ahead, the biggest smile ever on your face as well, "One more thing." 

"Yes?" 

"Tell him that I hope he doesn't look at me differently now that he knows who I really am." 

Fili doesn't reply right away to that, but when he does his voice is soft, "I know that he won't, because he loves you dearly and wouldn't care for your status whether you're a monarch to be or a struggling person scrambling to get by." 

"Wow, he sure has a way with words." You muse, reaching down to pat the top of his head while your other hand clutches the reins of your horse a bit tighter. 

"There's more where that came from." 

[hecohansen31]

To Kill A King

Ivar+Saxon Princess! Reader

The Stupid Believer:

Just when I thought I was Running out of time The King stood trembling at my bedside

“To Kill A King” by Hungry Lucy

(Masterlist) (Previous Chapter)

(A/N): Hello there lovelies!

I know that nobody reads this, but I just wanted to tell you two things:

1) THIS CHAPTER SUCK! (I mean... fluff and angst not mixed properly together+me overthinking everything...=utter shit) (so I am sorry, I hope the next one will be better!).

2) I might disappear a bit in the following days, because of personal reasons (related to tumblr and outside) so if I don’t reply/am very active, I am sorry, but I am doing what I think is best for myself.

As always: this series means so so much to me, so any feedback is more than welcome, everything starting from comments to reblogs, just LET ME NOW WHAT YOU THINK!

Feedback makes our fingers write faster and our heart beat faster!

Have a nice reading!

SUMMARY:  Pushed up to confront your previous 'owners', you delve in the joys of marital bliss, although nothing seems to last truly. Innocence and dreams even less.

WORDS: 19 K

WARNINGS: Arranged Marriage, Mention of Domestical Abuse and Rape, Violence (Strong Themes), Sexual Harassment, Slavery, Historically inaccurate, Blood and Period.

The ride on the chariot, this time, had been silent and although you weren’t sure, you had the sensation that Ivar went slower this time, almost as if he didn’t want to bring you there, as he held you against him, his own breath being uneven.

You thought about what English men wanted from you.

You almost dreaded the thought of being wanted back.

It made you feel like an object.

Nothing more than a vase to be traded.

The brothers had started off before you, to allow you the privacy to converse in peace and finish what they had interrupted, but Ivar hadn’t said anything, the intimacy you had owned a few moments before completely shredded to pieces, as he harshly suggested you adjusted your hair.

Strands of grass were in them, alongside the evident traces of Ivar’s kiss, since they had been evidently brushed up by Ivar’s bigger hands.

He still looked for your hand as you were finally ready to face the English warriors, and he had helped you again on the chariot, making sure to dust off the remaining of grass from your clothes as you did the same on his own.

You almost wanted to say comforting words, such as the ones you had saidion the small private piece of heaven, Ivar had offered you.

But this wasn’t the time.

And you couldn’t promise Ivar to stay if your father wanted you back.

You hoped it wasn’t what would have happened, since it would have certainly awakened the war you had been sold to finish.

Your father wouldn’t have been that stupid.

You hoped.

You met the English warriors at the border of the camp and you immediately recognized them as the border patrol unit, a rather smaller one in the English army, mostly travelling to make sure the borders and treaties were respected both by the heathen and both by the lords of England, that might use a moment of instability to gain more lands.

Like your father.

Gosh, he was quite clouding your mind, since you couldn’t help but feel like whatever was happening, he was for sure involved in it.

Nervousness flickered through you as Ivar beside you held his most unimpressed expression, something that made you uneasy, since this way he was quite difficult for you to understand him.

You wanted to hug him, since the feeling of his strong body was almost comforting to you, but it would have been highly inappropriate, even more now that you were faced with your own old motherland.

You quickly moved in front of the brothers, although Hvitserk, made sure to stand beside you on the side that Ivar didn’t occupy already, gently pushing an hand on your shoulder, as if he understood your uneasiness.

And then you were fully in front of your previous kinfolk.

And you didn’t recognize a single one of them, almost as if entire years had passed since you had started your new life in the Viking settlement.

It was better to get this over before nervousness got to you.

“I am princess (Y/N)” you screamed in order to be heard by the scouts, since a lengthy distance was between the two armies, with the Vikings seemingly ready to attack at any moment, meanwhile the Saxons looked quite fearful, even more because they weren’t in the slightest enough counterattack the heathens “… why have I been summoned, here?”.

Your words seemed more annoyed than you had intended them to be, but the memory of Ivar’s lips on yours was still recent, and the way his hand gently pressed its way in your arms, already made you missing of the intimacy you had shared.

No cunning thoughts or mischievous plans between you two.

You had expected a few soldiers of your father to appear, although none of them wore its emblem, but then the crowd of soldiers opened, revealing, finally, a familiar face.

A fair-haired boy walked in front of the army, his light grey eyes searching for something, till they set on you, as his steady body finally seemed to relax.

Alexander appeared in your full view, and for once since all this meeting had been announced, you were happy to see a Saxon face among them, as he moved closer to you, walking the lengthy distance between the two formations, till both Hvitserk and Ubbe stepped up to stop him.

Your arm immediately shot up to the younger brother, as you pushed him back lightly, even going as far as to pull his hair to catch his attention and you whispered in his ear that you knew him.

And Alexander’s eyes, now, spoke of a similar recognition.

And soon, his hands moved to do what his eyes spoke of, as he, after both the brothers had been reeled back, pushed you in his arms, lightly raising you off the ground, making you giggle.

He twirled you laughing of happiness, making you completely forget where you were.

And then when he set you down, you had forgotten all around yourself.

Not many people, back in the castle had been your friends, truly.

But Alexander had been your dearest friend.

And your first crush.

Although that ship had sailed and sunk long ago.

“… what are you doing, here?” you giggled softly, as you tried to adjust your hair behind your ears, meanwhile Alexander regarded your strange outfit of the day, something that made you blush, but you coughed lightly to bring his attention back to your question.

“We are actually here for you, (Y/N)” he spoke softly, before he straightened up his back, pushing himself in a more honorable position, as if he hadn’t just broken the entire castle etiquette, in hugging you in that way “… we are here to check on you, princess (Y/N)”.

“Why?” you were honestly surprised to discover the reason, mostly because it made you almost feel like you had done something wrong.

Was your father not happy of the little information you had given him?

Alexander lightly lowered his stance, almost conspiratorially.

“… we have heard news that you had been accused of having poisoned a prince and were facing a trial for that…” realization hit your face, as you lightly moved to turn your head back, recognizing among the many Viking faces Heahmund’s one, who looked honestly relieved at seeing the small Saxon army.

And then your eyes fell onto Ivar, as your head made to turn to Alexander.

His mouth was slightly agape, as his eyes held a brokenness in them that made you shift your whole attention to him, as you noticed that his hands had been left around in the position they were when he was holding onto you.

You immediately reached around, pushing one hand between you and your heart broke at the eagerness Ivar showed in taking it, before his face became again impossible to understand, as he shifted his eyes away from you, as if he hadn’t been bothered by your intimacy with Alexander a few minutes before.

“It isn’t anything too bad” you mumbled lightly in Norse “… he is a friend”.

He just grunted, and knowing that he wouldn’t hear any explanation, you turned heavily to Alexander, glad that Ivar’s hold on your hand was still a small link between you.

“… I was” shock appeared in Alexander’s eyes “… but it was all a plot against Ivar, all the accusations fell quickly yesterday and my life is alright, I am sorry you had to come here for nothing, my father must have been truly annoyed to have to send..”.

“It is not your father who sent us” your friend spoke and you were immediately surprised, shock written all over your face “… our God-blessed king Alfred asked us to check on you, to make sure that you were safe”.

“I am”.

You wanted all of this to cut itself quickly, since you could feel the tension between the two armies, because although they were in no one’s land, it didn’t mean it couldn’t be conquered.

“I’d like to make sure of it myself” spoke Alexander, as he grabbed on the hand that Ivar didn’t hold, making effectively the worst move possibly, because as he gripped forward, Ivar gripped you back to himself, effectively overpowering your friend.

And you cursed yourself for being stuck between two men.

“… my wife told you she is fine, Saxon, now go back to your lands” Ivar’s words were a veiled threat, and although you didn’t like his tone and sent him an harsh glare to remind him of his tone.

“I said I’d like to prove it myself” replied in an even more hissing tone, Alexander, holding himself as arrogantly as he could, something that always fascinated you, but right now, against Ivar’s sheer power, he looked like a boy who was challenging a man.

“And I do think that I have a saying in this” you surprised the two men, pipping in, as you broke away from both grips, meanwhile Hvitserk behind you giggled at the ridiculousness “… Alexander, has my tongue ever been anything less than truthful?”.

He shook his head at your reprimand as Ivar shook his head, already tasting victory, and you decided to take advantage of it, turning to him, as you joined your hands together.

Truly the portrait of the perfect couple.

“… I’ll walk with him to make sure that he comes back to the army, I won’t leave your view, don’t worry” you knew it sounded almost pathetic, but Ivar didn’t already seemed pleased to solely leave your hand “… it is a necessity that I show him that I am not hurt”.

“I would never hurt you” spoke tenderly Ivar, as his hand broke away from the hold of yours, lightly caressing your face to reinforce the concept, a gesture that made you smile softly, as you leaned in the simple touch “… he dishonor my land and men saying that”.

Why with men it was always about honor?

“… I know” you spoke softly “… but they don’t know it, so just let me show them that I am happy with you”.

The words seemed to hit him deeply.

But never as much as they hit with you.

Because they were the truth.

You had been happy with him.

Not always and sometimes he could be quite a pain in the ass, but…

… he made you smile.

“… I swear that nothing will happen” you promised “… I swear it on the crown”.

That seemed to get to Ivar, whose tense expression disappeared in a smirk, as his other hand went to your waist, something that made you breathe out at his boldness.

“… are you using my ideas against me?” he commented with that insane arrogance, that made you want to slap him and kiss him at the same time.

Oh Gosh, wouldn’t you have liked to be still there in your own private heaven, on top of him, tasting him as he explored your body.

And at the same time, shame brought a slight blush all over your body, starting from your neck and pushing itself on your cheeks.

“Am I not supposed to be your smart wife?” you retorted, and he seemed to enjoy it.

“… that’s more like cunning” he replied, before he brought your hand to his lips, a mark of possessiveness in his reply that made you smirk softly “… walk him back and tell them to leave”.

You nodded, as you turned to Alexander, who tried and failed to hide his confusion, and you suddenly noticed that you had spoken in Norse, without even noticing it with Ivar.

“… let’s go, my proud knight” you commented offering him his arm, as both Hvitserk and Ubbe were told to back off by Ivar, who turned his back to you, going back to his cart, meanwhile his brothers trailed after him, something mischievous in Hvitserk’s eyes.

You were glad you didn’t have to deal with his annoying questions.

Alexander took your arm, almost as if he didn’t believe it fully and gently started walking, at a slower pace than your own.

You kept in silence, till you were a bit away from heathens and then Alexander moved to talk, finally:

“Is it true that you aren’t in danger, anymore?” he asked “… Heahmund sent a letter and your sister Kathleen received it…”.

That explained the urgency and fear in Alexander’s arrival at the camp.

Gosh, it made you miss Kathleen.

With all the turn of events and the need to desperately win Ivar over, you hadn’t thought much about the love you had for your sister.

The loyalty that bound all of you.

“… and she convinced king Alfred to send a dispatch of border soldiers to check on you” Alexander continued to explain, as a small smirk appeared on your face.

“How did Kathleen manage to convince father and him?” you asked, honestly surprised, because although you knew that your sister Kathleen could drag the Devil away from his throne, you didn’t know how much a man like king Alfred might be pushed to agree on such a deal.

It made you wonder what was going on in the castle, during your absence.

“… it’s Kathleen” he commented tightly, shooting you a look as if to say ‘you know how she is’ “… she never wanted to play Guinevere’s parts when we played ‘The Legend of Arthur’, insisting she’d make a dashing Lancilot”.

“That she did”.

And that had always let Abigail be Guinever, meanwhile you were the witch Morgan, always being fascinated with such creatures, since it had made you feel powerful in your own way.

You had never been as strong as Kathleen or as cunning as Abigail, so to have magical powers…

… it had been a dream from you.

Imagination had been your sole weapon against your dull reality.

Alexander was the son of one of your father’s lords, a smaller one, cursed by the fact that that he was the second male child, hence he wouldn’t inherit much, unless he forged his own Destiny.

He would have been the least adapt match for you, according to your father.

But that had only invigorated the love that you had felt for him.

Although right now, with the knowledge of past facts, you knew it wasn’t anything more than an infatuation.

It was puppy love: you had always admired the strength of Alexander, the way he was so bright and funny, in a way that charmed anybody who had ever come upon his path.

But you had soon discovered that you weren’t the sole one charmed by him.

You had once caught him with one of the kitchen servants, and that had been the end of your first ever love story.

You had been heartbroken, mostly when he always promised you to run away with you, away from your father and his cruelty to be his own Guinevere.

But that had never happened.

And your dreams had been shattered.

From then on it had been simply a good friendship between you, although you hadn’t had much time to spend together since he had been enrolled against the heathens, even going as far as being sent to Ireland in some scouting missions, so you hadn’t seen him in quite some time.

Your mind had been quite troubled lately so the thought of him hadn’t crossed your mind, even more since your love for him had become a more tender affection.

“… and you are safe, aren’t you?” he asked, as he gently made you to turn around to face him “… they don’t mistreat you, do they?”.

“They don’t” you commented as you breathed out, trying to keep yourself the absolute calmest “… they have been welcoming, if you don’t count the fact that I was involved in a ploy to belittle Ivar”.

“You call him Ivar?” almost disbelief spoke in his eyes as you said that.

“What should I call him?” you shot back “… I do call him ‘husband’, if you are curious”.

“I am just…” he seemed at lack of words at your reply “… and you have even learned Norse, I just… feel like…”.

“I did what I had to do to survive” you commented, a flare of anger appearing in your eyes at Alexander’s questions, which reminded you of Heahmund, alongside the accusation hid behind them.

That you had turned away from the rightful way to the heathen’s one.

“That is right” Alexander commented, his uneasiness finally calming, as he moved to softly grab onto one of your hands “… I am sorry I wasn’t able to stop this from happening, you didn’t deserve it”.

“… you didn’t know, and you couldn’t have done much, knowing my father” you replied lowly, as you gripped back onto his hand, gently rubbing your thumb on the back of it “… I am actually surprised that you are here, I thought you were in Ireland, during your own scouting duties”.

“Alwin died” he replied and finally his eyes became darker with grief and you weren’t able to stop surprise from appearing on his face, at the news that Alexander’s older brother and heir to his father’s lands had died “… fighting against the heathens, although father didn’t want him to”.

“My condolences to you and your father” you spoke, measuring your words.

Although Alexander and Alwin had never been truly tight-knit brothers, always in competition for their father’s attention, you knew that it must have destroyed him to have that news, even more when his eyes showed the guilt of not having been able to protect his brother.

You understood him all too well.

“Father then had me coming back, although I told him I’d still be in the scouting legion, even more when I discovered what had happened to you” his eyes spoke of a true pain at the knowledge of what had befell on you, and you smiled trying to reassure him.

“… although this isn’t my ideal life, they treat me well, I swear it on the Holy Virgin” you promised him softly “… they haven’t ever hit me and Ivar…”.

