#Sapphire should focus on protecting her family

[ovaldiamondring]

Sapphire Engagement Rings- A Complete Guide..!!

From goofing around with each other to planning to spend your lives together is a big decision that calls for a celebration. A celebration of your love when you will officially go down on one knee and propose to your sweetheart with a stunning diamond engagement ring. Though choosing the right ring can be daunting, seeing her smile when you propose to her will melt your heart. Moreover, when you are successful in conjuring a beautiful proposal alongside an equally beautiful ring, that moment will forever stay anchored in your memory. 

The process of choosing the perfect ring can give you all the jitters in the world. So, it is better to have all your options in line before you make the final decision. If buying a diamond ring feels too daunting, given the number of options available, you can always opt for one with gemstones. 

If your girl fancies dark colors, sapphire is one of the darkest-toned gemstones you can get her. If you are skeptical about choosing a sapphire as the gemstone for your ring. Here is a brief insight into this marvelous gemstone and a few reasons why it would work as a gemstone for your ring. 

What Is Sapphire?

Sapphire is one of the most versatile minerals belonging to the corundum family. It is said to have spiritual values and is the alleged birthstone for September's born. They symbolize wisdom, virtue, good fortune, and sanctity for royals. As an engagement ring stone, sapphires denote faithfulness and sincerity.

History of Sapphires

Sapphires have been popular since the Middle Ages. Its celestial blue color symbolizes heaven and attracts divine favor and wise judgment. Different religions have different beliefs about this gemstone. Greeks wore them for enlightenment when seeking answers from the oracle. Buddhist believe that they bring spiritual enlightenment and Hindus use it during worship. These classical violet-blue sapphires came from Kashmir, India in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Later in the 1900s, sapphires were found in Madagascar, Australia as well. 

In 1981, sapphire became a symbol of love when Prince Charles gave Lady Diana a 12-carat blue sapphire engagement ring. Since then, many couples have started opting for the sapphire as its blue hue signifies the depth of your love. 

Benefits of Sapphire Rings

They help boost metabolism

They provide mental relief and enhance mental strength

They protect from evil eyes and hexes

They improve decision-making

They soothe the senses and help gain self–control

They remove negativity and unknown fears

They give a positive financial boost

They help lessen fatigue

They improve focus and concentration

They help manage digestion better

These are some benefits of wearing sapphire rings. Following your knowledge about sapphire rings, you might have made an image in your mind of where your girl is wearing a diamond and sapphire ring, right? If yes, you should know how to care for a ring like that. So here's how: 

How To Care For Sapphire Rings?

To clean your engagement ring, all you need to do is take a small drop of washing-up liquid and gently scrub your ring with a soft, clean toothbrush. After rinsing your ring under warm water, gently scrub it again to remove any soap residue. Dry with a microfiber cloth.

For those seeking a high-quality sapphire engagement ring, we recommend visiting Michael F & Co. in New York City. The store boasts a wide selection of GIA-certified diamond engagement rings and fine jewelry, including diamond earrings, necklaces, pendants, and wedding bands. Accredited by the Better Business Bureau of New York and with over a quarter century of credibility as a trusted jewelry store, you can confidently find the perfect piece for your special occasion at Michael F & Co. of New York Diamond District.

Original Source:https://michaelfandco.blogspot.com/2023/01/sapphire-engagement-rings-complete-guide.html

[marauderssequels]

“’...her mother Andromeda was my favorite cousin,’ said Sirius, examining the tapestry closely.” (Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix)

in 1953, the second little Black girl was born. two-year-old bellatrix peered into the crib, chin already learning how to hold itself in the haughty manner her mother’s did. later, the tiny form in the cradle would learn to toddle about behind bella, following her as faithfully as her sister would ever follow voldemort.

bellatrix was her father’s daughter, and narcissa was her mother’s, but andromeda felt always caught in-between. she did not have the fair hair and dainty features of narcissa, nor the strong chin and determined build of bella. the day she stopped following bellatrix around, she learned that loyalty sometimes comes only so long as mindless obedience follows. without her little sister constantly admiring her and doing whatever she asked, bella’s proud little smile turned to a smirk whenever andromeda was near. they remained friends still for a long time after, but andromeda’s place in bella’s heart had fallen, and it would never find such high purchase again.

narcissa followed neither, imitating instead everything their mother wished her to be. andromeda could not remember a time her sister hadn’t worn gloves, mindful always of her pretty little palms. she acted out occasionally, it was true, but her fits of temper learned from her father’s stern gaze, and she became a little lady instead, spoiled and proper and everything their aristocratic family could have hoped for.

bellatrix was a leader; their father claimed he’d known it from her first wail, for even then her tone had been commanding. she led andromeda and narcissa through all matters, teaching them (though neither kindly nor patiently) how to size up one’s enemies and social prey, which families were to be associated with and which were to be ignored, who could be preyed upon and how to get away with it. narcissa practiced eagerly the subtler arts of the social games they waged against other children, while bellatrix wielded their family name as her brash blade. when that was not enough, there was always her anger, which crackled out of her like fireworks against anyone who dared challenge her. andromeda was never sure if bella meant to use her magic, or if it was like the times her own untamed magic sometimes shot out without warning.

in 1959, a little Black cousin was born. andromeda’s aunt named him sirius, and he was every bit as willful a child as bella must’ve been, once upon a time. when a screaming regulus arrived two years later, however, sirius took the mantle of brother more willingly than bella had of sister. he protected that little baby as watchfully as any two-year-old could, and andromeda loved them both.

bellatrix went marching off to school, but she did hug her sisters tightly before boarding the train. she squeezed andromeda’s hand and gave narcissa a small trinket, though she said little at the time. they watched the first of their little band ride off into a new beginning, and the two sisters went back home to tears in the night that neither would ever speak of.

bella changed, but in many ways, she stayed the same. andromeda sometimes wondered how everyone else was always so surprised by her later. the darkness in her sister had lived there forever; it blossomed, of course, but not from nowhere. she was no more unkind than she’d ever been to her sisters, not yet, but ambition was raking its iron claws through her embers and stoking up a fire.

a four-year-old sirius told andromeda she was his favorite. she laughed but hushed him, listening always for the creak of the floorboards beneath her aunt’s heels. one never knew where walburga might lurk in that ancient, miserable house.

two years later, andromeda no longer had to be left behind. she bought her school things and chose a pet and bounded up the train right behind bella.

a cold hand shot out, grabbing her wrist. a flash of black eyes, cold calculation and irritation- and then bella relaxed slightly, as though nothing had happened at all.

“we don’t sit together,” she said, releasing her grip on andromeda. she showed her sister what people she should sit with, and she was gone.

another two years passed, with bella’s attention clearly no longer so focused on her as it had been before hogwarts. but that was fine; andromeda made a few friends and learned to be a good slytherin, though already the Black name had begun to chafe up against her. narcissa joined them, and it seemed as though she became the most popular girl in her year overnight. bella had her gang of slytherins that whispered already of dark marks and vengeance, and though bella had made the invitation- several times- andromeda had no interest in joining.

eventually, bella left school and entered into the lestrange family. andromeda was the maid of honor, and for the first time in years, bella looked at her like she loved her. both knew bella did not love her husband, but for a few minutes at the reception, bella and andromeda whispered to each other at a back table, and all felt as it had been before.

sirius would be making his own trip to hogwarts before long. already, he clamored for every detail he could wring from andromeda. pranking bella and narcissa had its fun, but he loved most the stories andromeda spoke of in her letters. they’d sent her owl back and forth since he was eight, and soon, he told her, it would be his letters going to her from hogwarts.

it was her seventh year before she knew it, and a muggleborn named ted finally put the feeling she’d had as long as she could remember into sharp focus. she knew her family was wrong, but she had a reason to fight now- and she did.

1972, the last time she saw her sisters; it was the night before her wedding. the tonkses were kind people, and it was to be a muggle marriage- she’d slip smoothly into his life and his world and his family, if only her own would let it go uninterrupted. she hadn’t seen bella or narcissa since graduating hogwarts, for she’d returned to ted’s home rather than her own after that. it had been a peaceful year, and the couple had since moved out into their own flat- nothing fancy, but ted’s job was steady and her own work felt worthwhile, and they were happy. she and sirius sent their letters, and he seemed happy too, finding his own home within the gryffindors.

still, it felt like she’d been waiting to hear that crack! in the next-door park ever since she’d left. andromeda stepped out into the night and watched two figures approach, and it felt to her that no time had passed at all.

both clutched tightly the wedding invitations she’d sent them, though bella’s had clearly been through more wear. a dark ruby glittered on her ring finger, so dark it was almost black, as her knuckles whitened.

“dromeda,” narcissa breathed, as they reached her. for a moment, andromeda thought her sister would embrace her, but she remained by bella’s side.

“this is enough,” bella snapped, her harsh whisper barely an effort to be courteous of the neighbors. “this has gone on long enough- come home, andromeda.”

andromeda steeled herself- but narcissa spoke again, gentle. “I’ve spoken with Father- all will be forgotten, if you’ll only come with us. they’ve been telling people you’ve been abroad-”

“no, cissy,” andromeda said, firm. “I have not been abroad, and I am not coming ho- going back.

bella glared. those eyes could burn holes into ordinary wizards, but andromeda was not just any witch. she had seen the fury behind those black eyes and knew all too well the harsh consequences of their direction, but she stood taller than them now.

the invitation was thrust into her hand, but the bony hand seized beyond andromeda’s palm to clutch around her wrist, just as it had all those years ago. bella jerked her sister roughly forward, revealing to her and narcissa the engagement ring gleaming against her skin.

“a common sapphire?” bella laughed; it grated against andromeda’s ears. “this is what you leave us for? a pauper mudblood and his-”

“let go, bella.” controlling herself, andromeda shook off her sister.

bellatrix’s face knotted up; she did not give second chances lightly, and andromeda knew already that she would never be given a third. instead, she turned to narcissa.

of course cissy cried. cissy always cried. it was easy to get her way like that, round blue eyes filling up and that perfect little pucker- but andromeda knew her too well. that night, however, cissy did not cry as she did for their father. she simply stared, tears flowing down her cheeks as she took no notice.

too soon, bella was gripping narcissa’s arm and turning on her heel, never breaking her glare for a moment until she’d vanished into the night.

she did not tell sirius. he wrote of regulus and three wild young friends, and she spoke of the wedding he had not been allowed to attend and the baby that arrived all too soon the next may. he promised to find a way to meet little nymphadora, but she gave stern warnings against it. in the Black family, one was not allowed mistakes simply for being thirteen and foolish.

he did meet dora eventually, and loved her as easily as he’d loved regulus. she was delighted by the dark waves of hair falling around his face, and promptly changed hers to match.

he came to visit for easter holidays every year, telling his parents he was staying at hogwarts. she heard about his separation from the family when he sent an owl from a friend’s house. it stung for a moment, that he had not come to her, but it was easier to drag an unruly heir from a disgraced relative than a family like the potters. what surprised her was that they never tried; firstborn sons were not an investment that pureblood lines gave up easily. things at home must have been far more dire than he’d ever let on to her.

their uncle alphard’s death gave andromeda and sirius each a small inheritance. finally, andromeda felt that she could breathe, not having to worry about securing nymphadora’s magical education. sirius had the means to move out on his own, and he chose an apartment not far from his cousin’s.

he told andromeda in quiet words what had happened to his brother. he never spoke of regulus again after that.

she watched him and his friends join the war. she and ted couldn’t risk it, not with little dora needing them, but she checked up on sirius every week in disguise. the times were dangerous and she could no longer bring nymphadora to visit, and he used his animagus form rarely, not wanting the death eaters or the ministry to make the connection. in the short hour-long visits they snatched up, they spoke over tea of the years they would spend after the war.

it had taken their siblings from both of them. as far as blood went, they were the last real family they had to each other, and they clung to futures where sirius could take nymphadora shopping for sweets and magical trinkets.

november of 1981, remus lupin turned up at her door. the war was over and voldemort had fallen, but the headline of the paper he gave her with shaking hands told a story she could not comprehend.

the sunrises of those tea-steeped futures died that day. sirius was locked away, and nymphadora grew up with only her father’s family.

at hogwarts, dora was fed the myths and lies of the traitor sirius black and his whole death eater family. she was taught to hate every single one, and andromeda did not know how to tell the story of the cousin who had railed against them all until the day he hadn’t.

in 1974, ted called from the garden, amused by something he’d found. she squinted through the window, peering through the evening’s darkness.

and standing among the peonies, a large black dog stared back.

[dangerousconnoisseurdonut]

Underwater Gotham Kingdom Idea

Gotham is an underwater kingdom where dwell a number of different type of merpeople live and work. There are five types of merpeople; octopi, shark, whale, dolphin, and manta. The last two are of a more ruling class, while the former three are seen as less. Still, that doesn’t stop those like shark James Gordon from joining the royal guard, or Orca Alfred Pennyworth from being brought on as a companion for a young noble, manta Bruce Wayne. Martha Wayne was a dolphin and, due to an accident involving the stingers on his tail, Martha died giving birth to him. Thomas has always blamed himself as Bruce inherited his own manta tail instead of his beloved Martha’s dolphin tail. As such, Thomas threw himself into his work, neglecting Bruce.

After countless companions, Alfred Pennyworth is more than a match for rambunctious twelve-year-old Bruce Wayne, especially when Bruce gets a young guard as further protection. Jim and Alfred become fast friends with each other and Bruce, and the pair teach him a lot of different tricks when it comes to fighting. One day, Bruce is swimming around, when he notices a large group of octopi, sharks, and whales swimming together; a little unusual, and he’s curious enough to follow them. When he gets there, he finds a number of octopi, sharks, and whales all gathered together with shark Theo Galavan talking about over throwing their government! He’s about to swim away when he sees something that takes the wind out of his sails and he feels his heart break; Alfred and Jim are there, and they reveal themselves to be spies meant to learn the weaknesses of the palace.

Before Bruce can swim away, he’s caught by a shark named Zsasz who presents him to the group. Galavan is ready to kill Bruce, except that Bruce uses the venom in his tail to hurt Galavan enough to get away. He dodges all of the sharks, octopi, and whales who try to grab him, and uses many of the tricks he learned from Alfred and Jim to make it back to Gotham, but he just wasn’t fast enough and Galavan’s forces start their attack. Galavan finds Bruce and goes to kill him, but Thomas gets in the way, protecting his son. Between Thomas’ more mature venom and and Galavan’s sharp teeth, the two manage to kill each other. Bruce is pulled from the fray by Captain of the Guards, Nathaniel Barnes who takes Bruce to the throne room in one last effort to keep Gotham from falling into the Rebellions hands entirely. He charges shark soldier Harvey Bullock and dolphin sorcerer Lucius Fox with protecting Bruce as Bruce holds the crown jewel of Gotham; a beautiful star sapphire referred to as the Heart of Gotham. The three make their way out of the city and to the one place the Rebels can’t follow; the surface world..

As the three break through the surface, Lucius casts an ancient spell to give them human legs, but is reminded that none of them have ever swam with human legs and have trouble keeping afloat. Thankfully, a family are out on the water and see them, rescuing them. They are Jonathan and Martha Kent, with their twelve-year-old son, Clark, who takes an immediate liking to Bruce.

Five years pass, and Smallville High doesn’t know what to make of the ‘honourary cousins’, Clark Kent and Bruce Fox; on one hand, both boys are handsome jocks that are on the football team, on the other, both boys are huge dorks. Soon, however, they get something new to focus on as a number of new people have moved to Smallville; a new clothing store opened by a Jervis Tetch, whose fashion styles are geared more towards children, and Oswald Cobblepot, who makes very sharp suits for men and women.

Then, there are three new students attending Smallville High; the Valeska twins, Jerome and Jeremiah, and a student said to be a chem genius, Jonathan Crane. To top it off, they get three substitute teachers as well; Victor Fries takes over the science course, Ben Mackenzie takes over as coach for the football team, and Sean Pertwee takes over their history course. At one of the home games, Harvey, Martha, and Lucius are all cheering for their boys (Jonathan having died from cancer two years ago) when Harvey sees Coach Mackenzie, and recognizes his old partner, even through the illusion spell he and ‘Sean’ are wearing. He informs the coach he wants to talk to him later, at the bar he tends at. Saying that he thinks the two have a lot to talk about.

Ben/Jim: Hi Harvey; Oswald was a little surprised you recognized me through Ed’s glamour spell.

Harvey: Ed was always good with magic, almost as good as Lucius was before he gave it up for technology. But you should have remembered that I always had a knack for seeing through spells.

Jim: Yeah, I guess we forgot that. You look good though; the surface world actually agrees with you.

Harvey: It’s not too bad up here; at least up here I don’t have to worry about being stabbed in the back by my own species.

Jim: Harvey...

Harvey: Tell me, how many women and children died that day? I know old Thomas managed to take Galavan down with him; Bruce had nightmares for over a year thanks to him. Tell me, was Galavan supposed to kill him too, or were you going to do that? Nice and quick?

Jim, eyes flashing black and teeth sharpening: Alfred and I would never harm Bruce; you know we loved and doted on him! And Thomas wasn’t supposed to get hurt, but Galavan was insane and hated the Wayne’s.

Harvey: Unless you want people to notice something not right, I’d suggest you calm down. And yeah, I remember just how much you two loved that kid, and can’t help but notice you and the others came here just after the kid turned seventeen; courting age.

Jim: You know he belongs in Gotham.

Harvey: No, here’s what I know; Bruce had no friends and no family apart from Thomas in Gotham, here he has friends, and he and Clark are practically brothers. Lucius likes it up here too; says that human tech is a lot more fun to work with than magic. And finally, me and Martha are happy, we...

Jim: Martha?

Harvey:Clark’s mother? She and her husband Jonathan taught us all about the surface world after they rescued us that day. But Jonathan died two years ago from Cancer, and I looked after her; the two of us have been going steady for almost six months. And it’s because of that I’m willing to offer you, your fellow consorts, and the King of Gotham a deal; we give you the Heart of Gotham and you let the three of us remain here on the surface world.

Jim:...

[the-baschet]

#30 - Abstracted

Hidden in some distant universe that will never come to light...

Mattisaux’s war-bitten hands guided a smaller, unadulterated one to a quiet spot in the mountains. Serenity and relative peace encircled the pair, much like the dour creases of age that etched into the older Ishgardian’s countenance. There, he found a favored clearing by a lake to make their stop. He was always the type for scenery; some things just never change. Letting the tiny hand go, he slid a timeworn satchel off a shoulder. Soft clinks from the jostled items within joined the melody of the breeze sifting through neighboring flora and cloudkin singing the tune of nature, especially as he kneeled down to dig a hand through the contents.

A girl with sharp, ceruleum eyes and skin as warm, and as warmly tinted, as his watched him keenly before sauntering over to help leaf open the bag for him. Her hair swept back in a long ponytail just like his for their trip, her excuse being that it kept her vision free though she felt too embarrassed to admit her real intention. She only just saw her seventh summer when he decided to whisk her away from society for something special. A lesson, he called it. The older man peered up from his lashes to the girl, critical at first, but softened a moment later.

“There are many means to kill a man. Today, I will give you an effective one which you will use to defend yourself, should you have nothing better.”

Finding his prize, he yanked one of her hands, turned her palm up, and gently placed a dagger, curling her fingers around it with his other calloused hand. The petite weapon had a sable handle adorned with sapphires of a deep blue. Cold blue steel made its blade, glinting in the sun while it carried an anxious aura around the razor-sharp edges. “You must take care in wielding it, lest you wish to lop your very hand off.”

Then a somber breath filtered past his lips, glancing to the knife before snapping them back, straight to her matching, crystalline eyes. “I have protected you from the world for now, but I cannot stay with you forever. One day, when either you leave our home or my life comes to its bitter end, I need to have some peace of mind that you have a chance at protecting yourself.” He released her hands to roll his shirt up to his collarbone displaying a lifetime of scars that no one person should ever have. Claw markings, stab wounds, punctures of bites from creatures that eclipsed him. His will to live must have been impressive or the higher powers wished him to live and suffer through the consequences of his actions.

This was hardly the first time she saw him topless but being forced to intentionally stare at the torn leather of his skin lifted her inner brows in concern and confusion. “What are you doing...?”As perturbed as she was, her curiosity lifted her nails to run across the grooves of his ribs and wounds of days past. One recovered gash nestled deep between a pair of ribs to which she prodded curiously for his reaction. “How did you get this one?”

“Should you still remember that question, I might tell you when you are older. For now, focus on shoving that-” He pointed to her new present, ignoring her small nudges. “Right where your finger is. I only lived by the grace of The Spinner, perhaps, as I was left incapacitated for a while and the other chose not to finish me off. However, in most cases, this sort of wound would kill people. Now, do not make that face. No one should come this close to you unless they wish to hurt you or they are your family, and even then, I would remain cautious. If you ever feel threatened, you sink that right here.” He grabbed her hand again and tapped her fingers to various targets over his chest to make his point clear. “Now can you do that? Can I trust that you have enough strength for that? For me?”

The young lass stared at him for a while, plainly apprehensive but not terribly surprised despite her age. Mattisaux was, is, and forever will be rough around the edges, even to children, and she was used to it by now. So, eventually, she came back from her thoughts and gave him a curt nod, to which he was satisfied enough to ease his shoulders.

“Good. You will be even more effective in defending yourself should you channel your aether to it. That is what the sapphire is for, among one other reason. You are better at casting magic than I am so I trust you will have no issue.”

A small groan tickled her throat once she peered down from his fierce gaze to the stinging blade. Her nervousness nearly palpitated through the air with something so lethal in her immature hands; the thought of using it on another person felt... nauseating. “I pray I will never have to use this...” She dared to peek back at him just to flee to the dagger. Quietly, she murmured almost if whispering to her gift were he not so close. “I wonder if Mother ever used this before...”

For the briefest of moments, Mattisaux’s face contorted in a strange umbrage, one which he needed an immediate distraction from. An innate urge to snap at her bubbled in his stomach but he managed to choke it down. She was his daughter, after all. “Rather than wasting energy worrying over something silly, worry about using that on the buck we will catch. I will teach you how to butcher and skin with your dagger this sun so prepare yourself. Now, come.”

[june-louise]

A rarity of a moment

Fan fiction about Elizabeth and Philip from The Crown (set sometime after 1x06), just because I ship them and felt the urge to write a little something for the first time in years. 

....

Elizabeth gave a small sigh as she picked up the speech she was supposed to give in a few hours. She hoped the changes she instructed had been added to the notes and as she read through the appropriate and well induced sentences about the opening of the children’s centre in Nottingham, she smiled to herself as she discovered that this time the speech actually felt quite good. Perhaps it had something to do with the passionate and driven men and women who has initiated this important installation, she pondered as her eyes flickered through the speech. Her fingers played with the pearls around her neck as she memorised the words best she could even though her eyes were quite tired after hours of paperwork already. The last couple of months had been a whirlwind of work and there had been little time to reflect on the life-changing turn her whole life had taken when becoming the Queen of England. One day at a time, tackling one task at a time had been made her epigraph.

A knock on the wooden door disturbed her focus and Michael apologetically joined her temporary office. “Sorry to disturb, your Majesty.”

Elizabeth briefly looked up. “What is it, Michael?”

Her private secretary uncomfortably cleared his throat. “It’s the Duke, ma’am.” His words made Elizabeth abandon the speech and lift her gaze to the man approaching her desk.  “Apparently his Royal Highness and Mr Avison Parker has been in a small car accident. No major injuries reportedly, but-” he paused and nervously studied her reaction. Elizabeth lifted her eyebrow, her lips tight as she gave him her full concentration, the icy blue in her eyes giving way to no emotion. She had become some expert of concealing her true feelings. Michael continued, “caution has been made and they are both with the doctor. It seems as if Mr Avison Parker has injured his arm and ribcage, while His Royal Highness luckily escaped any injuries. Unfortunately, the press has taken notice, but we are working on it, ma’am, so it will hopefully not make it into tomorrow’s papers.”

Elizabeth tightened her jaw. “I see,” she began and stood from the chair by the desk, straightening her skirt before walking toward the window. Rain smattered against the glass, the wind strong outside.

“We have arranged for a phone call, ma’am.” Michael gestured to the phone placed next to the abandoned notes on the desk.

Elizabeth felt her arms tighten, taking a deep breath as she contained her emotions. “Yes, of course.” She walked up to the desk yet again and paused when reaching for the phone. “Thank you, Michael.” The man gave a nod before leaving the room, carefully closing the doors behind him, off to make sure the issue was being handled properly.

She took a deep breath before lifting the phone to her ear. “Yes,” she said with the voice of a true aristocrat.

“Elizabeth,” her husband carefully started on the other end of the phone, his voice sounding quite small. “I am sorry. I am fine.”

“So I hear.”

