#SHE STOLE THE HEIR TO THE THRONE this is not an ideal situation for the older edward but he walked right into this one LOLOLOL

[nostalgia-tblr]

speaking of consort queens, here's an exciting READING UPDATE:

edward ii's queen, isabella, went off to france a few pages ago and he was like "u make nice for us with ur brother the king of france and then come back by midsummer okay?" and she was like "yeah sure" and then she kind of loitered in france for a bit and then edward sent his eldest son - also called edward, just to confuse ppl - off to france to pay homage to the king of france for the duchy of wherever(1) and then isabella swooped in and collected the kid, which nobody was very fussed about cos he's her son too, and it's well past midsummer by now but isabella's been so meek and subservient like a good and proper womanly wife so surely she isn't going to do anything that -

WELL SURPRISE, MOTHERFUCKERS. isabella's now set up a rival english court in france and is wearing black and claiming she's a widow(2) and she is NOT sending the smaller edward back home he's hers now and he's the REAL king of england, oh and also she has a new man in her life called roger mortimer (pretty sure they are banging) who i assume is related to those troublesome mortimers from an earlier chapter and regardless of whatever happens next i am sure i speak for all of us when i say this is currently prime good-for-her-dot-gif material:

i think this is all probably treason in some way but fuck it a long-suffering queen can have a little treason sometimes, as a treat.

this post has FOOTNOTES because it is a WORK OF HISTORY:

(1) the kings of england were at this point vassals of the king of france for their lands there (yes this is indeed a bone of contention for them generally LOLOLOLOL).

(2) she says their marriage has been DESTROYED by edward's close relationship with his favourite Hugh de Spenser (not sure if they are banging or not) and indeed hugh has been working to displace her from her prior position of influence (she seemingly got on okay with his previous favourite, who was horribly murdered by the nobility several chapters ago).

[ironforgedrp]

♛   VICKON II GREYJOY

↳ details; 32 (b. 473AC), male ↳ status; bisexual, widowed, no children ↳ faceclaim; ricky whittle ↳ hails from; pyke, the iron isles ↳ loyalty; house greyjoy, the iron throne.

↳ title; lord reaper of pyke, ruling lord of the iron isles ↳ religion; the drowned god ↳ spoken languages; common tongue ↳ reason for being in sunspear; the summit

♛   PERSONALITY

↳ type; executive ESTJ-A ↳ alignment; chaotic neutral ↳ star sign; scorpio ↳ positives; resilient, self-sufficient, versatile, cautiously open minded, loyal, tenacious, devout ↳ negatives; wounded, romantically-emotionally stunted, tentatively paranoid, can overly ambitious and also stern

♛  BIOGRAPHY

↳ family lineage.

his father, balon greyjoy had married his mother when they were barely into man and womanhood. her name was uthora goodbrother and was the middle-born daughter of house goodbrother, with dark auburn hair and sharp hazel eyes she had caught the heir of pyke’s attention during a celebration her house attended at his home. after a short courting period, and the elated enthusiasm from balon’s own father at the match, they wed when the young lady uthora was seventeen. sweethearts didn’t really describe their relationship, as there was nothing sweet about it: it was fire and passion and adventure, adrenalin hunting, risk taking and enjoying their youth as any ironborn would. of course that did slow down when, after two years they found themselves expecting their first child together. it would go on to be a boy, who uthora insisted on naming vickon after the first elected lord to ever rule the iron isles. such a name would come with a burden of expectations, but both balon and uthora intended on fostering a fierce child in their heir, and any children to come.

there was another child after the dark haired, brown-eyed vickon was born. a few years later, a girl would join the growing family, bringing the song of children’s laugher and riot into the salty walls of pyke. trained hard from their childhood, both the two children of balon and uthora spent half their time on land and the other half either on or in the sea. balon inserted lessons in military strategy and captainship, insisting his heirs work every position on the decks of a ship from deckhand to helmsman to pot wash. uthora also took it upon herself to raise her daughter as she had been raised; strong, smart, wise and a capable ironborn. they had no imminent plans for more children right away, as they were still young parents and that might have been the reason why the sudden passing of uthora was so hard on balon and the two children. she had, unexpectedly, found herself with child far too quickly for both hers and balon’s liking. they wanted to ensure they could raise vickon and his sister right, they could handle the iron islands like the true rulers they needed to be and after a long discussing and many tears they summoned a maester and a moon tea was brewed. though she was only weeks into her third pregnancy, and there was no reason to expect any problems, over the night that came the lady uthora succumbed to complications that young vickon never learned of and she never saw the sunlight or smelled the sea again. mourning was hard, seeing his younger sister cry and beg the drowned god for their mama to come back, it broke vickons heart. in fact, for months afterwards, his little sister would climb into bed with him in a state of quiet sorrow.

when his father remarried a dornish woman, vickon found himself in a strange situation. he wanted his father to be happy, and he seemed to be, but he resented any woman who would wear his late mother’s title of ruling lady of house greyjoy.   old enough to remember his mothers laughter, the shine of her hair, the kindness of her eyes… vickon knew he would never warm to the lady myria, but he promised he would never allow his personal feelings to hurt his fathers happiness. it seemed too soon that children, his half siblings, began to join their family and vickon felt all the more out of place. he was older, and he could not bond in a paternal way with her. if anything, he viewed lady myria greyjoy as not his new mother but as his over-lady and he respected her for that reason. she also seemed to bring lightness back to his fathers heart so he could not bring himself to make waves within pyke. instead of bonding with the new blended family he pushed himself out to sea on the iron fleet.

young and eager and harder than the rock of the iron isles, vickon was deemed a quiet fire; jokes and jests were made about his similarity to his namesake who was apparently stern-faced as well. he found himself in plenty of fights, plenty of games of dice and card and chance, and he worked until his hands were hard with callouses and his clothes were crusty with dried seasalt. vickon, he soon realized, was born for hard work and challenge which continued to please his father greatly as his son stayed on track to be a captain in the iron isles’ fleet. a few years on vickon was to choose a bride, and he deferred to his father over a private meal and ale about who this should be. they scrutinised over the eligible ladies of the iron isles, and who would be the most ideal partner and lady reaper of pyke when vickon would inherit the seat, for he would marry no one else than an ironborn woman. vickon often thought that he was arguably one of the most devout followers of the drowned god of all his siblings, he prayed often and fervently. thanking the drowned god for the good, praying for bad to end quickly, praying that his lady mother was enjoying her seat in the drowned gods watery halls, approving of her only sons achievements. settling on house kenning of harlaw isle, with the blazon of the storm god (the drowned gods enemy of over a thousand thousand years), was an unlikely choice in the eyes of many. however, the lady naoka kenning caught his eye quickly and soon conversation revealed how similar they were. she matched him in intelligence, in quick wit and jokes, in the cracking of her tongue like a whip when she commanded her accompanying house kenning guardsmen to stop making drunken fools of themselves. born less than a year apart in age, now capable captain and heir to pyke, lord vickon ii greyjoy and lady naoka of house kenning were married in the year 492AC.

