#a old fae unable to understand how much his son loves him and how much he’s willingly to risk his life for his father

[selsieeeo]

Love Like You but in Lilia’s POV (Steven Universe)

[llondonfog]

let's make no mistake about it, i genuinely find lilia one of the most fascinating characters in twst— a 700 yr old fae who spent centuries as the most revered general of briar valley, confidant to the royal family, did an about-turn to fatherhood immediately upon finding an abandoned baby and now romps around a school campus with said son and the heir apparent to the draconia family pretending to be 680 years younger than he actually is???? fucking insane.

we know absolutely nothing about his own personal life; no immediate family to speak of (besides his adopted son), and we can safely assume they're no longer among the living. we have no idea what his own childhood was like, but i think we can extrapolate by the way that he initially raised silver that it wasn't conventional. were tensions always so high between fae and humans, did lilia simply grow up in a time where war was a common occurrence, that to serve in the briar valley army was the obvious path to take? we can only gather bits and pieces about his previous lifestyle from his card lines, and it would seem that his life prior to silver was a harsh one, with little to no time for personal amusement or exploration of interests.

and one doesn't just become a renown general fitting for the history books by simply leading an army for so many years— it's clear that he was so very good at it. did he too share the fae consensus that humans were not to be trusted, and if so, at what point did that begin to change? was it truly raising silver that altered his perspective? and more to that point, can we assume that he was truly looking for the boy as his new card title suggests? and if so, why? was it for silver's unique magic, did he really come from royalty, was he considered a threat to the draconias? does any of this have to do with the disappearance of malleus' parents so many centuries prior??

i'm so torn between the idea of lilia being instructed to find and raise silver for some greater purpose and over time, realizing how much he's grown to care and love the child, versus the idea of somehow this little baby being enough to give the fierce general pause, to take him in as his own. i also wonder if lilia even proclaimed himself as silver's father to begin with, or if that's simply a title silver gave him on his own and only then did the ramifications of what he meant to the boy truly sink in. it must have been such a shock, the realization that a human could look up at him with such pure love and think of him as a father— for what does he know of rearing a child, and a human one at that? lilia himself even admits this at countless points, and the more we learn of silver's childhood, the more clear it becomes that while the mutual affection is truly there, the understanding of how to properly care for another being of any kind is clearly lacking.

which is understandable when we think of lilia's past experiences— he was simply a guardian, a 'bodyguard' to an extent to malleus, and someone who intervened to provide the kind of life lessons and guidance that an absent father figure could no longer give. but he did not raise the prince, nor was he responsible for caring for him daily. if what we know so far is to be believed, there was little to no time of lilia's role as a general to his departure and caring for silver. for once in his life, he gets to taste the unfettered freedom of no longer shouldering the weight of a nation's protection, and to be frank, goes a little mad with it. it makes sense why he was cavorting around the world while leaving silver at home, he simply never got to enjoy these freedoms before and perhaps selfishly took advantage of that fact while neglecting the ramifications of leaving a child to care for itself (especially one with a narcoleptic condition).

(and even now he kind of seeks that familiar comfort of warfare— we see him gaming as a kind of warlord with idia, which makes sense that he was unable to fully part with that portion of his identity if it truly made up his entire persona for nearly 600 years.)

anyways all this to say that i have no doubt that lilia truly cares for silver. but i think there's something to be said for fae emotional differences, and that he massively underestimates or doesn't know how to acknowledge that silver loves him before even himself. that the things he does to his family (re halloween, his departure party) are ignorantly cruel at best. at the same time, how could you blame him? as a general and being accustomed to loss of life, what is the use of a long, drawn out goodbye? and to have spent the majority of his life in such a mindset, it's understandable, even if reprehensible, to apply this logic to silver, malleus, and sebek. on the flip side, how utterly fascinating how lilia seems to be fooling himself with these forced and abrupt goodbyes— he admits it himself that he fears becoming weak before his family, that vulnerability so at odds with the kind of power and strength he wielded for years.

i have absolutely no idea what the next part of ch7 will bring us, but i really cannot wait to explore more of lilia in his general years, at the height of his glory. and i really do hope that we get the truth of what we all know— his happiest dream, his sweetest memory, being that of when he found silver at last. how fitting would that be, especially for silver who had wept miserably to malleus about his failures to lilia as his son. how fitting to know that lilia does not see him in that way, that his happiest moment that he would choose to relive and dream is the one where he gathers up silver in his arms, and inevitably sets in motion his course to become his father.

[simlit]

18, 19, 22, 23 for my son zeh

What is one thing that they only let those closest to them see?

Realistically, there aren't that many people in Zeh's life. He had a sheltered childhood, and afterwards, has spent most of his time solo traveling. So honestly, no one sees much of anything about him. Getting to know him at all is a feat. Most people wouldn't even know what he looks like or realize who he is if he didn't have such a very particular appearance. So, I think the only real answer to the question is that the few who get close to him, actually see his personality. He's not particularly withholding of anything, as in, he doesn't specifically try to hide certain aspects of himself. He's silent, but an open book, so to speak, so there isn't anything in particular he saves for only one person.

How would their life be different if they had never met their partner?

Complicated to answer, because it depends who you consider his partner. Had he never "met" Varya, his life would only be different circumstantially. I don't think he'd ever have experienced romantic love, but that's not really something he requires. His life is certainly better for having Varya, but not different. However, Varya isn't the most pivotal part of, nor the most important person in Zeh's life. Had he never met that person, I think he would have carried on much the same as he is at the very beginning of the novel. Cold, indifferent and bitter. Unable to understand the sentiments of others or sympathize with their plights. He would live a very mechanical life, and thus, never accomplish his own goals, making him both unhappy and resentful.

What is some advice or guidance they received that had a big impact on their lives or outlook? Was it a positive or negative impact?

Zehel holds a lot of misconceptions about people. Despite being as old and well-traveled as he is, he can be very naïve. His opinions are shaped by the fact that he was incredibly sheltered as a child, but also that he grew up in an age of peace. But he is both an elf and a dragon, so he is arrogant, and he holds grudges. It's only after meeting Eifra and having the younger halflyn point out to him that good and evil come in all shapes and sizes does he start to realize how narrow his outlook had been prior.

What sort of routines, rituals or rules do they have or set for themselves?

He has a very stringent set of standards for himself; rules that he cannot break. This is to maintain a body of purity that he believes is required for him to become Celaedian. One being he can only eat meat in true form; two, he does not drink; three, he remains celibate; and four, he cannot kill what is not corrupt (i.e. humans, fae or animals).

[wolken-himmel]

In which Prince Silver pricks his finger on a spindle's needle and falls into eternal slumber. Princess (Y/n) now has to fight a scary dragon and slice her way through a thorn barrier to get to her prince.

Only a true love's kiss can awaken her sleeping beauty.

[This is Part (2/2); Part (1/2) can be found here.]

"Where are we going, old man?"

Silver let out a tired yawn as Lilia excitedly pulled him up a spiralling tower, Sebek and Malleus following behind them closely. The tower was dark, a stark contrast to the loud fireworks going off and the lively singing outside of the building. The people seemed to be celebrating something, the reason for their fest being unknown to Silver.

Lilia briefly turned around to shoot Silver a bright smile. "To your home!"

Silver furrowed his eyebrows, scratching the back of his neck. "But this isn't our cottage..." he muttered under his breath, not understanding what Lilia was implying. Speaking of the cottage — his true home — he was supposed to meet you there in less than an hour, when it would strike midnight. So, why was he here instead of impatiently waiting for your visit back at the cottage?

Sebek took a deep breath, recalling the explanation he had practiced for years already — for this very day and moment. "Silver, today is your seventeenth birthday, and it is today that you find out about your true heritage," Sebek explained, his voice proudly booming through the tower. "You're the prince of this kingdom, beloved son of King Deuce and Queen Acette. We three were just supposed to take care of you until your seventeenth birthday came, on which the young master's grandmother cursed you to fall into eternal slumber."

Silver dug his heels into the stone and stayed still on the very final step of the staircase before reaching a small room with only one door left to it. "But— I'm not a prince!" Silver cried out whilst desperately trying to wind himself out of Lilia's tightening grip.

Malleus hummed, causing Silver's struggling to cease immediately. "Yes, you are," the dragon fae said in a calm and composed tone. "And it is your obligation to marry the princess of the neighbouring kingdom, over which King Epel rules. You've been promised to one another ever since your birth."

Silver's eyes widened, and an expression of horror flashed across his face. "I can't marry some princess!" he yelled out, finally pulling his hand out of Lilia's. Yet, there wasn't much more he could do as his three guardians forcefully led him through the door to the left, entering a bedroom that seemed clean yet lifeless. "I'm in love with another girl already—"

Lilia quirked an eyebrow and put his hands onto his hips. "Oh?" he snarled playfully. "Did we not tell you not to speak to strangers?"

Silver lowered his gaze to the floor, unable to meet his guardians' shocked and slightly disappointed faces. "I couldn't help myself..." he admitted after a long while of awkward silence. His eyes sparkled with adoration and genuine admiration as he raised his eyes once again. "She was just so beautiful and kind — how could I resist? The prettiest pair of (E/c) eyes and shimmering (H/c) hair."

Lilia let out a little giggle as he patted Silver's head. "You got a bad case of young love, huh?" the bat fae asked while Sebek playfully nudged the prince's shoulder. Lilia let out a sigh as he gazed out of the window to see the stars sparkling away, realising that their talk had to come to an end. "Anyway, we'll talk about this later... you need to wait in your old bedroom now until midnight strikes. Once the new day arrives, the prophesied curse will be invalid."

Silver let out a little whine as his three guardians left through the door they had entered through, one by one. Eventually, he was left all alone, lonely and cold, only longing for your warmth and bright (E/c) eyes to cheer him up. "I want to see (Y/n)..." he whispered to himself, standing by the fireplace with his back turned to it. "She said she would visit me at our cottage tonight..."

Sebek had to hold Malleus back from reentering the room to comfort the sullen boy, who today had learnt that he was a long-lost prince. Just standing outside didn't feel right to Malleus, and he had the horrible feeling that something would go wrong very soon.

As Sebek was busy handling an unnerved Malleus, Lilia laughed softly and kept his pointed ear pressed against the wooden door. "We'll just be outside of your room, Silver darling," Lilia chimed, smiling that seventeen years of hard work had paid off now.

Silver let out a sigh whilst wrapping his arms around himself. "(Y/n)..." he whispered to himself, his heart aching at the thought of missing your meeting. He had looked forward to it so much, too! His grumbling was disturbed by a sudden cold wind sweeping through the tower room. The young man raised his gaze to find the formerly closed-off fireplace revealing a mysterious passageway. "Oh? A green light?"

Silver found himself be lulled into a trance as his legs began to move on their own accord, carrying him towards the green light that the fireplace had just revealed to him. He felt the need to follow the enigmatic light, causing him to climb a staircase until he stood in front of an eerie-looking spindle wheel.

Voices in his head told him to come closer and closer — right until his hand hovered above the sharp needle of the spindle wheel. His wide and lifeless eyes glazed over by a green sheen, he brought his finger down, as if on command, and pricked his finger.

Once the tip of the needle penetrated his skin, Silver's eyes fluttered closer, and he fell to the floor in one sweeping motion. His hair sprawled around his head on the cold stone floor, he slipped off into a dreamless slumber that was more of a prison than paradise.

Only a few minutes after, Malleus, followed by his other two companions, stormed inside the small attic of the tower. He had succeeded in freeing himself of Sebek's hold and had immediately stormed after Silver due to the dreadful feeling never leaving his mind.

And indeed, his gut feeling was right when he found their boy peacefully sleeping away on the floor, his face relaxed and his limbs unmoving.

"Silver!" Malleus cried out as he fell to his knees. Cradling the silver-haired boy close to his chest, heavy tears threatened to spill out of Malleus' eyes. "I knew we shouldn't have left him alone..."

"Malleus—" Lilia tried to say, but was interrupted when the dragon fae's eyes landed on the spindle wheel that basked under the moonlight innocently.

Malleus froze and went rigid, a flood of memories and accompanied guilt overtaking his mind. Pressing Silver close to him, violent sobs escaped his throat. "This is my grandmother's beloved spindle wheel," he pressed out through stutters, "that I kept hidden as a memory from the king when he destroyed every spindle wheel in the country."

Lilia knelt down beside Malleus when he realised that the young one was growing more and more unstable. "No, Malleus... this isn't your fault," Lilia said softly while putting a hand onto the other's shoulder. "You couldn't have known."

Tears clouded his vision, yet Malleus kept on furiously shaking his head. "I'm the sole reason why Silver is forced to sleep for a hundred years now..." he muttered under his breath, his sobs turning into animalistic growls that left Lilia and Sebek worried. "I'm... I'm at fault!"

Lilia took a precautionary step backwards, knowing that Malleus was on the brink of losing control. Yet, Sebek couldn't bear to see his master be hurt by such a tragedy. So, putting his hands on Malleus' shoulders, Sebek tried to catch the other's raging eyes. "No, young master," Sebek cried out, feeling the pain that Malleus felt, "don't say that—"

Malleus suddenly jumped to his feet, and Sebek barely was able to catch Silver's lifeless body in his own arms. Lilia opened his mouth in alarm when Malleus stumbled down the stairs again, wings already growing on his back and scales already becoming visible on his hands and exposed patches of skin. "Get away from me!" Malleus growled as he disappeared from their sight.

Sebek looked at Lilia for help, helpless as he carefully picked Silver up into his arms. Lilia took a deep breath once the sound of a mighty dragon roaring in the distance filled his ears. "Come on, Sebek... let's bring Silver to his bed—" Lilia mumbled as he led the way to Silver's bedroom. "Then we need to make the whole kingdom fall asleep... and finally, we need to find this (Y/n) he talked about. She's our only hope of being his true love right now with the way he spoke about her so fondly."

•••

Holding a torch in your hand, you furrowed your eyebrows when the cottage your new friend had told you to meet him at was silent and dark. "Silver? Are you in here?" you asked shyly, wondering where the inhabitants were. "It's so dark..."

A sigh escaped your throat, and you were about to open the door and check to see if someone was inside for real — in that exact moment, the sound of hurried footsteps trampling across the soft grass nearby filled your ears.

You jumped and turned around to use your torch and light up the area.

Eventually, you could make out two figures running towards you. Readying the dagger that your father had given you if you should ever stumble across danger, you furrowed your eyebrows and prepared yourself to strike.

"(Y/n)! (Y/n)?!" Lilia cried out when the two figures finally stepped into the light, allowing you to see their faces.

"Who—" You found your throat incredibly dry as your mind worked hard on figuring out who the two men were; yet, you couldn't recalling ever having met them before. Aside from their panicked faces, they didn't seem to mean you any harm. So, you sheathed your dagger again and approached them carefully. "Who are you?"

"We're sorry to startle you," Sebek yelled out, "but we need you to go to Silver right now."

You furrowed your eyebrows, knowing they couldn't be any danger if they knew Silver. Maybe those were his guardians he spoke of? But then, where was the third one. Tilting your head to the side, you pointed your finger at the forsaken cottage behind you. "Isn't Silver here? He asked me to meet him here tonight—"

The more frail-looking male shook his head wildly, so much that his black and pink hair was flung all over the place. "No, he's in his tower at the castle..." he cried out as he pointed at you, much to your surprise. "And you need to save him!"