“We were just driving, and some idiot had placed a bicycle in the middle of the road. Mike made sure I was protected and pretty much took the whole hit himself, poor boy.”

She let him talk for a few more moments, his excuses not moving her in the slightest. “Elizabeth?” Philip tried after a while when noticing that she had yet to say another word. “You still there?”

“Had you been drinking,” she suddenly blurted out, voice annoyed and accusing. When there was no immediate respond, she continued. “Of course you had. What were you thinking? Have you any idea to what extent this could cause a scandal,” she spat, her voice harsh and menacing. “They already hate us and are just waiting for us to make a mistake. We cannot afford to make mistakes, Philip.”

“I know,” he got out before she continued, interrupting his apologies, once again letting him know that she was Queen and he was not.

“You really should know better. Do you even think about your children and what your reckless behaviour could lead to, them not growing up with a father.” She knew she was crossing a line and was acting quite mean, but she could not stop herself, the anger consuming her entire being. Did he not understand what pressure she already was under, what scrutiny their lives were doomed to hold? She refused to let him or anyone else, let alone Mike, jeopardize the monarchy or their family like this.  

Philip took his opportunity to interrupt when she paused to breathe, letting her know his hurt feelings. “I told you I was sorry. And quite frankly, I was hoping you at least be happy I was not hurt. But guess I was hoping for too much from my wife.”  He spoke the last word with an irritated and hurt spat and continued. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I shall speak to the doctor. See you when you get home.”

Before she could reply he had ended their call and Elizabeth was left standing with the silent phone held to her ear. She felt a sting of hurt but quickly brushed it off, composing herself and putting the phone down while returning to her seat by the desk and the speech. She was queen after all, and composure was her expertise.

 ….

 While the rain smattered onto the umbrella being held over her head, Elizabeth curled her lips into a content smile as she welcomed the applause from the crowd in front of her. As true Englishmen, no one seemed too bothered by the weather as they clapped while the rainfall caused their coats and hats to turn into a darker shade of grey and black. It was in these moments she felt proud of her country and seeing all these people gathered, not only to meet and listen to her, but to celebrate the hard work of this fine children’s centre the whole community had helped create in a common belief and hope of the future.

Making her way down the stage, ushered through the crowd stopping every once in a while to shake hands and be introduced to left and right, thanked and cheered she kept her head high and her smile as bright as she could. These people deserved it, they deserved to be seen by their sovereign.

“Thank you for coming, your Majesty,” they said with a bow or a curtsey.

As she made her way closer to the awaiting car, Elizabeth’s eyes caught onto a blonde woman who seemed to be her own age. She approached the woman who gave her a kind smile.

“Hello,” Elizabeth said in her most charming voice.

The blonde woman made curtsey respectfully before speaking, her voice revealing a gentleness which made the queen soften. “It’s an honour to meet you, your Majesty.”

“Likewise,” Elizabeth smiled, with a hint of uncomfortableness as she shook the woman’s dainty hand.

“If I may, ma’am,” the blonde carefully started with obvious shyness yet determination. “I would like to tell you that I have always admired you so. We are the same age, you see, and I married my husband the same year as your Royal wedding. I was so proud to be his wife.” The woman beamed, and Elizabeth could not help but reciprocate the gesture.

“Thank you,” Elizabeth replied, and not sure what to say but wanting to give the kind woman something, she continued. “Congratulations then on your 6th anniversary this year.”

The woman’s hazel eyes saddened for a moment but then lit up again while she spoke. “Sadly, I lost my husband a year ago. But I am always reminded of him, and all our happy times, whenever I see you, your Majesty, and your husband. Thank you for reminding me of him, and for giving us all such joy.”

For a quick moment Elizabeth let an insecure and vulnerable look escape her strong façade, and she gave a sad smile. “I am so sorry.”

“Don’t be, ma’am. We had good years, and we have a little boy who looks just like his father.” There was something angelic over the woman’s face and Elizabeth envied her joy, at the same time as she pitied her painful loss.

Taking her hand into her gloved one yet again, Elizabeth gave it a light press before letting go and being ushered into the car. As the car drove away, she made one last wave to the people, and watched the blonde woman through the back window. It was rare that she met with strangers like this anymore, she thought and pondered about the small conversation she had just had.  

….

An hour later Elizabeth was all dressed up in a sapphire dress, as she joined a dinner held at the city hall. She tried her best to keep her appearance, as she always must, but felt her thoughts more than once drift back to the woman she had met and the words she had spoken about her husband. Elizabeth felt a sting of guilt for having her husband safe and sound, while this obviously wonderful woman had lost hers. Yet the woman had had such a grateful and positive way of being, while Elizabeth acted cold and dismissive toward her husband.

She and Philip for sure had had their problems since her entering the throne, but lately it all seemed to have become worse. They barely saw each other, and when they did it was often during formalities or in argument over something. She could not remember the last time they had shared an evening together, or even yet shared bed. It was all so complicated, living a married life in Buckingham palace.

She made a deep sigh of relief as the dinner finally ended and localised Michael where he stood by the corner of the ballroom. “I want to go home, Michael. Please arrange for me to go home as soon as possible.” Her words came as a bit of a surprise to her, the spontaneity to have made such a drastic decision before she even had come to understand why she felt such an urge to return home at this late hour being somewhat unusual.

Michael, if feeling the same surprise, hid it well and simply nodded and made his way to make the arrangements while the queen paid the respects and thanked everyone for the warm welcome and the wonderful dinner, ever the daunting queen.

….

The familiar smell of portraits and perfectly polished carpets filled her nose as she climbed the stairs to her private quarters. She had dismissed her maid, making sure everyone leave her and Philip alone for the night.

Closing the dark wooden doors behind her, she let out a shaky breath and stepped out of her shoes as to not make any noise to wake Philip who was asleep since a few hours already. The clock on the wall let her know it was a good few hours past midnight. Philip’s door to their adjoining hall was open and she quietly stepped into his bedroom. It was embedded in darkness except from the moon sweeping a dim light through the window curtains.

Philip was sound asleep she heard, his soft breathing being the only noise filling the room. He had never been a snorer, even after nights out drinking, and she was reminded of how long it had been since she has listened to him sleep. She carefully stepped closer to his bed, cautious not to make the old wooden floor creak.

It was not like her to give into this urge to see him, lately she did not even know if she had felt this urge. Yet now it was there. Something about the woman losing her husband and speaking of their happy years, reminded her of her own affection to Philip. An affection which was always there, even though she had not let it bother her lately. Now though, it felt as if it consumed her.

Philip, her Philip, in his navy blue pyjamas never looked more sweet. The way he was so still and quiet reminded her of happier times. Of years lost to duty and sacrifice.  

She felt her throat thicken, swallowed and as not to wake him up she quietly made her way back to her own bedroom.

Undressing from the dress she had insisted to keep on in order to save time, she got rid of her stockings and undergarments. She lifted the white nightgown over her head and removed the jewellery, wanting to get rid of all the things Elizabeth the queen had to wear.

She made her way to her dressing table to remove her makeup. While moving her fingers over her face in the well-practiced routine, her eyes are caught on the one jewel that she had kept on, glimmering in the mirror. Her engagement ring. She never takes it off, even after all these years and even after all the fights. It is her most beloved possession. It represents who she was when she was someone to fall in love with, to choose this life with despite all of the sacrifices. She needs to remind herself of that girl, Lilibet, because sometimes she seems so far away these days.

As she sees a glimpse of that girl in the mirror, hot tears form in her eyes, and she closes them shut while gently tugging at the ring on her finger. A single tear find itself down the alabaster skin of her cheek. The words from before tug at her heart. “I married my husband the same year as your Royal wedding. I was so proud to be his wife.”

An urge to go to her husband fill her entire body and she rises, wiping her tear and dabbing at her eyes before abandoning her room to again open the adjoining doors. She pushes her pride aside and open the doors to Philip’s room for the second time that night.

Greeted by darkness, she must wait for a few moments before her eyes get used to the surroundings and she can see the form of her husband on the bed. She can hear his soft breathing and walks close, stepping out of her slippers and carefully sit on the bed, bringing her legs up under her. Philip does not move so she gently lift her hand to brush against his where is rests on top of the covers. She has always adored his strong body and been a victim under his touch. As her fingers dance over his hand, up over his arm and back again, Philip moves and rolls onto his side, burying his head deeper into the pillow. He looks so innocent when he sleeps, she thinks and tries to remember the last time she studied him like this. She cannot remember. She has missed it. To be near him like this. They seldom sleep in the same bed anymore. Most nights she does not think much about it, but every once in a while, when she goes to bed without him, when he is god knows where out with Mike, a sadness lingers over her. She does miss her husband, and the days where they would share bed every night.  

“I am always reminded of him, and all our happy times, whenever I see you, your Majesty, and your husband.”

The thought of losing the man sound asleep beside her, makes her heart ache. Not only the accident which could have been far worse, but the fact that her position as queen has sent Philip away from her to a place where he is happier without her causes the wetness to return to her eyes. Lifting the covers, Elizabeth carefully slips underneath, and curls close to the only person in the world her heart belongs to and has ever belonged to. Her forehead rest against his and she clings her hand to his, bringing it to her lips and pressing a tender kiss against the soft skin. The action causes Philip to stir and as he wakens, he opens his eyes, confused at first.

“Elizabeth,” he murmurs in question and blinks the sleep from his eyes. Blue eyes meet each other there in the bedroom, for the first time in very long. “Why aren’t you in Nottingham?”

She swallows and shifts on the bed, her gaze falling on his entangled hand in hers. She watches his fingers intertwine with hers and feel him shift slightly so that his other arm moves around her body, gently pulling her against him so that he lays on his back and she is rolled against him on her side. Feeling her throat thicken again and the hotness burn behind her eyes, Elizabeth cannot make a sound in fear of bursting into tears. “I’m sorry,” she finally mouths in a whisper and release a shaky breath while lifting her gaze to meet his.

She is met by a rare gentleness in his eyes and she feels more vulnerable than she has felt in a long time. She cannot make herself say the words but hope her eyes can signal her apology. Philip, too, is a proud man and their communication is seldom made with many words. Yet she feels as if she should say something, anything, to make him understand the way she feels. Her lip suddenly quivers, and she curses her inability to control her emotions. “I miss you,” she releases and gives into the sob that bangs at her chest for release. Her vision gets blurry and she finds herself embraced into the warmth and comfort of her Philip, strong arms wrapping around her and soft lips pressing a kiss to her head as she rests her face into the crook of his neck. She is filled with his scent and with every shaky inhale it fills her up with a calmness and comfort she has not given herself permission to need lately.

“I miss you, too, my Lilibet,” Philip whispers into her hair.

[wa-royal-tea]

Sapphire Court, Brindleton (6:00pm)

Emery: Belle? I’ve prepared some tea and biscuits in the dining room. It’s not much since you came without notice.

Belle: Thank you, Em. You're too kind.

Belle: How've you been? The last time we saw each other was the Winchester costume ball over a year ago.

Emery: I’m doing fine. Just a little bit busy nowadays with you know...parenting?

Belle: I can imagine. You weren't kidding when you said she takes after her mother. I was convinced it was a younger version of her...but she has your eyes.

Emery: Yeah, she’s got everything from her mum except for the eyes.

Belle: Clearly.

Emery: What brought you here?

Belle: A car.

Emery: Very funny. But seriously. Why are you here? I thought your work here is done after yesterday?

Belle: Sofia told me that you tried to convince her to take Ginny back.

Emery: She told you that?

Belle: Of course she did. She was worried for you and Ginny.

Belle: Em, Ginny is your daughter. Not Sofia’s. Why do you want her to raise Ginny?

Emery: You won’t understand.

Belle: Try me.

Emery: I don’t think you'll understand why. You’re not a parent.

Belle: I might not be a mother myself, but I have godchildren and plenty of younger cousins, a niece and a nephew on the way that I know when something is wrong. I have an honors degree in psychology and a Masters in social work. Understanding how people work is my job.

Emery: Well you’ve never had your own child dying in your hands, now do you?

Belle: Children are more resilient than you give them credit for, Emery - Ginny is fine, a picture of health. You made one mistake—

Emery: Then you tell me, Belle. What kind of parent forgets something as crucial as their own child’s allergy? Ginny could’ve died because of my stupidity! Her mother died because of me, and now, she almost died, because of me.

Belle:...do you still blame yourself over what happened to Irene?

Emery: Yes, because it’s true! I failed to protect her. I failed to fulfill my promises to her. And now, I fear Ginny will go through the same thing she did. I don’t want that for her!

Belle: Emery, you are not at fault for her death. Nobody is. It was just her time, as heartbreaking as that is.

Emery:...

Belle: I can’t tell you to stop blaming yourself. If that worked, we wouldn't be here right now. All I can ask is that you start making peace with her death. It's been seven years. What's done is done. The only thing you can do now is focus on your present. You have Ginny to think about now, and she needs her father. You can keep grieving for Irene, but you can’t forget the last gift she left you; your daughter.

Emery: I’m scared, Belle. What if she got hurt again? Eleanor has threatened to take her away from me and I’m afraid with the way things are going right now, she’s going to get Ginny’s custody.

Belle: You're joking.

Emery: I wish. She asked me to see her a month ago. She said Irene wrote her a will before she died. She claimed that Irene wants her to take Ginny away if anything happened to her.

Belle: Irene wouldn't have done that. She trusted you implicitly.

Emery: I know. I called her out on that but she insisted that Irene’s will was real.

Belle: What else did you say to her?

Emery: I told her not to show up in front of me or Ginny again, and I left.

Belle: Let's say the will is real. What are the next steps? Are you going to just let her take Ginny away?

Emery: What? Of course not! I don’t trust her. Never will.

*doorbell rings*

Belle:...you should get that.

Emery: Give me a minute.

Emery: Yes? Can I help you?

Taylor: Hello, I’m Taylor Kingsley from Kingsley Family Law. I will be representing Eleanor Young. My client has filed a petition to change Genevieve Frederick’s custody to her and here are the papers you will need to fill in and respond to. We will contact you in a few days for your response. Have a good day, sir.

Belle: Is that...

Emery: That bitch. She actually did it!

Belle: Calm down, Emery. Let's not get ahead of ourselves. We can’t let her get to us.

Emery: I think she already did. I need to call my lawyer.

@carmichealroyals​

Previous | Beginning | Next

[midnights-light]

Ladybug and the Hound

So before I begin I need to say a few things

This is my first attempt at writing a fanfic so it’s most likely going to suck and all that jazz

I do not own any characters in the DC or Miraculous universes (if i did everything would make little to no sense so yeah)

Can we all agree that  @ozmav is an amazing writer?

If you don’t like Daminette, don’t read it’s that simple

I am also going to use “Dogs are a Ladybug’s best friend” by @kelelamentia for some inspiration on this cuz I love that idea

All characters are going to be OOC so just be prepared

If ya’ll like it I might write more just let me know if I should write more or if I should never think about writing again (I have low self-esteem so if it look like I am hating on myself it’s because I am but I’ll get over someday but if you criticize me please at least try to be constructive criticism)

Now onto the terrible thing I decided needed to exist

LB-Ladybug

CN- Chat Noir

M-Marinette

Di-Dick

D-Damian

B-Bruce

T-Tim

J-Jason

A-Alfred

The Meeting

It was a normal Tuesday, ya know? Birds are singing, the sun is shining, the Eiffel Tower collapsed, ya know the usual. Well usual for Parisians who had to deal with this for 4 almost 5 years now but for those who just wanted a vacation like the Waynes... well let’s just say they were unprepared to see the Eiffel Tower come crashing down just a few blocks ahead of them as they were walking to get some pastries from Tom and Sabine Boulangerie patisserie for a afternoon snack and to walk Titus (they brought Titus because Damian refused to leave him alone in the mansion for two weeks while they are on vacation so Bruce reluctantly agreed to bring him with them). So them being them ran towards the fallen tower and see a few people dead and some injured. They help the injured, but just as they are about to get the remaining few out of the wreckage a girl in a clearly ladybug themed suit comes crashing to the ground creating a few cracks to form on the ground. She gets up with a groan just as a dog in a fox themed costume came running up to her and helps her steady herself. “Thanks, Hound.” says the spotted girl and as the batfam are about to check if she’s okay a... IS THAT A GIANT BABY?! Well the giant baby comes walking towards the girl and the dog when a voice shouts “If you go on a date with me Ladybug I will come help you just accept your feelings for me already!” 

Damian's POV

As soon as the spotted girl heard that she looked towards the owner of the voice and low and behold it’s a guy in a leather cat suit and on the outside I look indifferent to what is happening but on the inside the only thing I can think is ‘What is going on in this city!’ because I was just expecting a boring two weeks of ‘required’ vacation in the ‘city of love’ I hate the nickname of the city because as Father has shown love is a weakness. But apparently the city of love is not as boring as I thought it would be. The girl (ladybug I think is her name) now has a look of murder in her eyes and the dog (hound is what she called him) growled at him as ladybug said “Chat, you can’t be serious! You just caused the Eiffel Tower to fall and kill and injure people!” CN-“Yes because you can’t realize that we are meant to be together!” LB-”No we are not now either help or shut up so I can focus on gigantitan!” CN-”Fine then i’ll just sit here and enjoy the show” That one interaction makes me question if this is how it is everything something like this happens.

*Time skip because i can’t write smart plans or fight scenes*

Dick’s POV

After ladybug got his watch thing off his wrist she and hound tore it apart which released a black butterfly and the giant baby was now back to a normal sized baby. WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?1 I’M SO CONFUSED! After I stopped questioning reality I realized that ladybug was comforting the kid (HE COULDN’T BE OLDER THAN 4 YEARS OLD!) she picked him up and was about to throw her spotted thing up in the air for some reason but was interrupted by the cat boy saying ‘Pound it!’ and acting like he actually helped her and didn’t just sit there on a roof watching ladybug and hound do everything. What the heck? Ladybug walks over to me and asked if I could hold the kid for a sec and I said sure because she looks ready to murder. After she hands me the kid she walks over to cat boy and started yelling at him about how he can’t just be reckless like that but it seemed to just go over his head as he replied saying something about how she owed hit to him to date him but I quickly stopped listening when the kid started crying because of all the yelling going on so I started to talk and play with him to cheer him up until he pointed to ladybug as she yelled miraculous ladybug and tossed the spotted object into the sky. I was confused about what she was doing until I saw a swarm of ladybugs appear and start fixing the damage, healing the injured, and even bringing people back to life. Then she came back over and was about to ask something but then a shrill beeping noise came from her earrings causing her to ask if we could watch over the kid until his mom came and picked him up. Titus and Hound were playing until she called him over to her and then they jumped, yes JUMPED, up to the roof and left. “What the hell was all that and does anyone else want to kill a cat boy?”

Tim’s POV

“So that all really happened, huh? It wasn’t really just a coffee dream?” I say and then look at everyone else has a different reactions to what just happened: Jason is looking at where dead bodies had been but now they were alive, Bruce is trying to understand what just happened, Alfred looks concerned, Dick is keeping the kid happy, and Damian is trying to keep Titus from running after Hound. I notice other civilians just walking around like nothing just happened and I’m just thinking ‘How long has this been happening and how have we not noticed? WHAT IS LIFE!?’

Jason’s POV

I look at everybody that was dead just walk away like nothing happened and I am about to ask Bruce if he know what that was when I feel someone bump into me. I turn around to see a girl around Damian’s age on the ground picking up the stuff she dropped while rapidly apologizing while a dog, presumably hers, was sniffing her making sure she was ok and had what looked like a glare on his face when he looked at me. M-“I’m so so sorry Monsieur! I wasn’t looking where I was going.” J-”It’s alright little lady, but if you don’t mind me asking, what’s the rush?” M- “Well you see I’m supposed to be helping in my parents bakery after I finished walking Captain but we got caught up in the akuma attack so I’m running a bit late. My names Marinette by the way. I don’t think I’ve seen you before are you visiting?” What’s an akuma? I’ll file that away for later for replacement to look at but for now. J- ”Yeah we are here for a family vacation to take a break from work. Would you mind if me and my family follow you to your parent’s bakery? We were heading to one for a snack but it seems we got turned around during the attack.” M- “Sure just tell me your names first so I at least know you to some degree cause I’m not supposed to talk to people I don’t know. I hate life but I’m not ready to die just yet.” She laughs and I swear it feels like the world just got a whole lot brighter, J- “Of course where are my manners name’s Jason. I have a feeling my family is going to love you and your dog.” I say as I hold my hand out for Captain to sniff and after he does he stops giving me what I swear looks like a glare but he’s still standing near Marinette when I notice my family looking at me and Marinette and Alfred asks me, A- “Master Jason are you going to introduce us to the young miss?” J- “Oh right, guys this is Marinette, Marinette this is Alfred he’s our butler/ grandpa, the one who looks like he’s about to pass out is Tim, the one playing with the kid is Dick, the stern one is Bruce, and the  one with the dog is Damian.” I say.

Damian’s POV

I hear Todd talking to someone and introducing us and as soon as I turn to glare at Todd I see the most beautiful eyes in the whole world. they look like sapphires and her hair is like the midnight sky. She looks like an Angel... wait WHAT!?  I only zone back in as soon as Todd told the Angel my name so I did what not even I  was expecting, I took her hand, gave the back of it a kiss and said, D- “Nice to meet you Angel.” I was not smiling when I saw her blush and I for certain do not want to make her blush again... but if I have a chance to then I will take it. Then I hear a low growl and I then notice that she has a dog (yes she loves animals to!) that is looking at me like he’s going to rip me to shreds and I will forever deny that I was a little scared. M- “Sorry Damian, Captain’s just a little protective of me and doesn’t like strangers being around me.” D-”I understand.” I say then I hold out my hand for her dog (Captain I think it was) to sniff and after he does he still growls at me but doesn’t look ready to tear me to pieces so progress towards getting to know the Angel before me. And then my good mood is ruined by the sound of my idiot brothers and father, the traitor, snickering behind us. I turn and scowl at them but they don’t seem to care. Meanwhile Titus and Captain appear to have met and are now chasing each other around making me and the Angel laugh. Her laughter sounds amazing and her smile makes it feel like the world brightens up just a little. M- “So shall we start walking to the bakery?” A chorus of yes comes from my family and then we start walking. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

BONUS

*Whispering* J- “Am I going crazy or did Demon Spawn just laugh and smile at Marinette?”

Di- “No I heard it to *gasp* do you think he has a crush?”

J- “Are we sure he’s capable of having a crush?”

T- “Well I’m sure she will be good for him, but what I’m confused about is how she doesn’t recognize who we are. I mean how does she not know us she didn’t even seem to recognize our faces.

A- “I think Miss Marinette will do Master Damian some good.”

And Bruce is just looking at his youngest son with pride. His first crush and he’s able to witness it.

So as I said in the beginning this is my first fanfic and It’s most likely terrible so let me know if I should never write again, if you want another chapter, or if I should just reevaluate my life choices.

Chapter 2

[rainiswriting]

I don't know if anyone did this black Butler au before and if anyone did I'll like to read or maybe I'll write some au's like this:

1. The blond kid from the twins memory didn't die and become sacrifice first, r!ciel fearing the same thing will happen to his brother accidentally called a demon and make a deal with the demon.

O!ciel is still alive and try to talk r!ciel out of it but r!ciel is determine so o!ciel and r!ciel maybe makes a deal with Sebastian? Idk I'm still working on it

2. Undertaker and r!ciel convinced everyone that Sebastian manipulate o!ciel and is planning to kill him later on (undertaker and r!ciel don't like the thoughts of o!ciel making a deal with a demon) and forcefully take off his eyepatch revealing the mark but both undertaker and r!ciel said that Sebastian is part of the cult that killed him and o!ciel eye is prove Sebastian manipulate him.

O!ciel order Sebastian to run and hide through their bond and r!ciel kept o!ciel in their mansion to protect him (I really want to write the part in chap 152 but this time all the midford family is there to talk to the twins and witness o!ciel eye)

3. R!ciel is able to run away from the burning mansion with o!ciel and didn't get kidnapped, they meet up outside the manor with auntie ann or the midford family (or both) and o!ciel is passed out because of his asthma and almost die, after recovering and the manor is fixed o!ciel becomes afraid of thr outside world and shut himself in. R!ciel the new Earl let this because he don't want to lose his little brother (brocon r!ciel) (his last remaining family) (mini drabble with Edward talking big bro feelings with r!ciel)

"Ciel..this isn't healthy" ciel holding a tray of food for his little brother stop in his tracks looking at Edward

The midford family visit atleast three times every three months to check up on him since the fire three years ago to help him with his earl duties or just being there for him since there's nobody else in the manor except him, his little brother, Tanaka, meyrin, bard, and finnian

The best people to protect his brother

"I thought we already went over this conversation years ago" the earl glared Edward went stiff a bit but shook it off

"But ciel! He's a kid YOU'RE a kid! You two should run around having fun! Let father and me handle your work and play with lizzy and--"

"Edward! I told you" his voice booms silencing Edward "astre is save here! Outside will only hurt him!" He scoff and continue walking

(Maybe something happens that make o!ciel to stop being a shut in slowly but surely, but I'm still thinking)

(Another mini drabble in the Weston school arc but o!ciel [being called astre] visit his brother to watch him, and r!ciel is so damn proud)

"God only knows, Sapphire Owl!"