‘… and Ivar kisses me like I am the only woman in the whole world for him’.

Your cheeks reddened at that thought.

“… he is gentle with me”.

Alexander didn’t look convinced and you knew that you hadn’t much time or options to convince him.

“… just give me more time” he suggested softly, as he pleaded to you, grabbing your hands with the same gesture Ivar had done not too long ago, and his deep grey eyes faced you, surprising you even further when he lowered himself on his knees “… please, my brave gentle princess, accord more time to me, so that I can let your sister know that you are safe and sound”.

Although the entire set-up was almost comical, this might have been quite the problem, because Ivar had clearly shown up that he didn’t like in the slightest the thought of Saxon men on his borders, but at the same time Alexander was stubborn.

You knew it all too well.

“Settle up for the night, I’ll talk with my husband” you pointed out the last word, as Alexander nodded eagerly, bringing your hand to his lips, and although you blushed at the silly gesture you couldn’t help but feel hollow from the small crush you had felt before.

“… you are an angel, princess”.

“I better be, because I’ll need a miracle to convince Ivar”.

---

“This is an insult!” in fact screamed Ivar, as you and his brothers held a private council in the main hall.

You had informed Ivar of everything on the chariot and although his focus hadn’t left for a single moment the control of the horse, he had stilled underneath you.

He was actively avoiding to let his anger feast on you, but he was bitter and he wouldn’t have had such a dishonoring command over himself.

“… and the people won’t have it” added Ubbe, sending you a small look as if to say ‘it is all your fault’, something that made you turn a bright smile at him, as you adjusted in the chair next to Ivar.

“I know” you commented, trying to calm all the souls around you “… but also the Saxons wouldn’t have left, if I hadn’t promised to try to let them stay and see me”.

“We can fight them” commented Hvitserk, drinking heavily from his horn, as you sent him an unbelieving glare, but immediately Bjorn backed him up, indeed reminding you that the Vikings had a completely different mindset from the Saxons.

And you were stuck between them, trying to find an agreement,

“You might, but it would destroy the peace my marriage sealed” and you sent a pleading look to Ivar, whose eyes still kept away from you, making you damnably nervous “… and you might defeat a scouting legion, but it’ll just put you to risk”.

“People will question this decision” Ivar simply commented, as he sent you a small look as if to ask you whether you realized the chaos that would ensue by your decision.

“… and you aren’t exactly popular among them” replied tightly Ubbe, something that this time got him a harsh look from you, as Ivar said a quick ‘don’t talk like that to my wife’.

It made you dizzy, to know that he defended you like that.

“… it isn’t exactly my fault for that” you commented “… but we could use the celebrations as an excuse: we invited the Saxons over to show them our victory over them, hiding this behind the semblance of a peaceful negotiation”.

The brothers didn’t seem convinced in the slightest, although they agreed begrudgingly, knowing that neither the opponents would have backed down and this was the best option for both.

“It isn’t enough” mumbled Ivar darkly, as he shot you a small look “… we don’t gain anything from this, and nobody of our warriors will celebrate next to some Saxon”.

“Then say that it is for an agreement for new lands” Ivar looked at you confused “… I have some lands to my name from my mother’s side, exclusively, say I have given them to you as a wedding gift and the Saxons are here to ensure the sanctity and rightfulness of the agreement”.

Your mother had bounded, before dying, some lands to your and your sisters’ names exclusively, to ensure that no matter what befell you, you’d have something for your dowry or to survive.

The question of these lands had annoyed your father, because he couldn’t have them and neither he could have used them as his own, as they were exclusively yours and they could be controlled solely by you, when you had come of age or married.

They weren’t as big as your actual dowry, but without a doubt they could have seemed quite the deal for Ivar, who simply looked at you surprised at that revelation, risking of choking on his ale, but he immediately composed back, agreeing to this with a tight nod.

“… then send the message that the Saxons are staying simply for that” he announced to his brothers, and you could see a similar grimace appear on both Bjorn’s and Ubbe’s faces.

They didn’t like that their younger brother chose for them.

But they didn’t say much, excusing themselves to spread the news, meanwhile Hvitserk stood in the room, painfully unwanted, till Ivar told himself to wait for you outside.

He had to exchange a few words with you privately and then Hvitserk would accompany you back to your tent, in order for you to write a letter to the Saxons, alongside talking with Heahmund, something that you didn’t tell Ivar, although it was high on your list of things to do.

Hvitserk trotted back, quickly, although he shot you a light smirk, as if he knew what you meant to do in your free time, and you weren’t able to stop the slight blush from appearing on your face.

Ivar did share a bit of red also on his cheeks, but his eyes were sharp till Hvitserk moved away, and then they settled on you, extremely tame with their thoughts making them appear like a storm, held back solely by wind.

“… I won’t take your lands” it was a bare answer, a whisper of indeed a storm that was starting, and you felt shaken to your very core by that revelation.

“What?”.

Any man would have seized all your belongings without a second thought or even asking you for your opinion, something that you personally found barbaric to say the least.

It was how court and wives worked.

It was how life had always worked.

Women were just the means to gain more lands and properties.

“… your lands will stay yours” he promised “… I’ll give them back to you as a wedding gift”.

“There is no need…” you started, but Ivar’s eyes shut you up quickly, as a hand of his went to thread itself in your hair, making you look up at him.

“They are your mother’s, aren’t they?” he searched your eyes for the truth, but you still nodded to assert it “… then they’ll never belong to me”.

“Thank you” you couldn’t help but appreciate the gesture that made you smirk softly, as you joined your hand with Ivar’s, gently bringing it to your lips, as the boy in front of you smiled softly.

“… and I have no interest in lands in England” he commented, trying to move away the attention from the gentleness he had showed “… Kattegat is my home”.

And soon it would have been yours too.

---

You adjusted yourself on the chair to the table you had been sat on for the previous half an hour, the letter meant for Alexander half-written, as you played around with the tip of the feather you were writing with, constantly annoyed by Angelika, who stood on your bed.

The handmaidens had all been excused, once you had arrived back in the tent, except for Turid who had been sent to retrieve and give an hour to bishop Heahmund, in order for you to meet up and tell him what would have been happening next.

What had happened now that you knew where his loyalties laid.

You also wanted to reinstate your strength and power over him, since he had seemed to forget about it.

As much as you damnably appreciated his attempt in helping you, the fact that he had sent a letter for your father without helping you or contacting you first, showed much of the true purpose of his staying beside you.

Something that you couldn’t have when you were stuck in the Viking settlements solely with him as your ally.

“… so, was you day with prince Ivar good?” Angelika asked you as you were rereading the last line you had written, almost throwing the feather out of your hands at the boldness of your handmaiden.

“None of your business” you replied, sharply, trying to focus again your attention on the letter, but Angelika smirked like a feline who knew that had hit a sore spot.

“… oh c’mon… don’t you want to tell me all the lovely moments you shared?” she continued on poking on you “… is he even able of some romance?”.

“Why isn’t Lia or Arabella here?” you wondered, raising your eyes up to the sky, annoyedly, although you were almost tempted to confess her the way you had felt for Ivar.

You had never had friends to who you could confess your own emotion and thoughts.

Your father’s court was a nest of snakes.

You had learnt early not to trust anybody with most of your thoughts.

You had grown up guarded, except with your sisters.

And without them you found yourself uneasy, both because you couldn’t talk with anybody about how you felt and both because the sole thought of confessing everything that was going through your mind tempted you and hurt you at the same time.

“… they are at training” she explained, although that annoying smirk didn’t leave her face.

“Why aren’t you there with them?” you commented, spitting the same softened venom you used for her.

“I wouldn’t want to hurt myself” she shot back tightly, and then she moved to highlight her face “… I wouldn’t want to ruin the only precious thing I own”.

“Dashing” you muttered, but it was only partially venomous, since you couldn’t help but notice the sad truth in her words: women truly didn’t own much but their beauty in this sick world “… it was nice… with prince Ivar”.

Her eyes caught fire at that small affirmation.

“Did you kiss him?”.

Now you were burning red hot and the letter was forgotten on your desk, and you turned quickly to her, definitely giving her the answer she was looking for and with a very ungraceful movement, she fell with her back on the side of your bed, laughing loudly.

“Oh Gosh! You kissed the heathen!”.

“Lower your voice, Angelika” you ordered her, although it was more an ashamed shriek, as the handmaiden didn’t even try to shut her sharp mouth “Somebody will hear!”.

“As if kissing your husband was something to be ashamed …” commented the same girl who had called your husband a ‘monster’ “… unless he is a bad kisser that is”.

Your cheeks reddened further and Angelika sent you a look as if to ask if she had guessed right, but you just shook your head, leaving your chair and your letter, since your head didn’t seem to have any idea on how to continue, your mind taken back to what it had felt with Ivar.

The gentleness and the respect his exploration had given you, as he softly took your lips in his, in a soft pressure that almost made you taste heaven.

And yet that same kiss opened the doors of hell beneath you.

But had you ever cared for that?

“… he is very good” you commented, not knowing fully why your lips were felt so loose all of a sudden “… but… I am not… as versed as him…”.

“… why doesn’t that surprise me?” replied the other girl, before she made you fall with a quick grab on your waist, so that you were at them same level, something that made you extremely nervous, never having been this close to another girl that wasn’t blood-related with you.

And after Caryn’s betrayal, the proximity hurt you even more.

But Angelika’s eyes were captivating and soon the embarrassment slowly eased up.

“… I could teach you” now they held the same wickedness of a big cat “… we could practice together”.

The suggestion made you redden significatively and you threw her a shocked expression, immediately raising yourself up, as she erupted in laughter.

And although you knew she was teasing you, it wasn’t insulting.

“Thank you for the suggestion, but no” you commented tightly, as you adjusted yourself, in a seated position, right when Turid opened the tent to check in whether you were comfortable to talk with Heahmund.

You blushed but nodded, excusing Angelika off, as you adjusted your hair, already knowing that your outfit of the day would have shocked enough the bishop, since you hadn’t changed from the outfit you had worn for your walk with Ivar.

Angelika moved annoyedly away, meanwhile Turid pushed Heahmund in, taking her leave, alongside Angelika, although her eyes shone of wickedness and you weren’t sure about whether she’d just leave, or she’d spy onto the conversation.

“… it is good to see you safe and sound” commented tightly the bishop, as he immediately came to you, kneeling before you and kissing your hand as a sign of respect, but you kept your eyes tight on him, steely and royally pissed “… I have heard that the scouting army came to check on you, my lady…”.

“Thank to you” it was a sarcastic mutter, and Heahmund soon noticed it, raising his head, to finally notice your bad humor.

“You aren’t happy with my actions, princess” his voice was almost a reprimand in itself and you held his glare, as you pushed out your breath, straightening your back.

“… not in the slightest, bishop” you replied, hissing through your teeth, something of your stance taking after the postures you had seen in Ivar “… you called my father, before even trying to help me”.

“I wouldn’t have done it, had I had any other choice!” he protested “… the Vikings wouldn’t let me see you and neither hear me, and let me tell you I couldn’t think of any other choice than to ask your father”.

Although you absolutely recognized Heahmund’s reasonings, his act had damaged you greatly, almost making you risk your life again.

Had he been truly worried for you, he’d have asked anybody but your father, since it was instead clear that his letter hadn’t been a scream of help for your own health, but a worry for your purpose in the settlements.

And it hurt you, although you knew that to your father and him you didn’t matter much more than for what you could give to them both.

“… next time you have to send a letter to my father, you’ll ask me or my handmaidens before” your voice this time didn’t ask for any replies, as it became steely rigid and strong “… and from now on if I ever catch on any information I’ll be the one to send you letters, there will be no need for you to come here”.

Heahmund’s eyes spoke of his complete humiliation at those orders followed by a blinding rage, but he simply nodded, bowing and taking his leave without being excluded.

“Bishop Heahmund” you called him one last time “… my father might not care the destiny that befell me, but let me tell you that I am much more influential than my position might let you think. For now, I have the strength to make this mission end well or badly, and I won’t undervalue it”.

“Understood” that was what you wanted to hear, and you excused him, dropping on the bed, as you had done with Angelika, feeling a series of emotion that made you almost nauseous for the various shifting they did in your mind.

You had always known that your life mattered little in your father’s hands, but you hadn’t thought it was that little, enough that you weren’t in charge of your own decision.

And that if you had overstepped your boundaries, your father would have gladly left you to die.

It hadn’t passed unnoticed to you that Alexander had said that it had been Alfred who had sent the army, because of Kathleen’s talks.

You already knew that your father didn’t care for you, even more for the shame you would have brought on his line, getting caught so early, before you could be truly useful.

He wouldn’t have taken you back, ever, now that you were tainted.

You knew that if you didn’t die on this mission by Ivar or his men’s hands, you father would have taken the thing in his own hands.

And had he ever taken pity on you, he wouldn’t have allowed much more than a shed in the wood, with no help except yourself to witness your slow death.

You had never thought that your Destiny would have been so horrible.

But now all the signs showed that no matter the momentary peace you were having, you would have had an unhappy ending.

You had been too busy with making Ivar like you at first and then protecting your own ass, but now that you thought about it, it just…

… it made you feel hollow.

Not because you were scared of death.

In death you would have found your mother again, and you would have been free from the pain of your earthly body.

But did your life matter so little truly?

A few weeks ago you thought that your life did matter so little, since in the end there wasn’t much you could bring to the table, still now you found it difficult to find yourself worthy of your title and life.

But Ivar’s words spoke to your mind, alongside the small goals you had accomplished in the camp, defeating Halfdan and Harald, creating your own court and making yourself known, as you spied on it.

You were training, your body was becoming stronger and you had found yourself being smart enough to find a solution, to talk with Ivar and be appreciated by him, because although he might not have felt love for you, he clearly admired your ways.

You could have allied with Ivar to avoid such a pitiful ending.

You could have confessed what you had been obliged to do, hoping in his anger he might see the advantage of having you by your side, although you couldn’t offer much more than your brain and your pretty face.

But what would have been of your sisters?

They would have been left to rot, maybe your father would have killed Abigail, since she wasn’t useful to him or his heir.

And you wouldn’t have survived it.

One thing was to play with your life, another was to play with your sisters’.

“… are you alright?” you were brought back by your awful thought by Hvitserk, as you immediately pushed yourself in a seated position, trying to shift away a grimace from your face as he walked in “… did the priest annoy you? Ivar will have him killed…”.

“That’d be a relief” you commented darkly, surprising the ever-cheerful Hvitserk, but then a pure look of focus fell onto his face “… I was joking”.

“Just give me the order, princess”.

“… I won’t forget it” you smiled at him sadly, as you got up, thinking that if you had spent more time with this situation on your mind, you would have probably ended up with your head growing as big as an oak.

It was better to train a bit to release the feeling of dreariness your heart held at the moment, ignoring the unfinished letter, since you didn’t know anymore what words to find.

“… did you and my brother fight?” he asked, trying to urge you in talking, seeing that you were quite unresponsive “… because I thought you looked pretty cozy back then, in the field…”.

You blushed red till even your ears were of that color.

“No, we didn’t fight…”.

“Then did you kiss?” now you were going to surely pass out from your overheated cheeks, since you couldn’t help but be embarrassed as you remembered the notion of having been caught in such a compromising position.

“… why is everyone so obsessed with knowing the details of my private life?” you muttered loudly, sending Hvitserk a pointed look, but he, exactly like Angelika didn’t back down.