as a wedding gift, balon and lady myria gifted vickon and his new bride the galleon ship the storms howl, one that had pride of place in the iron fleets arrangement. though vickon had spent most of his time upon the iron fleets’ principle ship, a man-o-war vessel sea death, the storms howl served as a temporary home as the newlyweds spent their time on the seas, travelling with a youthful hunger. the early years were good, and would have continued to be fruitful if not for a freak, sudden accident that stole another woman from the vickons heart. down the gangway of the storms howl, they had returned from visiting naoka’s family upon harlaw isle, they and their crew were enjoying the end of their voyage. no one properly saw how she lost her footing, but a small yelp of surprise followed by a body-loud thump and vickon shoved his way through the crew members to find his young wife lifeless and limp with no breath in her body. there was no blood and no pain when she slipped on the salty, slicked wood of the pier… but she was gone from the world, from his world, in the blink of an eye. widowed far too young, damaged and angry at innocent losses of his personal life, he pushed himself instead into the career of a captain with eyes on a prize beyond the iron isles. the drowned god had set vickon adrift alone in turbulent seas, but he was determined to not flounder or sink as he reached out to the red keep of the crownlands, to the office of the heir to the iron throne, prince baelor targaryen.

over the space of a year the two corresponded formally as vickon expressed his desire to represent house targaryen as the master of ships on prince baelor’s council when he would assume the throne in the years to come, and they settled on an agreement. lord vickon would sail to the red keep and meet with the prince face to face, present his reasoning why he was the superior choice for a master of ships. of course vickon knew that there was no other who could rival the ferocity of the iron fleet, and his ability to captain galleons, sloops, man-o-wars and all in between gave him a versatility hard to rival. the meeting went well, and after discovering much in common and enjoying some healthy debates about their respective gods and beliefs and personal opinions, they  found a mutual respect and a budding friendship that continued on when he returned to the seas and back to the iron isles. he had spent much time then on assignments from his father, on training up his crew and exploring, escaping his grief as best he could. at his fathers request he took on his half-siblings into his crew, where there were no free passes nor easy ways out for the children of the lord reaper and he commanded them as he did the rest of his crew.

vickon never did re-marry; instead taking the occasional salt wife or lover. he knew he had a position on the small council of westeros in his near future, alongside a man he was proud to call friend and future king and he would pass his seat to a sibling as castellan if their father would pass in that time, he had a plan with which he had spent much time working over. though it was not his father who passed in the years that came —  in the sept of ashar where the sept of baelor once stood, a strange irony upon them all as they bid their final farewells to the king who never was, baelor the third, who had suddenly been pulled from the world to join the halls of the drowned god. of course vickon knew that baelor was a follower of the seven, as most of westeros did, but vickon liked to imagine him alongside the mighty drowned god and the finest warriors and members of the world alongside him, perhaps his friend may meet lady uthora greyjoy. the sadness was felt across the lands, but none more-so than it that sept of the seven where the closest of the prince gathered privately and grieved in the painful, sorrowful echoes of the barely filled sept. he lingered in kings landing for a time alongside king maegor and princess rhaena: baelor had often spoken of his sister in letters, and part of him felt compelled to ensure that his friends kin was going to endure, however painful. no one seemed to understand what had happened to baelor or how his last moments were spent… but it appeared clear that it was not pleasant. it was on his return home, his future plans gone with his friends final breath, that his paths crossed with a woman who would change his life for the first time in many years.

protecting those weaker than him was something vickon felt to his core and thus began their relationship.  a lost soul saved by the drowned god and delivered to safety on the decks of the storms howl by pure chance and misfortune, though stripped of her apparent memories she seemed filled with the will to live and that spurred him to action. she would go on to thrive, recovering from whatever had befallen her, and he would go on to tentatively open his heart as much as he was able to as he returned with his new salt wife to the shores of his home. within the year however, his father succumbed to the afterlife and the title, the salt throne was passed to vickon ii, lord reaper of pyke. beginning his rule not years removed from his friends death and the change in leadership, the new heir of westeros becoming baelor’s younger sister and the certainty of him having a position on the council now in question, he decided it best to stay as ruler of his lands rather than leave the ironborn without their true leader. he already knew he was content in being loyal to house targaryen: the members of the red keep had all treated him well, they were all sound and intelligent of mind, with admirable and well thought-out policies and plans for the world. far removed from the red keep, with no interest in taking over the throne, he didn’t keep closely informed on the process that king maegor had organized for his only remaining child to find a suitor and when the raven arrived from kings landing penned in a scrawl it seemed from baelors younger sister who warned him that something had gone terribly wrong and the targaryen reign would be coming to an sharp end. never in his wildest dreams did he imagine what was to come: the first lannister reign in over two centuries and baelors little sister, the fierce little dragon prince rhaena had been (it appeared to vickon) forced to surrender her title to the son of lord tristifer lannnister.

vickon knew very little of the lannister children: there were two sons and one was a tenacious land commander, but that was all he knew. his late father, however, had never spoken a kind word about the grey lion of the west. he often spoke ill of any other house, degrading all other gods, cultures, mocking the ironborn and once coming to physical blows in their past. balon had hated lord tristifer lannister, and vickon was immediately suspicious and enraged at the concept that the son of such a true cunt could have stolen or bullied the throne into his own hands. however, after hearing some positive things about the new lannister king and after meeting him at the wedding of the lannister and princess rhaena he found himself less wary. not fully in support, but not in direct fear. it seemed the son of tristifer, arryk was his name, did not take after his father in the traits balon had condemned and disparaged. vickon also hoped that rhaena would reach out to house greyjoy for an ally or support if the new king revealed himself a tyrant.

returning to pyke and correspond from a distance, vickon sent his sister to represent house greyjoy at the celebration of the young prince’s birth and focussed on advancing and perfecting the iron fleet and quashing any whispers of rebellion within his waters. still flanked, oddly happily, by the woman he had rescued nearly three years prior, vickon was only moved to leave pyke with the political summit on the horizon after the schism fractured the kingdom, watching pyke shrink in the horison he knew it was time to reveal himself in the public eye as the lord reaper of the iron isles and make the true ferocity and power of the ironborn voice heard.