"Oh no..." You let out a sigh while gazing up at the sky that had turned a poisonous green, thunder and lightning striking too often to be deemed natural. "Is that why the weather has been acting all strange?"

Sebek nodded. "Yes, we fear the third fairy, Malleus, has gone crazy... He's transformed into a dragon after enveloping the whole castle in thorns..." Shock was written all over his face, and it seemed like he still hadn't been able to digest all of these strange and worrying events yet. "Now he's desperately protecting Silver."

A gasp escaped your throat as you immediately bolted over to Grim, your loyal horse, and swung your leg over your leather saddle. "I need to save him, then!" you exclaimed in a worried tone.

"Wait." Lilia all out of a sudden appeared in front of Grim, causing him to neigh in panic. Running your hand through your companion's blue mane, you whispered promises of tuna into his ear, knowing that would calm him down. Once that was done, you shot Lilia an angry and questioning look, to which he sheepishly replied, "We have a sword and a shield for you..."

"A sword?!" Sebek cried out, his eyes laced with disbelief. "You can't possibly imply that she kill the young master—"

"I see no other choice, Sebek," Lilia cut in briskly and shot Sebek a small glare.

You eagerly took the sword and shield that Lilia offered to you before grabbing Grim's reigns and forcing him into a gallop. "We have no time to spare!" you cried out as you rode into the dark forest, ready to save your loved one.

Your chest rose and fell in utter panic as you and your horse rode past dark and lifeless landscapes, all the hills and houses enveloped in an eerie green hue. Although Grim was tired, you never let him slow down — until you finally could see the towers of the castle that was shrouded in thorns. The highest tower was your unmistakenable destination.

Once you crossed the bridge though, a dragon swooped down in front of you, hiding the castle behind his large, black wings.

A scream escaped your lips as the dragon spewed a stream of green fire at you, forcing you to retreat behind a large boulder that was able to withstand the unrelenting heat of the fire. Grim was so scared that he tried to buck you off, forcing you to climb down and run your free hand through his mane.

"Grim, sh... don't worry..." you whispered while the sound of loud breathing and wings flapping never ceased to fill your veins with fear. "Everything will be alright..."

Once your companion had finally calmed down, you shooed him off into safety while you remained covered by the large rock. Shield strapped over your forearm and sword in your dominant hand, you carefully peered over the boulder to get a better glimpse of the beast guarding your loved one.

The dragon let out a blood-curdling roar when it managed to spot you behind your cover. "You dare to try and harm my Silver?!" he yelled out, smoke leaving his nostrils. Like a predator, he pressed himself against the earthy floor and pranced towards you in an infuriatingly slow pace.

Realising that you had to find a new object to use as a hiding place, you waited until Malleus' head was in your reach. Slamming the hilt of the sword onto his snout left him temporarily stunned, allowing you to sprint over to the next obstacle, which was a house built out of large stones.

Your chest heaving up and down, you screamed out, "You're Malleus, aren't you?"

"I do not matter," the dragon hissed as he snaked his way over to you once again. "Only Silver matters."

"I'm here to save him!" You kept your head low as another burst of fire hit the building you were using as cover. The roof made out of straw and wood had caught flames already, but the walls remained sturdy and strong. At the end of your wits, you cried out, "Please, let me pass."

Bitter laughter escaped Malleus' throat while he tilted his head to the side in amusement. "Save him!? You're only here to harm him," he snarled. "I'm protecting my poor boy— no creature or human shall be allowed past me."

A gasp escaped your throat, and in a moment of courage and confidence, you jumped out from behind your cover and revealed yourself to the dragon intending to grill you alive. "I'd never harm him!" you yelled, never wavering, even when the dragon brought his head closer to yours, ready to swallow you in one bite. "I love him!"

The dragon seemed quite speechless at your proclamation. "You... love him?" he repeated, taken aback by how genuine and brave you seemed.

"I do!" you yelled out, relieved that your words had somehow managed to affect the beast. Malleus no longer looked like he wanted to kill you; instead, he seemed to be eyeing you curiously. He wanted an explanation, and you were ready to deliver one. "We've only met once but... we walked with one another once upon a dream."

His slitted eyes widened in surprise at your words. "Once upon a dream..." he mumbled to himself while turning away from you, suddenly not interested in burning you alive anymore. His eyes fluttered close as he continued muttering those words to himself over and over again. "Once upon a dream..."

You were left surprised when the dragon turned into a cloaked young man that sank to the floor weakly. The best was no more — you had defeated the dragon guarding your Silver.

An overjoyed cry escaped your throat at the thought of having survived such a menace. That would go far in showing your father that he didn't need to be that overprotective of you, which he had been ever since your mother died; you were strong and capable of surviving a dragon!

There was no time to celebrate your victory since you still had a prince to awaken and the entire kingdom to save. You rushed past Malleus, whom you assumed to be sleeping, and slashed your way through the barrier of thorns that protected the tower from you. Your arms felt tired, but you never ceased in waving around your weapon due to the adrenaline in your veins.

Finally, you had cut your way through them, and were now running up the winding staircase to make your way to your loved one. Chest heaving up and down from having climbed a large flight of stairs, you slammed open the door to what you presumed was where Silver was sleeping away.

And indeed, you found the boy whom you had met earlier this day peacefully slumbering in his bed, covered by a silken blanket. His hands covered one another and lay on top of his chest, a red rose loosely placed below his palms and pressed against his chest.

Silver looked so peaceful, so relaxed — so beautiful.

As if afraid to disturb him, you tiptoed towards his bed with utmost care. Finally, you sat down on the side of his bed, the mattress dipping because of your weight. Letting out a breathless giggle, you brushed a strand of silver hair out of his face. Your palm cupped his cheek lovingly as you bent down with the intentions of pressing your lips against his. Your heart was hammering away in your ribcage when your lips finally touched his, capturing his lips in a sweet and innocent kiss.

When you pulled away, you watched with sparkling eyes as his eyelids slowly fluttered open to reveal drowsy eyes. "(Y/n)?" he called out in a husky tone, his throat dry and his eyelids heavy.

"Silver!" you cried out happily, throwing yourself at him to wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face in the crook of his neck. The poor boy seemed taken aback at first, but quickly wrapped his arms around your waist after having snapped out of his trance. Sobs escaped your throat as you clung onto him desperately. "Oh, I'm so glad you're alright..."

Silver, although relieved to see you, too, still had a million questions echoing around in his sleepy head. "What happened? Why are am I here... Why are you here?"

You pulled away to grab him by his shoulders and look him deep into the eyes. "Your guardians told me I needed to save you—" you explained, tears of happiness and relief streaming down your cheeks. Silver shakily extended his hand to cup your right cheek in his hand, his thumb wiping away your tears. You leant into his touch while letting out a shaky breath. "I first had to defeat the dragon outside and make my way through the thorn barrier... but it's all worth it — for you."

Silver furrowed his eyebrows in worry at the mentioning of a dragon. Could that dragon have been Malleus? The boy's curious eyes trailed down to the skirt of your grey dress. A concerned frown appeared on his face when he found the hem of your skirt black and crusty. "Dear, your dress is slightly singed," he muttered under his breath.

You let out a little chuckle as you slipped a finger underneath his chin and tilted his face back towards you. Bringing your face closer to his, you whispered, "My dress doesn't matter. All that matters is that you're alright now." His cheeks grew red in colour, giving you enough satisfaction to retreat once again. Despite the happiness and relief that occupied your mind, you still were haunted by the conversation you had with your father earlier. "You know, Silver, I'm supposed to marry this kingdom's prince, but I don't think I could ever marry anyone but you... as cheesy as it sounds."

Silver quirked an eyebrow at your predicament, humoured that he was stuck in the same dilemma as you. "Funny, I'm supposed to marry King Epel's daughter," he muttered under his breath while scratching the back of his neck sheepishly.

"Wait—" A gasp escaped your throat. "You're the long-lost son of King Deuce and Queen Acette?!"

Silver nodded slowly, trying his best to recall what Sebek had explained to him earlier. "I think I am."

A choked cry escaped your lips while you threw your arms around his neck again, your chest bursting in disbelief at how lucky you were. "Oh... I thank fate for being so generous to us! You're the prince I'm supposed to marry and I'm the princess you're supposed to marry." Silver's eyes widened as he finally understood what that meant: He finally found the companion he had wished for since his early childhood already. You briefly pulled away to press a kiss to his cheek, murmuring, "I love you, my sleeping beauty."

Silver's cheeks turned a soft pick as he shyly retorted, "And I love you, my brave princess."

[welllpthisishappening]

Welllp This is...Books. Lots and Lots of Books

That gif is something of a lie. Some of these books were not great. But! Some of them were very good! And some of them were marketed weird — seriously, what does qualify as YA — and some of them I read in, like, six hours and some of them I raged about for six hours after I finished them.

Or: 2020!Laura reverted to 2004!Laura and read just a lot of books and then her husband got her a Kindle and she read even more books and has thoughts on most of those books that she is now going to share with the internet while also making absurd category names. Note that these are only books I read for the first time this year. So, the list is missing some of the stuff I used as coping devices. ALSO SOME SPOILERS AHEAD, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

FAVORITE BOOKS THAT MADE A SHITTY YEAR SLIGHTLY BETTER AND ALSO LIKELY MADE ME SWOON A BIT

A Court of Thorns and Roses by Sarah J. Maas

When nineteen-year-old huntress Feyre kills a wolf in the woods, a terrifying creature arrives to demand retribution. Dragged to a treacherous magical land she knows about only from legends, Feyre discovers that her captor is not truly a beast, but one of the lethal, immortal faeries who once ruled her world.

At least, he's not a beast all the time.

As she adapts to her new home, her feelings for the faerie, Tamlin, transform from icy hostility into a fiery passion that burns through every lie she's been told about the beautiful, dangerous world of the Fae. But something is not right in the faerie lands. An ancient, wicked shadow is growing, and Feyre must find a way to stop it, or doom Tamlin-and his world-forever.

— I kid you not, I had to do a lap around the apartment after reading the second book in this series. Why didn’t I read this before? Why isn’t there more fic? Why I am constantly falling for dark-haired sad dudes in love with their wives??? I cannot rec this series enough. It’s got world building and found families, and that dark-haired sad dude, and magic and lore and banter, and it’s so good and I don’t understand why it was marketed as YA. The literary world is weird, guys.

Percy Jackson and the Olympians (and the Heroes of Olympus) by Rick Riordan

Accompany the son of the sea god Poseidon and his other demigod friends as they go on a series of quests that will have them facing monsters, gods, and conniving figures from Greek mythology. Do they have what it takes to save the Olympians from an ancient enemy?

— Straight up, how did you guys cope with Percy and Annabeth when you were kids reading this? I would have been OBSESSED. Quarantine felt like the perfect time to finally read all of these books, and I know it’s sacrilegious to like Heroes of Olympus, but I might have liked parts of that series more? Just because it felt like they were older and I was super into Percabeth being properly in love. Also, now I get why everyone was so upset about the movies. Fair.

The Lunar Chronicles by Marissa Meyer

Humans and androids crowd the raucous streets of New Beijing. A deadly plague ravages the population. From space, a ruthless lunar people watch, waiting to make their move. No one knows that Earth's fate hinges on one girl. . . .Cinder, a gifted mechanic, is a cyborg. She's a second-class citizen with a mysterious past, reviled by her stepmother and blamed for her stepsister's illness. But when her life becomes intertwined with the handsome Prince Kai's, she suddenly finds herself at the center of an intergalactic struggle, and a forbidden attraction. Caught between duty and freedom, loyalty and betrayal, she must uncover secrets about her past in order to protect her world's future.

— Yet another YA series that I will admit to loving this year. Started off a little slow, but once the world building really got underway —and it gets underway — I was hooked. If I had read this at an age-appropriate time I would have been super in love Captain Carswell Thorne. I was still kind of in love with Captan Carswell Thorne. So it should come as no surprise that Cress was my favorite of the series, but I enjoyed the whole thing, really.

Serpent & Dove by Shelby Mahurin

Two years ago, Louise le Blanc fled her coven and took shelter in the city of Cesarine, forsaking all magic and living off whatever she could steal. There, witches like Lou are hunted. They are feared. And they are burned.As a huntsman of the Church, Reid Diggory has lived his life by one principle: Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live. But when Lou pulls a wicked stunt, the two are forced into an impossible situation—marriage.Lou, unable to ignore her growing feelings, yet powerless to change what she is, must make a choice. And love makes fools of us all.

— YO. Y O. THIS WAS SO GOOD. World building! Magic! Marriage of convenience! Well-written enemies to lovers! As soon as I finished this, I bought the sequel. And then got upset the third book in the series isn’t out yet! That’s a frustrating theme for me this year.

The Roommate by Rosie Danan

The Wheatons are infamous among the east coast elite for their lack of impulse control, except for their daughter Clara. She's the consummate socialite: over-achieving, well-mannered, predictable. But every Wheaton has their weakness. When Clara's childhood crush invites her to move cross-country, the offer is too much to resist. Unfortunately, it's also too good to be true.

After a bait-and-switch, Clara finds herself sharing a lease with a charming stranger. Josh might be a bit too perceptive—not to mention handsome—for comfort, but there's a good chance he and Clara could have survived sharing a summer sublet if she hadn't looked him up on the Internet...

Once she learns how Josh has made a name for himself, Clara realizes living with him might make her the Wheaton's most scandalous story yet. His professional prowess inspires her to take tackling the stigma against female desire into her own hands. They may not agree on much, but Josh and Clara both believe women deserve better sex. What they decide to do about it will change both of their lives, and if they're lucky, they'll help everyone else get lucky too.

— I LOVED IT. L O V E D. As I told Justin “there was more porn than I was expecting,” in that porn and the adult film industry was a legitimate plot point and not just a part of Josh’s character, but it was incredibly well written and interesting and I cared about the plot. Sometimes I also wanted to shake Clara, but that was kind of the point.

The Marriage Game by Sara Desai

After her life falls apart, recruitment consultant Layla Patel returns home to her family in San Francisco. But in the eyes of her father, who runs a Michelin starred restaurant, she can do no wrong. He would do anything to see her smile again. With the best intentions in mind, he offers her the office upstairs to start her new business and creates a profile on an online dating site to find her a man. She doesn't know he's arranged a series of blind dates until the first one comes knocking on her door...

As CEO of a corporate downsizing company Sam Mehta is more used to conflict than calm. In search of a quiet new office, he finds the perfect space above a cozy Indian restaurant that smells like home. But when communication goes awry, he's forced to share his space with the owner's beautiful yet infuriating daughter Layla, her crazy family, and a parade of hopeful suitors, all of whom threaten to disrupt his carefully ordered life.

As they face off in close quarters, the sarcasm and sparks fly. But when the battle for the office becomes a battle of the heart, Sam and Layla have to decide if this is love or just a game.

— More well-written enemies to lovers! It’s possible! Seriously, the banter was so good. The kissing was even better. Ridiculous and interfering family is one of my favorite things, and this had it in SPADES. It also made me want to eat samosas, which is kind of my base setting, but I really wanted Indian food whenever I was reading this. Also, the end scene was so goddamn cute I cannot believe it actually happened.