“Oh please” pleaded Hvitserk, pushing his hands in a mocking pleading pose “… pretty please (Y/N) give me something to tease my brother with”.

“You won’t find an ally in me for annoying your brother” you retorted, with a tight smirk, as you pushed him lightly away, gaining a gleaming look from Hvitserk.

“… oh, pretty please, my princess” he insisted making you huff out loudly.

“Annoy your brother and not me” you simply finished the conversation, although you couldn’t help but be feel yourself a bit calmer.

But those horrible thoughts you continued on having quite the influence on you, hanging on your head like a Damocles’ sword.

“… then at least let me know when you and Angelika will practice kissing”.

You couldn’t help but be shocked by this confession, even more as you realized what Hvitserk had to do to hear those words.

He had listened on your conversation.

“… did you…” your voice choked in worry, and you tried to shove it down “… did you overhear what I was talking about with Angelika?”.

Hvitserk seemed to feel your uneasiness and quickly pushed up his hands as if to defend himself.

“… I just was by the tent” he commented tightly “… I left before the priest entered, wouldn’t want to ruin the secret of your confession?”.

A tight grimace was welcomed by a blanker expression, as you tried to calm yourself down, glad that he hadn’t heard of your talking with Heahmund.

“Don’t listen on any of my conversation” you replied biting your lips, as you pointed out each word “… because if you do, I’ll put poison ivy in your bed”.

“Oh, I am used to it, it won’t affect me anymore” he grinned wickedly, but you had another idea, as you raised up from the bed, knowing perfectly that Hvitserk would follow, as you exited the tent.

“Then I’ll curse you” your words were light and easy, unlike his meaning.

And Hvitserk’s grin dropped quickly.

“… how… how would you do that?” he asked, as you simply moved forward, and he kept on running after you till the stable, meanwhile you muttered something in Latin.

‘Rosa, rosae, rosae…’.

And he simply looked at you with worried eyes.

“… what was that?”.

“Just a little warning” you commented, getting Bukefalos out of his stables.

“… you are joking, aren’t you, (Y/N)?”.

But you ignored him, and before you knew it you heard him cursing loudly as he accidentally pressed his boot in horse shit.

Sometimes curses didn’t have to be real to work.

---

Training with Nanna had destroyed you and as you had been forced to attend dinner in the main hall, you had almost fallen asleep with your head in the soup.

Nanna had insisted on training double, since you hadn’t attended the previous lesson, something that left you breathless and tired, even more since you had been forced to move from the defense to attack stances, something that made you uneasy, to say the least.

You didn’t feel comfortable in the slightest using violence against anybody, because not only being attacked reminded you of your father, but knowing how to kill wouldn’t have made you similar to that man you dreaded the absolute most?

‘Why do I have to learn how to attack others?’ you had muttered to Nanna, as the woman tried to teach you how to properly punch somebody, reminding you of taking the thumb out of the fist.

She had seemed to almost take personal offense to that.

‘… how do you expect to maintain your throne if you don’t fight’.

You had explained to her, that you had your own throne set up and you hadn’t much to worry, although all your thoughts of the previous afternoon weren’t comforting in the slightest.

‘… you should actually worry about your throne, even more with an husband like that’ her comment about Ivar had appeared bitter and you had tried your best to nod your head softly, taking in what looked like interesting information ‘… Ivar wants the crown’.

‘He already has it’ you had mumbled ‘… he is a prince, with numerous victories and conquered lands on his part’.

‘… and he wants more’ she had simply replied, her lips turning in a bitter expression ‘… he wants the crown of Kattegat, which Lagertha, the current queen of Kattegars, his father’s land, is withholding away from him, and believe me, he’ll fight for it and you’ll have too’.

You hadn’t replied anything anymore, although the knowledge of Ivar’s plans didn’t make you in any way more comfortable or less at uneasy about this entire day, and you almost wished it’d just be over soon.

But it certainly all explained why the brothers’ relationships were so tense among them.

And why Ivar had called you ‘queen’.

You felt him nudging you lightly, as you stood with the spoon so close and yet so far away from your mouth, stopped midair.

You quickly pushed the soup in your mouth, grimacing at the fact that the soup had grown cold, but forcing a few more bites of it on your mouth, because although you weren’t hungry, your body needed some food.

“… want me to feed you” commented Ivar, with a smirk on his face as he drunk a cup of ale, meanwhile you sent him a light glare, through your hooded eyes, pushing a final spoon past your lips, keeping it there, as you sleepily looked for a small towel to clean your face “… it has been a tough day, we’ll go to sleep, as soon as you are done with food”.

“Can you pass me your crutch? I might need it to go back” you mumbled, as you leaned lightly on him, for the simple fact that he was damnably warm and you were lightly cold from the bath you had done before coming there, your hair lightly damp, but pushed in a soft updo to dry them faster.

“… you certainly didn’t lose your humor alongside your appetite” he laughed, before he took in your hand to help you up, excusing you and him from his brothers, who barely sent him a look, except Hvitserk who told him that ‘he shouldn’t work you so hard’ and ‘he should give you a break’, in a way that seemed to reference to something that you and Ivar had never done together.

“… Hvitserk, want anymore horseshit?” you mumbled, unable to withhold any curtesy, something that got to Hvitserk quickly as he sat back down, meanwhile you felt Ivar hide a small smirk behind his hand.

The rest of the walk was done in silence, as you slumped next to each other, your handmaidens welcoming you inside, and you dismissed them, giving them some orders for tomorrow, as you felt a strange agitation brewing among them since, the following day, you were supposed to be choosing a dress for the party that was to be held in three days.

The girls had been told that they could have chosen a dress each in order to properly take part to the celebrations, and they had been thrilling happily for the whole afternoon, and you doubted they’d be able to sleep, too excited for the dresses.

Unlike you.

You unfastened Ivar’s braces, noticing that although he had humored you back at the dinner table, he now seemed almost distant to you, and you didn’t know if he was simply tired or there was something more.

But at the same time, deep down, you knew that with Ivar there was something more.

He was already in bed, when you finished brushing your hair and you were in your nightgown, dragging your heavy limbs towards the bed, as you sat on its end, being able to face Ivar, who looked extremely surprised by your position.

“Is anything wrong?” you thought about asking, although Ivar simply shook his head “… is it… is it for Alexander?”.

You had hit straight up in the bullseye, with the way his eyes shone of true annoyance.

“… we are solely friends” you commented “… I was a lonely child and he was the only one who indulged in silly games”.

Still silence, and you thought that if it had to go on like this, you had to drop the big news.

“… and I did have a slight infatuation on him, back then”.

This got to him, finally.

He simply moved to push himself in a seated position.

“… do you still like him?” it was a demand that made you laugh, as Ivar looked at you extremely serious.

“As a friend, but nothing more than that” you simply stated “… I… was a gullible girl, back then… and he was so handsome…”.

“I am not interested in hearing it” he commented with a rather sour tone, and you couldn’t help but smirk lightly, as you moved to settle closer to him, till you were eye-to-eye.

He tried to push himself away, but you held him in place.

“… it wasn’t love, it was a simple crush” you explained “… he broke my heart and I realized how hollow my feelings for him truly were. And from then on, it was only friendship from me”.

Ivar’s gaze seemed to lightly calm itself, although he didn’t look convinced.

“You have nothing to fear, truly”.

“Yeah, the cripple has for sure nothing to fear” he commented grumpily and you brought him instead to look at you in the face, not wanting this to push something between you, when you were so close with him.

Your life was a mess and strangely that blue-eyed heathen was the only relief you had been getting, lately.

The only good thing.

And this close, you wanted to kiss him.

Again, and again.

“… if it makes your ego feel better, I found you more handsome than Alexander” you confessed, as you gently moved an hand on his partially unbuttoned tunic, gently nearing the naked skin, as you felt Ivar take a sharp intake of breath.

“Don’t make fun of me” he commented loudly, making to turn around, but you stopped him and you made him look at you in the eyes.

“… I don’t” you muttered “… from the moment I saw you, I just found myself fascinated with you”.

He blushed, although he didn’t look convinced.

“I now love Alexander, with the same intensity I love Hvitserk, so you shouldn’t worry” you adjusted yourself to slip under the cover, moving closer to Ivar to make him avoid pushing you away “… there isn’t anything you should be worried about”.

“… because you are so enamored with me” he uttered sarcastically, and although you knew that it was damnably wrong both for your beliefs and both for the fact that you would have to betray him, you were starting to slowly feel something for him.

“I am starting to be…” you admitted, and you knew that any disbelief Ivar had pushed itself away, at your tender expression, something that you wouldn’t have been able to fake.

Gently a hand of his threaded its way through your hair, as he brought you closer, pressing softly your lips against his, something that made smile brightly, as you embraced him loosely.

If this life of yours would end up in a painful way, you’d enjoy all the pleasure you found.

That tender kiss was followed by a few more, till you were comfortably snuggled in Ivar’s arms, as you giggled at his bold gestures, eventually settling on a kiss to your forehead, insisting you both fell asleep, before it was too late.

But your body ached for more, definitely awake.

“… but seriously Ivar, I don’t… I don’t feel bad for you, and this isn’t pity” you muttered, tantalizing brushing your lips together, as he tightened his grip on your hair “… you are… different that is right, but you aren’t… you are more than anybody else because of that, I am sure, I swear it on the crown”.

He looked at you intensely and again you couldn’t understand what was going through his head, but you knew you had to say it.

The knowledge of your imminent death suddenly making you bold.

“… you are starting to blabber silly things, wife, you must be truly tired” he commented, but his eyes shone of true thankfulness, as he kissed your nose, tickling you softly, as he brought you closer, almost as if you were his own pillow “… go to sleep, lovely”.

“I like it when you call me that” you softly muttered, but closed your eyes and sleep took you over.

---

You slept comfortably, although it wasn’t anything more than an endless slumber, black but relaxing.

Your limbs felt as heavy as iron, and as you moved on your side to find a more comfortable pose, grimacing at the pain that shot from a small hit you had received the previous day, meanwhile you were training with Lia.

The handmaiden had tried to apologize, but you had simply complimented her on her strong right hook, making her laugh awkwardly, as she checked your face for any improper reply.

You felt Ivar matching your movements, bringing you back to his chest, as he softly moved you closer, making you smirk.

A week before he had been so cold with you, enough to make you feel at great unease, but now…

… he was cuddling you closer, as if you were of extreme value.

“… would you mind staying still?” he commented, making you well aware that he had woken up at the same time you had turned around, his grouchy voice making you rub unconsciously your legs together.

“It is late” you commented, seeing the sun pouring up through the thick veils of your tent, but what made you aware that you had both overslept was the fact that you could hear the life of the settlement moving up all around you.

Something that you strangely found familiar.

“… don’t you have some mischievous plan to plot?” you teased Ivar, feeling him growl annoyedly at your comment, as he turned on his back.

“You are devious” he lightly pinched your side, making you elbow him right back, although you laughed loudly “… and I do have things to do, but I don’t… I don’t want to get up”.

The confession made your body tremble lightly, because it felt truly heartfelt.

You knew that Ivar had some kind of infatuation with you or with at least the artificial version of you he had in his mind.

And you had survived for that, among the Vikings.

But his latest comment felt damnably true, as if both your feelings for each other were becoming… real.

And it almost scared you.

“… me neither” you mumbled, as his head shot to you, surprised by your own admission, finally bringing you closer as you felt the cleavage of your nightgown slide down and the part on your legs riding up “… but if I don’t bring my handmaidens to Hilde, this morning, they’ll organize a conspiracy against me”.

“I doubt it” protested Ivar loudly, pushing himself softly onto you, to physically prevent you from raising yourself “… they are all enamored with you”.

“Uh uh” you nodded lightly, as your eyes twinkled lightly “… I can actually think of a few people that don’t want me here”.

His eyes became sharp, as you commented that, a threat in them.

Not against you.

But against anybody who had dared hurting you.

Part of you almost wanted to confess him the pain your father had made you undergo, alongside the one that would happen when all of this was over.

Because you knew that he’d shelter you form that.

“… you are very much wanted here” he breathed on your lips, as he lightly pushed your hair away from your face, with a delicateness that made you blush, as you leaned in his hand “... please stay this morning in bed”.

“I can’t” you bit your lips, feeling like it was a true ache to your chest.

But you knew that you couldn’t indulge any longer.

You had to finish the letter to send to Alexander before lunch time, since you had asked him to join you for lunch and you had to go to Hilde, since she had already sent you a small note to let you know that she had a dress for you.

The fact that you hadn’t asked one made you a bit confused by the request of the tailor, but you loved deeply the creations she had gotten for you, hence you couldn’t deny her.

“… what if I made you stay” and then he was on top of you, a pleasurable oppression, that made you laugh, as his hands went to tickle your side, a playful side of him coming out as you tried to kick him away, completely exiting the fight disheveled, but victorious, once you put one of your cold feet on his chest.

“I won’t tell anybody that I won” you promised him with a teasing smirk on your face, as you finally managed to slip away from his hold, although you had to admit that it was definitely less warm than Ivar’s arms, who simply pouted at you.

“… I let you win” he stated, with a stubborn look, as you simply showed him your tongue, making him crack a laugh “… ok ok, I’ll let you go, but give me a kiss first”.

“Say ‘please’ ” it was almost natural, the banter between you, and Ivar shot you a quick look, before he added:

“… give me a kiss, please” and you did.

You leaned in, being the first one that initiated the kiss between you, and it was tender, as Ivar this time was mindful of his tongue, preferring to suck on your upper lip and then bottom one, before you tried something, something that you had solely read about: you bit his lower lip, dragging it through your teeth, as you moved away from the kiss.

Ivar growled and soon he was yanking on your hands, not delicately in the slightest, but you found yourself not caring at all, when he returned the favor, biting you back, although his hold didn’t bruise, but it certainly made you moan softly.

And then he was away from you, your own punishment for having chastised him away quickly this morning, having denied him.

“… don’t you have somewhere to be?” he teased you, as you shot him annoyed look, but eventually moved out of the bed.

“You are impossible” you retorted, but before you turned completely, you saw the way his eyes flickered with interest for you.

“Don’t spend your entire dowry my wife” he commented, staying in bed like a playful cat, as he stared up at you.

“Fear not, husband” you replied tightly, as you moved to the chair in front of your private desk, brushing away your hair, and you adjusted back the few jewels you had started wearing, gently opening the tent to tell the awaiting handmaidens, Arabella and Angelika, that morning, to wait a few more minutes, giving Ivar the chance to hide in his private alcove, and set himself up.

You got ready quickly almost on your own, since you hadn’t chosen a particularly complex dress, knowing that you’d have to try another one on, so you settled for a simple cream-colored gown, with golden accents, but nothing that was too tight.

Although the fabric was rich, since you had to meet up with Alexander, having finished the letter, meanwhile Angelika adjusted your hair (she was strangely good at it) and Arabella made you choose which essence to wear on your skin, it wasn’t one of your most luxurious dress.

You had pushed it into Arabella’s hands, assuring her to give it to one of the guards for Alexander, hoping that they wouldn’t read what was inside, although you hadn’t written anything scandalous.

Once you were ready to go, Ivar exited his own private quarters, revealing that he had bathed himself, and was again pushing himself in the braces, adjusting them on his own.

