#Summit Brewing

[auraeseer]

. . . got caught looking.

[chicagobeerpass]

Chicago Beer Pass: IPA Snacks

Welcome to the Chicago Beer Pass: Your ticket to all the great beer events happening in and around Chicago.

On this episode of Chicago Beer Pass, Brad Chmielewski and Nik White have themselves a little IPA Snack to usher in what they hope is Spring and not Chicago's "false Spring". Brad picked up these cans of Raptor Snacks from District Brew Yards and felt like it was just what they needed: a classic IPA. This beer doesn't disappoint and is a good reminder of the tasty beer coming out of District Brew Yards all the time. As the guys crush a few cans, Nik shares a little about his recent trip to Cider Summit.

Having issues listening to the audio? Try the MP3 (36.3 MB) or subscribe to the podcast on Spotify.

[todayontumblr]

Monday, November 6.

Bob Ross.

Well, you know what they say. When the going gets tough, the tough get comfortable, make themselves a warm brew (like herbal tea or hot chocolate, par exemple), and snuggle down with lights dimmed and their faces illuminated by laptop screen glow. Here, they sit and watch one of #bob ross' many classic episodes, like Mountain Summit, or Valley View, and enjoy the show's blissfully 80s theme music, simplistic décor, Mr Ross' liberally-buttoned shirt, and soft, yet gravely, timbre. For 30 minutes, they enjoy Mr Ross painting a landscape scene: a lake, a sunset, a mountain. And it is after this point, and only after, that the tough get going. 

[coochiequeens]

I know this blog focuses on TIMs invading women’s sports and locker rooms but Saving Women’s Sports means more than that. Like calling out sexist bs when companies give men real clothes to compete in and women get basically underwear.

The Nike Air Innovation Summit in Paris on Thursday.Credit...Dominique Maitre/WWD, via Getty Images

By Vanessa Friedman April 12, 2024

Ever since the Norwegian women’s beach handball team turned the fact that they were required to wear teeny-tiny bikini bottoms for competition into a cause célèbre, a quiet revolution has been brewing throughout women’s sports. It’s one that questions received conventions about what female athletes do — or don’t — have to wear to perform at their very best.

It has touched women’s soccer (why white shorts?), gymnastics (why not a unitard rather than a leotard?), field hockey (why a low-cut tank top?) and many more, including running.

So it probably should not have come as a shock to Nike that when it offered a sneak peek of the Team U.S.A. track and field unies during a Nike Air event in Paris celebrating its Air technology on Thursday (which also included looks for other Olympic athletes, like Kenya’s track and field team, France’s basketball team and Korea’s break dancing delegation), they were met with some less-than-enthusiastic reactions.

See, the two uniforms Nike chose to single out on the mannequins included a men’s compression tank top and mid-thigh-length compression shorts and a woman’s bodysuit, cut notably high on the hip. It looked sort of like a sporty version of a 1980s workout leotard. As it was displayed, the bodysuit seemed as if it would demand some complicated intimate grooming.

Citius Mag, which focuses on running news, posted a photo of the uniforms on Instagram, and many of its followers were not amused.

“What man designed the woman’s cut?” wrote one.

“I hope U.S.A.T.F. is paying for the bikini waxes,” wrote another. So went most of the more than 1,900 comments.

The running comedian Laura Green posted an Instagram reel in which she pretended to be trying on the look (“We’re feeling pretty, um, breezy,” she said) and checking out the rest of the athlete’s kit bag, which turned out to include hair spray, lip gloss and a “hysterectomy kit,” so the women would not have to worry about periods.

When asked, Nike did not address the brouhaha directly, but according to John Hoke, the chief innovation officer, the woman’s bodysuit and the man’s shorts and top are only two of the options Nike will have for its Olympic runners. There are “nearly 50 unique pieces across men’s and women’s and a dozen competition styles fine-tuned for specific events,” Mr. Hoke said.

Sha’Carri Richardson

Women will be able to opt for compression shorts, a crop top or tank and a bodysuit with shorts rather than bikini bottoms. The full slate of looks was not on hand in Paris but more will be revealed next week at the U.S. Olympic Committee media summit in New York. The Paris reveal was meant to be a teaser.

Anna Cockrell.Credit...Dominique Maitre/WWD, via Getty Images

Mr. Hoke also pointed out that Nike consults with a large number of athletes at every stage of the uniform design. Its track and field roster includes Sha’Carri Richardson, who happened to be wearing the compression shorts during the Paris presentation, and Athing Mu. And there are certainly runners who like the high-cut brief. (The British Olympic sprinter Dina Asher-Smith, another Nike athlete, told The New York Times last summer that while she opts to run in briefs, she also leans toward a leotard style, rather than a two-piece.)

What Nike missed, however, was that in choosing those two looks as the primary preview for Team U.S.A., rather than, say, the matching shorts and tanks that will be also available, it shored up a longstanding inequity in sports — one that puts the body of a female athlete on display in a way it does not for the male athlete.

“Why are we presenting this sexualized outfit as the standard of excellence?” said Lauren Fleshman, a U.S. national champion distance runner and the author of “Good for a Girl.” “In part because we think that’s what nets us the most financial gain from sponsors or NIL opportunities, most of which are handed out by powerful men or people looking at it through a male gaze. But women are breaking records with ratings in sports where you don’t have to wear essentially a bathing suit to perform.”

The problem such imagery creates is twofold. When Nike chose to reveal the high-cut bodysuit as the first Olympics outfit, purposefully or not, the implication for anyone watching is that “this is what excellence looks like,” Ms. Fleshman said.

That perception filters down to young athletes and becomes the model girls think they have to adopt, often at a developmental stage when their relationships with their bodies are particularly fraught.

And more broadly, given the current political debate around adjudicating women’s bodies, it reinforces the idea that they are public property.

Still, Ms. Fleshman said, “I’m glad Nike put this image out as the crown jewel of Olympic Team design,” because it may act as the catalyst for another conversation that has been long overdue.

“If you showed this outfit to someone from the W.N.B.A. or women’s soccer, they would laugh in your face,” she said. “We shouldn’t have to normalize it for track and field anymore. Time’s up on that.”

[tenzingfilm]

Exciting news is brewing in the world of cinema: Hollywood stars Tom Hiddleston and Willem Dafoe are in Kathmandu, Nepal, to begin work on the highly anticipated biographical drama Tenzing.

Insiders suggest they’re gearing up to bring Tenzing Norgay Sherpa extraordinary story to life.

Jennifer Peedom is at the helm, with spring 2025 marked as the start of principal photography, and Kathmandu, rich in mountaineering history, is the perfect backdrop.

Here’s what we know so far.

The Insider Scoop

According to our source in India, Tom Hiddleston, who’ll play Sir Edmund Hillary, and Willem Dafoe, cast as Colonel John Hunt, are in Kathmandu to kick off pre‑production and possibly even some early filming.

This fits the spring 2025 timeline that the team announced.

While the production hasn’t made a formal announcement yet, word is that Tenzing is moving full steam ahead in Nepal.

About the Film: Tenzing

Tenzing celebrates Tenzing Norgay, the Nepalese‑Indian Sherpa who, alongside Sir Edmund Hillary, became one of the first people to summit Mount Everest on May 29, 1953.

The filmmakers aim to spotlight his remarkable journey, honor his cultural heritage, and highlight the vital role Sherpas play in mountaineering, stories that often get glossed over.

See‑Saw Films is producing, with support from Apple Original Films, promising both breathtaking visuals and a narrative with real heart.

The Cast

Tom Hiddleston as Sir Edmund Hillary: Best known as Loki in the Marvel universe, Hiddleston will portray the determined explorer who forged an iconic partnership with Norgay.

Willem Dafoe as Colonel John Hunt: The Oscar‑nominated actor (seen in Platoon and Poor Things) takes on the role of the expedition leader whose strategy made the historic ascent possible.

Tenzing Norgay: Casting for the legendary Sherpa is still under wraps, with the production committed to finding someone who can truly embody his spirit.

Casting for Tenzing Norgay

One intriguing possibility floating around is Tenzing Norgay Trainor, the actor and grandson of the climber, known for his work in Disney’s Liv and Maddie and Netflix’s Abominable.

His personal connection could bring an extra layer of authenticity, though the filmmakers have yet to confirm any names.

The Director

Jennifer Peedom, an Australian filmmaker who earned the Sherpa community’s trust through her documentaries Sherpa (2015) and Mountain (2017), is directing.

With a screenplay by Luke Davies (Lion), you can expect an approach that’s both respectful and deeply moving.

Why Kathmandu?

Kathmandu isn’t just a convenient shooting spot; it’s the heart of this story.

Roughly 160 kilometers from Everest Base Camp, its bustling markets, ancient temples like Boudhanath Stupa and Pashupatinath, and easy access to the Himalayas make it ideal for scenes depicting Norgay’s early life and the expedition’s final preparations.

If our intel is right, the cast and crew are already in full swing.

Hollywood’s History with Nepal

Nepal’s cinematic appeal isn’t new: Doctor Strange (2016) highlighted its mystical temples and winding streets, while Everest (2015) captured the raw power of the mountain itself.

With Tenzing, audiences worldwide will likely get another breathtaking glimpse of the Himalayas, and perhaps plan their own journeys there.

Production Details

Filming is slated to span both Nepal and New Zealand, with Kathmandu as the central hub.

Producers Liz Watts, Emile Sherman, and Iain Canning, known for their attention to detail, are overseeing the project, and Norbu Tenzing, the climber’s son, is on board as an executive producer to ensure cultural alignment.

While our source hints at significant activity already underway, the team seems determined to keep specifics close to the vest, perhaps to avoid crowds during filming.

[geekgirles]

The Doll and the Dragon

Chapter 12: An Olive Branch

Word Count: 23568

Read on AO3

Previous/Next

Chapter Summary: "Something is brewing in the World of Twelve, something that could change the course of history forever. In the meantime, Amalia, Yugo, Adamaï, and the other inhabitants of Oma Island remain none the wiser, focusing instead on their daily lives and the issues the Council of Six still faces when it comes to being accepted into their new home. Will an unexpected request and all its possible consequences be able to change that? And will it be a change for the better, or the worse?"

In all his years, he had never beheld a more beautiful sight than that of his kingdom and its forests. There was truly nothing more wondrous than the vast green canvas that extended as far as reached the eye under a cloudless blue sky. No matter the weather, be it under the sun’s generous rays or as a rainpour beat down on them, the trees’ beauty could not be sullied. 

In summer, the trees would be bathed by golden light, turning their already vibrant green leaves into veritable emeralds. After a storm, the last few droplets would delicately tinkle down, twinkling like stars, and the morning dew allowed for the air entering their lungs with each breath to be delightfully crisp. Even in autumn, when the greenery usually lost its natural vibrancy and the trees lost their leafy mantles, the warm browns, reds, and yellows that would replace them felt just as comforting in that way only cosy afternoons spent huddled under a blanket in the comfort of your own home could achieve. 

The only thing more beautiful than their forests, and that in itself tended to spark a heated debate amongst Sadida’s followers, were the people. 

Oakheart Sheran Sharm was many things. He was a warrior, a diplomat, a man who appreciated good food even when it went against his diet, a father, as much as it pained him, a widower… But above everything else, he was the King of the Sadidas, the protector of the forests of the World of Twelve, and especially of the Tree of Life. Everything he did, he did it for his people’s sake. There was no greater honour than serving them, and no greater pride than knowing he was doing right by them. 

Perhaps the only thing that could eclipse the pride he felt for his accomplishments was that of his own son’s. Even if he would be lying if he said he understood what went on inside his heir’s head as of late. He drew in a deep breath, his frown fading into resignation. 

Knowing better than to dwell on matters that would only spiral down into unproductive arguments, the Sadida King set his eyes onto his kingdom once more. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips at the sight of his beloved subjects roaming the streets and going on about their day. 

Yes, Sadida had truly blessed them with his many gifts. It was only natural that they showed him their devotion and gratefulness in return. As always, the Leafy God had yet again granted them the means to do so. 

Prince Armand remained by his father’s side, watching their kingdom from the great plateau guarding the entrance to the throne room with similar stoicism. And yet, his dark brown eyes kept darting towards his father, unease creasing his eyebrows slightly so. 

In all his years standing by the king’s side in preparation for his own ascension to the throne, there were still times where the Crown Prince could not for the life of him decipher what his father was thinking. And, in spite of his feigned agreement back at the summit with the other nations, the king’s current plan was no exception. 

Hopefully, a certain someone’s tardiness would be enough to enlighten the stubborn king on why it was better to just give up on his latest idea. 

“He has yet to come, Father.” He prodded, his expression souring when all he received was a disengaged grunt from the king. His next words held a little more bite. “How do we know his mistresses haven’t decided to go back on their word to help us?”

This time, Oakheart shot a brief side glance at his son. “Now, Armand. What have I told you about rushing to pass judgement? A good king knows how to exercise some patience.”

“A good king also knows how to anticipate himself to any setbacks.” He bit back, impatient. “And relying solely on Master Joris could very well work against—.” His father silently raising a hand was enough to put a halt in his tirade. 

The Sadida Prince wanted to protest, but the words died in his throat when he registered a bright light from the corner of his eye. When he turned his head around, he had to bite his tongue at the sight of Master Joris calmly standing behind them, completely nonplussed even as he was surrounded by several guards pointing their spears down at his throat. Armand turned back to look at his father in quiet astonishment. Somehow, he had sensed the arrival of Bonta’s emissary even before the fact.

A knot formed in the pit of his stomach when he was once again reminded that he had yet a lot to learn before he could ascend to the throne. 

Likewise, King Oakheart didn’t even need to turn around to face his guards as he commanded, “Rest, my warriors. Master Joris is our guest.”

Master Joris simply dusted his cloak off as the Sadida guards muttered quiet apologies and drew back their weapons. Placing his log to his side, he knelt down in respect in front of the royal family, his head hung low. 

“Greetings, honourable Sadida. I sincerely apologise for my tardiness.”

At that, King Oakheart finally whirled around to greet their guest, a calm smile on his mane-covered lips. “Please, Master Joris, none of that. We understand how busy you are, we are merely thankful you could spare some of your precious time to us.”

“I gave my word, Your Majesty.” The short hero nodded solemnly, only then did he rise to his feet. His dark, sharp gaze flickered over to the prince. “Greetings, Prince Armand. It is good to see you as well.”

“Likewise, Master Joris.” His cordial tone was clipped, almost forced. Not because he didn’t respect a hero as esteemed as the Bontarian, but because he had just been forced to take back his words. 

Choosing to ignore his son’s temper for the time being, the Sadida King strolled towards the large, leaf-shaped gates guarding the throne room in an almost leisurely walk, his hands behind his back. With a nod of his head, he beckoned his companions to follow him. 

Once they were all inside and King Sheran Sharm had regained his rightful position in the mossy throne ruling over the room while Armand and Joris remained at his feet, separated by the small pond leading up to the symbol of his status, it was time to talk business. 

“I cannot thank you enough for taking the time to fulfill my request, Master Joris.” 

But the ambassador merely inclined his head further down. “There is no need to thank me, Your Majesty. I am merely doing my job.” He raised his head to stare the king in the eye. “As I said back at the assembly, I speak in the name of the Queens of Bonta when I say you can count on us for anything you might need, especially for something like this.”

Oakheart nodded curtly. “In that case, tell Queens Astra and Selene that they have my thanks.” He then fell silent, his large hands coming to rest on his lap as he considered their next course of action. After a minute or two of silent deliberation, he peeked an eye open. “Are you certain you will be able to carry out this task without issue?”

“Certainly, my King.” Joris said, not an ounce of hesitation in his voice. He was about to elaborate when Armand’s impatient tone broke through the conversation.

“And what about the consequences of carrying it out?” He questioned, his brow creased into a cynical glare. “It was already risky enough to invite them to Bonta, but this—.”

“Prince Armand!” King Oakheart roared, cutting the prince’s rant off and standing up from his throne as he looked down to his only son, equal parts irritation and disappointment flashing through his eyes. “We have already talked about this and we agreed it was the best course of action. I will not be accepting any sort of insubordination from you!”

“But father—!”

“Silence!”

The king’s shouted order reverberated around the room, effectively quieting the prince’s protests. After that, silence did indeed reign supreme and the air became charged with the unmistakable feeling of confrontation. As father and son entered a staring competition, the only thing that managed to break the tense quiet was their laboured breathing as they stared each other down. 

At least, Prince Armand stood down with a tsk! of his tongue, stubbornly averting his gaze as his hands came to curl into fists at his sides. 

Armand wanted to argue against his father’s insistence on his plan, he really did, but one glance at him, an expectant eyebrow directed straight at his son, told the prince that he was expected to let the matter go. Still, he couldn’t not voice his thoughts, not yet. He had to try to reason with his father one last time.

He glanced up at the king, hoping to convey the seriousness of his request, pleading with his father to listen to him and his contributions for once. He already knew he didn’t exactly approve of his marriage to Aurora and his plans for the future of the Sadida Kingdom, but if he could only listen to him on this…

“Please, Father. I beg you to reconsider. Are you certain of this?”

Although the earnestness in Armand’s voice compared to his previous impudence softened Oakheart’s heart, it did nothing to break his resolve. So, hardening his soul as much as his stance, his mind was made up. “Yes, my son. I am certain. Remember, this is not a decision taken on a whim, but one taken out of consideration for Sadida’s will. As his humble servants, this is the least we can do to protect his legacy.”

It was at that moment that Joris chose to speak up again. He shot a reassuring glance the prince’s way. “Rest assured, Your Highness. Even when I presented myself unannounced to investigate the matter of the Sadida woman’s sightings, they were nothing but courteous, if a little reserved. 

“Likewise, it must be said that their behaviour at Bonta was faultless—barring the incident with Count Harebourg.” He admitted quietly. “I am confident we have nothing to fear.”

Knowing his father wouldn’t listen to him no matter how much he fought him on the matter, instead of trying to refute the Bontarian’s point, the Sadida Prince eased out a heavy sigh in defeat.

“Thank you, Master Joris. Let us hope you are right.”

He supposed he would have no choice but to keep an eye open just in case, he thought to himself. 

Satisfied with his son's acquiescence, King Sheran Sharm shot one last resolute look at the Bontarian. “You know what to do, then.”

With one final nod, Joris finally rose to his full height from his knelt down position. “Yes, my King. I will not let you down.”

.......................................................................................................................

As God of Nature, Sadida was a creator. While Osamodas’ dragons brought life to what would then become the World of Twelve, it was thanks to his contributions that their precious, little planet was brimming with life. It was all part of a sacred cycle. Without plants, animals and humans alike couldn’t survive, and without them, life couldn’t flourish. Likewise, it was thanks to his gift to his people that the World of Twelve was overflowing with wakfu even without the presence of Eliatrope. 

The Leafy God had to suppress a shudder. He dreaded even thinking about what their world would look like without his plants and the wakfu they provided. 

His uneasy grimace faded into a sad frown at the memory of the Goddess of Love. Not for the first time, the Doll Master found himself wondering how much more beautiful and prosperous the World of Twelve would have been with the Great Goddess’ help, but alas, she made her choice all those years ago, leaving them no other alternative. 

Whatever alternative reality where they all got to coexist together would never be anything more than that, a ‘what if.’

And yet, her people had found their way to the World of Twelve on their own. Perhaps Twelvians and Eliatropes were bound to live together, after all. Maybe sending Amalia to them had truly been for the best. 

At the memory of his youngest, Sadida set his focus back on his frolicking daughters. All nine of them. Even the smile painted on his wooden mask accentuated itself a little at the sight of them. 

Maminala and Dathura, always the sweet, placid ones, were engrossed in avid conversation, with the turquoise-haired doll holding her much smaller big sister in the palm of her hand. Razeriana and Ibago, coquettish as they were, lay down on the grass, letting the sun’s warm rays bathe their stitched-up skin and colour their raggedy flesh. Knowing them, they expected their natural colours to be more vibrant than ever by the time they were done.  

Compared to their appearance-conscious sisters, the much more sportive Ballodana and Ladysally were dancing to the beat of the music played by Lophapharo, their hips swaying playfully from side to side. Perhaps, as a father, he should have been worried that his second eldest was using Peparava’s squishy form as a set of bongos, but the laughing doll didn’t seem to mind, so who was he to spoil their fun?

Yes, perhaps Sadida was the God of Nature and a creator by trade, but there was no denying his daughters were his true pride and joy. 

He tried to ignore the pang of melancholy that resonated throughout his chest at the thought of their absent family members. 

Shaking his head to rid himself of that train of thought, just as he was about to join his girls, something from behind him made Ladysally perk up in surprise and point behind him. 

“Oh, Father! Look! The Great Huntress has come to grace us with her presence!”

At the sound of the well-known epithet, Sadida immediately swiveled his head around and over his shoulder. Lo and behold, there she was. With her seemingly endless cascade of platinum blond hair, flawless features, and immeasurable grace combined with the deathly precision with which she carried her mystical bow was none other than Cra herself. 

A soft smile illuminated her face like her moonlight skin. 

“Do forgive the intrusion, my dear friend.” Her voice rang out like bells. “I sure hope I did not interrupt anything of importance.”

Before Sadida could so much as utter a word, Yopo, who up until that point had been listening to Lophapharo’s improvised notes, scrambled to dissuade the goddess’ worries. “Oh, not at all, Your Excellency! We were just enjoying some quiet family time.” The cactus-like doll shrank in on herself when she took notice of her father’s disapproving glare for speaking out of turn. 

Luckily for her, it seemed Cra found her lack of proper decorum amusing, for she simply hid a fond chuckle behind a delicate, gloved hand. “Oh, but my dear Yopo, spending time with your family is the most important thing of all!” She exclaimed with mock shame, bringing a hand to her ample bosom. “I see now I have committed a grave sin. Could you ever forgive me?”

While the more naive and irony-blind Divine Dolls scrambled to assure the Woodland Beauty that she could do no wrong in their eyes, both their more savvy sisters and their father rolled their eyes. Although in Sadida’s case, his mild exasperation was directed at his dear old friend. 

“My dear Cra, please, cease your teasing.” He sighed. “In case you haven’t noticed, my daughters don’t always recognise when someone jests.”

The archer goddess giggled again. “My apologies.” She said airily, causing Sadida to narrow his eyes at her from behind his mask. 

She wasn’t sorry at all. 

Choosing to let it go, he simply smirked up at his old friend. “Fake contrition aside, to what do we owe the pleasure of this visit?”

“I simply came to see how things were unfolding.”

Sadida knew Cra enough to be able to see through her simple, noncommittal response and immediately understand the true meaning of her words. She was asking about Amalia.

With a quiet sigh, the Leafy God beckoned for her to follow him while he instructed his other daughters to go back to what they were doing. His Divine Dolls knew better than to argue, so with a few exchanged looks and a shrug of their shoulders, they let the matter go as they tried to focus back on their activities before they spotted the elven deity. 

Sadida led Cra through the lush forests of his domain, chivalrously holding a hand out to help her whenever the terrain became trickier to navigate. Had it come from any other man, mortal or god, Cra would have made the depth of her offence known and personally punish the chauvinistic pig for daring to look down on her. But coming from the Father of the Tree People, she knew he was just being considerate since no one knew his dimension (or the extent of her temper) quite like he did. 

She and Sadida had always been close, but apparently, the fact that he was a willing and perfectly content ‘Girl Dad’—as mortals liked to say nowadays—had turned him into an even more considerate soul when it came to women. 

The fact that he didn’t lust after them like most gods did certainly didn’t hurt either. 

At long last, after guiding Cra through a particularly treacherous path while she carefully lifted her long, lime-green dress, they arrived at the portal to the Living Realm, tucked away in between a circle of sturdy oaks. 

With a sweep of his mossy hand, the bright, swirling vortex at their feet gained form. The non-distinct shapes gave way to more defined images until a clear picture of Amalia, alongside Yugo and his dragon twin, appeared. They seemed to be headed somewhere outside of the palace yet within its vicinity. 

Sadida couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips at the sight of his daughter’s laughing face. “As you can see, she seems to be doing well. It has only been a few months, yet she is already remarkably close to King Yugo and his brother.”

“Yes, that is a most welcome development.” Cra concurred with a nod. “Especially after he seemed so adamant against having a bride.” She shot her friend a meaningful glance from the corner of her eye, gauging his reaction. 

Much to her resigned frustration, the god gave nothing away. Which was quite a feat, considering his wooden mask reflected his emotions rather than hide them from view. 

“It might not have been easy at first, but I believe we will be able to reap the fruits of our labour soon.”

The blonde deity smirked to herself when her keen blue eyes noticed the way he subtly tightened his hold on his crossed arms. She still vividly remembered the amount of effort it took him to downplay his offence when Yugo had the audacity to reject Amalia as his bride-to-be, only calming himself down when the Eliatrope insisted on housing her and being ‘friends.’

And when he started pulling away from her after what by all intents and purposes had been a successful escapade to the beach? The only way to calm the irate father down was to promise to have thousands of magic arrows rain down on Oma Island if the issue didn’t resolve itself soon. 

Fortunately, it did. And it was all Amalia’s doing. 

(Although Sadida and Xelor’s rapports had been rather frosty—pun non-intended— after Count Harebourg dared to try to pull that stunt with her). 

But Osamodas’ orders had been clear. They were to stay out of things and let Amalia navigate everything on her own lest it was absolutely necessary they intervened. 

Because she was only second to Sadida himself when it came to knowing his daughter’s disadventures, she had a very good idea about what the Leafy God was thinking. 

“You’re worried.” She said bluntly. 

“Any parent would be with their child so far away from home.”

“I’m not.” She pointed out matter-of-factly. “In fact, I think we can all agree you’re the only one of us who takes such a hands-on approach to parenting.”

Sadida chose to bite back his tongue and refrain from making a scathing remark about how his fellow gods’ approach to parenting basically amounted to letting their orphans roam the world without any kind of guidance. He knew better than to question a deity’s way of being. Their followers had been on the verge of starting enough wars in their name already. 

So, instead, he just grunted with a shrug. “I suppose I will always worry about my children, especially when I can’t be there with them. Although I must admit I am immensely proud of all she has accomplished in such a short amount of time.

“She has grown extremely close to Yugo, as we expected. She has slowly but surely earned the Eliatropes’ trust and respect. Her presence has left quite an impact on our followers, as predicted… All in all, everything is going according to plan.”

“And yet, you still cannot get the image of the Turquoise dragon, Efrim, attacking her or the world’s rulers doubting our reasoning behind her presence off of your mind.” She guessed gently, her perfectly shaped brow creasing in sympathy for her friend. 

Even his mask seemed to darken as he searched the words. “I will admit that that was… most troubling.” He settled on after a while. 

To be perfectly frank, Sadida surprised even himself with the evenness in his voice. For all the power and wisdom his divinity granted him, even he was left powerless at the sight of his daughter in danger—at the knowledge that he couldn’t do anything for her. Couldn’t protect her. 

At that moment, when the smallest Eliatrope dragon had her pinned against the dirty floor, spouting venom in her face with the clear intention of diminishing her worth, the Doll Master wanted nothing more than to summon a monstrous, carnivorous plant that would swallow him whole. But his hands were tied, much to his chagrin. 

It was no longer a matter of having agreed to refrain from intervening unless absolutely necessary—because at that moment, with Amalia’s life at risk, he couldn't think of a time where it was more necessary to act—, but because if he acted on her behalf, Sadida had the feeling Efrim’s suspicions would be confirmed and his enmity towards Amalia would only increase. 

With his sister as witness, they couldn’t afford the Eliatropes’ trust in Amalia being broken due to a bout of paternal protectiveness. 

His rage eventually tapered off when the dragon revealed he had some level of restraint and awareness of the consequences his actions could have for his people. But the harm had already been done. If Amalia had been wary and aware of his dislike for her before, now the mere mention of her detractor put her on edge. 

At first, he had wanted nothing more than to march up to his fellow gods and demand his daughter return home before it was too late, but then…

“I do not know if it is youthful foolishness and cockiness or a determination seldom seen, but Amalia’s will to surpass herself is stronger than the roots of millennium-old trees.” Cra didn’t miss the tinge of paternal pride in his voice, a small smile tugging at the corner of her plump lips. 

“She is your creation.” She reminded him warmly. “There are few beings more exceptional than Sadida’s Divine Dolls; you made it so it would be so.”

“And yet, my daughters manage to surprise me with the depth of their gifts every single day.”

A soft laugh escaped the goddess in the form of a huff. Never losing her placid expression even at her friend’s modesty, she let her pools of blue wander downwards, her blonde eyebrows raising slightly at what the portal showed them. King Yugo and his dragon twin seemed to be stretching their muscles—no doubt about to partake in some kind of vigorous physical activity—, while Amalia came to lounge on top of the stairs leading up to the entrance located right next to the training grounds they found themselves in, watching intently. 

The Great Huntress raised an eyebrow at that. She knew from Sadida that Yugo and Amalia had established this sort of routine early on where the Eliatrope would train just outside her balcony and she would watch. She also knew from her friend, who’d retold the events with a clear tinge of pride in his voice, that Amalia now spent her afternoons alongside the Eliatrope children and the Council members in charge of their education, honing her own skills. However, the fact that now she was apparently allowed near the Council’s personal training grounds belied the level of trust she had cultivated during her time on Oma Island. 

