#The court scene made me (and many others) start barking and snarling. But no one holds a candle to Remy Bonnaire.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Be wary not of the beast, but the hand that tamed it.

(Read more dog training tips over at Tiger Tiger)

[nestasgalpal]

Consequences

Fixing ACOSF Part 3

Masterlist | AO3

Summary: Nesta tells Feyre what the baby’ll do to her when she gives birth and regrets it as soon as the words leave her mouth.  This chapter is a long one and it’s all about being sisters.They would die and kill for each other, we know that, that was never doubted, but where is the scene where they talk like real sisters? Here.

Tagging:  @gwynriel @rhaenystargaryn @clolikescloquetas @amelievrstr  @t8astr8ng @wanderlustlastsforever @saltydreamcollector @lordlorcan @esrahiba @queenestarcheron @ko0mbayamylord  @jemstan300 @nessiantrashh​ @mothergwyn @poisonus-bloom @loveadora @frosted-crackers  @mireillemystique @pataytayo @968sunflower968 @caram267

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!!

The next part will be Cassian’s pov from this chapter, which was in the book. I’ve said this already, but my intention is that you can simply pick this rewrite and exchange it with the one in the book and still have all the events before and after match, so I think rewriting his pov is necessary for consistency. That’s also why Nesta is still feeling lost by the end of this: that’s how she felt until they went to the lake.

Nesta snarled, but Feyre stepped between them, hands raised. “This conversation ends now. Nesta, go back to the House. Amren, you …” She hesitated, as if considering the wisdom of ordering Amren around. Feyre finished carefully, “You stay here.”

Nesta let out a low laugh. “You are her High Lady. You don’t need to cater to her. Not when she now has less power than any of you.”

Feyre’s eyes blazed. “Amren is my friend, and has been a member of this court for centuries. I offer her respect.”

“Is it respect that she offers you?” Nesta spat. “Is it respect that your mate offers you?”

Feyre went still.

Amren warned, “Don’t you say one more fucking word , Nesta Archeron.”

Feyre asked, “What do you mean?”

And Nesta didn’t care. Couldn’t think around the roaring. “Have any of them told you, their respected High Lady, that the babe in your womb will kill you?”

Amren barked, “Shut your mouth!”

But her order was confirmation enough. Face paling, Feyre whispered again, “What do you mean?”

“The wings,” Nesta seethed. “The boy’s Illyrian wings will get stuck in your Fae body during the labor, and it will kill you both.”

Silence rippled through the room, the world.

Feyre breathed, “Madja just said the labor would be risky. But the Bone Carver … The son he showed me didn’t have wings.” Her voice broke. “Did he only show me what I wanted to see?”

“I don’t know,” Nesta said. “But I do know that your mate ordered everyone not to inform you of the truth.” She turned to Amren. “Did you all vote on that, too? Did you talk about her, judge her, and deem her unworthy of the truth? What was your vote, Amren? To let Feyre die in ignorance? Or maybe he simply gave the order and you all obeyed your High Lord’s command, dismissing the new High Lady” Before Amren could reply, Nesta turned back to her sister. “Didn’t you question why your precious, perfect Rhysand has been a moody bastard for weeks? Because he knows you will die. He knows, and yet he still didn’t tell you.”

Feyre began shaking. “If I die …” Her gaze drifted to one of her tattooed arms. She lifted her head, eyes bright with tears as she asked Amren, “You … all of you knew this?”

Amren threw a withering glare in Nesta’s direction, but said, “We did not wish to alarm you. Fear can be as deadly as any physical threat.”

“Rhys knew?” Tears spilled down Feyre’s cheeks, smearing the paint splattered there. “About the threat to our lives?” She peered down at herself, at the tattooed hand cradling her abdomen.

And Nesta knew then that she had not once in her life been loved by her mother as much as Feyre already loved the boy growing within her. It broke something in Nesta—broke that rage, that roaring—seeing those tears begin to fall, the fear crumpling Feyre’s paint-smeared face.

She had gone too far. She … Oh, gods.

Amren said, “I think it is best, girl, if you speak to Rhysand about this.”

Nesta couldn’t bear it—the pain and fear and love on Feyre’s face as she caressed her stomach.

Amren growled at Nesta, “I hope you’re content now.”

Nesta didn’t respond. Didn’t know what to say or do with herself. “Don’t talk to my sister like that” Feyre snarled, the sorrow so obvious in her voice that the only thing Nesta could do was turn on her heel and ran from the apartment.

Nesta run down to the street, but she didn’t even know where to go. Feyre’s steps resonated behind her. Nesta could hear her voice calling her, too, but she muted the sound in her head.

She wanted to disappear, to stop existing, that’s what she wanted to do.

Then she heard the pair of wings in the air, aiming towards her in such speed that frightened her a little. Cassian was above her, barely five feet from where she was, but Feyre gripped her arm before he could land, and they vanished.

Nesta had never been to Feyre’s studio, but recognized the space immediatly. She had never been invited, and she had never wanted to go. Nesta didn’t like being in places where she wasn’t welcomed. There were chairs and half painted canvases forming a circle around the center of the room, so Nesta deduced her sister had been in the middle of a class. There was a couch against the back wall, and that’s where Feyre collapsed and started crying her heart out. Nesta aimed for the floor, not daring to sit in the beautiful piece of furniture.

Nesta didn’t ask why she had brought them there, why she had run after her, reaching for her arm before Cassian could.

Feyre didn’t explain either

Her head rested in her sister’s lap, and she joined her in her crying. Feyre’s was loud, unhinged, while Nesta’s was silent. What had she done? How had she allowed herself to go so far?

Nesta wanted to speak, to tell Feyre that she was sorry, but no apology could make up for the words that had already been said. No apology would prevent her from dying when the time came.

Nesta’s heart shattered. Listening to her sister was too much. She had endured her own weeping, the tears that had adorned her cheeks so many nights until she fell asleep, but to hear Feyre… to know she was the one responsible… Nesta hated herself.

For how long they were like that, she didn’t know. At some point, they both run out of tears, their hands together, their fingers interlaced. Nesta caressed Feyre’s palm until her sobbing was completely gone, pressing soft kisses to the inked back of her hand. She couldn’t recall a time when they had ever been like this, this calm, this close to one another. Alone and without fighting.

It was Feyre the who broke the silence.

“I can’t believe he hid something like this from me,” she muttered, her voice so weak Nesta almost couldn’t understand what she was saying.

She raised her head from her sister’s lap to meet her gaze. Her own eyes stared back, mirroring her pain. “I’m sorry”

“For what?” Feyre’s question was not innocent. She was mad at her too.

Nesta didn’t care for Rhysand and his wrath in that moment. She only cared about her sister and the damage she had done to her. She wanted Feyre to know how much she regretted it, bout still didn’t know how to put her thoughts into words. “For telling you.”

“I forgive you” Feyre tried to smile, but her mouth only twitched, a sobbing coming out again. “I’m glad you told me. I needed to know.”

“You shouldn’t. I certainly won’t forgive myself” She was desperate to tint her words with the mess of feelings tangling in her heart, but she didn’t know how. She hadn’t really done this before. She had regretted things, but she had never asked for forgiveness. Not once.

She was glad Feyre was the first one.

“I still forgive you” Her sister’s words were kind. Too kind. It was Nesta’s turn to become a crying mess, tears running down her face again. Feyre rose from the couch, not letting their hands part, holding tight to her sister. She found a place to sit next to Nesta, and hugged her.

“Then I’m sorry for everything else” Nesta murmured.

“It’s okay. I forgive you for that too”

“He will never forgive me”

Feyre took Nesta’s face between her tattooed hands. Her grip was firm, but her body was still trembling. Nesta didn’t want to look at her, but she did it anyway. There was no more hiding “You don’t need his forgiveness. This is not a punishment, Nesta.” Her voice broke, but they both waited for her to find her words back. There was no rush, only understanding “This was not a punishment. I wanted to help you, I really did, but I didn’t know how.”

Nesta shifted, changing her posture to face Feyre better. She still hadn’t let her face go. “I thought you wanted revenge.”