Recipe for Persuasion by Sonali Dev

— The one that got away is one of my favorite tropes, and this modern version of Persuasion did it so well. Everyone was annoying, but in an almost understandable way that made me ache and I just wanted them TO KISS. And then they did kiss! And it was so good! Plus, at the risk of being a little self-indulgent, it was kind of Out of the Frying Pan esque and I liked that a lot. If there is a downside: it’s how quickly the relationship starts up again, like zero to 60 in two seconds flat, and that there were a lot of POVs. Which wouldn’t have been an issue if they’d been labeled, or weren’t bouncing around the timeline randomly. Sometimes I’d have to be like—wait, who’s talking about what?

Chef Ashna Raje desperately needs a new strategy. How else can she save her beloved restaurant and prove to her estranged, overachieving mother that she isn't a complete screw up? When she's asked to join the cast of Cooking with the Stars, the latest hit reality show teaming chefs with celebrities, it seems like just the leap of faith she needs to put her restaurant back on the map. She's a chef, what's the worst that could happen?Rico Silva, that's what.Being paired with a celebrity who was her first love, the man who ghosted her at the worst possible time in her life, only proves what Ashna has always believed: leaps of faith are a recipe for disaster.FIFA winning soccer star Rico Silva isn't too happy to be paired up with Ashna either. Losing Ashna years ago almost destroyed him. The only silver lining to this bizarre situation is that he can finally prove to Ashna that he's definitely over her.But when their catastrophic first meeting goes viral, social media becomes obsessed with their chemistry. The competition on the show is fierce...and so is the simmering desire between Ashna and Rico. Every minute they spend together rekindles feelings that pull them toward their disastrous past. Will letting go again be another recipe for heartbreak—or a recipe for persuasion...?

The Good Luck Charm by Helena Hunting

Lilah isn't sure what hurt worse: the day Ethan left her to focus on his hockey career or the day he came back eight years later. He might think they can pick up just where they left off, but she's no longer that same girl and never wants to be again.

Just when Lilah might finally be ready to let Ethan in, though, she finds out their reunion might have nothing to do with love and everything to do with improving his game. But Ethan's already lost her once, and even if it costs him his career, he'll do anything to keep from losing her again.

— HOCKEY ROM COM. HOCKEY. ROM. COM. Apparently this lady is regarded as the queen of “hockey romance,” which I kind of take offense to, but will give a pass on because this was a very cute book and everyone was cute in it and I was only marginally frustrated by those same people being idiots. As is required by rom coms. Hockey, or otherwise.

A Curse So Dark and Lonely by Brigid Kemmerer

Fall in love, break the curse. It once seemed so easy to Prince Rhen, the heir to Emberfall. Cursed by a powerful enchantress to repeat the autumn of his eighteenth year over and over, he knew he could be saved if a girl fell for him. But that was before he learned that at the end of each autumn, he would turn into a vicious beast hell-bent on destruction. That was before he destroyed his castle, his family, and every last shred of hope.

Nothing has ever been easy for Harper. With her father long gone, her mother dying, and her brother barely holding their family together while constantly underestimating her because of her cerebral palsy, she learned to be tough enough to survive. But when she tries to save someone else on the streets of Washington, DC, she's instead somehow sucked into Rhen's cursed world.

Break the curse, save the kingdom. A prince? A monster? A curse? Harper doesn't know where she is or what to believe. But as she spends time with Rhen in this enchanted land, she begins to understand what's at stake. And as Rhen realizes Harper is not just another girl to charm, his hope comes flooding back. But powerful forces are standing against Emberfall . . . and it will take more than a broken curse to save Harper, Rhen, and his people from utter ruin.

— Beauty and the Beast AU!!! Fantasy! Magic! Romance! I loved this, even when Rhen was being a whiny idiot. But he was also cursed, so like—fair. This dives into the politics of a cursed kingdom, puts a fun spin on the original fairy tale and also has a sequel. Which I read, and possibly enjoyed more. Only to realize the third book isn’t published yet, and then got annoyed by that.

QUESTIONABLY-GOOD FREE FANTASY BOOKS ON AMAZON

The Silver and Orchids Collection by Shari L Tapscott

What happens when a feisty adventuress, a lord looking to make his own way in the world, and a handsome sea captain set out to find Kalae’s rarest and most valuable flower?

Trouble—and lots of it.

— Snarky flirting! Adventure! Sword fights! Listen, this is not prize-winning fiction, but Lucia is a fun heroine, the rest of her adventure-seeking friends are an absolute delight and you don’t have to think too much while reading it. All four books wrap up their individual storylines, but help set up the next one and while the ending felt a little forced (and way too quick) I didn’t hate it enough to throw the Kindle across the room.

Forest of Firelight by Shari L. Tapscsott

After the sudden death of her brother, Princess Amalia is charged with what feels like an impossible task—she must choose the next king. Youthful thoughts of love are pushed aside as she accepts her fate, setting upon a quest throughout the kingdom to find a man worthy of her father’s throne.

Little does Amalia know, someone has already set his sights on her.

Rhys is a man of secrets, and his mission is simple: befriend the princess of Renove. Coax her to trust him, convince her to follow him.

Betray her when it’s time.

All goes according to plan until Rhys meets the princess. Amalia is a disaster. Never has he met someone so drawn to trouble. Never has he met someone so irritatingly likable.

He’s not allowed to fall for her.

She could never entrust him with a crown.

But, unbeknownst to them, their unlikely partnership might be the key to saving their entire world from a darkness that’s slowly creeping from the wounded earth that separates one kingdom from the next.

— FORBIDDEN LOVE! It’s good! Real good! I read this whole series (or the three books in it, so far) in a questionably short amount of time. Again, not the deepest story, and Amalia is occasionally frustratingly dumb. While Rhys is also sort of all-knowing in that fantasy hero sort of way? Y’know what I mean? Still, they banter very well, and eventually kiss even better.

LESS GOOD FANTASY BOOKS THAT PROBABLY SHOULD HAVE JUST BEEN AVAILABLE FOR FREE ON AMAZON

Ash Princess by Laura Sebastian

Theodosia was six when her country was invaded and her mother, the Fire Queen, was murdered before her eyes. On that day, the Kaiser took Theodosia's family, her land, and her name. Theo was crowned Ash Princess—a title of shame to bear in her new life as a prisoner.

For ten years Theo has been a captive in her own palace. She's endured the relentless abuse and ridicule of the Kaiser and his court. She is powerless, surviving in her new world only by burying the girl she was deep inside.

Then, one night, the Kaiser forces her to do the unthinkable. With blood on her hands and all hope of reclaiming her throne lost, she realizes that surviving is no longer enough. But she does have a weapon: her mind is sharper than any sword. And power isn't always won on the battlefield.

For ten years, the Ash Princess has seen her land pillaged and her people enslaved. That all ends here.

— I wanted to love this series. So much so that I read the whole thing. All three books. And I’m still not sure why. The world building, maybe. Which was very good, and the politics actually kept me interested, but every single character was the absolute worst and I kind of wanted them all to die. That’s not even an exaggeration. Spoiler, they didn’t all die. I was only marginally disappointed.

Daughter of the Pirate King by Tricia Levenseller

When the ruthless Pirate King learns of a legendary treasure map hidden on an enemy ship, his daughter, Alosa, knows that there's only one pirate for the job—herself. Leaving behind her beloved ship and crew, Alosa deliberately facilitates her own kidnapping to ensure her passage on the enemy ship. After all, who's going to suspect a seventeen-year-old girl locked in a cell?Then she meets the (surprisingly perceptive and unfairly attractive) first mate, Riden, who is charged with finding out all her secrets. Now it's down to a battle of wits and will... Can Alosa find the map and escape before Riden figures out her plan?

— Alosa was kind of the worst? Like, STRONG FEMALE CHARACTER who had to keep reminding you how strong she was because she would kill anyone, and had an all female pirate crew. And the whole time I was just like, ok...cool. Still, I read the sequel too and that was slightly better.

The Shadows Between Us by Tricia Levenseller

Alessandra is tired of being overlooked, but she has a plan to gain power:

1) Woo the Shadow King.

2) Marry him.

3) Kill him and take his kingdom for herself.

No one knows the extent of the freshly crowned Shadow King's power. Some say he can command the shadows that swirl around him to do his bidding. Others say they speak to him, whispering the thoughts of his enemies. Regardless, Alessandra knows what she deserves, and she's going to do everything within her power to get it.

But Alessandra's not the only one trying to kill the king. As attempts on his life are made, she finds herself trying to keep him alive long enough for him to make her his queen—all while struggling not to lose her heart. After all, who better for a Shadow King than a cunning, villainous queen?

— I cannot explain this book any way except to tell you it is so weird. Like, sometimes I remember I read this and all I can think is: why did this book happen? It felt like it started in the middle of the story, which is not a knock on the story itself, but mostly on the world building. Which was lacking to say the least. Also the resolution was super rushed and even more weird and I was like—why does he like her??? I still don’t know, honestly.

The Stars We Steal by Alexa Donne

Engagement season is in the air. Eighteen-year-old Princess Leonie "Leo" Kolburg, heir to a faded European spaceship, has only one thing on her mind: which lucky bachelor can save her family from financial ruin?

But when Leo's childhood friend and first love, Elliot, returns as the captain of a successful whiskey ship, everything changes. Elliot was the one who got away, the boy Leo's family deemed to be unsuitable for marriage. Now he's the biggest catch of the season and he seems determined to make Leo's life miserable. But old habits die hard, and as Leo navigates the glittering balls of the Valg Season, she finds herself falling for her first love in a game of love, lies, and past regrets.

— Another book whose lack of world building hurt it. Stuff just happened, and we were expected to understand it and be into it and I was neither. I had no reason to care about anyone in this book, especially Elliot who seemed like an asshole.

To Kill a Kingdom by Alexandra Christo

Princess Lira is siren royalty and the most lethal of them all. With the hearts of seventeen princes in her collection, she is revered across the sea. Until a twist of fate forces her to kill one of her own. To punish her daughter, the Sea Queen transforms Lira into the one thing they loathe most—a human. Robbed of her song, Lira has until the winter solstice to deliver Prince Elian's heart to the Sea Queen and or remain a human forever.The ocean is the only place Prince Elian calls home, even though he is heir to the most powerful kingdom in the world. Hunting sirens is more than an unsavory hobby—it's his calling. When he rescues a drowning woman in the ocean, she's more than what she appears. She promises to help him find the key to destroying all of sirenkind for good—But can he trust her? And just how many deals will Elian have to barter to eliminate mankind's greatest enemy?

— This book did not go the way I thought it was going to. Not a bad thing, but also not the best and the ending was...bleh. The middle, though? That was legit, and the action was good. I am always a fan of sword fights. Still, there was something that left me waiting for the final push towards great and it just never really came.

ROM-COMS WITH ONLY PASSABLY FRUSTRATING PLOTS AND GOOD KISSING

Party of Two by Jasmine Guillory

Dating is the last thing on Olivia Monroe's mind when she moves to LA to start her own law firm. But when she meets a gorgeous man at a hotel bar and they spend the entire night flirting, she discovers too late that he is none other than hotshot junior senator Max Powell. Olivia has zero interest in dating a politician, but when a cake arrives at her office with the cutest message, she can't resist—it is chocolate cake, after all.

Olivia is surprised to find that Max is sweet, funny, and noble—not just some privileged white politician, as she assumed him to be. Because of Max's high-profile job, they start seeing each other secretly, which leads to clandestine dates and silly disguises. But when they finally go public, the intense media scrutiny means people are now digging up her rocky past and criticizing her job, even her suitability as a trophy girlfriend. Olivia knows what she has with Max is something special, but is it strong enough to survive the heat of the spotlight?

— It was cute. Max was occasionally an idiot. The kissing was legit. Most of their problems could have very easily been solved, but that’s kind of this genre’s schtick.

The Worst Best Man by Mia Sosa

A wedding planner left at the altar? Yeah, the irony isn't lost on Carolina Santos, either. But despite that embarrassing blip from her past, Lina's offered an opportunity that could change her life. There's just one hitch... she has to collaborate with the best (make that worst) man from her own failed nuptials. Marketing expert Max Hartley is determined to make his mark with a coveted hotel client looking to expand its brand. Then he learns he'll be working with his brother's whip-smart, stunning—absolutely off-limits—ex-fiancée. And she loathes him.If they can nail their presentation without killing each other, they'll both come out ahead. Except Max has been public enemy number one ever since he encouraged his brother to jilt the bride, and Lina's ready to dish out a little payback of her own.Soon Lina and Max discover animosity may not be the only emotion creating sparks between them. Still, this star-crossed couple can never be more than temporary playmates because Lina isn't interested in falling in love and Max refuses to play runner-up to his brother ever again...

— Once you got past the hooking up with your ex’s brother thing, it was cute. Max was endearing in an earnest sort of way, even when Lina was STRONG FEMALE CHARACTER in a cliche sort of way. More solid kissing. Side note, why are so many rom com dudes named Max? Does it sound hip? Passably cool, but also approachable? Discuss. 

Not that Kind of Guy by Andie J. Christopher

State attorney Bridget Nolan is successful in all aspects of her life—except romance. After breaking up with her longtime boyfriend, she's been slow to reenter the dating scene. To be honest, she has more important things to do like putting bad guys behind bars. But with her brother's wedding right around the corner, she suddenly needs a date and fast. Lucky for Bridget, the legal intern is almost done with his program.

Matt Kido is dumbstruck by Bridget—total love at first sight—but there's one problem. She's totally off-limits while she's his boss. But the moment he no longer reports to her, Matt asks her on a date. An impulsive decision takes them to Las Vegas where, as the saying goes, what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.

Unless you put a ring on it.

— Having written the “wake up in Vegas married” trope before, I know it’s difficult to do right. Consent’s a thing, y’know? And stuff gets dicy with forgotten memories, and all that, but mostly what kept me from truly loving this book was the intern thing. Don’t date your interns guys, it’s weird and off-putting. Literally if he’d just been a junior partner, or a visiting partner or something else I would have been all in.

Meet Cute by Helena Hunting

Kailyn Flowers was always calm, rational, and controlled—until she ended up sprawled all over Daxton Hughes, the former actor she totally crushed on as a teenager. Then she did the unthinkable: She became a mortifying fangirl in five seconds flat, which may or may not have included professing her undying love. And oddly, he didn't run away. In fact, their meet cute led to a friendship she never saw coming. Of course, she never saw his betrayal coming, either...Now Dax needs her help. As guardian to his thirteen-year-old sister, he's in way over his head. And though Kailyn hasn't forgiven Dax, she isn't heartless enough to make him fend for himself, either. Soon their friendly meetings turn into flirty dinner dates, and Kailyn can feel their chemistry is as explosive as ever. But how can she possibly let down her guard again to a guy who has heartbreak written all over him?

— Once again here for the one that got away trope, even if this comes with dead parents and some sad storylines. It still managed to be cute. Everyone was cute in it. Occasionally Daxton was a dick. As rom com male leads are apt to be.