“… I am leaving and I’ll be back again for dinner time” you saluted him, coming closer to him, till you were face to face, and he pushed a light kiss on your hands “… have a blessed day, Ivar”.

“You as well, lovely one”.

You blushed, before you moved with the two girls on your tail, Angelika again shooting you a knowing look, meanwhile Arabella moved to send the letter out.

You moved to Hilde’s shop, the small woman welcoming you eagerly, as the handmaidens slowly appeared, all knowing the hour to meet you at the stop, as quite the crowd gathered around.

“My queen, you look more beautiful each day passing” Hilde bowed to you, as you ushered her to stand, denying her words gently, but accepting her compliments “… and you certainly do not lack of a loyal entourage”.

“… and they are all excited to try on your dresses” you commented excitedly, as the woman quickly moved to look at the other girls, as if she was searching what might fit them more.

“Oh yes, I know” she commented, as she moved to look up at you “… I saw in my dreams a flock of swans coming to my lake, and I knew that you wouldn’t have been alone today, sweetheart”.

You blushed at the affectionate comment, before Hilde moved away from to you, to examine each girl, as they reacted strangely meanwhile the smaller Nordic woman went past them, pulling on their hair or grabbing their hands to see the inside of it, muttering things such as ‘royal blue would suit’ or ‘green eyes for a golden gown’.

You smiled, feeling a bit at ease seeing your handmaidens starting to chat among each other, almost as if nothing had changed from their courtly life.

Almost as if they had settled in, like you.

You were quickly distracted, finding yourself to think that although you had been damnably scared by the Viking life, you were slowly growing into it, with their loose dress and most importantly… pants.

Although you were still uneasy about the entire ‘godly parts’, mostly their rituals.

Talking with Ivar during dinner last night, you had discovered that they’d be offering a sacrifice to the gods, that to your honor would have been an animal and not a human.

The sole thought of a human being sacrificed made your stomach turn around, and you were grateful you hadn’t done breakfast, hoping to eat something at the small market in the settlement.

Thankfully your head was pushed away from this by Hilde’s hands, grabbing onto yours with a tight grip, as she dragged inside her small tent, getting a piece of fabric down from a metal hanger in the semi-darkness of the tent, allowing a bit of privacy as she closed the tent behind herself.

A clear invite to try on the dress, which you found quite difficult to fit on your body, unused to this shape, and when you got out, all your handmaidens came around you, Angelika and Arabella barely holding back a laugh, meanwhile Caryn moved to adjust it alongside Lia.

Solveig, instead, lightly combed your messed-up hair with her wrinkly fingers, laughing at you, and when you were halfway settled, you turned to look at yourself in the small mirror outside of her tent, and… blushed.

The dress was of a deep purplish red, the color of royalty, set up on your middle with a golden belt, that tightened the dress, although it was left lightly puffy on the chest, in asymmetric cut that resembled the many dresses you had seen in the pictures of books about ancient Greece.

The lower part wasn’t tight but held a slit  to allow you a more comfortable walk, but also exposing so much skin that you weren’t exactly sure would have been thought to be appropriate.

And it made your nervous.

It was beautiful.

But you had never worn anything like this.

And you weren’t sure it fitted you, rightfully.

Although it highlighted perfectly your body, you weren’t sure you had been able to bring justice to it.

“… Hilde it is beautiful” you commented softly, as you turned to her, who smiled at you”…but I am not sure… I mean… I am not sure it is made for me”.

Hilde had seemed shocked and almost offended, and you had immediately tried to explain to her why you didn’t feel like this dress belonged to you, although it was one of the most beautiful you had ever worn.

“… my queen” called out to you Hilde, with her usual emphasis on your title-that-wasn’t-yet-your-title “… I see insecurity in your own body, your eyes tell me that you aren’t used, but you have nothing to hide. You shine with beauty inside and out”.

You couldn’t help but be taken back by that comment, although you weren’t fully convinced, looking at yourself again in the mirror and noticing every little flaw of your body, as you had always done.

“… the crazy tailor is right” commented Angelika in English, making you blush lightly, as you were surprised by her words “… I hate to admit it, but you are prettier than me in that dress”.

“Girls! Check her temperature!” you joked to try to shimmer away the blush you felt on your cheeks “… she must be sick for what she is saying”.

“… but you look very very pretty, princess (Y/N)!” commented one of the youngest handmaidens, making you smile, as you bowed lightly.

“Believe me that dress fit you perfectly, girlie” added Solveig, adjusting the dress so that it could flow around you more perfectly “… many years to adjust dresses and I know when one just is… the one”.

“Ok ok” you ended up saying, unable to think of another way to refuse the gentle women “… I’ll take it”.

A chorus of laughter and mumbles of assent welcomed you, as Hilde then moved to offer various suggestions to the girls, as they entered her tent, leaving it as gorgeous princesses and beautiful ladies, as they commented all on the easiness of the dresses, comfortable as they twirled barefooted.

You hadn’t ever thought of being able to laugh like this, without your sister.

And suddenly something felt heavy on your chest.

Abigail and Kathleen.

What were they doing right now?

Did Kathleen know already you were safe and sound?

You’d have to suggest to Alexander to send her a letter to let her know you weren’t at risk of death anymore.

The morning soon passed in a whirlwind of fabric and you insisting to pay Hilde at least for the dresses of your beloved handmaidens, to which the woman agreed, as she clasped tight onto your hand, making you lower yourself closer to her.

‘… hard times are coming for you, my little bird’ she spoke with a tender tone, as her eyes were truthful ‘… that’s why I want you to feel like a queen, because that’s what you are, and you should never ever forget it’.

And although you had never believed this kind of thing, the words left a bitter taste in your mouth, as you moved to the place where you were supposed to meet Alexander, accompanied by Eleanor and Caryn, as always keeping her promise of serving you, and although you wanted nothing more than to go back to the intimacy you had.

But it seemed impossible.

“Princess, do you think that it is proper to meet another man without prince Ivar’s approval?” asked softly Eleanor, the more demure of your handmaidens, with soft hips and an amber gaze, and although you cherished her sweetness, you shot her a slight look, before you commented.

“… if you won’t say anything, I won’t either”.

And Caryn’s eyes spoke of a complicity that you recognized.

And hope wouldn’t be mistaken.

You knew that asking Ivar Ivar’s permission would have been as useful as trying to make a hole in the water, and that if you hadn’t done this, Alexander would have thought that you were still under the influence of Ivar, and he would have prolonged his staying here.

And as much as it didn’t weigh on you, it certainly did weigh on your reputation among the Vikings.

And Alexander’s staying was damnably painful.

It reminded you of past times, of different times that wouldn’t have ever come again.

Thankfully Alexander was a gentleman and didn’t make you wait, as your handmaidens moved to adjust everything to leave you a bit of privacy, and your best friend courtly bowed to you, kissing your hand, as he took in your curious appearance.

“… might I say that I haven’t still wrapped my mind around the Viking fashion?” he commented making you laugh light and blush painfully as you felt inadequate in your dress “… yesterday you wore pants”.

“They are comfortable” you tried protesting “… but we aren’t here to talk about me”.

“We are, I mean… I was sent to see if you were in brilliant shape which I might confirm” he commented dashingly “… you look beautiful, my princess”.

A slight blush spread on your cheeks, but nothing in you fluttered the way it did when  Ivar gave you a compliment, to prove further the fact that you didn’t feel anything anymore for Alexander.

“… I am happy of this” you replied “… they treat me well, they haven’t hurt me”.

“You have been involved in a conspiration because of your husband!” he tried to shout, as you shot him an apologetic look.

“:.. wouldn’t it have happened also if I had remained in court?” you shot back, knowingly, as Alexander lightly hung his head between his shoulders as if he had been defeated.

“That’s why I told my father that I won’t take on his role till he dies…” he mumbled, as his eyes shot away from you and onto the land that bordered the Viking settlements “… I don’t want to be corrupted by any of that…”.

“… shit?” you tempted him, as this time it was his cheeks that blushed lightly.

“They corrupted you”.

“Actually… Kathleen taught me that” you replied, as he shot you an even more surprised look.

“Oh Gosh, have I missed you princess (Y/N)”.

---

The lunch had been quite satisfying and you had been glad to spend some time with Alexander, although the notion that he’d go back to England, and that you’d stay here was almost painful.

Training and the harmless chatter among your handmaidens felt comfortable to forget, but when you were left alone to wait for Ivar, who planned your return to Kattegat with his brothers, bad thoughts crowded your mind.

Not even your beloved books could satisfy you, and you were left to do nothing more than think about what would have happened if anything had happened to you once all of this was over and how guilty you felt at betraying Ivar, although you were doing it for the greater good.

Or at least this is what you said.

You were readjusting yourself on the bed for the fifth time, after you had sent both Turid and Solveig away, although the latter had made a small herb brewing to ease your soul.

Turid, instead, had been a quite peaceful presence, although you had started learning her way of communicate her needs, mostly noticing the way her eyes would follow lingering closer prince Hvitserk, when he came to eat with you in your tent.

And you had the good thought to tell him to keep his hands to himself, if he wanted to keep them.

Ivar caught you in a rather awkward position trying to read, as he walked in, unable to withhold a small smirk, as you readjusted with your cheeks full of red blush, trying to shimmer away the attention, telling him that Hvitserk had dropped some dinner also for him…

… hadn’t he decided to steal it, at the last minute.

‘… what a thoughtful thing’ he commented, joining you on bed, as you scrunched your nose to tell him not to drop anything on the clean sheets, since as much as you wouldn’t be the one changing them, you didn’t like to use Solveig or Turid more than necessary.

They had also had a dress, although both had insisted against it, saying they were low thralls born in slavery who had both grown up with nothing as precious as the dresses, but you couldn’t deny that they were part of the familiar group you had been slowly creating.

Turid with her comforting presence and Solveig with wisdom.

“… I’ll be careful” he commented softly, a light shiver going down your spine at that scruffy mumble “… but is everything alright with you?”.

“Just too many thoughts in my little head” you mumbled, softly, meanwhile Ivar basically ate the whole piece of meat in one bite, turning to you at that affirmation, as you moved to come to his side.

“… your head isn’t little, I think it is quite the contrary” he replied, gently kissing it, once he cleared his mouth ruthlessly on his dirty tunic, and you giggled scooting away, although the gesture had been quite welcome “… but that can be a curse, because it does indeed open us to too many thoughts and it is tiring”.

“You can say that”.

“Can I help you with your thoughts?” spoke tightly Ivar, as his eyes looked at you as if he wanted to know them but knew not to step further on your boundaries.

“I don’t think that there is much that will help me” you muttered sadly, leaning lightly your hand on his shoulder “… do you know something that might make me think about everything else than what is stuck in my mind”.

“… I might have a few ideas” and a few moments after you were set in front of a chess board, one of the many gifts that your father had brought to Ivar for your hand in marriage.

The figures were refinished but also long-lasting, as you examined through your fingers, meanwhile Ivar started to explain you the game and you felt the utter satisfaction of tell him that ‘you did know how to play’.

‘Who taught you?’ he had asked, meanwhile he adjusted the pieces on the board, him being the black ones and you the white ones,

‘Nobody, except myself. My father would have me and my sisters in the same room with him, meanwhile he played it, and I slowly took in his playing and strategies’.

What you were less happy was the fact that Ivar played much more brilliantly than your father, and soon you had two lost games on your shoulders.

‘This doesn’t make me feel better in the slightest’ you mumbled annoyedly, meanwhile Ivar set up the board again, laughing at your comment ‘… you should let me win’

“… that wouldn’t make it very fair”.

“But it would make me feel better”.

He laughed, before leaning in and pecking softly your lips, for the first time without you asking or igniting the kiss, something that made you cherish its sweetness and the comfortable way he was starting to make you feel around him.

“… just focus a bit more”.

And you did, trying to focus on the strategy that Ivar used, since although he was brilliant, his schemes were recurring and you had to break them, playing dirty as you smirked at Ivar, lowering lightly one sleeve of your nightgown, adjusting it meanwhile Ivar lost his bishop.

And then his king.

He looked displeased of having lost, but it didn’t take him long to calm himself, as he saw the sweet smile that appeared on your lips, and you had to admit that your mind was a bit less clouded, as you asked him again to play another game.

‘… I am feeling giddy over having won the great Ivar The Boneless, now you can’t seriously expect me to go to sleep’.

And you had played till very deep in the night, enough that you had both fall asleep on the board, risking a few pieces falling down the bed as you woke up with your back aching but strangely relaxed, Ivar’s hands having drifted gently onto yours, almost touching.

“… if anybody asks…” he muttered, before you both dove under the covers “… we slept like this because we were both tired and not because we spent the entire night playing chess”.

“Understood, my prince” you commented, finishing the deal with a soft kiss on his cheek, as he blushed, laughing lightly “… we could have breakfast in bed, I’ll just have to tell Turid, if you want to readjust the covers in the meanwhile…”.

“That seems lovely” he commented, before his gaze caught onto you “… you are lovely”.

“I doubt it” you moved away, to hide your blushing cheeks, meanwhile Ivar instead brought you closer to him, pushing you onto his laps, as you immediately hid your face between your fingers.

“… you look beautiful” he tried to push your hands away, meanwhile he brought you closer “… (Y/N) the Lovely, that’s what they should call you”.

“That sounds tantalizing delightful” you commented, trying to get away from him, as suddenly your mind became awake with horrible thoughts, thoughts about the fact that Ivar didn’t know that your beauty was nothing but a front.

Whatever he found beautiful in you, would have been his damnation.

“You are tantalizing delightful” he said it in English, making you tremble at his thick accent, before he let you up, a slight blush on his own face, as you felt his lower body against you, a sensation that made you giddy, but you quickly set up to your own mission, meanwhile Ivar did his.

You covered yourself with a thick woolen mantle, not trying to think about the sinful way you had almost wanted Ivar a few minutes ago, but you honestly should stop, if not for yourself, for some correctness for him, who seemed thoroughly enamored with you.

And he was starting to like you for you.

And it was a beautiful sensation for somebody who had never had something like that, but you felt like you were leeching on that love.

And it pained you.

Turid was already awake and was more than happy to steal a few sweets from you, meanwhile Solveig gave a few orders around, mostly because Hilde had sent the dresses and they had to be adjusted and brought to its rightful owner.

You were glad to help her a bit, not fully knowing why you didn’t feel comfortable approaching Ivar yet, not after your small dialogue.

“… slept well, my lady?” piped in Angelika, strangely already awake, as she set beside you and Solveig.

“Heavenly” you muttered, hissing through your teeth.

“… you should learn when to speak and when to keep your mouth closed” muttered in Norse Solveig, getting surprised when Angelika shot her an annoyed look, obviously annoyed and completely understanding what the Viking thrall said.

“And you that I can completely understand you” retorted Angelika with the fakest smile, as Solveig shot her one poisonous of her own, something that made you move between them, before things could escalate.

“… calm down” you commented to both “… it is just morning”.

“It is never too early for anything” Angelika replied, before moving away, as Lia came to get her in an attempt to avoid any fights, for which you were thankful “… and I am joining you this afternoon, for the training”.

She said it almost as if she was the leader, the princess of the castle, and you were able to simply nod.

You were almost thankful when Turid came back with the breakfast, warning Solveig to avoid Angelika, as the old woman simply shot you another look as if to say that ‘she had handled worse’.