“I never meant to hurt you… to lock you up and take away your choices”. Nesta recognized the words she had once said to Morrigan; the only time she had verbalized to anyone how her sister's actions felt. The blond one had talked to Feyre about their encounter, apparently. Nesta pushed the inked hands that framed her face away and took Feyre’s body in her arms abruptly. She didn’t resist, only moved her arms to go around Nesta’s waist “I only wanted my sister back” she whined.

She understood. Nesta understood. She wanted her family back, too. But a war had happened, and she still doubted she would ever be adjusted enough to be herself again. She didn’t say it, but she knew, somehow, that Feyre understood that too.

Like war drums, the sound of two pairs of wings coming closer made both of them shift in each other’s arms. Through the walls of the studio, only her fae senses made it possible for her to hear the sound they made. Her arms remained wrapping Feyre’s body, her sister still like a statue.

Rhysand and Cassian.

They landed outside, their presences obvious to both sisters.

“I know it will take time for them to listen to me as they listen to him, but I also know they are trying. They are my friends, Nesta, don’t be mad at them” Feyre moved, loosening her grip on Nesta, so she did the same to leave her more space. Feyre rose to her feet. “They’ve been together for over 500 years.” She reached her hand and Nesta took it, getting up as well. The sisters faced each other “What I need, Nesta, if for you and Elain to be there for me too when I can’t resort to them. I know I’ve claimed them as my family… they are my family now, but so are you. I need you. I need my older sister” Feyre’s eyes were glassy, but her gaze burned with fire. Determination.

Nesta forced herself to hold her stare. She wished she could be there. She wanted to, but she didn’t have the strength. She was too lost.

“I will never fit in that perfect family you seek. Doesn’t matter how bad you want it, Feyre, it just can’t be. I’ll never be one of you.”

“You could...”

“But I don’t think I want to” Feyre didn’t say a word, she just listened to her “I don’t know if they can be a family for me”. Nesta wished she could, but it wasn’t just on her end. They didn’t want her either. Morrigan would have sent her to the Mortal Lands. They would get rid of her, if it wasn’t for Feyre shielding her.

You are a waste of life, Amren had told her once.

Nesta was not doing all of this on purpose. She wanted to have her life back more than anyone, but she didn’t know the way. “You can’t control people’s lives, Feyre. Even if you are doing it from a place of love. I wish I could tell you that there is a way, that I’m going to be there for you, but I don’t know if I can promise you that.”

Feyre finally sat back on the couch. She was pregnant, she must be exhausted. Her blue-ish eyes were caught up on the window, the view of the Sidra. Nesta didn’t sit by her side.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when we were younger. If I could go back now, I know what I would change. But I don’t know how to change the past, and I don’t know how to fix the future.”

Nesta didn’t know what else to say. She was sorry. Feyre was sorry too. Yet all their problems remained. Nesta wanted to die, to stop existing, and Feyre wanted her happy and by her side. She knew Feyre would give in, she would always give in if Nesta just asked her to, but she didn’t even know what to ask for. There was no solution for her, no future.

Nesta didn’t have tears left to fill her eyes. She didn’t know how to fix herself, her terrible impulse to hurt others, her high walls. She didn’t know and she didn’t want to find out anymore.

When she stayed close to the people she loved, they were hurt. But when she put distance between them, they still suffered.

She was the problem.

“I will live. And so will my baby. And so will you” Feyre’s words were the sentence of a High Lady, they were not up for discussion. Her sister had grown too much and too fast. She was far from perfect, but she was giving her all to become the ruler her Court needed. One day, she would be. “Run away, take your time if that’s what you need. Come to my house, we’ll kick Rhysand to a guest room so you can sleep in my bed when you have a nightmare. I don’t care. I won’t give up on you.”

It didn’t matter, Nesta had given up on herself.

“You don’t have to fit in the Inner Circle, you know?” She added, her eyes still fixed on the river beyond the glass windows. “You don’t have to be part of the Court. You can just be my sister. You can come see your nephew when he is born, help me teach him how to read, dance…” Not even Nesta’s inner demons could stop the smile that formed on her lips at the image her sister described. She would like to have a nephew.

Feyre saw her face, the trembling lips, swollen, the smile in them. She was smiling too, thought it was a sad grin.

“I haven’t forgotten what you said to me when I came back from Tamlin’s state. Any of it.” Nesta hadn’t forgotten either, the memory of herself encouraging her little sister to go back to the Wall to save her beloved. She had been a fool. That was just another point in the large list of times when she had failed her “You wanted to leave father’s state to him and Elain, and you wanted to see the world. Not what I expected, from someone who had spent her entire life revolving around marriage as the basis for a future.”

Nesta shifted on her feet, eager to understand what her sister’s point was.

“You don’t need to be a lady or a queen without a throne of anything at all. Just take your time, find out who you want to be when every possibility is within your reach. We’ll be waiting for you, whenever you are ready to come back. You’ll always fit in my family, Nesta. And it would be an honor for me to fit in yours.”

There was a knock on the door. An impatient hand moving on the wood to drive their attention.

The door didn’t open for them.

They had been waiting out there for a while, and without seeing him, Nesta could tell Cassian was nervous like a caged animal. Rhysand hadn’t moved, he remained perfectly still, waiting for his mate to go meet him whenever she wanted to.

“I asked Cassian to come” She didn’t mention her husband, why he was there “I’ll take us to the river house if you want to be there from now on. He can take you to the House of Wind, too, if that’s where you want to go.” Nesta dipped into the slightest nod, ready to go out and find Cassian mad at her, but still willing to take her back to her room and wait until he made sure she was okay. She wanted to be alone, but she liked how being alone together felt. Just as her sister, Cassian couldn’t let go of her. She hated it, and she had a feeling that he hated it too. He was out there, with Rhysand… “But there is a third option…”

Nesta waited for her sister to go on. Where else could she go? There wasn’t a place for her. There had never been.

“It was actually Cassian’s idea. He thought you might use a little time outside. You can go together to the Illyrian-”

“I’m not going back to that village” Nesta was not going to the camps. Not all of this again…

Nesta started building up her walls again. Feyre kept her cool. The crying mess she had been a while ago, completely gone, a confident woman replacing her; a High Lady in the making. “I was gonna say Illyrian Mountains. As in actual mountains. You’ll go hiking, I don’t know what he has planned exactly. To talk to him, if you want to.”

Nesta relaxed her back, but kept her posture straight.

“I could give that a try.” she answered. If there was an option where she went out of Velaris, she was taking it.

A smile threatened to form in Feyre’s lips, but she retained it, knowing that Nesta wouldn’t like the expression of victory on her face. Nesta had already seen the corner of her lips move, but pretended she hadn’t. Feyre had a lot to learn about keeping a blank face. She hoped one day she would be in conditions to teach her.

“Your mate is outside” Nesta said, her tone casual, her words heavy like stone.

“He is” Nesta could read her sister like an open book. She was eager to see him again, scared, angry.

She gave her little sister’s hand a tug. “Let’s go see what he has to say.”

Nesta couldn’t yet find a way to help herself, but she was going to face Rhysand, his anger, and she was going to come out on top. She was going to do it for herself, but also for Feyre, who needed her biggest sister having her back.

[imagine-loki]

Pride and Prejudice

TITLE: Pride and Prejudice CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 43 AUTHOR: wolfpawn

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki was raised on Jotunheim as Laufey’s son after the war, but an agreement was then made that he would wed Odin’s daughter so Odin could secure the alliance of Jotunheim through the marriage. Loki, in turn, was raised to be king of Jotunheim, but how he views Asgard is far different from how Odin’s daughter is raised leading to a clash of cultures as well as uncertainty between the pair of betrothed youths.     RATING: Mature   NOTES/WARNINGS: Forced Marriage, not all fun and games. My first real step back into the Loki scene in over a year.

Tags - @skulliebythesea @asimovethroughthisworld @blackcherry26-blog @we-shadowhunter2901

Arden and Loki had far longer legs than Ella yet she walked through the palace at a pace that both Frost Giants were almost jogging to keep up with her, a fire in her eyes as she made her way to the throne room.