↳ personality.

he was already stunted by the loss of his mother at such a young age, and the secondhand experience of his sisters sadness as well. he shouldn’t have but he did carry that in his heart and this was increased when naoka suddenly died. vickons faith has always kept him strong in ways he doesn’t understand, but he takes great comfort in knowing that the drowned god would have welcomed his mother, his young wife, his father and friend into his watery halls and given them the life that was stolen. taking a salt wife has allowed him in recent years to soften himself, but his guarded heart has long been a part of him that he will not erase again. vickon is, despite his slight detachment from his half siblings and really any reminder of his lost mother, ultimately a protector and this bond is only extended to people who have truly earned it.

↳ the splitting of the kingdoms.

honestly the schism somewhat caught him by surprise, due to the amount of kingdoms who decided to revolt individually instead of collectively. he thinks some have just reason to be in such a rage, but some he thinks are acting like irrational fools begging to be quashed.

♛  STATUS; TAKEN

[sassyscientia]

An Aera Mirus Fleuret and Ardyn Lucis Caelum angsty scenario (a thought)

A scenario that popped into my mind a month ago: Aera survived the clash between the two brothers but she realized, during the slow and painful recovery, that the Gods turned their back to her.

She has been stripped of her role as an Oracle because she revealed divine choices to Somnus, because she tried to protect the Adagium.

This last thing ruined her even at the eyes of the people, nobles in particular.

They accused her to know about Ardyn’s demonic infection, she would let a deamon sits the throne just because he was her fiancé. A woman whose judgement is clouded by love cannot be a pious guide for the people.

In all this she has to deal with the loss of Ardyn, mourning him, victim of a fate that could not be changed. She tried to save him, and now he was dead.

Things were awful, but guess what?

They got worse.

Attempting to reabilitate Aera’s name the Fleuret family promised her to Somnus. After all she’s still part of a noble and rich household, one of her relatives is the new Oracle now...

Marrying Somnus to become queen and wipe away all the gossips and malignity sounded like a good plan. For them at least.

But for the party directly involved?

Aera nearly had a breakdown: she preferred to die rather than marry the man who betrayed both her and Ardyn. She refused, going in a screaming match with half of her family.

For Somnus wasn’t an ideal situation either.

What he has done that day was neccesary. Ardyn could not rule infected as he was, nor he could save the majority of his people. Still, he was his brother, a brother he loved and respected. He was jealous of him, yes, but seeing him on a bloodied floor with a sword in his chest didn’t bring Somnus any happiness.

He brought away everything from his brother... Taking Aera crossed a line Somnus wasn’t sure he wanted to cross. She was Ardyn’s spouse, he loved her more than life. In his mind, a wedding with Aera would have been kinda of... incestuous? He felt it that way.

These sentiments were soon overthrown by others more selfish and bitter: he was king, not a beggar who gathers someone’s leftovers. He didn’t want to be a sloppy second collecting what his brother has left behind (the guilt was still there, even because he hurted her. How could they made this work? It’s an announced disaster).

Personally I think Somnus wouldn’t be bothered to marry someone he doesn’t love. He is a man who cherished duty and responsability, love it’s just a thing that can be pleasant at his eyes but cannot be a distraction or, worse, an influence on important matters. Men in his position hadn’t such luxury, if a marriage is useful in terms of political leverage so be it.

The fact Aera didn’t love him (and he didn’t love her) wasn’t the first thing that came up in his mind. Ardyn was the reason of his reluctance.

Eventually, thanks to the court’s machinations, Somnus and Aera got married. That day Somnus was extremly cold (to hide his uneasiness and guilt) and Aera refused to look at him the whole function, thinking about how Somnus deprived both her and Ardyn even of this little joy. After they are pronounced man and wife Somnus asked her not too gently to kneel. Aera felt a pang of pure hatred, because Somnus wanted her to recognize his right as a king in front of everybody (since she was tied by Ardyn’s name and loyalty in being his finacée). In reality, Somnus wanted to clear her name publicly with a dimostration. He didn’t want to humiliate her, just make it sure nobody could bother her because of a connection to Ardyn. Being queen without suspects, with a recognized authority.

Maybe it was more for him than her, but it had the same effects.

Eventually Aera bent the knee and Somnus crowned her.

I don’t have precise thoughts about their married life: surely they would avoid each other since the first night. Somnus would bid her goodnight and left her in her room and he returns to his chambers. Aera would probably wreck into crying once Somnus leaves.

Aera would probably loath him to dead in the beginning: avoiding him in any way, being cold and curt in answering him when they have to stay together in public. I think in private she would refuse every attempt to hold a conversation or, sometimes, she would be so passive agressive Somnus loses all the will to talk further. When he has thought about it as an announced distaster he was right.

He would not justify his actions to Aera, because he knew she wouldn’t listen or belive him. She was caught in her own resentment, and he had no time for that. He had a reign, people who needed his guidance. If she wanted to help him okay, if not the same. Not everyone can live in the past.

All of Aera’s provocations would have fallen into a void, Somnus would never  have answered to them. He gave her space, he rarely saw her outside the meetings of the council or during official events. Aera was fine with it.

She tried to fit her new role, discovering difficulties and backstabber along the way, but surprisingly she was good at it. She became more cagey and secretive, difficult to read but still benevolent. Beign able to help others in such a different way slowly awakened her from the numbness.

However with Somnus things weren’t easy. The fact they had to generate an heir filled Aera with dread. Probably Somnus would have had lovers at this point, but he needed a child from his queen to ensure a lineage. The thought of sleeping with Somnus revolted her, it would probably takes a couple of years for her to accept. Somnus wouldn’t force her.

I firmly belive that even if they grown to respect and care for each other they’ll never develope romantic feelings. For both of them Ardyn will forever be a persistent regret with different motivations: Aera loses the love of her life, unable to stop his destiny, Somnus betrayed him and he stole the woman his brother wanted to marry, lying to her about the fact Ardyn was still alive in Angelgard. Aera suspected it, and it was confirmed by Gentiana that only the Chosen King will release him from the curse.

Aera was pregnant when she received this response, now knowing that her children, grandchildren and descendants will have live a life of sufference, slaves of the Gods and the ring of the Lucii until one day the line will end in the blood because of Ardyn.

Ardyn whose pain will continue long after her death.

I think Aera would survived not only Somnus, but even their children. Unable to suffer other losses, she would retire after the coronation of her grandchildren and died of old age.

Fast Forward in the future

After being freed Ardyn discovered, thanks to Verstael, that Aera survived to marry Somnus and becoming queen. The current royal line of Lucis their descendants.

I think ‘devastated’ would still be a weak word to describe Ardyn after the big revealing. The thought of Aera forgetting him to run into his brother’s arms hurts him beyond every comprehension. In the beginning he would probably convinced himslef that Aera has been forced in some way, that she was  forever unhappy after he was chained away.