You moved back in the tent, surprised not to see Ivar, but you quickly heard water splashing, as your private bathroom was lightly closed by the rough piece of fabric that divided it from the rest of the tent, thick enough to hide from the gaze.

But not from the ears of others.

In fact, you heard a few grumbles, that became suddenly more animalistic gruntles, something that made you question whether Ivar was hurt, as you lightly called out his name, the noises from the bathroom completely disappearing.

Ivar replied tightly, his voice slightly high and feminine, as he invited you to start eating without me.

‘Just leave me something, little beastie’.

‘Don’t even try’ you replied, forgetting quickly about the strange behavior of Ivar, simply thinking that he was bathing, and the grumbles and grunts were due to his strain in moving around the bathtub.

On his most tired days, he’d need also help.

It was confirmed as Ivar came back, his hair lightly wet, as he slithered around the bed, since he hadn’t worn his braces, to come up to you, raising himself onto the bed, solely through the help of his arm, a show that made you hot and bothered, as you blushed at that wondrous sight.

“… did I ruin your appetite?” mumbled grumpily Ivar, as he saw that you had stopped eating to observe him, something that made you almost choke on what you were eating “… well that is the most dramatic reaction I ever got”.

But he gently offered you ale, that you refused, and once you were able to breath without tasting the sweet in your nose, you moved to softly lean in, closer to him, reassuring him physically that he didn’t disgust you, since you were slowly starting to understand that with him anything physical was more effective than words.

“I was actually admiring you” you commented coyly, seeing a slight blush appear on his cheeks.

“… admiring me?”.

“Yes” you nodded softly, as you took one of the sweets, and moved to feed it to Ivar, who seemed an hungry and curious beast, looking at you with smart eyes, as you moved to gently slip the sweet past his plump lips “… you must have noticed that I might have a slight fascination with your muscles”.

“You do?” there was genuine surprise in his eyes, as you lightly retreated the sugary treats from his lips, before they could wrap around it.

“… I do” you were now suddenly the one all blushy.

And Ivar looked all smug about it, as he moved to softly bit onto the treat in your hand, but you quickly moved it away from him, before pushing it onto your mouth.

He shot you an offended look and then he turned to you and before you knew it, he pushed you down the bed, playfully, properly pinning you down, as you laughed softly, but were quickly shut up by Ivar kissing you.

And he chased the taste of the sweet in your mouth, as you laughed softly, at the affection.

“… you are an hungry minx” he commented, as he grabbed a sweet, meanwhile you were too taken aback by the kiss to properly react like a human creature “… but I am glad you like my muscles”.

“Don’t push it” you muttered, knowing that you had dug your own tomb.

“Oh, I will” he replied, kissing your forehead “… I’ll walk shirtless simply for the pleasure of teasing you princess”.

“That’d definitely help me with my bad thoughts”.

You both erupted in laughter, as you exchanged sweets and kisses.

And then Ivar left you, surprising you one last time, as he told you that he had taken it upon himself to invite Alexander over for dinner, which surprised you, but Ivar simply told you that it was better ‘to keep your enemies closer’.

And although you were glad that you hadn’t to undergo anything unknown to Ivar to see your friend, you had a bad feeling about it.

But you didn’t say much more to Ivar, as you said your ‘goodbyes’ to him with a soft kiss, that Ivar deepened dirtily, making you moan softly, something that brought a beautiful color on your cheeks.

That Hvitserk noticed immediately as he come to lounge in your tent, in a vague attempt of stealing the leftovers of your breakfast with Ivar.

‘… you got the hots for my brother, don’t you?’ he commented, before he seemed to rethink over the words he had said ‘… I never thought I’d say that’.

“Then don’t say it” you mumbled, trying to appear busy as you wrote letters to your sisters, hoping that Alexander could bring them to their recipients “… don’t stick your nose in my business or…”.

“… or you’ll curse me, I know… I know” he muttered under his breath “… it is just that… I haven’t seen Ivar this happy in… so much… since…”.

“… since what?” you asked, your spying personality finally coming up as your ears peaked up, although your father’s own purposes were quite away from your own, in that moment, and you wanted to know it all just to make you understand more Ivar.

As a lover would do.

“… since our mother’s death” Hvitserk’s growl let out much more emotion than his eyes did, a tight smirk replacing his usual open smile “… he hasn’t thought about much else than his revenge, actually”.

“Revenge?” you felt almost dumbfounded discovering all of this “… on who?”.

You couldn’t help but feel a shrill of worry and fear, as if you were suddenly travelling in unknown territory and you weren’t sure to have the means to exit it.

“… on Lagertha, our mother’s murderer” he explained, almost as if it was a bitter bite, too much for him, sadly “… Ivar took it at heart especially, he and our mother, Aslaug had a close bond”.

“I am sorry for your loss, still” you commented softly, as you moved a hand to grip on Hvitserk’s one, who simply smirked sadly at you, exiting quickly your hold on his hand.

“It didn’t… it didn’t affect me as much as it affected Ivar” he simply justified it “… to me his crazy plan to get revenge is… crazy, indeed”.

You couldn’t help but see uneasiness and eagerness in Hvitserk’s eyes, almost as if he hadn’t ever been asked his opinion about this, and at the same time he ached for it, in a way that made everything unsolved.

“Christians frown upon revenge” you said, softly “… but I lost a mother and although revenge wouldn’t bring her back, I sometimes… I do understand why Ivar feels like that”

You knew that this was a deep confession for you, since you had never dared to admit your feelings against your father to anybody.

You knew that although he hadn’t killed your mother, his constant beatings had made her frail health even more at danger, and then one day they had been too much.

And your mother laid lifeless, white as a lily on her bed.

And you had cried your heart out.

Also fear had always shone in your eyes, and it had been confessed to your sisters, but you had never commented the anger against your father that brew inside of you, and suddenly was let out, as Hvitserk sent you a small surprised look, before you shook the bad feeling away from your face, feigning again innocence.

“… it is just that sometimes Ivar can be extreme”.

“On that I agree”.

“… is he also extreme in bed?” Hvitserk lightly wiggled his eyebrows, as you elbowed him, something that stole the breath away from the young boy.

“Why are you all so noisy?”.

“Because you are the wife of a prince” he smirked, before assuming a royal tone “… your own life doesn’t belong to you anymore, but to the people”.

“… that seems utter bullshit” your profanity made Hvitserk shoot a surprised look at your profanity “… I learned from the best”.

“I can’t believe that you think I am the best at something” Hvitserk crooked a soft a smile at you “… but this won’t avoid a talk about all the things that could embarrass my brother”.

“… you should stop doing that” the mutter left your mouth, and your brother-in-law looked at you confusedly “… trying to embarrass Ivar”.

“It is just brotherly teasing” he almost seemed annoyed by your noisy invasion.

“… not it isn’t” you commented tightly, because although you didn’t want to annoy Hvitserk “… I have sisters, and although you think that we, women, are tamer than you, believe me we are as ruthless as males if not more… and we don’t… sometimes with Ivar you seem a bit too mean”.

“… you don’t know him” Hvitserk’s anger shine his own words, and you knew that you should have kept your mouth shut.

“… I just know that it should be teasing and not anger” you commented and Hvitserk’s eyes lowered, almost admitting that you were right “… but what can I know, I am simply a stupid woman”.

That’s what your father would have told you.

But Hvitserk simply grabbed your hand this time.

“… you are a blessing, princess”.

---

The rest of the day had slowly moved itself in a monotonous pace, something that had made the dinner the most interesting part of the day, but as soon as Alexander moved in, completely closed off, you found yourself revaluing your excitedness.

‘Come, lord Alexander, or at least that is the title that my wife told me you own…’ commented Ivar, with a snobby smirk that made you also uneasy, and you shot him a light look to tell him to be ‘nice’ ‘… sit beside us, it’ll be our honor’.

Alexander hadn’t reacted in a better way, nodding as he bowed to you, but not to any of the brothers, something that didn’t go unnoticed by Ivar and Ubbe, both grimacing, meanwhile Bjorn looked too drunk for it as he talked with Halfdan and Hvitserk was already staring at a few of his ‘victims’ of the night.

You welcomed Alexander with an attentive mind, as he complimented your choice of dress, a deep maroon one, bordering with red, and lined with argent details, something that gave you a mature look, definitely more Saxon.

“… are you having a nice staying?” you asked softly, as you turned to Alexander, knowing that not many would approach him and that Ivar had already started a conversation with Ubbe, in Norse, probably talking shit about Alexander, if you were understanding right.

“I am, and the men are used to worse” joked Alexander “… the settlements seem… truly a work of art or… of the Devil”.

“That’s because you haven’t seen the marketplace” you commented gingerly, gaining an amazed look from Alexander “… I told you: they might be Vikings but they aren’t heathens”.

“And silly me who thought they were the same thing”.

The dinner continued among your chatters and your soft laughs, as Ivar sometimes would gently grip your hair or rub  your thigh over your dress, almost a confirmation that you were still there.

That you were with him, beside him.

And you would answer, turning for a sweet smile solely for him.

And Alexander would roll his eyes.

But what got truly a reaction from him was when you revealed to him why you would be hosting celebrations, for the lands that you had given up on Ivar, as his eyes showed true offense.

“… why did you?!”.

“It’s no big deal, Alexander” you replied, trying to calm him down, meanwhile you saw heads turning to you and since your popularity rate was negative, you tried to avoid a scene “… he told he’ll give me back those lands”.

“… your lands, exactly!” he shouted, and Ivar behind you stiffened, his hand tightening around the knife on his side, and you comforted him with a quick look, as you invited Alexander out, your tight and strong tone surprising him enough that when realization kicked in, you were already out.

“You don’t understand Alexander” you commented once you were out of earshot “… I did this to keep you protected”.

“I should be the one doing it” also his tone was a bright hiss “… and I have been failing miserably at it”.

“I don’t need protecting” you replied tightly, surprised at those words, because had Alexander uttered the same words a few years ago you would have fallen in his arms.

But you had undergone so much that you felt numb.

And that you knew you could handle yourself.

Although it was ungrateful.

But Alexander’s behavior was out of line, completely.

“… it doesn’t seem so” his tone surprised you, because although you knew that Alexander could be arrogant, his tone now was down right derisive “… you have been involved in a conspiration and you have had to give up on lands that belonged to you by birthright”.

“But I am still alive!” you shouted, in exasperation, as he backed away from you “… it might seem idiotic, but let me tell you… I have survived so much that I know how to take care of myself”.

You hadn’t ever been that knowing of your willingness to live as in that moment.

And you had never felt that strong as in that moment.

And you looked like it straightening up your back.

You weren’t a pawn in this game anymore.

Since the conspiracy had set a target on your head, you had taken a more active role.

And you wouldn’t relent it.

“My father will probably has explained you why I am here truly…” you whispered lightly, trying not to be heard, although only night was around you “… he bargained my life with the devil. And let me tell you that I thought I’d have been destroyed, but I am here, I am still here”.

This was your own kingdom and you wouldn’t relent the crown easily, although you knew your role and you’d follow your father’s orders, but you wouldn’t tolerate the prejudices and prohibitions everyone around you gave you.

And then suddenly, before you could register his movements, Alexander was onto you.

He was kissing you.

And you were too surprised to react properly.

But something settled in you.

Dreariness of having been forced in the act, that made you immediately push away your old best friend, as you would have done with an attacker, focusing on the strength of your arms hitting him on the chest with your elbows, since he was stronger than you.

And then you felt free.

For the rest operated his surprise.

And soon he was off you.

And you couldn’t deny your surprise

As a feeling of hollowness settled on your stomach.

It was matched by the disgust on your lips at such a gesture, something that seemed more an arrogant claiming of you than a true kiss.

And you didn’t belong to anybody.

“… what?” you asked him, as you brought a hand to your lips, wondering whether it had happened or not, but the look of pure hurt on Alexander confirmed that he had indeed kissed you “… we can’t”.

“We could run away” now his eyes moved into an almost manic state, something that made you nervous “… we could run away and hide in my own lands”.

“We can’t” this time you weren’t hesitant and neither merciful “… we would be caught and believe me I just can’t leave now…”.

“… you don’t have to be your father’s spy” Alexander promised you “… this isn’t something that you have to do anymore, don’t you understand it? We can live in freedom”.

“As long as my father lives, there won’t be any freedom for me” your eyebrows furrowed annoyedly at the fact that Alexander just couldn’t understand.

You didn’t belong to anybody, but your body followed your father’s orders still.

But there was more behind it.

You didn’t want Alexander.

You weren’t in love with him.

And it wasn’t something you could fake.

“You have changed” his tone seemed almost a bittersweet reprimand “… before I left for Ireland, you wouldn’t have thought about running away with me”.

And as much as your words hurt you, you felt like they were the most appropriate.

“Before you left Ireland, I was in love with you”.

Before Ireland had been an era away.

If you had thought that entire years had passed since you had last been in England, among Saxons, and it was enough to change you completely.

But the truth is that you hadn’t changed much.

You had just scraped away the convictions and insecurities that had kept you tame.

Those words shocked Alexander, and this time he was the one who pushed himself away from you, shooting you a tight look, almost wounded, but you couldn’t live in a lie, even more when your heart was steering towards Ivar, although it shouldn’t.

You had to admit that you felt guilty for the kiss you had briefly shared with Alexander although it was unwanted.

“… and you aren’t anymore” he almost seemed heartbroken, as he got back from that angry stupor.

“I don’t think that it was love from the start” your voice were almost cutting in your own mouth “… and I know that you didn’t love me back then, we were simply good friends, and I had a crush on you, but you chased somebody else’s skirt”.

“You are bitter because I didn’t notice you back then?” his tone seemed almost spiteful, almost as insult for you.

“No, no” you spat back “… you did break my heart, but this doesn’t mean that I am trying to make you pay for it. I just… this isn’t… this isn’t anything personal, but my heart isn’t yours”.

“Is it that heathen’s?” this time his words were straight up insult, as he spat on the ground between your feet, making you tremble on your place “… I hope you won’t cry when he stabs you in the back”.

“Wife?” Ivar appeared behind the flap of the tent, right on time, as you shook your head to push back tears, walking across Alexander as you shot him a quick look “… is everything alright?”.

“I am just tired, me and Alexander have talked about important matters…” and you turned lightly at Alexander as if to tell him to keep his mouth shut “… thoughts that made me nostalgic”.

“Then I’ll lead you back to our tent” Ivar clashed his teeth together, as he sent a sour look at Alexander, as if he wanted to punish him for having made you sad, and Alexander withheld his gaze, and for a moment you thought there would be a blown out fight “… let’s go”.

You were glad to follow Ivar, feeling a horrible sensation in your chest due to Alexander’s words.

They made you feel like a traitor.

But you knew you were right.

You couldn’t reciprocate his feelings and it wouldn’t have been right for him to fake them.

Even more when he wanted a life that you couldn’t give to him.

“You look truly troubled” mumbled tightly Ivar, as he saw you dropping without too many ceremonies on your shared bed, his eyes following you attentively and you tried to shift away all those bad emotions, for a tight smile.

“I just miss my sisters and Alexander reminded me of them” you faked, although your tone sounded honest, since it had been something that you had been thinking lately, the date of your departure coming closer and closer.

Alongside whether your father would have acted before Ivar’s departure or he would have let you go away, in a new land, that was unknown to you.

“… you could visit them one day” Ivar’s words were careful, but meaningful and they surprised you, as you raised lightly to look at him in the eyes, to see if he had spoken the truth “… I know that you’ll miss them when we’ll be in Kattegat. We could visit the castle,or they could come here”.