Those within the public gallery of the Jotunn court were gossiping and commenting amongst themselves at the comments that had been stated not half an hour before. They all jumped when the doors to the room burst open, not by a physical force but with a blast of green seidr, followed very closely by Ella, who strode into the room with an air that made the weary and angered Laufey think he was sitting in her throne and not his own. He had said nothing of the rumours circulating in his court such a short time previous as he did not wish to fuel them in any manner, but he was irate that any would be so callous as to imply that his son’s mate would take another without so much as considering her mate fighting on the battlefield. He could not stop Loki and Ella choosing to have more mates if they felt like it but he knew, considering the agreement with the Aesir on the marriage, that it would have to be mutually decided and of the two, he knew there was little to no chance of Ella being the one to ask for such. He, like most others, jumped when the doors of his throne room blasted from the hinges, but the fiery look in the eyes of the perpetrator of said destruction stopped him from making any comment. There were identical looks of fearful intrigue on Loki and Arden’s faces as they entered the room behind her, their gaze going to the broken doors for a moment before back to her as they followed her through the hall, the crowds of Jotnar parting as she made her way in front of Laufey.

“My King,” She bowed as she spoke, “I apologise for the manner in which I am interrupting your court but I feel I have to seek answers of a most peculiar kind from one who seems adamant to sow discord in your house.”

“Court seems to be wanting to discuss little else, we may as well seek truth now.” Laufey nodded.

“Thank you, My King.” She bowed again before looking around, looking the Jotnar in the eye as she looked for the one to start the rumours to step forward, her gaze going to angrboda who was giving her a malicious smirk. Ella returned the look with one of utter dismissal. When she got to one being, she paused. “So, I am curious, why would you state such things...who are you?”

The female Jotunn looked at her shocked. “What…? I never…”

“Don’t lie to me, I can smell one a mile off and considering the situation you are lying with regards, I can assure you, I am not in a gaming mood.” Ella snarled with a ferocity that scared the Jotunn. “Why?”

“I…” She stuttered but for a moment, her glance went to Loki, who was studying them both intently.

“Ah, I see,” Ella smirked. “So, where is this definition of masculinity that I would break my loyalty to my mate for? I am simply dying to meet him. I am expecting quite the specimen of a Jotnar.” She looked around. “Well?”

“It is a being by the name of Kristoff,” Arden informed her.

“I see.” Ella gave a small nod of thanks. “And where can I find this Kristoff?”

“Lurking over in the back, behind the sculpture of my grandfather.” Laufey eyed the Frost Giant in question. “Well, Kristoff, step forward and address the situation.” The King ordered.

Kristoff looked adequately uncomfortable as he was commanded and stepped forward. When he looked at Ella, he could see the analytical look in the Aesir’s face. He stood looking back at her in an almost challenging manner.

Ella studied him for a moment. “I know you to see but I think I only shared a conversation with you just once, I cannot be sure, yet I am supposedly risking everything for you. If this were true, surely you would not look at me with such disdain?”  

Kristoff’s eyes widened. “Disdain?”

“Thinly veiled but there nonetheless. So, why say such things? What would cause me to choose a mate in someone so...well, I can clearly see I am unappealing to you so I do not feel it too controversial to say that you are somewhat unappealing to me, not in looks but in mind. You hid here when other men rushed to Jotunheim’s call to arms. You are one of the only ones to claim excuses as to you not going that seemed very weak. So many males were required here, safety in case the lines fell, medics, farmers, yet you...if I am not mistaken it was a bad back? My, but I must have incredible curative powers I never knew I had obtained if you were supposedly not fit for fighting yet were with me so often...I would rival the best on most realms.”

There was a slight laugh at that.

Kristoff cleared his throat. “Well, you said…”

“Oh, I am going to stop you there. If you dare suggest anything, then before you do, I will get you to answer one thing for me. Where is my scar?”

Kristoff stared at her. “Scar?”

“Yes, I have a large scar on my body, I got it from an ambush attack on my family when I was younger, where is it?”

“I…”

“No, please, if this supposedly has been something that has been occurring, tell me where I am scarred.” His head shook slightly. “Better still, if this has been occurring in the absence of my mate, then you can tell the realm something about me that only I am privy to at this moment, yet I am sure I would have disclosed to you as a mate before now should such liaisons have occurred.”

Silence met her words.

“Nothing?”

“You said to say nothing if caught.”

Ella’s brow rose. “And when was this?”

“When you did that Aesir mouth act first.” Kristoff barked.

For a moment, Ella had no idea what he was referencing before realising. “Oh, right.” She turned to Loki, who seemed to be more than sceptical at everything going on in front of him. “Loki, have I ever, in the time we have been mates, tried to kiss you?”

Loki shook his head. “Not once.”

“Not once.” She repeated before looking at Kristoff again. “So...it’s highly unlikely that I would do such a thing with you.”

The Jotunn’s eyes darted back and forth. Little seemed to be actual words from his mouth as he stuttered bar the word ‘lonely’.

“Lonely? You think I would threaten the foundations of my very word because I was lonely. If I missed my mate so much…” She waved her hand and a second Loki appeared from thin air, though slightly see-through.

“She does not require the company of others.”

All gathered, Loki included, were startled by the ability of the imposter version of the prince to speak exactly as he did.

“I can also do versions of others and I have been able to use my seidr to speak with my mother personally, so try another excuse, I dare you,” Ella snarled.

Kristoff, stunned into silence, said nothing more.

Ella walked forward towards him. Though she was considerably shorter than the Jotunn, she stood tall while he shrunk back slightly. “Why say these lies?”

“I did not li…”

She caused a fiery blade to shoot from her arm as she had before. “Why say these lies?” She repeated, louder than previous.

“Jotunheim deserves…”

“You attempt to upset my house and dare state Jotunheim deserves different?” Laufey growled rising, though feebly from his throne. “I decide what is best for this realm, not you. I have done everything possible to keep the peace since the war and to allow us to prosper once more, as has my son’s mate. She is nothing short of dedicated to us and our realm and shows it time and again. We have just warred and she has personally guaranteed a food supply for us should we have required it.”

“We don’t need those filthy Aesir or their food.” Kristoff spat before glaring hatefully at Ella. “Nor do we need that brutes spawn here, threatening to ruin an already diluted bloodline.”

Loki took a step forward at that, his anger rising at the manner in which Kristoff insulted him, his mate, his father and mother in one comment. “You…” He paused as Ella lifted her hand to stop him, causing him to silence, curious as to the peculiar expression his mate had.

Ella looked to Loki and gave an apologetic smile. “I tried to tell you last night, but you were too tired, you did not hear me or you did not comprehend my words at least.” She turned to Kristoff again. “You mock Loki’s breeding when his character far surpasses your own. You mock my birth family and the family I am gifted as his mate. And you mock any children I would give him. You think you need to be of full Jotnar blood to be worthy of recognition? You are not half the Jotunn my mate is with double the Jotnar lineage. If you loath my mate for his blood, what do you say now?” She used her seidr to alter her dress, choosing a design that showed her abdomen, specifically the rounding it now had due to the child developing in it. “In eight months, I will birth Loki’s heir and you will simply have to deal with that.” She smirked at the disgusted face of the Jotunn who eyed the still ablaze weapon in her hand, seeing him consider his options. She then walked over to the female Jotunn who had started the rumour. “I would suggest the next pairing you try to damage, you consider your actions more carefully. You do not have the wit to do so to those with more intellect than that of a gnat. Loki leaving his interest of angrboda temporarily to toy with you does not equate caring for you. He did not then and he does not now, or can you not take a hint, even a century and a half later?” The female’s gaze fell. “Now that I have had to deal with trying to quell a filthy lie rather than reattempt to find a pleasant way of telling my mate of his impending fatherhood, I am going to leave the court to deal with real matters again. Any who wish to discuss this further should do so in their own time.” She walked out of the room with a similar air as to how she entered using her seidr to repair the doors with fresh ice as she did so.

Loki stood in startled shock trying to process what she had just revealed, from her ability to copy him to her admission that she had been carrying a child.

[ren-c-leyn]

Follower Celebration Story:

As promised, here is the follower celebration story! Thank you very, very much to everyone who sent in words for this. The only word I received a double of was safe, so it will be bolded twice in the story. If I use one of the other words more than once, it will only be bolded the first time. (For those wondering why the word chart is bolded, it was so I could keep track of what words I had and hand’t used while I was writing.)