She had to be unhappy, he couldn’t even think she smiled or laughed again.

It was all Somnus’s fault, HE was the monster, HE forced her... Aera has done nothing wrong... she didn’t know I was suffering... she didn’t know I was locked in the darkness.

During his allucinations he would saw his brother doing awful things to her, and part of him was horrified in finding relief in the convinction that Aera was nothing but miserable with Somnus.

Despite Verstael showed him evidences that after a rocky start the two lived peacefully and in some way happy, Ardyn turned a blind eye to facts until his meeting with Bahamut in Insomnia.

Then he realized how much he has fooled himself: these two traitors plotted behind his back, Aera knew about him and do nothing. They both take the throne and cast him aside.

I imagined the wheat filed scene going similar to the end of Episode Ardyn: he sees them under the tree, talking. Somnus smiling and touching the head of the newborn in Aera’s arms. She is beaming, a dress too colorful and rich for an Oracle, her hair much longer and pinned gracefully on the head. Ardyn approaches, smirking.

They both fall under his eyes. Under Aera the baby starts to cry. Ardyn moves her with his boot, staring at the bundle and its red little face. The screaming are annoying.

“You are innocent, nay?”

The baby won’t stop weeping.

Ardyn raises his foot. “ I’ll tell you something.”

Black miasma oozes from his pores. “ No one in this world is.”

He stomps the foot down with all his force.

Writing things at 3.00 Am it’s not good for me. I’ll probably fix this tomorrow, but now... bed. Sorry it’s messy...

[ombreecha]

The Uchiha’s Wife

FF.NET Fandom: Naruto Pairing: SasuSaku Rating: M Summary: She was an otherworldly being of healing. An absolute nymph of spring. He was an otherworldly being of destruction. An absolute god of war. In a world where war makes him death, and chaos she will be the life, and love his people will talk of for years to come. AU x Warring States Period.

Author Note: Ayyyyye, dooooooooooope I'm still alive. Somehow? My dudes I'm officially 27 today haha and so with this birthday I present to you chapter 19. I've been up to my eyeballs in foam, glue, and more with Katsucon being next week. I wasn't about to not keep my word though, and so here we are. I get to dip my feet deeper into ol' maidhood, and you get new content.

Anyways. . .Man I'm gonna eat some motherfuckin tiramisu to celebrate when I get back from Katsucon and it's gonna be fuckin great #inserttonythetigerhere

Until then, please get some cake or whatever the fuck ya'll like. I love celebrating with you guys even if I can't IRL until after my shoots. Fanfiction is a pretty sweet way to celebrate yisssss.

Chapter 19 The Pandemonium 

Exhausted and worn she’s fallen with her hands digging within the earth. Those scarlet locks the only thing vibrant in this state. It’s those strands that keep him connected to the present.

The oxygen she’s taking in makes it perfectly clear how much this task has drained her. The nine tails is no longer bound by the Uzumaki. They’ve seized him and taken control. 

Words linger upon his tongue never entering the air even as he watches Obito reach down and grip a hold of her arm. After everything she’s done to remove the tailed beast they’re still not done with her. There’s a part of him that feels the need to stop this—there’s something eating away at him as he watches this.



This feels wrong, but this is what Madara demands.
 All of this feels like it’s too much.

What they’re doing right now—could you possibly say this was right?

Was this what their ideals had turned into? Had they become as cruel as the Senju and Uzumaki who had painted their love in the blood of others?

Were they truly any different? Were they not one and the same using such methods?

“You know what you have to do.”

He doesn’t need to be reminded of what’s expected from him. He remembers the words scrawled upon the scroll. He knows what his part in this is. Yet, it doesn’t lessen the way this continues to dig further and further upon his moral compass.

Hesitant. Unsure. He’s of two minds. Yet, he gives that nod of his head.

The way this man drags off his teammate has him wanting to reach out—to yell for him to stop.

To extend his hand and take a hold of her. Protect her. To save her.

He won’t. He can’t. To do so would be to go against what Madara has already put into motion. The way their treating her—she’s no more than a tool.

She was a person. She held a heart. She held a purpose beyond that of a tool. She was no different from him or them.

She had a worth beyond this plan.

“Sasuke! Help me!” her hand flies out as if to reach for him before being yanked without care.

As if she is nothing more than an object.

She’s never dared to say his name without a horrific attached. No apology he gives will ever be enough for what he’s allowing them to do—for allowing this person who had stood beside him unwavering and all on her own to be used so maliciously.

And now against her own will.

The scream she produces and the desperation that echos with the night haunts him. It twists him in uncomfortable ways. Refusing to lift a finger as she tries in vain to stay only makes this feel even more disgusting—more sickening.

He can do nothing. He is not the leader of their clan. He is just an heir meant to inherit the throne.

That’s how he’ll battle the guilt—the wrongfulness of his part in this. He’ll cling to the fact he’s not in control.

Inhaling deeply and removing his eyes from her only increases the disgust before he casts his eyes upon the male who can no longer defend himself.

Step after step—each one slow and careful. Naruto Uzumaki is no longer a threat. He’s on the verge death after having lost the nine tailed beast. Madara had gotten what he had wanted. Obito had succeeded and now all that’s left was to finally be rid of the blonde.

Yes.

Madara demands this. He orders it.
He will follow his leader down this road.

He’ll further dirty his already scuffed moral compass. He’ll ignore the increasing cracks that form upon it. He’ll ignore the voices screaming within his head. 



It’s bittersweet as he watches the weak rise and fall of his chest. He’s known this boy since he could remember. Their mothers had been close friends—a war separated them but they defied refusing to lessen their bond. It was overlooked and it was ignored all because she was a direct heir.



Whispers had filled the funeral when she had passed. —they had mocked and made claims no child should hear.

If she hadn’t been friends with that Uzumaki maybe she’d have lived.


Maybe she wouldn’t have left her children behind.

Traitor.



His tongue slides against the roof of his mouth. The resentment from that time has lessened over the years. It has become a dull ache.

This boy hadn’t harmed his mother—no, she just happened to be on her way home from visiting them when she was murdered in the name of war. Senju and Uzumaki were one and the same to him. They stole his mother from him, and robbed him equally of his father. The days where they played in their garden were nothing now. 



Could you have called them friends? 
Naruto had chosen the Senju, and he had chosen the Uchiha.
 They knew nothing of each other now outside of the battlefield.


No. They were never friends.
Their mothers were, but they, they, were never friends.



What would his mother say if she saw him preparing to kill her bestfriend’s son? 