“That’d ease my mind greatly” you replied softly “… thank you”.

Ivar’s lips gently blessed your forehead, before he went to change.

“… of course, they are your family, after all”.

And that was the last thing that you had heard before a quite slumber took you.

---

The following day had been intense, something that you had been grateful since this meant that you didn’t have to overthink Alexander’s words and that feeling of guilt you had in your chest.

You almost understood why Hilde had blessed you with that dress.

You were feeling truly shitty.

So, you were thankful when during the middle of the afternoon your handmaidens and you started getting ready for the feast, the girls all twirling in their dresses, once they had ruthlessly pushed both Ivar and Hvitserk away.

A few took care of your hair, making sure that the crown Ivar had gifted you shone in them, meanwhile others adjusted you in the dress.

You had allowed the handmaidens to borrow some of your jewels, and you had almost risked your arms being cut off when you opened the box with your most precious jewels, eventually settling up on one for each girls, trying to avoid fights.

It felt almost as your own court, with no envy and no injustices, no fear and no ignorance.

It almost made you feel pride for what you had done.

In the end you had chosen to wear the dress Hilde had gifted you, almost as a reaction to Alexander’s hateful words.

The dress would be your smart rebellion.

And as you shot one last look, once your hair was pushed up around the crown, meanwhile you wore the dress, matching it with deep rubies earrings, that brought attention to your face, giving it a clean look exposing every detail of your body, as Angelika reddened your cheeks with some natural color and Caryn highlighted with expertise your eyes with a bit of kajal.

Angelika wore a royal blue gown, which you found quite fitting for the royal-looking girl, sporting a necklace with a small sapphire at its center, bringing attention to her cleavage.

Meanwhile Caryn’s dress was light almost white, highlighting the darkness of her precious skin, in a contrast that would have blinded any man, hadn’t her beauty blinded them first, matched with a collier of silver gold.

You looked like a mix between heathens and Saxons, in something that you felt didn’t fail to represent the duality of your nature.

And you felt almost good, as you exited your tent, right in time to take part in the sacrifice, with a fur mantle on your dress, hiding it completely since that night was cold and wet, as your handmaidens scurried behind you, Solveig grabbing the light train of your dress to avoid it dirtying.

First of all, you knew that there’d be the ritual sacrifice, which would happen outside and then the dinner would happen, something that you were honestly looking forward, but for the entire ritual sacrifice, you stood by Ivar’s side, trying to keep your eyes on the killing of an innocent animal.

You already felt sick to your stomach as you witnessed that.

The killing of a human wouldn’t have been something that you could stand, but you took one step at the time.

Your eyes moved around searching for Alexander almost scared to face him again, but you knew that there’d be no Saxons, at least for the ritual.

They’d join you on the dinner, and you almost hoped that Alexander wouldn’t be there, because you didn’t know what to say, how to approach him.

Had you been the previous princess, the one that desperately strived to satisfy everyone, you would have apologized.

But now the words were rough on your tongue.

Ivar’s clutched your hand as he felt you wavering away and you simply nodded at him, as the sacrifice was finished and the priestess, the same one who had officiated your marriage, moved to deck blood onto all the brothers, starting from Bjorn and moving onto Ubbe, Hvitserk and  Ivar.

And you, as she stained your forehead with the blood, then lightly dipping some on your mouth, something for which you had to hold back vomit, but you did gratefully bow at the priestess, who also stained with the blood your furs, right onto your belly.

‘… next month may you not bleed, my princess’ she spoke and she bowed, before moving away, Ivar and you blushing lightly at the implication, but Ivar also mumbled a few thankful words, and then you moved inside, Ivar disappearing from your side, as Hvitserk brought him away, and Bjorn took your husband’s place, guiding you towards the Great Hall.

Thankfully Angelika wasn’t much behind you and Caryn was at her side, Turid trailing after them, something that made you feel more comfortable as you moved in the already full, main hall, many people setting their eyes on top of you and Bjorn moved inside, with you by his side, making idle conversation.

‘How are you finding yourself, here?’

‘Well, then I hope that you’ll say the same in Kattegat’.

‘Does your husband have any intension to overthrow my mother?’.

You feigned innocence at the last question, glad that you had reached your seats, your handmaidens, waiting to take off your fur.

You were thoroughly surprised that Bjorn had been so direct, even more when he had been so disinterested in you.

But you had learned better from your awful experience with Halfdan.

You had your barriers up this time.

“… does it look like Ivar involves me in his plans?” you commented harshly, trying to tell Bjorn to ‘mind his own business’ and ‘back off’, something that took him back, probably since he was used to women smiling their way into his pants “… and even if I knew, why would I tell you?”.

“Because you care to survive” he spoke, his tongue cutting but his eyes unfocused as if you weren’t anything else than a body, and you were happy not to have shed your fur yet “… Ivar won’t win against my mother, believe me, and I do know that you are smart enough to want to survive”.

“Maybe you overvalued me, prince Bjorn” you commented softly, appearing tamed, as you remembered what Nanna had taught you about attacking others, as your eyes became sharper “… and how can you be so sure that it’ll be your mother who’ll win?”.

‘Always hit where it hurts the most’.

And with that you turned around, facing a smirking Angelika, meanwhile Caryn gently pushed your fur off your shoulder, as Turid untangled the bow at your neck, and soon you were simply in your dress in front of the blonde prince, his eyes following every line of fabric as you turned around to face him again with a small smirk.

And then you moved to take your seat, as Bjorn set himself beside you, muttering a simple ‘lucky bastard’ and you couldn’t but smirk as you turned to Caryn, Turid and Angelika, who were at a different but not-too-distant table.

They all smirked brightly at you, proudly, as they exchanged laugh and you almost wished that you could damn etiquette and join them, feeling at unease without a familiar face by your side.

Even more when your eyes caught glimpses of Alexander not too far away, his eyes ignoring you, as they settled on the cup of ale in front of him.

Suddenly, he didn’t seem to hate that beverage anymore.

Nanna came onto your table to chat with you and with the side of your eye, you caught Angelika looking at her with interest and a questioning look and you shot her a devilish look of your own, the other woman simply shaking her head annoyedly.

And then Ivar appeared on the threshold, moving closer to you, who raised up to welcome him.

And to show him your dress.

As you did, the room went quickly silent, as everybody’s eyes were suddenly onto you.

And you didn’t know whether it was for the beautiful dress or for the way your crown caught onto light, coming to live.

Or whether it was for you.

For a moment you almost thought it was for you.

The excitement of the crowd quickly thrumming in your veins, as your eyes set up on Ivar’s surprised face, before a smirk came on his own face, his eyes were fixed on you, genuinely looking at you as if you were the most beautiful spectacle of nature.

And then he was in front of you, separated simply by a table, as you gently bowed your head at him, but he held your chin between his fingers to keep your face up, as he stared in your eyes.

“Apparently Freya blessed us with an appearance” his smirk was playful, and hadn’t you been in public you would have very much liked to kiss it off.

“My prince you make me blush with your compliments” you commented softly, moving to gently grab onto his hand, as he smiled back, kissing your forehead.

He then sat beside you, the entire room having been silent the entire time, as eyes looked at you, no glares or bad eyes, but simply glances of curiosity to the wife of their youngest prince.

The one they thought they’d never see smile at a woman, like that.

You were the unified front that your deal had wanted.

He settled himself down beside you, as soon as he could, walking with a fierceness that made you laugh, and he grabbed your hand under the table, as slowly the clatter of the room came back, helped by Hvitserk who asked ‘when dinner would be served?’.

Dinner was a whirlwind of conversations about nothing and everything, as Ivar gently caressed the back of your hand he held with his thumb and for a moment…

… for a moment you wished this moment could last for ever,

“… you do look actually more beautiful than Freya” commented Ivar in your ear, as he leaned in, making you blush as you shot back a small ‘flatterer’ “… you are the most beautiful woman I have ever met”.

“Then you mustn’t have seen many women” you teased him, as he boldly kissed you with a light laughter “… you have a way with words, husband…”.

“… and you love it” it was a bold comment, but it was rewarded with a quite smile from you.

“That I do”.

“Prince Ivar” some soldier called out, ruining your moment.

Lightly embarrassed of your actions, you immediately pushed your stare onto your plate, as Ivar left your side to converse privately with the soldier, something that you allowed with a small kiss to his hand, as you were instead dragged away by your handmaidens to dance, something that made your feet and cheeks ache, from dancing and smiling too much.

You hadn’t had so much fun… in for ever.

Once you were tired of dancing and you made sure that all the girls had rightful partners for the next few dances, the Saxons having joined in although shyly, you sat down waiting for Ivar to come back, wanting to breath a bit and not feel the stench of sweat and beer attaching itself to your body.

And you were drinking ale, as you felt somebody sitting beside you.

Ubbe.

You recognized him as you raised your eyes to him, finally realizing that his gaze wasn’t set up on you, as he started to speak with you, but on Ivar who was talking surrounded by a few of his most trusted soldiers, from which you recognized his own private guards.

“… whatever deal is between you two, I am impressed that it is actually working” someone commented loudly, as they sit next to you, and when you turned you realized it was Ubbe, his insinuation making you blush.

“... or maybe we are simply enjoying the wedding bliss” you replied tightly, trying to match his disinterested tone “… you should know about it, Ivar told me that you have a wife”.

You knew that you had hit him, as you felt his teeth clatter together and tighten his jaw, but it was only a minute before that calm storm reappeared in his eyes, and you should have seen coming that nothing pleasant would happen next.

“I do think that it started all out as a deal between you two, I know my brother enough to know what he is like…” he commented as if he already knew all about it, but you just tried to ignore it, hating the way all this men seemed to know everything about you, thinking they could do better.

It reminded you of your father’s controlling ways.

“… but I think that somehow you are slowly falling in love with him” Ubbe’s admission was what your heart had hidden you in these days, almost since the start of your marriage with Ivar “… that’s why I want you to know this before anything gets further with my brother”.

You expected Ubbe to tell you about his plan to dethrone Lagertha or how moody Ivar can be…

But what Ubbe said next hit you so strongly.

“Ivar killed our brother, Sigurd”.

You choked on your own breath, as your eyes finally turned to Ubbe, almost expecting him to admit that it was a terrible joke, that he had played because he was jealous of Ivar’s happiness, but Ubbe looked back at you with a strong gaze, withholding your panicked look.

“… Sigurd and Ivar’s relationship wasn’t always good, but once, meanwhile we were also feasting Ivar threw an axe at Sigurd, and he hit him, he killed him”.

“Why are you telling me this” your voice was choked, and you couldn’t hide it.

“… because think what he did to his own blood, without any remorse…” Ubbe’s eyes were hungry for your pain “… you might own his heart, but that doesn’t mean that he won’t kill you if you betray him”-

Your feet moved on their own, as you got up, raising yourself so fast that for a moment you were startled, but your body seemed to know better, since it brought you out of the room, in the dizzyingly cold air of the night.

Somebody followed you.

Later you discovered it was Hvitserk and Nanna.

And Ivar.

“(Y/N)!” he called out to you, as you stopped in your steps, him coming closer to you, as he gently touched your shoulder, something that awakened a fear in you, and you moved startled away.

“… is it true?” your words were a simple tremble, a bare whisper, and Ivar looked at you not knowing what you meant “… did you seriously kill your brother?”.

Because if he did, any stupid illusion you had created in your mind broke down.

The silly thought of a life with him wouldn’t be broken by your own father’s ambitions, but by the fact that if he had murdered his brother, his own blood, he wouldn’t have hesitated to do the same for you.

And your love couldn’t overshadow fear in that moment.

In those days you had lost yourself in a beautiful fantasy, forgetting the harsh reality.

Alexander would have laughed loudly at this, his own prophecy coming true.

“… we can talk about it” he choked on his own words, his blue eyes hiding themselves away from yours, almost as if he was scared of your scrutiny.

And in that moment, you realized how stupid you had been.

How blind.

It didn’t take much as you looked in Ivar’s shadowed eyes to realize it was the truth.

You had lied to him, but he had also left out important pieces.

And now you were left broken.

---

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[solitvdcs]

* lana condor, cis female + she/her | you know parker hassan, right? they’re twenty-one, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, their whole life? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to work bitch by britney spears like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole grass-stained jeans, overfilled ice cream cones, off-key karaoke thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is march 28, so they’re an aries, which is unsurprising, all things considered.

basic info

full name: parker theresa hassan

birth date: march 28, 1999

pronouns: she/her

hometown: irving, north carolina

sexuality: pansexual (very very VERY heavily female leaning, with an unfortunate mild attraction to men)

height: 5′1″ on a good day

eye color: dark brown

hair color: black

build: athletic

tattoos: the ny yankees emblem on the back of her neck

piercings: earlobes, won’t go any further because she would have to plug them during baseball season and it’s a pain in the ass

style: comfort over style, function over fashion. unless she’s going out then as few clothes as possible while still being considered “decent”

favorite color: orange

favorite food: cupcakes

zodiac: aries sun, leo moon, sagittarius rising

mbti: estp

hogwarts house: gryffindor

enneagram: type 7 wing 8

temperament: sanguine-melancholic

alignment: chaotic neutral

growing up, parker was always really close to her dad. tom hassan was a minor league baseball player that had almost made it to the pros before he suffered a career ending injury, and parker had inherited his athletic ability. she was able to throw a baseball at the ripe young age of three, and by the time all of her friends were starting tee-ball, she had already joined little league. practicing brought parker and her dad closer together, and she knew if she looked out from the pitcher's mound, her dad would be in the stands watching.

and then one day, he wasn't.

when parker was a sophomore in high school, and the only girl on the boy's baseball team, she was a pitch away from throwing the first no-hitter in her school's history. she was on fire, and nothing could break her focus. she looked up to meet her dad's eyes — like she always did before she was about to throw the last pitch - and tom hassan wasn't there. parker lost her focus and the batter hit a home run; her team still won the game ultimately, but parker still felt like she lost.

DEATH/DRUGS/ALCOHOL TW. after that day, parker gave up on everything. she wasn't ready to take on so much responsibility; she was fifteen, for crying out loud! she did everything she could to stray away from responsibility: she quit the baseball team, her grades slipped, she started hanging out with an undesirable crowd, and she discovered the wonders of alcohol. it was nice to forget her problems for a night, even if they came to confront her in the sober light of day. but one night, she got in the car with a guy she'd been seeing - she knew he'd been drinking, but he swore he was good to drive. parker was too far gone to argue, so she climbed in the back while he and his friend claimed the front two seats. what happened next was a blur, but the next thing she knew, the car was wrapped around a tree. the two guys were unconscious or dead — she couldn't be sure which — but she luckily had come out relatively unharmed. she climbed out and ran, the adrenaline sobering her up enough to get her to a safe place. the two were pronounced dead on arrival, and nobody ever found out she was in the car with them, and she swore nobody ever would.

parker realized her coping mechanisms weren’t working, and she tried to slip back into her old life as smoothly as possible. she trained for hours every day over the summer to get herself back into shape for the next baseball season, and though the coach was skeptical, he could see the effort she was making. this time it was her decision to continue, not her father’s; everything about her life was in spite of him instead. but once baseball season was over, she found herself slipping back into old habits, only to have to train as hard to get ready for the next season. it was a vicious cycle, but without baseball to distract her, she couldn’t sit with her own thoughts. and then the college offers started pouring in, everyone wanting a piece of the pr gold mine she was. she decided on ucla, because it was as far away as she could get from the demons that haunted her mind whenever it was at rest. but what the fuck was she supposed to do with her life, besides baseball?

parker’s radio show came about towards the end of her freshman year at the campus radio station. it took a lot of work to convince her professor to actually let her start one, since she wasn't exactly known for being "responsible", but with months of research and planning to back her up, her professor finally gave in. with parker's popularity around campus, "parks and sex" quickly became the most listened to radio show in the area, and once it became available for download on itunes and spotify, the most downloaded podcast. for the first time, it was something that truly felt like her accomplishment.

and then, her little sister got sick.

the middle child of five, the hassan siblings were thick as thieves their whole lives, and parker had been the first to make a break for it. as soon as the semester ended, she was on a plane home and in the process of transferring back. as much as she wanted to keep her hopes high that her sister would be okay, she also didn’t want to miss what could be her last moments with them. her last semester of college is underway, and she’s terrified for what comes next, but hey — at least the baseball team has been doing better since she got back!