The word chart:

Feckless, Umbrella, indifference, attentive, vaguely, archetype, diorama, vermilion, Lone, family, angelic, Sally, Safe x 2, Sound, Passion, Adore, Desire, sky, storm, bracelet, resilient, amber, peeling, fangs, fur, claws, abide, lessen, Dynasty, shots, bogwater, Window, Map, Tower, bruschetta, petrichor, disastrous, anachronistic, ethereal, fury, misty, charcoal, greenery, bleach, crown, stuff.

Keep an eye out for the bolded words as you go!

Warnings: This piece does include death, bones, a fight scene, a little bit of blood, but nothing in gory detail. I hope you all enjoy the piece, I had a great time writing this one and am proud of how it turned out =D

~

 The air was thick with the scent of petrichor, and the sky laid heavy with storm clouds, preparing for their second bout of rain. I clutched at my umbrella as I watched the grays of the sky mix with the misty whites that clung to the forest greenery. A terrible day to be the lone traveler.

 Gods know if it wasn’t so important I would have stayed home, safe and sound, by the warmth of my hearth. But no. I had to be out, running errands for the crown.

 A sigh slipped from my lips. No point in complaining about it. I just had to rise to the occasion and sally forth, into the disgusting swampland and get this over with. The sooner I finished the mission, the sooner I could return to my family.

 The trudge through the bogwater and vines would have destroyed a less resilient person. Every step felt like I was being swallowed by the mud. The mist dulled the senses and rendered my map useless. For a long while, I was not sure if I was walking in a straight line or a winding path. The only thing that helped guide me at all was the occasional trees I would stumble into, damp with moss and thin bark practically peeling off at the slightest touch.

 That was the first sign to me that I was on the right path. Or rather, that this path led to something terribly wrong, just as I had been told. The confirmations came steadily after the trees started feeling sickly. The mist darkened first and then the water did. Both of them blackened until they matched the color of charcoal, all the while the water slowly thickened to a paste. All were tells of something disastrous, indeed.

 Time seemed to lose it’s meaning in that place. There was nothing to indicate that it was moving at all, aside from the appalling squelching of my own boots and our seemingly endless battle with the mud. I think I would have gone mad without it, to be frank. Everything seemed to be attempting to rob me of my senses, drain me of my mind. Had I been out there much longer, it may have succeeded.

 However, I found the edge of the black mist before it found the edge of my will. There are no words to describe how absolutely delighted I was to realize that it was thinning, waning. Every fragment of my being had the great desire to see anything besides the deep darkness that seemed to be devouring me.

 I rushed forward with all my speed, sending the dark mud spraying with each heavy step. When I broke out of the mist, my feet hit solid ground and my eyes met with hints of color. The dark greens of moon-kissed grass, the dim twinkle of distant starts, pale stones scattered in the distance, and the grayed silhouette of a great tower.

 A broad smile pulled onto my face as I laughed. The joy, however, was short lived as I stepped forward and onto something that cracked underfoot. My gaze traveled downward only to meet the empty eye socket of a bleached skull. Dread formed a pit in my stomach as I looked up from the bones I was standing on and took a closer look at the rest of the pale ‘stones’. None, in fact, were rocks, but rather... bones.

 I tread lightly as I moved from skeleton to skeleton. Elves, dwarves, humans, male, female, it all varied greatly. The only thing that did not seem to was the terrible cracks and violent tears in the bones themselves. Something powerful did this. Something without mercy nor remorse.

 I swallowed thickly, straightening my cloak before turning my gaze to the tower. My bet was, was the monster responsible for this lived in there, and likely was in possession of my true objective.

 I forced myself to the side of indifference as I stepped past those unfortunate enough to have come before me and towards the tower itself. There was nothing I could do for them now, save perhaps vengeance. And I got the feeling that if I wanted to make it back home, safe and sound, then I would have no choice but to get these people their revenge.

 The tower itself was not the largest I had ever seen, but it was certainly one of the more ornate. Statues depicting mighty beasts sat defiantly on either side of the iron wrought doors, both far from angelic in visage. I did not answer their challenge, at least, not immediately. Instead, I took my time to wander around the perimeter, attempting to get an idea of what I was to face.

The place was peculiar. Almost anachronistic, if I were to put a word to it. The stone work was of ancient designs, almost the very archetype of them. The craftsmanship was similar only to the oldest of the temples in the land, but seemed as fresh as if it were built yesterday. The wild rose vines growing around it, however, were the very embodiment of ancient ruin. Gnarled and unkempt. Some of them even went so far in their defiance of the tower’s perfection to dig into the stones where they were weakest.

 A flash of movement in a window caught my attention, but was gone by the time my eyes had focused in one it. I cursed myself for not being more attentive. It could have been an enemy with a bow, and I would have been doomed. There would have been no dodging such shots unaware from this distance. Thankfully, it had not been, but I believed it was safe to say that I had lost any element of surprise I may have once had.

 A deep sigh escaped me as I turned my gaze up to the ethereal glow of the moon. There was no time left, it seemed.

 I returned to the stone beasts and walked past them to the entrance. Their silent snarls were lost to me as I pushed past the great doors and into the depths of the tower itself. I was greeted with what felt like yet another rift in time, as the interior of the tower was in great disrepair.

 The vermilion carpet was torn and worn down, blood stains long turned brown and rotted in places. Paintings had fallen from the walls, their pictures long faded and frames cracked. There were great claw marks and gouges in the walls and scraps across the dulled flooring. Ruined furniture littered the rooms as I stalked through them, clutching tightly at my staff.

 It was hard to discern exact shapes among the mounds of ruined stuff. I would freeze into place anytime I saw something even vaguely shaped like a beast or a person. By the third or forth room, I was contemplating casting a light spell, but the risk of drawing attention to myself was more than I could abide. Not when it seemed as though something within these walls had a passion for death and destruction. 

 After clearing the first floor, I slowly made my way up the old staircase. There were moments when I feared it would not hold my weight, but it thankfully held firm. I winced at every groan and creak of the decaying wood, however, and prepared myself for a battle.

 But the battle did not come. I arrived safely at the landing of the second floor, and found nothing more than I did on the first floor. Then the third, and the forth, until I reached the fifth floor, where time and reality again seemed to be removed from the tower’s presence. And it was here that I sensed what I had come for as waves of magic energy ebbed down through the halls and to the stairs where I stood.

 The carpet was a darker red, in one piece and untouched by time, only one of the tapestries were torn through with claws, paintings remained hanging, the furniture was whole, everything seemed as it should, except not at all.

 Sparks of magic flitted through the air, casting ominous glows as I checked the floor, room by room. They were dark colors, and almost made crying noises as they phased in and out of existence. Many people mistook such things as spirits of some sort, but they were truly just extra magic that the fabric of reality could not absorb. Nothing to fear themselves, but usually they were the signs that something that should be feared was near.

 In the last room, I found the most curious thing. There was a pedestal with a bracelet upon it, my goal, I assumed. It was a plain, silver one, no markings or jewels of any kind, but the magic energy I felt from it was dizzying. Lesser mages would have fallen to their knees long before they reached this room, but I was not the court mage for nothing.

 After claiming my prize, and sealing it within an enchanted bag to contain it’s power, I spotted something even more odd. On an end table in the corner was what appeared to be a  diorama of the tower itself. I admit that my curiosity got the better of me, beckoning me to have a look. It seemed to be a perfect scale model, everything laid out as I had found it so far, but it didn’t take me long to notice something truly unsettling.

 A little figurine... shaped just like me was standing in the corner of the room, and moving, actually moving, was another figurine, shaped like a monster I had never heard of. Not only was it moving, it was moving down the hallway of the floor I was on, heading straight for this room.

 Fear and adrenaline rushed through my veins as I desperately searched for an escape, or at least a hiding place, but neither were available in this room. I was at the very end of the hall, and I could hear the scraping of claws coming for me. With flight not longer open to me, I turned to face the door, raising my staff as I began to call upon the magic within me.

 “Poor, little, feckless mage,” a deep, growling voice seemed to sing from within the darkness of the hall, “You adore a dying age. The queen’s dynasty shall end, and another will begin.”