His throat constricts at the thought. He loved his mother far more than that. He would do whatever it took to avenge her.

He feels lost in time—if he waited here forever would this feeling die? 
Would this sudden fear that his mother will forsake him disappear?

 He won’t cry if he kills this boy his mother had doted on as a child.

He won’t regret this.


They had tried to kill each other plenty of times before this—
Never had they been so close.



This is different. This situation is real. He’s going to kill this man—he’s going to kill Naruto Uzumaki.
He’s going to kill someone his mother had cherished.

She’d understand. She’d know he was doing what was right by her brother’s decree. There would be no shame upon her face for doing what he needed to in times of war. Fingers curl around the hilt of his sword and as it clicks from its hold it’s slide is slow and steady. That floral pendent his wife had given him swaying equally as slow with such movements. 



“Sasuke-kun! Stop!”



Freezing he can’t help but follow the call of her voice—how? How had she found him deep within the chaos? The grip upon his sword becomes loose as he takes her in. She’s out of breath and followed behind.

Seeing someone so close to her makes his grip tighten once more until he can clearly see who is with her—this man had made it clear he adored his wife during the festival.



“This is war Sakura.” 



Can she see how conflicted he is in this moment? Can she see how much it’s twisting him to know he’s going to kill someone so precious to his mother? 
Can she see the way his moral compass is spinning erratically?

Does she see the disgust brewing inside for himself? Does she know he’s dying inside?



Those even steps are there and there’s no missing the wounds she’s suffered on the battlefield. They’re not serious. They’re not fatal—but there is blood, and discoloration upon her skin and that’s terrifying enough.

It’s around her throat, and so many other places.

But as terrifying as that is there is something far more frightening in this moment that he’s clinging to. Is this where her love came to a halt?

She’s stopping him. She’s keeping him from slaying the enemy. They knew each other. Naruto had said it right before her dance. He hadn’t asked. He hadn’t meddled and now it’s clear he should have. 

Had they always been close even before she became his wife?
Was he also cherished by her as well?

Naruto had gained his mother’s affection and now he would take Sakura’s from him just the same.

This. This is what hurts. This is what makes him question what he’s done to deserve his enemy taking everything from him. All of this—everything he’s ever lost—was thanks to the Senju and Uzumaki.

He loathes himself or being so weak. For playing into such thoughts—but how could he not?

He had reached out for her when he had known better. He had known not to give her any part of him. He had—he had given in to her. He had fallen for the anguish he had put her through. He had been desperate to fix all the cruel things he had done to this woman he had finally begun to see as his wife.

He rightfully deserved such things—yet the self pity in him refuses to accept that. He had lost so much already and the world was continuing to take everything from him.

He hates this blonde. Because projecting his self hatred onto him is easier to accept.

Fingers tighten around the hilt only to loosen a moment later. He wants to scream at her—she’s the one being cruel now.

How can she stand with them when she said she supported him? She’s not with him—she’s betraying him.

She is the one who’s cruel for coming into his world and lowering his guard. She’s the one who had made claims she wasn’t intending to keep in this moment.

She is the one he had desired to go further down the road of life with and now they were diverging.

He’ll loathe her too instead of overcoming his own faults—his own disgust for what he’s willingly becoming.

If it wasn’t for her he wouldn’t feel like this.

His mouth has gone dry as he tries to keep himself composed. She’s ruined him. She has completely destroyed it all. He wants to take back everything he’s ever tried to do and every attempt he had made to understand her better. He wants to take back believing she had become an Uchiha.

—as if it had been her birthright. As if she had loved him deeply.

He had never asked for a wife. He had never asked for any of this. All of it had been decided for him.

He wasn’t given a choice in any of this. Yet, he had been the one to let her in.

He wasn’t good enough for her. He wasn’t good enough for her to put him before the enemy.

The tightening of his jaw slackens and then the control he always seems to have in place breaks in two. There’s no way to stop the way his eyes flutter and the way his mouth quivers alongside his heart that drops so painfully within his being. His eyes descend from her to the dirt below only to clamp down in an effort to keep himself together.

“S-Sasuke-kun?”

Teeth dig painfully into his bottom lip as she speaks—she sounds as if she’s panicking. She has no reason to be panicking. She’s not the one being betrayed. She’s not the one being cast aside—he’s not the one abandoning her.

It’s just her pushing him away for the family that came before him.

He had wanted a family with her—he had wanted her to be he one that brought a new life into his world.

He had wanted her.

His eyes snap open and it’s here and now that he realizes he has to stop her. He had done what his leader had told him not to—there’s was no guarantee she wasn’t carrying his heir.

He would not have her rip more from him.

Hands shake. Palms sweaty. Eyes burning. Sword raised high.

She had dug her roots deep—she had squeezed through iron and pushed through stone.

He would cut them down. He had said he would not gaze upon her with these eyes so many feared.

He had been wrong.

He can barely hold his sword still—his heart is loud and the trepidation it sends throughout his body only seeks to send his mind further into the confusion and loathing that’s painted within him.

“You don’t have to do this! Sasuke-kun, please!”

That’s all she has to say to dislodge his voice from the bottom of his throat—it’s filled with petulance soaked in disquietude, “Shut up!”

The way she shrinks back before him sends his heart aching before him, “Not another word—not from you!”

“S-Sasuke-kun—This isn’t war! This is a slaughter.”

He’s seen this look upon her face before. He saw it when he murdered that medic so long ago. He saw it upon that woman’s face when she begged him to give mercy. She’s covered in terror as if he’s already run her through—

He can’t take her back—not when she’ll betray him again. If he can’t have her he’ll be damned if the Senju will.

Can she see how he’s vacillating as she protects Naruto? Can she see how much her choices have completely twisted his world?

Does she know how much he’s dying inside?

He won’t cry if he kills her. He’ll rebuild what she’s dug her roots into.
Their ideals had truly been far too different—

He’ll burn everything down.

His spring wife is daring a step closer and those fingers that had brought him comfort within their two years are raising. She’s stopped all at once with a hand on her wrist.

Yes. He’ll burn it down to the ground.

“This isn’t her betraying you.” there’s an exhaustion in those words as that male he had trusted in Konohagakure to keep his wife safe restricts her from coming closer. 



Here she is against him—not with him. Yet, this man claims otherwise.



He is a criminal without a crime. His good fortune had run out this time. There’s always a reason. There’s not always a rhyme to follow behind it. Those eyes of hers are glowing and just as equally those viridian are showing all that she intends.

She stands before him unable to compromise. That much is clear.

When he was already so hesitant and so lost in the direction his leader was taking them she does this to him. She sends him over the edge, and she casts him aside. Why should he care if the Uchiha are no better than the Senju?