[raspberryranpo]

I don't know if requests are open or how this works, but can I ask for something involving a sick Claude and canon characters? (So no reader involved, but Byleth is fine) And sorry if I am annoying ^^

comforting a sick claude

fire emblem three houses: claude & golden deer

yes!!! i don’t mind doing headcanons like these, but i hope you don’t mind that i only did the gd :):) & you’re not annoying at all lolol

HILDA

after much reluctance, hilda would probably be one of the last to go and make sure claude was doing ok

because “it’s not her fault that idiot got himself sick” and “she just can’t make it today, she’s got other jobs to do”

hilda eventually made it to claude’s room, having heard the coughs from all the way down the hallway

she’d complain about him exposing her to his illness or whatnot but she’d stay with him for the rest of the evening

only leaving at night when he promises her that he won’t overexert himself again

she does care for claude a lot, deep down, so she was quite worried

LORENZ

now lorenz.... was even more reluctant to see claude. more so than hilda

he didn’t like to be seen caring for his #1 rival, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he didn’t care

he’d go up once hilda left in the night, when claude was still sat up & bring him something small from the cafeteria

he’d sigh and scold him for being so reckless & irresponsible, but then proceed to feel his forehead for a temperature

he would also bring up some medicinal tea

lorenz would leave soon after that, not saying anything, but he’d feel happy that he put his pride aside and “comforted” his friend

MARIANNE

she’s probably the first person to rush up to claude’s side, bless her

marianne brings out her healing spells and gets to work immediately, but very gently reminds him that he’ll only get better if he doesn’t overwork himself

she constantly feels his forehead & holds his hand very gently

always reassuring him that everything will work out in the end

seeing claude, of all people, being ill probably scared her a bit

but she doesn’t leave his side for the whole morning, and only leaves when the next person comes in

LYSITHEA

also quite worried for claude, but obviously doesn’t show it on her face

she comes in when she’s sure nobody else is there (for real, why’re claude’s friends so mean to him) just to bring him some desserts from the cafeteria

quietly admits that cakes make her feel better so she’s hoping it’ll do the same for him

he’s obviously very grateful for that since he knows how lysithea is

she sits for a little bit in silence before asking him how exactly he got in that situation

she laughs, but wishes that he’ll get back to telling his stupid jokes in class again soon

RAPHAEL

rest in piece to claude von riegan if he has a headache because raphael will not help

he’s trying his best to keep his voice down but he’s just naturally loud, so he can’t really help it

raph is trying his best though, he really is

he brings claude some meat from the cafeteria claiming that it’s well known for helping headaches go away

claude knows it probably doesn’t do that but accepts anyway

he has no clue how to help claude (since helping claude was never a planned situation for anyone) but he is definitely trying

IGNATZ

not worried like everyone else, surprisingly - understands that illness happens to the best of us

brings claude some water from the cafeteria (not his paint water) & offers to refill it the second claude finishes it

found that sleepy, ill claude was actually quite fun to look at, and mentally took a picture to sketch later on

comes in while marianne is in there & both are just apologising to each other non stop for no apparent reason

claude’s just sat there awkwardly

LEONIE

WHAT?! claude?? ill?? NEVER. not on leonie’s watch.

concerned parent. scared parent.

there wasn’t many minor illnesses in her village so she had no clue how to properly take care of a mildly sick person

claude reassures her that she doesn’t have to do anything but she’s insistent that she helps him

since everything else has been done for him, she just talks quietly to him

probably about captain jeralt though

[ncfan-1]

fic meme!

tagged by @anghraine

Name:

ncfan

Most popular multi-chapter fic:

Well, if we’re going by hits or by comments, that’ll be Our Path is Crooked, but True. By kudos, it’s Of Rings and Knighthood and Their Associated Misunderstandings.

Favorite story you’ve written so far:

I would have a hard time saying; I’ve written so many so far, and honestly, I plan to keep on writing fic until I drop dead, so by this time next year, I’ll probably have a new favorite. For right now, that’s probably The Sacred and Profane.

Fic you were nervous to post:

I have tried to leave my nervousness behind me, since it seemed to be that in 2020 of all years, I should really just stop giving a damn if my readers are going to be offended by what I post. I do recall some nervousness regarding Our Path is Crooked, but True, since Ingrid and Edelgard are both divisive characters, and Crimson Flower is a divisive route. But the reception from my readers was so positive that any nervousness I felt evaporated pretty quickly.

How you choose your titles

Ahahaha, don’t call me out like this. It’s usually either a line from a poem, or some phrase I thought was terribly clever, but turned out not to be very clever at all.

Do you outline?

For my multi-chapter fics, sometimes. Like, I will definitely do it if I’m going into the fic knowing that it’s going to be a long one and complex enough that I need written notes to keep track of plot development and character arc developments, but if I know it’s not going to be that long or that complicated, or if I don’t think it’s going to be long and complicated when I get into it (like, Saudade turned out to be 22 chapters and 200,000 words long, but I didn’t think it was going to be anywhere near that long when I started writing it, so I didn’t bother with an outline), I don’t bother.

For oneshots, no. I can’t remember the last time I wrote a oneshot complex enough that I needed written notes to keep hold of everything I need to keep hold of.

Complete fics:

That is not as simple a question as you might think. Fanfiction.net was my first fic writing platform, and there was a lot of stuff that I didn’t bother migrating to AO3 when I migrated to AO3, but there was still a lot of overlap, too. My AO3 fic count as of this date (12/22/2020) is 619. My Fanfiction.net fic count is 1,411.

In progress:

Posted WIPs that I have active plans to continue at this time: On the Ragged Shore. All of the chapters are written, I just have to get off of my ass long enough to finish proofreading them.

Posted WIPs that I have given up on: Alas, Face to Face. I poured so much time and effort into it, but even though I knew it wasn’t likely to get much attention, I still became really, really discouraged by the disconnect between the amount of effort I poured into it, and the amount of attention and feedback it got. This fic is the one that made me start my rule that I wouldn’t post a WIP until I had finished writing all chapters, barring certain circumstances.

Exchange fics due soon/unrevealed: None.

WIPs that live in my fanfic folder and are incomplete and who knows when they’ll be finished:

I have four of those at present.

1. Under Observation, which has an incomplete outline, eight finished chapters, and the ninth chapter in progress. Basically, just watch me write a ridiculously long adaptation of that one episode of TMA where that guy turned out to be full of eyeballs, for my crackship that has two fics on AO3, and watch me wriggle in frustration as the fact that Clara’s dead means that I can only skirt around the edges of my Vast-aligned Clara head canon.

2. In the Hollow of Your Heart, which has a complete timeline and an incomplete outline, and no chapters written. It’s a retelling of the Silver Snow route of Fire Emblem: Three Houses, made to scratch these specific itches: Sylveth written the way I want to see Sylveth written; a version of Silver Snow that properly capitalizes on the apocalyptic feel the route sort of had, but didn’t really fulfill (the godless land! The fall of civilization! They had so much, and didn’t do nearly enough with it); emotionally traumatizing zombies; more focus on the Nabateans, especially Flayn. This one’s going to be daunting, because I have outlined, so far *checks notes* fifty-five chapters, and I’d say there’s probably going to be about another fifteen to twenty of them.

3. Shall These Bones Live?, the Fourth Age Finduilas x Maeglin fic which nobody asked for, but since it’s still my crackotp, I want to write anyways. I’ve got a document with characterization and world-building notes that I’m still working on, no outline, and no chapters written. Of the first three fics on this list, it’s actually the one that took root in my mind first, by the way.

4. A secret project. Basically, I want to write a fic remix of another fic, but I’m still waiting to hear back from the writer of the original fic on whether or not they’ll grant me permission. The only way I could find to contact them that wasn’t a comment section was through the PM function on their Fanfiction.net account, which there’s been no activity on in over a year. Yeah.

Coming soon/not yet started:

None that I can think of.

Do you accept prompts:

Not as such. When Legendarium Ladies April rolls around, I like to do as many of their prompts as I can fit in, but it’s rare for any other prompt events to move me the way this one does, and I don’t accept prompts from individual users.

Upcoming story you are most excited to write:

Shall These Bones Live?, if I can ever finish that notes sheet and start outlining it. Also, if I ever hear back from the writer of the fic I want to remix, I’d be a little nervous to do the remix (I’ve never done a fic remix before), but also excited.

Tagging, if you want to do it: @chidorinnnnn, @qserasera, @avelera, and anyone else who happens to see this.

[someobscurereference]

Graceless Heart Fic (Spoiler) Notes

These are notes for my 80K Fire Emblem fic “Graceless Heart.” These notes are full of SPOILERS! Please read the fic first! Beware at your own risk!

The notes will be under a Read More. Mobile users, if it doesn’t work for you, I’m so sorry.

SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS BELOW:

GENERAL NOTES:

Sumeragi was at work while Corrin was saying goodbye to the Hoshido family. He already said goodbye to Corrin that morning. That’s why he doesn’t appear here.

Xander texting Inigo back a heart emoji: I don’t see Xander as an emoji person, but I think Inigo is definitely the type to use a lot of hearts and whatnot when texting. Xander would not do that on his own, but if you look at his phone, you’ll see his most used (and only) emojis are the heart ones that Inigo sends him. Because Xander is willing to mimic how Inigo shows his affection for the sake of mutual reciprocation. Plus he got made fun of for being so stiff and formal when he writes.

Dock Fight with the Trio: Owain is genuinely embarrassed and Inigo really is going to tease him with those memes, but they’re all friends. This is not a serious fight. Severa and Inigo are not being deliberate assholes here. They’re all having fun.

The book Leo is reading when Owain asks is The Gift of Fear by Gavin de Becker.

Everyone’s swimsuits are based on what they wear in FE Heroes as summer units or their outfits in the Beach Brawl DLC, minus Corrin, who wears a swim t-shirt on top of whatever bathing suit you imagine for them.

In a real situation where someone is drowning, you should probably not grab them the way Corrin grabs Inigo. A drowning person is very likely to harm or hinder their rescuer due to panic. I just wrote that scene a little less realistically in the fic because I didn’t want to deal with that and, like I say in the notes, I’m functioning on action movie logic. Action movies aren’t realistic.

When Corrin tells Inigo that they’ll keep his almost drowning a secret so long as he lets them know if he has health problems later and Elise tells Inigo to let them know if he has bad dreams, what Elise is actually saying is “Hey, if you start to get PTSD over this, let us know so we can help you.” But she doesn’t want to be so blunt, making this be the type of thing Inigo keeps to himself and suffers through alone, so she says “bad dreams” instead to phrase it with less stigma.

You’ll notice after Inigo’s near drowning that I mention how exhausted he feels when he’s having a freakout on the floor of his cabin, how tired he is the next morning before, during, and after the shopping trip, how he leans heavily on stuff and people, etc. His fatigue can be explained by stress and other normal things. However, it is also a result of the lake water being genuinely bad for people! Most people who go to the lake naturally get this vibe and don’t swim too far out into it/tend to visit the lake in groups or pairs so the chances of drowning decrease. (I almost wrote some of this into Anankos’s dialogue but it felt wonky and didn’t fit.). Corrin also feels this same exhaustion in subsequent scenes, although it’s emphasized less.

Likewise, when Owain and Corrin are stranded in the middle of the water, they also grow quite exhausted rather quickly because (a) the closer to the center of the lake, the more powerful the Bad Vibes that drain your energy and (b) there’s so much rain and water everywhere that as they swallow, they’re also growing more and more tired. Also, fear takes a lot out of a person in general.

Similarly, when Corrin’s foot gets grabbed on the docks, I mention a few times that their legs feel heavy, etc. This is all related to Evil Lake Energy. Severa’s almost drowning is the same deal as Inigo. Everyone who gets in the water (especially if they swallow any) experience this same lack of energy. It’s worse if you actually swallow some water right out there in the middle of the lake and you’re just more susceptible to that kind of bad magic like Anankos unfortunately was. Corrin has been through the wringer at the end of this fic because of constant exposure. They’re on nothing but bedrest for a good number of days after the end of this fic. Lots and lots of sleep for them. Owain is only mildly better in that he doesn’t have to be admitted to the hospital but does need A Lot of sleep. Rest assured that they do eventually recover though.

Elise “lying to Xander and Camilla about stuff all the time” — A reference to in-game canon about how Elise regularly ditches her retainers and goes around to the poorer parts of the city where she is explicitly forbidden to go. She’s surprisingly sneaky and has no problems not telling her siblings about this.

I paraphrased some dialogue from in-game between Leo, Niles and Owain when the latter are trying to convince Leo to swim because it mimicked a Beach Brawl DLC scene.

“Pot, kettle” = a reference to Niles canonically reminiscing about the past in his and Leo’s support. He likely does that in this AU on occasion as well.

Camilla’s SUV has 3 rows of seats because she loves the extra room for bags/extra passenger space.

Some of Camilla and Xander’s interactions and some of Xander’s narration referencing her is also a direct reference to their Supports in Fates also. In this fic, Camilla’s jab at being surprised Xander would ever notice how she felt about Severa because he’s always so busy is more a jab to get him to back off than a pride thing like in canon, but the pride is probably still there too.

Severa lives! She lived because I wanted her too (and because I cannot stand any character death in fics that isn’t like “The Villain Died Forever Ago And Maybe There’s Danger But Everyone Else Is Fine”), but it is a sort of miracle. Camilla did not do proper drowning rescue procedure here. Nobody did. I’m sure you picked up on that from the panic and flashbacks and whatnot. Everyone did their best at handling that rescue, but it wasn’t great. There is too much Panic™ to remain calm, although in real life that’s absolutely what you should try to do in an emergency. Camilla’s one (1) exchange of air is not usually going to save the life of somebody who is really in danger. The only reason it worked is because (a) Severa wasn’t really dead, although she sure looked like it and (b) this is fantasy fiction. Please call emergency services in a situation like this irl or immediately drive to the nearest hospital if there is no cell service and it’s safe to do so.

Xander’s last conversation with Inigo in this fic directly stem from his fear of (a) not being in control and (b) not being strong enough to protect those he cares about.

Originally Elise was going to be the one who figured out Anankos drowned, but somehow while writing it just didn’t work that way, mostly because she ended up stuck by the cars. Whoops. You’re the real hero in my heart, Elise.