It was truly remarkable, indeed. 

Blinking rapidly, she was broken out of her thoughts by the sound of the nature god calling her name, “To tell you the truth, my dear Cra, each and every day my little Amalia floors me with her strength of will. The amount of challenges she is overcoming practically single-handedly despite her short age are nothing short of commendable!”

The elven beauty could hear the slight note of apprehension in his tone despite his best attempt at hiding it. 

“But…?”

“But, you are right.” He admitted with a grunt, his eyes narrowing behind his mask as he observed the portal. “Our followers and Efrim’s suspicions of her do trouble me immensely. I worry for her safety.”

“As any good father would, my friend.” She assured him, placing a comforting, gloved hand on his bare shoulder. 

Once again, Sadida wisely chose not to comment on Cra’s unexpected wisdom given her own treatment of her offspring. Instead, he took her words as the comforting balm they were meant to be. 

“To answer your previous question,” he said all of a sudden, in a rare instance where the huntress was caught off guard. “There has been a most peculiar development as of late.”

That piqued her interest, even though she already had quite a good guess as to what it might be. “Oh? Do tell.”

“The Sheran Sharms, my most trusted followers, have hatched a plan. Hopefully, it will at the very least be a step in the right direction to ensuring Amalia’s safety outside of Inglorium.” 

He let out a heavy sigh as the image shifted to his worshippers’ kingdom with a snap of his fingers. The entire domain was a flurry of activity. Sadida of all stations were hard at work, preparing for the upcoming event that might be the catalyst for a marked shift in their lives. The only one who seemed mostly unconcerned was that one Osamodas princess the Crown Prince had recently married, but what else was new? 

In all his time overseeing his people since she arrived, he couldn’t remember a single time where she appeared to be invested in anything the Sadida were doing unless it directly affected her or her homeland. 

His eyes narrowing in on her and what Amalia’s existence might have meant for her family, Sadida’s words held more than one meaning. “I sure hope King Oakheart and Prince Armand will be able to look after Amalia and help her.”

“Fear not, my friend.” Cra said suddenly, her voice dripping with confidence and the assurance of someone who knew something you didn’t. He honestly resented whenever she got not-so-unintentionally condescending with him. “Amalia will be safe—I will personally see that it is so.”

The holes in the god’s mask were as round as the moon. “Could it be? Is it possible that you are looking after my daughter as well, my dear?”

“There is much at stake.” She stated with an impassive shrug of her shoulders. It was followed shortly after by a sideway glance and a smirk directed at him. For once, the Woodland Beauty allowed herself to be candid and sincere, instead of calculatingly measuring every word that left her mouth in case it could be used against her. “She is your daughter, my dear Sadida. For that alone I am almost as adverse as you are to the mere idea of harm befalling her.” Her expression turning into a stoney mask yet again, she faced forwards. “She will be safe, you have my word.”

Sadida was touched by the goddess’ kindness and care for him. With how she carried herself most of the time—poised, aloof, and impervious to anything she considered to be beneath her (which was a lot of things)—, it was easy to forget that once you’d earned Cra’s respect and admiration, you had likewise earned a powerful and wise ally that would stop at nothing to help you. 

Still, that begged the question…

“What do you intend to do?”

Her mysterious grin was both assuring and disconcerting. “Let us just say that my dear followers cannot decline a task recommended to them by none other than their goddess. And I have entrusted this one to a most special Cra.”

......................................................................................................................

It was undeniable that Amalia watching Yugo as he trained below (and above) her balcony had become routine at that point. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say it was a daily occurrence. 

Right before breakfast, Yugo would arrive at her door and knock on it gently, partly to inform her of his presence, partly to wake her up in case she had fallen asleep. At the sound of his arrival, Amalia would perk up in anticipation and eagerly welcome him inside. As the two friends crossed her room, side by side, headed to her balcony, they exchanged some pleasant small talk, mostly asking about the other’s well-being and if they had anything planned for the day. And then, Yugo would come to hover over the ballastrude and with one wink that Amalia swore got cheekier by the day and a mock salute, he would throw himself backwards into the void. 

And the show would begin. 

By the time Yugo was done training and Amalia was done swooning, their stomachs would grumble in protest and break them out of whatever little moment they might be sharing, reminding them that they had yet to eat. And so, with a bashful laugh, the king would escort the doll out of her room and towards the dining room, where they would finally get to fill their bellies with a hearty breakfast and their hearts would swell at the pleasant conversation between them.

That day, however, they were trying something a little different.

Amalia’s face when she opened the door that morning had been one of quiet surprise. Not like he could blame her. Adamaï had presented himself alongside him at her door without so much as a warning. As a matter of fact, the dragon hadn’t even warned his twin about his intended visit to the Divine Doll. 

Much to his annoyance and embarrassment, before he even had the chance to protest, Adamaï simply smirked. 

“Oh, don’t get your cape into a twist, Lil’ Bro. I just want to spar a little with you and see how Amalia’s doing. I have no intention of stealing her from you.”

Yugo absolutely did not squawk in embarrassment at that. Nor when the dragon teasingly accused him of monopolising Amalia’s time. 

And that was how they found themselves in front of a slightly bewildered Amalia, who could only tilt her head in curiosity as Ad explained his idea to be Yugo’s sparring partner and use the opportunity to see how far she had come in her studies with Glip. The confusion briefly returned when she gestured for them to come inside, only for Adamaï to politely decline, stating he had a different idea in mind. 

All Yugo could do was shrug helplessly when the doll shot him a questioning look, silently asking him to enlighten her on his twin’s train of thought. 

If only he knew…

Seeing their little interaction, the Emerald dragon rolled his eyes so far to the back of his head he could probably see his own brain. 

“Relax, you too.” He scoffed. “We’re just going to the training grounds.”

While Yugo understood what he meant immediately, his face easing into a more relaxed grin as he nodded his approval, the same couldn’t be said for the doll. 

“You mean the ones back at the village? Doesn’t Glip usually prepare them for class around this hour?”

“He means the ones located within the palace confines.” Yugo explained, taking pity on her confused state. “While the ones at the village are usually reserved for the children, the ones we’re going to are primarily used by our soldiers and the Council.”

“Oh, yeah! I remember something like that…” For a moment, the glimmer in her brown gaze turned dimmed as memories of the time Yugo kept his distance washed over her. 

Then, the gears started turning in her head and she furrowed her brow. “That still doesn’t explain why we’re going there in the first place.” 

Adamaï just shrugged. “I just figured it was high time we showed it to you.” He flashed her a challenging smirk, all his pointy teeth in full display. “That, and I for one am rather eager to see what Glip has been teaching you, Amalia. It’s not everyday that we get to see you in action.”

Yugo perked up at that, the ears on his hood standing tall and proud. He had to push down the rush of excitement he felt at the thought of seeing Amalia’s battle prowess. She already left him speechless whenever she used her powers, regardless of how mundane the utility. The mere thought of her in battle was enough to increase his blood flow and make his blood grow hot. It was a little annoying, to be perfectly honest. 

He already knew he was in love with her. Did every little thing have to remind him of how utterly smitten he was?

But, much to the twins’ mutual bewilderment, all Amalia did in response was stare back and forth between the two of them, her chocolate eyes narrowed in suspicion. 

“Do we have to use a portal to get there?” She asked flatly. 

Yugo exchanged a look with Adamaï. “Uh… No. As Ad said, it’s within palace confines. We should be there in about ten minutes by foot.”

And just like that, her whole demeanour changed. 

A wide grin stretching over her face and her hands clasped before her, the Divine Doll practically dashed towards her balcony, her words trailing off behind her. “In that case, what are you waiting for?! Let’s go!”

As soon as she reached the edge, she propelled herself forwards and onto the ground, indifferent to the neck-breaking height she was plunging herself into. But just as Yugo and Adamaï were on the verge of a heart attack—the Eliatrope had already shot forward with the intention of catching her, while his dragon twin stood, horrified, with one claw outstretched after her—, her glorious mane of green hair emerged from below, slowly revealing the rest of her lovely form. 

The Eliatrope King skidded to a stop when Amalia appeared riding a giant tendril, sending them a cheeky grin over her shoulder. He didn’t need to look to know that his brother was openly gawking as he came to stand by his side. They usually wore matching expressions, after all, and this was no exception. 

Once their astonishment had worn off, the two of them shrugged and joined Amalia on her unorthodox means of transportation (although, considering she was a Sadida Doll, it was probably quite common for her). Only when the plant had carefully placed them on the floor beneath her room, did they resume their march and their explanation of their destination.

Amalia paid rapt attention. Apparently, the only real difference between Glip’s arena and the training grounds, apart from who used each and their locations, was that the latter was better equipped to handle more experienced Wakfung warriors. Hence why the members of the Council of Six preferred to work out there—less need to hold back lest they risked destroying something from an unchecked attack. 

Upon finally reaching the place in question, it wasn’t hard to see why. 

Unlike the children’s arena, there was no fighting pit, most likely because experienced Eliatropes could take a fight everywhere, including the skies, she guessed. Instead, there were many targets located several metres away from the firing zone. A few guards, with their feet planted firmly on the ground, demonstrated its use by firing wakfu beams out of their hands and straight at the white-and-blue targets. The doll’s eyes trailed upwards when a plume of smoke would billow out each time beam and hay collided. 

Amalia marvelled at the obstacle course. She hadn’t seen one since they momentarily moved out of Baltazar’s class to begin with Glip’s Wakfung training. Even after seeing Yugo perform even more awe-inspiring acrobatics on a daily basis, the kind of mobility and agility the Eliatropes’ portal-making granted them was still incredible. Most Twelvians would have to find their own way of passing through the rings, especially the ones standing several metres tall, and some would have better luck than others, but not the Eliatropes. All they had to do was either jump from one portal to the next, following a turquoise-tiled path; or glide straight through the ring like it wasn’t even there. 

She had to pick up her slackened jaw from the floor when Yugo called out for her to follow them to a more remote area. 

“This is where the Council trains.” He gestured around him as soon as she was back by his side. 

“I have to admit, this is very cool.” She looked around, smiling at the grounds they were currently standing on. They were more spacious than the rest of the camp. “So what do we do now?”

“You can go sit back and watch how I kick my brother’s butt into oblivion.” Adamaï boasted then, sliding up next to a very annoyed-looking Yugo and clasping a claw over his shoulder. 

“Excuse me?!” The king sputtered, getting in his brother’s scaly, smirking face. “Did you already forget who’s the better fighter here?”

The dragon shrugged, all-too-innocently. “Why don’t you remind me? Unless you’re all talk.” He shot back, his lips parting away to reveal his very sharp canines as he, quite literally, butted heads with his brother. 

Watching them get in each other’s faces like that, Amalia worried for a moment that an actual fight was about to break out. However, one glance at Yugo and she immediately relaxed. The cocky smirk he wore, and that was mirrored by Adamaï’s very own, belied the playful nature of their competitive streak.

She felt comfortable enough to make a sarcastic comment of her own. 

“Do I need to grab you by the waist with my vines and separate you, or are you good?”

At her teasing threat, accentuated by her hip jutting out and the eyebrow she raised in amusement, the Emerald Twins momentarily gaped at her, blinking slowly. After a beat, though, the three of them broke down laughing. With a sigh and shake of his head, his hand coming to brush his dirty blond bangs out of his eyes, Yugo turned to point at some steps leading up to a door Amalia only now realised was there. 

“You can sit over there to watch us fight, Amalia. Trust me, while they might not be actual bleachers, those steps have the best, and safest, view of the ring.” 

Her brow furrowed as her eyes trailed over to where her friend was pointing at. “But I thought you guys wanted to see what I can do?” She crossed her arms pointedly. “Watching is hardly the same as fighting.”

Just as Yugo began to sputter out a nervous explanation, Adamaï came to his rescue, as always. He gently placed his tail on top of Amalia’s shoulder, her gaze darting between the limb and his face when he spoke. “That’s true. But we mostly want to see how far your powers have come.”

“Then, wouldn’t a battle between us be the best way to determine that?” She shot back, unimpressed. “Master Glip always says you never know what you’re capable of until you’re forced to react in the heat of the moment.”

“That’s true.” Yugo agreed, mimicking his brother and draping his arm around her other shoulder. He tried to ignore the way his skin tingled at the contact even through his suit. “But do you seriously think you have improved enough to be able to face off against Ad and I?”

He had her with his rhetorical question and he knew it. As proud as Amalia could be, she wasn’t stupid—she knew when she was biting more than she could chew, forcing her to begrudgingly relent in her pursuit. 

His cheeky grin widened in triumph at the sigh of her reluctant pout, her brow creased in deep irritation. “I hate it when you have a point.”

Laughing heartily, the king threw his hands up. “Can’t help it if I’m right.” He only laughed harder when she poked him on the chest with an accusatory finger. 

“You could keep your unquestionable logic to yourself!” She cried, trying very hard not to laugh as well. “Nobody likes a know-it-all!”

“Well, nobody likes a sore loser either, yet here you are.”

“How dare you?!” This time, she let out a sound that was a mix between a guffaw and an offended squawk. 

The Eliatrope broke down laughing, throwing his head back, when her face scrunched up petulantly, her hands balled into fists at her sides. However, it was Adamaï’s turn to hide a chortle behind his claws when an impish flicker passed through Amalia’s eyes and her expression eased into mischief. 

He stopped making a show of trying to contain his laughter when the Divine Doll launched herself at Yugo and began poking and pinching and tickling him as he futilely flailed his arms around in between stolen giggles and begged her to stop. After a while, their fun was cut short when the king finally managed to secure Amalia’s wrist in his grasp and bring her closer to him, so close their laboured breaths intermingled. 

“Attacking me when my guard is down, huh?” He panted, his smile peeking through his lips. “That’s low.”

“Not as low as being infuriatingly right!” 

He laughed, incredulous. “That doesn’t even make sense!”

The sound of someone clearing their throat broke them out of their trance. Eyes widening like saucers, the two of them slowly, very slowly, turned their heads at the same time in search of the origin of the sound. A heated wave washed over them when they finally took notice of, not just the very smug-looking Adamaï raising an eyebrow at them, but the small group of onlookers their antics had attracted as well. The small squadron of training guards peering over at them from their positions on the opposite end of the field sent forth yet another wave of heat straight to their faces. 

They pried their hands off each other and jumped several metres back and away from the other as fast as if they’d been burned. Though, judging from the crimson red on their cheeks, Adamaï noted, spontaneous combustion wasn’t completely off the table. 

As much as he hated breaking up their little moment—even if they refused to admit it, he had long resigned himself to the role of third wheel—, they came here for a reason, and it didn’t include those two flirting (this much). 

“As nice as this all is,” he gestured at his twin and the doll, his smirk growing when that alone made them squirm. “I’m afraid I have a lesson to teach to my brother. So if you two would be so kind…”

And just like that, the fire of embarrassment coursing through Yugo’s veins had been replaced by the electric feeling only a challenge could provide. “Oh, you’re on!” Much more softly and more gently, he turned to the Sadida Doll. “Amalia, when Ad and I are done with our training, why don’t you show us what you’ve been learning with Glip these past few weeks?”

Her cheeks still a little pink from earlier, the doll couldn’t help but smile at his request, shyly brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Sure thing, Yugo.”

As Adamaï called out to his brother to finally get started and the Eliatrope twin, between half-hearted ‘Yeah, yeah. I’m coming!’s, marched up towards him, Amalia decided to follow their earlier advice and made her way over to the steps Yugo had pointed at. 

Upon reaching her destination, the doll carefully and elegantly settled into the stoney stairs, bringing her knees to her chest as she eagerly set her gaze onto the two opposing brothers. She felt a tingle of excitement run down her spine when she took in the matching determined, if a little bit cocky, expressions plastered over both Eliatrope and dragon’s faces. 

One minute they were staring each other down on land, the next they had shot upwards at lightning speed, kicking up a smoke cloud after them that had Amalia shielding her face with her arms. After blinking the dirt in her eyes away a few times, the doll craned her neck up and gasped. 

Even with all her practice watching Yugo, it took her an incredible amount of effort to be able to follow their movements, her eyes darting every which way as they tried to keep up with the pair of battlers zooming by. It was like trying to find a pesky moskito, one minute it would be in one corner of the room, and the next it would whoosh through the air and materialise on the opposite corner. 

Even the ever familiar blue trail Yugo left after him did little to help Amalia locate him, as it blended in with the azure of the sky. 

Biting the inside of her cheek in annoyance, her head resting against her palm, she couldn’t help but sarcastically wonder how they expected her to watch and learn if she couldn’t even see. 

“Hey!” She called after them, cupping her hands around her mouth to better project her voice. She allowed the small feeling of triumph when she got them to halt their movements in mid-air, their eyes big and round as they stared owlishly down at her in confusion. 

“As impressive as this all is,” she gestured between the two of them. “Not all of us have a Cra’s enhanced sight.” Then, her shoulders slumped forward, her voice and eyes pleading. “Could you guys slow down even a little bit, please?”

Wincing as realisation struck them, both Yugo and Adamaï rubbed the back of their necks sheepishly and wore chagrined expressions as they mumbled apologies and promises to try and control themselves for Amalia. And with a pleased ‘Thank you’ from her, they went back at it. 

Only at a pace that would allow the untrained eye to actually observe their movements. 

Yugo had summoned his wakfu sword and shield, his cloak rustling after him with the wind, while Adamaï had unfolded his wings, flapping once or twice every few minutes to keep himself afloat, his tail flickering in anticipation as he adopted a fighting stance.  

And then, they lunged at each other. 

Adamaï thrust a claw forward, straight for his twin’s abdomen, only for Yugo to block his attempts with his shield. Each time the dragon tried to connect a scratch, the Eliatrope King would follow with his shield, preventing any damage from being done to his body. What he hadn’t expected, however, was that that was exactly what Adamaï had been counting on. As the last fake attempt at clawing at him led Yugo to raise his only means of protection above eye-level, the Emerald dragon took the opening he needed to whip at his torso with his tail, sending the king back a few metres in the air. 

Forcing his propelling body to stop before he flew off too far away, despite the frustration he felt with himself for falling for such an old trick, Yugo still smirked. Maybe Ad was in the lead of their imaginary score for managing to connect the first hit, but he wouldn’t be able to keep the position for long after giving his brother some much needed space. 

With a swift movement, Yugo raised his weapons over his shoulders and willed the energy to shift and react to his orders. He went from wielding a sword and a shield to two matching spears in an instant. Just as the colour drained from Adamaï’s face as he realised what his twin intended to do, the Eliatrope didn’t waste a single second and hurled the lances forward and in his direction, the projectiles slicing through the air. 

Cursing under his breath, the dragon was quick to flap his wings as he tried to manoeuvre around the incoming projectiles. Given his large girth compared to the size of the spears, his attempts were a little awkward. Seeing as the two energy weapons were headed straight at him at the same time, Ad tried taking advantage of the small distance between the two of them Yugo had inadvertently created with his own head and, with a beat of his wings and a twirl, miraculously sidestepped them. 

He watched the retreating projectiles for a second before he sharply whirled his head around to flash his brother a successful smirk. 

“Ha!” He exclaimed, but the feeling was short-lived, for his brother was no longer anywhere to be seen. 

His horned head shooting up in alarm, Adamaï began frantically looking everywhere around him, fully expecting his Eliatrope twin to appear at any moment. Unfortunately, he always forgot to look down. 

“Over here.” Yugo’s infuriatingly smug voice sang from underneath him. Looking down at his smirking brother, Adamaï only had a few seconds to register what happened before Yugo kicked him in the stomach and sent him flying upwards with a cheeky wink and a hastily added, “This is for the cheap tail shot.”

And Amalia was watching it all with awe in her eyes. 

Now that the Emerald Twins had slowed down, she caught their every move. Adamaï shapeshifting into a white-and-blue golem-like creature as he tried to smack Yugo around. Yugo retaliating by zipping past his twin with his superior speed and shooting wakfu beams at him from all angles thanks to his portals. Adamaï changing tactics and getting his fire breath involved, forcing Yugo to retreat by diving in and out of a series of portals he summoned all around his brother, his motions like diving in and out of the sea.

It was easy to see the members of the Council were in a league of their own. Amalia had kind of always known that, thanks to watching the king’s training sessions and then studying under Glip, but actually getting to see just how badly Yugo and Adamaï outclassed their subjects blew all those other experiences out of the water. 

The doll had no way of determining who would win. They seemed to be so equally matched. 

Unbeknownst to her, however, Yugo had long decided there was no way he would lose against his dragon twin now that he had the chance to really show off in front of the doll. 

Next thing she knew, Yugo had Adamaï pinned down against the floor, one hand pushing his head against the ground while the other held his brother’s arms to prevent him from getting away. The rest of his sculpted, athletic physique focused on keeping the dragon down. 

“Now, who is the better fighter?” He asked wryly as he leered down at his twin. 

“Okay, okay! I get it!” Ad grunted, trying to make one last futile attempt at wringing himself free. He plopped back down on the floor with a thud! and a sulk when it was apparent he wouldn’t have that much luck. 

“Who, dear brother?”

Ad rolled his eyes with a grumble. “Fine! I yield! You’re the better fighter! Happy now?”

Oh, how he wanted to wipe that smug smirk off his pretty face. “Extremely.” And with that, he unceremoniously let his twin’s limbs drop and got up. 

Beaming widely, Amalia shot up to her feet and began clapping excitedly. Her heart skipped a beat when Yugo began to exaggeratedly bow to the audience (that is to say, her) and express his thanks. That weird feeling she got around him came back full force, and she felt a strange yet powerful wave of pride wash over her at his accomplishments and battle prowess. 

She didn’t know what it was, but there was something in the way Yugo fought—throwing himself head-first into battle, without hesitation; parring attacks and launching his own with so much precision it was almost graceful; exuding such confidence in his abilities it somehow managed to reach her and make her believe the battle was already won… Whatever it was, it never failed to make her swoon. 

A small, coy part of herself wondered if perhaps he ever felt the same way towards her when it came to her own abilities?

For better or worse, the swooning was soon replaced by uncontrollable laughter when Adamaï took advantage of Yugo’s boasting to tackle him to the ground. Just like that, they were back at roughhousing like children. 

“What was that about being the better fighter?” Adamaï teased now that he was the one on top—literally. 

“Hey, you cheated!” Yugo protested. He tried to sound intimidating, but the mirth and slight whine in his voice made that nearly impossible. 

The dragon pretended to consider his words for a moment, before dismissing them with a nonchalant shrug. 

“Nah, that’s just combat pragmatism.” His fangs glinted as he smirked down at the Eliatrope. “Isn’t that what fighting is all about? Finding your opponent’s weakness and exploiting it?”

“I fail to see what that has got to do with tackling me to the ground while I wasn’t looking.” Yugo deadpanned. 

“Not my fault you’re such a showboat.”

Their childish bickering was interrupted by the loud yelps that left their throats as the two of them found themselves being hoisted up by the waist and separated. One quick glance at their midsection revealed the strong grip around it belonged to none other than one of Amalia’s thick vines. 

Once she had placed them both back down and away from each other, she sent them a knowing look, her arms crossed and her hip jutted out. 

“Sorry to interrupt your bonding activities, but I seem to remember we came here for a reason?”

The Emerald Twins exchanged a glance. 

“Yeah, to train?” Yugo tried, his face scrunched up in confusion. “But that’s what we’re doing…?” He trailed off, unsure. 

Her patient look hardening into an exasperated scowl, Amalia groaned. Rolling her eyes so far back her head she could probably see the inside of her skull, she emphatically pointed at her face with one finger and coughed loudly to get her point across. 

She fought the urge to roll her eyes yet again when realisation finally dawned on them, their lips forming a perfect ‘o’. 

“Oh, yeah! We totally forgot about you!” Adamaï said bluntly, earning himself a zap to the back of his head with a small wakfu beam by his brother. “What was that for?!” He snapped. 

“Ad!” Yugo hissed, screaming at him with his eyes to look over at Amalia. He didn’t miss the way the dragon loudly gulped when he finally heeded his warning. 

Thank Eliatrope Amalia was Sadida’s Doll instead of Cra or Sram’s daughter, because if looks could kill, they'd both be dead enough times over to break their Dofus reincarnation cycle. 

After a beat where the siblings wished their mother would put them out of their misery already, the doll’s outrage seemed to finally relent. With a resigned roll of her eyes, she huffed, her stiff posture finally relaxing as she closed the distance between them. 

“Come on, you two. Let me show you what I can do.” She told them, the tiniest hint of affection tinging her words as she clasped their shoulders. 

“Now we’re talking!” Adamaï hollered, clasping his hands in delight. Retaking the doll’s position on the set of stairs just in case, he asked, “So, what’d you have in mind, Amalia? How do you plan to surprise us today?”

At that, the Divine Doll’s confidence shrank into timidness. She couldn’t help but rub her arm nervously under their attentive gaze, especially Yugo’s eager one. “I… I don’t know, actually. A lot of the things I’ve learned are actually offensive, so it’s kind of pointless showing them off without a sparring partner.”

“In that case, why don’t you just show us something you’ve been working on with Glip?” Yugo offered, his expression softening in sympathy. Despite her early bravado, it was clear Amalia still wasn’t as secure in her powers to show off quite as much as he and Ad liked to indulge in. “It doesn’t have to be offensive.”

“That’s right.” Adamaï agreed with a nod. “Just something you think you have improved on.”

Bringing a hand to her chin, Amalia considered their words. It took her a moment, but the glimmer returned to her eyes as soon as the proverbial bulbshroom lit up in her head. 

“Okay, I think I have just the thing.”

The two brothers kept their attentive gaze on the Divine Doll, exchanging curious glances, eager to see what she’d come up with. Said eagerness was mostly reflected by Yugo, his body subconsciously leaning forward as he waited at the edge of his seat, both metaphorically and literally. Adamaï, as usual, was more subdued, with his long tail wrapped around him as he leaned back with his arms crossed, but even he had an eyebrow raised in anticipation. 

Standing several metres away from them, likewise occupying the same space they had sparred in, Amalia planted her bare feet on the ground firmly, taking the earthy feeling in as she widened her stance just the tiniest bit. Taking a deep breath, she snapped her eyes shut and brought her hands to her chest, just below her chin, facing each other while three of her fingers touched their counterpart, and concentrated. 

It was a process she always found as easy as breathing, the real challenge being stretching her skills to their full potential. As such, the moment she found her centre, her energy convening at her core, the doll blinked her eyes open, her eyebrows creased in determination. Not wasting a single second, she separated her hands and brought them back together with a clasp, an orb of greenish energy materialising between her palms.

Her little audience’s eyes widened in shock when as soon as the light came, it disappeared, but she paid them no mind, her focus on the task at hand. Under Yugo and Adamaï’s awed expressions, Amalia bent her body forwards and lifted it back up, her arms high in the air, in quick succession. Immediately after, a large, thick vine erupted from underneath her, raising its summoner high above. 

The Emerald Twins leaned back in their makeshift seats, slightly disappointed. They both winced as discreetly as they could and shared a glance. They didn’t want to look down on Amalia’s efforts, but summoning plants was already second nature to her, so they didn’t understand why she’d want to show them that in particular. Surely, she’d learned many new tricks with Glip?

It wouldn’t be long until they’d finally understand why summoning her vines was so important to Amalia. 

They’d long learned Amalia, and they assumed by extension all Sadida, used their vines as means of transportation, or even as a makeshift harness. The doll had demonstrated as such many times. But never in a million years did they expect to witness just how agile they were on those things. Even if they couldn’t just jump from portal to portal like their people did, their technique was nothing to scoff at. 

There she was, blowing them away with her control over plants. What started out as her simply summoning a bramble soon evolved into a more complicated and elaborate acrobatic display—almost like a dance. 

They watched as the verdant serpent she was on twisted and curled on itself, the doll’s balance impeccable no matter how much the plant stretched and threatened to shake her off. To the untrained eye, it would all see effortless, but Yugo and Adamaï, the former especially, caught the subtle changes in her posture to better control her centre of gravity—she would bend her knees or shift her weight from one feet to the other with every twist and turn the vine took. But no matter what, Amalia stayed on top. 

Eventually, the bramble began its steep ascension, its stem arching the higher it went. While the pair of siblings expected that to be the end of Amalia’s demonstration—as no amount of shifting her posture could save her from gravity—the Sadida Doll surprised them yet again when, just as the vine reached its peak, finally throwing her off, she pointed one glowing hand at the ground as she summoned yet another bramble that allowed her to harmlessly roll off until she was back on ground level. 

Now that she had two ‘assistants’ at her disposal, the doll smirked. The real fun could finally begin. 

Yugo could only stare, speechless, as Amalia showed off her skills, taking his breath away in the process. Now that there were two different vines, the doll could stage a pretend battle. The original plant seemed to gain a mind of its own, for it kept moving on its own accord, trying to hit a moving target; Amalia. In turn, mounted on the newly-formed plant, she easily out-maneouvred her adversary, expertly dodging each hit directed at her. 