Everyone parted and clap as white owls fly down to each students arm in good sync

"This is underwhelming" ciel mumble

"CIEEELL!! SO CUTE DO YOUR BEST!!~" Elizabeth between the crowds scream as energetic as ever, ciel follow her screams and saw her in the back he smiled and nod until he finally realized a shorter boy besides her

"Astre!" Ciel doesn't care if he'll get scolded later astre is here! Watching him as he promise

Ciel waves with a smile and give a 'focus ciel' face

-after the ceremony-

"Now group up! Were holding a meeting--"

"ASTRE!!" Ciel cut off, the blue house froze a bit nobody cuts off a prefect and phantomhive the usually calm one just burst out screaming

"Big brother, calm down--" ciel almost tackle astre but he of course remember that he's the older and stronger twin while astre is small and weak so he didn't crush astre completely

"With my little brother being here I for sure need to win this!" Ciel cheer

"Well isn't this familiar" a women older than them come up behind bluewer

"S-sis!" He gasped as he suddenly surrounded by all his sisters four youngest (two of them are even twins) and three older

'It look exactly like violet drawing' ciel though still hugging his brother close everything and everyone is tuned out by him now all he could see is his dear little brother

"Astre how's the ride? You're feeling okay right? There's so many people here don't forget to tell me if you start feeling overwhelmed--" astre laugh and pat his brother shoulders "I'm fine ciel, calm down a bit"

"My, Lawrence isn't that the phantomhive boy you talk about in your letters?" Suddenly one of bluewer older sister come up to them ciel hug astre closer but keep a smile

"Why hello, Nice to meet you" they shook hands

"Aww! What a gentleman! And a cute one at that"

"His looks, brains, and lineage are all good" another one of bluewer big sister come up to them

"And there's two of them! Say how about taking our little sister as your wife!"

"W-what!? Sister"

Ciel politely hold a hand up another hand wrap around his brother "I apologize madams but I have a fiance and" ciel squish astre defeated face "I'll rather die than hand my adorable little brother to anyone soon!" He claimed cheerfully

"Ah of course the perfect one's are brocon" both ladies sigh as their younger sister scold them for embarrassing her

Eliizabeth sigh with a smile behind them Edward and aunt Francis is there two bored with the scenery

"Ciel, I can't believe you'll rather be with your brother than my adorable little sister you brocon" Francis look at her deadpan "are you hearing yourself Edward"

[oceansmelodysblog]

Until my last breath

A botw Zelink reversed roles AU story

Chapter One - part One

[Notes at the end of the chapter]

As always, Link wakes up with the first rays of the sun, when the night still hangs mighty over the sky. When he jumped out of his bed in his sapphire blue night suit, he looked out of the wide-open window and searched for the sun. The white light broke a line at the end of the horizon and let the peak of the mountains look dangerous and scary. As Link walks to the closet and pulls out his black tunic and his Hylian trousers, the first servant knocks at the door and pleads for entrance.

“You may come inside.” Without showing any emotions, the servant called Celessia, brought him his morning hot tea made of the mighty thistle. It increases his willpower and lets him train harder and better every morning. “Please leave it on the table mistress Celessia.”

“Yes, your royal highness.” She says in a soft voice and leaves the room quietly.

Satisfied, Link nips at the soothing warmth of the tea and plans what training session he will have to train today.

He marched along the training ground and chose a suitable target, pulled his bow from his shoulder, leaned an arrow against the string and pulled the string with his thumb. The huge ring on his thumb, bearing the royal crest, protected his thumb from flesh wounds, inflicted by the string and too long training. He took a deep breath and concentrated on the point to which he wanted to shoot.

Then, he let go of the string. The arrow whizzed through the air and struck the black centre with full force.

Still, he wasn't satisfied, it didn't challenge him much, didn't give him a thrill to shoot after a target when he wasn't under stress.

Link trained non-stop, relentless, and driven by his delusion to outdo his brothers in the Heir to the Throne selection. He jumped over obstacles and shot from the air at several targets at once but failed to land and crashed to the ground.

He refused to give up and stood back on his feet with a shaking body. He took a deep breath to concentrate, but pain from his ribs stabbed through his whole body. His breath shook with pain and he sweated nervously. 'Focus, Link!' he slapped himself inwardly and started his iron-hard parkour again.

After the hard work out, he looked for the healer down the market. He walked past hard-working people from the kitchen and was greeted warmly. He smiled back each time but had to control himself to grimace so as not to show the pain. He always admired the drive of the people who worked in Hyrule Castle and tried to be friendly to them, even when his father tried to tell him otherwise.

‘A king must always maintain his dignity and never regard anyone as his equal,' his father's words rang in his head. Link, however, disagreed.

He continued to walk the corridors and observed the goings-on, picking up conversations here and there. One of them had been able to catch a special fish yesterday, and another told of a wrestling match in which he earned three times more than in the castle. Link always found the conversations interesting because he could learn a lot from the lives of others, and it didn't make him look like a spoilt prince locked up in the huge castle.

When he finally found the exit to the marketplace, he sighed with relief. The sun had been in the sky for some time by now, dipping the lively square in a golden, welcoming light. Men and women shouted and chanted from their stalls to attract more buyers, but Link also saw castle-affiliated servants, presumably running errands for the kitchen and the royal family.

Link, glad to be reasonably undetected, continued his search for the healer. But he was no longer at his stall, as usual. He therefore asked a passer-by who was nearby if she knew where the healer was.

"Yes, the old man has retired and is training a new disciple, he is in an old hut at the end of the road, around the corner to the left."

"Have thanks, honoured lady. Have a good day." Link politely said goodbye and hurried to the healer, because he didn't know how long he could stand the pain on his ribs.

As he reached the end of the street, he noticed how quieter it was and how shabby the houses here looked. He knew he would take another look on the surroundings to speak with his youngest brother, on how to improve this area when he had more time, but now he limped straight to the open door of the hut, expecting to find the healer, or his student, but instead he found a young woman with golden long hair.

The sun shone only minimally through the dirty windows, but the few rays made her hair look like liquid gold. The girl was squatting on the floor under the table filled with all sorts of herbs and substances, making notes in a small book as she looked back and forth between her book and the herbs.

 Link leaned against the wooden door frame with his arms folded, analysing her from head to toe. Her back was turned to him; from the looks of it, she hadn't noticed him yet. Link cleared his throat, startling the young woman, and banged her head against the edge of the table. She held her head with her face contorted in pain and turned to him curiously.

"I am sorry I didn't want to scare you-" His eyes widened and his mouth was wide open as he looked into her pretty face. Neither could get out of their stare until Link cleared his throat to avoid being rude. "I'm looking for the healer, or at least his apprentice. I-"

"You have chest pains, am I right?" she interrupted him.

For a moment he stared at her, perplexed, and immediately understood. "So, you are the healer's pupil. I see. Say, would you look at my ribs, the pain takes my breath away."

"Very well, please sit on the table."

Link did as he was told and sat on the table while the young woman laid herbs and bandages ready beside him. Curious, he watched her work.

"If you will allow me, I would prefer to remove your tunic".

"It would be a great help if you could do that for me." He whispered through his pain. Sweating through his sorrow.

She looked at him with her big green eyes and smiled shyly. Quietly and carefully, she pulled up his top and got him to release his pain-free side first, then helped him out of his injured half. Gentle, soft fingertips tentatively touched his skin. He wasn't sure why his body was paying so much attention, though, because she wasn't the first woman to touch him, after all.

"What is your name, healer?" he asked, giving her a sly smile.

"My name is Zelda, my lord. Or should I say Your Royal Highness, rather?" she said, curtsying playfully. Through her lashes, she looked up at him and smiled.

Link was surprised once more at her astuteness. He smirked. "You recognised it from my ring." It was more a statement than a question, yet she nodded.

"Outside of the royal family and the archer battalion, few are permitted to wear a ring on their thumb. And only the Royal Family is permitted to wear this ring with the sacred Triforce Seal of the Deities. Judging by your sea-blue irises, you must be Prince Link, as your brothers often have ice-blue or green ones."

Link wondered why he had never met such a gifted woman, even though he knew every face in and around Hyrule Castle. While he pondered this, she crushed plants in a wooden mortar and spread the paste on the bandages.

Zelda secretly kept looking at Link's immaculately shaped face, but quickly lowered her gaze when their eyes met.

"These herbs will soften the lesions on your ribs and the bandages will support your muscles. Please be more careful with your body next time. When the body and mind are not in harmony, such injuries occur."

Link nodded and then felt the cooling paste on his body and how she carefully, with skilful hands, tied the bandage around his broad chest. He relaxed; exhaled in relief.

"I thank you for your help. But I am surprised that I have never met such a beautiful and skilled woman as you are. Is this your first time in the marketplace?"

"No, your royal highness. I have been here for some time and enjoyed training as a healer. You just hadn't noticed me until now."

"What a blind idiot I've been." Meaningfully, he stared into her green eyes.  He knew women were at his feet when he looked at them like that.

"No you're not, your royal highness. Our paths just haven't crossed yet."

"Then I would like our paths to cross more often, from now on. What would you think of getting a better education at the castle? I'd get you all the books and materials you'd need and you'd be given the title of Royal Healer."

Zelda frowned imperceptibly, generous offers usually had a catch with them; even more so when it came from a prince.

"Forgive my rudeness, but I must decline your offer. I am still not a trained master healer and I have yet to pay off my debt to the master, so I will stay here where I belong. You should now return to your palace and rest your bruises."

Zelda turned her back on him and returned her attention to her notes.

"Do you not charge a fee for treatment?" he asked, as if left out in the cold. While he knew that not everything worked his way, it felt like a punch in the gut with her.

"No, because I have to write everything down and if the Master reads that a prince has been here, he'll grumble at me for not taking all your rupees." Zelda half turned to Link and squinted over at him while the corners of her mouth twitched trying not to laugh at her master.

"Then accept this as an anonymous donation" Link reached into his leather pouch on his belt and detached it. Setting the entire pouch down on the treatment table, he picked up his tunic and left the hut before Zelda could refuse his generous donation.

Link stopped shortly and heard from a distance how Zelda snapped for air sharply and then began to cheer. He couldn't help but smiling broadly across his face. Proudly, he walked back to the marketplace.

In the open square, the wind blew icy cold over his naked and bandaged upper body. As if he were stepping out of a hammam into the open air, the icy cold awakened his senses. He was aware of how much rupees he had left behind and hoped that the oddball old man would relieve her of her debt. But knowing him, it was not the case.

As he mulled over a solution to help Zelda to move on, he smiled half-heartedly at the passer-by who greeted him with his title. He was too busy trying to find a solution.

Soon the winter solstice would fall in the kingdom, it would get freezing cold in the run-down hut and he wanted them to be warm.

 

Zelda counted the rupees the prince had left again, just to make sure she could trust her mind. Six thousand five hundred and sixty-four rupees she counted in total. It was enough to research more medicines, buy new instruments and they could still find a better, but more importantly warmer, place to stay that had a bit more space to accommodate more patients. "Almighty Goddess Hylia, I thank you for sending me this generous prince," she whispered.

"Did I just hear generous prince?"

Shocked, Zelda turned abruptly to stare at her diminutive master. She had to quickly weigh how much to reveal without Link losing face. It was too unlikely that a person of the royal family would show up.

"A man came on behalf of the royal court and delivered this purse full of rupees to me. The man did not want to reveal who the anonymous donor was at first, but I managed to find out that it was one of the princes. The servant added the message that it was time to fund Doctor Borville's talent and left without another word. That is all I know, sir."

Zelda held her breath, so tense was she. Under no circumstances could she reveal to the old man that the Prince had been here, as he would force her to ingratiate herself to the Prince to exploit him for his greedy purposes.

The old man scratched his pointed beard thoughtfully, took his chair and sat on it.

"Finally, it is about time that my knowledge is appreciated. I'm just wondering which of the princes it was. Ragnar and Link always come here when they've messed up in their training and are too proud to go to the royal healer because their father would get wind of it. It must be one of them…hmm… I wonder which one…"

Dr Borville lit the tobacco in his pipe with relish and leaned back in his chair. Zelda forced herself to smile because of the lie about his skills. She knew that her abilities had surpassed her master's and every day she felt it more and more; as if she was standing still without being able to grow. But then she smirked at the thought of Link secretly trying to escape his father's eyes.

"But don't you dare using the money to pay your debts. I'll publicly denounce you as a thief if you do," he warned her.

Zelda clawed her nails into the edge of the table she was holding onto and sighed inwardly. Of course, she wouldn’t dare to, but the old man hated young people and women and she was both, so she was incessantly subjected to his harassment.

She had to do something to be able to live independently of her father one day. A life of freedom, far away from the place where she had only bad memories. But as it goes as it is, she wondered if she was ever able to accomplish that since the old geezer barely paid her full salary.

To take her mind off things and distract her teacher, she posed curiously. "Doctor, would you kindly tell me more about the princes?"

"You silly brat, don't even know anything about the ruling family. These children these days, never learn. Anyway, let me explain to you who the royal family is:

Starting with King Selim. He is titled The Mighty and The Merciless because he mercilessly defends the sacred places of the goddesses. The present borders of Hyrule are entirely due to his iron hand. In the past, there were often wars over those sacred sites, over the Temple of Time and the Forgotten Temple. However, King Selim never gave up and risked everything to protect those places. Unfortunately, he is also merciless within his family, as he expected the same strength from his sons. That is why his sons come to me very often, as everyone in the royal house is under the king's watch. Everything is reported to the king and even injuries that the boys inflict on themselves during hard training can lead to the father's disfavour. You must know, none of them have the same mother and are therefore exposed to constant competition. To avoid brothers of the same blood killing each other to get on the throne, King Selim enforced the law that as soon as a queen gave birth to an heir to the throne, she would be sent to a province with her son. The young prince would then undergo an extensive and rigorous education until the age of 16, so that he would henceforth be allowed to live in the royal court. However, who was allowed to be crowned king was up to the king alone. In the past, the remaining brothers were executed to prevent them from plotting against the new king, which also explains why the boys have no uncles and only aunts. Selim may be a cruel man, but the loss of his brothers also demanded a lot of him, so he decided to change the old law by sending the remaining brothers back to their mothers. Princes also have the choice of establishing themselves in other fields, such as the armed forces.

If we look at the first-born Prince Ecberht; The ambitious and eccentric Ecberht, sees his brothers only as competitors for the royal throne and often gives them a hard time. However, at his young age of 20, he has a strange power to draw attention to himself and also enjoys making big speeches to fire up the crowd. He spends most of his time handling diplomatic affairs in other kingdoms and playfully twists people around his finger. You can recognise him by his different coloured eyes; one green and one blue. He has darker hair than his brothers because his mother, Queen Seaxbourgh has very dark hair and green eyes. Like all princes, he had to be taught martial arts and is consequently very muscular. He has no siblings, as he was the very first child.

Prince Link, the son of the second queen, Queen Aslaug, is a highly talented archer, horse warrior and wields any sword weapon as if it were part of himself. And yet he is only 19 years old and already surpasses any sword master."

 Zelda tried not to let on how the name caught her attention, so she turned her face away and turned her attention to the herbs. Dr Borville paused briefly in his narrative to clutch at his painfully cramped back. Meanwhile, she looked for a plant that increased concentration and one that relieved pain. She boiled both with hot water and handed the tea with the pain relief to her master. The doctor's little errand boy returned with a bag of herbs and Zelda motioned for him to sit on her lap and listen in.

"Well, now that we are complete, I can continue the tale... where was I?" asked the senile man.

"At Prince Link's."

"Oh yes exactly! Prince Link, as I said, is not only gifted in the martial arts, but also excels in all the sciences. Some rumour says he is the King's absolute favourite, having inherited his father's acumen and ruthlessness. However, he is not my favourite, as he has a too soft heart, having inherited his mother's sense of justice and mercy. These people only bring trouble and endanger the rules of the monarchy, as was seen years later."

" What happened years later?" asked the little boy, on Zelda's lap, named Nebb. He was just six years young and yet he had to work so hard to help his family.

"Don't be so impatient, you brat!" the doctor grumbled.

Nebb winced imperceptibly, but Zelda didn't miss it and hugged him closer. He looked up at her and thanked her with a smile.

"The problem was that King Selim was so fascinated with her that years later, he bent the rules and fathered a second child with her. Princess Lagertha. She must have reached the age of 12 by now. You can see how dangerous the very existence of such people is for the dynasty's continued operations," he grumbled.

Zelda sighed inwardly. 'Surely this grumpy old man is afraid of everything that is foreign to him,' she thought.

"Anyway, what about the other princes?" she asked instead of speaking her thoughts aloud.

"All right, then. Let us now come to Prince Ragnar. He is the son of the third queen, Bonduca, a queen who was also an army commander and a warrior in body and soul. Ragnar therefore takes after her; a giant, broad-shouldered and a strategic genius. You can see his lust for battle in his eyes. He is generally recognised by his provocative smirk on his face. You can recognise him by his ice-blue eyes and white-blond hair, which he has braided into a complicated knot combined with an undercut. However, he is also a womaniser and no one knows how many bastard sons he has fathered. He may be a battle-strategic genius on the battlefield, but to rule a kingdom he is far too cunning.

Then there is Prince James, the youngest brother. Three years younger than Prince Ecberht. He is the son of the third queen, Queen Elizabeth. Average height, athletic and possesses an immense repertoire of knowledge. Although he has copper hair, a stubbly beard and green eyes, like his mother, he is very calm in contrast to his striking appearance. He is only interested in the relics of the ancient peoples who once developed these titans, shrines and towers. All humbug, in my opinion. At least he has a knack for architecture, infrastructure and finance. He could handle numbers and formulas like no one else in the kingdom and is often consulted by the Sheikah. In my opinion, he should take more interest in it, but nobody asks me. Old people have nothing more to say. What are these relics for? It's not for nothing that they were never used, as no one seems to have needed them! Pah!"

But as the old doctor was getting more into his aggression, a young man in his mid-twenties suddenly came rushing in. Zelda, in a panic, hid the little Nebb behind her and stood in front of the sack of Rupees so as not to create any problems.

"Hand over the rupees the prince left you and no one will get hurt!"

"There was no prince here! Now get out of here before I ram my cane so far up your ass that you can nibble on it with your teeth," said the grim old man, waving his walking stick on his chair.

Zelda, meanwhile, secretly tucked the pouch into her sleeve. "Please don't hurt us, we will give you what we have, but a prince was not here. And we have only the bare necessities."

"I don't believe a word you say! I saw one of the princes come out of this street!" he shouted, waving his short sword around.

"Get out of here, you good-for-nothing dumbass!" the doctor shouted.

Zelda slowly walked to the herb cupboard where her savings were and gave it to the burglar.

"As I said it's not much, but it's all we have. A prince wasn't here either, because as you know they would never set foot in a dump. They are too fine for themselves." She watched expectantly as the man assessed the information and hoped he could not see through it. The man lowered his knife and counted the rupees in the container as she slowly turned to Nebb and gestured with her eyes for him to give her one of the stinking elixirs. Like a ghost, the little boy moved around the room and stealthily handed a bottle to Zelda's hand behind her back. Determined, she held the bottle in her hand and prayed to Hylia to have the courage to do right.

The young man eyed her suspiciously and took out all the money and put it in his belt pouch.

Tensely, Zelda watched what was happening and clutched the bottle like a sprout of hope.

The old man looked at the young man grimly. Zelda inwardly admonished him for saying something rash. This was a dangerous situation in which they would either have to get away with minimal loss or pay with their lives.

Every word and every move would therefore be weighed in the balance.

But suddenly he put away his short sword.

"This time I believe you. But I will watch you. If I see anything conspicuous, I will kill you all and take your money that you are hiding from me."

He left the hut and ran away.

A moment later, all three breathed a sigh of relief. Nebb ran into Zelda's open arms and hugged her tightly. Zelda had gone down on her knees and was relieved that little innocent Nebb did not have to experience any horror.

"We should send the money back to the prince, it's too dangerous to keep it here,” she said to break the tension.

"Absolutely not! We'd be bankrupt without the money and it will starve us for the winter! I'd rather die a quick death than starve to death in freezing cold!" although the old geezer was being stubborn again, Zelda had to agree with him. It was risky, but it was better than starving. She looked at Nebb and immediately regretted her words.

‘His family would starve too,’ she thought gloomily. She kissed his forehead and let him go.

There was another way. And Link was the solution.

"Master, please excuse me for today, I have to go and look after my father," she lied.

"Yes, yes. But in the morning you're going to stand here with full attention again and work the hell out of you."

She nodded and took Nebb's tiny hand. She put the elixir back and walked towards the Royal Castle with the boy by the hand.

 

Link looked out his window and saw all the lanterns flooding the marketplace with light, music reaching his ears and drawing him magically. The winter solstice had arrived once again, which could only explain one thing about the commotion: The Festival of Lights was being celebrated. For as long as Link could remember, he loved this festival, as it was the best way to mingle with all the peoples of Hyrule and to escape, at least for one evening, from the hard training of princes.

He wondered what he should wear, whether he should stay undercover or reveal himself. He sighed, realising that every single person knew his face anyway. So he decided to put on his white shirt, but the fabric on his arms and chest made them tense, he was gaining muscle from the harder training and excessive food intake. He cursed softly to himself and buttoned the buttons along his muscular torso with difficulty.  He pulled on the sapphire blue Prince's tunic, accentuated by golden ornaments at the hem and sleeves. He then pulled on the black and brown leather chest protector with the royal family crest and tied his leather bracers to his forearms. When he was finished with his dark Hylian trousers and leather boots, he tied on his leather belt, which had the seal of the Triforce stamped on it. Link finally threw his cloak around his shoulders and fastened his sword to his belt and strutted out of the palace towards the marketplace with his shoulders erect.

"Oh, beloved big brother Link! Wait for me, I'm coming with you!" a melodic voice shouted behind him as he already caught the dusty smell of earth mixed with wood and snow of the marketplace. Clacking heels ran towards him; he knew the footsteps all too well. He turned and as he spread his arms wide, a petite person jumped into his arms. Link gently set her on her feet and looked at his younger sister. She had her dark blonde long hair braided all the way through and decorated with flowers, and had had a lovely dress in muted colours tailored for the occasion. She looked like a flower child, blessed by the goddess Hylia herself.

"Lagertha my dear little sister. It is good to see you well again.  You look wonderful and adorable in your outfit." She smiled sheepishly as Link held out his arm to her and escorted her to the fairground.

"Big brother Link, do you know where our brothers Ragnar, James and Ecberht are? I haven't seen them in a long time, since I was sent to boarding school for girls.  You have always been the only one to send me letters and gifts." Although it distressed her, Lagertha had learned not to let anyone know outwardly, but her brother Link, was the only person she could be who she was with.

"Our brothers have never been good with words, especially when it comes to their feelings. Please, bear with them, they still love you with all their hearts and would have any bastard executed on the spot if they so much as touched a hair on your head."

He always knew how she felt and was grateful and relieved that he could understand her without saying much.

"Thank you very much, dear brother. But let us rather celebrate the winter solstice and think of happier things. I'm sure our brothers will be there too." She trilled happily and grinned broadly at him.

He looked down at her and laughed heartily at the underlying irony in her voice. Yes, there was some truth to it, for Ragnar, James and Ecberht were indeed never far away when there was something to celebrate.

Soon the two siblings had reached the marketplace and were watching the colourful swirl of lights, dances and different clans. Happy laughter accompanied the sound of the Goron clan's taiko drums, the Rito's accordion and sweet singing, the Sheikah's shakuhachi flute and the Gerudo's oriental-sounding instruments. Various smells from the stalls rose to their noses and stimulated their curiosity and appetite. Although it was freezing cold, this place seemed like a warming oasis and warmed the hearts of the people. Sporadically, Hylian knights danced with women from different clans, twirling them as their clothes were stirred up by the gyrations.

Link looked at his little sister, who was beaming with joy. At moments like these, he wished his sister could enjoy a simple life, away from the castle.

But then the booming sound of trumpets interrupted him and everything went quiet. The guards had just announced the arrival of the royal family.

All eyes were now on them.

Link felt a strong hand on his left shoulder and looked up.