 I held the spell, waiting for it to come into view. The little motes of magic flashed in the hall from time to time, illuminating shadows and small flashes, but nothing solid enough for me to know my strike would land true. Then, I saw them, the terrible amber eyes.

 I flung the bolt of ice at it’s head, but it leaped over it and into the room. It was a massive creature, with fangs and claws to match. Pale fur bristled as it laughed, laughed at me.

 “My turn,” it purred, sung, whatever one would call that horrifying voice.

 Then, it came at me with fury enough to give dragons pause. It took every, single bit of my training and experience with battle to so much as lessen the deep wounds it tore into me. I kept the jaws at bay with my staff, or what little of it remained after it took the full force of the first bite. The claws cut through my robes like they were nothing, and aided it in pinning me to the floor. But not even it’s massive bulk could save it at this distance.

 I put my hand to it’s exposed belly and drew on not only my own magics, but those that were floating aimlessly around the both of us. And I set fire to the wretched creature. It shrieked with pain and wrath as it thrashed and rolled. I followed up with lightening and ice and then more fire. It came charging at me, fangs and fury and bloodlust, but I conjured a wall of magic between the two of us that it slammed into.

 “I am the court mage of these lands!” I shouted as the monster wailed in rage. “And you shall pay dearly for the blood you have spilled and the wicked deeds you have committed here.”

 And then, the room went white with the explosion of magic that rattled the tower to it’s core. There was the scream of the monster and then the howl of shattering, collapsing stonework. 

 The walk back was far more pleasant than the walk to the tower, even if I was sorer for it. Between the deep tears the creature left in me, and the bruises and cracked rib I got from the collapse of the tower itself, I felt lousy and just wanted a hot plate of bruschetta, a warm bath, a healer, and some sleep. Frankly, I was beyond caring about which order those came in. But, first thing was first, I had to get back to the castle to have the ruinous bracelet destroyed before it caused the world anymore troubles....

~

Submitter taglist: @1-2-butter-my-shoe, @the960writers, @ducky-writez, @candy687, @silver-wields-a-pen, @whiteomorox, @hyba, @ratherinterestingmilkshake, @bookenders, @leave-her-a-tome, @likelyfantasywriterspsychic, @kaatiba, @aziz-writes, @somethingreallydeepandprofound, @montevena, And, last but certainly not least, @innocentreticent.

 Thank you all again! This was quite the challenge and I had a blast working my way through it ^-^ This story wouldn’t have been possible without your combined and creative word choices.

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[rowan-catsandcoffee]

Mine & Yours | Amon

Fandom: Ikemen Revolution Pairing: Amon Jabberwock x MC Word Count: 1718 Notes: Kabedon, it was started out as starting a makeout scene and devolved into this... not as steamy as I had first planned but I like it Written for: @ikemen-discord-writers Request: Something Steamy with Amon by Anon

MC chuckled as she left Fenrir in his room.  She had dropped off a plate heaped to almost tipping with all of his favorites.  He just refused to partake in the Halloween party.  Apparently the amount of guests who decided to dress up as ghosts were getting to him.  So he deemed it better for him to turn in for the night, though he didn’t want to miss out on all of Luka’s goodies.

Through the windows MC could see the open court yard full of people having fun, doing various traditional party games, dancing, and their usual horsing around.  The party was for the Black Army, guests, and whomever wanted to come from the Black Army territory.  Many people had invited their own significant others, family, and friends.  There was only one person that MC invited.  She had been seeing him around lately.

The man who introduced himself as AJ was tall, scrawny, short tempered, but had such lovely long silver hair and strong brown eyes that made her feel like he remembered every single move she made.  Even if that move was to jab him and reprimand him for suddenly raising his voice and acting like he was entitled to whatever.  Some days were better than others, but he was always able to control himself after she reminded him that he couldn’t just bark orders at her.  He had been doing it less lately and she thought maybe if he made more friends he would be better.  However she hadn’t seen him yet.

For her costume MC had chosen a more fairy like theme, a pale dress that puffed out slightly, a mask that was pearly white that lead into some silver accessories in her hair that Seth had to help her with.  She had wings that spread out to the sides of her, making it a little harder to get around than she’d like.  But judging by how speechless it left some members of the Black army and how much Seth cried seeing her in it, she thought it must have looked lovely on her.  She had hoped to get his response tonight, but-

MC sighed and resigned herself in returning to the party, knowing he wasn’t going to be there, however as she turned another corridor she found herself staring at the back of a man who had long silver hair pulled back in a ponytail.  His outfit had black pants, and an ornate blue suit jacket.  She could see black horns curving and sticking up and probably attached to his mask that he held up with a handle.

“AJ?”  Her footsteps hurried to catch up with him, he spun around with a slight snarl on his face which immediately relaxed when he saw her.

“Alice!  There you are.  I was looking for-“  He moved his mask and looked her up and down a little, “what are you wearing?”

Not exactly the response she was looking for, “it’s it lovely?”

“You’re a very lovely…. Moth.”

“I’m supposed to be a fairy, what about you?”  She pointed at the black mask which now looked like a skull with bull horns coming out of it.

“I modeled it after some stories that I got about the Land of Reason.  I thought you would like it.”  He said as matter of fact unable to see the blush that crept along her cheeks as she considered that he wanted to impress her as much as she wanted to impress him.

“Well, I like it.”

“I’m glad.” He smiled and took a step towards MC which she was surprised that she took a step back instantly.  A nervous flutter in her chest warned her of something.  “Alice…. Come here.”  He murmured in a way that made her insides tighten, and she felt pulled towards him.  His smile widened as she got closer until she stood just outside of arms reach.

“I’m glad you could make it, have you been here long?”

“I just got here,” he glanced out the window, “good to see the party is in full swing.   I was surprised when you weren’t waiting for me and went looking for you.”

“Oh, sorry I was bringing food to Fenrir, he doesn’t really like all of this.”

“I see, so he’s nearby?”

“Just down the hallway.”  MC turned to look in the direction she just came from, being startled as AJ grabbed her wrist and started leading her in the opposite direction.  “AJ?”

“Where is a good place for us to talk?  I don’t want to run the risk of being interrupted.”  He was looking at every room they passed, his grip tightening.  MC stepped toward and intertwined her fingers with his.  He turned to gape at her as she winked and started pulling him.

“This way.”  It wasn’t a long way to the common room.  With everyone out enjoying festivities it was a ghost town, sorry Fenrir.  “Alright, we should be good in here.”

“I’m glad.”  He stepped close to her, and she kept retreating until she felt the thud of her back hitting the wall, and trying to twist and move only caused her wings to scrap against it and complain.  AJ’s slammed his hands on either side of her head, trapping her.

“Alice.” His eyes glinted as he struggled to keep from smiling, “I l-like you.  I would like for you to come with me to my home.  I’d like to introduce you to my family.”

“Oh AJ, I- umm…”  She blushed, gently setting on hand on his arm, pulling on it a little to try and free herself. “I-I like you too, and I’d love to meet your family.  When would be a good time for us to-“

“Tonight, you will come with me tonight.”

“The party isn’t over yet, by the time we head out it would be really late.  So-”

“You don’t seem to be understanding me.”  He stepped closer, finally moving one arm so he could tip her chin up, his body pressed against her as his lips claimed hers.  He nibbled on her bottom lip in between exploring her mouth with his own.  His tongue snaking in and inviting hers to join him, his hand wrapped around her neck gently to keep her from going anywhere at first.  But then assisted him in holding her as his mouth went to tease and nip at her quickening pulse along her neck.  “You will be coming back with me now, and we will be together.”  His voice was husky, and dripped with a desire that echoed in herself.  But-

“No.  I-I won’t.  I will come with you another time to meet them but- this isn’t a good time for me to just disappear with you.”

“I thought you liked me.”  He snarled.

MC stared hard at him.  Pushing him away was relatively easy, and he snarled as she did so.  “I do like you.  But I don’t like you when you’re like this.  I am not going anywhere with you.”

“’No’?”  The chill in his voice sent a shiver through her, her heart back to racing in her neck, though not all that unpleasantly.  She faced him, straightening her back and placing her hands on her hips.