At one point, when both brambles were close enough, feeling lucky, she took a gamble that would have made an Ecaflip proud. She leapt from the vine she was currently standing on and, with an elegant twirl in mid-air, she landed right on top of the opposite plant. Incapable of helping herself, she quickly turned her head back to her gaping audience and winked coyly, the action sending a hurricane of butterflies fluttering in the king’s stomach.

“For someone who’d much rather keep her feet on the ground, she’s not half bad in the air.” Adamaï observed, his voice low as his draconic eyes followed her every movement. 

“Yeah…” Yugo breathed out, his brain turned into mush at the display. 

For her part, that little stunt seemed to have taken more out of Amalia than she cared to admit, so, panting slightly, she decided to call it a day. With a gesture of her hands, the vine she was on lowered her back to the training grounds, right before disappearing right alongside its counterpart. 

Her breath coming out in short puffs due to the physical exertion, the doll wiped sweat off her forehead with the back of her neck. And promptly pulled a face. Urgh, she hated when she got all sweaty. It was just gross. 

She didn’t have much time to dwell on the inherent grossness of her bodily functions before she found herself being scooped up by two strong, caring arms she was pleased to admit she was growing quite familiar with. Her expression softened, colour blooming on her cheeks. 

“That—was—awesome!” Yugo laughed, twirling the doll around and eliciting a small shriek to leave her throat. Still grinning down at her like a maniac, he gently placed her feet back on the ground, although his arms never quite freed her waist. “I didn’t know you could do that!”

Amalia stared up at him, dazed, for a few more seconds, before his broad grin turned smaller and expectant and, with a start, she finally realised he was waiting for an answer. 

She lowered her brown gaze in a moment of self-consciousness, brushing her bangs away for the sole purpose of giving her fingers something to do that didn’t involve squeezing his biceps in appreciation. “To be honest, neither did I… At first.” She added, finally looking back at him with a little more confidence. 

“I take it Glip had a hand in helping you achieve your full potential?” Adamaï guessed, closing the distance between them with a mighty flap of his wings, before folding them back into his back. 

Amalia nodded. “Yeah. My vines have always been my go-to defence mechanism, but Glip told me a few weeks back that I should diversify my rooster lest I become too repetitive. Or, worse, predictable.”

“That sounds like Glip, yes. And it is actually good advice.” Yugo noted with a nod of approval. As an experienced warrior himself, there were few lessons that were more important than keeping your enemies on their toes with an unpredictable strategy. 

“Right. So while we’ve been working on expanding my repertoire, he also suggested I try to take the abilities I had already mastered to the next level. So, I’ve been working on moving alongside my vines and learning how to dodge with them.”

“Well, we’ll let our brother know you’re making great progress during the Council’s next meeting.” Adamaï promised, earning himself a giggle and a ‘Thank you’ from the doll. “Although, knowing Glip, he’ll probably tell us he already knows.” He winked down at her knowingly, causing the girl to giggle harder and admit he was probably right. 

While Adamaï and Amalia talked, with the dragon sharing some tips of his own, the mention of their next Council meeting soured Yugo’s good mood suddenly, his previous proud smile fading into a thin line. 

Lately, one of their most pressing matters to deal with during their meetings was finding ways of earning the Twelvians' acceptance. And to this day, it remained the one issue they made the least progress with. 

Ever since the banquet at Bonta, things had been moderately peaceful—except for that elusive spy whose loyalties remained a mystery. It was as if the nations had resolved to leave them alone now that Amalia was by their side and they seemingly had their gods’ blessing, yet they still refused to fully accept them. 

Yugo would be lying if he said he hadn’t been hoping to hear more from Master Joris, or even the Sheran Sharms, the rulers of the Sadida Kingdom, but there had been no further attempt at communication from either. Their silence and lack of activity was beginning to become disheartening, if he was honest with himself. 

While they originally believed it to be better to let the Twelvians come to them lest they risked rattling them further, as of late, the king and his siblings had resolved that maybe direct action on their part would be the best course of action. If the Twelvians didn’t come to them, then they would come to the Twelvians. 

The only problem was that past experiences had taught them that may have an undesired effect. They couldn’t just present themselves in their respective kingdoms and demand their acceptance or even an audience with their leaders. They needed to find a way for their new neighbours to approach them, something that proved having the Eliatropes around would be beneficial to them. 

But what?

“Yugo? Are you okay?” A sweet, melodic voice broke him out of his thoughts.

With a start, he turned to Amalia, his heart squeezing in his chest when he found her staring up at him with a furrowed brow, concern for him apparent in her depthless browns. A quick glance his way proved even Adamaï was looking at him expectantly. 

“Yeah, everything is fine. Don’t worry.”

Judging from the way the confusion in her eyes gave way to annoyance, that wasn’t the answer she was expecting. 

“Yugo…” She said sternly. Then, something he couldn’t quite describe flickered behind her eyes, prompting her to close them as she took a deep breath. When she opened them up again, her expression was much more understanding, encouraging even. 

She took a step closer into his personal bubble and placed a deliciously warm hand against his chest. It’d be a miracle if she somehow missed the way his frenzied heart beat against her palm or how he gulped down nervously at her close proximity. All of a sudden, under her attentive gaze, for the first time since he could remember, his hood felt more oppressive than comforting. He had half the mind not to take it off. 

He pointedly chose to avoid looking Adamaï in the eye. Knowing him, he’d have an insufferable smirk on his face. 

“Yugo.” She repeated, this time gentler. “We promised we’d be more honest with each other from now on, remember?”

For a moment, Yugo contemplated doubling down on his insistence that everything was fine, not wanting Amalia to worry. However, her words and the memory of himself admitting he actually worried more when she wasn’t honest with him caused his throat to close up. 

How could he demand total honesty and transparency from Amalia if he wasn’t willing to do the same for her?

Even if she couldn’t help him with his problem, getting it out of his system certainly couldn’t hurt. 

Finally, he let out a heavy sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. When he looked back at her, a small smile drew itself on his lips. ���Okay, yeah. You’re right. Sorry. Didn’t want to worry you.”

“It’s okay.” She assured him. “I know what it’s like.”

The two of them shared a smile before a not-so-subtle cough coming from his dragon twin reminded the Eliatrope to get on with his explanation. 

“Yeah, right. Well, you see.” He stammered, trying to find the words. “The thing is, the Council has been stuck for a while on how to foster more positive relationships with the Twelvians.”

“I thought the banquet at Bonta had been a success?”

“And it was! But, it’s also been our only success so far…” Yugo admitted sheepishly. He took the hand on his chest in his and led the doll back to sit on the stairs they had been using as bleachers, Adamaï following suit. “We kind of expected things to start looking up after that, but the other rulers haven’t exactly been reaching out to us ever since.”

“Oh.” Amalia said quietly, looking down at her lap in contemplation before her eyes flickered over to the Emerald Twins again. “And what do you have in mind to remedy that?”

“That’s the problem. We don’t really know what to do.” It was Adamaï who answered, his voice deep and monotonous. “Ideally, we could try gathering all leaders to Oma for a meeting similar to the one at Bonta, but even that poses a few logistical issues.”

The doll tilted her head in confusion. “Such as…?”

“Such as the fact that we have no way of contacting the other nations without risking our initiative being taken as an attack. Just as we don’t know what we can offer them, exactly, that will make them more receptive to our presence.” He revealed. He couldn’t help but sympathise with the way Amalia winced, he honestly felt like that too. 

“Okay, so it’s definitely been hard. And the Twelvians haven’t exactly been making this any easier…” She conceded with a wince. “B-but you guys have so much to offer!”

“Thanks, Amalia. But we’re still feeling a little stumped.” Yugo appreciated her efforts to remain positive and cheer them up, but, unfortunately, they didn’t really amount to much. 

The doll’s expression hardened, not in anger, but in conviction. “No, I mean it. It’s true I haven’t been able to see much of the world since I arrived, but from what little I did see, the Eliatropes are much more scientifically advanced than most races. 

“In fact, from what I gathered at Bonta, some races would be much more willing to welcome you if you shared what you know. Think about all of Chibi and Grougal’s inventions! If they agree to it, you could offer to implement them on the World of Twelve, hence improving the lives of countless people! Races like the Feca or the Sufokians, in particular, would be beyond interested in the technological advances you could offer them.”

“You got all this from the banquet at Bonta?” Yugo raised an incredulous eyebrow at her, impressed. 

She shrugged. “You’d be surprised by how much of my interactions with the Feca King and Prince Adale focused on them rambling on and on about their kingdoms’ latest innovations.”

“As promising as that idea sounds,” Adamaï cut in. He hated to be the voice of dissent, but he knew better than to let themselves get their hopes up for nothing. “There’s this one little problem.”

“Another?!” The doll was beginning to really hate that word. 

“Afraid so. You see, as I’m sure you remember from when you helped them create the Magnolias,” the dragon couldn’t help but smirk at the small blush that dusted her features because of his praise, “Chibi and Grougal are having trouble finding suitable replacements for the materials we used back home. Even if we promised to share our technology with the Twelvians, nothing guarantees we will be able to fulfill our end of the deal soon enough so they don’t grow suspicious.”

“Not to mention the sheer danger of revealing just how advanced we are compared to them.” Yugo pointed out, his brows brought together into a despondent frown. “Instead of seeing it as an opportunity to reach a mutually beneficial agreement, they could always come to consider us an even bigger threat.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right.” The doll let out a heavy sigh, her shoulders slumping forward in defeat before her head came to rest on her palms. “And even if you did manage to summon them here, it’s very difficult to reach Oma Island.”

“Exactly. Especially without those recall potions Master Joris gave us.” Adamaï agreed. 

Unbeknownst to them, the three of them had come to adopt similar postures—sitting on top of the same row of steps, their bodies slumped forward as their heads rested on either one or both of their hands, a despondent look on their faces. 

“Which also happens to be very expensive. And seeing as we can’t exactly become part of their economic system without their approval for everything else, it’s not like we can afford to buy them either way.” Yugo reminded them, his voice resigned. 

“We could always try pleading our case during one of their council meetings?” Adamaï suggested, only to flinch under his brother’s unamused look. 

“After last time?” The king asked rhetorically. “No, thank you. I would like to avoid incurring their wrath to the point of being sent over a dozen warriors after my head yet again if possible.”

“It’s a pity there aren’t Zaap Portals all over the World of Twelve…” Amalia muttered wistfully. “That would make transportation so much easier and cheaper.”

Unbeknownst to the doll, while she let out a dejected sigh, Yugo and Adamaï perked up at her words, their eyes equally wide and their mouths hanging open as realisation struck them. How come they never thought of that before?

Before she even had time to register what was going on, Yugo grabbed her by the arms and turned her blinking face to his. He was beaming so widely that, besides making her heart skip a beat, he could have lit up the darkest night. 

“Amalia, you’re a genius!”

“Why, thank you. I know.” She smirked, tucking some hair behind her ear coyly. Her brow then scrunched up in confusion. “Why?”

“You just gave us the perfect solution to our problem!”

“I-I did?!”

“Yeah!” Yugo laughed. He was starting to sound a little deranged, if she was being honest with herself. “You’re right! The World of Twelve would benefit from our Zaaps!”

“But I thought you said you couldn’t risk the Twelvians feeling threatened over how advanced you actually are?” 

“True, but this can be easily explained!” He insisted, his grin never faltering. 

“Oh, great…” The doll muttered, her smile strained. She turned to look at his dragon brother over his shoulder, hoping he would clear things up for her. “Ad…?”

Taking pity on the poor doll’s confused state and wincing internally at his twin’s overly intense excitement, Adamaï placed a hand on Yugo’s shoulder, quietly telling him to ease up. “Easy, Lil’ Bro. You’re scaring her.”

“Oh.” Yugo immediately deflated. He sent an apologetic look at Amalia. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine!” She said a little too quickly, splaying her hands in front of her. “It’s fine, really. I… Uh… I would just appreciate it if you could tell me why Zaap Portals are such a great idea. That’s all.”

“Right.” The Eliatrope nodded. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his own excitement down, before he began to explain. “The thing is, us introducing the Zaaps to the Twelvians doesn’t immediately out us as all that much more technologically advanced as them.”

“Oh?” The doll tilted her head, urging him to continue. 

“Because, that’s the thing—they’re portals! They already know that’s what we Eliatropes specialise in!”

“So, in their eyes, it wouldn’t be far-fetched that we applied our magic for more practical uses.” Adamaï pointed out. 

“Exactly.” Yugo agreed. “After all, isn’t that something incredibly common regardless of our race? You know, applying our natural abilities to make our daily lives easier?” His tone turned downright earnest as he took the doll’s hands in his and looked her straight in the eye. “Didn’t you say crafting magical dolls is a Sadida thing and not just something your family can do? This is the same! There’s no reason for them to suspect us for this.”

For a moment, Amalia just looked down at their clasped hands, the stitches in her head tightening. When they put it like that, it made perfect sense. It was clear the World of Twelve was lacking in safe and affordable means of transportation, the Zaaps would really be the perfect solution. He was also right to point out the natives of this world were constantly putting their natural abilities to more mundane uses. Prince Adale spent a good chunk of their conversation talking about how the Sufokians’ stasis manipulation allowed them to improve almost all aspects of their daily life—machinery, technology, architecture…

The fact that a race known specifically for being able to bend space to their will was capable of creating effective means of transportation should come as no surprise to anyone. 

“There’s also the fact that your Zaaps still have a few limitations…” She mumbled, mostly to herself, after a few minutes, remembering a previous conversation she had with Yugo. She looked up at the king with questioning, but hopeful, eyes. “Wouldn’t that also make things more believable?”

Her cheeks grew warm when he smiled down at her fondly, his brown gaze soft as he regarded her with so much affection it made her heart squeeze in her chest. 

“Absolutely.” He told her, his voice warm. “See, Amalia? We just found the perfect solution, and it was all thanks to you.” Her breath caught in her throat at his tenderness. “What would I ever do without you?”

His words sent a jolt down her spine. She wanted to tell him it was her who was thankful for having him in her life. He had no idea how much. She wanted to tell him how excited she felt to spend time with him, how safe she felt in his arms, how much she appreciated everything he did for her. She wanted to tell him just how happy he made her. 

Whatever this feeling was whenever she was around Yugo, it only grew stronger by the day, and he didn’t even know it. 

“I…” But before she had the chance to even try to find the words that were clamouring to be set free, a flash of light from the corner of her eye interrupted her. 

A gasp left her throat as she, Yugo, and Adamaï turned around to identify the interruption. The doll could only blink in confusion at the sight of the familiar purple cloak covering the entirety of the person’s form except for their eyes. 

An Eliatrope guard. 

“What is the meaning of this, soldier?” Yugo demanded, his voice turning authoritative as it only really did in times of crisis. Immediately, his head spun with possibilities. Were they under attack? Had the spy returned? Were they in danger? What about Amalia?

“Apologies for the interruption, my King.” The guard replied, bending down on one knee with his head bowed as a sign of respect. “But I come bearing urgent news.”

Adamaï frowned. “What is it?” 

The guard’s expression was resolute even behind his mask. 

“Bonta’s ambassador, Master Joris, has returned and requests an audience with the Council. He awaits in the throne room.”

The three of them exchanged shocked glances. Talk about timing…

.......................................................................................................................

Not wanting to keep their unexpected guest waiting, especially when they had actually been hoping to hear more from him since the last time they saw each other, with a hasty apology to Amalia, Yugo teleported the three of them into the throne room. 

Since the portal opened up right above the throne, Yugo let himself plop down on it. He waited with open arms for Amalia to come falling down as well, catching her with ease when she finally made it to the other side safely, before, with a smile that she returned, gently depositing her on the ground next to him. Adamaï, for his part, glided out of the portal and came to rest on the other side of him, tucking his wings away as soon as he made contact with the ground. 

By the time they arrived, Master Joris was standing in the middle of the spacious room, just like the first time they met, and the rest of the Council was already there, each of them waiting for their king in their respective positions. 

They all sent meaningful glances their brother’s way. Now that they were finally there, the meeting could begin. 

“Master Joris, it has been a while.” Yugo started out politely, yet his voice still carried authority. “I trust everything is well?”

“Greetings, King Yugo. Esteemed members of the Eliatrope Council.” The little man nodded his head in acknowledgment, his eyes flickering to the king’s side. “Lady Amalia.”

She returned his greeting. “Master Joris.” 

Beyond that, Amalia resolved to remain silent yet pay attention in case her input was needed. After all, even if the Bontarian had requested her presence as well, she was still just a guest, not a full-fledged member of the Council of Six. The last thing she wanted was to overstep her boundaries, no matter how much trust Yugo and his siblings placed on her. 

However, she couldn’t keep her eyes from wandering curiously. Even if the throne room wasn’t exactly new to her, she really hadn’t had much reason to enter since her arrival, as well as Master Joris’. Even as her eyes lit up in appraisal at the turquoise hue of the chamber, and she sent a knowing look the Ebony Twins’ way in response to the beauty of its architecture, what never failed to enrapture her was the throne. 

It wasn’t a mere seat. Not even a symbol of Yugo’s position and power. But a veritable work of art—a sculpture with practical purposes. Raised majestically behind Yugo were the pair of skillfully sculpted dragon wings that, not unlike their king, oversaw the space. 

Not for the first time, the doll didn’t miss the mysterious crevices that adorned the piece. Six in total, they were oval-shaped, each of them strategically located all over the throne wings. However, this time Amalia couldn’t help but squint at them, the stitches in her head tightening as she racked her brain, trying to understand why they were suddenly so familiar. 

And then, it hit her. 

They were the exact same shape and size as the Dofus Mina and Phaeris had wielded during the Sacred Dance Day ceremony!

“So that’s why I saw them carrying that chest out of the room that day,” she thought to herself, finally understanding. “They actually keep the Dofus hidden here.” 

Then again, why did they have Dofus at all? As far as she was concerned, the Eliatropes and their dragon siblings had nothing to do with Osamodas and his Primordial Dragons. So why did they possess them in the first place? And six in total? Judging from what little she did know about the topic, it was extremely weird to find more than one Dofus, let alone be entrusted by more than one dragon to become its guardian. And most Dofus, while powerful in their own right, didn’t hold a candle to the Primordial ones. Then why and how…?

She was startled out of her thoughts by the realisation that the conversation was still going on around her, and she had barely paid any attention despite her earlier resolve. Shaking her head and stowing those questions for later, the doll returned her full attention to the conversation at hand.

While Amalia had been pondering, unbeknownst to the other occupants of the room, the Bontarian went on, “My apologies for intruding upon your territory announced yet again, Your Majesty. Worry not, everything is well.”

“Then what is the meaning behind your visit, Little One?” Efrim questioned, his lips contorted into a snarl. 

As much as his people needed the natives’ approval, he couldn’t afford to lower his guard, especially not around someone who effortlessly managed to incapacitate their guards not that long ago. For all they knew, his mistresses could turn against them in the blink of an eye. 

“Efrim!” Nora hissed through gritted teeth, her pink eyes narrowing into a glare at her twin. Her features softened and became apologetic as she turned her focus back to their visitor. “I apologise on behalf of our brother, Master Joris. He is a firm proponent of being cautious.”

But the little man simply shook his head. “No apologies needed, Lady Nora. I understand Master Efrim’s concerns. That is why I came here, to assuage them.”

“And we thank you for your visit.” Qilby spoke up, adjusting his glasses. “Although, I think my siblings will be in agreement with me that we need a more practical method to know of your arrival before the fact. Wouldn’t you agree?”

The way he smirked down at him shot shivers down the Bontarian’s spine, but he made sure to hide his discomfort around the enigmatic Eliatrope. Joris made it a point to keep a close eye on Qilby during the banquet at Bonta, yet he was forced to admit he failed to really understand what made him tick. He couldn’t explain it. The bespectacled Eliatrope seemed perfectly cordial and cultured at first glance, but there was something about him that was quite… unsettling.

He just couldn’t put his finger on what it was. 

“I will suggest we form a better line of communication to the Queens of Bonta, Master Qilby.” He said curtly, his face not betraying a single emotion. “I regret to inform you, however, that I wasn’t sent here solely on their behalf.”

Joris’ careful scrutiny of the eldest Eliatrope was interrupted by Yugo’s warm yet commanding voice, his posture upon his throne exuding refinement and, dare he say, cautious excitement?

Huh, perhaps his visit wouldn’t be as unwanted as they had feared. 

“Then, pray tell,” the king began, polite as always. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?”

His dragon twin was much more blunt. “And if you’re not here just because Queens Astra and Selene sent you, who did you come here for?”

Joris raised an imperceptible eyebrow underneath his hood. Master Adamaï was as perceptive as always, it seemed. It was a good thing he wasn’t trying to hide anything. He honestly feared it would take the formidable Council of Six no time to see right through him even in spite of his many years in this line of work. 

“I see nothing gets past you, Master Adamaï.”

“You’re the one who implied there’s a third party involved, Master Joris.” He pointed out, impassive. “I am simply giving you a chance to come clean.”

The Emerald dragon could sense his twin’s warning glance stare a hole in the side of his head, cautioning to weigh his words for this was the chance they had been waiting for to really mark a difference in the World of Twelve. Accusing the Bontarian and earning his mistrust would only do more harm than good. 

Adamaï had to resist the urge to scoff. Out of the two of them, he wasn’t the impulsive, emotion-driven twin. Thank you very much. He was perfectly capable of treating the situation with the tact it required. 

Luckily for the dragon, this time Joris had no intention of playing coy and withholding information from them. 

“No need for that, Master Adamaï. I assure you, I fully intended to make my intentions clear from the very beginning.”

“Well, then, let us hear what you have to say.” Mina took a step forwards, directing attention to herself. She raised a hand in the Bontarian’s direction. “Master Joris, you have our full, undivided attention. As our King said, to what do we owe your visit?”

Although he did take a minute to send a grateful nod her way, his response was measured, yet straightforward. “I come on behalf of King Oakheart Sheran Sharm and Crown Prince Armand Sheran Sharm, from the Sadida Kingdom.”

That immediately got Amalia’s attention, who took a subconscious step closer towards the emissary, eager to hear what her father’s people wanted from the Eliatropes. And she wasn’t the only one who perked up at the mention of those names. Every single member of the Council of Six stood on alert at the news, exchanging uneasy glances and telepathic conversations as they wondered what this could be about. 

Yugo’s interest in particular was second only to Amalia’s, his body leaning forward until he was quite literally on the edge of the throne. He might be a near immortal demigod, but at this rate the anticipation would kill him!

“Well? And what do the Sheran Sharm want from us?” He urged. 

Every pair of eyes present in the room widened as they followed Master Joris’ own unsubtle line of sight—straight to a startled Amalia. 

Feeling all eyes on her, the Divine Doll raised a trembling hand and pointed at her chest. “M-me? They want me?”

Phaeris immediately got on the defensive, smoke coming out of his nostrils. “Phaeris hopes they remember Lady Amalia was specifically entrusted to our people by the twelve gods themselves. They have no right demanding we hand her over now like some sort of possession!” He snapped, a loud growl emanating from his throat.

Yugo was about to agree just as fiercely, his eyes beginning to turn into a vibrant shade of blue, when Master Joris scrambled to explain, shaking his head profusely with his gloved palms up in surrender. 

“Please, none of that, Your Excellencies! Quite the opposite, in fact!” When he sensed the hostile atmosphere returning to neutrality, the Council offering him one chance to explain himself, he went on. “King Sheran Sharm sees nothing wrong with Lady Amalia staying with you, Your Majesty, as I am sure you will remember from when you met him firsthand in Bonta.” 

It was true. Although they didn’t get to interact much, Yugo especially remembered how Sadida’s followers were amongst the most welcoming Twelvians back at the banquet, especially their king. A man as kind and wise as he was large. The Eliatrope distinctly remembered thinking King Oakheart was probably centuries younger than him, yet he had the feeling he could still learn a thing or two himself. 

Prince Armand, his son and heir, on the other hand, was considerably rough around the edges, although he too seemed to just be looking out for his kingdom, and he didn’t hesitate to defer to his father’s authority. 

Hearing from them after so long, especially given their unique connection to Amalia, tied a knot at the pit of his stomach. From anticipation or dread, he wasn’t sure. 

“That is true.” He said at last, noticing he accidentally allowed for his silence to stretch on too long. “Then, what does such an esteemed king require from us?” His eyes briefly flickered over to Amalia, but it was enough for the ambassador to understand the hidden meaning of his words. 

He allowed a small smile to grace his features to show he bore them no ill will. “The Sheran Sharms cordially invite you to their kingdom for a celebration in Lady Amalia’s honour. As I am sure you will understand, her existence is of great importance to them, and they wish for their people to meet their god’s youngest child.” He turned to the doll as he said this, his smile becoming more genuine under her astonished, yet moved, brown eyes. “Naturally, even though Her Grace will be the guest of honour, they also expect you, King Yugo, to go, alongside an entourage of your choosing.”

For a moment, words failed the king. Could it be? Could they really get so lucky so as to receive such a perfect opportunity to forge a potential alliance with a nation as highly regarded as the Sadida just as they’d found the perfect way to integrate themselves into their society?

Truth be told, Yugo didn’t actually know which position the Sadida Kingdom held within the World of Twelve. However, judging from what Amalia told them about her father’s people, their ample resources by virtue of being connected to nature itself, and everything they’d already witnessed the Sadida Doll was capable of, it stood to reason that they were truly powerful allies to have. 

Forgoing all protocol for a moment, he shot Amalia a delighted smile that she returned with an adorable, fanged grin of her own. One that soon softened as the love and appreciation he felt for her threatened to overwhelm his poor heart. This really was all thanks to her. 

Adamaï discreetly clearing his throat saved him from accidentally getting lost in her bark-like eyes and his lovesick daydreams. 

Straightening himself up, the Eliatrope King cleared his own throat behind a closed fist, willing the blush heating up his cheeks to stand down. “Yes, um, thank you, Master Joris. Please, do express our gratitude to King Sheran Sharm.”

“Should I also tell him you accept his invitation?”

It was Chibi who cut in, his voice and stance almost uncharacteristically professional as he tackled the issue at hand. “With all due respect, if it’s not much trouble, I think I speak for the Council of Six when I say it might be better if you return in a week’s time, Master Joris. As I am sure you will understand, we have much to deliberate before we can give you a definite answer.”

“Of course, I understand.” He nodded. Then, he turned back to Yugo. “I shall let the Sheran Sharms know of your decision, King Yugo. As Master Chibi suggested, I will return in seven days to hear your final decision on the matter.”

“Thank you for understanding, Master Joris.” 

“No, thank you, Your Majesty.” 

And with that, he fished a recall potion out of his cloak pocket, gulped the whole bottle in one go, and, in a flash of light, the little man was gone. 

.....................................................................................................................

Needless to say, the moment Master Joris left them alone, the members of the Council found themselves with much to deliberate on. 

After a hasty explanation and goodbye to Amalia, who returned to her chambers to rest as soon as the initial bewilderment wore out, Yugo and his siblings wasted no time making their way over to the Council Room. No sooner was everyone at their prospective seats, the impromptu meeting began. 

“This is wonderful news!” Mina cheered, her hands clasped before her face as her dark eyes darted across her siblings, seeking their shared excitement. “After so long, we have finally been granted another chance to forge a strong alliance with a Twelvian nation. Oh, we absolutely must accept their invitation.”

Yugo couldn’t help but smile. It wasn’t every day their level-headed, diplomatic, and composed sister showed her emotions so openly. He always knew she and Phaeris were the most vocal in their support of a peaceful coexistence between their people and the natives of this world, but for her to react like that… It was only yet another testament of how much this invitation could mean for them.

“Not so fast, Mina dear.” Qilby interjected, raising a finger. “Just because the Sheran Sharms have made the first move, that doesn’t mean they’ve shown us all their cards yet.”

“‘Shown us all their cards’?” Nora parroted with a brow arched, incredulous. She huffed. “You sound like an Ecaflip.”

Qilby just shrugged. “It is a rather fitting metaphor.”

Their incoming bickering session was cut short by Glip slamming his staff hard against the floor to gain their attention.

“I concur with Qilby. This could very well be a trap.”

Glip couldn’t help but flinch in shame under the betrayed look their king shot him, but he had to stand by what he said. While he hoped their race could live peacefully in this world and he had long accepted Amalia into their lives, that didn’t mean he had to trust her people. For all they knew, this was all part of a carefully calculated plot. 

“What?!” Chibi sputtered, with Grougaloragran nodding by his side, showing his support of his twin. “Are you even hearing yourselves? Brothers, Sisters, we have just received an invitation from a native nation. We are one step closer to being able to call this world our new home at last! This alone calls for a celebration, yet you choose to focus your efforts into mistrusting our potential hosts instead?”

“Not to mention, the fact that said hosts happen to be Amalia’s people does not allow for us to freely decline either way.” Grougaloragran pointed out. 

“I was under the impression that this was an invitation, not a threat?” Efrim wondered aloud. Despite his sarcastic tone, for once, he was being genuine. 