If I Never Met You by Mhairi McFarlane

If faking love is this easy... how do you know when it's real?When her partner of over a decade suddenly ends things, Laurie is left reeling—not only because they work at the same law firm and she has to see him every day. Her once perfect life is in shambles and the thought of dating again in the age of Tinder is nothing short of horrifying. When news of her ex's pregnant girlfriend hits the office grapevine, taking the humiliation lying down is not an option. Then a chance encounter in a broken-down elevator with the office playboy opens up a new possibility.Jamie Carter doesn't believe in love, but he needs a respectable, steady girlfriend to impress their bosses. Laurie wants a hot new man to give the rumor mill something else to talk about. It's the perfect proposition: a fauxmance played out on social media, with strategically staged photographs and a specific end date in mind. With the plan hatched, Laurie and Jamie begin to flaunt their new couple status, to the astonishment—and jealousy—of their friends and colleagues. But there's a fine line between pretending to be in love and actually falling for your charming, handsome fake boyfriend...

— FAKE DATING THAT LEADS TO REAL FEELINGS. The ex-boyfriend was an assssss, the fake boyfriend was charming, everything was good AND THEN WE GOT TO THE END. Which felt more than a little rushed, unexpected and not really in line with the rest of the book?? Give ‘em a slightly better, in-character ending, and I would have been sold.

BOOKS THAT I WAS LIKE...EH, OK

The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern

The circus arrives without warning. No announcements precede it. It is simply there, when yesterday it was not. Within the black-and-white striped canvas tents is an utterly unique experience full of breathtaking amazements. It is called Le Cirque des Rêves, and it is only open at night.

But behind the scenes, a fierce competition is underway: a duel between two young magicians, Celia and Marco, who have been trained since childhood expressly for this purpose by their mercurial instructors. Unbeknownst to them both, this is a game in which only one can be left standing. Despite the high stakes, Celia and Marco soon tumble headfirst into love, setting off a domino effect of dangerous consequences, and leaving the lives of everyone, from the performers to the patrons, hanging in the balance.

— I think this book was too smart for me. The prose was gorgeous, and the whole thing was very pretty and I definitely swooned when Marco said he wished for Celia. And yet. By the end I was like...eh, ok. Maybe it was the timeline? Jumping around, or how little dialogue there was. I wanted to like it all so badly, and I’m just not sure I did.

Acting on Impulse by Mia Sosa

After a very public breakup with a media-hungry politician, fitness trainer Tori Alvarez escapes to Aruba for rest, relaxation, and copious amounts of sex on the beach—the cocktail, that is. She vows to keep her vacation a man-free zone but when a cute guy is seated next to her on the plane, Tori can't resist a little harmless flirting.Hollywood heartthrob Carter Stone underwent a dramatic physical transformation for his latest role and it's clear his stunning seat mate doesn't recognize the man beneath the shaggy beard and extra lean frame. Now Carter needs help rebuilding his buff physique and Tori is perfect for the job. It doesn't hurt that she makes his pulse pound in more ways than one.Sparks are flying, until a pesky paparazzo reveals Carter's identity. Tori is hurt and pissed. She wants nothing to do with another man in the limelight, but she's still got to whip him into shape. Can Carter convince Tori he's worth the threat to her privacy that comes with dating a famous actor, or will Tori chisel him down to nothing before he even gets the chance?

— Dudes have gotta stop lying about who they are. It’s not a great trope. Other than that, the kissing was good. The romance was like...eh. I honestly don’t remember much else.

Twice in a Blue Moon by Christina Lauren

During a whirlwind two-week vacation abroad, Sam and Tate fell for each other in only the way that first loves do: sharing all of their hopes, dreams, and deepest secrets along the way. Sam was the first, and only, person that Tate—the long-lost daughter of one of the world's biggest film stars—ever revealed her identity to. So when it became clear her trust was misplaced, her world shattered for good.

Fourteen years later, Tate, now an up-and-coming actress, only thinks about her first love every once in a blue moon. When she steps onto the set of her first big break, he's the last person she expects to see. Yet here Sam is, the same charming, confident man she knew, but even more alluring than she remembered. Forced to confront the man who betrayed her, Tate must ask herself if it's possible to do the wrong thing for the right reason... and whether "once in a lifetime" can come around twice.

— This book was...weird. The early romance was wonderful and delightful, but then shit hit the fan and Sam and Tate are adults and...weird. Like, I cannot come up with another word for it. Also, they didn’t really talk much? As adults? Working on the same movie set? W e i r d.

I Owe You One by Sophie Kinsella

Fixie Farr has always lived by her father’s motto: “Family first.” And since her dad passed away, leaving his charming housewares store in the hands of his wife and children, Fixie spends all her time picking up the slack from her siblings instead of striking out on her own. The way Fixie sees it, if she doesn’t take care of her father’s legacy, who will?

It’s simply not in Fixie’s nature to say no to people. So when a handsome stranger in a coffee shop asks her to watch his laptop for a moment, she not only agrees—she ends up saving it from certain disaster. To thank Fixie for her quick thinking, the computer’s owner, Sebastian, an investment manager, scribbles an IOU on a coffee sleeve and attaches his business card. Fixie laughs it off—she’d never actually claim an IOU from a stranger. Would she?

But then Fixie’s childhood crush, Ryan, comes back into her life, and his lack of a profession pushes all of Fixie’s buttons. As always, she wants nothing for herself—but she’d love Seb to give Ryan a job. No sooner has Seb agreed than the tables are turned once more and a new series of IOUs between Seb and Fixie—from small favors to life-changing moments—ensues. Soon Fixie, Ms. Fixit for everyone else, is torn between her family and the life she really wants. Does she have the courage to take a stand? Will she finally grab the life, and love, she really wants?

— Let’s be upfront, I’ve read a lot of Sophie Kinsella in my life, and more often than not I enjoy what she writes. I mostly did here. It was a book. With obvious rom com problems, that could have very easily been solved, but it wasn’t horrible. So, that was good, I guess.

The Wedding Party by Jasmine Guillory

Maddie and Theo have two things in common:

1. Alexa is their best friend

2. They hate each other

After an "oops, we made a mistake" night together, neither one can stop thinking about the other. With Alexa's wedding rapidly approaching, Maddie and Theo both share bridal party responsibilities that require more interaction with each other than they're comfortable with. Underneath the sharp barbs they toss at each other is a simmering attraction that won't fade. It builds until they find themselves sneaking off together to release some tension when Alexa isn't looking, agreeing they would end it once the wedding is over. When it's suddenly pushed up and they only have a few months left of secret rendezvouses, they find themselves regretting that the end is near. Two people this different can't possibly have a connection other than the purely physical, right?

But as with any engagement with a nemesis, there are unspoken rules that must be abided by. First and foremost, don't fall in love.

— Eh, this book happened. I still have no idea why they couldn’t be together from the get. Obstacles for the sake of plot, I guess. Also political side stories? I don’t know, guys.

WEIRD POST-ENDING FEELINGS WERE INDUCED

Beach Read by Emily Henry

Augustus Everett is an acclaimed author of literary fiction. January Andrews writes bestselling romance. When she pens a happily ever after, he kills off his entire cast.

They're polar opposites.

In fact, the only thing they have in common is that for the next three months, they're living in neighboring beach houses, broke, and bogged down with writer's block.

Until, one hazy evening, one thing leads to another and they strike a deal designed to force them out of their creative ruts: Augustus will spend the summer writing something happy, and January will pen the next Great American Novel. She'll take him on field trips worthy of any rom-com montage, and he'll take her to interview surviving members of a backwoods death cult (obviously). Everyone will finish a book and no one will fall in love. Really.

— Listen, I enjoyed this a lot. For the most part. It was funny, and introspective in a way that didn’t make me want to gag too much, and I wanted to defend January’s love of love with everything in me. But, then it—ended. And it was like...all tied up with this nice little ribbon and happily ever after, and I was like...oh, ok. Part of me that it was glad it ended like that, mostly because of who I am as a person, but the rest of me was also confused that after everything January and Augustus had been through and how messy their lives were it could just get all wrapped up in this HEA.

HITTING JUST A BIT TOO CLOSE TO HOME

Spoiler Alert by Olivia Dade

Marcus Caster-Rupp has a secret. The world may know him as Aeneas, star of the biggest show on television, but fanfiction readers call him something else: Book!AeneasWouldNever. Marcus gets out his frustrations with the show through anonymous stories about the internet's favorite couple, Aeneas and Lavinia. But if anyone discovered his online persona, he'd be finished in Hollywood.April Whittier has secrets of her own. A hardcore Lavinia fan, she's long hidden her fanfic and cosplay hobbies from her "real life"—but not anymore. When she dares to post her latest costume creation on Twitter, her plus-size take goes viral. And when Marcus asks her out to spite her internet critics, truth officially becomes stranger than fanfiction. On their date, Marcus quickly realizes he wants more from April than a one-time publicity stunt. But when he discovers she's Unapologetic Lavinia Stan, his closest fandom friend, he has one more huge secret to keep from her.With love and Marcus's career on the line, can the two of them stop hiding once and for all, or will a match made in fandom end up prematurely cancelled?

— Here for plus-size heroines who get the guy and don’t have their (entire) storyline defined by their looks. Less here for the weird fandom culture, the ensuing second-hand embarrassment that came from that and the thankfulness that both Colin O’Donoghue and Bob Morley appear to be happily married so it seems very unlikely they’re writing fic about their characters under pseudonyms. Stop using Ao3 in actual published stories 2k4ever.

RAGE-INDUCING BOOKS OF ABSOLUTE FURY

The Friend Zone by Abby Jimenez

Kristen Peterson doesn't do drama, will fight to the death for her friends, and has no room in her life for guys who just don't get her. She's also keeping a big secret: facing a medically necessary procedure that will make it impossible for her to have children.Planning her best friend's wedding is bittersweet for Kristen �� especially when she meets the best man, Josh Copeland. He's funny, sexy, never offended by her mile-wide streak of sarcasm, and always one chicken enchilada ahead of her hangry. Even her dog, Stuntman Mike, adores him. The only catch: Josh wants a big family someday. Kristen knows he'd be better off with someone else, but as their attraction grows, it's harder and harder to keep him at arm's length.The Friend Zone will have you laughing one moment and grabbing for tissues the next as it tackles the realities of infertility and loss with wit, heart, and a lot of sass.

— LISTEN THERE ARE SPOILERS HERE, BUT I FEEL LIKE YOU SHOULD KNOW ABOUT THEM BECAUSE THIS BOOK IS A SECRET GUT PUNCH AND PEOPLE SHOULD BE AWARE. Not only is infertility, like, the defining theme of this book, but the BEST FRIEND DIES. Just—dies. It’s horrible. Absolutely God awful depressing. And for a second he looks like he won’t, and it’ll be fine, but then it is not and he’s just D E A D. I know, I know that sets up the sequel, but this was so goddamn heavy in an unsuspecting way that I have absolutely no intention of reading the next one.

Well Met by Jen DeLuca

Emily knew there would be strings attached when she relocated to the small town of Willow Creek, Maryland, for the summer to help her sister recover from an accident, but who could anticipate getting roped into volunteering for the local Renaissance Faire alongside her teenaged niece? Or that the irritating and inscrutable schoolteacher in charge of the volunteers would be so annoying that she finds it impossible to stop thinking about him?

The faire is Simon's family legacy and from the start he makes clear he doesn't have time for Emily's lighthearted approach to life, her oddball Shakespeare conspiracy theories, or her endless suggestions for new acts to shake things up. Yet on the faire grounds he becomes a different person, flirting freely with Emily when she's in her revealing wench's costume. But is this attraction real, or just part of the characters they're portraying?

This summer was only ever supposed to be a pit stop on the way to somewhere else for Emily, but soon she can't seem to shake the fantasy of establishing something more with Simon or a permanent home of her own in Willow Creek.

— FUCK THIS BOOK. And fuck Simon, specifically. Oh, you have a sad story? Cool, you’re still a dick. He was a dick. Listen, I know enemies to lovers is a hard trope to write, but it’s even harder to accept when those enemies just announce I LIKED YOU THE WHOLE TIME and then everyone starts ripping off their clothes. No, it’s dumb. I hate it. Apparently there’s a sequel to this book. Maybe that’s better.

Kiss My Cupcake by Helena Hunting

Blaire Calloway has planned every Instagram-worthy moment of her cupcake and cocktails shop launch down to the tiniest detail. What she didn't plan on? Ronan Knight and his old-school sports bar next door opening on the very same day. He may be super swoony, but Blaire hasn't spent years obsessing over buttercream and bourbon to have him ruin her chance at success.From axe throwing (his place) to frosting contests (hers), Blaire and Ronan are constantly trying to one-up each other in a battle to win new customers. But with every clash, there's also an undeniable chemistry. When an even bigger threat to their business comes to town, they're forced to call a temporary time-out on their own war and work together. And the more time Blaire spends getting to know the real Ronan, the more she wonders if it's possible to have her cupcake and eat it too.

— Listen, I wanted to like this one. There were plenty other Helena Hunting books on this list, so like—I don’t hate her. I just hate poorly executed enemies to lovers plot lines. Give me at least one moment where they are interested in each other aside from just being attracted to each other. Also: Stop Having Dudes Be Dicks Because Of Their Sad Backstory 2k4ever.

Don’t You Forget About Me by Mhairi McFarlane

You always remember your first love... don't you?If there's anything worse than being fired from the worst restaurant in town, it's coming home early to find your boyfriend in bed with someone else. Reeling from the humiliation of a double dumping in one day, Georgina takes the next job that comes her way—bartender in a newly opened pub. There's only one problem: it's run by the guy she fell in love with years ago. And—make that two problems—he doesn't remember her. At all. But she has fabulous friends and her signature hot pink fur coat... what more could a girl really need?Lucas McCarthy has not only grown into a broodingly handsome man, but he's also turned into an actual grown-up, with a thriving business and a dog along the way. Crossing paths with him again throws Georgina's rocky present into sharp relief—and brings a secret from her past bubbling to the surface. Only she knows what happened twelve years ago, and why she's allowed the memories to chase her ever since. But maybe it's not too late for the truth... or a second chance with the one that got away?

— HE WAS JUST PRETENDING NOT TO REMEMBER HER THE WHOLE TIME???? WHAT?? WHY??? D U M B. Dumb boys are dumb.

Not the Girl You Marry by Andie J. Christopher

Jack Nolan is a gentleman, a journalist, and unlucky in love. His viral success has pigeon-holed him as the how-to guy for a buzzy, internet media company instead of covering hard-hitting politics. Fed up with his fluffy articles and the app-based dating scene as well, he strikes a deal with his boss to write a final piece de resistance: How to Lose a Girl. Easier said than done when the girl he meets is Hannah Mayfield, and he's not sure he wants her to dump him.

Hannah is an extremely successful event planner who's focused on climbing the career ladder. Her firm is one of the most prestigious in the city, and she's determined to secure her next promotion. But Hannah has a bit of an image problem. She needs to show her boss that she has range, including planning dreaded, romantic weddings. Enter Jack. He's the perfect man to date for a couple weeks to prove to her boss that she's not scared of feelings.

Before Jack and Hannah know it, their fake relationship starts to feel all too real—and neither of them can stand to lose each other.