End of part one

Notes: based on the Zelink reversed roles AU Art of @/TheNebulace on Twitter I had the inspiration to write this multiple chapter Story of Zelda being a healer and Link being a Heir to the Throne.

Many characters name's are based on real npc from botw or are legendary/historically personalities.

Selim:historical chronicles says he was a ruthless and mighty emperor of the ottoman empire who protected the sacred religious grounds until his last breath. Lived in the 15th century

Ragnar: legendary Viking king and (is here) based on his Viking Series character

Lagertha: legendary queen, wife of Ragnar and warrior (here based on the Viking Series character with no relationship to her half brother Ragnar)

Queen Bonduca: [aka Boudicca] historically British Queen and Commander of a Legion 61 AC (here the mother of Ragnar)

Queen Seaxbourgh: historical mother of the historical Ecberht

Ecberht: King of the Wessex in 8th century, fought against the invasion of the Vikings, also here based in the Viking Series character

Queen Elizabeth: historically daughter of Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn, Tudor-Family. Lived in the 16th century.

James: historical successor of Queen Elizabeth Tudor, has here red hair to honour the red haired Queen Elizabeth Tudor

Nebb & Celessia: NPC from Botw

Part two:

https://freshbreezesworld.tumblr.com/post/639445306711375872/until-my-last-breath

[evqnbuckley]

Chapter 1: Hopeless

Okay so i wrote my thoughts on what I wanted the finale to be and this got out of hand...this is like almost if not 6k and i’m not even finished. If this is popular enough I’ll continue to post on here but I’m gonna continue to update on ao3! @princesscas

Sam awakens from his nightmare, disoriented. The visions of seeing himself grow old, having a family and dying feel all too real. The beginning of his nightmare is fading and somewhat fuzzy but he remembers Dean making an appearance. He remembers seeing himself fight alongside his brother, killing some vampires, a normal hunt. Then his memory clears and the image of his brother impaled against a wooden pole catches his breath.

He wipes a hand across his face, trying to erase the images of Dean saying goodbye, of Dean's hand dropping as he took his last breath, and the image of lighting his own brother's pyre.

Sam pulls the covers off and walks toward the kitchen for a glass of water. The bunker is quiet, peaceful even. He still hasn't gotten used to calling it home, not really. The thing about a home is, four walls don't constitute it. Family is similar. It's not based on who you're related to but who loves you and has your back. Family, a home, whatever they are things you build around you. He had learned that long ago.

The wooden floors creak as he walks through the library. The silence is deafening yet comforting. It's a reminder that, for once, the world isn't ending. The linoleum sends shivers down his spine as he enters the kitchen. Sam replays the nightmare in his head while he downs a glass of water from the sink. The images slowly become distorted and misplaced in his memory. He eventually cannot picture it in his mind.

Sighing, Sam places the glass in the sink and walks back to his room. His feet make a pit-pat noise, approaching the hallway. Dean's door is cracked open slightly with faint light seeping through. Sam turns toward the door and peers in. His face softens, taking in the scene. Dean is cuddling a pillow adorned with a worn, rough, blue pillow case. The light emits from a lone lamp on his desk. Some type of paper for a mechanic position sits atop a few books from the library. Sam eyes the paperwork, puzzled. Dean never told me he got a job. Underneath, one of the books has a bookmark in three different places. There are a few crumpled up papers on and around the floor. Sam picks one up and unravels it.

Cas I know you're in the empty and you probably can't hear me….why did you do it? Why didn't you tell me about the deal before? I know I messed up and Billie was about to kill us both but….we could have died together found another way.

Why didn't you tell me?

Sam picks up another one. This time it's the one closest to the trash can. The markings are a bit sharper than the paper before. Almost more angry. It appears some words are smudged but still legible.

I try to move on and put on a brave face for Sammy. He needs to know now that Chuck is gone we can move on. We have to. I have tried to find a way to bring you back Cas. None of the books are fucking useful. I can't read Enochian. I don't even know if Enochian text is the key to saving you. I've tried contacting Rowena but i think she's busy. I'm at my wits end. I haven't gotten much sleep to be honest. As I'm writing this I have looked through 28 books all based on portals to other dimensions, hell, sacrificial rituals and reverse rituals. Even Astral projecting. I don't know what to do….

Sam swallows past the dry lump caught in his throat. He glances at Dean, making sure he's still asleep. Dean briefly shifts, pulling the pillow closer. Sam relaxes and picks up one more crumpled up paper. This one appears fresh, as if Dean wrote it tonight.

I tried praying to the angels. They didn't listen. No one is listening. Jack isn't even listening. He took himself out of the story, I know but this is you I'm talking about. How can he just sit by while you're suffering. I guess I'm on my own.

Why did you say that now?

The last sentence confuses Sam. He burrows his eyebrows as he studies the three entries. Dean is searching for a way to save Cas. To bring him back. And he didn't tell me? Sam quietly crunches the papers back up and places them back where he found them. Dean doesn't move. As Sam switches the lamp off, he feels the heaviness of the dark engulf him. I have to talk to Dean tomorrow.

Dean rolls over as the aroma of burnt bacon fills his room. He rubs the sleep from his eyes as he sits up. Realizing that Sam is about to burn the bunker down, he slips on his robe and jogs to the kitchen.

"What the hell are you doing in my kitchen?"

"Well good morning to you too," Sam replies a bit offended. He's flipping bacon as Dean yanks the tongs out of his grip. "What- I am making breakfast. Can I not make breakfast?"

"I don't know what you think you're making but it definitely, definitely ain't breakfast," Dean smarts. He trashes the burnt bacon and starts a new batch. "Sit. No, why don't you make some coffee."

"Already did. Here ya go," Sam slides Dean's mug across the island, "your highness," Sam says under his breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing. I actually wanted to talk to you about something."

"Yeah, me too," Sam perks up. "I think I found something that screams our kinda thing. We should head there after we eat breakfast. It's not too long of a drive." Dean finishes as he places the cooked bacon on some paper towels and grins from ear to ear. Sam just watches as his brother starts on some scrambled eggs. This might be more challenging than I had hoped.  

"So when you said our sorta thing you meant pie?"

"I meant pie," Dean confirms with a satisfied smirk. "Now, I'm gonna go eat me some of that pie."

"Didn't we-Dean we just had breakfa- nevermind," Sam gives in and follows Dean through the crowd.

Several families are participating in the pie fest. Some are gearing up to find out who can eat the most pie, who makes the best pumpkin pie, and some are just making whip cream pies and pieing each other. Sam observes those around him with a small smile. A life he desperately wants someday but knows he can't have. Or can I?

Dean approaches Sam with a big box and almost runs into some bystander. "Hey, watch it."

"What is that?" Sam raises an eyebrow.

"I couldn't pick just one! Come on, Sammy we're at a pie fest. What do you take me for?"

"An idiot."

Dean ponders his answer and let's it slide. He picks up one of the pies and offers it to his brother. Sam declines. "Dude, you gotta at least try it."

"No, really I'm good."

"Alright, what is it? What's got you so down today?"

"Nothing. I'm fine," Sam replies.

"No, see I know my baby brother. So I know that is your sad Sam face. Fess up, what's wrong?"

"I'm not-" Sam begins, but Dean gives him a look.

"I don't know. I'm just thinking about Cas, about Jack."

Dean's expression falls. He looks down and places the pie back in its spot. "Yea me too. I think about them too. Every day. But we have to move on, Sam. Live our lives. Or else that sacrifice, it will all be for nothing," Dean looks at Sam. "So help me finish this pie."

Dean reaches down for the same pie again but his face is met with a cold surface. Sam smothers the pumpkin pie in Dean's face, laughing. "You know what, I do feel better!"

Sam shakes his hand to free the whip cream, watching Dean rake the remainder of the pie off his chin with his fork. Suddenly, Sam's temples begin pulsing painfully and he has an immense sense of deja vu. His smile falters and he feels out of place. Almost, as if he's reliving this moment. It's similar to the feeling he had this morning.

"Hey, Sam. You okay?"

"Uh, yeah." He's not honestly sure if everything is okay.

Sam texts Eileen and tells her he wants to make up for the date they missed months ago. She agrees it has been too long and tonight would work for her. Sam doesn't want to make promises, as the day is still young, but they plan for their date tonight at 7. Dean teases Sam about it even though the two are already a couple. Saying things like, "don't do anything I wouldn't do" or "make sure you use protection." Sam just sighs and shakes his head.

It's 6:35 pm and nothing has come across the wire. Social media is quiet, so Sam texts Eileen that the date is a go. She replies five minutes later, ready to go and excited to see Sam. Dean offers to let Sam take the Impala out to pick Eileen up. For once in a long time, Sam is excited. When he reaches the garage door, Sam glances back at his brother and sees him nursing a brand new whiskey bottle. Sam frowns at the sight. Dean deserves to feel excited, to be happy. Sam will go on this date with Eileen, tell her about Cas, and they will come back to help Dean. Help Dean get his best friend back. Our best friend back .

Dean waves his brother off and slumps into the chair in the library. It's not very comfortable. In fact, the wooden back is digging into his thoracic spine and causing some pain. But it's better than the alternative. The alternative of thinking about what he's lost, who he's lost, and how he lost them. That pain will never go away. Right now I can focus on this acute pain and center my thoughts on it. Keep myself from sinking into the dark hole of nothing I've been trying to climb out of since I lost - since I lost

Dean finishes the whiskey bottle before Sam gets home and he's still not drunk enough. He rises from the chair and walks to the liquor cart. All the bottles are half empty or nothing but drops of whiskey, gathering at the bottom of the glass. He picks up one empty glass bottle and stares at it for several moments. His vision becomes distorted from the small glass textures, his left ear begins to ring from the silence as he falls into a trance like state. Then, a glint of sapphire reflects in the textured glass. It catches his eye; Dean swallows. Suddenly, he's thinking of Castiel. Cas. He's thinking of "I love you's" and "Goodbye, Dean" and black goo. He's thinking of how the image of his best friend disappearing into a black mass of nothing is seared in his memory forever. He's thinking of how he didn't get to say goodbye, or anything really, and now he never will.

He grimaces at the bottle, squeezes the neck so hard his knuckles blanche, and throws it across the room, into the kitchen. It lands by the island, shattering to pieces, with a deafening crash. Dean feels his eyes burning and hot tears gathering at the corners. Before he realizes, Dean is grabbing all the glass bottles and throwing them into the kitchen. In his fit of rage, Dean throws one bottle too high and it shatters against the side of the kitchen table. Glass spreads across the floor. He doesn't even register the intensity of the mess until one bottle knocks off another, shattering it at his feet. He stops throwing the bottles, breaking from his trance.

"I tried everything! I can't save you! There's nothing left! How could you do this to me, you son of a bitch," Dean cries. He places his hands on either side of his head, thinking. "Jack! How can you just leave us? We need you. Cas needs you! Fuck this all powerful, all knowing God bullshit. We're family!" Dean tosses the cart over. "Isn't that enough?" He pauses and glances around for a moment. Nothing. "Dammit, Jack. Why won't you answer my prayers? I need some help!" He cries out and slowly sits down. "I can't do this on my own," he whispers between his sniffles. He begs over and over again please please please in his head for a few moments. But he's met with silence like every other time. Dean accepts this and wipes his tears away, picks the cart up, grabs the broom and dustpan from the kitchen and picks up his mess. He can't have Sam see what a hypocrite he truly has become.

Dean cuts himself on a few lone pieces of glass, but it's nothing he can't handle. In fact, for a brief moment, the pain gives him something to focus on. He mindlessly watches the crimson slowly drain down the sink as he holds his palm under the running water. He wonders what it feels like to float down the water, through the pipes, through the darkness, into nothing. What is wrong with me? But that's where Cas is right now. A bunch of nothing. Dean grabs a hand towel and wraps it around his left hand before returning to the broom. The kitchen is just about clean. Within about 5 minutes, all the glass and spilled whiskey is gone. Almost as if it never happened. Dean places the broom and dustpan back in the corner and trudges through the hallways.

There is a secret stash of whiskey in his man cave that Dean hid for emergencies. And this constitutes an emergency. He walks to the wall, removes a Star Wars poster from the fifth movie, and pulls out a few bricks, revealing the beautiful brown bottle of Jack Daniel's. Not his favorite but Dean was in a rush when he bought it a couple of weeks ago before they defeated Chuck just in case anything went sideways. Also, in case Sam found his stash at least it wouldn't be his good whiskey. Popping the cap off, Dean takes a long swig as he stumbles toward the couch. Sam should be home soon. I'll be done with this bottle by then and be able to forget anything blue for a while. Except all he dreams of is blue.

Bright blue swirls fill his dreams as he drifts off. He feels immense warmth as the blue wraps around him like a large ribbon and he floats above the grass. The ribbon caresses Dean like a soft, silk cloud, holding him in place. A slight breeze causes the ribbon to ripple in harmony and alternate between hues of blue. The colors circulate between indigo to azure to cobalt to cerulean to teal and finally midnight blue effortlessly. Dean sees dark angels wings above and feels safe. He flies higher as the ribbon ascends toward the wings. Flashes of cerulean eyes skip by, sad and yearning, before Dean is pulled down into dark azure ocean water by the wings. The ribbon of blue dissolves into nothing. Dean feels alone. In dreams, people don't usually have their sense of smell, but Dean swears he smells hints of sandalwood, a campfire, and honey. Then, he sees Castiel materialize before him with his wings extended, long and wide. Beautiful. They're untouched with no sign of rebellion or impurities. Just as Dean had first seen them. Before he met me. Before he rebelled and lost everything for me. I cursed you, Cas. Green eyes lock with blue and Castiel smiles at Dean. Then suddenly, Castiel's wings begin to dissipate and burn away. He appears to scream in pain. Dean reaches out just as soon as the water darkens and swarms around Castiel. He thrashes against the thick water but cannot break free. Dean is frozen in the water and at once cannot breathe. He screams out to Castiel but no sound comes out. He, instead, inhales the water. Castiel disappears within the black, thick water just as soon as he appears. He's gone.

Dean's eyes slowly open. This is a recurring nightmare he's had since Castiel sacrificed himself. Since he left. Dean had hoped the alcohol would impair his subconscious enough to avoid the nightmare. Beer hasn't been strong enough, nor tequila, or vodka. Whiskey is his last resort and apparently it does jack-shit. I need something stronger, if I am to get any sleep. Although the whiskey does not keep the nightmares at bay it does keep him numb. That is enough to continue drinking. He reaches for the bottle and misses. I may be seeing double. After a few tries, Dean successfully retrieves the bottle and downs the remaining third of the whiskey. His head feels heavy and his chest feels hot. Dean can feel his fingers tingling and toes numbing against his socks. This is the sweet spot of feeling drunk, he thinks.

Sam returns from his date, unnoticed, and walks into the room, seeing Dean spread out on the couch. He eyes the empty whiskey bottle on the coffee table and sighs. Sam remembers the other whiskey bottle left on the library table. The same one Dean had been nursing before Sam left. Dean is on a bender again. Eileen shuffles up next to Sam and glances at the couch. She looks at Sam with a sad look. At dinner, he filled her in with everything he knows about Castiel and his sacrifice for Dean. But Eileen didn't realize it would affect Dean this badly. She walks over to Dean and pulls the blanket from on top of the couch and covers Dean. He's passed out again and is slightly twitching. His eyes are racing back and forth.

"We will regroup tomorrow and discuss Plan SOC," Sam whispers while signing.

"I'm still not sure about the code word," Eileen signs with a grimace.

"We'll work on it," he signs with a shrug.

The next morning Dean wakes to his Jack Daniel's replaced with three ibuprofen pills and a glass of water. Grateful, he slowly takes them one at a time due to the agonizing headache. Usually he doesn't have headaches or hangovers but the nightmares don't give him much rest. He really isn't able to sleep off the alcohol. Pressing the heel of his hands into his eyes to push back the headache, Dean sighs with exhaustion. He doesn't even know what time it is. His watch reads 4:32 but Dean is unsure if it's AM or PM.

Suddenly, he feels his stomach growl and Dean realizes he hasn't eaten since about noon today. Yesterday? He sloppily rises up and makes his wake toward the kitchen. Nothing really sounds appetizing except for some string cheese. Only, they don't have string cheese. Of course. So, Dean settles for the two day old pepperoni pizza in the fridge. Not too bad, and he will never say no to pizza. Dean isn't sure how long he was passed out but the effects of the whiskey have certainly worn down a bit. He can't walk a straight line, but his vision is more clear. He clumsily carries the pizza box over to the library table next to his laptop and sits it down. Quietly, he pulls the chair out and takes a seat. The hunter in him wants to make sure everything is quiet out in the world. The clock on his laptop confirms its 4:38 AM.

A few clicks and searches show there's a local mysterious killing. Our kinda thing. Dean smiles, knowing that this case will help keep his mind busy. And he will be able to save someone. At least this way he will feel like his life was worth saving. Ironic. I feel like I've said that before. Why do people feel the need to jump at any chance to save me? I don't deserve saving. Dad sold his soul for me and now Cas. I don't deserve it. He shakes his head and munches down on cold pizza in silence.

Dean finishes the last three slices of pizza, underestimating how hungry he had been. He watches a few dumb YouTube videos for a while, to keep his mind off things, waiting for Sam to wake up. Dean is tempted to grab a beer from the fridge but decides against it. He needs to be as sober as possible for the hunt, for Sam. If Dean were to go alone, he would not care. Not at this moment anyway.

Dean has realized his mood swings are ridiculous lately. At one moment, he's super depressed and doesn't care about anything. He honestly doesn't care if he lives or dies.  The next moment he can't wait to see what life has to offer. It's as if his brain doesn't know how to comprehend what Castiel's sacrifice means to him. His thoughts can become so tangled and incoherent Dean doesn't know how to act - what to say. That's why he started writing down some of his thoughts, and then thought how much of girl that made him and crumpled the papers up. Right now, he can really use a moment to write down his thoughts.

He grabs the notepad and pen on the table and scribbles away. I hate this feeling. What am I supposed to feel? Anger? Sadness? Relief? Emptiness? Frustration? All of the above? Others? You left me with so many unanswered questions and I left you with nothing in return. How am I supposed to go on knowing this? Cas, how can I go minute to minute, hour to hour, knowing what I know now? I fucked up. I had a chance to say what I've been wanting to say for a while and I couldn't. I didn't. Did you even know? I mean do I even fucking know? I can't even hate you to make myself feel better. I can't bring myself to say I hate you for doing this to me. Because I could never hate you. The paper becomes wet with a few tear drops. I will find you, Cas. Just wait for me.

Dean places the pen next to the notepad after a moment. He wipes his nose with his flannel sleeve. Not many tears fell but his nose is running pretty good. Out of all of his thought entries, this one felt the most cathartic. He sometimes pretends that Castiel can hear him read the words to himself or even hear him as Dean writes the words. Just as Castiel heard his prayer in Purgatory. But he doesn't. He won't. The empty is a dark and torturous place. My prayer and words will be the last things he'd focus on.

Dean lays his head on the table from exhaustion, but doesn't shut his eyes. He won't risk falling asleep. Instead, he focuses on counting the books on each shelf to his right. Then, once he's done with those he counts the ones on his left. Dean notices some of these books, he nor Sam even use. He doesn't know half of the content in these books. Unfortunately, Dean underestimated how counting can cause drowsiness no matter the subject at play. His eyes begin to drift when Sam walks in with loud footsteps.

Yawning, Sam says, "What are you doing in here? You should be in bed."

Dean jerks up, shaking his head from thoughts of sleep. "I found us a case," he replies.

"Mhm. Is that all you were looking for during the early morning?" Sam asks, eyeing the covered notepad. Dean notices and quickly turns it over.

"Sam," he warns. "mind your business."

"Good morning," Eileen joins the boys in the library.

Dean isn't too surprised to see her here but is happy for Sam nonetheless. "Morning, Eileen. I hope sasquatch here didn't take up the whole bed."

Eileen blushes and laughs at Dean. "I don't kiss and tell," she winks at Sam as she kisses him on the cheek. "Who wants breakfast?"

"Yes, please!" Sam signs.

Sam joins Dean at the table and a long beat passes between them. Sounds in the kitchen of water running, the clinking of plates, and banging of pans fill the silence instead. Dean repositions himself in the chair, still not making eye contact with Sam. Sam, however, is studying Dean. He appears disheveled, bags under his eyes, day old stubble and crust around his lips from dried whiskey. He's a wreck.

"So this case-" "We need to talk-" They start simultaneously.

Dean glances up for the first time. "You first."

"I know about Cas." Dean's eyes widen slightly. "At least I know there's more to the story. You didn't tell me everything and I know whatever happened is eating away at you." Dean gestures to dismiss Sam. "Dean, I know you. I can see it. I know when you get like this it's because of something close to you." Sam pauses. "I also read some of your crumpled up papers." A dark look crosses Dean's face. Almost like he wants to punch Sam.

"You did what?" Dean says.

Sam continues, ignoring Dean's comment. "I know you're trying to bring Cas back. I want to help," Sam offers.

Dean sighs, looking to the side. He knows the many dead ends and how disappointing it is trying to save Cas. He doesn't want to subject his brother to the very same thing. "It's no use, Sam. Everything is a dead end. I've tried everything I can think of. Cas is gone," Dean resigns, defeated. "All we can do now is save people, hunt things, and live our lives. It's what Cas would want. It's what everyone, who we have lost, would want."

"Dean," Sam starts. "You're giving up way too easily. There is always another way. Don't you always say that?" Dean doesn't respond. "I know how it may seem hopeless but we have options. We have the resources to continue the search to save him. You can't give up now, Dean. This is Cas."

"I've tried everything I can think of, Sam. Everything! Praying, research, calling Rowena. She doesn't answer. Jack is off grid. I've tried! There's nothing. He's gone!" Dean's voice cracks. He swallows down the pain. "We have to accept that. And however I deal with it is my business. So don't give me those judgy eyes like you are now." Dean says pointedly.

"But, Dean-"

"I said no Sam."

Dean gets up, signaling he's done with this conversation and takes the notepad with him. He doesn't even acknowledge Eileen as she brings breakfast to the library. "The case is pulled up on my laptop. I'm going to get ready." Dean turns the corner and is gone before Sam can reply.

Eileen's face falls as she holds a plate of french toast, bacon, sausage, and lots of syrup. Then one plate of regular scrambled eggs with toast for Sam. She sits the plates on the table and watches Dean leave. "Is he not hungry? I made his favorite." She says.  

"It's not that, he's dealing with some, he's just-" Sam doesn't seem to know how to finish his sentence, or fully explain his brother's behavior.

"Cas?" Eileen offers. Sam nods.

Sam reads the case on Dean's laptop and begins to feel nauseated. He has a bad feeling. He, again, has a sense of deja vu. Two days in a row, it can't be a coincidence. It's like there is an itch at the back of his brain, crawling to the surface, wanting to show him something. He feels a headache come on and the pain is similar to when he used to get visions as a young adult. The pain grows stronger as the itch continues, pulling toward his frontal lobe.

Then, a flash of images of Sam and Dean dressed in their normal FBI threads quickly blink by. Another image of them at an abandoned barn fighting some strange, masked creatures. Sam recognizes the mask from Dad's journal. And then a burst of images, showing Sam and Dean fighting these creatures appear. They're vampires! The brothers are winning, slicing the vamp's heads off one after another. The last image shows Dean pushed against something sharp and… Oh no, Dean Sam thinks.

He grabs his head and shakes the images away. Groaning in pain, he sees he's on the floor. He must have fallen while the vision took over. Eileen is at his side, freaked out. She's signing, "Are you okay?" over and over again.

Slowly, Sam regains his thoughts and tells Eileen he's okay. Dean rushes by Sam's side by this point after hearing the loud thud from his fall. Dean places his hand on Sam's shoulder, in concern.

"Dude, what the hell happened? Say something. You alright?" Dean glances over Sam, and around the bunker, checking for any intruders.

"Yea, yea. I'm fine. I feel like I just got hit by a freight train. Like how my visions used to feel." He pauses. "I actually think I just had a vision." Sam looks at Dean with bewilderment and Dean returns the look.

"I'm sorry. Did you just say you had a vision?"

"Yea." Sam breathes.

"You haven't had one of those since you were like in your twenties and yellow eyes was after you. Why the fuck now?"

"I-I don't know. I thought it was a nightmare, but last night the same images played in my mind. I went all day yesterday feeling a sense of deja vu. The pie fest, reading the case, even eating breakfast."

All three are silent for quite a while. Their breakfast grows cold but no one pays it any mind. "What if it's a sign?" Eileen questions.

"Like from God, uh, Jack?" Sam offers.

Dean huffs in response. He knows damn good and well Jack is staying out of everyone's business. There isn't any possibility Jack is interfering. "I doubt it."