Opportunity or not, they could always decline to go! Eliatrope knew the Twelvians had been declining most, if not all, of their attempts at forging political and diplomatic ties countless times since they arrived… Surely, they couldn’t expect them to just take everything they threw at them and roll over like some well-trained Bow Wow. 

“It is an invitation, but it would also be extremely disrespectful of us to refuse them.” Baltazar reasoned. Seeing his youngest brother’s disbelieving sapphire orbs staring back at him, he let out a patient sigh. “Lady Amalia is their patron god’s daughter. Her mere existence is of great importance to them. Refusing them the chance to meet such an important cultural figure would essentially be like spitting on their beliefs.”

“Think of it this way,” Shinonomé chimed in, her golden eyes picking up on Efrim’s lack of conviction. “If one of us were being housed by the Sadida, our people would also like to see us, therefore, how would we take it if they were to refuse our pleas?”

“As a deep insult to our race; a direct attack against us and our goddess.” Efrim heaved a heavy sigh, understanding their point despite himself. 

The dragoness smirked. “Precisely.”

“We cannot forget Amalia’s connection to the Sadida is also deeply beneficial to us.” Adamaï pointed out, finally addressing the non-Eliatrope dragon in the room. “Her connection to us should help us establish political ties with the Sadida, which at the same time could very well be the first step into being accepted by the rest of the nations.”

“But what if it is not?” Phaeris ventured, surprising everyone in the room, even his twin sister. It was safe to say they had all been expecting the Ochre Twins to be of the same mind on this issue, as they were wont to do. 

In a way, even if it was in his nature, it was extremely jarring to see him remain rooted to realism and reasonable doubt when Mina was so enthused by the idea. Her stricken face was proof enough that not even she had seen it coming. 

However, as much as Yugo hated to admit it, a knot forming in the pit of his stomach at the mere implication, Phaeris’ reaction wasn’t completely out of the blue. Unlike how he’d usually conduct himself, when Master Joris first brought the topic up, he didn’t wait until the Bontarian was finished saying his piece. He got straight to the point and demanded to know if King Oakheart and Prince Armand planned to take Amalia back and away from them. 

A point he didn’t hesitate to reiterate. 

“What if the Sheran Sharms are luring us into a fake sense of security and all they want is to whisk our ticket to acceptance away?” He questioned aloud. “What if this is all a trap to snatch Lady Amalia from us while they have the home field advantage? Phaeris can’t help but fear they might use the chance to distort everything by making it look like we attacked their kingdom and they were simply defending themselves, giving the other rulers yet another reason to distrust us—!”

His anguished spiels were cut short by his sister’s comforting hand on his claw. Her dark eyes big and tender as she pleaded for her brother to calm down and come back to her. There was no need to anguish over the ‘what ifs’ that had yet to pass. It was imperative they focused on the present. 

The cyan dragon sat back down, his breathing laboured. “Phaeris apologises. He let his worries get the best of him.”

“No need.” Efrim dismissed it with a wave of his claw, leaning back in his chair with his tail thumping rhythmically against the floor. “All you did was speak the truth. To quote Qilby and his Ecafliphile ways, it is too high a gamble to just trust these people blindly.”

“That could not be any more different from what I said.” Qilby grumbled, his nose scrunched up in distaste. Given his astounding memory, he did not appreciate it when people twisted his words and presented them as fact. It was an insult to his divine gift. His scowl deepened. “And I am not an Ecafliphile!”

But his complaints went ignored. 

“It is not too high a gamble because there is no gamble at all.” Mina countered resolutely, her eyes narrowed on her little brother in annoyance. 

“How can you be so sure?” Nora asked. She was still a little miffed at her twin for his flippant attitude towards the entire meeting, but she didn’t say anything because she was hoping to smooth things out with him soon enough. However, that didn’t stop her from secretly enlisting their siblings' help to make him see reason. 

At that, the cyan-clad Eliatrope smirked. “Because if we were truly in danger, Chibi would have had a vision of it.”

In an instant, all eyes were on the prophet, who couldn’t help but flinch under such intense scrutiny. “Truth be told, it depends…” He sputtered, fidgeting with his cloak. Sometimes he really hated his divine gift and the difficult positions it put him in. “It’s not an exact science nor do I get a significant tingle whenever danger is lurking around the corner, but…” He shrugged, humming. “Yes, I suppose if something important truly were to happen at the Sadida Kingdom, I would have had a vision about it, which I didn’t.”

As their siblings began to murmur amongst themselves, discussing the potential dangers and benefits behind paying the Sadida Kingdom a visit, Yugo exchanged a meaningful glance with Adamaï. No words were needed, not even telepathic. That very same day they had stumbled upon a possible solution to their problems and they weren’t going to let it get away. Nor were they going to keep it from the rest of the Council. 

Yugo’s voice, composed yet authoritarian, cut through the rest of the Council’s conversation like a knife, demanding respect and that they focused their attention back to him from where he was, overseeing it all.

“If I may be so bold, I believe this is the perfect chance to reveal we have finally reached a possible solution to our problem with the Twelvians.”

“Do you have any idea how little that narrows it down?” Glip snarked, earning himself a stern nudge from Baltazar.

But Yugo just chuckled in good humour. “Of course. You’re right, I should have been more precise.” What he said next was no laughing matter. “Ad and I think we have finally found the perfect way to prove our worth to the natives and earn ourselves a place in their world.”

“What do you have in mind?” Shinonomé gasped, sharing a concerned yet discreet look with her twin. 

Yugo looked as assured as ever as he leaned forward in his seat, resting his elbows on the table as he clasped his hands. “We’ll play to our strengths.”

“That’s not really an answer…” Glip pointed out again, frowning.

“All in due time.” Adamaï pacified him. “What matters now is deciding whether to accept the Sheran Sharms’ invitation or not.” He raised a claw up in the air, which was immediately followed by Yugo raising his own arm. “Those in agreement to accept, raise your hands.”

Besides the Emerald Twins, Mina, Chibi, and Grougaloragran also raised their hands, followed by Baltazar and, after a dubious look at her twin, Nora. Even though it seemed the choice had already been made, the white-and-blue dragon urged those in disagreement to vote. As expected, Efrim, Glip, Phaeris, and Qilby and Shinonomé raised their hands against going to the Sadida Kingdom. However, with seven of them for and the remaining five against it, it was clear what their next course of action would be. 

“It’s settled then! In a week’s time, we will inform Master Joris that the Sadida should expect us.” Announced Yugo, clasping his hands with an air of finality. 

Slouched in defeat in his seat, with his wings covering his body like a cloak, a brooding Phaeris let out a deep sigh. 

“Phaeris just hopes we will not come to regret this.” He muttered in a voice so low, one would need to have an Ouginak’s sense of hearing to pick up on what he said. Or, at least, know him very well. 

His sister squeezing his claw in reassurance brought the dragon back to reality. He turned to look at Mina questioningly, an eyebrow raised in curiosity. In turn, her eyes were full of empathy and comfort.

“I am sure there is nothing to worry about.” She told him softly, patting his claw affectionately. Her expression dimmed just the tiniest bit as she considered the most unfortunate possibilities. But she shook those thoughts away right after, the determined flicker he knew so well back in her alabaster eyes. “Phaeris, I understand your concerns. Better than anyone.”

“Phaeris has never doubted Mina’s ability to understand him—.” But she just interrupted him with a raised palm. 

“I know. That’s not the point. The point is, Sadida himself entrusted Lady Amalia to us; that was his divine will. I highly doubt the Sadida will be impious enough to go against their god’s decision and essentially kidnap his daughter.

“Likewise, Lady Amalia has been living by our side for months, and it is clear to see she has grown quite fond of us—some more than others…” She sang knowingly, pointing subtly towards their king. Even if they didn’t share a psychic bond, Phaeris would have understood the double meaning behind her words. “It is extremely unlikely she would simply go along with an attempt at separating her from us. You can rest assured, Brother. Everything will be fine.”

The cyan dragon exhaled slowly through his nose, but he sent his sister a small smile nonetheless. “May Eliatrope hear you, Sister.”

Their heads snapped back to the sound of their king’s voice reverberating around the room. At some point, he stood up from his seat and was currently sweeping over his siblings with his eyes, his hands on his hips during his appraisal. 

“Very well, in that case, all that remains is choosing who will accompany Amalia to the Sadida Kingdom.” He brought a hand to his chest to point at himself. “As King of the Eliatropes and the one Amalia’s closest to, naturally, I will be going.”

“Naturally…” Nora rolled her eyes good-naturedly, an amused smirk on her face. She let out a yelp and almost fell off her chair when her big brother entered one hand through one of his portals with the sole purpose of flicking her on the forehead from the other end. 

“Jerk…” She grumbled, glaring daggers at Yugo. 

But her brother just went on as if nothing had happened. “Anybody else wishes to join us?”

Adamaï let out an exaggerated, long-suffering sigh. “Well, if you’re going, then I suppose I’m coming with you.” He smirked, an excited glint in his eyes. “Somebody has to watch over you to make sure you don’t mess up, right?”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Yugo deadpanned, but he was smiling. 

Despite his previous objections, Qilby raised a finger. Deep down, Yugo didn’t even know why he was surprised. The eldest Eliatrope always found flaws in everything, yet he was also very quick to invite himself to any and all kinds of events that would allow him to explore and entertain his mind for a while. 

“If it’s not much trouble,” he started purposefully, his hazel eyes narrowing behind his glasses at the way the king was looking at him. “I would very much like to go. This is the perfect chance to explore Sadida culture up close. As accommodating as Lady Amalia is, nothing can compare to really immersing yourself in a culture to truly understand it. That is also why getting to meet the Sheran Sharms in Bonta wasn’t enough, either.”

“Very well, Qilby. Thanks for your help.” Yugo said, trying very hard to suppress an exasperated sigh. At the same time, Adamaï addressed the eldest dragoness. “What about you, Shinonomé? Would you like to come as well?”

But the ruby-scaled woman just shook her head politely. “As much as I would love to learn more about Sadida’s worshippers, I’m afraid I must decline. Given Qilby’s inquisitive nature, somebody must remain behind and look after the clinic in case medical attention is needed while you’re away.”

“Of course. Thank you, Shinonomé. Hopefully, you will be able to accompany us soon.”

“Yes, soon.”

The king directed his focus to the Ebony Twins. They were raising their hands, clearly volunteering themselves, but, much to his chagrin, Yugo had no choice but to shoot them down. “Chibi, Grougal? I’m sorry, but we’re going to need you to stay behind.”

“What?! Why?” Chibi sputtered, shocked. 

“Grougaloragran and Chibi should get to decide whether they go to the Sadida Kingdom or not.” The black dragon added, more than a little petulantly, as he crossed his arms and huffed out a puff of smoke from his nostrils. 

“I know, and I am sorry for removing your autonomy on the matter. But we need you here.”

“Why?” Chibi raised an eyebrow, sceptical. 

“Because we need you to help us test and develop Amalia’s idea for earning the Twelvians’ acceptance.” Adamaï answered. “If all goes well, we could pitch our plan to King Oakheart and get his help in organising a meeting with the other royals. But we need you to tell us if it would be feasible first.”

The Ebony Twins took a moment to consider his words. After a beat, they exchanged purposeful nods and gave their consent to staying behind and working on verifying the applicability of Lady Amalia’s idea. 

Yugo let out a relieved sigh at their begrudging consent. He really owed them one for their sacrifice. 

“Very well, who’s next?”

Not surprisingly, Baltazar, Glip, and Mina chose to remain behind, wisely pointing out that with possibly half of the Council away, the other half should stay to oversee state affairs. Nobody could find fault in their reasoning, so they simply thanked them for their dedication and for covering for their parting siblings. 

However, what nobody was counting on was Phaeris volunteering himself after so adamantly refusing to go in the first place. 

“Phaeris, are you sure?” Adamaï asked, unsure himself. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he awaited for an answer. “We understand if you would rather not come…”

“Phaeris would feel more uneasy if he didn’t accompany his siblings, Adamaï.” He answered gravely, his bright eyes piercing his brother’s with their conviction. “After all, two dragons are better than one, and you will need all the help you can get.”

“Thank you, Phaeris.” The king nodded gratefully, smiling kindly at the cyan dragon in an attempt at imbuing him with the confidence he felt. “But you don’t have to worry. As Mina said, I’m sure everything will be fine.”

“Won’t hurt to be prepared…” Efrim muttered through his teeth. He shot a glare at his twin sister when she nudged his side in disapproval. 

Nora herself jolted in her seat when her older brother addressed her. 

“What about you, Nora? Would you be interested in joining us?”

A huge grin split her face in two. “Bold of you to assume I wouldn’t be planning on joining you from the very beginning.” She huffed a chuckle through her nose. “Eliatrope knows somebody has got to keep an eye on you boys. I could never risk Amalia suffering from testosterone poisoning.”

While his brother shot her scathing looks, unamused by her comment, Shinonomé, never to turn down an opportunity to tease her little sister, couldn't help but poke fun at her. 

“Do tell, Nora. Your willingness to go to the Sadida Kingdom wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that this is the perfect chance to see how Sadida women look. Now would it?”

Nora had the decency to grimace, blushing. All around her, the members of the Council snickered. It wasn’t every day the youngest Eliatrope got this flustered. “It’s not my fault the king’s entourage was formed exclusively by men…” She grumbled, pouting. 

Before Yugo had the chance to make a joke of his own, his laughter was cut short by the most unexpected sight. Even more so than Phaeris volunteering himself. Because, leaning back against his seat beside his wide-eyed twin with an almost bored expression on his face, Efrim was raising his claw. 

The tense silence that soon fell over the Council Room made it clear that the rest of its occupants had taken notice too. 

“Is there anything you would like to share, Efrim?” He had to make sure. 

The way his sapphire eyes blinked seemed almost offended. “Uh, yes. I believe this is the part where I sign up to go to the Sadida Kingdom?” He offered sarcastically. He then made a show of shaking his arm. “I was under the impression that it was done by raising your hand?”

While the Eliatrope King’s jaw dropped and his eyes widened like saucers, actions that his own dragon twin wasted no time mimicking, an astonished Chibi managed to perfectly encapsulate what Yugo and Adamaï couldn’t express due to their gawking. 

“You want to go to the Sadida Kingdom?!” He all but screeched in disbelief. “You are aware there are Twelvians there, right?” Even with his teasing tone, it was plain to see the prophet was only half-joking. And the utter surprise in his voice didn’t help matters either. 

His concerns were met with a scowl. “Thanks for the heads-up.” The periwinkle dragon grumbled, annoyed. 

Baltazar, well aware of his younger brother’s animosity towards Amalia, furrowed his brow and exchanged a nervous glance with Glip. One thing was Efrim being rude and dismissive of the Sadida Doll on Oma Island, and even that bordered on inexcusable, but to risk his disdain for her show in the Sadida Kingdom, where she was revered as their god’s daughter and a symbol of prosperity by his worshippers…

Things could go downhill in the blink of an eye. They could not risk letting the opportunity they had been granted go to waste by being reckless. 

“Efrim, are you sure?” The beige dragon started as diplomatically as possible, his raspy voice gentle and unaccusing. “We all know of the ups and downs of your relationship with Lady Amalia.” His blue eyes narrowed in intrigue when Nora flinched at his brother’s side, her brows pinched together in worry, but the young dragon in question didn’t seem too bothered so he let it slide. For now. “But we mustn’t forget we will be the ones in an unfamiliar land. A territory where she is worshipped like a goddess. Baltazar is sure Efrim does not wish to jeopardise this opportunity…”

“Please, Baltazar, spare me the sermon.” The young dragon cut him off, his voice harsh. 

He hated feeling like this. Like he was some unstable brute who knew nothing of tact and finesse and needed to be watched over in case he messed up. He hated having his siblings’ unsure eyes on him, silently wondering if they weren’t about to make some grave mistake. And he especially hated feeling Nora pulling further and further away from him, the distance between them growing bigger by the day. The trepidation he felt at the mere idea of his own twin sister turning her back on him licked away at his heart like frozen fire, making his insides churn in apprehension. 

And to think this was all because of that doll…

But he couldn’t give his siblings further reasons to deny his request. He had to remind them that he could be trusted. Because if you couldn’t trust your own family, who else could you trust?

“I assure you, I have no intention of doing anything to jeopardise our people’s chances of being accepted into this world.” The blue of his eyes was downright icy when they settled on Yugo. “I trust you are not doubting my loyalty and devotion to our nation?”

The king’s brown eyes hooded over in concern, the question hurting him more than he cared to admit. Of course he trusted his little brother! He was… He was his little brother. They had all been through too much together not to; but the truth of the matter was that Efrim had changed after the war. He was all that much confrontational and quick to expect the worst of anyone who wasn’t an Eliatrope. His treatment of Amalia was a prime example of that.

Likewise, said treatment had the unfortunate side effect of sending Amalia on edge whenever the youngest dragon was near her. Sadida might not possess their wakfu vision, but you would have to be blind not to see the way the Divine Doll tensed up in Efrim’s presence. If she showed signs of discomfort towards him in the presence of her father’s people… There were a lot of things on the line and a lot of things that could go wrong. 

And yet…

“Very well, Efrim.” He said at last, drawing every pair of wide eyes towards him. Even Efrim seemed to be taken aback by his decision. “You are right. You would never do anything to harm our people. You may come if you so wish.” Just then, his tone turned serious and stern, his otherwise warm brown eyes, cold and unforgiving as he took on a stance befitting of his position as monarch. “However, I do ask that you are in your best behaviour around Amalia and her people. Can I trust you will not make a mockery of the trust I have decided to place on you?”

For a moment, Efrim wanted to protest the unfair treatment he was under. He was sure Yugo would never ask his precious flower to behave in his presence. It took every ounce of self-restraint he possessed not to scoff spitefully; instead, he let out a heavy sigh, understanding despite himself that their people did indeed need this alliance, and he couldn’t risk endangering it. 

His own cobalt eyes pierced Yugo’s brown ones. “You can count on me, my King.”

With a final nod from their leader, the meeting was adjourned. In a week’s time, they would inform Master Joris, and subsequently the Sheran Sharms and their subjects, of their decision. 

As the Council members filed out of the room, with Efrim slithering out of the door, those who would accompany Amalia to the Sadida Kingdom discreetly agreed to keep an eye on their brother, just in case. 

.......................................................................................................................

Soon after the meeting let out, Yugo made a beeline for Amalia’s room, eager to tell her the good news. The way her eyes sparkled in delight and a dazzling grin stretched over her lips sent his poor heart into a frenzy, his mind scrambling to imprint the sight onto his brain. And even that couldn’t compete with the feeling of the doll’s petite yet stunning form moulding perfectly against his when she threw herself at him in elation. There was something deeply cathartic in holding Amalia in his arms. 

Despite his accelerated heartbeat, her warmth meshing into his, the sweet scent of her intoxicating his senses, and her silky, emerald strands tickling his nose all allowed him to enter a most blissful state. A state where everything was right in the world and he could relax. Amalia’s proximity was like a balm, soothing his wounds.

His heart ached when he was forced to let go and tend to his duties for the day. 

As promised, within the week Master Joris presented himself back inside the throne room. In spite of his stoic demeanour, there were enough small, almost imperceptible changes—like the way his face would twitch, almost as if fighting back a smile—that betrayed his true feelings. He was just as relieved that the Council had accepted the invitation as they were of receiving it. 

A pleased smile drew itself onto Yugo and Adamaï’s faces at his reaction. Turns out, Bonta’s beloved hero wasn’t made out of stone, after all. 

Right as the Bontarian assured them he would share the news with the Sheran Sharms, before taking his leave he made it a point to let them know that, despite his station, King Oakheart wasn’t an avid follower of frivolities or a strict adherence to protocol. Therefore, while they were free to do as they pleased, they were in no obligation to go out of their way and sport their most extravagant garments for the occasion. The king just hoped for a pleasant evening where everyone would be comfortable in each other’s presence. 

Besides, most Sadida had never seen an Eliatrope in their life. They wouldn’t be able to tell their formal clothing from their informal garments anyway. 

And so, after much deliberating and pouting from a disappointed Nora, it was agreed that they would not commission new clothing for the occasion. While their little sister hadn’t taken the news well, she eventually let the matter go when Mina pointed out the true guest of honour would be Amalia. If anyone deserved to shine amongst the Sadida, that was his eleventh Divine Doll. 

When the king informed her of their decision, however, much to his surprise, the doll had politely declined their offer to call forth Mr. Needlesworth to start working on a new outfit for her. When asked about it, all she said was:

“Not that I doubt Mr. Needlesworth’s expert hands, but I have something else in mind.”

It wouldn’t be until the actual day of their trip to the Sadida Kingdom that Yugo would understand what she meant by that. 

It was exactly a week after they informed Master Joris of their decision. In the following days, once the Sadida royal family had received the news of their upcoming visit, following Qilby’s pointed suggestion, the Bontarian handed them the method through which Twelvians communicated with each other—a Tofu bird capable of flying great distances and transmitting a spoken message. 

Even Chibi and Grougal had been impressed by its simple ingenuity. Even so, they maintained the Magnolias were a much better alternative, as Tofu messaging only allowed for one-on-one conversations and it still took the poor bird too long to relay the message. 

Nevertheless, it was thanks to that piece of Twelvian innovation that they settled on a date for their visit and they let the small man know which members of the Council of Six would accompany Amalia that day. With the arrival of a set of recall potions shortly after, they were all ready to go. 

When the day finally came, the members of the Council were gathered in front of the large balcony overseeing their people. Right before leaving, much like last time, they would give a speech in commemoration of the great milestone they were about to reach before bidding their subjects goodbye. All they needed was for the guest of honour to make her grand entrance. 

“Don’t worry, Yugo. We promise to use this time wisely to properly test out the portals.” Chibi assured his brother, his dragon twin nodding by his side. It was funny, in a way, he and Grougal were about to spend Eliatrope knows how long locked away in their workshop, and yet he looked much more regal than his brother and king did at the moment in his usual cloak and battlesuit combo. 

There was a reason why he always went with gold-plated upper armour. It never went out of style. 

Yugo placed a hand on the shoulders of both of them, his smile belying just how much trust he had for his genius siblings. 

“Thank you, guys. I know you will not let me down.”

The moment was interrupted by Qilby’s amused voice, his words announcing the arrival they had all been waiting for. 

“My, if this isn’t a trip down memory lane!”

Followed by Amalia’s soft giggling. “Thank you, Qilby. I thought it was only fitting.”

His brow furrowed in confusion at the conversation, Yugo peeked over Chibi and Grougal’s forms as they were unintentionally obstructing his view of Amalia. The moment he saw her, he understood completely—and his mouth went a little dry. 

Talking to Qilby stood Amalia, decked out in a very familiar outfit. A very familiar outfit he hadn’t seen in months, since she first arrived at Oma Island, to be precise. 

“Amalia.” She perked up at the sound of her name. Her eyes left Qilby as she turned to the origin of the voice, a small smile immediately plastering itself on her face at the sight of an approaching Yugo. “I’m guessing this is what you meant when you said you had something else in mind?”

She nodded with a laugh, opening her arms wide to gesture down at herself and her outfit. It had been so long, the Eliatrope had almost forgotten about the dress made out of autumn-like leaves that exposed delicious patches of her skin—her upper and lower back, her long, toned legs, her profile… Or the way her wild mane was delicately pulled up by that horned headband of hers, her ponytail standing tall and proud like a tree’s leaves in spring while delicate strands of emerald hair perfectly framed her face and draped down around her nape. As per usual with Amalia, who apparently couldn’t go a day without accessorising, she completed the look with matching green wristbands and anklets. 

“I know King Oakheart insisted we didn’t need to dress up for the occasion, but these are my father’s people. I want to present myself as the Divine Doll that I am, and that means appearing as my father created me.” The doll explained, her brown eyes steely with resolve even as her voice held an unmistakable warmth. 

For a moment, Yugo could only stare at her, taken aback, before his expression softened. He saw himself and his siblings reflected in her, in her devotion to her people just as they were devoted to theirs, even if her interactions with Sadida’s worshippers had been fairly limited.

A small gasp escaped her and her eyes flicked up and down when Yugo delicately took her hands in his, without so much as a warning, and leaned down so they were face to face.

“I’m sure they’ll appreciate everything you are doing for them.” He smiled. 

She smiled right back. “That’s all I ask.”

“Hey, lovebirds!” Nora’s teasing voice broke the spell, sending fire to their cheeks and causing them to turn back to her. “As much as I hate to interrupt this touching moment, everyone is waiting.” She jabbed a thumb over her shoulder to make her point. Suddenly, the impatient murmurs coming from below the palace became much louder.

The king’s face was scrunched up in annoyance at his sister’s dedication to embarrassing him for a second. Taking one deep breath as he willed himself to let it go—though not without swearing to get back at her later—, he nodded at his siblings, signalling it was time to get this show on the road. 

“Let’s go.”

They all nodded back at him and started filing out of the corridor leading to the balcony and onto the veranda. 

Amalia stayed behind for a moment, her own face scrunched up in confusion as she racked her brain to understand why Nora would call her and Yugo ‘lovebirds’. But those thoughts were banished from her mind when the Eliatrope in question bowed slightly and gestured for her to do the honours and lead the way. 

“Are you ready?”

“Huh?” The doll blinked. Her eyes followed the direction his hands were pointing at until they reached the large balustrade keeping people from falling off the balcony in front of her and the backs of the already congregating members of the Council. The brightness coming from the outside world was a nice contrast to the faint light inside the palace walls. “Oh! Yes! Yes, of course.”

Without another word, the departing members of the Council of Six and the Sadida Doll emerged from within the shadows and stepped into the midday sun, coming into view of their loyal Eliatrope people, who watched with starry eyes. Even so, they would not have needed to say a word, for their subjects didn’t waste any time filling the silence with cheers at the sight of them. 

As expected of his position as king, Yugo stepped forward and in front of his siblings and the doll, drawing all eyes to him, and addressed his subjects first, “My people! Today we have been granted with an opportunity we would be foolish to decline. As I am sure you all already know, recently, we received yet another visit from Master Joris, Bonta’s ambassador. 

“However, much to our surprise, this time he wasn’t acting exclusively on behalf of his nation. He came with a message from King Oakheart Sheran Sharm,” his eyes flickered meaningfully over to Amalia, “ruler of the Sadida Kingdom.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, a chorus of gasps could be heard from down below. Just like their leader before them, in an instant, countless hopeful gazes flicked over to the Divine Doll. She seemed to shine like a beacon of hope; she was the key to their acceptance into this world.

Meanwhile, Yugo continued. “The royal family wished to invite Amalia to their territory as their guest of honour, so their people could meet their god’s child. And, naturally, as her hosts, we were invited as well.”

Then, it was Adamaï who took a step forward, coming to stand right beside his twin. “Of course, after some deliberation, we agreed; the advantages of such an arrangement far surpassing its risks. And here we are today, presenting ourselves before you right as we are about to set out on yet another diplomatic mission for the sake of our future.”

“Much like we did before we left for Bonta, we sincerely ask of you that you pray for our safe return.” Efrim spoke up next. While his cautionary words raised some eyebrows, most of the people in attendance were far too engrossed in their own euphoria to notice. They simply cheered louder. 

Next to him, Nora frowned, determined to make up for her twin’s poor wording. “And do wish us good luck, so today’s visit will be a success and the first of many more meetings between allies!”

Amidst their people’s congratulatory echoes and thunderous applause, all of which brought a warm smile to Amalia’s face, touched by the love and trust the Eliatropes felt for their leaders, she registered movement from the corner of her eyes. She looked up in surprise to find Yugo, his head slightly bent down so it would be easier to meet her gaze. 

“Would you like to say some words?”

She started at his suggestion. “Wait, what? You want me to give a speech?” If possible, her bewilderment only grew when he simply nodded. “But these are your people! Won’t they prefer to hear what you have to say?”

The king just shrugged, his cloak bobbing up and down with his movements. “We’re going to be visiting your people. If anything, whatever you have to say will probably be more important than our little speech.”

The doll considered it. Normally, the last thing she would want would be to overstep her boundaries and undermine the Council’s authority in their own territory. But Yugo was right. As a Sadida Doll, her input was crucial when it came to her divine father’s followers. And the Eliatropes were beyond eager to finally establish peaceful relations with the Twelvians, so they would be keen on listening to what she had to say. Especially if it promised that, by  the end of the day, the inhabitants of Oma Island would be able to call the Sadida their allies. 

At last, she made up her mind, sending a resolute nod Yugo’s way before advancing across the platform until she was under the proverbial spotlight. 

Truth be told, it was more than a little daunting to be addressing the Eliatropes like this, especially when she could feel their bright, brown eyes, hungry for answers, piercing through her skin. Just like she couldn’t ignore the Council staring intently at her back, intrigued by what she might say—although, knowing Efrim, he was probably glaring at her. Even so, despite her slight apprehension and the slight tremor of her hands, she took a deep breath and willed her frantic heartbeat to slow down, and her voice to remain unwavering as she uttered each and every word with an ease and conviction that shocked even her. 

“My dear Eliatrope people,” she began, her voice loud and clear like a waterfall. “There are no words to express just how grateful I am for your generosity and hospitality these past few months. Even with my divine nature, I doubt if I will ever be able to repay you for everything you have done for me.