— This is actually the prequel to Not That Kind of Guy and I honestly can’t believe I read that after hating this book so much. They were awful to each other! Their whole relationship was based on lies! Mean lies! Horrible lies! Don’t lie to your significant other!

[secret-engima]

NotEveryDayisAGoodDay: maybe a scene where Ita is being Daded into a better mental/emotional health? And what do the rumors have to say about Yoru being the Bijuu's dad? And about Ita, He's obvs an OldSoul, just with no memory of his lives before. My brain suggested that he's Somnus. Ardyn wonders into town and is oh shit baby bro. There's Angst and Feels before he leaves again. And Yoru knows that something about Ita called to him but couldn't put his finger on it before Uncle showed up.

I will never say no to the deserved dadding of Itachi but first let me just say that Itachi as Somnus But No Memories is BRILLIANT and let’s pretend that’s a thing now. Ardyn blows into town ever few years and always dotes on Itachi shamelessly.

-It’s not long after Yoru realized that the Uchiha had forgotten themselves and Sarutobi was being Even More Of An Idiot because really, there are no wars (Yoru makes sure of that) so why send a FOUR YEAR OLD onto a combat mission? Seriously? He put laws in place against those via Hashirama (that Danzo discreetly hid and Sarutobi is turning a blind eye too for the moment).

-Yoru sweeps in and claims Itachi as a Retainer in a heartbeat after hearing about this, just- shows up in the Uchiha compound in his Formal Getup with his Retinue flanking him and is like “I am here for my newest Retainer” and like- what are the Uchiha gonna do? Say NO??? Yoru is still highly esteemed in many circles even if Sarutobi and Danzo are being Idiots about him and on one hand no one in the Uchiha wants to tick off Yoru and on the other PRESTIGE. Yoru has claimed no Retainer since finding his Aburame and that was generations ago. So Fugaku stiffly summons Itachi and Mikoto stoically packs her son’s bags despite her pregnant belly and tries not to show her heartbreak at giving away her eldest to the unpredictable and ancient forest spirit that has long watched over their village. Mikoto pets Itachi’s hair and whispers to him to be good while Fugaku stiffly orders his son to make the Uchiha proud.

-Yoru watches them give up their child without fighting, without crying, without even hugging, and feels rage bubble under his skin that he will not show.

-Itachi is four and small and traumatized when Yoru takes him back to the shrine. Ignis fusses and Gladio moves the boy’s things into the room he’ll be living in now and Prompto entertains Itachi with his butterflies and for a while everything is fine.

-A few days later the shock factor wears off and it is no longer fine.

-Yoru unhesitatingly picks Itachi up during his silent sobbing fit, having woken up after sensing Itachi’s chakra fluctuate with homesickness-nightmares-sadness-loneliness, curling the boy against his shoulder and walking back and forth through the gardens until the stunned Itachi drifts back to sleep.

-Having a child in the shrine is a welcome return in some ways. Yoru’s and Tsuki’s children are all grown and moved out at this point, some to other parts of the village, some to places beyond in the ninja world. They all take turns making Itachi feel at home, comforting his nightmares, and when he confesses what happened on the mission (killing a man and still dreaming of the blood on the kunai), how it made him feel and how he HATES it, Yoru tells Itachi that while he will learn to fight, he will never be forced to fight anyone. He will never have to be a ninja, never have to go to war unless he chooses to. Yoru will make sure of that.

-Itachi clings to Yoru after that, becomes his little shadow even more than Tsuki’s or Ignis’s. Tsuki teaches him healing, Yoru gives him (adopts him with) magic so he can always feel at home with them.

-Six months in and a little boy named Shisui bumbles in, saying he’s here to check on his cousin. Yoru smiles when Itachi shyly emerges from behind Yoru’s yukata to say hi and is bedazzled by Shisui’s smile. The two are attached at the hip after that unless Gladio deigns playfight with Shisui (which he always does) because Shisui LIKES Gladio and thinks he’s cool.

-About a year later Gladio finally gets impatient with the Uchiha, bangs on the door to Fugaku’s house at like- six in the morning and when Mikoto opens it stiffly (what else will Yoru take from them what else can he but her newborn child please nO) and Gladio gruffly says “Just because you don’t have to feed him anymore doesn’t mean you aren’t still his mother. Make time in your day to visit.”

-And for a moment Mikoto is so furious her Uchiha mask slips and she snaps that Yoru was the one who TOOK HER SON AWAY from her, how was she supposed to know they would permit visits? Gladio just flashes a bit of fang and retorts that she didn’t even protest the removal and didn’t even hug her son goodbye, how were they supposed to know she was BOTHERED by it?

-Mikoto is more than a little insulted but also baffled.

-Mikoto and Fugaku visit regularly after that, albeit with supervision after Fugaku forgets himself and goes on a “You Must Live Up To Being An Uchiha” rant that nearly reduces Itachi to tears later.

-Fugaku is sorry about that after Ignis calmly sits the two down and serenely informs them about all the ways that kind of mentality and behavior can Mess Up A Child.

-They are very understanding and don’t interrupt.

-It has nothing to do with the knives Ignis is expertly sharpening despite his blindness he is sure.

-So anyway yes. Much cuddles and positive reinforcement for Itachi since he was 4, plus LC magic and training in being a medic and he absolutely grows up to be the next Tsunade of his generation (despite being a boy). :D

-To answer your other questions!

-The rumors all insist that Yoru is TOTALLY the dad of the biju, it’s just HOW that varies wildly. Some have him as forming them out of the elements in an expression of his power, others have him being wooed by a demon who shapeshifted into a lovely woman and their affair gave birth to them. There’s a particularly wild one that says YORU is the one who shapeshifter into a woman and seduced a demon and they call Yoru father out of respect even though they should technically call him mother (Prompto just about dies from crying laughter when he hears that one, Gladio is on the floor and Ignis is smirking. Yoru is a Die™). There’s a story among the few who remember the Legend of the Sage of Six Paths (albeit in pieces) that makes him out to be a helper of the Sage and that when the Sage battled the TenTails he was unable to defeat the beast until he sought out and earned the favor of Yoru and his trickster Uncle, who gave the Sage gifts of healing and illusion to finally trick the beast into being defeated and split into the biju.

-There is one particularly fae-like and gentle tale that says that when Yoru was but a young, rash, child spirit himself, his only company were nine toys of different creatures. First a little stuffed kitsune who traveled with him everywhere, then a wooden octo-cow that he set as the guard for his bedside, then on down each biju until he made a little tanuki playmate out of sand and glass. The story then goes that as he grew, he kept the toys and loved them, giving them names and speaking with them as real friends and that in time, when he had reached adulthood, his years and years of love made them magic. But he had since forgotten about them once reaching adulthood, and so the toys became bitter and lonely and took on the forms of living chakra beasts to search for their “father” and that their tails are numbered in order of which one Yoru had first (thus the stuffed fox gained nine tails while the little tanuki of sand and glass only gained one).

-Yoru finds this version oddly charming if sad and Shukaku has more than once loudly grumbled at being compared to a TOY.

-Ardyn’s fav is the one where Yoru is the shapeshifter. Because of course it is. XD

[wildflowers-of-trolberg]

7, 8, 9, 10, 12??

7. Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

This is a bit more than a snippet but:

She calls out his name and he freezes; he looks back, tears running down his face, and for a moment she is sure he will board. She knows the old stories, the tales of the marra and the fae folk, and she knows that she will never see him again if he takes that train’s cursed offer.

But he doesn’t. He hesitates, and takes a half-step back, and then she crosses the distance and scoops him up into her arms and holds him so tight that she’s scared she might crush him. And he just breaks, erupting into sobs in her arms as the train grows impatient behind them. And then he is hugging her too, holding on for dear life. And for the first time in his short life he calls someone his mom and means it.

All of his worries spill out there on the grass, in the green glare. He knows she is scared and he hates it, hates that he’s a burden, hates that his mother Martha might find him, hates that Johanna is worried on his behalf. The train offered him a way out, he says; a place where he could escape his birth mother’s wrath and no longer burden Johanna, but she shakes her head and holds him tighter still.

She tells Simon she loves him, that she wouldn’t trade him for anything, that she would rather worry about him now than lose him forever and that he will always be her son no matter what the world says. And as he cries more at her words the train lets out a mechanical sigh and departs, leaving them alone on the grass in front of the old house.

I could really put this entire scene from Trains In The Night here; it's probably my favourite scene I've ever written. I'm proud of it for a few reasons; I think the emotions came across really well here, I think it's really effective as a breaking point in the plot, and it's something different. Normally when I write hurt/comfort it's one character who breaks down while the other holds it together; this is very much a mutual breakdown - they've both been though a lot and they're both desperate and crying and it's raw and I love it so much.

8. Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

“Hilda, I…” her mum trailed off, struggling for the right words. “I never, ever wanted you to feel that way.” Hilda felt some of the tightness loosen around her lungs; she reached up, grabbing hold of her mother’s coat and desperately returning the embrace. “I wouldn’t change you for the world, I just… I worry about you, Hilda, and sometimes that gets the better of me.”

Johanna sniffled, even as her daughter’s crying grew quiet, the pain ebbing away. “I… I haven’t been a very good mum lately, have I?”

“And I haven’t been a good daughter,” Hilda replied sadly, unable to bear hearing her mum so upset. But Johanna just tightened her grip again.

“Don’t say that,” she pleaded softly. “Hilda, you’re the kindest, sweetest, bravest girl I know; you’re not a bad person, and I shouldn’t have made you feel like one for being yourself.”

“And you’re the best mum I could ask for,” Hilda insisted, sniffling away the remnants of her tears.

This is another hurt/comfort scene where both characters are hurt, and I love it. This is meant to be the first moment Johanna really understands how she's driven her daughter away, but Hilda isn't blameless either and she feels really bad. I'm really proud of the voices and the emotion behind them, and how they both actually react similarly and comfort each other.

9. Which fic has been the hardest to write?

Ignoring stuff I never finished? Either Hilda and the Secret of Black Rock (due to length) or Nothing's The Same (it was hard to get Johanna's character just right)

10. Which fic has been the easiest to write?

Trains In The Night!! It just came out of nowhere and was done start-to-finish in an hour! The ideas just flowed really well.

12. Is there an episode above all others that inspires you just a little bit more?

Maybe The Old Bells in the sense that it inspired my love of the Bellkeeper and having him interact with Hilda. Also The Deerfox specifically because I think it's the only time we really see Hilda break down in a sad way so it's a crucial reference for whenever I'm writing her hurt or crying, and because it made me want to write about her younger self a lot.

[gothighunicorntolerance]

Fields of Gold- A Deal

AO3 link

Roman stood at the edge of the woods, watching a dark haired mortal girl sulk with a small bouquet of flowers in her hand. Just moments before, she had seemingly been working up the courage to talk to another mortal boy, yet she now sat on the steps leading to what Roman assumed to be her house, her head between her knees and the hood of her cloak pulled over her head to guard against the chilly air.

Roman watched as the mortal girl threw the bouquet beside herself and began to pick at a loose thread on her sleeve. As sunset turned into night, and the other mortals left for their own homes, the dark haired girl with the sad bouquet stayed sitting, head between her knees and hair in her face. 

Seeing his chance, Roman glanced around to make sure there were no spectators before stepping out of the woods, double checking that his disguise was in place. He immediately felt the headache that came with being farther from the woods as he walked down the cobblestone path to where the girl sat. She would likely fulfill Roman’s needs, and if she didn’t, he could simply wipe her memory and find another that would. 

Reciting the script in his head, Roman walked up to the girl and cleared his throat. 

“Excuse me? What’s your name?”

The girl looked up and hesitated for a moment before replying, “You can call me V.”

“Well, V, I have a proposition for you.”

She eyed him suspiciously, and Roman couldn’t blame her. It wasn’t everyday that a stranger came up to you with the intent of making a deal. 

“And what would that be?” She asked, not taking her eyes off him. 

“Well,” Roman paused for drastic effect. “I need you to marry me.”

There was a beat of silence in which he could see the disbelief in V’s eyes. Then, she did something Roman didn’t expect. She started laughing. 

“Me? Of all people, you walk up to me and ask me to marry you? Surely someone as haughty as yourself can find someone much nicer than me, both in looks and tone.”

Roman sighed. This was definitely not going the way he expected it to. He snapped his fingers and dropped his disguise of the son of a well-off lord or something to show his true form, deciding that it was time to be serious. 

The girl abruptly stopped laughing and gasped, open-mouthed at how Roman truly looked. 

She took in his pointed ears and long, pointed teeth, his flowing silky robes and red-and-gold insect-like wings on his back.

“You’re fae,” V said, matter-of-factly. 

“Thank you for pointing out the obvious. Yes, I am fae. I am Prince Roman of the Summer Court, and I have a problem that I would like your help to fix.”

“What could I,” V pointed at herself. “A mortal who isn’t even liked by other humans, do to help you,” she pointed at Roman. “An immortal magic faerie?” 

Roman noticed there wasn’t an insult laced with the description of him, likely because she knew what he was and what he could do. Luckily for her, though, doing something to her would mean that he would have to endure the teasing of the court and disappointed looks of his mother for far longer. 

“Well,” Roman began. “It’s a little complicated. Mind if I sit down?”

Not waiting for her answer, Roman sat next to her. 

“You see, I have to get married, and the thing is, that I don’t want to. I would much rather paint or sing than be expected to court a lady. No offense, of course.”

“None taken,” V grunted. 

“And so, I came up with a plan that I would get married for real but to someone who also didn’t particularly want to get married. This is where you come in. You seem like the kind of person who wants true love or what have you, so I’m going to make a deal. A geas, if you will.”

V sat up at Roman’s mention of a geas. It was a vow that came with magically bestowed gifts and could be given by a faerie to a human if the human agreed to the terms. 

“I will give you the freedom, once married, to sleep with or kiss whomever you would like, along with the thing you want most, be it riches or silks or immortality. Name what you want. The price is leaving this town and going through a marriage ceremony with me.”

V was silent for a minute, thinking, before finally responding. 

“What I want most and what you require I doubt can happen at the same time,” she said, deflating. 

Roman puzzled over her words. What could she possibly want that would make them unable to marry? The only conclusion that Roman could come to was death, but if that was it, there were many ways Roman could think of that she could have attained it already. 

“I’m not sure what you mean by that,” Roman replied. 

“I want to be a boy.”

“What- oh! Oh, I see-“

“Sorry to crush your dreams or whatever-

“No, no! This is even better!” It was Roman’s turn to laugh at the absurdity of it all. What were the chances of him coming across someone who was so perfect for the job?

“What- what do you mean?” V asked tentatively. 

“I like boys, and you want to be one! My mother expected me to get a wife, but I’ll explain the situation, and then poof! Both of our troubles will be gone!”

V sat in stunned silence. She- well, he, actually, seemed truly taken aback by Roman’s reaction. 

“So you- you can really turn me into a boy?” He asked, hopeful. 

“Of course! Stand up, and I’ll do the geas right now, as long as you’re willing to accept my terms.”

“So if I leave here and don’t come back and marry you but not really, I’ll get the body of a boy and the freedom to do whatever I want?”

“Whatever you want within the bounds of legality, yes, that’s exactly it.”