"It's possible," says Sam. "Maybe he has taken himself out of the narrative, but what if he's helping us still by guiding us through this vision?"

"He hasn't answered any of my damn prayers since two months ago. Why would he start now?"

"I don't know, change of heart?" Sam offers, half-heartedly.

Dean stands and laughs with a bitter shake of his head. "You honestly believe that? Come on, Sam. The kid has a new sense of almighty. We, you, me and Cas, we are now left in the dust. He said so himself. You're just having some freak migraine."

Sam stands, with Eileen in tow. She helps him up by the arm. "You're wrong. I know he's not like Chuck, and stays away, but he still cares. I know he sent me this vision to help us. All of us," Sam stares at Dean's glare of hopelessness. "I have faith, Dean."

"How can you be so sure? How can you be so positive that this is from Jack and he's trying to help us? Doesn't make a lot of sense that out of all the times I've asked for his help, to save Cas, or help me bring him back, he's now warning you of an ordinary hunt?" Dean says frustrated.

"Because in this hunt you die, Dean," Sam blurts out. Dean stays quiet. "You die and I have to go on without you. You leave me and I have to live a life without my brother."

Dean's gaze falls to the floor. He's quiet for a moment, processing this information. "You live a happy life?" He barely says.

"What?"

"After I die, do you go on having the whole white picket fence, apple pie life with the 2.5 kids?" Dean clarifies, calmly.

Sam searches Dean's face for any kind of sign of self actualization or will to live. "Why does it matter? I can still strive for that with you alive. We both can," he adds.

Dean smiles, that tired, sad smile. "No, Sammy. You and I both know as long as I'm alive you will always be in this life." He looks at Eileen. "You two will never have a chance at a happy, normal life with me around. Besides, hunting is what I do. There is nothing else for me. Not anymore.”

"That's not true," Eileen says, with tears in her eyes. She reaches out and places her hand on Dean's cheek, pleading for him to understand how wrong he is.

"It is. I'm the one that dragged you back into this life, Sam. I'm the only one keeping you here. Let me give you an out."

"Stop. Okay just stop. We are not going on this hunt. If you want to be suicidal, fine, but I'm keeping you out of danger. You are always so quick to jump in front of a gun or blade. Do you still care that little about yourself, Dean?" Sam searches his brother's eyes. "What about that job paperwork on your desk? You must have cared at some point. Wanted to live!" Dean is quiet. Sam sighs. "Cas wouldn't want you to die. He died to save you, remember? So, what I am going to do is bring Cas back. Are you going to help me?"

Dean ponders Sam's offer for a moment. "What about the people that will die, if we don't save them?"

"I'll call some hunters and give them a heads up on what to look out for when they go there. It'll be taken care of," Sam reassures.

Dean glances between Eileen and Sam. Fiddling with a loose string on the end of his flannel sleeve, he sighs. On one hand, he'd love to see Castiel again. He'd do anything- to hug him and tell him all the things he didn't get to say. But on the other hand, he's so tired. So very tired. There are no leads. And he's lost all faith in his search to save Castiel.

"Dean?" Sam starts.

"Okay. Let's bring Cas home."

[miss-choco-chips]

The worst enemy

He throws another vase at the wall, but there’s no one there to pick the broken pieces up. It’s the middle of the night and he feels like he’s going crazy.

“Who are you?!”, he screams at nothing, approaching the mirror and hating the pale face that looks back at him, those intelligent eyes blinking quickly, as if trying to get out of a daze.

He needs to find out who their rat is. Ra’s hasn’t yet, and it’s hurting their position on this war. The enemy has eyes inside their castle, and Tim is left to fend off the plots his faceless opponent comes up with with that intel. It’s tiring, he feels strung along, and there’s little he can do about that.

Warning: There are some possibly triggering subjects being discussed. Nothing too explicit, but just to be sure, I’ll be adding the warnings deep into the tags. Those who think they might be triggered can read the tags, and those who don’t want to risk being spoiled can just avoid it. 

Thanks @iphoenixrising and @the-quiet-carrotcake for giving some parts a read for me. Also tagging @animemangasoul cause you told me you wanted to read this.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Despite his careful consideration and analysis, he couldn't quite put his finger into what bothered him so much, to the point of losing focus. Homesickness, maybe? There was something in the walls, surely. Too clean, no mold or blood splatters in sight. His old home at the Wayne Castle had been cared for, but not even an army of maids could compete with hundreds of years of violent legacy.

As everytime he thought of his life before, pain throbbed behind his eyes. It was momentary, come then gone, but it was enough to make him groan a bit under his breath, the sound echoing in the open (too open, no corners to hide if an assassin came… which was kind of ironic here, he supposes) hallway. He knew there were eyes on him, though. His guard, for one, always two feet behind and one to the side. And he was sure he wasn’t the only one sent to (observe his every move) protect him.

Damn, the headache was getting worse. It was too long until tea time.

“I’ll visit my husband”, he decides out loud, for his shadow’s benefit. A kindness they would never expect from a superior, but that he was sure they appreciated.

The only response came from just behind him. A cut out sound that he couldn't identify, but must have been some sort of laugh. Either that or a pained groan.

Smiling, he twisted to look, hands behind his back as he walked in that fashion.

-What? It’s not gross that a man wishes to meet his beloved. It’s a rare day when we meet outside of dinner or council meetings. I’m not a sap; if anything I’m a paragon of patience. 

The man doesn’t raise to the bait, as he rarely does, but he tilts his head a bit.

“Yer Highness, please mind your step and watch where y’er going. It’ll be my head on the chopping block if you fall and scrape your dainty white hands.”

He rolls his eyes at the jab, but heeds his warning and turns again to look up front. It’s not without truth, after all. 

The part of him dying if Tim were to get hurt, of course. Not about the hands. 

He looks down at them as they walk, a little confused. When did they become so though, so calloused? Sure, he must have learned some sort of self defense back when he was young, but he can barely recall it. His shouldn’t be the hands of someone used to the heat of combat, not sheltered as he had been from his birth to his marriage, and yet…

Nothing good comes from thinking that far back, anyway, he decides, shaking his head to get rid of the annoying thoughts pestering him like flies. He’d only end up giving himself a headache, and then Ra’s would send him back to bed with soup and an army of servants to observe his progress. A small smile tugs at his lips; he sure was lucky to get such a loving, protective partner. It was a wise decision, on his Father’s/

“Yer Highness”, calls the voice from behind, dragging him back from his musings rather forcefully. “We’re here.”

Any thought that’s not his husband completely vanishes from his mind. Smiling automatically, he springs into the room, straight to his husband’s open arms. The green and gold cape closes around them, and everything is okay, certain. He doesn’t feel confused, or worried, or observed. Because he’s with Ra’s right now. How could there be anything bad involved in that?

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“It’s tea time, y’er Highness.”

“Ah, thanks A. I’ll be going then, my Lord. Will I see you at dinner?”

“Of course, Beloved. I just have to deal with those pesky documents and then I’m all yours.”

Tim’s laughter is like bells. It doesn’t feel actually natural, but he’s not forcing it either. It’s weird, how his voice works sometimes.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

It’s a day like any other, when Damian comes to visit. He hasn’t seen his family in quite some time, so when a nameless ninja, covered from head to toe, detaches herself (herself? He’s sure its a her but why?) from the wall and informs him of it, he gathers his royal blue and gold kaftan in a fist so he doesn’t trip and speeds towards the throne room.

So good it’s Damian. He can barely remember Dick’s face, and the Jason from his memories is little more than a broad back, firm shoulders that would carry him all through the palace. Of his sister, he only knows she exists, and that they got along amazingly.

But that’s what loves makes to someone, he supposes. It was bound to happen, more than half a year without seeing them and devoting all his time to think about Ra’s.

But Damian… Damian, he remembers very clearly. Maybe because he can see some of Ra’s in his features, maybe because it was thanks to  him that he could actually marry his beloved King…

(He thinks of ancient portraits hanging from the walls, the eyes of Kings and Consorts of old following one’s steps, as the shadows hidden in passageways behind them take note of his every action)

“Your Highness, you can’t pass”, a figure stops him just before the room where his brother and husband are probably already talking. He accepts this for only a moment, so he can catch his breath, kinda surprised by how easy it is to compose himself again; it hadn’t been a short run.

“Step aside”, he orders, back straight and looking into the man’s mask. Ra’s country wasn’t very keen on knights, not like King Clark's Aupuni La. Even Gotham, while not as honorable, had its fair share of white horseman riding to war with honor on their shoulders (although it still maintained its fair share of ninja-like warriors, their elite and probably the only thing in common with his current home). But Alqatala had only a handful (his own A among them), found more use in the shadows that kept well out of their Master’s view while still blocking anything annoying from reaching him when they could, and fiercely obeying His commands on how to defeat them when they couldn't.

It was reassuring, knowing the entirety of the Kingdom’s fighters would lay down their lives (and anyone else’s) for their King’s sake. That meant Ra’s would be always safe… even if all their subjects had to die for it…

Distractedly, he scratched at the back of his head. Maybe the new hair ornaments were irritating the skin there.

“Your Highness, I’m under strict orders to forbid anyone from/”

“Unless your orders explicitly include me, then you should already know I’m the exception to the rule. Step aside. I won’t ask again.”

This time, the man bows deep and moves. Disobeying his Master could have dire consequences; upsetting his Consort most certainly would. And if he did transgress because of His Highness’s orders, then the King might be forgiving. 

Head held on high, Tim motioned for A to wait outside the room as he entered.

It was an open space, with long drapes of cloth flowing down the walls like waterfalls of red and gold. Golden torches, shining brightly with their perpetually lit fire, reflected the yellow and orange of their flames in whatever bit of wall left uncovered, making the cream colored stones look as if they were also burning down. 

The ground, dark and polished, looked under the fierce light like onix. Maybe it was, Tim had never asked. The flush red carpet, going from the double doors to the steps leading to the throne, completed the feeling of entering some warm, cozy place. 

A had told him once it was like setting foot into Hell. Tim liked to think differently, though he could admittedly see what his guard meant.

Looking up, his gaze landed automatically in his husband, raised above the rest of the room in his throne made of gold and rubies. The opulence suited him, and Tim loved seeing him high and mighty like this.

Agh, his head… He would need to ask A for more tea the moment this meeting was over. Maybe he could share some with Damian?

Suddenly remembering his reason to be there, he drags his eyes away from Ra’s. Jade green ones found his almost immediately, and familiar warmth takes residence in his chest.

“Brother!” he greets, happily, steps quickening until he reaches the young man. Damian has grown a lot in the past six months, as far as he remembers. Taller than Tim, shoulders twice as broad and chiseled jaw, his little sibling was now more a man than a boy, although he’d always be the latter in his eyes.

They hadn’t seen each other since the wedding; when Tim accepted Ra’s suit and became his husband, in exchange of him letting Damian return to his Father, to be Gotham’s Heir. Since he left behind his gold and ruby crown, for the onyx and sapphire one he wore now, black and blue jewels enhacing the paleness of his skin and the shine in his love-ridden eyes.

Damian completely ignores the offered hand, arms instead circling around his slimer frame and crushing him towards his chest. 

“You’re okay”, he whispers. A swallow, then. Like he wanted to keep going but forced himself into silence. 

A little confused, Tim returns the hug, eyes going to his husband over Damian’s shoulder. 

The King watches from above, cold, calculating eyes glued to them. Dread pools in his stomach in automatic response, and he shoves his brother away as careful as possible.

“Where are my manners! Brother, you made me forget myself”, a small smile, as apology, and then Tim makes his way up the steps until he reaches his husband. “ My Lord”, he greets, bowing a bit and then quickly grabbing for his arm. Ra’s allows the touch graciously, the almost hostile look in his eyes nowhere to be seen now.

“Beloved. I’m sure we can forgive your small loss of decorum, in this circumstances. Right, Grandson?”

From beneath them, Damian stays with his back to them (in the exact same place where he hugged Tim) for a beat longer. Then, he turns to face the King and his Consort, and offers them both a bow.

“Of course, your Majesty. Your Highness. The fault lies on myself, as I couldn’t contain my joy, seeing my brother after so long”, he straightens from his courtesy, eyes finding his Grandfather’s in what could both pass as a familial gesture, or a blatant show of disrespect; Tim had to give it to him, the plausible deniability was exquisite. ”So long, in fact, our Lord Father was getting worried some ill fate had befallen him.” 

Tim stills. He can’t ignore the sudden coldness in the room. Almost on instinct, he shifts a bit, so his shoulder is slightly in front of Ra’s, covering him. Unneeded, since there must be a hundred eyes on them now, their shadows ready to jump in and take any hit for their Master.

The gesture doesn't go unnoticed by his husband, though. He reaches down slightly, hand catching Tim’s. Something in him relaxes.

Damian’s eyes tracked the movement, but didn’t comment in it. Not when his last remark had yet to be answered.

“The joy of those recently joined in marriage can be blinding, Grandson. I’m sure your Oldest Brother would be able to tell you as much, with how many times he himself was wed. Timothy and myself just found it hard to part with one another for hours at a time, let alone a week long trip back to his old Kingdom.”

The mention of Dick brought color to Damian’s face; the red of rage. Tim himself felt a bit uneasy, the mention forcing his mind to come up with the face that had become quiet blurry in his memory. Richard. They had gotten along marvelously, hadn’t them? It was quiet weird they hadn’t met lately.

“I would have loved to see Dick”, he interjects, attempting to force them to look his way instead of each other. His smile is wobbly, and Ra’s hand tightens around his, but he maintains steady eye contact until Damian huffs.

“There have been some issues back home”, he informs Tim; and it’s quiet notable, the way he said the last word, as if reminding Tim that his roots laid elsewhere. Not that he cared where he was born, all that mattered to him was where he had bloomed, and that could only be at Ra’s side. “Father required his help. That’s also why I’m here.”

Something moves behind him, but by the time he turns to look at his husband, there’s nothing amiss. Ra’s seems to be deep in thought for a second, before he smiles beatifically at his grandson.

“We can talk more about this at dinner, you must be exhausted from your travels”, he decides, raising a hand. As if on cue, two shadows appear in the room. Only because he had been looking for them, Tim knows they came from under the red drapes hanging from the walls. How many more were there hidden in that place? Well, he thinks, it’s not like he cares to know either way…” Take the guest to his rooms, make sure to attend to his every need. Come now, husband”, Ra’s directs his eyes to Tim, whose insides flip automatically and smiles in thoughtless response, “we might as well spend the afternoon together.”

They descend the steps, hand in hand. Damian still hasn’t moved, head bowed in respect of the monarchs, waiting for them to leave first. The fist he has over his chest shakes a bit.

“Tea in the gardens? Should I ask for refreshments?” he asks, a little dubiously, following without complains. That’s how he usually spends the hours before dinner time…

Ra’s smile changes slightly, from gentle to hunting. He refuses to answer. 

From his face alone, one would guess his husband’s motives were far from chaste; but given that his contract marriage specified Tim was to be untouched until his twenty first birthday, he wasn’t sure why Ra’s was now acting as though he’d ever forgone that particular condition.

They are passing by his brother now, and it's because of that cercany that he can see his knuckles turning white as he hunches even further into himself, a barely refrained gasp. Then he understands.

Before he can stop and ask Damian if he’s okay, reassure him that his Father's orders were being obeyed (in regards of his third son’s marriage treaty, at least), Ra’s is tugging him out of the throne room and towards his own bedchambers. Tim is helpless to his husband’s touch, so he doesn’t resist, but can’t help but turn to him, curious, just before they reach the room.

“Was Damian…?”

“Childish jealousy, I’m sure”, the King dismisses, opening the door for him and closing after they are both inside his anter-chambers. His hand goes to unclasp the brooch keeping his cape steady, removing the garment and taking seat in the low couch in front of the small tea table. “I all but stole you from your family, Beloved. Little siblings tend to yearn after their elders are wed away. I was merely teasing my grandson.”

Tim can’t help but smile in the tea cup a servant hands him, once he’s sat opposite the King. His knight, A, hadn’t followed them inside, but Tim caught flashes of him as Ra’s guided him through the halls, so he knows the man is close by. He relaxes in the knowledge, sweetening his tea a bit before his mind catches up to him.

Why, oh why would he think of A now? He’s with his husband, perfectly safe. Why is the notion of his personal guard being near reassuring him?

Damn this stupid headache. It’s hard to think, and A is not in the room to provide with the painkiller he usually takes at this hour. Unwilling to interrupt his time with his husband by calling his servant, he powers through the pain, smiling at the intense focus being bestowed upon him.

“Damian has grown a lot”, he comments, desperate to distract himself from the throbbing just behind his eyes, “but he’s still a child. Merely sixteen.”

“You are twenty, Beloved”, Ra’s points out, relaxing back into his seat, apparently satisfied with whatever he saw in Tim’s face. “Although I guess you were always the most mature of your brod. The only one worthy enough to stand by my side.”

“My Lord”, he chides softly, looking at him over his cup. Just because it’s hard to remember his family, it doesn’t mean he wishes to hear them spoken down to by his spouse.

“I speak the truth. Are you denying me?”

The question might sound brusc, almost confrontative, but he’s used to those kinds of inquiries by now. As a response, he bows his head a bit, submissive and elegant, neck in display and crown steady over his temple.

“I’d never betray my husband like that.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Dinner goes without a hitch, until the moment Damian mentions their family one too many times and Tim has to excuse himself from the table. Juggling his husband’s mood and keeping his brother from being outright aggressive to such an important monarch was a tiresome duty, one he couldn’t wait to shed.  Before dessert was served, he decided to retire for the evening.

A, loyal and wonderful, had the tea set ready by the time he reached his rooms. The little brown pill carefully placed on a napkin by his cup was even more enticing than the cakes and sweets the chefs must have served Ra’s and Damian.

“How did you know I was hurting?”, he wonders, sitting down in the chair by his balcony, letting the late afternoon breeze comb his hair away from his face.

“You have that look, yer Highness”, answers the man, carefully dropping the pill inside the cup  before handing it to his Master. “Is there anything else I can do for ya?”

The question sounds… charged, somehow. Tim sips his drink. What else would he need right n/?

“Oh”, he blinks, once, twice, then tilts his head up to face his guard. Meeting his eyes over the edge of his facemask, he smiles-. The afternoon feels quite lovely, I’d like to share this moment of peace with my brother. I’m sure he must have long left the dinner table by now, so go extend him my invitation to have tea together.

He can’t be sure, but somehow he just knows A smiled.

He’s careful to pace the drink as he waits. He’s not alone for long.

Damian takes the seat opposite to his, and A is careful to close the balcony doors before the room gets too chilly. The creamy green curtains, white walls and gold ornaments make the entire atmosphere bright, something Gothamites born and raised would despise for it’s unfamiliarity; a wonder that those were the colors painting the room of a noble hailing from those lands. The three of them stay in silence for a while, as the King Consort finishes his cup.

Tim smiles. Damian watches him for a second, before his own smile appears, relieved and more than a bit happy.

“I’m glad to see you doing so well, brother. You had us all worried, back home.”

A soft, almost primly, scoff, “Please. I know how to handle myself, and I’m well protected here. You know I’m never alone.”

Damian dips his head in acknowledgement, but he still doesn’t remove his eyes from him.

“Conflict is brewing”, he goes straight to the point, almost desperate; unsure of how longer will they be able to speak privately. “Father is not willing to look past his transgressions any longer.”

“It won’t reach the Castle.”

“Brother!”

Tim shushes him, letting A refill his cup. No more medicine added, though.

“Damian. Ra’s might be a little… “he doesn’t quite know what to say,” as he is, but he’s by no means dumb. He won’t allow any kind of rebellion to arise in his lands. There will be no war in Alqatala. 

Damian falls silent for a minute. A places a plate of delicious looking cookies in the table, on Timothy’s side. Neither brother makes any move to touch them.

“I’ll confront Grandfather about it, tomorrow”, the tone is almost warning. Tim’s eyes narrow.

“Do remember, brother, which side I’m on.

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he watches in silence as Tim takes a cookie and bits softly into it, maintaining steady eye contact with the younger Prince.

“I suppose this is goodbye, then”, he adds, letting the rest of the desert back on his plate, by his empty cup.” I hate to cut our time together so short, after such a long time apart, but I need to rest now; it’s been such a long day. We’ll see each other soon, I promise. And don’t worry about me, silly little brother”, Tim’s smile came back, a little groggy this time.

Damian left after a shallow bow, escorted by A.

In the dimness of the falling night, Tim placed a careful hand on the glass door leading to the balcony.

...The callouses in his hand were still a mystery. Maybe he should ask his husband, tomorrow. He would know. 

Ra’s knew everything about Tim. He had too, after all. And if he didn’t, Tim would tell him.

That’s what made them such an harmonious pair, after all.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

He’s called to his husband’s study room the following afternoon, long after Damian’s entourage parted from their Castle.

He quickly removes his sleeping camisole (he’d been bedridden all morning, stroke down by a vicious headache) and dones a green and gold Farasha, simple sandals and his crown, no other accessories needed; as the maids helping him dress often tell him, he needs no outer help to enhance his beauty. 

A walks him all the way to where Ra’s is waiting, then bows and swears to wait for him in the hallway. Not exactly his usual behaviour, but Tim can’t waste any brainpower in figuring out his guard, not when he needs to be sharp to attend to Ra’s now.

“My Lord?”, he calls, once inside. The older man is waiting, back to the door, as he watches from the window his Kingdom, buzzing with activity.

“Beloved”, he greets, without turning.” There’s a letter in the desk.”

Tim walks closer, picking the indicated piece of paper curiously.

It’s from Bruce (Father… Dad). 

It’s a complaint, a description of the fate that would befell him if Ra’s were to continue on his current path. A demand of retribution, for all the damage already done. A threat, if a veiled one.

The only mention of Tim on the letter, was to inform Ra’s that having his third son inside the Castle wouldn’t prevent him from seeking to burn it to the ground, would Ra’s ignore his generous warning.

Tim’s insides were cold. His mind screaming at him, ‘he wants to hurt our husband’. A small, almost meek part of him wants to ask about King Wayne’s accusations, but the bigger, devoted side squashes this voice ruthlessly; no threat to his husband would be allowed, not even a justified one.

“Are we going to war?”, he asks, tone dry, hands carefully loose on the paper as to not crass it. Confused. He had tea with Damian the day before, he should have noticed something from him, an indication of the dangers coming. And why hadn’t his brother warned him?

His head hurts.

It’s then that his husband turns to examine him. For a few minutes, he does nothing else than to look at Tim, deeply. He returns the look fiercely, protectively; nothing but desire to help shining through. Cold fire burning in icy eyes.

Ra’s smiles.

“It won’t be much of a war, not with one as you on my side, Beloved. Let’s get to planning, shall we?”

There it is, the reason Ra’s married him in the first place. His strategic abilities, his absolute dominance over any battlefield, overturning the board with a simple swipe of his hand. Winning wars without stepping a foot in any battle.

He never thought he’d be using it against his own Father. But Tim knew where his loyalties laid. 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Tim suggested they sent an ambush as soon as possible, before Damian could leave their lands. To kidnap him, and use as leverage to bring Bruce to heel. With his eldest son refusing the crown, the second lost as far as anyone knew and the third, himself, married away (and to an enemy, now, to boot), Damian was his last heir; he could not afford to lose him.

Ra’s also pointed out the Gotham King’s sentimentalism. Tim, tired and with his head throbbing, couldn’t say if that was truly the case, so he submitted to his husband’s intel and left the study to return to his quarters. Ra’s would assemble his own team to send post haste to retrieve the young Prince before he could cross the Alqatala border.

“Tea, yer Highness?” 

“Thank you, yes.”

A few sips, before Tim tilts his head to the side.

“A? You know this young guard who switches places with you during the night, when you rest?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Do call her, please. I need her to fetch something for me.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“I have bad news, Beloved.”

That wasn’t what he expected to hear, the second he saw his husband. Weary, he sat in front of Ra’s desk, the cushioned back of the opulent chair helping soothe his uneasiness.

“What happened?”

“My Grandson has apparently grown some brains the last few months; he switched routes, and exited Alqatala by the eastern woods, instead of through the southwestern river he used to come.”

“That trip is twice as hard, why would he choose it?”, the second he spoke, he knew the answer. ”It’s harder to track someone there, than by water. You can see a ship from a long distance, but there’s multiple hiding spots between the trees.”

“That’s what I thought, as well. I sent some of my best trackers to follow, but I have no true expectations of them succeeding; Damian was raised to know those woods like the palm of his hand. Such a rich education, wasted in that boy”, Ra’s laments. Tim moves on instinct walking to stand behind his chair and placing his hands on the older man’s shoulders.

“Damian would not actually expect us to move so soon”, he rationalized, “nor would he know where our people was waiting to ambush him. His change of tracks is more than a little too well timed. 