“However, I was sent here for a reason—to bridge the gap between you and the natives of this world. And what better way to do that than ensuring you and the Sadida, the Tree People of the World of Twelve, are united by more than my presence?”

As she spoke, her expression turned solemn. For a moment, she wondered if she should truly speak about this, admit her own limitations, but her principles came first. She owed it to the Eliatropes to be completely honest after everything they had done for her. Better to advise caution than to let them get their hopes up only for them to be completely dashed down the line. 

“To tell you the truth, I have not had the chance to interact with my father’s worshippers, at least not since I first met the royal family at Bonta.” At her revelation, worried murmurs erupted all around the attending Eliatropes, with furrowed brows being exchanged and hands being brought to their faces as a sign of their concern. Panicking slightly at their apprehension but refusing to let it show, Amalia scrambled to assuage their worries. “Having said that, the moment I first laid my eyes on them I immediately felt a kinship. A connection so powerful it washed away all my doubts in an instant. 

“The Sadida truly are the Leafy God’s people. I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that we share the same values and that their devotion to Sadida is pure and unquestionable. As it is their loyalty to his will and that of me and my sisters. As such, I can confidently say that they want this alliance as much as I do. And I cross my Ogrine heart and hope to die were my vow dishonest, that I will do everything in my power to ensure it happens.”

While the Eliatropes were still hanging onto her every word, enraptured by the sincerity and solemnity in her voice, the spell was broken by something even more powerful—shock. A powerful silence fell over the entire area as the Divine Doll bowed her body ninety degrees, her deep respect and appreciation for the people gathered, regardless of social station, shining through her actions. 

“Selfish as it may be,” she made sure to raise her voice so it could be heard even from her awkward position, “I sincerely hope you can place your trust on me and on the fact that I will not disappoint you.”

The moment of silence stretched into a lull, and Yugo was beginning to grow fidgety. Even though he believed, with every fiber of his being, that Amalia meant each and every word—a great wave of affection overtaking his entire being at the sight of her dedication to her role and duties—, he was beginning to dread his subjects’ reactions. 

What if Amalia’s admission of not truly knowing the Sadida caused them to doubt her capabilities? What if now they were left with even less hope than when they first arrived?

The last thing his people could afford to lose was hope. 

His eyes flickered over to Adamaï, seeking his comfort and wisdom, but the brisk shake of his horned head made it clear the dragon was at a loss, as well. Even as his eyes quickly scanned his siblings, trying to gouge their reactions, all he could discern was that they seemed to be evenly divided between shock at the doll’s actions and unease at their subjects’ reaction.

His eyes went back to Amalia, who remained bowed. If one looked closely, they could see the way her hands had curled into fists against her thighs as slight tremors went down her body, a clear sign of her anxiousness. Great Goddess above, if he was feeling this nervous, he couldn’t even begin to imagine what the poor doll had to be going through. 

It began small and low, like a ripple before a downpour, but soon enough, the distant sound of clapping hands grew louder and louder, until it became downright thunderous and near deafening. Soon it was accompanied by Boowolf whistling and cheers, all in the Divine Doll’s name.

“Long live Lady Amalia!”

“May Eliatrope’s portals guide you!”

“Long live the Eliatropes and Sadida!”

At first, Amalia was speechless, taken aback by the overwhelming support, but, just then, her face broke into a watery smile, tears of joy and emotion welling in her eyes as she waved back at the Eliatropes and thanked them profusely for the faith they had on her.

Yugo let her be for a while, his siblings and him coming to join her as they thanked their people for the trust they’d chosen to place on them and promised to return soon with good news. 

But all things must come to an end. 

Bringing a round bottle to her face, he asked, “Are you ready?”

Her eyes matching the fire in his own, she nodded with a smirk and snatched the bottle from his hand. With one last look around her little entourage to signal it was time to go, they all threw their heads back and gulped down the contents of the recall potion in one go, disappearing in a flash of light. 

[thyras]

→ of the rings of power

PAIRING → halbrand | sauron x female!elf!reader

WORD COUNT → 5k words

SERIES → of sauron & the moriquendi

WARNINGS → canon divergence

SUMMARY → you have the means to save your people, but can you grapple with what that might mean?

AUTHORS NOTE → so there is MASSIVE canon divergence in this part, it will be righted in the end but I just wanted to clarify this going forward. it needed to be done for the sake of what I have planned. also I had to split up this part because it was already 10k words and I doubt y'all wanted to read all that lol 💕

PARTS → masterlist

“Why am I not surprised?” Gil-galad said, his voice cool and cutting, as you and Galadriel ascended the grand stone steps where he and Elrond stood, framed by the soft golden haze of Lindon’s light. The words hung in the air like an unsheathed blade, gleaming and poised to strike. You swallowed hard against the weight of them, your breath catching at the implication. Your secret—the delicate web of silence you had spun—was unraveling strand by strand.

Galadriel strode beside you, her expression as poised and inscrutable as ever. She knew who he was. She had peered into the shadow he cast but had yet to see how deeply you were entwined with him. The truth, terrible and unrelenting, thudded against your ribs, a drumbeat that would not let you rest.

Yet you could not lie to your High King. Though you had bristled at his decisions, and his ambitions chafed against your own convictions, the ancient bond of elven loyalty coursed through your veins like an unbroken chain. To deceive him would be to sever a part of yourself. And yet… you already had.

The lies you had spun were not mere words but deeds—a betrayal that had cracked like thunder across the Ages, leaving wounds that bled into the present. You had sacrificed two of the most precious things you possessed, binding them into a cause you believed would shield your people. And then Elrond, with his clear eyes and resolute heart, had taken them and fled, not out of spite but duty. A duty you could not begrudge him. He, too, sought to preserve what little hope remained.

You reached the summit of the steps, and together you bowed low before the High King. The light of the sun bathed Gil-galad in gold, and his gaze, sharp as tempered steel, seemed to pierce the very fabric of your being. Galadriel spoke, her voice steady and measured despite the storm brewing in the space between you all.

“High King,” she began, her words cutting through the rush of blood pounding in your ears.

You kept your head bowed, unwilling to meet his eyes. When Galadriel rose, so did you, though your movements were slower, your body heavy with dread. For a moment, you dared glance at Elrond, his expression unreadable as stone. Your own gaze, pained and pleading, went unanswered.

“Herald Elrond carries three Rings,” Galadriel continued, but before she could finish, the words spilled from your own lips.

“A means of halting the fading and saving our people,” you said, your voice trembling but resolute as your eyes finally met Gil-galad’s. His gaze bore into yours with an intensity that made your chest constrict. He already suspected, you realized. He would not stop until he unearthed the truth, no matter how deeply you had buried it.

“We will discuss the Rings,” he said, his voice hardening, “once one of you answers the question.”

You saw Galadriel falter under the weight of his scrutiny, her usual composure fracturing like ice under pressure. You clenched your hands, clasping them tightly to stop their trembling.

“Elrond just informed me, Lady Galadriel, that this Halbrand is not who he claimed to be,” Gil-galad continued, his voice rising like a storm. His gaze swept over the two of you, thunderous and unyielding. “Yet you chose to withhold this knowledge. From him, from Lady Thilwen, and from Celebrimbor. Why?” He paused, his piercing eyes locking onto you. “Though by the look on your face, Lady Thilwen, it seems you know the answer to my question.”

Your breath hitched as his words struck home, and you dropped your gaze to your hands. The truth burned within you, a flame you could neither extinguish nor control. You could feel Galadriel’s eyes on you now, sharp and questioning, as if she believed you still unaware of the depths of the deception. But how could you be?

Your heart beat to the rhythm of his. Even now, under Lindon’s radiant light, you felt his presence, a dark tendril reaching for you across the expanse. He pulled at you, whispered promises of healing, of restoration. But you knew better. You had seen the fire smoldering in his eyes, the hunger for power masked by righteousness. He would take the Rings and twist their light to shadow, bending them to his will.

“I do,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. The Sindarin words tasted bitter on your tongue, and you dared not lift your eyes.

“Who is he?” Gil-galad demanded, his tone unrelenting.

“He is not who we thought,” Galadriel interjected, her voice softer now, tinged with an emotion you could not place. Your eyes met hers for a fleeting moment, and in that shared glance, you found a fragile thread of solidarity—two hearts bruised by the same cruel deception.

Gil-galad shook his head, his patience fraying. “Why do you dance around the truth?”

“High King,” you said in Sindarin, the words flowing from you like a prayer. “You must believe she would never knowingly endanger our kind.” The lie came easily, though it left a bitter ache in its wake. For you could no longer say the same of yourself.

Even now, his presence seeped into your mind, his voice a song you longed to answer. But you would not. You could not. Whatever love you had borne for him, whatever thread still tied your fëar to his, you could not let him have the Rings. Not now. Not ever.

You had already betrayed your people once. You would not do so again.

“I will believe you when I no longer see the lie behind your eyes,” Gil-galad said, his voice sharp as flint, cutting through the growing tension like a blade. His gaze bore into you with an unrelenting weight, and you felt yourself crumbling under the combined force of his scrutiny and Galadriel’s silent grief. The weight of your secret, heavy and jagged, pressed against your chest, and for a moment you thought you might drown in it.

“Now,” he demanded, his voice colder still, “who is this Man?”

“He is no Man,” Galadriel began, her voice calm yet strained, like the taut string of a bow about to snap. But your attention wavered, your focus shifting past the High King’s piercing stare to Elrond, standing just beyond him. You watched as the realization dawned in his eyes, subtle but unmistakable. He knew now. He understood.

Galadriel’s words continued, unspooling like a thread unraveling from a tapestry. “He has been… masquerading as one. Appearing in fair form, to hide his true self.”

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat growing tighter with each word. The guilt surged through you, a tempest rising in your mind, and for just a moment, your defenses faltered.

And that was all the opening he needed.

“Y/n,” his voice breathed against your ear, low and honeyed, wrapping around you like the velvet caress of shadow. The sound of your birth name on his lips froze the blood in your veins, chilling you to your core. He always wielded it like a weapon, a sharpened dagger aimed at the heart. He used it when he wanted to break you, to remind you of the bond that bound you to him like chains.

“You are going to have to tell them at some point,” he murmured, his voice dripping with malice and cruel amusement. The words coiled around your mind like smoke, suffocating and inescapable. “And they will chastise you.”

The air seemed to thin, your breath hitching as his presence grew heavier. You could feel the brush of his lips, not physical but ghostly and invasive, curling at the shell of your ear. “Exile you… And then where will you go, hmm?” he taunted, his voice dipping into a low growl. “You’ll come crawling back to me.”

Tears burned at the edges of your vision, spilling hot and unchecked down your face. You fought against the tremor in your hands, against the shadowy hold that wrapped around your throat, his touch intangible but no less suffocating. You could feel him trace the lines of your strained neck, his presence as real as the pounding of your heart.

Across from you, Elrond’s sharp eyes locked on yours. Concern flickered across his face, mingled with wariness. He could see the turmoil in you, the raw emotion that had taken hold. He did not understand its source, but you knew he saw enough to know something was deeply wrong.

“Get out of my head,” you hissed, your voice trembling but defiant, throwing the words like a lifeline into the void where his presence lingered.

“Only when you stop letting me in, divine,” he purred, his voice laced with mockery and sweetness that made you want to scream. His ghostly fingers brushed over your lips, teasing and cruel, before his presence faded like the last whisper of a dying breeze.

And just like that, he was gone—for now. The air around you felt lighter, though the ache in your chest lingered like the phantom grip of his hand around your throat.

You wiped at your face quickly, forcing yourself to stand straighter, to steel your composure. But as you turned your attention back to Galadriel, the words you had been dreading fell from her lips like a death knell.

“He is Sauron.”

The silence that followed was deafening, as though the world itself recoiled at the revelation. You felt the weight of it crash over you, an unrelenting tide pulling you under. And though you had known it was coming, the truth spoken aloud struck like a hammer, reverberating through the hearts of those around you.

Gil-galad stood unmoving, his face a mask of unreadable stone, but Elrond’s expression was a different story. His gaze shifted between you and Galadriel, his disbelief and horror plain as the rising moon.

And you? You stood there trembling, your nails biting into your palms as you fought to hold the walls of your mind upright, to keep him from seeping through the cracks once more. Your truth, your shame, and your devotion to him clung to you like chains, binding you to a shadow you could never truly escape.

“Let me speak with him first,” you said, your voice steady despite the unease twisting in your chest. Gil-galad, who had begun to swing his leg over his mount, paused at your words, then settled back into his saddle with a measured glance. His silence pressed on you like the weight of the sun at its zenith, but when he nodded, the tension eased only slightly.

After Elrond’s leap from the cliff with the Rings, chaos had followed—the frantic search, the uncertainty, the unanswered questions that hung like shadows over Lindon. While others scrambled to piece together what had happened, you had taken it upon yourself to find him. Not only because you knew him, not only because you bore the weight of responsibility, but because you understood Elrond’s heart better than most.

Galadriel might have been the wiser choice to reason with him, her words as sharp and unyielding as the swords she once wielded. Yet you knew it was not sharpness Elrond needed now. He would turn to Círdan, or to one who carried the wisdom of many long centuries, someone who could temper logic with understanding. Though impartiality was far from your grasp at this moment, you prayed the years of trust you and Elrond shared would be enough.

“Please, High King,” you implored, your voice softer now but no less resolute. “Give me a chance to reason with him.”

Gil-galad’s brows knit together for a moment, his piercing gaze weighing your request as though to test the sincerity of your motives. Finally, he inclined his head, though his tone was clipped as he replied, “Reason quickly.”

You nodded, dismounting swiftly, your shoes crunching against the gravel-strewn path. The cool breeze kissed your cheeks, but it did little to calm the heat burning within you. With each step toward the workshop, your hands twitched, your fingers curling and flexing as if they sought to grasp the right words from the air itself. You rehearsed them silently, each phrase echoing in your mind, turning over every angle, every possible reaction.

The walk stretched out before you, each step drawing you closer to the confrontation you dreaded. The road was quiet, save for the occasional whisper of wind through your hair and the gentle cresting of the waves against the shore. It gave you too much time to think—of what had led you here, of what had been lost, of the choices that had brought Elrond to this moment.

When at last you reached the door, you paused, your hand hovering over the weathered wood. You exhaled slowly, the breath trembling as it left your lips. For a moment, you closed your eyes, steadying yourself. The weight of everything unsaid pressed against your chest, but you pushed it aside.

You opened the door slowly, the hinges creaking in protest as the dim light of the workshop spilled out to meet you. The room smelled faintly of wood shavings and the salt of the nearby sea, a scent that had always brought you a sense of calm. Now, it felt hollow. Elrond sat at one of the craft tables, his back to you, his gaze fixed on the harbor beyond. The gentle lap of the water against the dock seemed almost in rhythm with his thoughts, though he made no move to acknowledge your presence.

“Elrond?” you said softly, his name slipping from your lips like a plea.

He turned slightly at the sound, just enough to glance at you from the corner of his eye. His shoulders sagged under the weight of his burden, and though his face betrayed no anger, the sorrow etched into his features made your heart ache.

“I have come to coax you out willingly,” you continued, taking a careful step forward. “Please.” You paused, your voice faltering as the enormity of the moment settled on you. “He will remove you by force if I fail to do so.”

Elrond turned away again, his gaze returning to the water. The slump of his shoulders deepened, and you knew then that he was caught in a whirlwind of regret, his mind teetering between the justification of his actions and the guilt that gnawed at him.

“Elrond, we have been friends for centuries,” you said, your voice carrying a quiet urgency. “We have worked side by side, through trials and triumphs alike.”

You stepped closer, your movements slow and deliberate, as though any sudden action might shatter what fragile thread of trust remained. When you reached the table, you noticed a cup resting in front of him, its contents nearly gone. Lowering yourself, you knelt beside the table, your hands resting lightly on its surface to steady yourself. You hoped the gesture would show him the depth of your sincerity, the desperation in your heart.

“Please,” you said again, your voice almost breaking. “I only ask you to trust us. Trust that the Rings will help us.”

Elrond finally turned to face you, his expression a storm of doubt and disappointment. His gaze bore into yours with a piercing intensity that made you falter.

“How can you trust someone who was deceived?” he asked, his voice low but firm.

The question struck you like a blow, and you felt the walls you had carefully constructed around your guilt begin to crumble. Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you hesitated. But as the silence stretched between you, you realized you could not carry this weight any longer. If there was to be any hope of mending what was broken, he had to know.

“Because I too was deceived,” you admitted, your voice trembling under the weight of the confession. Tears welled in your eyes and spilled down your cheeks as you reached for his hand, clasping it in both of yours. The warmth of his touch was a fragile, though his eyes remained cautious, guarded.

“I met him ages ago,” you began, your voice thick with emotion. “In his first fair form. My fëa sang so heavily for him, like Eru himself had woven us together, destined us to be as one.”

Elrond’s eyes narrowed, suspicion darkening his features, and he pulled his hand from yours abruptly, rising to his feet. His sudden movement startled you, and you looked up at him, the tears on your cheeks glinting in the dim light.

“I married him,” you continued, the words tumbling out now, unbidden and unstoppable. “I loved him, devoted my entire life to him. Morion was him, but back then, there was no trace of shadow in him, no hint of what he would become.”

“Thilwen,” Elrond interrupted, his voice sharp and disbelieving. “How do you think—”

“I am telling you this,” you cut him off, your voice rising in desperation, “because you need to understand how deeply I have wanted to atone for my guilt, for the ruin I helped bring to this world.” Your hands clenched into fists as you looked up at him, raw anguish written across your face. “I sheltered him for centuries, blind to the truth of what he was. And when his master returned, I was cursed—damned to never have my husband back. He burned my city to the ground in a diluted, twisted hope that Morgoth would free me.”

Elrond’s face hardened, his lips pressing into a thin line as he stared down at you. His silence was louder than any words, and when he finally spoke, his voice was low and filled with quiet fury.

“How am I supposed to trust you on any subject after this?”

The words struck with the force of a hammer, and your composure shattered. The room seemed to close in around you, the walls pressing against your chest as you struggled to breathe. Yet you did not look away from him, even as your tears fell faster.

“Because,” you whispered, your voice breaking, “I have nothing left to hide.” You stood once more, your legs trembling but steady enough to hold the weight of your resolve. “I sacrificed my most cherished items to make those rings,” you said, your voice firm despite the crack of emotion that threatened to betray you. “I know in my heart that he has not corrupted them, even if they were his gifts to me.”

Elrond’s expression darkened, his sharp eyes narrowing as he took a step closer, his presence imposing though his voice remained calm, measured. “But are you?” he countered, his tone cutting through the space between you like a blade. “Is your heart still pure, or does he still hold a tight grip on that as well?”

The question hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. You looked down at the stone floor, the cold surface grounding you as the memories you had tried so desperately to bury threatened to rise once more.

“I would not be telling you this if I was still tied to him,” you replied, your voice softer now, but no less resolute. Slowly, you lifted your gaze to meet Elrond’s, your eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I loved Morion, not what he became. I mourn my husband, not his shadow.”

You paused, your words sinking into the silence between you. The ache in your chest was raw, exposed, but you would not flinch from the truth. “For all intents and purposes, Elrond, my husband is dead.”

The admission left you hollow yet oddly lighter, as though speaking the words aloud had finally released some small piece of the burden you carried. Elrond’s gaze softened, though his eyes still searched yours for any flicker of doubt, any trace of the shadow you had renounced.

But there was none. Only the pain of loss, the weight of guilt, and the unyielding determination to right what you had once helped break.

“Elrond, where are the rings?” you breathed, your voice trembling with quiet urgency. You took a step closer, searching his face for any trace of honesty, any flicker of the truth he might have been concealing. But as his gaze shifted, avoiding yours, the realization struck you like a wave crashing against the shore. This had all been a stalling game—a deliberate attempt to buy time.

“Where is Círdan?” you pressed, the name sharp on your tongue as your heart began to race. The dim light of the workshop seemed to grow heavier, the air thicker, as the weight of what Elrond had not said settled over you. The faintest flicker of guilt crossed his features, a shadow too fleeting for anyone less familiar with him to catch.

Your breath quickened, dread coiling in your chest like a serpent as you turned to look out at the horizon. Whatever had been set into motion, it was already far beyond your reach.

As the ring rested at the tip of your shoe, the soft singing rose to meet your ears, weaving a melody so familiar it felt as if it were carved into the very essence of your being. The harmony resonated with your soul, a piece of the song that had first called you into existence.

You bent down, your fingers trembling as you picked it up. The silver gleamed brilliantly in your hands, its light radiant and pure. It had once been your hairpiece, a relic of your past, but now it was something far greater: the object crafted to save your people. Your heart hammered wildly in your chest, the weight of the moment pressing down on you.

The Valar had chosen you.

A creature who had once been so pure, untainted by the darkness that had swept over so many. You were of Eru’s song, created to exist in harmony, and yet your fëa was bound to the very shadow you now sought to resist. Over countless centuries, you had been tempted by that shadow, tested by its alluring whispers, and yet you had never lost the core of your elven purity.

You saw the beauty in Eru’s design, the passion and love in his song for his Quendi. But you also understood the evil that had twisted the hearts of those who had stayed behind, who had become the Moriquendi. You had never faltered in your belief that even in the darkest places, there was light. Even in shadow, beauty could be found.

Mairon had taught you that.

Though he had been a being of shadow, with you he had radiated light. The centuries you had spent together in the brilliance of his better nature had shown you this truth. And now, as you accepted the ring into your hand, the Valar had entrusted you with a sacred honor. To be the bearer of Nenya.

Your gaze shifted to Galadriel. She stood nearby, her expression a mixture of stunned awe and quiet reverence, her sharp eyes drawn to the way the ring glimmered, as though it encompassed the very light of the stars.

You slipped Nenya onto your fourth finger, letting it rest above your silver band—the one that had once brought you so much pain to even look upon. Now, it bore its delicate blue inscription anew, shimmering in harmony with Nenya’s beauty.

As the ring settled on your hand, the weight of the air around you shifted. The shadow of your curse seemed to lighten, lifting like a veil drawn back from the horizon. For the first time in an Age, there was no taunting whisper, no pull to the Void, only a profound and radiant silence.

The silver chain around your neck, once a reminder of your burden, felt lighter as well, no longer heavy with sorrow. You stepped forward, moving toward Círdan and Gil-galad with a newfound grace. The three rings began to hum in unison, their melodies weaving together, resonating with the deep song that had always sung from within your fëa.

You looked up at them, your smile soft but certain.

The light of the tree grew brighter behind you, its radiance washing over the courtyard. The once-dead leaves began to sprout anew, their golden glow flourishing with a brilliance that defied description. The air was filled with life and energy, a harmony that resonated with the essence of all creation.

You turned, your breath catching in your chest as you took in the sight. Your world—your home—was coming alive again.

A smile of pure joy spread across your lips, the first in an Age untouched by sorrow or longing. The song, the light, the life surrounding you felt like a promise fulfilled, a sign that even in the darkest times, the light would always find its way back.

As it finally had with you.

You carefully covered the seeds, your fingers pressing the soil down gently before you whispered a few soft Quenya words into the earth. Rising, you looked up at the wooden relief of Calandil etched into the tree’s bark. Your fingers brushed away a few vines that had grown over it, revealing the finely carved features of the being who had once saved you.

A fond smile touched your lips as you gazed upon the image. Calandil—the elf who had sacrificed himself so that you, his family, and others might escape the burning city.

A part of you knew, even back then, that he had always known. He had seen through Mairon’s facade, sensed the darkness lurking beneath the golden veneer. But you had been too blinded by the pull of Mairon’s fëa, too consumed by your love, to listen.

Tears welled in your eyes, but you held them back. That final moment with Calandil was forever etched into your memory: the fires consuming the city, the cacophony of screams, and his bloodied, grime-streaked face as he pressed you to leave. You had clutched at the cool metal of his armor, begging him to come with you, but he had refused, knowing his place was to buy you time.

You had never loved him the way you loved Mairon, but Calandil had shown you a kindness and devotion you could never forget. Even after all that had happened, he had stood by you, believing in you when few others did. His sacrifice would never be in vain; you had vowed it.

Your left hand rested lightly on the bark of the tree, and you spoke more words in Quenya, your voice a soft prayer. The faint chime of the ring on your finger joined the melody, and a bittersweet smile graced your lips as you leaned forward to press your forehead against the bark.

“Thank you, my old friend, for everything you did,” you whispered.

A soft creaking of the wood responded, as though the tree itself acknowledged your gratitude, and for a moment, you felt Calandil’s presence, accepting your thanks.

“Talking to the trees again?”

You turned at the sound of Elrond’s voice. He approached slowly, his face impassive, but you could sense the agitation simmering beneath the surface. He was not pleased that you had willingly accepted the ring, knowing what he now knew of your past.

“They talk to me, and I listen,” you replied with a soft smile, but Elrond did not return it. He stopped beside you, his gaze fixed on the relief carved into the tree.

The silence stretched between you until, finally, he spoke.

“If what you’ve told me is true, then you should not return to Eregion,” he said, his voice low and measured.

“But that is why I must go,” you countered without hesitation.

Elrond turned to you then, his gaze sharp as it locked with yours. “You are hardly capable of withstanding his influence, Thilwen. Your very fëa is bound to him. Willing or unwilling, he will take the ring from you.”

“Elrond,” you sighed, turning away to look at Nenya gleaming on your finger. The sight brought a lump to your throat, but you swallowed hard, your voice steady as you continued. “The ring chose me because, out of everyone in Middle-earth,” you paused, tears spilling freely now, “I am the only one he will never see betray him. I have stood loyal to him, devoted to him, for Ages.”

“And what makes you think he won’t manipulate you, twist you into giving him the power of that ring?” Elrond pressed.

You slid Nenya off your finger, and immediately, the weight of Morgoth’s curse descended upon you. Pain shot through your body, the dark tendrils spreading across your forearm like wildfire. Pulling back your sleeve, you revealed the mark to him.

“I was marked by Morgoth so that he could keep his faithful servant at his side,” you said, your voice even but laced with emotion. Elrond’s fingers hovered near the mark, hesitating as though he feared to touch it. “Sauron’s one wish in this world is to see me healed, to see his master’s curse lifted. It is what drives the very core of his being. I am his greatest weakness, and Morgoth knew that. He will not harm me if he believes I can be healed.”

“Thilwen,” Elrond sighed heavily as you slipped Nenya back onto your finger. The pain eased instantly, the tendrils receding as though the ring’s light banished them.

“You are playing a dangerous game,” he said, his voice filled with concern. “The risk is too great.”

You reached up, your hand gently brushing against Elrond’s face. “Have trust, Elrond Peredhel, for I have walked these shores longer than your ancestors have.”

A faint smile broke through his worry, and he wrapped his fingers around your wrist, steadying you. “I have trust in you, my lady, but it is him I do not trust.”

“Rightfully so,” you said softly, a wry smile touching your lips. “But how about you let me worry about that.”

Elrond chuckled lightly, his smile warm but tinged with sadness. The two of you stood in silence for a while, letting the tension ebb between you.

“We will see each other again, my friend,” you said after a time, your voice firm with quiet conviction. “I promise.”

[viridescentelf]

A Festive Kiss - SDV Elliott x Reader

hi guys! happy holidays :)

i always wanted a stardew valley winter event mod where you can pick a bachelor who will save the winter star play. based on your choice, other bachelors will also randomly have to fill in two additional roles lol

it would be so cool to see different versions of the play based on who you pick haha. in my head it sounds like a fun idea, might be a nightmare to mod idk i've never done something like that before.

anyway lol i wanted to write a festive Elliott x Reader fluff piece! enjoy <3

Summary: The Stardew Valley Winter Star Play is tomorrow and poor Gus, who normally plays Santa Claus, is sick with the flu. Your job is to find someone to reprise the role for the saloon owner. You pick Elliott, your secret crush.

Word Count: 3k

-----

Gus coughed so loud that it rang in your ears. Lewis couldn’t help but twitch every time the poor saloon owner had one of his fits, while Harvey calmly measured his temperature. You stood by the door, having entered to buy some recipes from your friend, only to find him bedridden.  

“Yup, this looks like the flu. Gus, you need lots of fluids and rest. I’ll bring you some cough sirup and medicine.”

“B-But-“ Gus coughed again while he attempted to contest, sitting up slightly and holding a wet handkerchief to his mouth.

“No buts. You have a high fever,” Harvey interrupted as he pushed his patient gently back into his pillow. “I’m sorry, Gus, but you won’t be able to do anything other than sleep for a while.”

Lewis approached the bed and sighed sympathetically: “Don’t worry about the play, Gus. We’ll figure it out! You take care now and get lots of rest.”

Gus grumbled into his handkerchief. He spied you in the doorway and waved defeatedly.

You waved back and furrowed your brows sympathetically. He looked terrible, poor guy. You would brew some tea for him from Caroline’s saplings once you returned to your farm.

Lewis finally took notice of you, while Harvey packed up his bag and simultaneously gave Gus some recovery advice. The mayor walked up to you, somewhat forcing you to step out of Gus’ room a bit.