Why should he care?

“Sasuke-kun.”



He’s not crying. He won’t do so in front of her again.



Those shallow breaths, and those twitches that come from her muscles. Tense cannot even begin to describe this moment between them. He’s out of time. He must make a choice, he must follow a faith, and he must cast this ache aside and move forward. Not once has she ever stood before him quiet like this, “Sasuke-kun!” 



No he’s certainly not crying.
 But he is most definitely dying. 



He’s absolutely running out of time. He’s lost in time and he’s certain this ache will never die. He’s truly a criminal. 
—and he holds all of their crimes. He is the one meant to be the example. He is the one meant to show his people where to go.

He’s choosing his leader. He’s choosing what he knows is wrong.

He’ll choose anything that’ll hurt her the way she’s hurting him right now.



She’s never turned against him. She’s never been one to lie. That look upon her face—the tightening of her jaw, and that gaze that bleeds through the night—she’s always been honest and she’s always held her heart upon her sleeve.

It’s the joining of two people. A union. A marriage.



He can question it all, and yet he knows he won’t find the answer of how they now stare back at each other at odds. This woman was his wife, and the one he meant to keep beside him. This woman was one he had allowed himself to trust, and the one he had wanted to bring new life into the world.



This woman.
 He trusts her.
 That’s what makes this bittersweet.



She loves him. 
 Deeply. 
She asked for his love to be just as deep.



He had agreed and allowed himself to feel such a way when he decided that the Uchiha clan was just as much her birthright.


He had trusted her. He had felt so much pride in her.

If I could bring all of that pain you hide onto myself I would do so.

He knows this battle is wrong—he knows it’s exactly what she says. This is a slaughter. There’s no denying the claim. This was no longer war. This blood bath while great and one of the largest was no battle. She was here to rein him in. She was here to make sure he didn’t falter and head down the wrong path. She was the voice that would lead him back from the chaos.

She was the voice inside his head as Karin was dragged from him.

Could he kill her? Could he kill what he had allowed her to obtain? Could he close her out as he had when they first met?

To anger and fight Madara would be to go against the Uchiha. Could he go against his leader? Could he go against his family?


Isn’t that what he is expecting of her?


A shift of his foot and the fall of his crimson from her viridian comes. He doesn’t know what the answer is. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to pick.

Would following her down this unknown road be the right choice? Would he regret not killing Naruto down the line? Would he forever harbor feelings of distrust because of what she’s doing now?

Why do you continue to follow blindly at his call?

His hand wavers and with it his sword scrapes the earth. He’s at the end of the line. Alone in his head—waiting for something divine to answer him. Drowning in silence he prays to make it through. Out on the edge as all these things echo internally.

The storm winds are blowing. His dreams are falling apart. Just like her.

He’s crying internally. Because he cannot do this—he cannot harden himself to do what he has to.

That concept of him and her. It’s blowing away.

And he hates himself for it—he places such hate upon her to make it easier to live with.



It’s that lack of time that seeks to make it clear he’s lowered himself upon the battlefield. It’s that pounding of his chest and that pain deep within his gut. This man. This Senju always catches him when he’s bewitched, and it just proves she would be his end. 



It’s her voice that makes his eyes force themselves open as the contents of his stomach cover the grown and upon his person. The gravel and stone he had set to walk upon with her has given him padding but scratched all that it could touch—

he’s here. 



The force is harsh and enough to send his head back and mind reeling. That punch has made his mind halt to two simple questions—what was he doing here, and was this ever even truly a war?



It’s the collapse of waves echoing out internally.
 Why does his heart feel like it’ll break further than just in two?



“Kisetsuma-san!”



He cannot control the roll of his head and that blur of his eyes. She’ll leave him and there’s nothing he can do. She’ll return to this man who sought her out so violently. 

He can’t protect her—he can’t protect any of them.



“It’s okay.” there’s so much warmth in Kisetsuma’s words for his wife, “We’ll take you back here and now. I’ll protect you from him.”



He feels it deep within—



“Kisetsuma-san, what are you—?”



“I won’t let the Uchiha hold you any longer. You will no longer be a prisoner of war.” 



This exchange. 
 It’s the death of a desire—



The vexation. The distress. The exasperation. The absolute loss.


It’s her choice. It’s always been her choice.



She could hate him. She said she loved him.
 She’s slipping through his fingers. This man will take her even though they—



“Kisetsuma I am not a prisoner—”



“What lies have they been feeding you all this time? These Uchiha—they’ve done everything they can to turn you against your family and friends”



—even though he’s the one she said she loved with all of her heart. He must confess that he feels like a—

“I will protect you.”



Monster.

All of that loathing, and poisonous vexation he’s placing upon everyone but himself. It’s revolting.



He’s barely aware of what he’s even doing. Everything in his world has fallen out of reach. He can’t protect her. He can’t protect the Uchiha. He can’t even protect himself. He’s lost his sword somewhere. He’s lost the ability to feel just the same. He’s lost his mother. He’s lost his father. He’s lost his brother. He’s lost his uncle. He’s lost his grandfather.

—and now he’s losing his wife and any possibility of a child. He’s losing the possibility of a family.

His heads thrown back as this Senju strikes him once again, but that doesn’t stop him from throwing his own fist right within their jaw. Dirt finds its way deep within his nails as he twists to make himself rise.

“Sasuke-kun move!” her voice is shaking, and terror-stricken as it comes within his ears.

She’s calling out to him—if he caught sight of her right now would she be in tears? Hadn’t she abandoned him already? Why is she calling out for him at all? She had chosen to protect Naruto over standing beside him.

She had chosen them over him.

He’s managed to do as she’s plead out, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s raising his hands up and lacing his fingers together before bringing it down upon this Senju’s back and preparing to raise another fist. All of these things are barbaric. All of these things aren’t strategy. They’re literally beating each other down. They’re doing everything in their power to harm the other.

She’s clouded all of his judgment with her abandonment—that’s what he tells himself when he feels that foot connect with his stomach before the ground shakes with an almost godly force. It’s enough to make them both halt and look to her.

She’s taken her arm back, and that male of silver stands beside her ready to attack, “Don’t touch my husband.” her breathing is erratic as if she’s been sent over the edge just the same.

It’s enough though to send his mind back into pandemonium. She’s claiming him. She’s making her position as his wife clear—even though she stood against him.

Even though she—

“Don’t you want to come home?”

His knees are weak but he’s pushing himself up. There’s a stagger to his stance, but he’s not backing down. There’s swelling in his left eye, but that doesn’t stop him from looking at her with his right just the same. Pressing his hand against a tree he’s steadying himself even more, “Sakura.”