“Are you suggesting we have a rat, Beloved?”

Tim shrugs a little, helplessly ”I think I would remember Damian being wary. We had tea before he left, but I didn’t notice anything unusual. He must have not suspected us of being capable of that, back then. Someone must have alerted him to our intentions.”

Ra’s looks to be deep in thought. He turns a little to face Tim, who returns his look of seriousness with one of his own.

“I’ll weed out this traitor, My Lord. I can’t allow those kinds of pests around you.”

His husband smirks a little.

“I will be the one doing that, Beloved. You focus on forming a new strategy, and we’ll discuss it at dinner tonight. Show me I made the right choice, taking you as mine.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The vase crashed against the wall, and a waterfall of flowers and porcelain fell over the carpet. A maid rushed to clean up, but Timothy paid her no mind, despite the small thread of guilt twisting in his stomach.

The reports over his table spoke for themselves. Territory battles won by the smallest margin, spies derailed from their targets by very convenient distractions, specialized assassins caught and jailed before completing their tasks.

Someone good was working against them.

Tim knew, intellectually, that Bruce was a smart man. But not this kind of smart, not this quickly. There was a new player on the board, and it wasn’t on his side. 

“A”, he called, almost growling. The man stepped out of the shadows enclosing the corners of the room, “bring me parchment and paper. I have suspicions on their next move, and I have to alert our troops against them.”

The man hesitated a bit.

“Yer Highness you… don’t look well. Should I bring you tea?”

Tim waved a hand, “After I send this missive. There’s no time to delay.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Their next strike was more successful than all their previous attempts. Ra’s had been incredibly pleased, seating Tim on his lap during dinner and feeding him carefully crafted delicacies and praising his Consort’s flawless strategy. They had managed to capture one of King Wayne’s favored warriors, General Brown. Her troops had been slim, and most of them fled at the overpowered sight of Ra’s people, so only she and few loyal soldiers had been caught.  They would rott the dungeons until Ra’s needed to negotiate, or decided to execute them as an example for those who thought of going against him. Tim was pretty sure it’d be the first case, though. Brown was too valuable to just off.

The small victory tasted all the sweeter to him when no reports came from this mysterious figure trumping all his previous attempts. Hopefully, this meant they were all the more closer to winning this war without any big loses, as they’ve managed to do until now.

Later, he’s in his rooms and A brings his tea, but no food. It’s okay, Timothy is not hungry. He just drowns the entire cup before springing to his feet, gathering some documents and hiding them under his white shirt, tucked into his slim, open sided, black harem pants.

“Take me to the dungeons”, he demands, hastily throwing on a cape, “I believe it’s time I interrogate the prisoners.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Ra’s is lounging in cushions and silk when Tim finds him, a few hours later. He beckons him in, a single finger crooked and a side smile.

Slowly, almost reluctant, Tim sits, his back to Ra’s, and rests his weight on the man. He can feel the strong arms going around his waist, but can’t see his face.

“Is everything alright, Beloved?”

Tim sags against him, hiding his face in the man’s shoulder. He, in turn, rests his chin above his hair, moving the crown around to make space. Tim can feel him smelling his hair and shivers a little. Ra’s hands tighten in response.

“Yeah”, he whispers. Wetting his lips a bit, he tries again, “Yes, I just came from the dungeons. General Brown… I went to see her. Try to get some information.”

The arms stiffen a bit, half a second, before the man relaxes again.

“And?”

“She seemed willing to talk, at first. I think it was the shock of seeing a familiar face”, he touches his own cheek a bit, then lets his hand fall over Ra’s wrist, carefully tracing his pulse point. “I think we were quiet close, back then.”

“Not anymore?”

A delicate shrug, “Not since I married you, My Lord. I choose my side, and so did she. As soon as she remembered we’re in different fronts on this war, she became quite tight lipped.”

Ra’s hums, hand reaching for the tray set by his side. Picking up a chocolate covered something, he offered it to the boy in his arms, smiling when he felt the soft lips closing around the food, almost kissing Ra’s palm where it laid.

“I believe she’ll start to rethink her decision, once a few more of her friends join her in the dungeons. I trust your preparations are going well?”

Timothy relaxed even further in his arms.

“Yes, My Lord. I’ve written some instructions for our people rounding on Sargeant Gordon and his daughter”, he explains, taking the mentioned papers out of his white sleeve” I’ll send the letter tomorrow after checking in some details, and by afternoon, if it all goes according to plan we’ll have two more guests joining General Brown. That means I won’t be accompanying you for lunch, My Lord.”

Ra’s reads the information carefully, and can’t help but squeeze his pretty little genius closer to his chest. Stealing him from his Father had been the wisest of his choices. Giving up his grandson in exchange was by all means a perfectly acceptable loss.

“Do tell your servant to fetch you something to eat, my dear. It won’t do to have my best strategist fall to his own ambitions and starve.”

Looking up at his husband, with the chocolate covered fruit still dancing around his closed mouth, Tim smiled.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Over the course of the next few weeks, Timothy’s life became a whirlwind of reading reports, scheming strategies and meeting his husband to inform him of any progress- or loss. 

They managed to capture young General Duke Thomas, Sargent Kane and General Gordon. Sergeant Gordon, the woman’s father, had escaped unscathed though, by a well timed counter attack that Tim was still unsure how they enemies had devised. 

His new sworn enemy, Wayne’s strategist, was no doubt behind any little rock in his path. Any setback, any mistake. This mysterious person seemed to be always one step ahead, and even Tim’s hard won victories sometimes seemed like they were a gift, an allowance. Ra’s didn’t seem to mind, more than happy with their slowly growing dungeons and Tim’s efforts, so he was reluctant to inform him of his fears; least the King started to regret marrying him in the first place.

He throws another vase at the wall, but there’s no one there to pick the broken pieces up. It’s the middle of the night and he feels like he’s going crazy.

“Who are you?!”, he screams at nothing, approaching the mirror and hating the pale face that looks back at him, those intelligent eyes blinking quickly, as if trying to get out of a daze.

He needs to find out who their rat is. Ra’s hasn’t yet, and it’s hurting their position on this war. The enemy has eyes inside their castle, and Tim is left to fend off the plots his faceless opponent comes up with with that intel. It’s tiring, he feels strung along, and there’s little he can do about that.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“How are our guests faring?”

“Still haven’t as much as pipped, yer Highness.”

“I trust you’ve been exploring all your options while asking.”

“I’m...being very thorough. Maybe if yer Highness went…”

“I don’t know, A… Between the planning and these damn headaches that keep getting worse…”

“Should I bring the medicine?”

“Yes, do that…”

He scribbles orders for his men in parchment, gets so lost in the action he barely notices his servant’s return, merely accepting the cup with the sweet beverage when it’s offered to him.

“I’m not making any real progress like this… You are right, I do need to interrogate them myself. We’re going to the dungeons.”

“Yes, yer Highness.”

“And… be sure it doesn’t reach my husband’s ears. That place is so grim and dirty, and I wouldn't want to… worry him.”

“Yes, yer Highness. This way.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

When Ra’s orders Tim’s secondary guard to bring him to the throne room in the middle of the night, he’s on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Sleep has been a luxury he can’t quite gift himself with, and his plans don’t seem to be achieving anything. Maybe… Maybe his husband was cross with him. Maybe he meant to… dispose of him.

What he’s not expecting, is seeing A’s kneeling form, bruised and curling into himself, in the ground in front of Ra’s throne steps. 

“What is the meaning of this? My lord? Why is my servant here?”, he worries, rushing to the man’s side. A might have been taking care of him under orders, but he had done it wonderfully, and Tim really appreciated his willingness to run back and forth fetching him medicine, tea and food when the pain got too unbearable, or just keeping him company as he raged at his mysterious strategic enemy.

“Don’t”, comes the order from above, cold and final, just when his hand is hovering over a obviously dislocated shoulder. Tim looks at his husband with hundreds of questions in his eyes, but the man answers just one. “Rats shouldn’t be blessed by the touch of the Royal Consort, Beloved.”

Tim shakes his head minutely, taking an automatic step away from A’s form. The guard, his knight, doesn’t even raise his head to look back at him. Tim wishes he did, so he could read the truth in his keppel colored eyes.

But his husband has already told him, hasn’t he? A’s testimony is of no worth, when the King himself is condemning him of treason.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

It’s hours later, when Tim decides to go down to the dungeons once more. He picks Ra’s discarded cape from the ground by the bed and wraps it around him, gathering strength from his husband’s scent.

This... had been their first night together, and Tim laments it was under such painful circumstances. Betrayed by his closest aide, the one who had stayed by his side from the second Tim had married into the Al Ghul’s family, he had all but fallen into Ra’s arms while he watched the guards drag A away, to be questioned at a later date. Down to the dungeons, with every other enemy he had caught.

He hadn’t caught A, though. He had somehow completely missed the man sneaking information out, when said man was always a mere step away from Tim’s own shadow.

Ra’s had been perfect, in the face of his Consort’s distress. He had half escorted half carried Tim out of the room and into his own chambers. Plied him with wine (the same bottle Tim had gifted him what seemed like a lifetime away, but was just the previous night; still closed, but fresh), sharing a cup at first and then exchanging the liquid from mouth to mouth. He had gathered him into his arms, carried him to bed, and made him forget. Making him yield his body as well as his mind to his whims, dominating every inch of him; their pre nuptial contract all but forgotten in the face of such passion. Who would tell Bruce, anyway? And, even  if his father knew, they were at war with the man. 

Tim had sobbed, after it was all done with. His husband was obviously a gifted lover, and during their shared passion, he had made him drop any thought of his friend; but the second he went to sleep by his side, Tim’s eyes started to water by their own accord. 

A had betrayed him.

This stung worse than he could have expected. He needed to see A again, before Ra’s interrogated and later executed him. He… he needed to ask why.

The hallways seemed too deserted, tonight. He could usually catch a glimpse of a shadow sneaking just by the edge of his vision, something moving too fast to properly identify, but slow enough to be sure of its presence. There was none of that. No silent footsteps, no servant hurrying along in a chore, no visiting noble straying from his room in search of a nocturnal thirst with a maid. No eyes following from the portraits on the walls.

It was too quiet. The kind of quiet that makes one step lightly and breath as shallowly as possible, to keep from making any noise that would disturb it, draw attention to it. The kind that made him signal his guard to walk closer to his back, so the barely noticeable warmth of her presence could sooth his already frayed nerves.

The stairs to the dungeon were barely better. The sounds of chains shaking and rats scurrying around brought a light frown to his face. He suddenly wished to be back by his husband’s side, in the comfortable bed, protected by his arm around his waist.

But he needed to power through. A was just a few cells over, and he wouldn't be able to sleep without his answers.

The man is chained down, both at his ankles and wrists, as per the costum when one of their own goes rouge. Their training too intensive, too dangerous,  to leave them to roam freely, even within a cell.

He’s awake, through, despite his wounds. And he’s sitting in the middle of his ‘room’, facing the door. Facing Tim, when he came into sight.

...had he been awaiting him?

“Hey, Timmy.”

The uncharacteristic, carefree call snaps him out of it. Suddenly outraged (both at this man, so calm in his dishonored state, and at himself for being so affected by the situation; he was a King’s Consort, he needed to get it together!), he gathered himself to his full height and did his best to look down at the seated man, fists gathering Ra’s cape tighter around his shoulders, trying to pass it as some sort of royal garment, to get the extra confidence boost.

“It seems your short time in captivity has already started playing tricks on your mind, to make you believe you can address me this way. Or perhaps the certainty of your execution has made your tongue looser. It would not help your situation, but if you prove yourself useful a last time, I might consider appealing to my husband’s mercy.”

A tilted his head. Tim couldn't see his face, half hidden by the mask, half by his hair, but he knew him well enough to read the curiosity in his posture.

“Whose orders are you obeying?”

The young knight stared at him in silence for a bit, before shrugging.

“Yours, yer Highness.”

Tim couldn't help but scoff, crossing his arms and thus allowing the cape around him to part in the front.

“I certainly didn’t command you to betray my trust.”

If A had a response to that, it was halted by the sight of the King’s Consort still in his sleep camisole, hastily thrown over before heading there. The thin fabric did little to hide his neck, where the marks of tonight’s love encounter with his husband were painfully obvious, skin too pale to hide the almost purple signs of ownership.

“I’m sorry you went through that, yer Highness”, he whispered, shoulders slumping and head tilted down for the first time during their conversation.

It was cold in the dungeons, and that’s why Tim closed the cape around him again. Not to hide his marks and sudden vulnerability.

He thought, distractedly, that they must be giving an amusing show to the other captives, for them to be so quiet.

“I can assure you”, he answers dryly, ”that being loved by my husband is no hardship at all. Not like the ones you have coming for you.”

“I would disagree”, his voice sounds deeply pained, and resigned.

A throb behind his eyes made him squeeze them shut. He felt more than heard his silent shadow stepping closer, one hand supporting his arm as the other offered the small pill Ra’s had gotten for him to help his headaches, as well as a flask of something to down it with.

He held both the pill and the silver container in his hands, eyes never leaving A’s figure, suddenly a hundred times more attentive.

“You gonna take it, yer Highness?”

He hums, rolling the brownish pellet between thumb and forefinger.

“I always seem to have a muddled mind, after I do. And I think I want to remember this conversation, A. If that’s really your name.”

“’s not.”

“Are you going to tell me what it really is? Or what “A” stands for?”

“I’m a gothamite”, replied the man, who was suddenly a lot more talkative. Maybe afraid Tim would take his medicine and go sleep it off, taking with him his only chance of getting a more merciful judgement, “born and raised. But unlike all those whinny, dumb witted lords you’ve probably met, I hail from the streets. The darkest parts of the city, where only the most crooked and twisted reside. Where the monsters hide, ‘cause what’s on the street ‘s a thousand times more scary than ‘em. The slums of Arkham spit me out, half chewed and poisonous but still alive despite it all. And from there, I took my name. So I’d never forget, while I’m here, where do I came from.”

“And you still became a knight, a pawn, under the command of someone smart enough to fool even me?”, he scoffs, hand tightening and almost crushing the pain relief- They would only use you and discard you.  No, not even that, since we will be the ones doing the job. If you tell me who gave you your orders I… I can give you leniency.”

“I won’t.”

“Not even if…” he hates saying this, shouldn’t be promising it without talking it out with his husband first, but if there was a chance of catching this slippery strategist… “I spare your life?”

A only shook his head. Tim felt unsteady on his feet.

Who would even care, he thinks, before letting himself fall, sitting on the other side of the bars keeping A locked. The prisoners’ opinions weren’t important, and his shadow would not tell anyone else of Tim’s momentary weakness.

(How was he so sure of her loyalty? Why was he so despairing of A’s, his traitorous Arkham Knight, betrayal?)

“You look to be in pain, yer Highness. The medicine…”

Tim threw the goddamned pill as far away as he could, fierce eyes boring into the man.

“Why do you act as though you care for my well being? You surely didn’t when you sold me out to my enemy.”

A sighed, “The only enemy here, ‘s the man whose cape ye’r using to fend off the cold.”

“That man…!”, he stops himself, gathering his composure like one might sand between their fingers, hoping it’d be enough to get a hold of himself. He tried again. “That man is my Lord and Husband.”

“Oh Lord above, I’m so sick of this”, moaned A, leaning back into his hands and looking at his cell’s ceiling. “Yer Highess… Tim. What about we make a deal?”

“With a traitor?”

“With the only viable informant you have.”

He didn’t answer. Curious, despite himself, but unwilling to give him the satisfaction of inquiry. 

A didn’t seem to mind and straightened his back before crawling towards the bars, until he was pressed flush against them, chains clattering when they collided with the cold metal of his cage.

“If you can figure out who my master is from the clues you have, I’ll… help you fight your enemy.”

“If I could figure that out by myself, don’t you think I would have already?”, he frowns, but there’s no deceit in A’s eyes. Not that it would do he any favors; helpful or not, the only thing Tim had to lose here was time. Unsure, he decided to focus on this puzzle he had at hand.

“Think about yer hands. Think about your home, your true home, not this pit of snakes and lies. Think ‘bout… family. Why are you here?”

He didn’t want to. Those were the kind of questions that always brought forth the headache. But, he supposes, he is already in pain. What is a little more?

He turns the silver flask (that he almost forgot he still had) in his hands, thumbing the engravings on it as his mind wandered.

He was here because Ra’s had wanted to marry him, because he fell in love with Tim when/

...When?

No, that wasn’t right. Tim had made the choice, because… Ra’s had Damian captive. He had sent a letter offering an exchange…

No. Damian’s mother, Crown Princess Talia. She had asked Father… Bruce, for help. But… she had been the one who helped Ra’s take Damian in the first place…

Why had Tim offered marriage? There must have been multiple alternatives, more than one way to get his brother back. 

He loved Ra’s, that was why. Or so he thought.

He remembers… denials. Shouts. And a calm, detached voice explaining itself. Explaining…

As a lightning striking a tree and bruning it to ashes, all came flooding back into his mind. 

His hands. His home, his family.

The night before his wedding.

A cup of wine, left by Ra’s servants so he could settle his nerves before the next day’s ceremony, held tightly and steadily in his hands.

He wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t confused. He wasn’t in love.

A cloaked figure in the darkness of his rooms, ice blue eyes staring deeply into his. 

“I’m your worst enemy”, it said, cold like the iron of his Father’s blade, and twice as sharp. 

Tim recognized it then, who it was. 

The bane of Ra’s existence. The mysterious strategist. A’s master. 

A young man, eyes burning blue fire, standing among shadows in front of a mirror.

The fog raised from his mind, as did his hand when he took a long sip of his flask. The sweetness of the beverage brought a grin to his face, as the headache faded into oblivion. No pill needed, after all.

Still shaky but feeling finally in control, he climbed back to his feet. A, on the other side of the cell, did the same, face unsure and searching. 

Cassandra, his shadow, reappeared from within them. Taking one quick look at his face, her now unmasked one brightened. She held a number of keys among her swift fingers, stolen from the no doubt unconscious guards upstairs. 

“...Yer Highness?”

Tim laughed, unbridled. A devious smirk played on his lips as he watched Cass set to work.

“Formalities don’t suit you, brother.”

Jason’s eyes widened in surprise, before savage glee lightened them. He held his hands before himself, patiently waiting for their sister to open his cell and free him.

“About damn time, Timmy.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Tim had told Damian not to worry, a long time ago. No bloodshed would flood the streets where he grew up, no hard working servant or innocent peasant would see themselves tangled in the throes of war.

There’d be no war in Alqatala. Because they were going to take it from the inside.

The walk back to Ra’s rooms was done in half the time it took before. Movement all around him as all the prisoners, his people, were set free to take care of whatever of Ra’s soldiers remained in the castle after Tim sent the majority of them to fight an empty battle. He saw Stephanie’s men subduing the less strong warriors, as she and Cass took the better trained ones. Jason was carrying Barbara in his arms, probably headed to wherever Dick and his troops were waiting, somewhere just outside the castle, to act as reinforcements. Duke, Kate and their soldiers, helping the wounded and escorting the enemies to the dungeons that not too long ago housed them.

Tim didn’t focus on any of them, though. He had another matter to attend to. 

When he reached the Royal chambers, he saw exactly what he expected; Ra’s, fully dressed, standing at his balcony and observing the figures dancing below. His enemy’s troops taking hold of his kingdom as peacefully as a coup could ever be.

The wine had been chosen primarily because it’s sleepy quality was one he had gotten resistant against, after months of Jason providing him with it. So that Ra’s would be affected and sleep the night away, while Tim got his memories back and could take the last step of his carefully organized plan.

The second, less pressing (but almost more rewarding) reason was spite: the first dose of the drug Ra’s has plighted him with, all those months ago, had been in the wine he was served before their wedding.

But it wouldn't keep a man like his husband, old and well versed in trickery, down for long. Tim had only hoped for enough time to free his allies.

And he had gotten it.

“Beloved. I imagined you halfway through the land, eager to be back in your people’s arms.”

“Don’t insult either of us like this. You know I need to see this done, and I don’t trust anyone else with this particular task.”

“To take me down?”

“To properly gloat, more like it.”

“Now you are the one taking us both for fools. You don’t gloat. It’s unbecoming.”

Tim shrugs, cape flowing behind him as he steps out by Ra’s side, looking down as well.

For weal or woe, those were their subjects.

“You don’t think I deserve it?”

Ra’s does the elegant, royal version of a snort.

“More than anyone, dear one. It was masterfully played, I have to admit. I could find no cracks in your acting.”

Tim turns, back to the balcony edge. The venomous green eyes meet his, then. King and Consort, truly face to face for maybe the first time in months.

They should, by all means, be fighting. But Tim is under no delusions; he knows Ra’s physical strength is greater. His aim is to entertain him long enough for reinforcements to reach them.

Why Ra’s decided to humour him, he wasn’t sure.

“There was no act, Ra’s. Not truly.”

“As much as the thought warms my heart, Beloved, I don’t think you love me. Not like the drug intended. How, pray tell, did you manage to avoid it? I’ve seen you eating food coated in it. Sometimes, by my own hand.”

Tim just raises his flask to him.

“Your only mistakes were taking Damian prisoner, and kidnapping our people to serve under your crown.”

If he was annoyed by Tim derailing his answer, he didn’t show it. Seemingly content to play along, Ra’s gave his words proper thought.

“The first brought you into my castle, taking a vital player from the enemy’s board, the latter gave me the opportunity I needed to go to war with your father. I don’t see anything to regret there.”

Tim took another sip of the tea, now cold, that Cass had filled the bottle with.

“And your greatest overview”, he continued, “what you should have suspected from the first moment, was this:”- the drink inside the flask sloshed when he raised it-” I despise tea.

“I fail to see how this all ties together. Indulge me, dear one? Our time with each other is coming to an end, after all.”

Tim was all for gaining time. And maybe a little part of himself wanted to boast a bit, too.

“When Talia came back to her senses, after the drug you used on her to make her take Damian to you wore out, she came seeking for help to set him free.”

A yell, somewhere far away. Clash of metal and fire in the distance; Ra’s troops were back from their empty mission, straight into Harper and Cullen’s awaiting forces.

“Barbara is most likely the best alchemist out there. With Lady Thompkins’ help, she made an antidote”, another sip. “It goes perfect with tea, disgusting as it is. And Jason, taken for dead and rescued by Talia all those years ago, who nursed him back to health under your own roof without you being the wiser, already had a perfect cover built here. He just needed to say he’d been on a mission to explain the time he’d spent between leaving Talia’s care and me coming here, and then volunteer to care for me. And my sister’s presence can only be noticed by those she wants to; your men had no chance to spot the two enemies among their ranks.”

Under them, the innocents in Alqatala were hanging white bed sheets and clothes out of their windows. A beg to be spared, and show of surrender. From up there, it looked like dots of victory splashed in the canvas of a won over Kingdom.

“I could never act like I was in love with you, for months, and be perfectly convincing. And the only way you’d let me even smell the ink on your important documents was if you believed me completely besotted. So I’d take your drugs each breakfast, and break out of their power with my afternoon tea. Give out orders, converge with my spies, and then eat your food again so I’d be in perfect condition for dinner. If I could help it, each moment spent in your presence had to be drugged stupid. As a side effect of taking the drug is memory loss, every proof of my treasonous acts were hidden from my stupid, submissive, deeply-in-love other self. Truly, it was perfect. Except the headaches from taking so many corrosive substances, so often. Those were a pain to deal with.”

That wasn’t, of course, the only consequence of mixing powerful drugs. His colds were harsher and more recurrent than ever, and he feared the approaching winter with genuine horror, but that was information his enemy didn’t need to have.

Ra’s threw his head back and laughed. It was a hearty laugh, from deep within his chest and charged with unexpected affection. Tim tilted his head, and was taken back when his husband stretched his hands to pull the cape closed over his chest, fastening it with an emerald and gold pin.

“I do have a question”, he forces himself to say, unwilling to blush when Ra’s hands accidentally (or maybe not so much) bumped into one of the marks still fresh in his neck.

“You’ve answered mine, Beloved, so go ahead. Marriage is a give and take, after all.”

The irony wasn’t lost. 

“When things started to go wrong in this war, when attacks didn’t reach and our troops failed by a hair… you are not stupid. You must have known the enemy under your roof, the one planning your strategies, was the most likely cause. Why not kill me?”

Ra’s laughed again. Something in Tim’s stomach twitched.

He had won here. So why did it feel like Ra’s had been the one to take the treasure?

“We both agreed to this game, when you accepted my suit and we got married.”