“Ah YN, good morning. Seems we’ve got a flu epidemic. Clint and Demetrius are both sick in bed as well.”

You heard Harvey call out from Gus’ room: “This is why I keep reminding you all every year to get your flu shot!”

Lewis rolled his eyes, out of Harvey’s line of sight. You grinned slightly. The seasonal Doctor Harvey post on the notice board was usually ignored and mocked by most villagers.

The mayor indicated that he wanted to speak to you a bit further away from the door way. You followed him.

“Listen YN. As you know, the Winter Star Play is tomorrow. I would hate to cancel it, the children have been so excited. Although no one can play Santa Claus as effectively as Gus, I think we need to find a replacement.”

You tilted your head slightly, looking at Lewis’ quaffed mustache: “What about yo-?”

Lewis held his hands up, protesting the idea immediately: “No, no, that’s not possible. I’m already the narrator. It’s a huge role with way too many lines. Giving it to someone else so last minute would be cruel!”

You thought about just giving the person the story book from which the play originated from, because those were most of Lewis’ lines anyway. But he seemed very set on his role. Perhaps it meant a lot to him, just like the Santa role meant a lot to Gus.

“Alright, who already has a role? Who could we ask?”, you crossed your arms and waited for Lewis to respond while he thought.

“Hm, Willy’s already the shepherd guiding the visitors to the summit. Kent and Pam already took months to convince to just play some of the visitors. Clint and Demetrius were supposed to be a shadow person and the wizard respectively, I wonder if we can also find substitutes for those roles…”

You pictured Demetrius wearing that shabby wizard’s hat, while Clint would be draped in a black bedsheet. Would Krobus or the real wizard approve of that? You took a mental note to visit your friend in the sewers today.

“I think our only options are the younger people in the village. Sam, Abigail and Sebastian are supposed to do the music, but I’m sure they’d survive without one of them. Elliott, Shane, Harvey and Alex don’t have roles.”

You thought of Linus. He also didn’t have a role. It was sad to see that Lewis didn’t even think of him.

“YN, can you decide for me? I don’t know who would really do Gus’s Santa Claus justice. You know them all better than me. Please?”

Internally, you were screaming. You had so many other things to do on your farm, your actual job. In addition to preparing everything for the play, you had been doing your farm chores until the late evening, collapsing in bed.

“I know you’re already making the mulled wine and spiced punch for the feast. And you helped Marnie prepare the animals for the play. And you helped Leah and Robin gather the wood for the set pieces and stage. And you helped Emily and Haley make the costumes with the wool from your farm…”

And you foraged for 100 pine cones and collected 50 gems from the mines for the Winter Star display.

“But think of the children! We can’t have a play without Santa Claus! Please, YN.”

You couldn’t help but let out a sigh. Gus coughed in the background and you felt sad he couldn’t play the role he loved so dearly. You remembered how much Vincent and Jas lit up during the play. Penny worked really hard all year round to prepare art for the background.

“Fine. I’ll figure something out.”

Lewis smiled from ear to ear, patting your shoulder triumphantly: “I knew I could count on you! I’ll try to find someone to reprise the dwarf and the wizard in the meantime. Thank you, YN!”

Lewis thrust the Santa Claus outfit and fake beard into your hands. You had no idea where he had been hiding it this whole time. With that, he walked down the stairs to leave the saloon.

You only had the rest of the day to convince some unknowing villager to play a jolly mythical creature with important dialogue in a play that meant the world to the children in Stardew Valley. Easy, right?

And you still had to do your chores. And hope the wine and punch were ready.

-----

You wandered up to the mountain to forage some winter herbs for the punch. The chill air kissed your nape, making you pull your hat down a bit further. The soft thuds of your boots in the snow accompanied you on your way, as your mind raced on who you dared ask to replace Gus last minute.

Bending down to snap some rosemary twigs off their stems, you mumbled a few curses at Lewis.

“Hello YN.”

You recognized Linus’s voice and looked up at the hermit, who smiled down at you. He was carrying his trusty basket full of winter berries and pine leaf twigs.

“Hey Linus!” You returned a warm smile, as he crouched down next to you to pluck some rosemary off as well. “How are you doing?”

“Can’t complain. My tent’s nice and warm. Marnie kindly gave me a little space heater. Going fishing later, feel free to join. Lingcods are going crazy up by the pond.”

You watched him put the rosemary on top of his other forages.

“I wish I had time, Linus. I have a bit of a tight schedule today. Gus is sick and Lewis asked me to find a replacement Santa.”

“Oh, for the play? Gee, that sounds like a task.” Linus remained crouched beside you, while he observed the other bushes in the vicinity for herbs.

The hermit seemed to be avoiding eye contact with you. You stared at him anyway.

“Don’t you dare ask.”

“But you’re perfect! You at least have a real beard!”

Linus chuckled and finally met your gaze: “It’s sweet of you to want to include me. But I prefer to stay in the background and observe. It’s only recent that the villagers accept me more now, thanks to you. Sorry, sport.”

He smiled warmly, while straightening up. You kind of knew he would refuse, but you wanted to ask anyway. He was your friend after all.

“I’ll see you at the play then, right?”, you rearranged your crouching position to look up at him better.

“Yup, see you there. Good luck on your Santa mission.” He waved, making his leaf poncho rattle a bit, as he walked further up the mountain.

You stood up and headed in the opposite direction, as you stuffed the herbs into your backpack. You knew asking Sebastian wouldn’t lead anywhere, you two only became friends recently. He wasn’t too keen on being the center of attention to begin with. Plus, you felt both Seb and Sam were too young.

Shane just barely tolerated you now. You didn’t want to risk that budding comradery, although… he would probably do it for Jas.

Alex would probably do it, but would he do a good job? He would probably adlib everything, refusing to learn the lines.

Harvey. Hm. You didn’t really know him too well. Maybe he’d be up for it? He did have a very sweet nature about him.

You stopped walking, as the image of a handsome writer flashed in your mind. Someone with a knack for words and a deep appreciation for the arts and theater.

Elliott.

You felt your face burn and your stomach curl up into a ball. You already had a massive crush on him. You weren’t sure if you could risk it, although a part of you felt it would be a great choice. Would he be angry if you asked him? Would he see it as beneath him?

But Elliott had told you he was in a theater group in school, so he was probably used to learning lines fast and possibly even substituting other roles.

Your legs started walking on their own. If anything, it was another reason to see him. You had a pomegranate in your bag anyway.

-----

You found yourself in front of the writer’s cabin before you knew it. The lights were on and you heard some scuffing on wood. He was definitely home. It took you a bit to muster the courage up to knock, even though you had done it countless times before.

The closer you grew to him, the more nervous you became.

Your hand moved on autopilot, before your brain had time to process.

You knocked three times.

The scuffing grew more frantic. You could hear him gather something and run across the room, while shouting “Just a minute!” at the door.

Your stomach was doing summer saults. Was this a bad time?

The door opened suddenly and you were met with a handsome and fabulous smile. His hair was tied together for once, sleeves up to his elbows. A more casual version of the put together author your heart yearned after.  

“YN! I was just thinking about you!”

Your knees wavered slightly. He was thinking about you.

“Hey Elliott I-“

He opened the door a bit further, indicating that he wanted you to come inside. You halted your prepared speech that you had been crafting on your way down to the beach. Stepping over the landing, you were met with a lovely warmth and the subtle scent of sandalwood. His cabin was relatively clean today, except a few lone flower petals and individual stems sprawled haphazardly on the floor.

Elliott stepped in front of you, blocking your view of the littered area. You saw his foot sneakily scrape the plants into the cracks.

“Would you like some coffee? I was just about to make some.”

“Sure, thanks.”

He invited you to take a seat on his made bed. You obliged after gifting him the pomegranate you had been carrying, which he took with delight etched across his face.

As Elliott busied himself at the coffee maker, you two exchanged some minor pleasantries. He spoke about his newest chapter development, while you talked about your favorite chicken, Phil, who had managed to get a bucket stuck on his head this morning. You felt your nerves calm down. You were only really anxious when you were about to see him. You felt extremely comfortable in his presence and every fear faded into the distance. It was nice to have someone in the valley who genuinely took an interest in your day-to-day life, just like you took with his. He meant a great deal to you, because of that fact.

The writer handed you a mug of fresh coffee, as he sat down on his chair across from you. You both took a sip at the same time, enjoying the rich flavor together. It was delicious.

“You really know your coffee, Elliott. It’s amazing, as always.”

His face lit up even more, as he thanked you for the compliment.

“Listen Elliott. Gus has the flu...”

“Oh no! Poor Gus. That’s terrible news. I heard Clint was sick too. There must be a virus in the valley.”

“Yeah, Demetrius is out as well.”

“How tragic. Especially with Gus. He always plays Santa Claus. He really looks forward to it all year. What a shame…is Lewis restructuring the play? Oh no, don’t tell me he asked you to play the role! After everything you’ve done for the show?!”

“Well, no. Not exactly…” You took the opportunity to take the Santa costume out of your backpack.

Elliott’s brows furrowed, in confusion.

“I was hoping…well…you can say no. I don’t want to force you to do this. I can ask someone else! I just thought… with your theater background… and, uh… This is too much to ask last minute, I know! It’s just- I don’t know who else could pull it off. Look this play-”

“Of course I’ll do it.”

His immediate readiness took you by surprise. You gaped at him, while he returned a determined gaze.

“What. Just like that? I had a whole speech prepared.”

He chuckled, taking the red and white costume from you without hesitation. He stood up, letting it drape down in front of him. It was a bit large for him. He started mumbling to himself. You distinctly made out ask Marnie for some hay for the belly.

You stood up, still holding the fake beard.

“Elliott, you really don’t have to do this. I remember from last year, it’s a lot to memorize on such short notice.”

“Oh, that’s no problem. I memorized Richard the Third’s entire first soliloquy in two hours back in High School.”

Your face turned into a tomato, as Elliott started unbuttoning his shirt in front of you. He swung the coat on, leaving it half-open as he took the beard from you as well. It took you some time to form a coherent sentence as you watched him pose in front of the mirror, comically mismatched with his red hair and a fake white beard strapped to his chin. The coat remained open, his body reflecting the sunlight.

“W- what are you doing?”

“I have to get into character, YN. Playing a jovial, older and mythical fellow needs preparation time. Could you fetch the lines for me? And could you help me practice?”

Your too fast “Yes!” shot out of your mouth, as your eyes tried to stare at the reflection of his face and not his abs. You lingered a bit and you spotted Elliott grinning under the beard, watching you. You shook your heard to clear your mind.

“Thank you, Elliott! I won’t forget this! I’ll go get your lines from Gus!”

You stormed out of his cabin, wanting to return to him as fast as possible.

-----

The play was about to start in the town square on the stage that Robin had diligently crafted. You stood with Marnie behind the curtains, feeding the cow and sheep to keep them calm. Lewis had forced Alex and Harvey to play the wizard and the shadow person, who were both grumbling annoyed in their makeshift costumes.

Elliott was in his full attire and had been diligently repeating his lines in low mumbles. You tried not to stare at him and constricted your laugh, because the comically stuffed costume crunched as he walked. The hey had definitely rounded him out.

Peaking through the curtain, Vincent and Jas were both bouncing excitedly on their benches. Shane was sitting next to his Goddaughter, listening to her joyful exclamations with a warm smile on his lips. The rest of Valley had helped themselves to some food and snacks while they settled into their seats. Linus was talking with Robin. Penny, Maru, Haley and Emily sat together snugly, to keep each other warm in the wintery air. George sat with Evelyn, listening genuinely to her boast about the beautiful chrysanthemums she prepared for the stage decorations and bouquets. It warmed your heart to see everyone happy together. It truly was a shame that Gus, Clint and Demetrius had to stay home and rest. You decided you would bring all of them something after the play.

The band tuned their instruments and you waved at an obviously nervous Sebastion, who smiled sweetly while practicing a section on his keyboard. Sam waved too while Abigail looked over her notes.

Marnie and Lewis had disappeared somewhere, so it was just you alone with the animals. You knelt down to pet the sheep.

You heard a crunching mass approach you from behind. Someone tapped your shoulder gently.

You turned and saw Santa Claus with Elliott’s kind eyes. He was hiding something behind his back.

With his other hand, he pulled the fake beard down and grinned at you.

“Hey Santa”, you teased.

The writer laughed, making the hey in his belly shake a bit.

“I have something for you. I wanted to give it to dressed as myself and not… well… this, but now that we’re alone…”

He was fiddling with something behind his back.

Funny. You also wanted to give him a gift tonight. It was lying behind the animals, concealed away so they wouldn’t accidentally eat it.

“Wait! I have something too!” You shoved yourself behind Marnie’s cow, and took something out of a box. The stems were still wet.

You hid it behind your back as well. Standing across from each other, you were both unsure how to start.  

It seemed he was gathering courage. With his other hand, he removed the red and white hat from his head. Now his head was fully Elliott, just everything below his neck was seasonally jolly.

He was blushing. You felt your heart run a marathon.

You couldn’t take it anymore. You had been wanting to give this to him for a while. Even if it wasn't what he wanted with you, you needed to know. Right now.

With one fluid motion, you produced the beautiful poinsettia and chrysanthemum bouquet you had bought from Pierre’s this morning. The blooms sparkled in the stage light and you saw Elliott’s eyes twinkle with surprise.

He stared at it for a moment, then laughed.

Bowing slightly, he revealed the same bouquet from behind his back.

Sweet relief flooded your senses. You joined in on the laughter.

“It seems we both had the same idea” he jested. Walking towards you slightly, the belly was in the way of a hug he wanted to give you. He awkwardly tried to maneuver his way around it, but couldn’t find the proper angle.

You couldn’t help but giggle at the sight.

“Here, let me help.”

Getting on your tiptoes, you leaned slightly over the belly. The costumed writer placed a mitted hand on your cheek. Elliott stared into your eyes for a brief moment, then pulled your face towards him and pressed his lips into yours.

It was everything you imagined it would be. Firm and intense, but gentle at the same time. Time seemed to slow as you both sunk into each other. The butterflies seemed to be dancing inside you.

The lights flickered, indicating that the play would start soon. The chatter outside quieted down and Lewis had already walked on stage.

Releasing from him at the changing environment, Elliott looked down at you, longingly.

“Not how I imagined our first kiss”, he laughed again. “But it was even better for it.”

You couldn’t stop smiling. This was the best Winter Star Gift you could’ve asked for.

"It sure was festive", you grinned.

“That's a way to describe it.” he chuckled and put the hat back on his head, with his other hand readjusting the scratchy beard onto his face, his eyes not leaving yours. "Let’s do that again after the play, hm?"

You nodded excitedly: “Count me in, Mr. Claus!”

Elliott laughed, and the stringy hairs around his mouth danced in his breath: “Showtime!”

[wonderswritings]

Starless Lovers {14}

Summary: They fell from the sky. We roamed the earth. We were always meant to clash. 

Warnings: The 100 Themes, Angst, Death, Blood, Unrequited Feelings, Slow Burn, Possibly more to come

Pairings: Lexa x Sister!Reader, Bellamy Blake x Fem!Reader (eventual) War was brewing. But with the defeat of Mount Weather, that war is now over. We’re living in peace now. And Skaikru is no longer the enemy. It’s time we learn, Blood must not have blood.

Starless Lovers Masterlist | Tags

🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘

“I really don’t see why I have to do this.”

“She won’t see me, Esmeray. Please, we need her.”

“You mean you need her.”

Lexa sighed.

“Esme, please.”

“Fine.”

You huffed softly as you stood up.

“But if this goes the way I know it will, I get to say I told you so.”

“Deal.”

Lexa grinned softly as she watched you walk towards your bedroom door.

“Thank you.”

You hummed softly as you left your room. Clarke’s room was in the floor beneath yours and Lexa’s. Making your way to her room, you knocked, giving her a few minutes before you opened the door.

“What part of ‘I won’t see you’ was unclear?”

You grinned slightly, closing the door behind you.

“Wrong sister.”

Clarke looked over her shoulder, glaring slightly at you as she huffed, turning to look back out the window.

“Lexa has respected your wishes for a week, Clarke.”

“Want a cookie?”

You snorted a soft chuckle, shaking your head as you walked further into her room.

“Mature.”

“Says the one who was worse when she came to Camp Jaha.”

You shrugged slightly, sitting down in one of the chairs.

“I don’t like Skaikru.”

“I want to go home.”

“Funny.”

You nodded slightly as you cocked your head to the side.

“I said the same thing when your people held me for two months.”

Clarke turned towards you, confusion on her face.

“What?”

You hummed, slightly nodding.

“What? Did you believe you were the only one who has suffered since Mount Weather?”

Clarke’s jaw clenched, shaking her head.

“Why are you here, Riheda?”

“We have bigger concerns.”

“We don’t have any concerns at all.”

“We do. Lexa is hosting a summit with Skaikru at sundown. You’ll be returned to your people then.”

“She went to all that trouble to capture me just to let me go?”

“She went through all that trouble to save you.”

“You know when I could have used saving? When she abandoned me at Mount Weather.”

You shrugged slightly.

“Clearly you didn’t need her help.”

Clarke scoffed, shooting you a deadpanned look.

“Cleary. Why aren’t you angry with her? She left you to die.”

You nodded slightly, looking over at Clarke.

“We’ve already had this conversation Clarke, in Mount Weather. Our people come first. I cannot fault her for saving our people. Besides, they told her I was dead. She worked with the facts that she had at the time.”

“She betrayed us!”

You nodded as you looked Clarke over with a calculating eye, cocking your head to the side.

“What would you have done Clarke? If their leader offered you the same deal? Save your people at the price of mine? Would you really have chosen differently?”

Clarke clenched her jaw, shaking her head.

“I don’t betray my friends.”

“You did. You had friends in Mount Weather.”

“Those deaths are on you too, and Lexa.”

“I helped you, Clarke. I gave myself over to save your people. I was prepared to die for your people. And how did they repay me? They kept me prisoner for two months. But-”

You slightly shook your head. Playing the peace keeper was not your style, it was more Lexa’s, but you still had to try for her.

“It helps no one to dwell on the past, and that’s not why I’m here. You’re right. Lexa is not just letting you go back to your people. We want something more. We want your people to become our people. Lexa is offering Skaikru the chance to join our coalition, to become the 13th clan. No one would dare move against you because that would be moving against the Commanders.”

“Just leave me alone. I’m done. Do you understand that? I left.”

“You can go back. You can’t run away from who you are, Clarke. Join us. Bow before Lexa and your people will be safe.”

“Bow?”

Clarke glared, shaking her head.

“You and Lexa don’t give a damn about my people. I know why you’re here. I made Lexa look weak at Mount Weather, and now the Ice Nation is exploiting that. Well if she wants the power of Wanheda, kill me. Take it. Otherwise, go float yourself because I will never bow to your sister, or you.”

You smirked, nodding slightly as you stood.

“I think I like this version of you Clarke, pissed off and angry at everyone in the world and yourself.”

“I’m not-”

“You are. You’re allowed to feel your feelings Clarke.”

You slightly shook your head as you walked towards the door.

“But don’t let your feelings cloud your actions. We both know the consequences of that.”

Clarke clenched her jaw at the slight innuendo about Finn, but you were trying to reach her one last time before you left.

🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘

You walked into Lexa’s room, Lexa standing up when she saw you.

“How did it go?”

“Clarke is angry. At you, and herself.”

Lexa sighed, sitting down as you walked towards her.

“Will she do it?”

You shrugged slightly as you sat down.

“I believe, in the end, Clarke will do the right thing.”

“That’s helpful.”

You shrugged slightly, a small smile on your face.

“You’re welcome. I did my best. But I’m not the peace talker, you are.”

“Well, we’ll see about that.”

🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘

You walked next to Lexa as the guards opened the doors of the throne room, both of you walking in beside each other.

“Spek daun kos yu Heda’s.” (bow for your Commanders)

As we walked forward, all the ambassadors except Azgeda’s ambassador bowed. Titus glared at the guy as he continued standing, Titus stepping forward.

“Azgeda na spek daun fou yu Heda’s.” (Ice nation will bow before your Commanders)

Lexa sat down on the throne as you moved to stand next to it, your arm on the back of it, glaring at the ambassador.

“Heda’s beda spek daun fou Azgeda.  Oso get in nou gon fis op treaties kom oso veidas.” (The Commanders should bow before Ice Nation. We know not to make treaties with our enemies)

“Heda’s spek dauns fou non.” (the Commanders bows before no one)

Lexa slightly lifted her hand, shaking her head.

“Stand down, Titus.”

“Em seintaim prefers veidas slenge.” (she even prefers the enemies language)

“And you will use it, too, in honor of our guests this evening. Now sit. We have more important matters to discuss.”

“Yes, we do. For example, why is Wanheda still alive? If this is your weakness again, Azgeda will happily step in.”

“Is that why your army has moved so close to Polis because you believe the Commander is weak?”

“Oh, those are just military exercises.”

Indra scoffed, taking a step forward.

“Exercises? You crossed the border into Trikru land, an army within striking distance of our beloved capital.”

You slightly tilted your head to the side Lexa stood, walking around the throne, looking out the window.

“A mistake that was quickly rectified, as you well know.”

“The Ice Queen doesn’t make mistakes. She makes threats.”

Lexa slightly rolled her eyes, turning and looking at the ambassador.

“There’s no need to argue about this again. Please-”

Lexa nodded towards the balcony. “Come join me.”

The ambassador smirked at Indra and Titus, shooting you a glare as he walked forward.

“Let us speak in private. I have a question for Queen Nia.”

“And I’ll happily deliver-”

You smirked when Lexa kicked the ambassador in the chest, sending him off the ledge as he screamed. You had to stifle a laugh as Lexa turned, addressing the other ambassadors with a glare.

“Would anyone else care to question my decisions?”

The ambassadors that had stood sat back down, no one willing to stand against Lexa after that show of strength. “Good. Then let’s begin.”

🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘

You looked up when the doors opened, watching as Clarke walked towards Lexa and you as the singer sang. Lexa was standing on the step in front of you, while you stood on the step above, slightly behind her as Clarke kneeled in front of Lexa. Roan followed suit, and the others kneeled as well.  

“Hail warriors of the twelve clans.”

“Hail, Commander of the blood.”

“Rise.” 

Everyone stood, Clarke stepping towards Abby and Kane.

“We welcome Skaikru to our halls in the spirit of friendship and harmony, and we welcome Clarke kom Skaikru, legendary Wanheda, Mountain Slayer. The reason for this summit has changed. We are not here to negotiate a treaty with Skaikru, but rather to initiate them into the coalition.”

You glanced around the room as the clans started to murmur, sharing a look with Lexa.

“To symbolize this union, the leader of Skaikru must bear our mark.”

Abby looked up at Kane, nodding.

“The honor should be yours.”

Kane nodded as he looked at Lexa.

“Present your arm.”

Lexa motioned with her hand, and you watched as one of your people walked towards him with a poker. Kane lifted the sleeve of his jacket, groaning when the poker was pressed into his arm. Everyone turned when the doors slammed open, your eyes widening when you saw Bellamy, holding a grounder in a headlock, a gun to his head. Clarke made a face, stepping forward.

“Bellamy?”

Titus glared as he stepped forward while you made your way to Lexa, slightly standing in front of her.

“What is the meaning of this?”

“The summit’s a trap. We need to get you out of here.”

Clarke turned, glaring at you and Lexa.

“What the hell is going on?”

Lexa slightly shook her head as you moved to stand more in front of her.

“I don’t know.”

Bellamy let the grounder go, looking over at you, nodding slightly.

“It’s the Ice Nation.”

One of the Ice Nation delegates stepped forward, shaking his head, glaring.

“These allegations are an outrage. The Ice Nation never stormed this summit with weapons, breaking our laws. That was the Skaikru.”

The man with Bellamy and Octavia shook his head, huffing as he looked at Abby and Kane.

“We’re right about this. The two guards you left behind are dead already. We need to go, now.”

“How did you come by this information?”

Octavia made a face as she looked around their small group.

“Where the hell is Echo?”

You tensed at Echo’s name as Bellamy shook his head, looking around.

“What’s going on? Where the hell is she?”

“Bellamy, maybe we were wrong about this.”

“I don’t understand.”

Kane walked forward, taking Bellamy’s gun from him.

“Stand down.”

“Bellamy, Bellamy, come in. The grounders attacked Mount Weather.”

Bellamy reached down, grabbing his radio.

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s gone. It’s gone. They’re all gone. Sinclair and I are the only ones left. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“You should have never moved your people back into Mount Weather. The Ice Nation did what Lexa was too weak to do.”

You turned, glaring at the delegate, slowly tilting your head to the side.

“Would you like to lose your tongue?”

You took a small step forward, raising your voice.

“This is an act of war. Sentries, arrest the Ice Nation delegation, including Prince Roan.”

Abby stepped forward as the Sentries stepped forward, forcing the Ice Nation delegation to their knees before they dragged them from the room.

“We need to get home. If they attacked Mount Weather, Arkadia could be next.”

“I agree.”

Lexa nodded, looking at Kane and Abby.

“Go, marshall your forces. We’ll avenge the attack together.”

Indra stepped forward, nodding at Lexa.

“I’ll escort them.”

Bellamy looked over at Clarke, nodding slightly.

“Clarke, we need to leave, now.”

“We need an ambassador from the 13th Clan to stay here in Polis.”

“It’s not safe here.”

You turned, looking at Bellamy, nodding.

“Clarke will be safe here under our protection.”

Lexa stepped forward, placing her hand on your arm as she nodded at Bellamy.

“She will be safe under my protection, you have my word.”

You shot Lexa a look, looking over at her.

“Ours.”

“Mine. You’re going with Skaikru.”

You shook your head, turning towards Lexa.

“I am needed here. We are at war. I am the commander of your armies.”

“I need you there.”

“Lexa-”

Lexa shook her head, standing to her full height, a slight glare in her eyes as she spoke.

“That is an order.”

Your jaw ticked as you nodded once, your gaze lowered.

“Gon bilaik hedplei, Heda.” (at your command, commander)

You stepped forward, lifting the side of your dress up from the ground as you looked at Bellamy.

“I will ride out and meet you and your party in ten minutes, do not wait for me.”

Without sparing anyone a second glance, you walked out of the room, catching Bellamy telling Clarke to come home to her people.

🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘

When you saw those of Skaikru who couldn’t ride in their Rover, you slowed your horse down. You weren’t particularly in a hurry to join them, still upset over Lexa commanding you to join Skaikru.

“Hey.”

You startled slightly, spaced out, seeing Bellamy walking next to your horse, causing you to raise a brow as you glanced down at him.

“Bellamy. Surely you were offered a horse. You did not wish to ride?”

Bellamy shook his head.

“After what’s happened, I’d rather walk.”

You hummed, guiding your horse to stop, Bellamy making a face as you got off your horse, leading him by his reins as you nodded at Bellamy.

“Come. We shall walk.” 

“Riheda, you don't have to-" 

“Consider it payback, for walking with me in your camp." 

Bellamy grinned slightly.

“I wouldn't call that walking. We only ever walked medical in circles." 

“Then next time you shall have to take me on another walk and show me something that isn't metal and cold.”

"I guess I will." 

Bellamy grinned, turning towards you, walking backwards, his head cocked to the side.

“Unless of course, this counts." 

You laughed softly, shaking your head.

“No. I'm afraid this doesn't count as we are not alone and I know this path like the back of my hand. I could walk it with my eyes closed." 

🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘

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[sailorstar9]

So, this is my Part Two of this: https://www.tumblr.com/sailorstar9/766356285336764416/as-fate-has-it

A/N: Implied off-screen meeting between Neuvillette and F/N.

Warning: Dialogue taken from the 'Hustle and Bustle' Event during this year's Lantern Rite Event

Five thousand and five hundred years later, at the Rite of Descension...

“The hour is upon us..” Ningguang stepped up. Summoning her Geo crystals, she sent them into the large censor in the middle of the offering table. A continuous beam of Geo energy shot up into the skies, summoning Rex Lapis' Exuvia from a tornado of clouds.

Suddenly, said Geo dragon fell down from the skies, slumped over the offering table.

“Rex Lapis has been killed!” Ningguang barked out orders. “Seal the exits!”

“Quite a bit of dramatics, aren't you Morax?”F/N teleported beside Zhongli who was viewing the spectacle from Mt. Tianheng. “The others' reactions would be... rather interesting. Tea?” she offered, pouring out Chenyu Brew from an enchanted tea pot.

“You do not seem surprised.” Zhongli took the offered tea cup.

“You are not one to do something like this with no reason.” F/N stated matter-of-factly.

“The time of the Adepti is ending, and the time of mankind is slowly dawning.,” Zhongli reminisced.

“Is this the reason for your decision?” F/N questioned.

“Perhaps.” Zhongli answered.

“Well then, I suppose I should pay Streetward Ramble a visit since I'm here.” F/N dusted herself off. Turning into her phoenix form, she flew off.

“is this the result you desired, Rex Lapis?” F/N asked the 'retired' Geo Archon.