“Then let’s do it. Right now,” V stood. “The only thing is… I want to keep my body, but I also want you to make what’s already here more masculine. Do you know what I mean?”

“I understand. V, are you sure you’re ready? Because once you go through with this, there’s no going back,” Roman held out his hand.

V took a deep breath and took Roman’s. “I’m ready.”

“When I tell you to state your name, say the name you want. Your old name will be replaced by the one you say, so if you don’t know what you want to be called, I can wait for you…?”

“I told you, I’m ready. Let’s get on with it, Princey.”

“Alright, stormcloud.”

Roman closed his eyes and gripped V’s hand, and started to recite the words for the geas. 

“I, Prince Roman of the Summer Court, swear that I will give you your greatest desire and freedom to do as you please if you swear that you will go through a marriage ceremony with me. State you name, desire, and swear that you agree to my terms.”

Red mist-like tendrils of magic swirled around their hands, the first half of the binding oath. 

“I, Virgil Crowe, swear that I will agree to your terms. The thing I most desire is to become a boy. I will go through the marriage ceremony in exchange for that.” Purple tendrils of magic entwined with the red of Roman’s, swirling together to complete the oath. 

Then, as suddenly as it began, the colorful swirls dissipated. Roman and Virgil released their hands from each other. 

Virgil looked around and rubbed his hand, trying to get the feeling back. Who knew magic made you numb?

“That was- woah,” Virgil said, startled. His voice was so deep! “Hold on-”

He turned around and pulled the collar of his shirt down. 

“This- oh my god. Do you have a mirror or something?

Virgil ran a hand through his now-short hair, smiling. 

“This is… literally everything I’ve wanted. Thank you so much,” Virgil’s smile seemed to stretch ear to ear. 

“Well, Virgil, I’m glad I could do my part. But, ah, we still need to get married,” Roman replied, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Right. When does that happen?”

Virgil’s indifference towards the prospect of marriage, while it was almost exactly what Roman wanted, was still a little odd. Who was so casual at agreeing to spend the rest of their life bound to someone they didn’t love, even if both agreed that there was nothing romantic between them? 

Nevertheless, Roman replied, “I’ll expect my mother and the rest of the Summer court will wish to see me court you, and the next full moon after that is when I expect the ceremony will happen. In the meantime, we will pretend to be in love with each other when there are other faeries around, but I expect nothing from you when we are alone.”

“Fair enough. Do you want me to leave town now or…?”

“Don’t you want to say goodbye to your family? Pack anything?” Roman furrowed his eyebrow, quite frankly confused as to why Virgil was willing to leave so soon.

“Nope. My family doesn’t care about me, and I don’t have anything that I care about that I’m not already carrying.”

“Oh,” Roman replied, suddenly regretting asking. “Well, in that case, I guess we can leave now.”

“Great. So what, do you just… start walking into the woods? Are the magic horses? What happens?”

Roman chuckled. “We walk for a bit, and then I essentially take your hand and we walk through a tree.”

“You’re joking, right?”

“What, you make an oath, change your body, and agree to marry me, and it’s walking through a tree that surprises you?”

“Well when you put it that way… the answer is still yes. Getting married and walking through trees are two different things.”

“Fair enough. Shall we?” Roman asked, holding his arm out for Virgil.

“Let’s go walk through a tree, Princey.”

***

It was safe to say that being led through a portal in a tree was perhaps the strangest thing Virgil had done, except for maybe getting the body he had always wanted by promising to marry said man who took him through the portal. 

Stepping out of the hollowed-out tree, Virgil could immediately tell that this world, the realm of the fae, was different from his own, if even in the most subtle ways. The grass was a slightly different shade, the sun just a little too bright. The most unnerving, however, was the creatures who stared at him as he stepped into the thick grass with Roman, standing at the bottom of the hill in front of the largest building Virgil had ever seen. 

“Hail, Prince Roman. Is this who you are courting?” A faerie woman walked up to Roman and Virgil. Virgil could immediately tell that this was Roman’s mother- they had the same green eyes and tanned skin, and the same golden patches on their wings, not to mention that she carried herself with the grace and power of a queen. There was no doubt in Virgil’s mind that the golden-haired woman was the queen of the Summer Court. 

“Yes, mother. This is Virgil,” Roman replied with a bow.

“I must say I was expecting you to come back with a future wife, but no matter.”

She talked as if Virgil wasn’t present, the only indication that she knew he was there was a tilt of her head as she said ‘wife.’ Virgil cringed a bit at that word, but then remembered what Roman had told him. His old name would be forgotten and everyone would see him as he truly was- a boy. 

“A mortal boy?” Roman’s mother put her hand on Virgil’s face and brushed back his hair to show the rounded tips of his ears, not pointed like the ones of the faeries. She frowned, but continued. “I do hope that he has manners, at least?”

Realizing that she was finally talking to him, Virgil hastily replied. “Yes ma’am,” he attempted a bow, feeling somewhat foolish as he did so with his newly-short hair falling in his face. 

She ‘tsk’d’ at him before beckoning the two to follow her towards the crowd of Fair Folk that had gathered. 

“Folk of the Summer, I present to you my son and his future husband. Judge them as you will, but no harm shall befall either,” she raised her arms to gesture at Roman and Virgil, and a cheer went up from the hundred or so fae gathered. Virgil was about to give in and whisper to Roman that he couldn’t stand being felt like he was on display when the queen took them by the arms and led them into the large stone palace. 

Even there, Virgil wasn’t free from the stares of the fae. Most looked human, except for their pointed ears and sharper teeth. And, of course, the wings that sprouted from their backs. Some, like Roman and his mother, had butterfly-like wings, while others had the feathered wings of birds while still others had those of beetles, bats, moths,or dragonflies. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Virgil spotted the faeries who shared little resemblance to humans scurrying around as servants. The servants bore no wings for the most part, and had fur or scales instead of flesh and stood at only about three feet tall. Virgil caught a glimpse of one with the square pupils and of a goat as they looked up at him. 

The world of the faeries was so different from his own, yet Virgil didn’t find himself afraid. Instead he was… hopeful? Was that the correct word? He thought that perhaps things would be different here- there would be no mocking glares or whispered insults (though sometimes the other kids in the village didn’t even have the kindness to whisper). It certainly seemed that it would be different with the faeries, if the reception he and Roman had when his mother introduced them. Instead of outraged cries or calls to stone them, there had instead been a few confused whispers but none had made the move to ostracize them- or worse. So yes, Virgil supposed that hopeful was the right word to use. 

The queen snapping her fingers to summon a servant also snapped Virgil out of his thoughts. He couldn’t help but stare at the one who came up to them- a short, fur-covered faerie, it’s hair a rainbow of colors.

“Take Roman and Virgil to their room,” the queen commanded. The servant bowed and beckoned the two to follow. 

Once out of earshot of his mother, Roman spoke up. “Virgil, this is Talyn. Talyn, this is Virgil. My mother doesn’t like me to acknowledge anyone ‘below my status,” he explained to Virgil using air quotes. “But I think it’s rude. Also, Talyn is very nice.”

Talyn smiled as they opened a door for Virgil and Roman. Inside was the largest bed Virgil had ever seen. Realizing what whoever must have decorated the room intended brought a flush of red to Virgil’s cheeks. 

“Call if you require anything,” Talyn left with a bow.

Roman nodded and entered the room. Virgil stood awkwardly near a table as Roman collapsed on the bed, his red and gold wings taking up nearly half of it. 

“Well, I didn’t expect the fact that there would only be one bed, but we can work something out, right Virge?”

“Uh, yeah. Right.” 

Suddenly the consequences were thrown in his face. Granted, there were much worse consequences, but Virgil didn’t quite feel that sharing a bed with someone who was still almost a complete stranger could be classified as a good thing. 

Then Virgil realized that he didn’t have a change of clothes. All he had was what he was wearing. He voiced his concern to Roman, who stood up from the bed and replied, “Don’t worry about that. I’m sure my mother was planning on giving whoever I brought to marry an entirely new wardrobe anyways. The only thing you do need to worry about is what colors you like,” Roman chuckled. “She’ll want you to ‘fit in’ with the court, but they’re all painfully pretentious pompous partisans.”

“Wow, try saying that five times fast.” “Painfully pretentious pompous partisans! Painfully pretentious pompous partisans!” Roman said it only twice before he started laughing, Virgil joining him in a fit of giggles. 

Things wouldn’t be so bad with Roman if that was what he was like- Virgil could actually get used to living in the faerie realm, and maybe even get used to having to share a bed. 

[achilleid]

Laisrén Blackfern ed.

— oc questions

BASICS

What’s their full name? Laisrén Blackfern

What does their name mean? Why were they named that? Laisrén is a celtic name derived from “lassar” meaning flame/fire. Blackfern is a chosen last name. If you asked him, he’d try to say he picked it because of some profound reason, like because ferns are resilient and hardy plants or something, but he entirely picked it because he thought it sounded cool. 

Do they have any nicknames? Rén. Pronounced like “rain”. 

How old are they? Time functions really oddly in the Sidhe. When he last lived in the human realm, he was seventeen human years. That was nearly a century or more ago by human time. Physically he appears about 32-33.

When’s their birthday? December 29th (human) or 9th Day of Winter (Sidhe)

What’s their zodiac sign/element/birthstone/etc.? Do they believe that holds any significance? Capricorn/earth/tanzanite-- Laisrén believes in zodiac signs in a very nonchalant way. He is from a magical world where all kinds of weird stuff happen when someone is born, so being told some aspect of his personality is theoretically identifiable by his “sign” he’d probably just shrug like “Sounds legit.”.

What’s their species/subspecies? Do they have any special/magical abilities? He is a half Seelie/half-Unseelie Folk. Folk are presented in my world like a combination of elves and fae. Seelie are generally characterized by their more warm toned skin colors, affiliation with the light, spring and summer, Unseelie are associated with autumn and winter and tend to favor darker, cooler tones. Laisrén is a mix of both types. There are stereotypes associated with each kind of Folk, but ultimately it is entirely based on the individual.

What “class” do they belong to (for fantasy characters)? If none, what weapon do they favor? He would definitely be a Ranger class, duel-wielding swords and using a bow. 

APPEARANCE

What do they look like? Laisrén owes 90% of his appearance to Levi Ackerman from Attack on Titan I won’t even lie. So he is roughly 5′9″, has dark black undercut hair and dark green eyes. He has a warm beige skin tone that darkens in the summer. 

Do they have a face claim? Nope!

What’s their style like? Clothes, hair, makeup? His go to outfit is a black doublet with a silver jerkin over the top. During combat, he favors a set of dark leather armor and a dark cloak. Lots of dark colors. For a half Seelie, he dresses almost exclusively in the dark or jewel colors favored by Unseelie.

How do they carry themselves? What’s their default expression? Perpetual resting bitch face. And he carries himself with an air of self-assuredness and confidence that is entirely unforced. It is just how he is. Granted, he could look cool and collected and inside his thoughts are going a mile a minute. Very good at hiding how he feels.

Do they have any physical ailments or disabilities? Laisrén was saddled with a curse at a young age. His skin, starting at the fingertips of his right hand, is turning black and spreading upward. As of present day, his hand has blackened up to his palm. His nails grow much sharper and faster on that hand as well. Laisrén covers this with gloves.

PERSONALITY

What’s their alignment? Lawful Neutral

Which one of the 16 Personality Types do they fit into? ISTP

What are their hobbies and interests? Do they have any particular “favorites” (food, books, and so on)? He is a big fan of games, especially strategy games. He would love Risk, History of the World and other games like that and probably plays Folk equivalents when he can. Chess too. He’d enjoy card games there were not luck based. He also does like to read and his favorite meal ever is high tea. The man will try any blend of tea ever created and he loves having a nice herb garden.

What are they bad at? He is not the best cook. Food is something to just be consumed as quickly as possible for energy, so getting him to sit down and have a meal and just ENJOY it is very hard. He also is a fitful sleeper and is very bad at picking up on subtext or subtleties when speaking with people. He does not take hints. He does not even know a hint is happening.

What kind of things do they dislike/hate? Disorganization, MESS in general. This is both literal and figurative. Messy emotions will have him cleaning the same room, polishing the same armor or sharpening the same blade in a wholly meditative process trying to either work through or ignore his feelings.

Do they have any vices/addictions/mental illnesses? His secret vice is his love of sweets. Food is mere fuel until it is chocolate and covered in strawberries or something and then he is like “.... okay maybe a few bites.”

What are their goals and motivations? Currently? Managing his curse, keeping an eye on his “niece” and her son. Caring for his mother secretly. His goals later become more aligned with the main character’s and becomes ensuring the safety of those he cares for. Full stop.

What are their manners like? Any habits? He is not impolite, but he can be brash. He knows how to behave in different situations though, so his “brash” on the field and his “brash” at say a gathering or a meeting is very different. He has a habit of clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth when he is annoyed and only ever breaks eye contact with someone if he is feeling wholly and deeply vulnerable. 

What are they most afraid of? Living for centuries upon centuries only to turn around and realize he has done so alone and always will.

BACKGROUND

Where were they born? What was their childhood like? He was born in the Sidhe, but within a week was abandoned in the human realm. His childhood was spent raised in an orphanage during the early 1900s on Earth. He lived in London and sometimes falls into a cockney sounding accent when he is tired. 

What’s their family like? Well. His mom is thought to be absolutely bonkers because she pulled a changeling thing. And she is, on some level, mentally not all there. In Folk culture, there are some events that can cause a Folk to become trapped in one emotion and unable to overcome the enormity of it and remain “stuck” there. His mother fell into a Despair upon the death of her partner, so he cares for her and the remaining family of her human adopted son from the shadows.

What factions or organizations are they a part of? What ranks and titles do they hold? He is a Hound of the Wild Hunt and Captain beneath the commander responsible for training new recruits. He trains the soldiers of their ranks.

How do they fit into their “story”? He is at one point in the story, love interest, secondary protagonist, secondary antagonist. 

Where do they currently live? What’s their place like? He resides in a home called Elden Keep, which is a an old fortress manor that once was used as a hunting lodge. It has a western tower with a turret. It is a house of rich brown woods and plush green carpets and a very lovingly tended to garden.

How do they eventually die? WELLLLLLLLL-- they eventually succumb to the curse, but it is temporary. More like an emotional and mental death and then a rebirth. 

RELATIONSHIPS

Do they have any friends? Would they consider anyone to be their best friend? His commander Eimer and his fellow captains. Later, he becomes closer friends with Cyra’s group.

What’s their friend group like? What role do they play in it? He is definitely not even the oddest of his group, that belongs to Dillion, the resident mad scientist/mage (he’s nice! just eccentric). It is a nice blend of people and neurosis haha.

What’s their love life like? (See also: ship question meme.) Do they have any kids? Prior to his relationship with Cyra, Laisrén would have casual encounters, but nothing serious. His longest fling lasted probably off and on for a few months. He has no issues with accepting and reciprocating sexual advances, but has not had a lot of experience with feelings being mixed in until Cyra. With Cyra it starts physical, but ultimately he realizes it is satisfying in a way that past ones have not been because his emotional needs are being met.

Who do they look up to? Who do they trust? He looks up to and trusts Eimer above everyone. He is his best friend, his commander and his fellow Hound. They went through recruitment together, battles and all kinds of bad shit. 