“No.”  She dared him to argue.  She was getting ready to shout him down when she was startled by his laughter.  It was loud and sounded a touch mad, it took a moment for him to stop, but MC got to see the relaxed look on his face as he laughed, the twinkle in his eyes.  It was a joyous look although it was accompanied by a villainous chortle.

“Alice, Alice, my sweet Alice.  It would’ve been better if you came with me night, but-“ He approached her, wiping the tears from his eye.  Taking her hand he swept down low and placed a kiss upon the back of her hand, he squeezed it and smiled up at her.  “I will be patient a little longer.  But only a little.”

“We can just plan another time for me to come over.  Or you could bring your family here!”  MC offered.

AJ shook his head, “no, if we planned it in advance I have a feeling you would get chaperoned and to be honest,” he shot her his lopsided grin, “I do not like sharing you with them.  Or anyone for that matter.”  He brought her hand to his cheek, turning his head he kissed and nipped at her wrist.  “You’re mine.”  Her heart skipped a beat.

“You shouldn’t be saying things like that so freely.  We only just said we liked each other.”

“And I kissed you, and you kissed me.  Alice, say you’re mine, I don’t think I’ll rest at all until I hear you say it.  Tell me that you’re mine.”

“AJ…”  At that point she was sure she was red from head to toe.  “Isn’t that a bit too fast-“

“Not when we only have a little time together, let me enjoy each moment with you, say it.”

She sighed, smiling to herself.  “Alright, if you’ll do the same.”

“What?”  He stilled, his hold on her hand loosening.  He stood up straight, staring at her.

“Say you’re mine too.”  She chuckled at his confusion.  It was only fair if it was both ways.  Slowly AJ stood up, his face a stony mask as his eyes sought her, all of her, as if he was taking in everything that she was, it made her want to hold her breath and wonder about what he was looking for.  Finally he brought her hand up to his chest, and held it there.

“Is that what you really want?”  He asked seriously.  Was there a custom in Cradle that she wasn’t aware of?  Was this more serious than she was thinking it was?

“Yes?”

“Then…”  Tenderly his other hand caressed her cheek.  “I swear to you MC, that I am yours as long as you are mine.”  For some reason she found her eyes starting to tear up as she smiled at him.

“And I am yours, as long as you are mine.”  Echoing those words seemed to be the magic words to get him to relax.

AJ leaned forward, and MC could feel the ghost sensation of his lips on hers.  “Sealed with a kiss.”

[xuzffxiv]

Spellcraft and Glass

Spellcraft and Glass

    “Can anyone tell me the similarities between glass and the beginnings of a spell?”

    No voices bore an answer. The silence in the courtyard broken only by the clamor of the city. Muffled shouts too far to make out, the clang of craftsmen at work. No answers though. The circle of shifted, wavered in discomfort, glances shared between neighbors. None of them bothering to meet the cold gaze of the magistrix in the middle of them. A woman’s voice finally called out,

    “Enough force and they both will shatter.”

    “Close enough. What’s your name?”

    “Vyriali Cinderspear. House Cinderspear. Battlemage.”

    “Ah, a Magister’s daughter. If you didn’t know that, I bet your father would be rather displeased. You have any further insight?”

    “Spells are crafted, they are fragile. You can break them with so little if you know where to put pressure. Unless the spell is tempered, all you need is a nudge in any direction and it disrupts.”

    The magistrix raised her chin, cobalt eyes focused on Vyri. Slender fingers clasped behind her back before she spoke again, “Good. Come by my office later, would you? There are some things we need to discuss. But before that, can anyone else tell me how to stop a spell?”

    Once more the muffled sounds of Silvermoon filled the court. Vyri clenched her jaw before she opened her mouth to speak, but before the words were even on her tongue.

   “You silence them. You bend the arcane in their bodies and wrap in around their throats. Or you starve them, siphon away any mana they attempt to turn against you.” The voice echoed from a far hall, each word followed by the sharp clatter of metal against stone. Nervous chattering erupted in hushed tones as attention wavered from the woman in the middle. Her sapphire eyes closed into narrow slits, brows bending in as one corner on her lip curled in a snarl. The circle parted, a wide opening as the white-haired man came close. Each step sang like the shaking of chains, each footfall was a metallic stomp. Red and gold encased his form that towered over most by a head.

  “So, the Spellbreakers show once more. Lovely, so I assume you are her for --”

   “For her.” The armored and robed man’s final bootfall brought him looming over the magistrix. A thumb hooked over his shoulder, leveled at Vyri. “Knows what she is doing. Don’t know why she even attends these, she’s proven.” A faint azure glow peered over his shoulder towards Vyri, “You want to be a spellbreaker, girl?”

   The darkness broke, a faint green glow just barely visible as it spread over white. Vyri pushed herself up onto her elbows, the glow swiveling about. Silence. The light blinked out as the quiet was ruffled, a sigh so quiet it almost didn’t manage. She shifted, the shush of the sheets following as she tried to pull herself over the edge. Just the right twist made her bite down on a groan. Fingertips trailed over the bindings she felt over her ribs, over the uneven tightness of a not-so second skin. Bare toes pressed over the smoothness of earth and rock.

   How long had she been doing this? Was this how it was always going to be? Traitor princes.. The world seemed to be gathering them. Arthas, Kael’Thas.. Who was going to be the next to throw their people out a window? A sharp hiss press from between her lips as she tried to stand. But she still did, the darkness hiding away the muscles of her jaw working to keep any more noise down. Her gaze just slipping over to the edge of the tent. Another light, a dim purple line. Each step grew the light, made it brighter until her eyes narrowed and she pushed open the tent.     “Cinderspear.. What are you doing up?” The voice familiar, one that had barked at her, called her out, snapped at her. Older, rugged and harsh, time worn from decades of doing what he did best. “Get back to bed, girl. Don’t be daft.”

   “Captain Morrowmourn, Wh--”

   “You don’t want to hear about this now.”

   “I think I do, sir.” Vyri’s jaw set, squinting up at the captain. “What. happened?”

   Morrowmourn’s gaze bore into her, harsh and hard. It lingered there, unmoving, as he chewed on nothingness. Until a grunt broke the silence, “Fine, kid, fine.” One of his gauntleted hands grazed over the short white stubble, “You’ve been… out a while. No idea what actually happened, probably some mechanical bullshit. Point is, we found you. A few others. None of you were in great shape.” Vyri stared up at him, her eyes darting over a stoic face. It was like trying to read stone.

   “Captain… what else?” She stumbled forward, legs still not quite steady, but she kept herself up.

   “The last one, Freeburst, passed. About a night ago.” His hand came down onto her shoulder, “Sorry, kid.” The smooth plate pressed on her shoulder as his hand closed, just enough to be there.

   Vyri shook her head, but it didn’t hide how her brow drooped, it didn’t hide the way her ears fell. Fists balled up into the fabric of her pants, but she didn’t speak. Not for a while. When she finally opened her mouth to speak once more. She was cut off just like that evening.

   “Nothing you could of done. No one could of seen it coming. You’re on leave, my orders. Go home, Vyri. Rest, recover, do whatever you have to, but nothing left here. We got this. So. Go. Home.” Morrowmourn’s hand double tapped her shoulder, thumb digging below her collar and fingers clamping down for just a moment. Then the captain turned away, those unchanged eyes glancing over his shoulder as he walked off. The clattering of heavy armor muffled as if it were coming through water. Vyri looked up then over the Eye. 

   Flurries and swirls of fresh snow cascaded from the trees above. The sounds of the warcamp ringing out and drowning the sounds of the forest. From the clatter of crashing trainees to the call of criers, shouting out wears and news. Vyri sat the the edge, the head of her spear lost in a sea of white. Soft creaks and protests came from the crate below her, but all these sounds never reached her mind. The spellbreaker’s eyes shifted about under closed lids as if reading something long forgotten.

    Scenes from the past few months. The battle of the beard, her holding a choke point. Her company starting to falter, but the Sunguard helped her. The Siege of Sundial, the blood of so many over the stone roads leading to the point, not of the fresh from innocent veins. And once again, she threw herself into a choke point. She flung herself into danger. Blood ran down her face and three Kul’Tirans beared down on her, but the Knight-Commander, Corinth, Zana all came to her aid. Brawling during Mistlefoe and meeting Razail and Thordemar, laughing as she shoved snow down Narridel’s shirt, then winning the tournament.