“I was the one who suggested/”

“Shh, dear one. You could have backed out, told your family you regretted your choice, and no one would have blamed you. But you took the drugged wine that night, fully aware of the dangers it contained. You blushed during our wedding, and shed a tear when I took your hand and sat you on my throne to receive your crown. The stakes were high, higher than anything any of us could imagine, and you still decided to risk it. Had I discovered your siblings and drove them out, there’d been no one left to fed you the antidote that allowed this entire operation to begin with. Or I could have chosen to dismiss you to an abandoned wing of the palace, happy enough after taking you from your family and thus removing their most dangerous player, without the risk of giving you power.” 

Tim’s throat felt dry. Ra’s thumb pressed in the mark one last time, before he drew his hands away and clasped them behind his back. His eyes as he watched Tim were warm on the surface, but there was an underlying of want under them that made him nervous. The intensity rivaled the one he had felt when they shared bed and love just hours ago.

“You played the game beautifully, played by the rules, and still won. Killing you without proof, with only my suppositions, right as they might have been, would have been like admitting defeat.” 

“You still lost”, he bites out, hand unclasping the pin keeping the cape tight and letting it fall to the ground behind him, green and gold silk against dark stone.

Ra’s smile became wicked. No warmth left.

“Had I killed you when I first suspected you”, he whispers, stepping closer, and this sudden intimacy makes Tim shiver, but not from pleasure. “I would have missed the opportunity you gave me tonight. And I got a taste of the full extent of your power, Beloved.”

He closed the distance between them, hands on his shoulders to keep him still. Too shocked to even try to get away, Tim almost forgot to blink.

He had expected rage. He had expected disdain. He had expected a sword to the gut.

He hadn’t expected respect, admiration and desire, hot and piercing like a knife still red from the forge.

Ra’s breath, sweet from the wine and warm against the cold of the night, brushed his cheek as his husband bent closer.

“How marvelous it was, to witness you fight against yourself. Are you the only foe you consider worthy of your attention? Can anyone else come close to even challenge your cunning mind?”

Too late, Tim heard the footsteps approaching their location. His brothers, most likely, here to help him take care of Ra’s.

The beautiful dagger sliding into his body felt almost sensual, intimate. Like he was being touched by a lover, instead of steel. He shivered all the same, the gasp escaping his mouth making Ra’s draw a deeper breath. 

His laugh, this time, was low. Private, just between them.

“Do make sure you don’t die from this. I’ll come for you one day, and I expect a proper confrontation then. No more masks between us, dear one. Next time it’ll be just you and me, your force against mine, and my price for trouncing one as enthralling as yourself will be to properly own you, from that day and all the ones that’ll follow.”

When Ra’s hands left him, Tim fell to his knees. He heard the door slamming against the wall and his brothers’ voices, their shouts and curses as they rushed to his aid.

“Until then, my Consort.”

He saw him jumping down, to a certain death if it were anyone else, but could not make a move to follow. The knife had pierced something, he could tell, and the blood soaked his white nightgown and the green cape, still on the floor under him.

It was Dick (Oh gods, Dick, how had he missed his oldest brother, how painful had it been to forget his smile, scent and fierce protection) who gathered him in his arms, his desperate calls that made him snap out of the pain. He barely caught sight of Jason and Damian running to the balcony edge and looking down, then yelling orders to the men that had followed them into the room.

Ra’s had escaped.

But he would not stay away for long, he knew. His last words were both a threat and declaration of intent. It was a new war, one where Tim wouldn’t be fighting for him and against himself. Now, he would depend only on his wits and resources. There’d be no master plan carefully laid and enveloped in deceit. It’d be an all out war, two predators hunting each other, where losing meant death for Ra’s, and for Tim...something even worse.

Ra’s was coming.

Well, Tim thought, closing his fingers around the silver hilt of the dagger, his brothers worried voices fading into nothing as consciousness began to waver, let him come.

I’ll be waiting, my husband.

[tornrose24]

What’s the use of feeling? (Red Diamond AAU drabble)

(Contains mentions of abuse.)

(Also, we still have yet to meet this mystery sister in the series, so I don’t know what her actual personality is supposed to be like. Also thank god for YD’s helmet since that’ll help everyone imagine their version of the sister for this).

Original Gem AU (as well as zircon!George, sapphire!Harold, and peridot!Melvin) belongs to angerydj.

Alexandra belongs to me.

All of Homeworld knew that the Diamond siblings were like night and day. Yellow Diamond was cold, focused, and rarely showed a soft side, while Blue Diamond was more easy going, yet could be alarmingly harsh if he needed to be. Yellow Diamond only surrounded herself with trusted allies, while Blue Diamond took on a female jasper as a wife and they each had a hand in creating their own child. It was universally agreed that they were both better rulers than the long deceased Red Diamond, yet like any siblings, they too had their issues with each other behind closed doors.

“I thought I told you to stop coming here, Blue!” Yellow Diamond snapped at her brother upon finding him in a red hued chamber where numerous gems were bubbled.

“I understand, but...” Blue Diamond sighed. In a moment of weakness, he found his older brother’s destroyed palanquin on Earth, reflected on times long lost to him, and ended up speaking with a human who somehow found her way to it. Surprisingly, she showed no fear towards him and seemed to empathize with his loss of a loved one. He was so moved by her compassion that he couldn’t help but take her to the human zoo out of a need to protect at least something good that came from Red Diamond’s planet.

Little did he know that the same human and her daughter were hiding in that very same room, trying to look for a way out while staying out of the diamonds’ sight.

“You not only insist on keeping the zoo around, but you still haven’t bothered to shatter any of these gems!” Yellow Diamond scowled at the bubbled gems. “All of them were subjects who rebelled against him or did nothing to aid him!”

“I know but they’re still among the last we have of Red.” Blue Diamond took a random bubble and examined it–it was hard to tell what gem was inside it at his current size. “I don’t think he’d want us to get rid of them.”

Both Edith and Alexandra stared in shock at all the bubbled gems. There were perhaps hundreds of them–how long had they been like this?

“What are you talking about?!” Yellow Diamond snapped. “Our brother never cared about anyone but himself! Sure he might of wanted to spare the humans at one point, but we both knew he’d just want some as pets! That’s why we made the zoo, which we only kept around for experiments that failed! A lot of gems on Earth made it clear that he was a terrible ruler, and many of them were his enemies! So why would he go out of his way to want to save those who failed him?! He deserved to be called a monster and you know it!”

“You and I know that’s only because Mother–!” Blue Diamond began to snap, but stopped himself. Red Diamond may have been created first, but White Diamond saw him as someone to torture and humiliate for reasons not clear to him or Yellow. There was no way Red’s behavior was completely his own fault... or so Blue wanted to believe.

Alexandra felt her mom’s grip on her shoulder tighten up. She looked up to see her mother looking unusually angry and there was a flash of pain in her eyes as she overheard the diamonds. She touched Edith’s hand, causing the woman to flinch and realize where she was before they could continue their escape.

Yellow sighed and pinched her nose. “What’s the use of feeling, Blue?” She asked. “You  want to employ those subjects who destroyed him? Yes we miss him, but you have other things to worry about. You have a purpose to focus on–the sapphire has clarity, an agate keeps others in line, a lapis terraforms, and even your own son was given a purpose.”

Ah yes, Blue Diamond’s son. Yellow Diamond never liked the entitled brat–he was given to Red Diamond as a way to try to help him out on Earth. But Blue Diamond spoiled the jasper and Red Diamond let the young gem do as he pleased, only for the gem to get humiliated by members of the rebellion and end up in Yellow Diamond’s court. Jasper came to her with bubbles containing gems who were supposedly the families of at least two members of the rebellion and expected a promotion (he didn’t get it and of course threw an embarrassing tantrum that would have made a toddler gem’s look tame in comparison). She sent him to aid an insufferable little peridot, but had no clue why he hadn’t come back yet.

If Blue had more better behaved children, or if Red had showed interest in having any, she would have loved the idea of being an aunt. Instead she shook off those thoughts and tried to face the present. “You need to be a leader and focus on a plan of attack.” She continued. “Look forward, don’t look back!” She ripped the bubbled gem from Blue Diamond’s grasp and tossed it away.

Neither diamond saw the bubble head right towards Alexandra and Edith. It bounced where it landed and almost on instinct Alexandra couldn’t help but grab it.

Blue grimaced and turned away, which only angered his sister. “You think you’re the only one whose still mourning?” Yellow snapped. “Not a day goes by that I regret that we caved in and let him have Earth. But do you see me moping about it all the time? So tell me why? What’s the use in feeling–?” Yellow Diamond couldn’t help but remember in that moment–giving him the planet as if trying to shut up an annoying toddler. Once upon a time she had loved him dearly, but after White Diamond pushed him too far–

“What’s the use in feeling?”

She clutched the edge of the railings of the chamber as memories she tried to bury threatened to overcome her.

Those memories of times she and Blue watched Red getting pelted with various objects at the command of White for doing things that displeased her. The taunting that he’d always be a failure every time he tried to please their mother. Him screaming as he was dragged to that tower with no windows for being out of line while she and Blue did nothing out of fear for angering their mother. Him gradually lashing out and tyrannical over others because it was all he had when there was nothing to rule over for him. Him throwing fits that she’d respond back with indifference or with harshness because she had no clue how to else to respond.

“What’s the use in feeling?”

Those memories of times when she should have turned her focus on helping Red Diamond properly heal or help him get back to the once happy gem that he had been in her earliest memories. Instead she and Blue focused on their own tasks and personal happiness until a red quartz–

“What’s the use in feeling–?!” Yellow stopped herself with by humming a melody as a way to calm herself in stressful moments. 

Blue walked over and placed a hand over her shoulder. She grabbed his hand back. There were no words needed to be said.

Neither of them saw Edith and Alexandra running out of the room. Though Edith couldn’t help but shoot one last sympathetic look at the diamonds while Alexandra hugged the bubbled gem to her chest.

****

The rest of the escape wasn’t easy but it ended with an agate that was humiliated and left at the mercy of many amethysts who were eager for some much needed payback. 

When everyone was back on Earth, the young gems and Alexandra gathered around the gem that she had taken with her. The number of gems had slowly been growing and Edith was thankful that they all had a place to go close by since she couldn’t fit them all under her roof. 

Yet it was a moment of anticipation–who would come out of the gem this time?

In a flash of white, a small gem with wild curly hair in a long dress revealed herself. The star on her head band indicated that she was once part of the rebellion.

“Moonstone!” Almost instantly the gem was swept into a huge hug by Bo the bismuth. “We got Moonstone back!”

“Where am I?” Moonstone’s voice came out in whisper like tones. “Did we win?”

“We did! You won’t believe it but we did!”

Edith took in the excitement of all the gems (though Melvin was very indifferent since he never was friends with Moonstone), but there was one who was faking it. Harold wore a smile, but there was a hint of frustration in his eye that confused Edith until she remembered.

He was hoping that Alexandra had brought back Pink Sapphire. Much like the diamonds, the yellow sapphire deeply missed his own sibling.

It appeared that Alexandra noticed the sapphire’s expression as well, but she didn’t say anything. If mother and daughter had their way, they would have taken more than one or at least checked to see if Pink Sapphire was among the bubbled gems in that room.

Edith thought back to the diamonds. She remembered everything that Benjamin told her about his family, but she couldn’t believe she’d ever see them in person. Though honestly it had been of a scare for her to be kidnapped and placed in a ‘zoo’ of humans who all seemed very eager to be partnered up with her (Benjamin would have been rendered speechless at her outfit, but she was positive he’d have thrown the hugest fit imaginable if he knew where she had been taken).

 It appeared that despite Benjamin’s beliefs, both Edith’s brother and sister in-law had missed him all this time and her heart went out to them. Yet she couldn’t dare come out and tell them the truth–she couldn’t risk those gems taking her daughter away from her forever. Especially if White Diamond was truly as horrible as Benjamin made her out to be.

If a station full of trapped humans and bubbled gems was all that was left of Red Diamond to Blue and Yellow Diamond, Alexandra was all that was left of Benjamin to her.

Trust me I wanted Heidi to be the gem instead of Dressy, but it didn’t feel like the timing would be right.

[xbellaxcarolinax]

Forging A Heart (Ivar the Boneless) 25- Trust Issues

Pairing: Ivar x Artemis (OFC)

Word Count: 3498

Warnings: Ivar being an ass.

24- Let Them Come

...

It was eerily quiet, not at all like the yelling from earlier.

As soon as they entered the hall, Ivar stomped over to his council chambers without a second glance at anyone, Bjorn following behind him. Hvitserk remained with his two brothers as a sort of peacemaker.

The rest stayed out in the main hall, keeping warm by the large fire pit in the center. There was an awkwardness that lingered about, and Artemis wanted to defuse it immediately.

"You may sit by the fire if you'd like. Get yourself and the children warm." She says to Torvi. The older woman nods, guiding her babbling children to sit upon the floor. Artemis sighs, turning to see Ubbe hesitating to say something, his lips parting and closing like a hungry fish.

"Artemis," He says finally, "It is good to see you."

"Likewise." She replies with a small smile, and he nods, the corner of his lips curving upward. Even after all this time he seems to have retained his gentle heart. Before she could say anything more he heads down the corridor and into the council chambers.

Heahmund remains out in the hall, leaving the brothers to themselves. He calls for the thralls to attend them, bringing out food and drink for the children and their mother.

"Ubbe is kindhearted." Torvi speaks against the silence, though she made no movements to indicate a start to a conversation. She keeps her hands up towards the fire to eliminate the chill, "I sometimes think it'll kill him."

"Ubbe is the kindest of all the Ragnarssons," Comments Artemis, "I hope that does not change." Torvi stays quiet for a few moments before deciding to speak again.

"Lagertha used to express her regret giving you to Ivar," Her voice was soft, almost melancholic, talking of her former queen, 'What were the odds that the girl would be a blacksmith?’ is what she would say," Artemis thought she heard amusement in her tone. "She thought you'd hinder a weakness in him." Artemis scoffs, shaking her head at such a ridiculous notion. Ivar was never weak.

"But you weren't Ivar's weakness. You only fueled him. It was indeed Lagertha's weakness." Torvi continued, rubbing her hands together to rid the chill. Artemis casts a glance at Heahmund and then Tordis before stepping close to Torvi and her children. She gently sits beside the older woman, keeping her eyes on the flames.

"I will not deny you nor your children the hearth," She says quietly, "But why are you here?" From the corner of her vision she sees Torvi turn towards her. The blonde clenches her jaw and swallows thickly before answering.

"Help."

"Help?" The children began to play with the growing kittens and the large mastiff, emitting giggles and little shouts of glee. So innocent.

"Our plan was to take Hedeby, but we had very few supporters and not enough men to take it."

"Did you know a shieldmaiden named Dabria?" Artemis asks suddenly, turning sharply to look at Torvi. The fair haired woman wrinkles her brow in confusion, eyebrows almost touching together as she searched her mind for any memory of the name.

"Dabria..." She repeats, before her eyes widen in sudden realization, "Yes, I knew her. She was a shieldmaiden serving Lagertha back when she was the Jarl in Hedeby. She fought against your husband in the war. I assumed she was killed. Why?" Artemis shrugs, noticing how both Heahmund and Tordis watched them carefully. Geirdis saunters to Heahmund with a horn of mead, and they both smile at each other. She'd inquire about that later.

"Ivar thinks perhaps Bjorn had sent her."

"So what, you're saying is that she's not dead?"

"She is now," Artemis shrugs, "She attacked me. Wanted to kill Ivar's Queen in return for killing hers." Torvi frowns.

"She had no allegiance to us." Artemis only hums in response. This was perhaps the first conversation she's had with Torvi as their other encounters were wordless, mostly due to their different stations and status. Torvi seemed calm, despite their reasons for being in Kattegat.

"And what did you hope to gain by coming here?" Torvi accepts mead from Aria, who then places a gentle touch on Artemis's shoulder before standing with Geirdis.

"As Bjorn says. An alliance."

"Ivar would never give it you."

"We know," Torvi says with a sigh, "But you are his Queen, and if anyone could get through to him, it would be you."

"You want me to convince Ivar into forming an alliance with you?" Artemis could have laughed, and she almost did, cracking an amused smile, one that Torvi did not appreciate.

"Look," The shieldmaiden says, "Ragnar was avenged. Lagertha had gotten her revenge on Aslaug and Ivar on Lagertha. This game is over. What we need is an alliance and an army to help us gain control of Hedeby. Ivar has the means, and you have his ear."

"And is that what they speak of in there?"

"I imagine."

"And what does Kattegat gain in return?" Artemis asks. She was not one for political negotiations, but it was a start.

"Protection against attack, men for war and raid if need be. Trade, of course. And," Torvi looks intently at her," A marriage between my children and your future heirs to strengthen the alliance." Artemis felt her cheeks burn at the word heirs. It seemed that the gods were postponing any heirs, no matter how heated their chambers had gotten with activity. The thought made her cheeks redden more, and she had to place a cold hand on her skin in order to focus on Torvi.

"How are we to trust you? How am I to trust you?"

"I can see why you wouldn't, but I take you for a smart woman," Torvi grabs hold of her youngest daughter who had been running round in circles with Heracles stomping behind her. The girl screeches in delight, falling into her mother's lap as she fought against her mother's kisses.

"My children need a home, Queen Artemis," The blonde says after a moment of coddling her child, "And although you wouldn't believe it, Ubbe has spoken fondly of you. Even Bjorn. They believe you have the power to sway Ivar's fickleness."

"Ivar wouldn't forgive any of you so easily. He wears his hurt like armor." Artemis says with a sigh.

"Your Christian ways give you a soft heart. Help him to forgive whatever transgressions he feels we have commited. Is it not the Christian way to forgive?"

"There are no Christians here besides Heahmund," Artemis mutters, jerking her head towards the bishop now in deep conversation with Geirdis.

"Oh?" Torvi blinks, "You are no longer Christian?"

"You sound surprised."

"Should I not be?" Torvi answered, "Last I saw you, you wore a cross on your neck. Everyone was surprised Ivar let you keep such a thing." Her blue eyes shift down to Artemis's collarbone, finding not a cross, but Mjölnir, hanging from black cord, "But...his fondness for you was no secret. You follow our ways for him."

"I have my own reasons why," Artemis says, "And I am still learning your ways." Torvi smiles at this.

"I made you out to be something useless in my head," She admits, and laughs when Artemis scoffed, "I always thought ill of you, though I had no real reason other than you being a Christian."

"You sound like Floki." Artemis mutters.

"Will you help us take Hedeby?" Torvi had expectant eyes twinkling like little sapphires. Artemis stares at her, not fully trusting her, but the plan sounded decent. Bjorn could rule over Hedeby in Denmark, while Ivar ruled in Norway, far enough away from each other to avoid personal conflict, but close enough to help each other as allies.

"I need to know I can trust you." She says firmly, "I do not wish to be betrayed or made a fool." Torvi nods in understanding, letting go of her daughter and reaching to pull off a silver ring from her finger. Taking it gently in her hands she holds it out to Artemis, the silver shinning brightly.

"This ring has been in my family for over 3 generations. It was my mother's, and her mother's before her," She motions for Artemis to hold out her hand, and when she does, Torvi places it firmly in the middle of her palm. "A symbol of trust and loyalty. I shall like to be friends one day, if the gods see fit. You are an extraordinary woman."

It was Torvi who Artemis regarded as an extraordinary woman. She was a fierce shieldmaiden and a mother. There was nothing extraordinary about a foreign blacksmith. Artemis stares down at the ring in her palm, admiring its beauty. She bites her lip, closing her hand into a tight fist.

"I swear upon the gods," Torvi finishes, putting her hands over Artemis's fist.

"I accept your oath, Shieldmaiden," She says firmly, "I will bring it to the King's attention."

Torvi smiles brightly, and that alone made Artemis's mood lift.

...

"No."

"But-"

"No, I do not wish to discuss it any further." Ivar grunts out, already annoyed at the stubborn look Artemis was producing.

"Ivar, I have the right to speak."

"Yes, my love, you do, but not on this matter." He rolls over onto his stomach, one eye peeping at his wife putting on her nightgown, quite angrily if possible.

"You're stubborn." She mumbles loud enough for him to hear.

"You think this is the type of talk to be had after sex?" His voice is muffled from shoving his face into a pillow. Artemis's eyes lingered on his bare back, noting how his skin glistened in the candle light. His muscles were lean and tight, and not what she should be thinking about at the moment.

"I think it's a good start, yes." There was a smile in her voice, Ivar could detect it.

"No."

"Ivar." She whined, moving away from the window and jumping upon the bed, her fingers already gravitating to touch the tight lines of his back.

"Artemis, do you intend to torment me as much as my brothers? Come, lay beside me." He lifts an arm up, still laying on his stomach, but turns his head slightly to pop open an eye, using it to convince her. It was enough. She sighs, snuggling in under his arm. She turned her head to gaze at his tired features, the one eye already drooping in the tell tale sign that sleep would soon evade him.

"My love," She says softly to him. He frowns, though his eyes still remained shut, "Will you not at least negotiate?"

"Stop. You sound like Hvitserk," He whines, "He is the last thing I want to think about in these moments."

"Your brother is smart."

"He is a fool. Nostalgia eats away at him."

"He misses his family," Artemis frowns, "I can relate."

"I'm sure you are not related to any traitors as I am."

"Well, what if it was your mother who had killed Lagertha, and Bjorn were to take revenge on her? Would you not have defended your mother?"

"That is not what happened." Was his simple reply. Artemis rolls her eyes.

"But what if?" Ivar remains quiet, feigning sleep, and doing a very bad job of it. His lashes flutter slightly until finally he peeks up at her. She was frowning and he sighs.

"What would you have me do, hmm? This isn't a simple matter. This is about power, Artemis. I will not risk being made a fool nor betrayed over a failing town."

"A failing town that could rise into prominence with our help! Hedeby has some advantages, does it not?"

"Mmm, I don't care," He groans out, frustrated, "How do you know so much about Hedeby all of a sudden?"

"I talk to the people, and the people talk to me."

"Well, don’t ." Ivar says stubbornly now rolling on his back, as if his missing touch would keep her quiet. He stares up at the slanted roof of their chambers in silent thought before speaking.

"I did not marry you for any political reasons, nor did I marry you for the supposed strategies of politics you think you possess. I married you because you have a pretty face and look lovely as a Queen. You are just a blacksmith, not a dignitary." It was quiet for a few moments, and Ivar knew the wheels were turning in her head, but he did not bother to turn towards her.

She says nothing still, quietly getting up and wrapping herself in her furs before leaving their chambers in silence.

...

"Where's your shieldmaiden? You shouldn't be out here on your own, it's dangerous." Artemis scoffs, turning to look over her shoulder. Bjorn put his hood over his head to block the cold, though he made no movement to approach until she allowed him too. She jerks her head so that he may come closer.

"Dangerous? You are already here, that is the only danger I need to be worried about." He chuckles, smiling as he leaned against an ancient tree and crossed his arms. They were near the entrance of the Great Hall, which is probably why Artemis decided it was fine to be alone. He takes note of a hammer hanging on her side from a belt around her waist. Ahh. That was why.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Artemis."

"I would hope not, I'm trying to help you despite our history." She replies. She doesn't turn round to look at him, her focus taken up entirely by the full moon that shone over Kattegat.

"So you'll help us?" She could hear the snow crunching under Bjorn's boots as he goes to face her, "You've spoken to Ivar then?"

"I've tried..." Artemis sighs, tightening her cloak, "But he won't have it. He'd rather insult me." She could taste the bitterness of the words on her tongue.

"My little brother has a way with words. That should not have escaped you." Bjorn says just as bitterly. She sighs again, placing a cold hand on her brow at the oncoming headache. She sniffled, and a few tears escaped her eyes but she quickly wiped them away, not daring to cry in front of Bjorn. If he noticed then he did well not to mention it.

"I am well aware of Ivar's attitude," She says before clearing her throat, changing the topic, "How is the cabin I had prepared for you all? I hope you are comfortable." Bjorn smiles. She was acting every bit a queen.

"It is quite comfortable despite all the guards. We thank you. I came hoping to speak with Ivar again, but-"

"Try your luck tomorrow, he will not hear you now."

"Or ever," Bjorn mutters, and Artemis cracks a smile.

"I...am sorry about your mother," She says to him, "I seemed to have been involved in her death." The words came out awkwardly as she realized how horrible the situation was. He makes a noise before replying.

"I saw you shoot the arrow," He says, and he almost smiled at the look of horror on her face, "I heard you are quite impressive with a bow," His eyes shifts to the weapon on her waist, "And skilled with a hammer, of course,"

"Bjorn..."

"It was fated by the gods," He interrupts, though he swallows thickly, "Let us speak of it no more." Artemis eyes him wearily, but nods.

"Why don't you come and visit the cabin? I'm sure you're tired of the bishops company." He offers.

"I don't think that's wise, Ivar-"

"Hvitserk is already there. You can bring the shieldmaiden if you'd like." Artemis ponders for a moment. Perhaps it wasn't that bad of a suggestion, and she really didn't want to be under the same roof as Ivar anyway.