“He is my home—” her voice has broke and it’s as those fingers twist within the fabric of her warn torn clothes against her chest that she finds it once again, “To hurt him is to hurt a part of me!”

He’s still and there’s the lightest of feelings within his chest—this woman saw him as home. It hadn’t just been him looking to her for that feeling of home. These words. These feelings.

They’re a lie.

He can’t trust what she says. She’ll trick him once more.

She’ll lower his defenses and then twist the knife she’s dug between his shoulder blades deeper.

How can she say these things?

Yet, here she is. Here she is making her feelings clear even to this man who had sought her out. She had said she loved him with all of her heart—and that’s what makes his mouth drop. She felt that his pain would harm her just the same. She saw him as a direct part of herself.

Is this what marriage was? A union? A joining of two?

His fingers curl into a fist and his teeth grind together—he had never asked for a wife. He had never asked for any of this—but he definitely wanted her. He wanted to keep his trust in her. He wanted to keep that unbelievable pride for her.

He wanted to have a family with this woman. He wanted to continue walking down this road with her. He wanted to travel through the gravel and stone. He wanted to come back to that world of spring she makes a possibility—yes, he wanted her.

God, does he want her.

He can’t. He won’t.

Because it’s all a lie. Everything this woman spills is for show and not out of love. If she had loved him she wouldn’t turn against him at a time like this.

Yes. She’s brought him into complete disarray.

His mind had broken out into pandemonium—and she almost sadistically continues to shove him into it further without remorse.

He can barely hear her. All he hears is noise. It’s loud. It’s hot upon his ears. It’s too much to take in. Shaky fingers hesitate to raise. Lightning flickers upon the tips. To reach for her out of comfort or in an attempt to harm her he’s unsure. He doesn’t know what he wants anymore.

She’s thoroughly split him in two. He’s of two hearts.

It all truly echos internally. 
Failure. Just like him.

He can’t find such things like that right now—she’s completely out of arms reach as his head cracks against the tree he had used for support, and his body is thrown up within the air. The instinct to defend himself is there but it doesn’t lessen the blow of being tossed across the battle field as he seeks to shield himself with his arms.

Her voice is so much further now than it ever had been—it’s masked and drowned out. He’s crying.

[screamingatanemptyroom]

Fictober18 Day 30

Original Fiction

Prompt: “do we really have to do this again?”

Erin/Gerald story Part 10! We meet the rest of Gerald’s family

“Your… parents.” Erin stared at the handsome couple before her blankly for a few moments, before giving a polite bow.

“Your Majesties.”

The woman laughed, reaching out to grab Erin’s arm and pulling her down to the seat next to her. “No need to be so formal dear, you can call me Agatha, and my husband Charles.”

“Or father-in-law.” Low muttered words were spoken by the king, Erin couldn’t quite hear it clearly.

Gerald sat on the other side of Erin, grabbing her hand and holding it as he spoke.

“Did you seriously use a royal summons as an excuse to lure Erin here to interrogate her as my new girlfriend?”

“What?” The king looked greatly offended. “Of course not! We would never do something so underhanded.”

“Never.” The queen agreed with an innocent expression.

Gerald didn’t look convinced. “So what did you want to talk to her about then?”

“About…” The older man looked around, as if searching for an answer. “…the attack of course! Can you tell us about it, dear?”

“Well…” Gerald started to respond, when before being cut off by his mother.

“We weren’t asking you… We want to hear from this lovely young lady.”

“…” Erin was slightly shocked, but didn’t feel like she could refuse. She took a deep breath and described the opening sequence of events. The king and queen listened carefully, interrupting to ask more specific questions.

“How many men were there?”

“What type of weapons?”

“What kind of man are you looking for as an ideal husband?”

“DAD!” Gerald broke in at that last question, his face turning red. The king showed an innocent expression.

“What?”

“That last one clearly wasn’t about the attack at all!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. This is an important topic regarding the safety of our country, I would never use it as an opportunity to get to know my future daughter-in-law.”

“Your what?” Erin asked.

“Anyways… back to the topic, did they identify themselves in any way?”

Erin described their words before they took their lives. Hearing the whole story the king nodded solemnly. “I see, that’s much more information than we have gotten on this group previously, you and your team’s ingenuity in capturing them alive is greatly appreciated.”

He turned to his wife. “See, I told you! She’s smart, capable, thinks quickly in critical situations… she would be a great future queen.”

“It’s definitely reassuring.” The Queen smiled at Gerald as she agreed. “At least he had the good sense to bring back someone intelligent. We could plan for a spring wedding.”

Erin broke out into a cold sweat. “Umm… Your Majesties?”

“I told you, no need to be so polite, just call us by our names.”

The king added to his wife’s words “Or just call us Mom and Dad.”

Gerald groaned and covered in face in embarrassment. Erin pushed forward awkwardly. “I don’t want you to have the wrong impression, Gerald and I are not engaged.”

“…” The couple stared at her blankly for a moment, before the Queen nodded sadly. “Oh we know dear, but we still have hope for the future.”

“Exactly!” The king agreed, “Is there anything about Gerald you really don’t like? We know he can be a bit noisy at times.”

“Doesn’t keep his room clean.”

“Has a tendency to get distracted and wander off.”

“Can talk too much.”

“Please stop!” Gerald waved his arms, cutting off his parents cheerfully listing off his faults. “Stop giving her more reasons NOT to marry me!”

They turned their attention to him. The King frowned. “Now that’s no good, my boy. She has to know what’s she getting herself into. If she knows your faults and still wants to marry you, you’ll be much happier.”

“Of course,” the Queen added, “If there’s anything that’s a true deal-breaker, Erin, let us know, we’ll do our best to fix him.”

That sounded ominous, Erin looked at them all silently for a moment, his father’s hopeful expression, his mother’s stern, determined look, and Gerald’s bright red complexion… and broke out into laughter.

Finally when she could breathe again, she spoke with a smile. “There’s no deal breaker, but I just met Gerald a few months ago. We started dating a few weeks ago. There’s no rush.”

The couple looked at each other, grinning. “So you like our son, even with all his faults?”

Erin felt her face grow warm. She avoided eye contact and suppressing the urge to run away entirely, nodded slowly.

Gerald reached over from his seat next to her, and hugged her tightly.

“Well, alright then. We won’t pressure you two to get married.” The Queen watched them happily.

“For now.” The king muttered.

Gerald let her go, his expression satisfied, and went back to holding her hand. “So, about this attack… you said that Erin had gotten more information on this group then you had previously… is this not their first attack?”