 CHARACTER NOTES:

Owain’s insecurities stem from his Felicia and Severa supports where Owain reacts very negatively to being called weird. Also from the hc that growing up in modern AU with public school would probably emphasize that insecurity too, since kids can be real bullies. I very much picture him as the “Weird Kid” in class who was in his own little world and other kids whispered about him for it. Which is unfair, because he’s really just having fun :( By middle school/high school, he’s likely learned to tone this down a little, but only after a series of Bad Memories that make him develop a fear that everyone is just barely tolerating him or is making fun of him behind his back. It’s an infrequent insecurity because Owain is pretty good at not really caring what others think, but it’s one that exists all the same. He’s known Niles and Leo for a year or maybe two at this point, but when Leo admits (like in canon) to hating Owain when they first met, it triggers those insecurities again and sets back the progress the three of them had made in working up to a relationship together.

Corrin has a peacemaker type personality in Fates and always wants to believe the best in everyone to the point where they only seem to learn their lesson of “trust but have a backup plan” near the end of the Revelations route. I think I was mostly true to that character of Corrin in my other horror fic Dark Things Grew. And I think I was mostly true to that version of canon here until the part where Corrin and Owain are stuck in the middle of the lake together. (If you think Corrin was 100% what you expected all the way through, yay! But if not: ) Perhaps Corrin is a little more freaked out or snappier than some of you might have expected. However, I am taking some liberties with the fact this is a modern world AU here. In Fates, magic is real. Dragons are real. Ogre monsters that you can summon out of thin air to do your fighting for you (i.e. Faceless) are real. Some things are less likely than others, but there’s a whole realm of magical possibility that doesn’t exist in our reality. So when you find out that the lake your mom used to visit all the time is possessed (huh????) by a demon (?????) whose voice you are hearing in your head (???????) and also who is not a demon but actually your ghost dad (????????) who is trying to kill you and all your friends you guess (????????) but you’re not really sure what’s going on still except for the fact that oh, Ariana, we’re really in it now, aaaahhhhhhhHHHHH—

Well, you, too, would probably be a little upset. Corrin is the same at their core. They’re just allowed to go “Yo, what the heck” now. (I almost had Corrin say the F word in just their narration once and I couldn’t do it :/) They go through a lot of feelings in the climax of this fic, actually, and I hope they felt at least somewhat reasonable reactions to you, the reader, since the situation Corrin finds themselves in is so unprecedented, stressful, and wack.

Also, this is true for all characters! They’ve been mildly adapted into modern counterparts. This means some experiences that shaped them in Awakening/Fates didn’t happen here or were adapted into modern equivalents. (For example, Inigo is a little less able to run face first into battle than in Awakening/Fates bc he didn’t experience the terror and necessity of having to fight the Risen as a young kid. He still grew up shy and is a (self-admitted in Supports) crybaby who tries to hide those facets of himself, however. Hence why he feels the need to put on a brave face after Bad Things Happen. He still feels like he needs to be a pillar of support for people, although he’s a less steady than his more hardened counterpart. Similar extractions can be applied to other characters throughout this fic.

I often write Severa/Camilla as a very doting, established relationship. A lot of the time the conflict in my stories comes from some outside factor—a dragon, a war, magic, etc. I don’t write a lot of interpersonal conflict, and it’s something I thought I should try my hand at least once. Camilla and Severa’s dynamic here specifically draws from Camilla’s habit of keeping her true feelings close to her chest in her supports. In canon with Selena, she very obviously gives noncommittal answers to Selena’s demands that Camilla praise her for being the best. With Xander, Camilla lies by omission—when he guesses her favorite food wrong, she pretends he’s right for the sake of (presumably) not embarrassing him and proving he doesn’t actually know his siblings better than she does. I’m sure there are other incidents where Camilla hides her true feelings too. I’ve always wondered about these events. Emotionally, Camilla is a very interesting character to me. She has a lot of thoughts and feelings, but she seems to keep a lot of them to herself. I wish that was explored more in-game.

Here, I combined Camilla’s natural tendency to keep her true feelings to herself with her canonical childhood loneliness. She canonically felt bereft of maternal love as a child, and that’s why she tries to shower so much on Corrin. In this fic, Camilla is afraid of opening herself up to love from others. She can dole it out because she doesn’t want to deprive anyone (specifically Corrin, who was isolated a lot via Garon) of that same love, but in turn she never wants to actually be vulnerable with anyone. Family gets special privileges, but even her siblings don’t get to see everything. She has romantic feelings for Severa, but she’s afraid of opening herself up to potential hurt and having that love thrown back in her face later. So Camilla does herself the favor of not allowing herself to be vulnerable in the first place. There’s some part of her that really does want to openly love and be loved by Severa, however. So that’s the yo-yo affect Severa is dealing with throughout this fic.

Camilla knows, factually, that Severa likes her too. But she also has this defense mechanism she’s used her whole life. She wants the best of both worlds; she wants to teeter on the edge of romance/intimacy she and Severa both crave while still keeping Severa at arm’s length so she never actually has to face the danger of being potentially vulnerable with Severa and therefore hurt. Which, you know. Is shitty. (Sometimes the people you love can do shitty things. Sometimes you can do shitty things. I think Camilla’s character is more complex, realistic, and interesting here because of it. I hope you think the same.)

And Camilla keeps it up until she realizes losing Severa is still a very real possibility whether or not she admits her feelings. It’s too late to pretend otherwise. She’s already vulnerable to that hurt she wanted to avoid. The shock of that revelation, the fear of losing Severa, and also McFreaking Water Ghost is enough to get her to admit her feelings and change her behavior. It’s not all peaches and cherries from here on out for them, but it’s a start. They’re taking it slow.

Camilla isn’t a villain here, which I say because I worry some people may think I wrote her to be villainous. Sometimes the people you love have baggage. Severa has it too. So does everyone else in this fic and in your actual real life. That’s natural. Sometimes we do shit things because of that baggage. It happens. Does that mean you get an excuse for your actions? Absolutely not. Apologize. Do better. Camilla is trying. They’ll go from here.

I was trying for a lot more nuanced, complex approach to these two this time around rather than the zero interpersonal problems approach. It was new for me too. I hope it payed off.

Anyway, love wins.

A VERY BAD OUTLINE OF THE CABINS THAT I MADE IN PAINT 3D AND A FLOOR PLAN I STOLE FROM GOOGLE IMAGES 2 YEARS AGO:

 I am so sorry for the quality of this, lmao

[voltronseatbelts]

Untitled Bounty Hunter AU Excerpt

Summary:

Someone put a bounty on Keith Kogane’s head. Space grifter Lance McClain intends to collect that, but nobody told him exactly who he’s delivering to the doorstep of the Galra Empire. And just how cute his ass is.

Word Count: 1.7k

Rating: Mature

Keith keeps a hand in Lance's coat pocket as they trudge through the whistling snow. Lance grins wickedly under the scarf pulled over his nose from the bar to Blue, only widening when Keith crowds against his back as he fumbles with the keys.

"Your ship uses keys?" Keith asks incredulously, but his voice is gruff against the wind and sends a thrill down Lance's spine.

"Hey, she's a high-functioning antique. I take spectacular care of her, so I won't have you insulting my Blue," Lance says as the door finally swings open. He turns around in Keith's arms and steps inside backwards, tugging him along.

It's a right fucking shame, really, this night won't actually end how Keith's dark smirk clearly wants it to. And, evidently, how the zipping under Lance's skin wants when Keith shuts out the Zarian tundra and pulls Lance in by his waist.

Like, the first time Lance finds someone who’s not covered in fur or frightening claws, someone who oddly looks so much like him, and he has other plans. What the fuck, fate?

This Keith Kogane is by no means an inexperienced kisser. It's evident in the way he angles them, bites at Lance's lower lip to trick him into slipping some good old tongue in. Lance groans into it, even as they hastily shed off their outer layers and Lance guides them--trips them--towards the back of the ship.

He breaks away at the short set of stairs leading to the lower deck and drags Keith down by his wrist. Blue kind of lacks doors, so there's only a few more steps before they reach the edge of the sprawling king bed complete with the most luxurious red silk sheets this side of the quadrant.

Keith stops running his hands enticingly down Lance's sides and raises an eyebrow at the bed. He doesn't even need to use words, because Pidge and Hunk have commented the same thing one too many times. Seriously? This is what you devote your limited floor space to?

"What? You're not going to be mocking it when I have you on it," Lance says.

Keith rolls his eyes—in a way that completely shouldn't send heat down his navel, but shamefully does—and goes in for another kiss, hands beginning to roam again.

Lance almost loses himself in the feeling of it, in Keith rucking up his shirt to find the grooves of his hips and, in turn, the dimples on his back right below his waistband. When they start to stray farther, he starts and snatches them away before they can feel the handcuffs still in his left back pocket.

Keith leans back, puzzled, but Lance smirks coolly and entwines their fingers, the leather of Keith’s gloves rough against his palms. God, what kind of guy wears fingerless gloves?

"Didn't take you for handsy," he hums.

"Only because you're slow," Keith scoffs.

"Yeah?"

Keith tilts his chin up in defiance, and that's all Lance needs to use his leverage to push Keith back until his knees buckle on the mattress edge. He flops down, their hands releasing as he catches himself on his elbows.

"It's all about foreplay anyway, Keith." He clambers on top, bracketing Keith's hips with his thighs and kissing the side of his neck. He nips at the skin with a little pride when Keith's breath hitches. "Feel bad for your other fucks if this is how you treat them."

"I don't—ah, I don't have other one-night stands," Keith replies, hands clenching in the sheets as Lance works his love bite.

He straightens abruptly. "Wait, really?"

"It's not a big deal," Keith scowls. "But I just accomplished something big on a mission, so I figured I'd treat myself."

And, really, maybe Lance should be worried at just how well their conversation and current...shenanigans are going, because a good 70 percent of him screams to just forget the bounty and go through with his next line:

"Guess I should reward you then, eh?"

But the rest, the reasonable 30 percent, bellows something like, Four million! Four million! Think of how many blasters you can weld to Blue with four million! Or the food he can buy, the clothes, and the trip he can plan back to Earth, the look on his mother's face when he lands for the first time in a decade on their front lawn—

Yeah, no, Lance has a job to do. There's no more time to waste. Not even on admiring the mark blooming just under Keith's ear.

He kisses Keith hard again, hellbent on working him up as he subtly scoots him up the bed. If Keith’s breathy moans and barely restrained hip rolls are anything to go by, it’s succeeding, though with the unfortunate side effect of sending Lance into a bit of a spiral, too.

When Keith relaxes against the pillows, Lance goes down with him. He runs his hands down Keith’s chest and yanks his shirt up his chest, and Keith pauses to pull it the rest of the way over his head.

Lance whistles, admiring the obviously conditioned muscles. Aged and fresh scars criss-cross the skin, including a slash of mutilated skin on his shoulder, but Lance is no stranger to the physical reminders of the Galra Empire.

Keith smirks anew at Lance’s distracted staring and doesn’t hold back when he rolls his hips.

“Jesus fucking Christ, who are you, and how did you get in my bed,” Lance groans.

“’m Keith,” Keith replies.

“Don’t be a smartass, that’s my job.” Lance glowers, but his attempt at daggering Keith into submission fails when he repeats the same friction—and if Lance lets this go on any longer, there’s no way he’ll survive.

So, he kisses him again, rougher and more unsteady than the last. He takes the chance to run his hands over Keith’s shoulders, down to his biceps, forearms, until Lance presses his hands into the silk. In the next breath, when Keith moans lewdly into his mouth, he takes both of Keith’s hands and raises them over his head.

Keith just whines, sufficiently distracted, as Lance gathers both wrists into one hand and reaches behind himself. He extracts the handcuffs from his pocket, brings them up to the pillow—

And snaps it over one of Keith’s wrists. Before Keith registers the cold metal, Lance snaps the other, and the tinny click activates the magnetic strips. In the next second, the handcuffs zap themselves to the metal wall of Blue, a low buzz indicating just how well Keith is now stuck.

Keith drops his head to the pillow and cranes backward to see the faintly glowing handcuffs. He looks back at Lance with a raised brow and quizzical eye.

“Shouldn’t kinks be something you discuss beforehand?” he asks flatly, still panting.

“Less kinky, more captured,” Lance says. “Guess you’re a different kind of fucked now, aren’t you?”

Keith’s smirk drops into confusion, understanding, and twists into outrage.

“Fuck you,” he hisses, yanking against the handcuffs hard enough to carve bruises. It sends the buzz into varying octaves with each attempt, but Pidge has truly done excellent work on them. They don’t even budge.

“’S no use, buddy, they’re a Holt creation,” Lance shrugs, sitting back on his haunches to appreciate his handiwork. “And it’s a shame, really. If you were anyone else, I’d definitely be blowing you right now. But you’re Keith Kogane, and there’s a bounty on your head for four million GAC with my name on it.”

With that, he climbs off the bed, righting his shirt and smoothing his hair back into place while Keith gasps and struggles on the bed. He’s still shirtless, his hair wild against the pillows. A forlorn part of Lance simmers with want, but he forces himself to look away.

“Think I might upgrade my baby to a key fob when I turn you into the Galra Empire,” he says instead, clearing his throat. “I don’t know what you did to piss them off enough to offer that bounty, but I’m gonna collect the shit out of it.”

At that, Keith falls limply against the sheets, alarm spreading through his wide eyes and breathing heavily.

“Lance, don’t—”

“Now, don’t mind me, I just need to pat you down a little.”

“You’re not fucking turning me in.”

“And why not?” Lance scoffs, starting at Keith’s ankles and working his way up. “I won, fair and square. I need that money.”

“You don’t understand, they’ll kill me—”

“What the Galra do is none of my business. I just collect the checks, man.”

“They’ll kill everyone—”

“Cut the sob story, this isn’t Space Dr. Phil.”

“I can’t believe I was about to fuck you, you asshole.”

“That was my genius plan.” He feels Keith’s thighs maybe a little too enthusiastically as he reaches the belt slung over his hips. “Oh, hello. Jackpot.”

He undoes the buckle and slips it off. The supple brown leather dangles from his hand with the weight of a peculiar black sheath.

“Lance—”

He admires the well-crafted hilt before sliding the blade carefully from its home, resting the curved, cool metal in his palms.

“That is one helluva dagger,” he says, turning it over. “It’s gotta be expensive, could treat my friends to a nice dinner with it, maybe…”

An emblem on the hilt catches his attention. His stomach swoops as he studies the strange insignia, a set of purple lines carved into black. It feels familiar. No, he’s definitely seen it before, though he honestly can’t—

No, no, he can. He does.

A massive, bloodstained sword skitters into the path of his feet, only inches away from his bare toes.  His eyes whip up to the scaly Galra thrown to the floor, a cry wrenched out of her upon impact.

She turns her torn face to him and hoarsely shouts, “Go, go! Join the others!”

He reaches for the sword, marveling at the glowing purple insignia embedded into the hilt, but a sentry thunders down the hallway. As it raises its spear and plunges it straight into her chest, he wails and stumbles the other way.  

Lance blinks, and the memory dissipates, leaving behind phantom terror coursing through his chest.

“Holy shit!” he yelps, tossing the blade onto the bed and hopping back several paces. He gapes at Keith, at Keith, whoever the fuck Keith is. “You didn’t fucking tell me you’re a—a member of the Blade of Marmora!”