Let him sleep alone for the while.

...

"Ivar sent scouts searching out for weeks," Artemis says. She sat close to the fire, Heracles laying beside her. In her hands was a warm cup of mulled wine she had brought for them, "Where did you go?"

"Perhaps it isn't wise to reveal such information, in case we need it again.” Mutters Torvi beside her, gently petting Heracles's wrinkly head.

"Does he follow you everywhere?" Ubbe asks, eyes glued to the giant beast. He's never seen a dog of such build before.

"Basically," Hvitserk answers for her, "He killed Dabria."

"Dabria?" Bjorn perks up at the name, stepping over to him, "My mother's shieldmaiden? I thought her dead."

"And we thought you might have sent her. She attacked me." Artemis replies, turning her gaze to him, "There are those who still support your mother even in death. That is why Ivar doesn't trust you."

"Because he thinks we rally supporters." Ubbe finishes with a sigh, sitting beside Torvi and placing an arm about her shoulders. Both Hvitserk and Artemis notice this but say nothing of it.

"It is a rational thought, I suppose, even for Ivar." Bjorn says, rubbing the stubble of his shaved yellow hair.

"Too much has happened between all of you for Ivar to willingly offer assistance," Artemis says, "He would need something to prove your loyalty. All of you."

"Like what?" Asks Torvi.

"I've been studying with Headmund." Artemis begins, the tone in her voice has everyone on edge.

"And what has the bishop been teaching you?" Hvitserk asks with narrowed eyes. He was civil with Heahmund, but did not trust him as fully as Ivar did.

"The laws of governing in Wessex."

"You don't mean to rule Kattegat like those foolish kings of England?" Bjorn snorts with a shake of his head, "Ivar would never allow it."

"No, no, nothing of the sort," She says quickly, watching everyone grow weary, "It is only to understand their ways for any plans in the future. Ivar still controls York, meaning we will encounter the King at one point."

"You clever girl," Hvitserk grins, moving from the table to ruffle her hair like a child, "You have the makings of a queen." She slaps his hands away, producing a smile, but it falters, remembering Ivar's words.

"At least you think so." She says quietly.

"So what do their politics teach you?" Ubbe asks.

"You won't like it," She answers, turning to look at both Torvi and Bjorn before continuing, "When kings and noblemen demand loyalty to be proven from an enemy, a ward is issued...like a hostage."

"What are you proposing?" Torvi demands, losing interest immediately in the mastiff. Artemis stays quiet for a moment, her eyes shifting between Bjorn and Torvi again before landing on their youngest daughter, sleeping soundly beside her brother. Everyone's eyes follow hers.

"No, no, I forbid it!" Torvi yells, though low enough to not wake the children.

"You mean to make Asa a hostage?" Bjorn demands, crossing his arms. He too was angry, though he did better to control his anger.

"How can you propose such a thing?" Hvitserk shakes his head, "To take a child from their mother?"

"You had no problem taking me from my father," Artemis snaps, her eyes flickering over all of them as they fell silent at her word. "Just listen to my reasoning." She commands, her voice more stern than ever before. Ubbe reaches over to place a hand on her shoulder in comfort. Even after all this he wished to show her kindness.

"We're listening," He says, sighing when Torvi shrugs his arm off her shoulders.

"If Ivar were to take Asa as a ward, she would be under my care. She will be safe with me. Unfortunately, it is the only other way I can think of, and I believe there is a chance Ivar would agree to it."

"Holding her hostage would be holding us hostage. He'd have us by the throats." Comments Bjorn, turning to walk to the farthest corner of the cabin.

"Any word of disloyalty and betrayal, any wrong move, and you risk her life." Artemis says, lowering her eyes in shame. It was not something she wished to propose, but it was the only option she could see succeeding.

Suddenly there was a pounding on the door, and Torvi rushed to the children in case they woke in fear.

"My Queen, it is the King and his men." Tordis says hastily.

"It was a matter of time before he came for you," Bjorn says, "Go, we will discuss this further in the morning." Artemis stands with a sigh, Heracles already jumping to his feet, his eyes glued to the door. He recognized the sounds of Ivar's crutch and braces, and it made his tail wag in excitement.

"Will you come, Hvitserk?" She asks him, and he nods, downing his wine before making any movements. He goes to hug his brothers and Torvi, and Artemis nods her farewell.

"Have a goodnight, Queen Artemis." She hears Bjorn say before opening the door.

...

@heavenly1927 @didiintheblog @leilabeaux @jzr201 @inforapound @a-mess-of-fandoms @rastakami23 @ostra814 @zumzum96

[halfbreedhawkins]

III: OF PENNY’S MAGIC & HER CONDUITS

When it comes to magic, Penny has always been a bit of a natural in two subjects; Healing and Transfiguration. Transfiguration was a bit of a family skill, or really more a werewolf skill, every member of the Clans or established Packs have a bit of a natural affinity towards Transfiguration even those who aren’t awesome at traditional magic. Penny’s skill with Healing is more of a personal skill, one she’s studied and developed after her father’s murder, watching how desperately people tried to save him in his last breaths when they were found. Penny pushed herself to study Healing as a magic, to get better, to help save her families lives should they ever face something like that again. As such whenever someone comes to the Puppy Shack with injuries, Penny is there wand in hand, healing over whatever hurt they’d come with. 

Penny is a pretty good duelist, if only because she grew up tussling and play fighting with her cousins. She didn’t duel at Hogwarts at all, but using wands without the Trace and conduits she practiced, wands were an extension of Penny’s self, even if it wasn’t her own she’d been practicing making wands and use them since before she even attended Hogwarts. Her skill is mostly around complicated charmwork, hexes, and protective charms. 

But what most folk don’t know, is that Penny and all the Hawkins cousins, wear conduits like others wear clothing. They never leave their homes without them. These small magical items to focus their magical energies towards certain types of magic or are spelled to do something. This is the main reason behind the Hawkins many piercings and jewelry adornments.

Atalanta wears a lip-ring, it nullifies most poisons, a ring that can be used to deflect curses, a bracelet that allows her to draw of electrical magic.  Helle wears matching anklets that augment her footwork by making her legs lighter, it makes her a better fighter. Damon has an iron choker to protect him from dragon fire, Zephyr wears an anklet that protects them from falling when they use wind magic, no-one knows which of Iris’ jewelry is a conduit or just for show

The list goes on through all the Hawkins Cousins. 

Penny wears the lip-ring for poison, two rings on her left hand, the bronze one is inlaid with an uncut ruby that protects her from curses and the wooden one is inlaid with iron that supplements her charmwork. She has a gold bracelet with shards of sapphire that helps her with wandless healing magic, and a gold thumbcuff that if slipped off also slips off any sort of handcuff or binding spell. She wears an ear-cuff that increases her hearing, and a long dangling iron earring with a tiny emerald at the end that makes a sound if someone throws a curse at her. All of them, with the exception of the bracelet, were made by her either in her later Hogwarts years or in recent years. They are pretty, and most people think they are just roughly made jewlery. 

Is it cheating? To wear conduits and spelled magical items. Penny believes they are necessary, to protect herself, to help her family and friends, and to give them an edge. They can make these conduits and magical items for others, if they know to come knocking.

[sugarbooger513]

Dirty Little Secret

Warnings: Smut.

     “River,” Eletha comes from her room, rubbing sleep from her eyes, “are you busy right now?” River glances up from the scroll she was studying. It’s a normal thing she does. 

     “Not really. What do you need?” The sisters seem to share a loving glance from across the room. Nothing seems to come between them, honestly. 

    “I have a lot to do today. Can you take something to Dorian for me?” “You know I will, but what has you so busy?” “Just a meeting at the war table. The Commander’s troops seem to be caught in a never-ending battle, I swear.” 

     River frowns at the deep lines that seem to have carved themselves into Eletha’s skin. She can’t imagine what her older sister must go through. 

     “How much did you actually sleep last night, Eletha?” “Don’t-” “Answer me.” She sighs, knowing that River has a knack for annoying the piss out of her. “About three hours. Now, I really-” “I’m making you a sleeping potion. Either you take it tonight, or I make as much noise as I can to annoy you.” “Fine! Just go give this to Dorian.” 

     River smiles triumphantly before taking the wrapped parcel. It isn’t very heavy, but Eletha obviously put a lot of care in the appearance of it. Still, River quickly puts her scroll up so she can go outside. 

     The warm spring weather makes River let out a happy sigh. It feels like the Clan. It’s the time of year when weddings are happening, and families are becoming larger. It’s the easiest time to start building a family. There are plenty of animals to hunt, and the crops are thriving. 

     She suddenly snaps back into reality with a grimace. There’s no reason to think about clan life. ‘I’m here for a reason, damn it. I belong here.’ Still, there’s a pain in her chest thinking about the few people she left behind. Maybe Tamen has a family now. He always wanted one. 

     “River,” Dorian’s friendly voice makes her feel a bit better already, “what are you doing here? We don’t have training today.” “I know. Eletha wanted me to bring this to you while she went to a meeting.” She holds the gift out, which he takes with a smile. 

     “I shouldn’t be shocked. The Inquisitor found a book about Tevinter i didn’t already own. How sweet.” Dorian immediately opens the old book to smell the pages. River smiles watching him look so content. Most of the time, during training, he seems very stressed. 

     “Speaking of your sister,” he quickly looks around to make sure no one else is around, “has she heard the news?” A pain fills the small elf’s chest. “Ha.. news? I have no idea what you mean.” 

     “Is that a no?” She nods, which makes him sigh. “She won’t hate you.” “I know that.. I think. Still, i know how protective she is of me, Dorian. I don’t want her to worry.” He places a gentle hand on her shoulder. “She has a right to worry.” “I know..” 

      He smiles a bit sadly. Even with him knowing, he knows how hard this is for River. She isn’t used to being her own person. It’s hard to do what you want to do when you’ve been raised to serve others. 

     “Don’t stress too much about it, kid. It’ll all work out. Now, go tell her that I say a million thank yous. I should start reading immediately.” The mentor and apprentice share a quick hug before she leaves. 

    The sunlight shines warmly on her porcelain skin, so she pulls the black cloak tighter around her while she rushes inside. A sunburn would really suck. 

     Once she gets to the war room, she can hear arguing from outside the door. 

     “Inquisitor,” his voice makes her breath hitch in her throat, “that’s crazy. My men can-” “Your men are dying, Commander. They will retreat. End of discussion.” 

     River grimaces, but wipes it away once she knocks. “Come in.” She steps inside after hearing her sister’s voice. The tension in the air makes her skin tingle. “I.. Dorian said thank you. I just.. thought I should tell you, sis.” Eletha nods, but her eyes are tired. 

      As much as River wants to give her sister her undivided attention, the Commander’s eyes capture her. Likewise, he shifts his focus to the young elf standing shyly at the door. Her eyes are like sapphires, and his like molten copper. 

     Eletha groans, snapping her fingers to get the Commander’s attention. “I said that is all for today. Please, go rest a bit, Commander.” “Yes, Inquisitor.” He turns to leave. As he’s walking out, he can’t help but bump into River. It seem like an accident, and anyone around them see it that way, but the two of them know. 

     He just craves to feel her touch. “Excuse me, Rivera.” “You’re fine, Commander.” The way she says the title causes a fire to ignite behind his stern gaze. She acts so damn innocent, so clueless, but he knows better. 

     She knows better. Just the look in his eyes reminds her of the nights they’ve spent together. She can just imagine the feeling of his lips down her body, even his stubble scratching every sensitive curve. She has to tear her eyes away. There’s no way she can think of that and go talk to Eletha. 

     Before he leaves, Cullen gives her a knowing smirk. 

     “Sis, maybe you should go nap.” “I’ll sleep tonight, River. Quit bothering me about it.” “I refuse.” She groans at her younger sister’s persistence. However, it’s no secret that it’s a trait they share. “If I go nap, what are you going to do?” “Study. I always fucking study, Eletha.” 

     “I know, but don’t you need a break?” “No. I need to get this fucking spell-” “Can you please stop with all of the f-bombs?” “Umm.. absolutely fucking not.” The two of them share a laugh. “Fine. I’ll take a nap, but wake me up in a little while?” “No problem.” Eletha wraps River into a hug before she walks away. 

     Of course, River never meant it when she said she was going to study. She immediately turns on her heels and starts walking to his room. Well, it’s hi office and his room. 

     As usual, he’s sitting at his desk when she opens the door. He glances from a letter in his hand, and a smile graces his handsome face. When she enters and shuts the door, he lets out a soft chuckle. “Come to distract me, have you?” 

      “O-oh. Are you busy?” “I’m never too busy for you, love.” His words make her giggle like a child. The sound of it still makes his heart flutter. 

     “What do you need, River?” “Well.. we haven’t had any time together for a few days..” His smile falls. “I know, love. I’ve been busy, and I know that we can’t let the Inquisitor find out.” “I’m not mad, Cullen. I just.. miss you.” He stands and takes a few long strides over to the elf. 

      He towers ten or so inches over her, which makes her feel.. safe. He’s like a wall that can hug her. His hand goes under her chin to make her look into his eyes. “Come on. Lets go to bed for a little while. I could use some love, too.” His other hand grabs one of hers in a soft grip. 

     Once he pulls her into his bedroom, he kicks the door shut. Once he turns towards her, he has to immediately catch her in his arms. Their lips lock in a dance they both know too well. 

     He keeps one arm under her for balance, but the other one snakes to her neck to untie the cloak she always wears. Once it falls to the ground, the two of them break apart to breathe. 

     His eyes scan her porcelain skin and he smirks. Around her shoulders are still visible love bites and hickies from the last time she stayed a while with him. She immediately flushes and smacks his chest. “Stop staring!” “Stop being beautiful.” She rolls her eyes, but whimpers when he starts placing soft kisses along her jawline. 

     “D-don’t you dare, Cullen.” “I know, I know. In all fairness, you got my neck last time. I’ve had a lots of trouble keeping that hidden.” ‘You don’t have a sister here that will berate you with questions if she finds marks on you.” He rolls his eyes playfully as she starts to slip the fur from around his shoulders away. 

     “No, but your sister is also my boss.” River giggles, taking a second to admire the bites that lead down his neck. The two of them always seem to get carried away, but neither of them actually mind it. 

     Cullen enjoys working alone while he can still feel spots where River has claimed him. “Maker’s breath, River..” He groans her name when she gives his hair a gentle tug. 

     When he notices her bite her lip, something inside of him snaps. “Okay, fine. You want to tease,” he sets her on the ground and starts pulling the rest of his armor off, “take your clothes off, love. I want to see the rest of those pretty marks.” 

     She hasn’t seen this light in his eyes before. Her legs shake from anticipation as she starts pulling her thin shirt over her head. Her bra is also one that slips over her head, but Cullen starts getting impatient. When she feels his hands yank her pants down, she lets out a yelp. He chuckles as he slides her underwear down slowly. “It’s just me, baby.”  

     He usually doesn’t move so quick into stuff like this, but he seemed to have really missed her. Either that, or he was super stressed and needed fast relief. Either way, she didn’t mind it. Truth be told, shes been waiting for this side of him to come out. She loves how gentle he can be, but she always seems to know when he’s holding himself back. 

     “How long have you been thinking of me, River?” “H-huh?” He suddenly swipes a finger along her slit, collecting the moisture that had already gathered there. “S-shut up...” She looks away from him, her face flushed from his stares. 

     He grabs her shoulders gently and shoves her back into his door with a smirk. “Don’t be shy, love. I’m just teasing.” She whimpers when he pushes his middle finger into her. He smirks when she lifts her leg to wrap around him. “You impatient girl. I don’t want it to hur-” she interrupts him by trying to pull away, but his free hand quickly wraps around her neck. The action puts shock on both of their faces. 

     Still, when he tries to let it go, River shakes her head. “N-no. You’re fine, Cullen. Just.. keep that up.” He rolls his eyes before gently squeezing the sides. “Maker’s breath, you’re gorgeous like this.” 

     She arches her back, which presses their bodies together, as he pushes his index finger into her. Every nerve in her body screams as he starts curling those fingers, pressing every button he can. “C-Cullen.. please..” 

     ‘She sounds so heavenly..’ He suddenly pulls his fingers out and w=back away from her. “Get on the bed.” She listens to him instantly, so he takes a second to actually take his pants off. 

     When he walks over, she gives him a flirty smile. “Do you actually want to lead Cul-” “Hush. I’m not quite ready.” “What? How?” He smirks before yanking her down to the edge of the bed. “Lay down. baby. Let me take care of you.” 

     Her heart rate increases as he dips his head between her legs. His eyes scan the smaller, more delicate marks hes left along her inner thighs. She really is a beautiful sight, and she’s all his. When he places a soft kiss on her slit, she whimpers softly. The sound alone sends a shiver down his spine. 

     He loves taking his time doing this. Just running his tongue around every sensitive spot and making her whimper his name. Once he hits the small bundle of nerves, her leg tightens around his shoulder. He keeps his attention there while sliding the two fingers from earlier into her heat. 

      “C-Cullen.. I-I-” Her breathing changes into a faster pace, which only makes him increase his pace. This has to be the best part. He usually lets her finish at this part, but he suddenly changes plans. As soon as he feels her start to tighten around his fingers, he pulls away from her. 

     “Y-you asshole!” “Oh, don’t be a brat. You’ll get to finish.” He grabs her hip with one hand while he lines himself up with her entrance. “I just want you to cum around me instead, River.” His words make her moan softly, which only causes him to laugh. 

     He takes his time pushing into her. Her face tightens for only a second, but she whimpers when he doesn’t move. “What, River?” “Would-would you just hurry and fucking-” A hard thrust makes her gasp and put her hand over her mouth. 

     “No ma’am,” he moves her hand to her side with a chuckle, “I want to hear every pretty noise you make.” “W-what has gotten into you today? Someone could hear us.” He chuckles lowly before snapping his hips into hers again, which makes her let out a rather loud whimper. “Good. They’ll know who you fucking belong to.” 

      He never uses that tone, or language, with River. Never. The sound of it makes her let out the loudest moan shes ever made for him. Honestly, it’s all bets off a this point. He grabs her hips in both of his hands and drags her to meet his quick thrusts. 

     There’s no way in hell he can last long like this, so he takes his thumb and starts rubbing harsh circles around her neglected. It throws her over the edge almost as soon as he starts. 

      As her walls tighten around him, he hears someone walking towards his office. ‘Shit,’ his thrusts starts becoming sloppier, ‘not yet. Not now’. He hears knocking on the office door just as he finally releases into River with a groan. 

      River shivers from underneath him, but it’s short lived as he quickly pulls himself out and rushes to dress himself. It isn’t his full armor, but he glances at her with a finger over his lips before he leaves, shutting the door behind him. 

        She sits up, ignoring the ache in her hips from his bruising grip, and grabs a shirt of his to slip on before she starts searching for her underwear. When she has them pulled on, she presses her ear to the wall. 

     “Commander,” oh shit, “did you hire a service at the last town we were in? You’re neck..” “Maker’s breath, no, Inquisitor.” Shit shit shit! Eletha was supposed to be asleep. “Look,” she sighs softly, “cover it up. It’s unprofessional to show that off.” “Yes ma’am.” “And tell your girlfriend or whoever to watch where she puts those damn things.” “I will.” The office door shuts before Cullen makes his way back into the room. His cheeks are bright pink. 

     “Don’t worry. She doesn’t know it was from you. She just thinks I’m some man whore now.” River giggles as Cullen pulls her back to the bed. “Hey,” his hand softly cups her cheek when they lay down, “I love you. You know that, right?” His eyes sparkle as they meet hers. She knows all about what happened at Haven.

     Cullen and Eletha were talking. He had a crush on her, and she felt the same, but she deemed it unprofessional and asked if they could wait until after the war. River found out about it before Cullen ever kissed her, or ever thought about doing it. 

     Despite that, River can’t deny the love she has for the ex-Templar. He keeps her safe. He makes her feel important, and he truly loves her. She knows that, despite him being her dirty little secret, Cullen’s heart belongs to her and her alone. 

     “I love you more, Cully Wully.” “Oh, Maker’s breath.” 

@katgalle​

[sage-nebula]

Read you wanted to focus on your fandoms, so here's a positive prompt for you : what do you like about Pokemon? What's your top 5 of favorite features? (any generation and spin-off games you have played included)

What do I like about Pokémon? Well . . .

Honestly, this is often such a difficult question for me to answer, at least if I’m put on the spot, because there are so few things that I dislike about Pokémon, and so many ways in which it has cemented itself in my life for the vast majority of my life. Ever since 1998, there has not been a single moment in which I have disliked Pokémon. There have been times when I’ve been unhappy with certain games or generations, but I’ve never disliked Pokémon as a whole and in fact have always fallen back on it as a comfort series, as a safe mental space. Pokémon has been everything to me for over two decades.

With that said, I think the primary reason why I click with Pokémon as much as I do is because the series emphasizes platonic partnership and love between humans and animal (monster) companions. Platonic love, be it through friendship or family, has always been immensely important to me. Bonds between humans and animals, then, have always been some of my favorites, because that love can be nothing but platonic, and is often shown in fiction to be some of the deepest love there is, which has directly reflected my own lived experience. When I was growing up through an abusive childhood, the only ally I had was my dog. I protected her the best I could, and felt it was my responsibility to do so, but she also very literally saved my life, because seeing her was the only reason why I put down the instruments I was going to use in that moment to kill myself when I was fifteen. Anyone who met us always said that we had an “unnatural” bond, and you know, that was true; there were multiple occasions when she showed she knew what I was thinking without me saying anything. She passed away early 2015 and I will never be over that, but the relationship I had with her was proof that relationships like Hiccup & Toothless or Ash & Pikachu in fiction aren’t just fiction; those bonds are real, too.

And Pokémon, as a franchise, celebrates and has always celebrated that. The reason why it’s wrong to dismiss Pokémon as “animal fighting” is more than just the fact that the pokémon want to fight and that trainers are more like boxing coaches than tamers or anything similar. The reason why it’s different comes down to the fundamentals. In real life, animal fighting relies on callous cruelty and outright abuse to animals. Not only do the animals not want to fight, but in order to make them fight, humans starve them, beat them, brutally kill them when they lose, et cetera. They see animals as things, as tools, as objects to abuse to make money. Animal fighting is cruel and sickening, and also the exact opposite of what Pokémon is.

Because ever since the very first generation of games, the Pokémon games have preached that pokémon need to be treated with respect, care, and love. In the very first games, this is the speech that Professor Oak gives to your rival, Blue, when he loses to you at the Pokémon League. He tells Blue that the reason why he lost is because he didn’t treat his pokémon with enough respect and love. The very first villains in the franchise, Team Rocket, are known for seeing pokémon as money-making objects, which is the reason why they’re villains. This theme is one that grows louder and louder with each succeeding generation. Those who treat pokémon callously and cruelly are depicted as villains, while those who treat pokémon with the love and respect they deserve are heralded as heroes. The powerful bond that stems from the unity between people and pokémon is emphasized as well, showcased in numerous different game features (e.g. Mega Evolution, Z-Moves). Starting in Generation VI, the games also introduced features that let you pet and play with your pokémon, to further the bond players feel with the pokémon they raise.

Pokémon is the antithesis of animal fighting because it pushes players (and watchers of the anime, readers of various manga, etc) to view pokémon as friends and irreplaceable companions. They aren’t tools or toys, they’re not possessions, they are partners. Pokémon places utmost importance on these bonds, on the platonic love that exists between human and pokémon, and that speaks to me on a personal level. And I know it’s not just me; I’ve known people in my age group who grew up to be veterinarians because Pokémon fostered a love in them for working with animals. That is a beautiful thing, a worthy and worthwhile thing, and it is the beating heart of why I love Pokémon so much, why I’ll never walk away from it, and why The Pokémon Company International will be getting many more of my dollars as time goes on.

. . . With all of that said, some of my favorite features:

Soaring!! I really want them to bring Soaring back so much. It was present in both Ranger: Guardian Signs, as well as Omega Ruby / Alpha Sapphire, so I really hope that it comes back someday.

Following pokémon, properly implemented. I refused to play the LGPE games on principle, but I hope that riding party pokémon can also make a comeback at some point.

Mega Evolution!! Way better than Z-Moves and preferable to Dynamaxing too. I miss it so much, and so does Nova, my Charizard, considering she was specifically trained for it. :(

HAVING A WILD AREA, this should have been first, forgive me. But honestly, please don’t make this a Gen VIII specific thing, Game Freak. Please make this a permanent thing. Expand it, even. Give us wild area across the whole map.

Amie / Refresh / Camp; I love being able to interact with my team like that, and the cooking in Camp makes it feel more immersive, too. I hope that comes back as well. :)