Who do they hate? Do they have any enemies? His enemies unfortunately, when revealed, are some powerful people. He grows to hate Queen Nevan and by extension, Druth, Cyra’s uncle and the Queen’s grand commander.

Do they have any pets? He has a few horses, but he’d never refer to them as “pets”.

Are they good with kids? Animals? Good with animals. Kids he is shockingly popular with, even if he doesn’t really make an effort. They appreciate his honesty and the fact he talks to them like they understand things.

[peachyteabuck]

cold-blooded & perfect

summary: In a move less orthodox than your father, Lagertha invades a country expecting to raid it, but instead merely takes its princess – you. While you’re surprised, you’re not necessarily unhappy with her sudden change of heart.  

pairing: Lagertha x Reader

words: 2,896

trigger warnings: kidnapping, taking of virginity, vaginal fingering, poor family ties

notes/other: Breaking into the Vikings fandom hell YEAH. feels good. 

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

The Vikings invade your homeland with fire in their eyes and bloodlust on their tongues. The small, untrained army assigned to protect your country is defeated in a matter of minutes, those left with heartbeats either taken captive for later use or killed when they drop their swords. Your father, still in his most lavish robes from the festivities the night before, is forced out to the capital’s center with his hands up and his spine perpendicular to the sharp blade of one of their savage warriors.

From your place in your unscathed room, far up in the vast castle, you anxiously watch the exchange between the leaders. It’s there, as your eyes follow your father’s footsteps, that you notice the rest of the army fathering round him like flies swarm an almost-deceased rabbit; nearly vibrating with excitement, unable to stop their twitchy movements as they circle his shaking form.

While your country is small, its position lining the ocean shore makes it a necessary siege on the pathway to the more inwards parts of the continent. You’ve known this all your life, you know your father has known this for all of his, and you know the foreigners’ leader knows this now.

You can’t quite understand how this woman, this woman decked in the same armor as her underlings, has climbed her way to the top of whatever hierarchy they’ve formed. You can tell she’s powerful though, can tell she isn’t afraid to grasp whole worlds in her hands. As she speaks to your father, the small smirk her lips have twisted themselves into manipulates your insides in a way you cannot describe, and do not try to begin to.

“So,” she asks him, words choppy and accented and curious. “You are king here?��

Like those loyal to her, she circles him. Unlike the rest of them, though, she is not waiting for the creature to give up. Oh, never would she miss the chance to take down anyone who stood in her pathway to victory, to gold, to whatever it is she craves. Her bright teeth remind you of a she-wolf, and your father’s trembling body reminds you of an injured goat.

“Yes,” he answers truthfully. His works shake worse than his limbs as she replies to his numerous questions.

“And do you value the protection of your people?”

Your father gulps but stands a little straighter. “Of course. God gave me the crown to serve Him as well as my people.”

The woman shrugs and leans on her sword, with its sharped point in the ground and the handle covered by her hands. “You know, I’ve heard a lot about your god, you single, individual god,” the women and men behind her chuckle, but she remains stoic. “Does this god accept sacrifices?”

“He sacrificed his Son for us, and in turn we sacrifice for Him, to show our love and appreciation,” your father speaks lowly, words more confident and steadier. The rehearsed string of sentences flowing easily from his lips, and you roll your eyes and pull away from the window. The king, your father, the ruler of your country, the father of your motherland, is no holy man. The mistresses he’s had out-number the maggots in a deer’s corpse, he couldn’t identify the Holy Bible from a child’s drawings made in pools of mud, the cross he supposedly wears has become tarnished from lack of human touch.

Whatever. If he gets beheaded in the town’s square the man you’ve been betrothed to since the very second the doctor turned his nose up at your absence of a penis. You know very little about the Viking culture, their religion, their gods, but you assume they’re smart enough to know killing a princess gains them nothing but a martyr for the opposite side.

The sound of your name pulls you from your disgusted internal monologue.

“And how old is this daughter?” The woman asks. Your father is now on the ground – not injured, just a coward.

“Old enough to wed,” he replies. He doesn’t seem scared anymore. You, though, tremble in fear.

“Then a truce,” the woman smiles brighter than the sun and her eyes gleam. “I will take the woman and we will leave your land. If you promise no contact, my people and I will not invade as long as I am ruler.”

“Okay,” your father agrees immediately. “I will allow my daughter to go with you for my country’s safety.”

Your eyes bulge as you realize what just happened.

What the fuck.

You have mere heartbeats to process the chaos your future has been thrown into before several men are storming into your room. To your surprise, the men don’t grab at you – they simply stand by the door to prevent you from leaving. You’re their captor, but at least they’re passive about it.

From behind them, the blonde woman from the square emerges. She smirks as her eyes trail your body from your bare feet to your sleep-mused hair.

“Congratulations, princess,” she tells you, playful tone floating through the air like fae. “You’ve saved your nation from the savage beasts that are the Vikings.”

You’re allowed to pack one trunk – the woman, who introduces herself as Lagertha as you shove your mother’s locket deep into the pocket of your favorite winter coat - already knows your name, and soon her routine questions and vies for attention turn personal, intimate.

Nevertheless, your answers remain curt through the entire time you’re with her in your chambers.

“I heard your mother died when you were young. I’m terribly sorry for your loss,” she whispers in the darkness of night as you both lay in her temporary bed, a straw thing a few feet from your own plush amenities.

You don’t say anything back, forcing through the uncomfortable silence with purse lips.

A beat. You can hear Lagertha turn to face you as she speaks. “Do you miss her?”

You sigh, then nod. “Sometimes. I don’t really remember her. She died when I was pretty young, and she had a lot of kingdom-y stuff to attend to when she was alive.”

Another beat. Your breaths come out shaky, your attempts not to shed tears

“Do you have any siblings?” she tries to change the subject as she notices the tears welling up in your eyes and reflecting the bright half-moon.

“Six older sisters,” you tell her honestly. “All married off and living in foreign lands, like I was supposed to…”

The silence between you two is heavy, blanketing you heavier than the furs keeping the cold night air from your skin. Neither of you speak for a long time, unsure of how to proceed. It’s awkward, painfully so, when you’re shoved into a small ship and told to sit with a woman who had injured her ankle hunting a few hours prior to boarding the small boat.

You and her are silent most of the journey, the conversations you manage to get yourself to engage with short, choppy, impersonal. Similar situations happen with Lagertha each time she offers food, water, an extra fur, someone else to sit next to.

The first full sentence you speak is when you’re brought to Lagertha’s bed, the trunk carried by two of the most muscular women you’ve ever seen in your life.

It’s once they exit that the words leave your lips. “Are the women here warriors as well as the men?”

Lagertha laughs a little as she drinks from a gauntlet you don’t remember seeing before now. “Of course. They’re women, not frail babies.”

You don’t respond, simply looking around the room. Lagertha leaves you alone after that, allowing you to unpack your things and learn the map of the house of which you’ll be living.

The two of you don’t speak until dinner, an affair she keeps small for, it seems, your benefit. It’s just one of her sons – Bjorn, and his wife. This isn’t the first time you’ve seen the Vikings eat, nor is it the first time you’ve heard them speak in their native tongue, a language foreign to your ears. But, it is the first time you haven’t been able to hide yourself from such savagery.

They bite into their meats like bears tasting the first taste of flesh in months and their unintelligible babble rakes in your ears like rusty knives through hardened wood.  All of their words seem angry, biting, even when they laugh or smile.

For the entirety of the meal Lagertha keeps her hand on your lower back, a gesture you believe (hope) is meant to comfort you.

The verbal exchanges between you two are scarce, especially since you’d insisted of sleeping in a different bed as your captor.

It’s about a week in this new, still-strange place when Lagertha approaches you as you hunt through your things for something, anything to do. She can tell you’re bored, mind-numbingly so as you spend your days pacing her keep. It reminds her of a dog locked in a pen without straw or bones or rocks and far enough away from society they and their masters do not breathe the same breaths.

She seems to understand what you’re looking for, sitting on the bed. You’re kneeling on the floor, and you can feel her feet bump at your hip as she speaks.

“What did you back in your home country?” Lagertha asks you.

“Not much,” you admit. “Back home for me is…it’s quite different from here…” Even as you speak your native tongue, you struggle to find the right words. “Women don’t do much. They, they all, they all think that we’re weaker somehow, that we can’t do much. As a royal all I was permitted to do was learn to sew, cook. A servant once taught me some medicinal skills – so I studied those old books sometimes.”

Lagertha sees you struggling, and as she speaks she attempts to comfort you with a hand on your shoulder. “Would you like to continue those things?”

You inhale deeply, considering the question. Lagertha’s not a malicious woman – at least not to you. So far she’s been kind, welcoming; doesn’t seem like the type to deny you such basic commodities as the ones you would ask for. In hopes of not feeling the sharp pain of rejection, you respond with the polite passivity you’d had quite aggressively drilled into your vernacular. “It’d be a nice pastime, yes.”

Lagertha smiles, your eyes locking together. Hers are bright, playful, while yours remain stilled with fear. “You are quite small in your speech, princess. I hope you in time learn to be more upfront with yourself, your wants, your needs.”

You swallow at the thick knot in your throat, one that isn’t quite terrified but still shakes when she pushes a small strand of hair behind your hear. “It is improper for a lady to be so forceful.”

Lagertha simply laughs. Big, chesty, head thrown back laughs. “Is that what they taught you? To be some meek little doll?” You nod meekly with small movements. “Then I hope you learn life is much different here.”

It’s the day after that you find some crude crafting supplies laid out onto your bed – some thick, blunt needles and furs and rough fabric and thread. It’s sweet, despite not being what you’re used to, despite not being the finer things the servants taught you with. No more brightly-colored silken thread and soft, thin fabric. Nonetheless, it is still a gift – and one you treasure.

Winter in this region comes much sooner, and much harsher, than you had expected. Of course, the locals giggled each time you shivered at a mere featherlight kiss of the wind, but even the seer couldn’t predict how poorly the fragile skin wrapping your body was able to withstand such cold.

It’s a few night falls into the deep season when you find yourself on the small bed just outside the kitchen, shaking so hard your teeth clack together and your very bones feel as if they are freezing. In the dead of this night is when Lagertha appears to take pity on you, calling for you across the homestead for you to join her in her bed.

You reluctantly you do, body shivering violently at the raw exposure to air.

Under the furs Lagertha’s body is warm, almost painfully so against your frigid flesh. If the queen notices you shaking against her, she doesn’t say anything about it.

Wordlessly, she curls herself around you, pulling you two together. It’s not an action that’s unwelcome, but it’s still one that makes a specific type of shive run up your spine. This sort of intimacy, especially between two women, was forbidden back home.  To think of a maiden or one of your father’s servant bursting in to find you – little, unmarried you - in the muscular arms of some woman who fights like a man, your heart quickens at the scandal it would bring. Just imagining the villagers, the people your father rules over, having such ammunition would plunge your country, your nation, your people, into despair.

The woman wrapped around you senses your distress. “Are you okay, love?” she asks, voice low like she’s talking to your father’s dog – a small white thing that shakes every time it rains.

Your words barely reach above a whisper. “Just thinking of home.”

She mmms in a way that makes you think she knows you’re hiding something. “Good memories or bad?”

You pull away from her a little bit, trying to find purchase on the slick furs. “They’re not memories at all.”

Lagertha pulls you back to her, resting her chin on the top of your hair. “Let me help, love,” she whispers just over the shell of your ear. “Let me help you.”

Her rough fingertips, her scarred hands, they run over your skin with featherlight touches over your many skin blemishes inherited from your mother.

Still, you lay passively, not sure what to do. Your headmistresses over the years had described sex not just as an act between man and wife, but also something that will hurt, that will be quick, that will simply be to solidify an heir, then to strengthen the diplomatic capabilities of the family you’d be married off to. No matter your education, you can still feel the heat between your legs pool slightly faster than your trembling heart can convince you to stop.

Lagertha daintily pushes the two sides of the slit in your address apart, just enough to give her access to the side of your hip and upper thigh. Lightly, as if not to scare you, she places her calloused, scarred, battle-torn hand there. It’s nice, surprisingly enough, it’s nice to see her warmth there. “Have you ever been with a woman?” She asks. It’s not accusatory, rather inquisitive. A genuine question stemming from genuine interest.

You think of the time you kissed one of your lady’s maids when you were twelve and she was thirteen, of the time you snuck away under a table in the kitchen and palmed at the breasts of a kitchen maid when you were both sixteen. Each experience more intimidating than this one – most likely due to the lack of dread from the idea of your father or headmistress or anyone finding you in such a state of sin.

Lagertha’s teeth bite into the tender flesh of your neck, leaving marks there. You’re happy your thick hair covers such an intimate spot, but something inside you whispers to expose such skin to the murderous winter as to alert the fellow Kattegat residents of your newfound status as lover rather than captive.

Her fingers dip into your virgin heat with patience, the woman watching your face’s every movement as she works each digit into you. “Do you like that, princess?” she asks, voice deep and low. “Do you like the way I feel inside of you?”

You nod, unable to speak anything but high-pitched whines.

“Good,” she purrs. Soon she has three fingers working in and out of you, crooking them so that all you see is hot white with her thumb rubbing at the crest of your center so behind all that is stars. It’s not long before the hot coil in your lower intestine becomes too tight, too tight to bear and you’re screaming for her to keep going don’t stop please my queen do not stop for anything in the world and she’s smiling into the base of your neck and nipping at your collarbones and telling you she wouldn’t let go of you for promise of Valhalla and suddenly-

Suddenly you’re both gasping and unable to breath, squeezing your eyes shut and keeping them locked on Lagertha’s form now over you with her hand driving into you, body relaxed and tense.

You collapse (when did you sit up?) onto the furs with your chest expanding painfully. “Oh, God,” you moan with the world still spinning around you.

“That’s not me,” Lagertha says with a smirk. “But I’ll happily take the compliment.”

You almost, almost have the energy to laugh at her stupid joke, but instead you merely throw her a small smile and curl back into the warmth of her body. Part of you thinks that maybe, just maybe this is the start of a love you don’t have to fear.

[rufousnmacska]

Secrets and Confessions Part 3

A Crescent City Ruhn-Hypaxia fic

Things have just begun to settle down since the demon attack on Lunathion. But nothing is back to normal. Two archangels are dead and the asteri have yet to name successors. Certain House leaders and lower members have been making plans of their own as a rebellion against the angels begins to form. The mer, witches, shifters, humans, even some from Hel are secretly in contact with each other. All are wondering if and how to involve the fae. The newly crowned witch queen knows a certain fae prince that she thinks can be trusted. And might be vital to their success. The fact that his father hoped to arrange a marriage alliance between them, or that he is distractingly handsome … well, those shouldn’t interfere with her work. No, not at all. 

Part 1 (only on AO3)

Part 2

***

Part 3

***

Ruhn woke to the sound of a shower running and a song being hummed. The melody was unfamiliar, but the occasional words and the long, low notes made him think it was an old song. Perhaps some ballad only witches knew. Smiling, he lay still, listening to Hypaxia’s voice resonate through her small apartment. He felt no rush to move, though the thought of joining her entered his mind. If not for her busy day ahead, he would have.