“I decided that a test was needed in order to determine if us, the Adepti, is ready to leave the leadership of Liyue to its people.” Zhongli explained. “I am very satisfied with the end result. The Gnosis I had kept for so many years suddenly seemed to have lost its meaning.”

“Now, this makes me wonder what the Tsaritsa's plan entails.” F/N pondered.

In Qiaoying Village after the main Lantern Rite festive...

Shortly after arriving in Qiaoying Village, the Traveller heard a familiar yet distinct voice yelling from the slopes of tea plants.

“What are they doing here!?” Paimon exclaimed, spotting Navia and Clorinde. “Navia! Clorinde!”

“Well if it isn't my dear partners!” Navia turned. “Are you guys also here to catch the festivities? Oh, and that reminds me, Happy Lantern Rite!”

“Happy Lantern Rite.” Clorinde nodded.

“Happy Lantern Rite to you too!” Paimon responded. “ Wait, if you're here for Lantern Rite, then what are you doing on top of this deserted mountain?”

“That's just what mountain climbers do, right?” Navia asked. “After all the hard work it takes to make it to the top, as you stand on the summit looking out at the vast scenery, it's not easy to resist the urge to release those emotions. Anyway, why don't you two give it a try? Shout anything you want. It's a real stress reliever!”

“As long as Paimon has clothes on her back and food in her belly, Paimon doesn't think there's any stress that needs relieving.” Paimon stammered.

“No need to be shy!” Navia encouraged. “Even Furina was shouting from the top of this mountain earlier.”

“Furina's also here in Qiaoying Village?” Paimon was surprised. “Seems like you caught her in the middle of some stress relief as well.”

“Was she alone?” the Traveller inquired.

“I think so?” Navia gave Clorinde a look. “We ran into Neuvillette on the way here as well, but he was already on his way back and he had a lady in red with him, so they probably weren't together.”

“Neuvillette was here too?” Paimon gaped. “What was he doing here? It couldn't have been for vacation.”

“I think it just might have been, actually.” Navia related. “But apparently, he only stayed for half a day before heading back. He's a very busy man. Didn't Charlotte publish an article on the Liyue tea industry recently? Maybe he was inspired to come buy some tea after reading that article. You know, just like you were!”

“My situation is completely different.” Clorinde defended. “I'm here because I was asked to accompany you. The tea purchase is simply an added bonus of this location; I lost a bet with Wriothesley, and now I have to buy him something.”

“That reminds me.” Navia recalled. “You guys said you only came up here because you heard my voice, right? I hope it didn't put you out — you must have other plans for the day?”

“Paimon's not seeing things, is she?” Paimon instantly noticed the trio. “Is that Furina standing between Zhongli and Hu Tao? Good afternoon, Hu Tao, Zhongli, and Furina!!” she called out.

“Aren't you a sight for sore eyes!” Hu Tao grinned. “Seems like our luck just keeps on growing!”

“That we were able to meet you both without prior arrangement must mean that this is quite the serendipitous meeting indeed.” Zhongli agreed.

“So both of you are acquainted with Traveller and Paimon then.” Furina was surprised. “ I must admit, I'm a bit surprised to see you here, Traveller. But seeing as you're a hero who's been all over Teyvat, it makes sense that you would be well-travelled and well-connected. Since we have found ourselves in each other's company within this fertile land, allow me to take this opportunity to wish you a happy Lantern Rite.”

“Happy Lantern Rite!” the Traveller responded.

“It appears you have been to Fontaine then.” Zhongli noted. “Given your proclivity to spread good deeds wherever you go, it's no surprise that you would make the acquaintance of a celebrity as illustrious and celebrated as Miss Furina.”

“That's quite high praise.” Furina blushed. “Although I've built up a certain following within Fontaine, it is no reflection of strength or wisdom. I stand before you right now as nothing more than an ordinary traveller in search of beautiful scenery and creative inspiration.”

“Aiya, you're no common tourist.” Hu Tao chided. “I simply won't have you talk about yourself that way. You may not have heard, friends, but Miss Furina is now one of my esteemed clients!”

“Did, uh, something... happen recently, Furina?” Paimon asked worriedly.

“What do you mean?” Furina was puzzled.

“You know, with you enlisting the services of Wangsheng Funeral Parlour and all...” Paimon prompted.

“Miss Hu Tao is simply helping prepare some props for my film.” Furina explained. “Not too long ago, I read a collection of horror stories from Liyue. The content was spectacular. Now that Fontaine's biggest star has returned to the stage, I figured it's about time the industry enjoyed a breath of fresh air!”

“Paimon sees!” Paimon nodded. “That makes a lot of sense. So did you come to Liyue just to enlist the services of Wangsheng Funeral Parlour?”

“Not exactly...” Furina admitted. “My original plan was to just relax and enjoy the sights. But then I ran into Miss Hu Tao and Mr. Zhongli, and well, you know the rest. I suppose it was meant to be.”

“It was a fated meeting indeed.” Zhongli agreed.

“Zhongli sure loves his lofty turns of phrase.” Hu Tao remarked. “But if you ask me, it's all thanks to that man who stopped to ask for directions.”

“Who was it?” Paimon was intrigued.

“It's someone you know.” Furina sang. “Wanna take a guess?”

“It was Neuvillette, wasn't it?” the Traveller wasted no time in answering, before recounting their meeting with Navia and Clorinde.

“Paimon never thought Neuvillette would be the type to get lost.” Paimon noted.

“I'm sure he didn't get lost.” Furina assured. “Even I was able to find my way to this place without any trouble. He was already getting ready to leave by the time I arrived. He just wanted to ask someone about the quickest way to get back to Fontaine.”

“Speaking of your friend,” Hu Tao started. “He doesn't get out much, does he?”

“No, he doesn't.” the Traveller confirmed.

“No wonder!” Hu Tao nodded. “He was stiff as a board and way too polite... I would have never guess he was here on vacation if you hadn't told me.”

“All in all, he was only here for half a day.” Furina related. “I'm pretty sure he's the only one who would consider that to be a vacation.”

“This gentleman you speak of must keep a demanding schedule.” Zhongli noted.

“I'm sure he does.” Hu Tao mused. “You didn't see him, but he was dressed like he was about to attend some important meeting. It wasn't anything like what someone would wear on vacation.”

“Is that so...” Zhongli pondered.

“You didn't see him, Zhongli?” Paimon was puzzled.

“Unfortunately, no.” Zhongli responded. “At the time, it appeared as if Director Hu and Miss Furina were having quite the productive conversation. I know matters of business can take much discussion, so I decided to fetch some tea for them.”

“ What a shame.” Hu Tao tsked. “That gentleman seemed like a sophisticated sort of guy. I actually think you two would have hit it off!”

“Is that so?” Zhongli cast his superior a sceptical look.

“That reminds me.” Furina recalled. “If you get the chance, you should try and talk Neuvillette into loosening up a bit. Just tell him the Palais Mermonia isn't going to fall apart if he disappears for a few days. He shouldn't keep himself cooped up all the time. If he's really that much of a stickler for protocol, he can fill out a leave of absence request. He'd have to approve it himself since he handles that sort of thing now, but you know what I mean.”

After biding everyone farewell...

The Traveller found Neuvillette at the Erinnyes entrance to the Fortress of Meropide.

“It's you.”the Hydro Dragon Sovereign spotted his visitors. “It has been some time since our last meeting. Few people frequent this location. Since I was able to conclude my work early for the day, I thought I might take a walk and avail myself of this area's peace and quiet.”

“You call this early...?” Paimon exclaimed. “Do you always work this late, Neuvillette?”

“Strictly speaking, that depends on the agenda for the day.” Neuvillette reasoned. “ I am hardly bereft of time, however, so working late is of little consequence to me.”

“If you have so much time on your hands, then why did you only go to Qiaoying Village for half a day?” Paimon was confused.

“First, I should clarify that I was referring to my lifespan rather than the time at my disposal on any given day.” Neuvillette explained. “Second, I was unaware you possessed knowledge of my trip to Qiaoying Village. I see.” he nodded after the Traveller gave him a brief rundown. “Thank you for informing me.” he then related his meeting with Wriothesley.

“So that's what you were doing in Qiaoying Village!” Paimon realized.

“Indeed.” Neuvillette nodded. “Of course, while I was there, I also took the opportunity to taste the local spring water. The aftertaste is much purer than what I have delivered to me in Fontaine. It stands to reason that the long-distance transport has a tendency to imbue the water with extraneous emotion.I f you want to experience the true flavour, you simply have to go the source. Perhaps I should organize some time off to do the same elsewhere.”

“You know you don't have to justify a vacation, right?” Paimon pointed out. “You can just take one. After all, you're hardly 'bereft of time'. You can do whatever you want.”

“You're quite right.” Neuvillette conceded. “I suppose I suffer not from a lack of opportunity but rather a lack of inspiration. However, after reading a few articles about Liyue's holiday traditions, the idea popped into my head and made itself quite at home. Seeing as I was free of responsibilities for the morning, I decided to depart at once.”

“ And how was it?” the Traveller prompted.

“Refreshing. And rather... intriguing.” Neuvillette admitted. “My spontaneous outing seemed to inspire quite a few other spontaneous decisions as well. Take, for example, my foray into ceramics. At first, soil from the ground is granular and unforgiving, but add the right amount of water, and it becomes soft, moldable, and able to take shape. In the past, I never thought about how quotidian vessels were crafted. But now, I have participated in their very making and met with a very amiable young lady in the process...” he let out a wistful smile. “This is also something I made today.” he recollected himself and took out a blue ladle he crafted.

“That reminds me.” the Traveller then proceeded to convey Furina's request.

“Approve a leave of absence request for myself...” Neuvillette pondered. “That sounds like it could easily lead to a vicious cycle of self-indulgence, something which couldn't be in further violation of protocol. But, I suppose I understand her point. My proclivity to refrain from personal outings does, in part, originate from a sense of responsibility toward my duties. But it is also due to a lack of desire to engage in the human world.” he produced the enchanted red feather his new female acquaintance had gifted him. “But now I see that the human world is indeed full of many interesting places to discover.”

“Is that...” the Traveller breathed in astonishment.

“A feather from the Phoenix Queen herself?” Paimon exclaimed.

“Oh?” Neuvillette raised an eyebrow.

“We never met her.” the Traveller explained. "We only heard of her from Xiao; she's the leader of all the bird Adepti Clans. Mountain Shaper explained bird Adepti feathers are special, especially those imbued with their powers. And for someone like her to give you one of her feathers as a parting gift... you must have made an exceptional impression on her, Neuvillette.”

[auraeseer]

Post . . . when it dies.

[vivs-fics]

Just As It Is

Bucky Barnes x Reader

College AU

No minors allowed. Read at your own discretion.

TW: Swearing, religious imagery, smoking, mention of underage drinking

Part 1

Dark clouds linger overhead, far too close for comfort. A twinge in the air and rain birds circling the sky makes unease swell in the pit of my stomach. A storm is brewing, something dark this way comes- and here I am walking down the street with no jacket, no umbrella and Bucky’s place nowhere in sight.

I quicken my pace. Shoes stomping heavily on the asphalt, desperate to outrun the impending shower- to no avail. Thunder claps, electricity crackles, the birds make their descent in the sky behind me and the floodgates of the dreaded downpour open. I feel the rain spilling through my hair, the chill crawling down my spine and soaking my clothes. I wish more than anything just to be inside, warm and in good company.

The D&D campaign tonight is one I’ve been looking forward to for weeks. Bucky let me in on a few minor details now and again. This story was meant to be his most enticing yet, described by the man himself as “a fuckin’ mind-blowing maelstrom of malice, monsters and murder.” He added that the alliteration was meant to captivate and create anticipation- fucking English majors.

I have a feeling we’ll be trekking through some haunted castle, infested by a lonesome vampire luring innocents into his clutches. I recall when the theory solidified for me, it was just a few days ago- after classes had ended for the semester. Bucky and I were meeting up on the benches on the edge of campus for our afternoon chit-chat and I convinced him to act out a snippet from the forthcoming adventure.

Bucky slinked behind me, fallen auburn leaves crunched under his boots and the chains on his pants clinked together- I held my breath as he brushed his fingers over the side of my neck. The touch was light, almost untactile- nevertheless my skin felt like it was lit ablaze. The flames spread, embers sizzled deep in my stomach, the red blaze surged through my arms, and it settled in the tips of my fingers.

Blood rushed to my ears and my heart pounded against my chest, I could feel his breath on my neck. “Are you scared, little bird? Or do the pleasures of the night entice you? Are you willing to take this journey and receive your hearts desires, or do you fear the lurking horrors may consume you before you reach the summit?” Bucky whispered. A shuddering breath escaped my lips, and I took a moment to compose myself, a shoddily concealed smile on my face, “Jamie is the whole campaign going to be voiced in that sultry, bad guy accent?”               

He beamed, “I guess you’ll have to wait and see, sweetheart. You should, however, expect to be wowed beyond your wildest dreams.” He raised his right hand and touched it to his heart, “That’s your beloved dungeon master’s guarantee.”

He sat himself down on the bench next to me, the wood creaked under his weight, and I brought my eyes up to him- I found myself lost in the vast blue of his eyes.  

God, he’s beautiful. Gazing upon the pastels of a rococo could not compare to him. The glittering of all Klimt’s work would never be able to culminate to the way he shines, my Bucky glows from the inside. The light in his eyes are millions of stars burning in the sky, had Van Gogh’s masterpiece been done today, surely Vincent would have drawn inspiration from them. The figures taken out of stone by the great Michelangelo wouldn’t amount to the statuesque beauty I see in him, skin smoother than marble and a face that could have only been carved by the divine.

 “You alright, Birdie? Somethin’ on your mind?” His voice was smoother than honey, it dripped from his lips slowly and it covered me in its splendour. I shook my head. I couldn’t tell him. I wouldn’t allow myself to say just how much he means to me. I couldn’t risk ruining years of friendship and muddying the dynamic we have. We’re in tandem, parallel lines that are destined to run beside each other for as long as the universe allows.

“What’s up with the ‘Birdie’ thing, Buck? Were you inspired by my beady eyes or the way I flew down from the trees to see you today?” I jested in the hope it would cover up the black hole that would in the pit of my stomach.

His eyes drifted down, and his ring-clad hand pulled a fallen leaf fragment from my sweater. Bucky shrugged, “I don’t know, it was in my dialogue for the campaign. I thought I’d run with it, it’s cute. It suits you.” He leaned back, palms flat on the dark wood of the bench. He tilted his head back and flashed me a bashful smile.

I look toward him in earnest, and he continues his ramble, “No, actually, it’s stupid. Sorry, sweetheart.”

He shook his head, the beautiful cascade of brown hair framed his face and I retorted, “No, no. I was joking Jamie, I do like it. It’s just different, is all. You had me thinking someone usurped my title of your cherished sweetheart. I was just brainstorming my plan of action- you know- setting my targets and ensuring I could retrieve the name that’s rightfully mine.”

He sat up and rubbed his hands down the length of my arms, a comforting gesture. A reassuring one. Hands caressed me like the singed spine of a book salvaged from the fires of Alexandria- as if I were a priceless artefact not to be handled precariously. “Nobody could steal that from you, Birdie. And if you catch me callin’ anyone other than you, sweetheart, know that I’ve been body snatched and you need to come save me.”

 A laugh escaped me, he knows just how to make me feel safe when I’m with him, in every capacity. Bucky wrapped himself around me, encompassing me in the warmth that melts the welts of my worries. It’ll be fine, I thought to myself. I can do this. Right?

Rain beating down on me like the mighty wrath of Zeus hauls me out of the fond memory and pushes me back into my very cold, very wet reality. In the distance I can see the living room light turn on in Bucky’s home, the exterior of it seemingly harsh and bitter but it’s filled with more love and acceptance than I’ve experienced elsewhere. The wind whistles riotously as I bang on the door, “Jamie! I’m getting hypothermia out here! Can you open the fucking door please?”

He emerges, brows furrowed, “Birdie, what are you doin’ here? The campaign isn’t for another hour,” Realising that I look like a drowned subway rat he ushers me inside, “Shit, sorry! Come on in sweetheart, uh- let’s get you dry.”

“Thank you, Jamie, truly. Really glad you didn’t decide to leave me outside to die.” I shiver out. He looks at me apologetically. Jesus those eyes. He could get away with murder with those eyes. He could glance at St. Peter at heaven’s gates and Bucky would be admonished of all his sins. He’d be allowed in and be given the best resting place Heaven has to offer without so much as a word. They’re soft, an endless Mediterranean blue- so captivating it would rival Narcissus and his reflection.

He disappears for a moment and emerges with a dry article of clothing. Bucky extends his hand to me, the soft grey fabric now within my reach.

 “Here sweetheart, fresh shirt. You can go to the bathroom and change if you want. I’d offer my room but… truth be told, it’s a mess and I’d be embarrassed if you saw how I really lived.” He ducks his head and rubs the back of his neck sheepishly.  “I- uh- I can also grab a sweater for ya, if you’re still cold.” He adds, with a smile.

“Thanks, Buck.” A small grin graces my features, the cold that clung to me dissipates in the confines of his kindness. “My god, the Zeppelin shirt?” I clutch it to my chest and gasp dramatically. “Maybe I should walk to you in the rain more often, I don’t get this five-star treatment all the time.”

“Hush, sweetheart. You know I’d give you anything if you asked.” He retorts, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

After changing into something significantly more comfortable than the soaked fabric that clung to my skin, I return to the living room to find my knight in shining armour lighting a cigarette on the back porch. He turns to look at me and inhales, “You feelin’ better now?”

“Much,” I move to sit beside him on the battered porch swing, and tilt my body towards him, “Can I have a puff, Bucky? Light of my life, saviour of my world?” He smiles and puts the orange filter up to my lips, I breathe in. Letting the nicotine fill my lungs, I feel the menthol spread across my body, it tingles down my arms and a calm settles over me. 

“You want one for yourself sweetheart, or would you prefer to smoke half of mine like always?” He cocks his head to the side and smiles.

“I’m fine with our arrangement just the way it is, Jamie.” I shift over and place my head on his shoulder. He kisses the top of head, a familiar gesture. For him it was a sign of reassurance, as if he was saying: ‘you’re going to be okay as long as I’m here.’

“Why’d you decide to come here so early, Birdie? You miss me that much?”

“Don’t flatter yourself James, I just needed a smoke.” Taking a long drag of the cigarette, I close my eyes- happy to finally be where I needed to be.

He hums in acknowledgement. “Of course, sweetheart.”

“You want me to help you set up?” I enquire and he shakes his head.

“Nope. I got it all sorted out, you can just sit and look pretty.” He places his thumb and index finger onto my chin and squeezes, his nose scrunches up and a smile graces his face. “Although, that shouldn’t be a problem for you sweetheart.”

“Are you calling me lazy, Barnes?”

“I’m callin’ you beautiful, Birdie.” He says simply, the words roll off his tongue with no more effort than a breath.

 What I wouldn’t do for him to always look at me like this, with those azure eyes full of contentment. They’re warmer than the embrace of a summer’s day, than the encapsulating feel of steamy water in the bathtub, than a balmy breeze whispering past me on the beach.

“Oh, uh, Buck? I got you a little something.”

“What? You didn’t have to do that, sweetheart. You should know that you bein’ here is a gift in and of itself.”

A smile makes its way on to my face, and I chuckle, “Sure, but this is something that you absolutely need,” Sifting through the contents of my bag, I find it. A small black box with a glittery red bow on the top, “Here. Open it.”

With the unveiling of the contents of the box, Bucky’s face lights up- like a Christmas tree on December 25th.                                                                 “No fuckin’ way, sweetheart.” He shakes my shoulders excitedly and promptly goes back to admiring his new possession, running his fingers over the cold metal links, “Holy shit, this is so cool. A fuckin’ chainmail pouch? Is this for my dice?”

“Yes! You can keep them all together now, I know they always end up in weird places after campaigns so I thought this could help.”

“Thank you, Birdie. This is amazing.” He laughs.

What an angelic sound- comparable only to the trumpets of heaven or the symphonies of a divine orchestra. He wraps his arms around me and squeezes, “I love it.”

I turn to face him, bending my leg up on the worn porch swing, the wood is soft under my skin, such a familiar feeling- upon which so many memories were made. Bucky moves closer to me, an indistinguishable look in his eyes. My breath halts, it feels as if my lungs were dipped in iron. My insides are hot and there’s a fluttering in my stomach. Why’s he staring at me like that? Am I melting? It feels like I’m melting. Come on, get a hold of yourself. It’s just Bucky, looking at you the way he always does.

A small smile graces his face, the edges of his lips lifting ever so slightly and the corners of his eyes crinkling up. He tilts his head to the side and places his hand on my cheek, his thumb shifting up and down so gently I almost don’t notice. I wonder if this is how people experience religious euphoria. Is this how it feels to be touched by the hand of God? Could the promise eternal peace be held within the fingers that are caressing my face? Is it possible that the divine culminated in this Adonis of a man?

An abrupt knocking at the door startles me and Bucky recoils, “Let me, uh, I- I’ll get it.”

“Bucky, open up already!” A woeful gust of wind screeches outside the door. “Jesus Christ, Barnes, I’m gonna grow old and rot before you let us in!” Sam yells, announcing his presence.

“Alright, alright! I’m comin’.” Bucky shuffles to the door, a twinge of annoyance laced in his tone. His demeanour, however, shifts when the boys come inside. He’s happy to see them, he always is. I am too, they’re some of my best friends. I won’t lie to myself though; I would have appreciated them arriving just a few minutes later- if for no reason other than quelling the sheer curiosity about what was going to happen.

“If it took you any longer, Buck, I would have assumed you were dead.” After hugging him, Steve sets down his bag and greets me, “Y/N, Hey! It’s so good to see you. We didn’t interrupt anything did we?” He raises his eyebrows suggestively.

“No, no, Stevie- you’re all good. I missed you.” I ruffle his hair when he comes over for a hug, my actions are met with a disgruntled groan from the six-foot-three puppy of a man.

Nat pulls up behind me and I embrace her excitedly, “Nat, baby! How have you been? How’s your girl?” She slinks her arm around my neck and in return I put my arm around her waist.

“We’re alright, hon. Why? Have you reconsidered our request for a threesome?”

“Aw, Natasha don’t flatter yourself. We agreed to do it without you, obviously.” I give her a light pat on the back and turn away, going to greet Sam.

The rest of the group starts filtering in after a bit, Steve and Thor creating their usual ruckus.

“Alright sinners, are we ready for the campaign of the century?” Bucky announces, as he stands at the head of the table- a king ready to lead his troops into battle. A Greek god, blessing his subjects with the greatest gift- a myth, a legend, a story to be passed down ear-to-mouth and mouth-to-ear for generations to come. And we, his loyal subjects listening in earnest, hanging onto every vowel, every consonant as if it were our life force- sustaining us. His words igniting a bonfire to provide light and warmth as we make our way through this ominous cascade of casting spells, battling beasts and me trying not to visibly sweat because of that sultry voice Bucky is speaking in.  Anxieties fly high as the six-hour campaign draws to a close.

“Xanaphia of Excelsior, you have travelled a distance incomparable to any other, you have seen nations built and destroyed, you have brazened the path to my home- a journey no man before you had been able to conquer. A path, little bird, no man should be able to survive.” Bucky narrates, his character so carved out and precise I almost don’t recognise him.

“Luckily for me, Alaric... I am no man.” I smile up at Bucky, he reciprocates- a genuine beam shines upon my face. I knew the Lord of the Rings reference would get to him. The rest of the room melts away, the cries of Sam telling me to finish the job and Scott excitedly banging his fists on the table become nothing but distant memories. Bucky stands, in all his glory- broad shoulders block the light behind him and a halo encompasses the edges of his physique. Is he an angel, or just the devil in ambient lighting? With his eyes piercing into mine like they are, I don’t think I could bring myself to care.

“No man indeed.” A corner of his mouth turns up, a devious smirk creeps onto his face. “So, little bird. What shall it be? I am completely at your mercy. You have me on my knees.”

 Everyone perches on the edge of their seats at the final roll of the D20, the last dance between my character and the Vampire at the top the Hill approaches. To stab or to seduce, that is the question. Will I succumb to the pleasures of the night or fight my desires and kill him for my brethren, currently surrounded by ghouls? I should kiss him, right? A move to seduce could ensure that the Vampire lets the surviving members of my party go, whereas a move to kill him could result in everyone being murdered. This is purely a selfless choice.

“I’ll roll for charisma. I want to kiss you- him! Ahem- Alaric.” Heat rises in my cheeks and a pit forms in my stomach. Oh, my God.

 A hush falls over the room, the booming of the dice upon the table is all that can be heard, save for the thudding of my heart that pounds in my ears. The resin contraption stills, and Bucky leans over to inspect what the gods have decided my fate shall be.

“A… a fuckin’ nat’ twenty.” He says in bewilderment, his voice barely above a whisper. And the crowd goes wild- jests and jeers come from all around the table.

“Alaric of the Hill concedes! Your kiss has bewitched him, congratulations. He decides to let your party go on the condition that you keep him company. Will you, Xanaphia, stay with Alaric and forgo all other quests?”

“Fuck yes.” I state triumphantly, relieved as all heaven that the risk I took paid off.

Celebratory drinks are raised, and toasts are made in my honour- to Xanaphia of Excelsior, she who could warm the heart of even the most cold-blooded of creatures.

 Bucky gets the music going and Thor pours the drinks, perhaps the most dangerous of combinations. Bodies push against each other, the sounds of Def Leppard’s Pour Some Sugar on Me intertwine with the heavy breathing of the people in the room, dim lighting overhead makes for a danse macabre-esque sequence to play out around me. We are neither here, nor there. Dead, nor living. Could this be a man in front of me, or an angel? Deep shadows are carved under his cheekbones and his jaw is sharp under this light, threads of walnut hair are strewn across his face, moving with him to the music.

Rhythm flows through me, I lift my arms up close my eyes in sheer delight- being here with these people is all I could ask for.

Bucky is beckoned over to the kitchen and upon arrival, he laughs boisterously at something Sam says. Steve claps his shoulder and throws his head back as he always does when someone makes a stupid joke. I wonder if he knows that he lights up the room the way he does, if he has any idea of the fact that he could put the Nevada sun to shame, that all the bonfires in the world couldn’t amount to the warmth he brings to a room.

Well, perhaps this exact situation is not all I could ask for, but it will do just fine.

As the song reaches its summit Nat approaches me with an inebriated smile on her face, she reaches her hands out to me and interlocks her fingers with mine.

“Hey pretty girl, you havin’ fun?” the red head exclaims, her voice barely swimming above the music. We move together to the rhythm of the song; I sway my hips and look around the room, to find Bucky over by the counter, pouring himself another drink.

My eyes shift back to Nat, and I smile, “Of course, babe! It’s always a good time when you’re here.”

She lifts my hand and spins me before resuming our prior position. She raises a quizzical brow, “You sure, hon? Because you keep looking over in that direction.” Nat tilts her head towards Bucky. Of course she’d know. She’s like a bloodhound when it comes to people’s feelings, sniffing out the source for minor ticks in their facial muscles, every dilation of their pupils and apparently each longing stare in their direction. “Y/N, do you have something to tell me?”

I shake my head, grimacing slightly, “Don’t worry about it, babe. It’s fine.”

“No, uh-uh. Come on.” Nat takes my hand and pulls me through the room and to the restroom. She points at the clawfoot tub, “Sit. Tell me what’s going on.”

“Nat, I really don’t want to talk about it right now.” I turn my gaze from her, mortified at the prospect of having to spill my feelings.

“Baby, if you like Bucky it’s nothing to be ashamed of. I’ve suspected it for a while now.”

“How the fuck did you know? I thought I was good at hiding it, Nat.”

“Freshman year, orientation mixer. Do you remember that Y/N? Because I do. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you that drunk. You vomited into a flower pot- really not a good look for you, baby. Bucky showed up in that black leather jacket and you physically faltered when you saw him. I had to hold you up for the better part of five minutes because your legs, and I quote, ‘couldn’t possibly stay solid with how fucking hot he looked.’”

“Oh my God!” I exclaim and put my head in my hands, “I have to dig a hole and hide away in it forever. Nat- that’s fucking awful. You never told me!”

“I assumed you’d bring it up when you wanted to talk about it,” She shrugs, as if she hadn’t just unearthed the one dirty little skeleton I would have liked to keep buried, “And you never did, hon. But it’s been years and you’re clearly still enamoured with him, and I feel like I’m entitled to a little bit of an explanation.” She takes a seat on the cold porcelain next to me, a half-smile decorates her face.

“Okay- you’re right and I’m sorry for not telling you before. I just couldn’t- I didn’t want to make it real. You know? Because if I admitted that he’s on my mind constantly and that he’s the only person I’ve really, truly wanted for fucking years, and that he makes me feel seen and heard and cared for in a way I never thought was possible- then there was a possibility of all that going away.” An exhale escapes me, and I look away from Nat- who seems less flabbergasted at this admission than I’d expect.

