#The more I draw Seb the more and more I make him look like Nigel Mansell. I swear that wasn’t intentional! 😂

[avida-heidia-5]

Guess what?

Here’s some more fanart of There Is Thunder In Our Hearts, Baby by @kaossbells!!! Yes, I’m back at it again! 🤪

These two scenes are from Chapter 8:

🚗 Caught Red-Handed (or 😇 Golden Haired Halo Boy!):

🐙 Hugtopus Pt. 2:

(Get ready for some cuteness overload!)

They’re all very basic, but that’s okay because that means I’ll be saving myself up for something bigger and more challenging in the future. This year’s doodling adventures is going to be interesting. 😏

I also want to give a big thank you to Liz (the author of this wonderful series) for helping me out with the last scene. ❤️ She kindly showed me her Hugtopus so I could use it for reference. It’s so cute! I want ooooone!!!!! 😭😭😭

[iwhumpyou]

Secrets (Part 2)

Masterlist.  Bastard.

Taglist: @whumps-the-word

Part 1.

~#~#~#~#~#~

“Where is Reina, mother?” Nigel said, his eyes narrowing.  He looked at the end of his patience.

Well, that was fine, because Mercia was his mother and she knew how to counteract him.  “I haven’t eaten her, if that’s what you’re asking.” Reina needed more rest and more healing and Mercia was a bit concerned as to her children’s suddenly bipolar emotions. Nigel was cold and Kyra was indifferent, Richard was avoiding her like he was keeping a secret, Elizabeth walked around with torn lips and red-rimmed eyes, and Seb still flinched if anyone made sudden movements.

No, the girl didn’t need to deal with all of this drama.  She could sleep, and heal, until Mercia had solved this particular problem.

“Mother,” Nigel nearly hissed and Mercia had to conceal her smile behind her book.

She lowered it and faced him when she had control over her face again.  “Nigel,” she mimicked and Nigel’s expression grew darker.

“Mother, no one’s seen Reina in two days.  No one’s seen her since the attack.  Aren’t you the slightest bit concerned that a member of your household is missing?” 

“Not really,” Mercia said, turning back to her book, because it was the truth.  She knew exactly where Reina was, and so wasn’t concerned at all.

“I know you hate her,” Nigel hissed and Mercia lowered her book again, her smile gone.  She had never heard that tone of voice from her son before.  “I know you don’t want her here, but there is a big difference between not wanting a reminder of your husband’s infidelity and wishing her dead.  She didn’t do anything, mother, and you cannot put the sins of the father on her head!”

“And when did I say that I wished her dead?” Mercia asked, her voice flat, because she had hated the child but had never went that far.

“You didn’t need to say it,” Nigel spat out, venomous, “The whole castle can see it.  Everyone knows that you wanted to push her off the castle ramparts and the only thing stopping you was some sense of propriety.  You wanted her dead and gone and – what a coincidence – she’s gone!”

Mercia waited until her son had finished his rant, waited until his poisonous words lingered in the air, waited until he drew himself together and shot her a particularly foul glare.  “I am your mother,” she said, and her icy tone was the only thing holding her anger back, “I am the lady of this castle.  And you will not speak to me like this.”

“Like what?” Nigel said, angrier than she’d ever seen him, “Like telling the truth?  Where is Reina?!”

“I told you that she was not your concern,” Mercia said, simply and coldly, “I told you that I was in charge of her welfare.  If you make me tell you another time, the consequences will not be pleasant.”  She snapped her book closed.  “There are a hundred things to do to renew the castle’s defenses and you still have time to come here and question me?” 

“She’s my sister,” Nigel said, and there was something else in his tone now.

“Your half-sister,” Mercia reminded him.  (Your cousin, she said in her head.)

“She’s my sister,” Nigel suddenly fell to his knees and Mercia startled up in shock.  He balled his hands into fists as he stared at the ground. “She’s my baby sister and I couldn’t keep her safe.”

“Nigel…”

“Not when we went to rescue Seb.  Not when the castle was attacked,” and now he looked up at her and Mercia froze at the tear tracks on his face.  “Not even from you,” his voice broke.

For a long moment Mercia didn’t know what to say, because so much of Nigel’s behavior was clear now. He thought he needed to work against her and he had, trying to shield Reina from her while fulfilling all his other duties. Presumably he’d conveyed this to Reina as well, but the girl, as teenagers typically do, hadn’t heeded his instructions.  His fury was at what he thought was his continual inability to shield his sister from his mother and Mercia felt a part of her wail at the thought that she had, in some part, contributed to this state of affairs.

“Oh, Nigel,” she reached out a trembling hand and Nigel accepted it, even if he made no move to lean into her embrace, “I should’ve talked to you before this.  I had no idea you were feeling this way.”

“What good would talking have done?” Nigel said, his voice toneless with exhaustion, “You hate her. You wanted her gone.”

“Nigel, I’ve never raised a hand to your half-sister,” Mercia told him gently, but firmly, “But I cannot say that I’m particularly fond of her.  She is a reminder of the worst night I’ve ever had and also of the worst betrayal I’ve suffered.  It is…difficult to look upon her face.  She looks so much like what Diana would have.”

“She looks like Diana?” Nigel startled up at that, something deeper than concern in his eyes.

Mercia sighed, because she’d never told anyone that before.  She and the midwife were the only two people who’d seen her stillborn daughter – the resemblance to a younger Reina was uncanny, so much so that Mercia had checked when the bastard (the girl) had first shown up.

The crushing disappointment at the results of the test may have been the tipping point.

“Very much so,” Mercia told him, “But that doesn’t change anything.  I told you that I’m responsible for the welfare of my subjects so it’s not your job to worry about her.  You have other things to worry about.”

Nigel drew away from her, his face drawing back into suspicious lines, “If you promise me one thing.”

“What is it?”

“That I will see her again.” By the gods, when had her kids become so melodramatic?

“Yes, I promise that you’ll see her again.”  She turned back to her book, a clear dismissal and Nigel finally left.  His face had relaxed somewhat from the icy, blank features he’d been sporting, but he still looked slightly suspicious of her.

Mercia wanted to scowl – her own son didn’t trust her, all because of –

No.  No, it wasn’t because of the girl.  Her son didn’t trust her because of her own actions and even if the girl was the catalyst, she could not lay her own sins upon her head. She could not teach her children that everything that happened to them was someone else’s fault.  She could not teach them that blame was simply a burden that weighed other people.  Responsibility was the tenet of rulers and Mercia was the lady of the castle, the ruler of the Valley of Eris.

~#~

Part 3.