   The cacophony of to two different worlds collided back into her sense, a sharp blink that shook her from her daydream. Golden eyes looked around at the mask of her home, studying or searching, for a moment. The cold air bit all the way down her throat as she took in a deep breath and slowly brought herself back to her feet. Shouts of familiar people and friends came to her ears. The effort of the smiths and the people around her in a home that is no longer intimate.

   It’s been too long.

   Her feet carried her, sabatons clawing through the stark white sheet, towards the heart of the camp. Faces that were once unfamiliar smiling up at her as she passed. People that were once characters of a completely separate book now friends she saw daily, that she bled next to.

   Enough of this. They fight with everything. They do what must be done. And you, what have you done? Tried to throw yourself away.

   The war council’s tent came into view as she straightened herself up to her full height.

   If you are to protect them, then do so as they do you.

   “Archon, if I may.” Vyri spoke as she raised her chin. The talon tips of her gauntlets scraping along the chainmail of her palms.

   You will not lose them, not again. They’ve done so much for you. Return the favor, kid. Or else, go home and cower.

   “I formally request my own unit of Spellbreakers once more. Allow me to show our enemies that the only thing they hold against us is glass.”

[thejokersenigma]

Joker x Reader Deadly Voice Part 29

Hi Everyone - I want to post this chapter, though I’m not sure how happy I am with it. i keep reading it over and over and editing bits and pieces of it and I’m still not 100% happy with it but I’m also not sure how to truly make it better so I’m just going to bite the bullet and post it.

I apologise if I made Frost too soft - I struggle with his character quite a bit! Also I feel like bits of it are a bit choppy and it doesn’t really flow great, so sorry for that too!

I hope you enjoy it anyway!

I appreciate all your support and I love any feedback!

(I honestly can’t believe how many followers I’ve got so thank you sooooo much!)

Masterlist

Frost didn’t come back that day. When I had finally closed the door on him I had just broken down, finally letting the tears flow freely. It took me a while to calm down, I had trusted him, but why had I? There was nothing about him that should have made him trustworthy – look what he did for a living! Why had I even fallen for it?

After spending most of my day debating back and forth I finally went to my shift at the pub that evening. I was worried Frost would be waiting for me there - having somehow tracked down my job rota – and wanted to corner me somewhere public so that I couldn’t run without causing a scene. But I knew that I couldn’t live in fear of him forever – I had a job and I needed the money, my funds from my previous job having run low from my travelling and rent – so I had sucked it up and gone.

I was not regretting it however, having spent my shift constantly listening for the door - my head snapping over to it whenever it was opened. I was so jumpy I was asked several times if I was okay by the other waitresses - none of whom seem to believe me when I tried to reassure them.

Hannah was also there that evening. When I saw her start her shift behind the bar I felt my anger flood instantly back into me. She was the reason I was going through all this torment with Frost. “Bitch.” I muttered under my breath as I cleaned a particularly sticky table. The best thing for me to do now was to completely ignore her. Silent treatment was the only punishment I would allow myself to deal out to her, anything more satisfying would be frowned upon in a court of law, I thought bitterly.

Something in me seemed to have seriously changed.

She didn’t seem to notice any change in me though – we barely spoke anymore now anyway since the newspaper incidence. Though we agreed to put it behind us, things were still awkward.

I tried to keep my mind of her and Frost throughout the shifts the next few days – though it never seemed to really work and it was mentally exhausting, causing me to collapse in bed each night with a pounding headache.

After a week of no sight or sound from Frost - but still hours of torment on my behalf - I presumed he had left town. Whether he had moved on or gone back to Gotham I didn’t know and was trying not to care.

I was close now to getting enough money to finally be able to move on from this small life and start once again - now having handed in my two week notice to my boss. To celebrate, I was allowing myself a chance to finally relax by nursing a cup of tea curled up in my armchair reading an old favourite book of mine. I was taking a sip from my mug when I heard a knock at the front door. I frowned wondering who it could be, I presumed it must have been the farmer – I had asked him to come over when he was free so that we could talk about my final rent payment – I was paying him a bit extra for my sudden departure.

I put my book down in the arm of the chair and pushed myself reluctantly out of my chair, heading to the front of the house.

I unlocked the door and pulled it open to see Frost stood on the doorstep. I immediately slammed it shut.

“[Y/N!” He called through the wood, hammering repeatedly on the old door.

“What don’t you get about going away?!” I shouted at him. He stopped knocking.

“What don’t you get about moving?” he retorted back loudly.

“I’m -,” I paused, searching my brain for an excuse, not wanting to tell him - out of pride - that I had been too low on funds,  something he was probably unfamiliar with – I imagined his previous job paid relatively well. “Hang on! Have you been watching me?!” I cried in realisation at what his words meant. I couldn’t believe it – trust Frost to not only still be in town, but to also be following me without me even knowing. “And if you must know,” I said curtly, “these things require a certain amount of planning!”

“[Y/N] just let me in.” Frost groaned through the door.

I rolled my eyes in frustration and pulled the door open again, wide enough to get a good look at him, but I made sure to fill the doorway so he couldn’t barge past me again. “I thought you left town.” I said through gritted teeth.

“I will. But I need you to hear me out.” He said.

“If what I need to hear are more excuses as to why I need to go back to Gotham and to that psychopathic killer, then no.” I snapped, slamming the door in his face and stalking down the hallway to the opposite end of the house - ignoring his persistent knocking and shouting – and settling back into my chair where my tea and book awaited.

It went silent and I breathed a sigh of relief. He must have finally got the gist and left – thank God.

“{Y/N] please-“

“Jesus!” I shouted jumping out of my arm chair and instinctively spinning and flinging my book at Frost where he stood in the doorframe of my lounge. The hardback hit his chest before falling limply to the floor, without producing any reaction from him. I clutched at my chest as my heart pounded frantically and I shook with the adrenaline in my veins. How the bloody hell was he in my house?! He’d scared the life out of me! When I realised exactly what he must have done my temper flared and I gritted my teeth in anger as I rounded on him. “What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing!” I screamed at him, “You can’t just bloody break into my house like that!”

“I didn’t.” He said calmly.

“What do you bloody mean you didn’t – you’re – you’re in my house!” I shrieked, flailing my arms wildly.

“I just went through your back door – you’re garden gate wasn’t lock and your back door was open.” He defended.

“And you think that’s justifies you just walking in my house when I clearly don’t want you here?!” I yelled, advancing on him with clenched fists – my fury clouding any sane judgement of mine.

He held his hands out in surrender at my menacing movements, though I doubted I could do much damage to him – though I was sure going to give it a try.

“[Y/N], I just want to talk.” He stated clearly to me, backing up slightly to show he didn’t want to fight me – as we all knew I was the one that was going to end up hurt most likely.

“You’ve already spoken.” I spat, “You said all you needed to say. I don’t need any more of your damn lies!”

“I haven’t lied.” I hated how composed and passive he was being - it just irked me more.

“Prove it.” I snarled at him.

“How am I supposed to do that?” He questioned, raising his eyebrows at me.

“I don’t care.” I barked, “I’m not the one that wants to be listened to!”

“Don’t you think if I had told the Joker you were alive he would have come and got you himself?” Frost posed at me quickly, still attempting to avoid confrontation.

I paused in my movements, considering this for a moment, “Maybe I just don’t mean that much him – I’m only a ‘toy’ to him after all.” I pointed out, sourly

“Only a toy?” Frost repeated back at me, “[Y/N], trust me, you are not just a toy to him.” He insisted.

“Sure bloody feel like one.” I muttered.

“Do you think he’d jump into a river after a toy?” Frost asked, “Do you think he’d carry the gun of a ‘toy’ around with him everywhere?! Do you think he paid millions to Penguin for a toy?!”

I stood sulkily staring at the door frame next to Frost whilst he rattled off at me, but I abruptly shot my head up when he mentioned the money and  Penguin, “When did he pay millions for me?!”

Frost paused, breaking off his tirade to look at me properly, “When he got you out of the contract with Penguin.”

“What?”

“Penguin never told you?” I didn’t answer but my blank stare into space could have spoken for me.

“When was this?” I questioned faintly.