The king sighed. “No, this is not the first. Although they’ve never done something quite as big or high profile before.” He stood up, pacing back and forth. “Over the last month, several of our barracks closer to our borders have been attacked in a very similar manner. Explosives, masked men in swords, they strike quickly, and before reinforcements can arrive, they retreat. We’ve only ever captured one or two alive, and they’ve immediately taken their own lives, in a similar manner to which you’ve seen.”

“How many attacks have there been?”

“Five attacks total, six counting the larger scale attack on the welcoming ceremony.” The queen shook her head. “It’s unclear what they’re after, but I worry that they may be targeting the magical competition and its competitors, we’ll call in some of the armed forces to beef up security.”

“We’ll be stretched a little thin at the borders, but if we can’t prevent an incident from happening at this competition, it will turn into a diplomatic disaster.”

Erin and Gerald exchanged glances, worried. “Is there anything we can do to help?” Erin offered.

“We appreciate it, dear, but you and Gerald should just focus on winning the competition.”

Gerald chuckled. “Is it okay for a monarch to say something in support of another country’s competing team?”

“If I can’t support my son and future daughter-in-law, who can I support?” The king huffed with annoyance, his eyes cheerful.

 “How about your other son and future daughter-in-law?”

A confident voice called out from the room’s entrance. A young man walked forward, stopping before the group with a stiff smile. Erin studied him curiously. His features were regular, handsome, somewhat reminding her of Gerald, but there were significant differences. It seemed… off, as if the polite cheerful expression that Gerald wore so naturally was just a stiff mask instead. His eyes were sharp, moving around the room, missing nothing. His gaze met Erin’s and she felt the urge to strike out at him. Her fist clenched beside her, the hand still holding Gerald’s stiffened in place. She had a strong sense of danger from him, as if only the thinnest veneer of etiquette was preventing him from showing his true monstrous intentions.

He reminded Erin of her father.

The king smiled, but the expression wasn’t as happy as it had been a moment ago. “Richard, of course we’re cheering for you and… your fiancé as well. Even if I have two sons competing against each other, I’ll definitely cheer for both!”

Gerald shook his head. “Thanks, dad.”

“Really? You’ll treat both of us equally?” Richard’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes grew colder. “Even though I’m the heir to your throne, and Gerald is the weaker son who can’t even hold onto an engagement?”

“Richard!” The Queen stood up, her face pale. “We agreed to honor your engagement with… that girl… only because Gerald insisted he didn’t mind after she betrayed him. Flaunting the fact that you stole your brother’s fiancé is not actually working in your favor, child.”

“It’s only natural.” Richard insisted. “I’m the stronger of the two, I am destined to be king, so of course she would choose me.”

Erin glanced over at Gerald, but if anything, he looked bored at his brother’s outburst.

“Richard, do we really have to do this again?” He sighed. “I meant it when I said I hope you two would be happy together. You saved me from what would have been a very unhappy marriage, although I wish you had gone about it differently instead of betraying me behind my back.” He paused, looking over at Erin with a smile and squeezing her hand. “I’m much happier now, though, so don’t mind me and just live your life the way you want, brother.

Richard’s attention turned to Erin. His gaze made her skin crawl. “Ah yes, the new girl…” He looked her up and down, his lips curling into a sneer. “You must be very… skilled… to rope in my brother so quickly after his broken engagement. Especially as my sources say you’re currently engaged yourself. I had no idea that my brother was alright with sharing his fiancé.”

Gerald was trembling with rage, but Erin was still and calm. She smiled, and stood up, walking until she was only a few feet from him. He was not nearly as tall as his brother, and as she moved closer, he had to look up to maintain eye contact.

Staring down at him, she spoke with a perfect polite tone. “We’ve not met. I am Éirinne de Roderick.” She held up her hand. “Don’t bother telling me your name, I don’t care to remember it. Whiny children like yourself aren’t worth the mental energy.”

She smiled, stepping a little closer. He opened his mouth, clearly wanting to talk, but Erin waved a hand, a wind spell sealing the air in his lungs. His face turned purple. 

“I will correct some of the lies you spoke about, however. First, I am not engaged to anyone. Your information is incorrect. While it is true that my father is trying to force an engagement on me for his own political gain, I neither know of the man or have any intention of agreeing to it. I am also not engaged to your brother, not that it’s any of your business.”

She grinned as Richard gasped for air, a hand waving wildly as he tried to counter with his own wind magic. He must have fairly powerful magic, at least level 4, as Erin felt his power clash with her own.

Unfortunately for him as she stood up she had pulled off her restricting artifact. His wind powers simply couldn’t compare with her own.

“Now I will let you go, but I’ll do so with a warning, little boy.” She paused, making sure his attention was on her. “Do not meddle in my life or my relationships. Do not try to hurt those I love. If you do, I won’t even give you a chance to regret it.” 

With that, she waved a hand, and her spell dispersed, allowing him to pull in a lungful of air. He collapsed to the ground, gulping in large breaths, before looking up at her with rage in his eyes.

“I’ll pay you back for this.”

Erin’s smile widened, and Richard shrunk back with fear. She leaned closer and whispered softly.

“Bring it.”

He ran off, stopping only once to glare behind him before slipping out the doors.

“…” There was an awkward silence. Gerald stood up, and smiling, reached out to take the restricting artifact from her clenched hand. “May I?” He asked. Getting a nod in response, he slipped it over her head and refastened the chain.

“Thanks.”

“No, Erin, thank you.” He chuckled. “I got to see you terrify my brother and his fiancé… and we’ve only been here a few days.”

“It sounds terrible when you say it like that.”

“Only to someone who doesn’t know the situation.”

Erin turned towards the royal couple, who still sat on the couches in silence. She bowed solemnly. “I’m sorry to threaten your son.”

The king snorted. “It’s good for him. He thinks that just because he’s got a little bit of power and he’s marrying that… girl… that he’d be a good king? Hmph!” He smiled at Erin.

“No dear, we apologize that our son was so rude to you. How terrible of us to allow such a thing to happen as our guest.” He shrugged. “I guess the only answer is to give you our son’s hand in marriage to make up for it.”

“Dear…” The queen’s tone warned him. “Don’t pressure her.” Standing up, she hugged Erin tightly. “Take care of Gerald, he’s too nice for his own good sometimes.”

Erin hugged the woman back. “I will.”

With that, they said their goodbyes and headed back towards the dorms.

“So… what next?”

“Well, we have a couple of days before the first competition, so we should take that time to practice working together as a team.” She grabbed his hand as they walked, “We didn’t do too badly against the attackers today, I’d like to build on that success and really get us fighting side by side smoothly.”

“The first competition is the magical theory one right?” Gerald frowned. “Will you be okay?”

“With me and Olivia as the nominated competitors?” Erin laughed. “Just wait and see.”