She places a supportive hand on my shoulder, “Baby- you know that man loves you, right? You’re his best friend, he’d never let you go like tha-”

“I know, I know.” I interject. “He’s my best friend too- but if it ever came up that I wanted more than what we had right now and he didn’t want that, then everything would fall apart. And you know that, Nat. Everything is perfect the way it is. I wouldn’t want to jeopardize it for anything, not even for my own feelings.” It’s a lie, deep down I know there will always be a part of me yearning, wanting, needing something just out of reach.

 Perhaps it is a sacrifice I’d be willing to make. I could be the slaughtered lamb on a pyre, if it meant Bucky would be happy, if it meant he could get love and support and care from me and everyone around him, without me fucking everything up.

We’ve all been together since freshman year, some of us before that. We’re a family. For me to toss it aside in favor of this childish crush, it would be selfish. It would be building your home and setting it on fire, pushing a boulder up a hill just to push it down the same way, it would be Icarus flying into the sun and dying a horrible, fiery death.

“Hon, I love you but you’re really fuckin’ stupid sometimes.” Nat shakes her head with a small laugh.

“Stop it, Nat. I mean it. He’s never said anything about that- us, you know in that way- and… And he was dating that girl a couple months ago- what was her name? Jo-Ann?” I retort quickly, attempting to repress the feelings that arise from her steadfast argument.

“And do you remember when that ended? Less than two days after you and that asshole you were seeing broke up.” She bumps her shoulder against mine to drive her point forward. My eyebrows knit together at that, she’s not wrong. Technically.

“We all knew that was never going to last. She was so mean and self-involved. I mean- I know I can also be those things… and there’s nothing wrong with being a little bitchy and vain but at least when I do it, it’s classy and everyone loves it.” I jest in an attempt to shift her focus away from Bucky and I, but to no avail.

“Come on, hon. We all know why it didn’t work out. The real reason why.”

“Oh yeah, Nat?” I tilt my head to the side curiously. Music bleeds through the vacant space under the door and I can hear Sam singing along to the song, loudly and off key. It makes me smile. “And what is the real reason?”

“Because she wasn’t you.” She lays it out plainly. Her shoulders shrug in an almost exaggerated display of nonchalance.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Natasha. There- there’s no way.” My voice comes out a bit more strained than anticipated and I stand up from my seat on the bathtub.

“Fine, since you clearly don’t want to listen to reason... I’ll drop it for now, but you’ve got to understand that I meant everything I said. We can all see how head over heels he is for you, baby. You just- maybe you should talk to him about it.” She follows my lead in standing up- there’s an air of finality in her voice and I know our conversation is over.

I take the quick reprieve as Nat leaves the restroom to collect my thoughts. If the alcohol in my system didn’t make the room sway slightly, the revelations that Nat unleashed on me certainly did. I rest my hands on either side of the cool, white basin and look at myself in the mirror that stands proudly on the wall. Good god, pull yourself together. An abrupt knock on the door interrupts my much-needed mirror reflection time. “Occupied!” I yell out in the general direction of the door. For fucks sake, I can’t even get a moment of silence to think.

“Sweetheart? You alright in there?” Bucky’s voice sifts through the door and caresses my ears. His tone so soft, so full of warmth and concern- it makes my heart clench in my chest.

“Yeah, just give me a second.” I smooth down my shirt that had crumpled and gathered in the worst possible way as Natasha berated me about my lack of perception and emotional intelligence while we balanced on the edge of the bathtub.

“Can I come in?” He asks, almost tentatively- or at least as tentative as James Buchanan Barnes could sound. I quickly move to unlock the door and I let him in. His hair is slightly damp from what I assume could only be vigorous beer pong playing or dancing drunkenly to the music. Either way, I’m thankful for it. It's hot.

There’s a slight dusting of red along his cheeks, it is amplified as he gives me a lazy smile. “You alright, Birdie? Do I need to be concerned as to why you’re hiding out in the bathroom when you could be dancing or singing or losing to me at beer pong?”

“In your fuckin’ dreams, Jamie. Do I have to remind you about Thor’s Halloween beer pong tournament?” I raise my eyebrows in challenge and step closer to him, my arms folded across my chest.

Bucky lets out an exaggerated scoff, “That was beginner’s luck on your side. Had to be, sweetheart.” He follows suit and takes a small step toward me.

“Beginner’s luck? Three games in a row? I don’t think so, pretty boy.”

He smiles at me, his eyes searching my face. “Pretty boy, huh? That’s new.”

“Don’t change the subject, Barnes. I could beat you blindfolded, with one hand tied behind my back.” Smugness drips off my words and Bucky’s gaze darkens.

“You want to bet, little bird?” He towers over me now, arms on either side of the basin, confining me between him and the cold tile.

“Sure, why not? There’s no way you’d win anyways.” A deceptively sweet smile is plastered on my face in a challenge to him. My heart thumps loudly in my chest. I feel the blood rushing to my ears and butterflies erupt in my stomach. He’s so beautiful, it’s nearly impossible to stop myself from thinking about how much I’d like him to grab my face and kiss me.  

“State your terms, sweetheart.” He backs up and folds his arms over each other across his chest.

“One round, first one to no cups wins. We can have one redemption shot each. And when I win… Hmm…” I tap my finger against my lips in contemplation for a moment, “When I win, you have to let me drive your car.”

His eyes widen slightly, and his lips move to form a small ‘o’ shape. “Sweetheart, you- you can’t possibly be serious. I don’t even let Steve drive my car.”

“I’m deadly serious. I’ve had my eye on it for a while now, to be quite honest. I would love to drive her down to the coast… Put the top down, play some trashy pop music on the speakers…” I taunt, my voice low and melodic.

“I…” He starts, but I cut him off before he can argue.

“Unless you’re chicken, that is. You scared, Jamie? Shaking in your boots over your inevitable, devastating loss?”

“No- I mean-” He takes a breath in and lifts his hands in surrender, “Fine. Fine. If you win, you can drive the car down to the beachfront. But I’m ridin’ shotgun.”

“I expected nothing less. It’ll be fun- we’ll make a day of it.” I say with a smile, my eyes light up at that prospect.

“You don’t want to know what I get if I win?” He pivots.

“Nope. Don’t need to. Because it’ll never happen. Come on, let’s play.” I tilt my head in the direction of the door and smirk at him with as much cheek as I could muster.

Bucky grabs my hand, returning the smile. He stops for a moment and stares at me, that same indecipherable look in his eyes from earlier. Our fingers are interlaced, one continuous string moves in between him and I.

It felt as if I’d be able to hear a pin drop, despite the hustle and bustle of the party raging on outside. I move to grab the door handle and exit the restroom when I feel him pull me back towards him. He grips my hand and pulls me flush against his chest.

“Bucky, what are you d-”

“You- I-” He clenches his jaw and exhales sharply. “I just- I wanted to tell you that you look beautiful tonight. Your- uh- your outfit looks good on you.”

“You mean your shirt? You mean to tell me that your most beloved article of clothing looks good universally?” I laugh out nervously, not wanting to mention the proximity.

“No- just on you. It looks- you look fuckin’ incredible, sweetheart.” He flashes me a lopsided smile and gives my shoulders a squeeze. “You can keep it. If you want.”

“You don’t need it? I thought this was your secret weapon that you used to bend all of mankind to your devilishly handsome will?”

“I could do that with or without the shirt, believe me.” He drawls out, the cocky bastard. His smile falters the tiniest bit, unease flashes across his features. He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. He clenches his jaw one final time and finds my hand again.

“Let's go.” Bucky leads me out of the bathroom to the outskirts  of the party. The beer pong table is left uninhabited, red solo cups stacked messily from rounds passed.

Bucky quickly sets up the cups and I fetch the most tolerable beer I can find and start filling the cups in preparation of the battle ahead. I roll my neck and crack my knuckles before we begin- Bucky rolls his eyes at me with a laugh. “You ready, sweetheart?”

“The real question, James, is… are you ready?”

“Just play, smartass.” A cheeky smile appears on his face.

Something is wrong. Dear God, something is horrifyingly and incredibly wrong. Bucky is winning at beer pong. Never, in the history of us, had he even come close to beating me- except for tonight.

“What the fuck, Barnes? Have you been getting private beer pong lessons just for this?” I shoot and miss again. Third time in a row. I haven’t even hit the rim in the past few turns.

Could it be because Thor got too tipsy and spilled his drink all over Bucky’s little conservative long sleeve sweater and he had to go and change into one of those ridiculously stupid, sexy, (did I mention stupid? And also so, so very sexy) wife pleaser vests. His muscles are on full display- arms toned and chest rippling. Dear God. The alcohol buzzing around my system is screaming at me to bite his bicep- surely it wouldn’t be that weird, right? Just a little nibble...

No. What the fuck is wrong with me? I need to get a fucking grip. Perhaps a grip on those sculpted pecs while- No. Not doing that now.

Looking like the cat that ate the canary, Bucky wears the smuggest, filthiest grin on his face. “Oh, sweetheart…” He saunters over to my side of the table and picks up my last red solo cup- there is a small, orange ping pong ball floating tauntingly in the cool brown liquid. He fishes it out with his fingers it and sets it down on the table.

“Drink up.”

I flash him a glare, my eyes narrow as he brings the cup up to my lips. His eyes are trained on me as I gulp down the last of my drink.

 “Good. Now let’s discuss my prize.” He removes the cup and wipes away a stray droplet of beer that escaped out the corner of my mouth, with his thumb. Without stopping, he brings that same digit to his lips and licks it. I feel frozen, dumbstruck, and I’m quite sure I look it. My jaw hangs open slightly as I watch him. I gulp, suddenly very thirsty.

“Cocky, weren’t you? Sweetheart?” he smirks and pinches my chin lightly with his pointer finger and his thumb. He gives me a light squeeze and retreats. The touch sends a shiver down my spine, goosebumps erupt down my arms and the delicious burn of desire settles in my stomach.

“Shut up, Barnes. I don’t know which devil you gave your soul to for skills like that, but I have got to say… that seems like a pretty good deal. You're alright." I admit defeat, my shoulders rise and I hold my hands up in surrender. I smile at him cheekily as he approaches. His steps are slow, deliberate. Wrapped in confidence and assuredness.

“So, Jamie. Your prize- what’ll it be?” I ask, after a small beat of silence.

We look at each other for a moment, just a single moment. Although, it doesn't feel that way. Lifetimes could have passed us by, empires could have risen and fallen- and I would still be lost in his eyes. The deep azure pierces my very soul. He blinks and clears his throat, looking to the floor almost embarrassedly.

"Buck? You alright?" I enquire, moving closer to him.

He chuckles and nods his head slowly.

“You know my cousin, Emma? She’s uh- she’s gettin’ married next Saturday and... And I need a date.” Earnest fills his words, and an irresistible, infuriatingly beautiful smile appears on his face.

I have to resist the urge to pinch myself, because this could only be a really fucked up, steamy dream. I’m silent for a beat, trying to comprehend exactly what he said and the implications behind that.

“I mean, sweetheart, only if you want to. If you- uh- like if you’re not into that, I can just go solo.” His voice holds a slight tremble at the end of his sentence. Holy shit- is he nervous?

“No, no! I am- I’d be into that. We can definitely go together.” I reassure him. My heart pounds against my ribcage, my cheeks heat and a bright smile finds its way onto my face.

“It’d just be better for my ma to think I’m seein’ someone. I know she’s gonna try pair me up with her neighbour’s daughter. Again.” His hands are dug deeply in his pockets, his Adams apple bobs as he swallows.

Realisation flashes on my face. Friends. He wants to go as friends who are pretending to be dating. Right, of course.

“Yeah, for sure. Uh- I’ve got you covered, Jamie.” My smile falters, only for a moment. His eyebrows scrunch together, concern flashing across his features. I give him a half-hearted smile.

“Alright, thanks Birdie. You’re a lifesaver.” He removes his hands from his pockets and claps them together. “You want another drink? I can make you somethin’ quick.”

“Sure, yeah. Do you still have that margarita mix? It was yummy.” I suggest, clumsily. I need to find my footing after that absolute emotional rollercoaster, so he will just have to excuse my unbecoming behavior.

People start filtering out one by one and soon, the disco lights are turned off and the soft, warm glow of the lamps fill the living room. I find myself leaning against Bucky on the worn leather couch, exhaustion weighs heavily on me, and I find my eyes flitting shut for a few moments at a time.

“Birdie? You wanna go to bed?” Bucky coos.

I grumble in response, not fully committed to giving him a proper answer.

He chuckles, it’s rich and dark and perfect. “You can take the guest bedroom if you want… Or do you want to sleep here, sweetheart?”

“Bed.” I manage to mumble, with half lidded eyes and a stifled yawn.

“Do you need me to walk you there? You good to do that, baby? Or should I carry you?” His voice is soft, full of compassion. Even drunk and exhausted, it makes my heart swell. I can’t help but smile- it’s lazy and probably not my most picture-perfect smile, but it’s there now.

“Just fucking carry me. I know you want to- you know I want you to.”

He laughs out and hops up to scoop me up from my position on the couch. His strong arms come up under me and Bucky carries me to the guest bedroom, he doesn’t even break a sweat. You’d swear he was a goddamn superhero or something.

Bucky lays me down gingerly and I shift to get comfortable as I feel the softness of the mattress beneath me. “Thank you, sweet Jamie. My sweet… sweet Jamie.” My eyes flutter shut and I nestle into the pillow.

“G’night, Birdie. Sweet dreams.”  He leans down and presses a chaste kiss to my forehead. If I'd been more cognizant, perhaps I would've seen the way he smiled down at me from the side of the bed, eyes soft and full of care. Maybe I would have noticed his hesitance to leave, or the way he brought his fist up to his chest and rubbed it soothingly. Perhaps I would've picked up on the fact that his heart burned inside his chest for me, the same way mine did for him.

Hello everyone! This is the first part of my first ever series, I really hope you like it!

Please let me know what you all thought of it!

xoxo, Viv

[midway-ans]

@tyremanagementsupremacy thank you for tagging me! It’s 6 a.m. and I knew immediately what it would be 🤍

WIP Word Game!

Rules: Tagger gives a word, then for each letter of that word, you share an excerpt from your WIPs that start with that letter.

My word - Stork (and this is beautiful, gave me the exact wip from docs like a click)

The excerpts are from very much new and pretty unknown yet wip, Omegaverse (of course it would be a/b/o) aka Gewis mountain AU. I wasn’t sticking to some specific time frame but I guess it’s fitting for 15th century.

S - Stranger’s boots were caked in mud, his traveling cloak torn at the shoulder. An Alpha’s scent - smoke and iron - cut through the petrichor. George froze, memories clawing at his throat: Richard’s hands, the crack of splintered doorwood, the pain. But this man’s face, even in unconsciousness, held no cruelty. Blood streaked his temple, his braids matted with leaves.

T - Thick fog embraced the mountain summits, draping the alpine hamlet in a shimmering haze. George pulled his wool cloak tighter around him, the chilly moisture creeping into his joints as he wound through the woodland trail. The basket of herbs at his side jostled with each step, a distant rumble of thunder rolling through the towering pines. Hyacinth would be fine under Alex’s care, he reassured himself, though his pace instinctively hastened.

O - One moment it took for George’s hesitance, then he began to fuss with his herbs, grinding leaves into a paste and brewing a tea with practiced hands. “He was out there in the storm. I couldn’t leave him.”

R - Rasping breaths broke the silence of the night as Alpha drifted briefly into consciousness, his fevered mind grappling with fragments of reality. The flicker of firelight danced across his vision, and he felt the gentle pressure of a cool cloth against his brow. A voice - soft, melodic - hovered at the edge of his awareness, coaxing him to sip water from a cup pressed to his lips. His dark eyes fluttered open, catching a glimpse of alabaster skin and bright blue eyes before the haze pulled him under again, leaving only the faint imprint of kindness amid the storm raging within him.

K - Knife in hand, George deftly sliced a chunk of crusty bread, the morning sun filtering through the wooden shutters of their small home. The hearth crackled softly, warming the room as he stirred a pot of porridge spiced with dried herbs from his forest haul. Hyacinth snuggled into her soft fur nest by the fire, her wide blue eyes locked on the stranger still sleeping soundly. “Papa, is the giant man going to wake up soon?” she asked, her small voice threaded with wonder and a hint of unease, stirring George’s tender heart. He cast a quick glance at Alpha’s even breaths, then turned to her with a gentle smile. “Soon, little bloom. We’ll make extra, just in case he’s hungry.”

Also, can I be a little ass again and not tag anyone because it seems like everyone’s been already tagged and I don’t wanna bother you guys? I’m always a dead end in tag games. And I never realised how rarely a sentence can start with word of letter K.

[sharonzgallery]

It’s finally time to talk about the cultural project that’s been brewing in my head.

Assassin’s Creed: Summit, a fan game that I have no talent to program, set in 1740s colonial Colombia.

This guy is the game’s future Mentor, Jaguar Dorado/Javier Núñez. He’s Muysca Indigenous and Spanish, born into the Colombian indigenous brotherhood. His mother is Muysca royalty, and his (very loving and very present) father is a disgraced Jesuit priest.

I’ll discuss any cultural elements through asks and self reboots later!

[blue2jay]

The Family Trip Incident

🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷

Summary:On a rare family outing or trip, your sister or mother complains about you, acting entitled. Leon steps in to handle the situation, ensuring you’re respected and cared for while keeping the trip from spiraling into disaster.

🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷

“The Family Trip Incident”

The idea of a family trip sounded great in theory—some time away from the daily grind, a chance to relax and enjoy each other’s company. But with your family, it was bound to have complications. Melissa and your mother, in particular, had a way of turning even the most innocent outing into a tense, exhausting ordeal.

Leon had been optimistic when you told him about the plans, promising to help you navigate any drama. Still, as the family car ride began, you couldn’t help but feel the subtle undercurrent of tension brewing.

The first sign of trouble came during breakfast at the hotel.

“I just don’t understand why they didn’t give us the bigger room,” Melissa said, her tone dripping with entitlement as she pushed her plate away. “I mean, David and I need the space. It’s not like Y/N and Leon need that much—do you even spend time in the room, or are you just off doing… whatever it is you two do?”

Your fork paused midair, her comment stinging. Before you could respond, your mother chimed in, “Well, Melissa has a point. She and David are married, and they have more responsibilities. You and Leon could’ve taken the smaller room, don’t you think?”

Leon, who had been silently enjoying his coffee, set his cup down with deliberate calmness. He glanced at you, his blue eyes meeting yours, offering silent reassurance before speaking.

“With all due respect,” Leon said, his tone polite but firm, “the room assignments were made based on what was available. And Y/N and I don’t mind what space we have—it’s about making the trip enjoyable for everyone, isn’t it?”

Melissa’s lips pressed into a thin line, clearly annoyed by his calm deflection.

“Well, I’m just saying,” she muttered, crossing her arms, “it would’ve been fairer.”

“Fairer for who?” Leon asked, his voice still level but with an edge that silenced the table. “We’re all here to relax, not argue over room sizes.”

Your grandmother, who had been quietly observing, smiled approvingly. “Exactly. It’s a family trip, not a contest.”

The next incident happened at the hiking trail.

As the group made their way up a scenic path, Melissa lagged behind, loudly complaining about the incline and the heat. “Who picked this trail, anyway?” she whined, shooting you a pointed look. “It’s way too steep. Did Y/N pick it? This seems like her kind of thing—too much work for no payoff.”

You gritted your teeth, but before you could say anything, Leon—who was carrying a cooler of water and snacks without breaking a sweat—turned to her.

“Actually, I suggested this trail,” he said smoothly, his voice steady. “It’s not that steep, and the views at the top are worth it. If it’s too much for you, though, we can head back.”

Melissa flushed, clearly unwilling to admit defeat. “I’m fine. It’s just… I didn’t expect it to be this much walking.”

You smirked slightly, your mood lifting at Leon’s subtle way of putting her in her place.

When you reached the summit, the breathtaking view silenced even Melissa’s complaints. Your grandmother leaned over to you, her smile warm. “Good choice, Y/N. This was worth every step.”

The tipping point came during dinner.

Melissa had spent the day quietly sulking, but by the time dessert arrived, she was back to her usual self. As the family shared stories and laughs, she found another opportunity to criticize you.

“I just think it’s funny,” she said, her voice carrying across the table, “how Y/N always seems to make everything about her. Even on this trip, she picked the trail, the restaurant, and even got the bigger room. It’s a little selfish, don’t you think?”

Your mother nodded slightly, adding, “Well, Melissa does have a point. Y/N, maybe you should think about how your decisions affect everyone else.”

The air grew heavy with tension, and you felt your chest tighten. Before you could say anything, Leon spoke up, his voice calm but firm.

“With all due respect,” Leon said, looking directly at Melissa, “Y/N didn’t pick everything for herself. She made suggestions that worked for everyone. If anyone has an issue, maybe they should speak up at the time instead of complaining later.”

Melissa bristled, but Leon wasn’t done.

“And as for being selfish,” he continued, his tone sharp enough to cut through the room, “Y/N is one of the most selfless people I know. She’s constantly putting others first, even when it’s inconvenient for her. Frankly, she deserves more credit for making this trip enjoyable for all of us.”

Your grandmother chimed in with a nod. “He’s right. Y/N has done plenty to make this trip special. Melissa, maybe you should take a step back and think about what you’ve contributed.”

Melissa’s face turned bright red, and David shifted uncomfortably beside her, clearly unsure how to respond. Your grandfather, who had been quietly sipping his drink, chuckled softly. “Well said, Leon. We could use more level-headed folks like you around here.”

After dinner, as the family dispersed to their rooms, Leon pulled you aside, his hand warm on your back.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his blue eyes filled with concern.

You nodded, letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “Yeah. Thanks for standing up for me. I don’t know how you stay so calm.”

Leon smiled, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “It’s easy when it’s for you. You deserve better than their nonsense.”

You leaned into him, feeling the weight of the day melt away. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He smirked, his voice low. “Luckily, you don’t have to find out.”

As you walked back to your room hand in hand, you couldn’t help but feel grateful. The trip might have been a minefield of family drama, but with Leon by your side, you knew you could handle anything.

[askaalaska-vdeppressed]

Eskel Kinktober Day 1: Body Worship

The solid wood door creaked highly at the hinges as Eskel stepped into the tavern. The warm glow of the lanterns, the smell of the mead you brewed in the back, the way the floor swayed ever so slightly toward the bar– were all well known to Eskel as he entered. This was not the first time, not even the one hundred and first time he had entered your bar, and so long as you would have him he would keep returning. However what was unknown to Eskel was the extreme noise that hit him like a wall as he walked in. 

The town was not very big, even if every drunkard and bachelor within twenty miles were at your door, he didn’t think it would be this packed. Eskel made good use of his acrobatic skills as he weaved between people. His heightened senses quickly became a curse as the smell and sounds became more and more overwhelming as he got deeper into the building. Finally after what felt like an hour of navigation– but what couldn’t have been more than a few minutes- he reached the entrance to the back. 

The smell of stew and cooking vegetables was a welcome reprieve as Eskel watched your cook Mandi juggle multiple plates and pots with the grace of a dancer. What grabbed his attention was the sounds of struggling as you came up the stairs from the cellar navigating a barrel. As you reached the summit he grabbed the barrel from you, setting it to the side so he could properly see you. 

“Eskel” you said surprised. Your hair was flying out in little disobedient frays, the sweat on your skin and labored breathing told of your exertion with the stairs and stains marred your normally crisp top. “I thought you’d be gone for at least another week?” You looked up at the witcher as you were slowly but surely catching your breath. 

“Alderman was wrong about the type of monster” He said flatly before gesturing to the door that led to the veritable mob of people in the main room. “So what’s with the..”

“Ugh” Your normally composed and pleasant face couldn’t help but scrunch. “Apparntly some traveling caravan decided it was our town they wanted to torture by staying the night.” Just as you finished speaking a loud crash could be heard from the main room, causing the pair of you to cringe. 

“Here” You reached into the pouch tied to your skirts and handed him the key to your suite upstairs. “I think you know where everything is” Eskel simply nodded his head as he took the back staircase to your quarters. 

It was well into the early morning before he heard the commotion quite below him and it was even further into the night when he finally heard your exhausted footsteps make their way up to the room. Eskel dipped a hand into the bath water he had drawn as he heard you approach. He had occupied himself while you were downstairs by sorting through his packs. After that was organized and you still weren't finished he had set about getting water and other items for a bath. 

He was drying his hand as the creak of the door gave away you position. You stood, leaning against the doorframe, one eye shut as you let out a sigh. The frays from earlier were now stuck to your forehead with sweat. Fatigue crept into every fiber of your being. 

“I’m sorry about that Esk, if I had known you’d be back I would hav-” 

“Hey now none of that” Eskel had hastily walked over to you, quieting your apologetics and taking your hands in his, leading you further into your chambers. As you walked you noticed the slight steam coming from the tub by the fireplace.

“Thank you my love, why don’t you head to bed and I’ll join you shortly” You suggested, trying to get your witcher to let you go and go get some rest himself. For a split second it seemed your plea may have worked, as Eskel’s hand did drop your own, however they then took up a post on your back, nimble fingers starting to unlace fabric. 

“How about instead of sleeping you let me pamper you some hmmm?” Eskel looked down on you with warm eyes and a playful smirk on his lips. 

“Honey don’t feel obligated just because it was busy downstairs, I can handle it, I’m a-.” Eskel stopped your rebuttal as his hands rested on either side of your face,his thumb caressing your bottom lip. 

“Let me do this because I want to then.” With his grasp on your face you had no choice but to sit directly in his gaze. His eyes full of adoration, a desire and passion to see your stresses melt away burning in them. You closed your eyes and relented, dramatically flopping your head into his shoulder, using him to balance you. Eskel only gave out a chuckle as he reached around once more to rid you of clothing. 

Once you were bare before him sturdy arms reached under your knees and picked you up, cradling yourself against his chest as he led you to the tub. Slowly lowering you into the water, your skin twitched as it made contact, a sigh leaving your body. As you settled in, Eskel was as gentle as possible, letting your hair down. His hands then began rubbing small circles into the hard as stone flesh of your neck. The small rhythmic movements, combined with the heat of the water slowly easing your tension. One of his hands left its post at your neck, coming back to start lathering soap into your hair. Fingers gliding and stretching along your scalp. 

Quick work was made of rinsing. He was then massaging soap into you body, feathery touches skimmed over your breasts, the whisper of contact mixed with the rough work worn hands of the witcher caused you to jolt at the sensation. 

“Seems I've found something here.” Eskel was right behind your whispering into your ear with his arms around you. He knew damn well what he was doing, having  bedded you enough times at this point to have you quivering in seconds. Right now you were of no mind to even try to fight him on it. The rough pads of his fingers grazed over your nipples, circling ever so slowly around them. You leaned you head into his shoulder puffs of air meeting his neck.

“Esk..” he hummed at your needy tone, giving the buds much sturdier touches, rolling them with his fingers under the water. Your whimpers let out so close to his ears, while your legs jolted slightly causing waves to splash over the sides of the basin. 

“Why don’t I get you out before you make a mess.” Much to your dismay Eskel removed his hands from the water, grabbing a towel to dry you off. Once suitably dry he picked you up once more, brining you over to the bed. 

Eskel set you down on your back with the reverence of a monk and the gentleness of a newborn. He lifted himself next to you onto the bed, hands caressing calves. A singular finger slid down the arch of your leg, sitting at the knee. Eskel’s mouth followed, devotion in his lips as he stared down at you, kissing the inside of your knee. He palmed your thighs, moving them to spread. 

He looked down at you, mouth reluctant to leave skin. “If this were the last night of my life, I’d die a happy man.” He then resumed kissing your knee, moving his mouth down further further till he met the apex of your thighs. Your hands sat twitching in anticipation at your sides. A dull fatigue still sat over everything, your vision almost having a film on it. However your senses were alright. The path Eskel had taken to your cunt was burning, the skin tingling and buzzing like skin warming from the cold of winter. 

The air was still for several moments, and your eyes were half lidded when you felt your seam being split open by plush lips. His tongue darted out to taste you. Your moans and gasps filled the quiet night as he only dove deeper. Tongue lapping at your entrance and clit, while his hands gently massaged your thighs while he held them open. As he continued on your lost yourself in a haze of pleasure, so much so that when one of his hands left its post you didn’t notice till it was prodding at your entrance. His tongue and lips now focused on your bud while his fingers sought out your pleasure elsewhere. 

Eskel knew he had found the spot he was searching for when the noises you emanated suddenly rose in pitch and the leg he was not holding gave a jolt. You swore you could feel him smiling as he picked up his pace, fingers assaulting that spot as he sucked hard on your clit. You could feel that coil in your core tightening, hips now canting up to meet the thrusts of his hand. One of your hands let go of it’s grasp on your sheets to cover your mouth as you cried out. Moans radiating in the air as your climax swept over you. 

Eskel rose up on his elbows, his smile devious as he licked his teeth. You lifted your arms to cover your face. Elbows out protecting you from further turning into goo at the sight of the scarred man. You could hear him chuckle as he got off the bed, moving toward the bath to grab a cloth. By the time he had turned back he noticed your breathing had evened out. Pulling back your arms to reveal your very satisfied and very asleep face.