“About 2 days before you jumped.” He answered almost softly, which would have surprised me had I not be numb from shock.

I tried to think back to when exactly this had happened. 2 days before I had put my plan into action must have been the day that Penguin had told me he was planning to rent me out. That was the night the Joker had visited my dreams. Had I somehow subconsciously known he was in the building? Was that what caused my nightmare that night? Did it really matter? Either way I was free.

I had been free the whole time. Penguin had never told me, maybe he had hoped that I would just continue to work for him, never asking about the contract and never attempting to break it – therefore never having to tell me.

Why hadn’t the Joker sought me out to explain what he’d done? Maybe because you ‘killed’ yourself before he could, chimed in the snide voice in the back of my head.

But why had he got me out of the contract in the first place? What good did it do him? I couldn’t believe he would do something nice without expecting something from me in return. Was that why he got so annoyed at Penguin when I jumped off the bridge?

But maybe this was all just another lie from Frost. “You honestly expect me to believe that the Joker would do something out of the kindness of his heart?” I snorted in disbelief.

“I do believe he expected something from it.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

“You.”

“That’s not even funny.” I sneered.

“It wasn’t supposed to be.” Frost stated steadily, ignoring my bitter attitude.

“He doesn’t seriously expect to buy me?!” I exclaimed.

“I don’t know what he was thinking and I never try to.” He admitted.

I rolled my eyes at this unhelpful point. “Well if that’s all,” I snapped, “can I please now insist that you leave.” I said moving towards him once more in an attempt to herd him into the hallway.

He stood his ground so I had to stop before I walked into him. I let out deep sigh of annoyance and tried to curb the desire to stamp my feet like a 3 year old.

“Frost!” I groaned “Why won’t you just leave me in peace?!”

“Because, [Y/N]” he started and I thought I noticed a flash of emotion in his eyes, “when I left the Joker I knew there was something seriously wrong. I knew he cared about you but I only realised how much when you left. I was certain the only way to return things to normal was you. But you were dead.

So when I saw you the other night in the pub you can understand how surprised I was, and - I’m not going to lie - initially I had it in my mind to get you back to Gotham  - or at the very least tell him. But, then I saw how you seemed to be doing so well without him and – I guess” He shrugged, grudgingly, “I have slightly grown to like you to and I know how much he tortures and mistreats people and – for some reason - I didn’t want to take you back to that.” He admitted, clearly slightly baffled by everything he was saying, but feeling like he needed to say it anyway. I could feel a lump of emotion forming in my throat again as I listened to his words, my heart beginning to feel raw again.

“But then we spoke.” He continued, “That’s when I saw it – mainly when we spoke about him. You miss. You’re broken just like he is. You need him. You –“

“Enough Frost!” I cried smacking my hands repeatedly against his chest. “No! Don’t pretend to know what I’m feeling or what I need! You don’t know me!” Angry tears threatened once again in my eyes and I wished I would stop breaking down in front of him. I let my hands slap against his chest one more time before I just let them remain there, my fingers curling into his black shirt and -without thinking about it - I let my forehead rest between my hands on his solid upper body. He fell silent as I took deep shuddery breaths to fight the sobs that threatened in my throat. I couldn’t deal with this right now. I didn’t want to hear it.

Eventually I pushed myself off him, wiping my eyes and trying to look him in the face with some dignity, though my vision was blurry. “Please.” I shakily exhaled, “Just leave.”

He seemed to understand that, in my state, there was no use hanging around trying to convince me otherwise of intentions. He stepped back reluctantly into the hallway and let me pass as I moved in front of him, sniffling as I led the way to the front of the house. When I pulled open the front door he stepped out without a word, but as I went to close it he put his foot in the way. I scowled at his shoe and slammed the door against it several times but he didn’t move or even appear to flinch. “I am honestly only going to say one more thing.” He said, interrupting my assault, and I looked up at his face. He sighed as though it was difficult to say, “This isn’t good for anyone – not you, not him, not Gotham. It’s going to kill one of you – mostly likely him.” I stared at Frost’s honest face with watery eyes, pleading for him to make sense to my chaotic mind. “My point is [Y/N],” he persisted, “don’t be surprised if one day he’s gone. You won’t see him ever again.”

“I don’t plan on it.” I snarled at him, but the water welling in my eyes diminished the fury in my voice.

“But at the moment you still have the option.” Frost pointed out logically, seeming to return to his frowning-unemotional self, “There is nothing stopping you from going to him at this very moment, apart from you. Soon that may no longer be possible.” And with that he withdrew his foot and I fell forward, not realising I had been leaning on the door until it began to close after him. I pulled it open but he was already half way across the yard and I no longer knew what I wanted to call out to him.

Instead I turned around, wiping at my eyes and closed the door behind me. My legs were weak now and I didn’t have seem to have the energy or motivation anymore to move from the spot I stood on. So I pressed my back against the door and allowed my legs to give way beneath me so I sat slumped on the prickly doormat, my head resting on the wood behind me as I stared up at my uneven ceiling.

What the hell had just happened? Why can’t Frost just leave me alone and stop making me feel so shit? Was what he said true? Did he really think the Joker was doing all of this because he though I was dead? Was it true that the Joker’s death was so imminent now? Was he really being that stupidly reckless? My head spun with questions and I gripped the sides of my head, scrunching my eyes closed, trying to ease the pounding with the pressure my hands.

Did I care enough for him, miss him enough, love him enough, to save him? If, of course, I was indeed the reason he was doing this? Could I really just hand myself back to the pyscho? I thought opening my eyes once more and letting my hands drop away so they hung loosely in my lap, my head whirling with hopelessness. Would anything have changed or would he be just as cruel, just are malicious as he had been to me before?

But even if he was, could I just let him die anyway? I thought he’d been dead before and, for some reason – still unknown to me - I had been heartbroken. And, as much as I hadn’t wanted to admit it to him or to myself, Frost was right. I did miss the Joker. A lot. I had tried to fight it but something had snapped in me and I could see it clearly now.

Damn it. I loved him. I thought closing my eyes in defeat against my own mind.

I still didn’t understand it. I couldn’t see how I possibly could find anything to love in that man, but I did. There was something there and I was going to have to except it. The question was what did I do about it? Did I live here, safe from him but both of us miserable and me lonely and searching for something I would never find, or did I go back – possibly putting my own self in danger and subjecting myself to a lifetime of manipulation and brutality?

I let my head fall forwards so my chin lay on my chest, my eyes now open and watching my hands in my lap. Surely I was better off alone; surely Gotham was better off without him? Shouldn’t I deal with the fact that he would die if it meant that all of Gotham was safe from him? Wasn’t that the right thing to do? The greater good and all that?

But now that I thought of Gotham and its people I could almost slap myself for not thinking of them sooner. Their lives were being destroyed and ruined by this madman – possibly because of me. Sure he might die, but if he didn’t and I didn’t return then he would continue to wreak havoc on innocent lives. I owed it to the city I loved to do what I could to stop the carnage the Joker was causing – even if that meant putting myself back in his firing line.

I swung my head upright to face forward.  Was that it then? Had I decided? Was I going back to Gotham?

I guess I was. Whether I had decided this because I couldn’t let helpless civilians be killed because of me, or because I couldn’t stand the idea of him dying, I didn’t know or pause long enough to give myself the true answer.

I was going back to Gotham.  

I pushed myself up to my feet energetically – the confrontation of everything I had been supressing and my new resolve giving me a new sort of energy. I needed to figure out what I had to do now and Frost was the best person to help. How long had I been sat there thinking about all this? How far could he have gotten? I spun on my heel and wrenched open the door - ready to run down the land by my house in search for the henchman - only to find Frost stepping up to my front door, breathing heavily.

“Frost!” I exclaimed in surprise - and if he noticed my mood change from only a few moments ago he didn’t say anything.

“[Y/N] – I know I said-“ He started and the look on my face soon wiped away any relief I had upon seeing him.

“What is it?” I asked in bewilderment, wondering why he was in such disarray and why he looked so worried. Instead of answering he thrust his phone at me. I tried to look around the device at Frost to ask what this was all about, but then I noticed what was on the screen - It was an online news article from the Gotham Gazette.

The headline read ‘Joke’s Over?’