A few months had passed since their first dinner. And while she’d been away for days at a time during those weeks, whenever she was back in Lunathion, he’d spend the nights here. They made due with their phones when they were separated, texting and talking.

He hated the constant leaving, but he found he enjoyed those interactions over the phone. It felt like they were taking things slowly, like he was getting to know her on a deeper level. And she was drawing things from him that he probably wouldn’t talk about in person. All this despite the fact that he was with her almost every night when she was in the city.

Looking around her bedroom, sparsely furnished with simple pieces and a subdued color scheme of greens and blues – to remind her of the forests where she grew up? – Ruhn cringed at the thought of Hypaxia in his house. Even if he had it cleaned from floor to ceiling, had all the damage from parties repaired, something about having her stay there felt wrong. He didn’t think she’d care. But he would. He was starting to care about a lot of things he never gave a thought to before.

Mostly his drinking and the drugs. He hadn’t given up those vices completely. And she hadn’t asked him to. It was just … this feeling he had that he wanted to try and be better in some ways. Hypaxia wasn’t the only force behind this new leaf. Reconnecting with Bryce was making him want to change some things too.

The downside, to both relationships, was the thing he was caring too much about. The Oracle’s prophecy that he’d be the end of the royal bloodline was haunting him more and more often these days. He fucking hated wasting time on it, but it always popped up, gnawing at him during the most unexpected times. Like right now. 

Hypaxia turned off the water but continued humming.

Should he tell her? Or did she already know somehow? If he did tell her, was that implying he saw a future with her? She’d told him at the Summit that wasn’t something she was interested in. Had her mind changed? Or was this just a fling to her? What was it to him? Besides something new and exciting. And, increasingly, a big part of his life …

Sitting up and running his hands through his hair, he swore under his breath. He was acting like a teenager for fuck’s sake.

Hearing her walk back into the room, he regained his composure and turned to find her wearing only a big blue towel. He should have gotten in the shower, the Hel with her meetings.

As if reading his mind, she smiled apologetically and said, “I’m running late. You’re bad for my normal eight hours of sleep.”

Ruhn just laughed, thinking that he might be getting more sleep now than he used to. She turned to her closet and began to pull out clothes to change into. Noticing the time, he jumped out of bed and headed for the kitchen. “Tea or coffee?”

“Oh, I suppose coffee today,” she called back.

After starting the coffee, he rummaged through the refrigerator to pull out some jam for the muffins he’d brought with him the night before. He sucked at cooking food, but he was great at buying it. He’d even tracked down a little shop that sold cloudberry jam, something that was hard to find outside the Heliruna Mountains. She came out a few minutes later and sat at the little table where he’d set up her breakfast.

Taking a sip of still steaming coffee, she moaned and said, “You’re forgiven for keeping me up so late.”

He leaned against the counter and watched her eat.

“Aren’t you hungry?” she asked.

Ruhn didn’t hold back on the grin he gave her, loving the sight of the red blush that crept over her cheeks. “I’m fine,” he said, deciding against taking her back to bed. She was a queen after all. It would be bad form for her to show up to an important meeting with the angels twenty minutes late. Or an hour. Or two.

That was one way this arrangement was frustrating. When she was in the city, her days were full, either in her role as queen or as a medwitch. She still kept the clinic open, though only for appointments. He wished they had a few days just to themselves. But he understood. His schedule for the Aux allowed for little free time.

Hypaxia ate quickly. As she gathered her things, he said, “I don’t like that you don’t have a security detail. You’re royalty. Surely there’s a queen’s guard.”

She gave him a smile that he couldn’t read. “There was for my mother, and now for special events. But for every day, I can handle myself.”

He knew that. She had her own set of magical skills aside from her already impressive ability to heal. That didn’t mean he liked it. Things were calm right now. But he knew, they all knew, it wouldn’t last. There still wasn’t an archangel in charge. Isiah was fine, keeping things in order and making sure the city ran smoothly. But he was a temp, waiting each day for the announcement about his replacement. None of that really bothered Ruhn, except there were rumblings that a rebellion was taking shape. Dec had dug around, unsuccessfully, for any intelligence that might suggest who was involved. Even Flynn’s spy network came up empty. When he had to give his father updates, he was sure to keep the annoyance off his face. The Autumn King was pissed by the lack of intel only because that left him out of the loop, which left him unable to control everything. His father wasn’t quiet about his desire to rule instead of the angels, at least around his son. Ruhn was pissed because he wanted to help. Not to hand the city over to his father. No fucking way would he take part in that. He just wanted the angels, the psychotic ones anyway, gone. Micah and Sandriel were a huge first step. But they were child’s play compared to the asteri.

“Dinner?” she asked.

Ruhn sighed. “I’m on duty tonight.”

Hypaxia’s brow creased slightly as she leaned in to kiss him goodbye. “Be careful.”

“I can handle myself, your majesty.” She wrinkled her nose before smiling. “I know this really talented medwitch I can call if I get into trouble.” He kissed her again, then watched her leave.

*****

As Hypaxia unlocked her door and entered her apartment – empty, dark, quiet – she realized how quickly she’d gotten used to Ruhn being here. The thought bothered her.

Not because she’d come to see they were a good match. And not because she was scared of her growing feelings for him.

His absence was a problem because it reminded her of how precarious this situation was becoming. For some reason, the other rebel leaders were still dragging their feet about bringing Ruhn into their ranks. With each day that passed, each week and then month of keeping this secret … all the while falling for him … The guilt was beginning to weigh upon her, more heavily than even her mother’s crown.

This time, the thought that sprang to mind made her smile. The cloudberry jam Ruhn had brought here for their too few breakfasts together. She’d never told him it was her favorite, and he likely got it because of the red and gold crown she wore for official events. Like so many other things with him, he’d probably guessed. But he guessed right.

Her magic and premonitions told her the connection building between them was not a thing to be taken lightly. Which made her deception all the more difficult.

A part of her kept saying he’d understand. Ruhn was intelligent and politically savvy. He would understand why her involvement with the rebellion would be risky to discuss. Even with him.

But another part, the part that was growing ever louder with each passing day, was worried he would only see it through a lens of trust. From their late night conversations when she was traveling, she’d quickly gathered that letting people in wasn’t easy for him. Learning she was deceiving him, even if it was at the order of the other leaders and not by her own choice … she didn’t want to imagine his reaction.

Just as she was about to get something to eat, her phone rang. She found herself smiling, expecting his face on the screen. But it wasn’t Ruhn.

“Can you meet tonight? In the usual spot?” Tharion asked.

They all had a complex web of spellwork on their phones to keep prying eyes and ears away, but they still had to be careful. The “usual spot” was near the River Gate, so that Tharion wouldn’t have far to go out of the water. And it was a public park without a lot of cameras  leaving some rare blindspots in this city of constant surveillance. Hypaxia hesitated for a moment, wondering where Ruhn’s Aux duties took him in the city.

“Hello?” The mer sounded annoyed, which didn’t bode well for a quick meet up.

“Yes,” she said, trying not to return the mood. “Half an hour?”

“Sounds good.”

She glanced at the half empty box of pastries as she turned toward the door. And made a decision. To Hel with it. She trusted Ruhn, and needed his help. Tomorrow, she would tell him everything.

Hypaxia was at the small park before Tharion arrived. Pretending to be on an evening walk, she found a secluded bench and sat, waiting while she pulled out her phone. She didn’t need to pretend to look busy. She was still getting used to the countless red tape and little fires that needed to be put out that came with being queen. All the years of training and education, which she was immensely grateful for, had not prepared her in every way for ruling. Many of her mother’s advisors had continued on to serve her. But there were enough empty positions that needed to be filled that some days felt as though she’d been drowned in paperwork. The bureaucracy of the angels was an entirely different headache. As she scrolled through her messages, she allowed herself a short daydream about a day off.

The dream was indeed short lived, as Tharion appeared behind her and sat close by.

Their conversation was terse and quiet, exchanging only necessary details and updates. Some new shifters had joined the cause, and the rebels would be meeting next week to consider making inroads into the human groups fighting on the far continent.

Hypaxia couldn’t hide her annoyance. These were things that could have been sent by coded messages. It didn’t warrant an in person meeting. Letting the stress get to her, she asked, “And what about Ruhn? When can we bring him in?”

Tharion frowned. “My queen says no. Jesiba said no. I’m still working on them.”

She swore under her breath. “This is ridiculous. We need him. The prophecy says-”

“I know what it says. I know what they all say,” Tharion countered. “I’m trying. I don’t know why they’re resisting. Maybe because of his father. But it’s clear to me, he’s no lap dog to the Autumn King.”

“No, he’s not.”

The deep voice that was not Tharion’s froze her to the core.

Hypaxia spun around to see Ruhn only a few yards away.

“Fuck,” Tharion growled, standing and moving to block her from the hellish glare emanating from those normally kind blue eyes. “Danaan, this isn’t what you think.”

Ruhn barked out a humorless laugh. Despite the presence of the large mer between them, Hypaxia still felt his stare. Cutting and cold and hurt.

“I overheard enough to know it’s exactly what I think it is,” Ruhn said. “What I’m unclear about is why? I don’t have shit for magic. I’m apparently not trustworthy.” Tharion tried to interrupt but Ruhn told him to fuck off. The mer shut up but didn’t move.

Hypaxia was still frozen and silent. And she knew that was making things infinitely worse. If this had been some sort of lover’s tryst she’d been caught in, she didn’t think he’d be as upset. But this betrayal … this cut Ruhn deeper than anything else that could have happened.

Regaining her thoughts, her surroundings, her self, Hypaxia stood and walked around Tharion. She wasn’t prepared for the full force of his anger, and flinched away from it. His face fell even further at her reaction. She knew, through her healing abilities, she could sense his emotions, and knew what was coming.

You’ve been using me.

It wasn’t a question. And those were the words she’d feared since this all began. Since she’d thrown all her sensibility and caution to the wind and told him to call her.

Keeping me close, leashed like a dog, for when you needed me. For another fucked up prophecy.

No! Please Ruhn.

Her eyes were filling with tears as she tried to decide if she should tell him the truth, that she was falling in love with him. Or should she let him go? For his own good.

Tharion was staring back and forth between them, clueless about the telepathic communication, and unwilling to give them any privacy. His knowledge of their growing relationship was minimal, but he wasn’t an idiot. He’d seen the way Ruhn watched her at the Summit. Had even kept a tally of how often the starborn prince looked her way.* She didn’t want an audience, but he refused to leave.

That’s not true. I’m not with you to trick you into anything. I care about you.

“Bullshit,” Ruhn said with another dark laugh. His face seemed to clear of all emotions, a calm, uncaring mask put firmly in place. Before turning to leave, he said, “Don’t bother calling.”

Before she could say anything more, he disappeared into shadows and was gone.

As her legs threatened to give out, Hypaxia went back to the bench and practically fell onto it.

“Shit,” Tharion said, over and over, with other curses mixed in. When he turned to find her looking as if she’d been punched in the gut – more like her heart – he ran over. “Sorry.” She sniffed and wiped away some tears. “Shit,” he repeated. “I didn’t know you and him were …” He had the grace not to continue.

“He and I,” she said, twisting around to stare into the darkness where Ruhn had just been standing.

Tharion swore again, then said, “Okay. Let’s get you home. Give him a little time and then ignore that part about not calling him. He’s mad, but he’s not stupid.”

Hypaxia nodded her head numbly. What the Hel had just happened? She felt shell-shocked. One minute, she was imagining where she and Ruhn might go to escape all their responsibilities, if only for a day or two. And the next … her chest was cracked open, she couldn’t breathe, and she had no one to blame but herself.

Tharion was right. Ruhn wasn’t dumb. Which was why she knew he would not answer, no matter how many times she called.

*****

He’d been useless the rest of his patrol, keeping himself apart from the others so he wouldn’t explode in rage at them. Ultimately, unsurprisingly, he’d failed at that, blowing up at Declan when he innocently mentioned the rebels.

Alone in his room, empty bottles around him, smoke hanging in the air, chasing a high that might pull him up from this endless bottom, Ruhn couldn’t get her out of his head. Every word, every look, every expression ran on a loop. There was a faint voice telling him that in this state, he could analyze each second he’d spent with her and she’d look guilty as Hel.

“Fuck you”, he told it, turning his music up louder.

But the voice didn’t melt away with the rest of his senses. It just started unloading more truths.

He was a rare starborn fae with hardly any power for light. Instead, he dealt in shadows and mind-reading.

He would be the end of his family bloodline. By choice, by violence, by rebellion, he didn’t know.

He was chosen to wield the starsword but it called to his sister. Had their shared blood attracted it to begin with? Was it using him to get to her?

Just like his father used him. Never treated him like a son. Never loved him.

And now Hypaxia.

He refused to let that thought continue. Refused to think of the L word in association with her.

Ruhn laughed, deep and without humor, the sound foreign and chilling him to the bone.

They could use him all they wanted. None of it fucking mattered since he wasn’t really the Chosen One anyway. He was powerless, a blight on his family, a placeholder. A fucking idiot for thinking himself worthy of her.

Finally, the drugs seemed to take hold and he felt himself falling, floating, spinning. Cranking the music up, he concentrated on the freedom of no longer caring.

*****

My fanfic master list on tumblr and my writing on AO3 (mostly manorian with a little nessian)

Thanks for reading! If you’d like to be tagged, let me know :)

tagging @itach-i @queen-of-glass

*Full disclosure - Tharion counting the number of times he caught Ruhn watching Hypaxia during the summit was not my idea. It’s from this post by @sarcasticbookdragon and I love it!

[flowerflamestars]

Petals and Rain

Elucien, Post ACOTAR & Pre ACOMAF, Part One here

His hair was the color of old blood when wet- she couldn’t look away from the muted vibrancy, the water he didn’t even seem to notice racing down his bright skin. In the daytime dark of the storm, his remaining eye gleamed like a predators, the lack of light destroying any pleasantry that might mute how otherworldly he was.  To Elain’s eyes, Lucien was a creature of the forest. The beautiful clothes, the fine knives, the articulate speech- seeing him like this made it very clear those were things he would take on and off, as easily as she might change dresses. Not human, not human, her rapid pulse seemed to be saying. Soaked to the bone, she could see every defined muscle, even the faint shine of immortal skin, through the wreckage of his fine lawn shirt. Beautiful, her brain answered her heart, more beautiful than anything she’d ever seen.  “Elain,” Lucien said again, his voice rougher than she’d ever heard. “Tell me you’re alright.”  Of course she was alright- was her blush so hard he thought she were ill? That would be just her luck, to go along with her inability to speak properly at the sight of him. Before Elain could open her mouth, before she could even try to speak, he’d gripped her shoulders.  Not hard, so gentle, the way Elain touched flower blossoms. She was frozen, entranced as he traced her arms, his soaked sleeves leaving trails of water on her skin. Finally, he came to her hands and flipped them, palm up, searching. She wondered if his golden eye was magic, if that was the force that held her pinned in place. Or if it was simply the electricity of his skin on hers, the spark she’d never felt before.  “You’ve okay,” He breathed, like a prayer.  That, finally, broke her spell. “Of course I am,” she said, making her voice bright. “But you’re not, you must be frozen.” He didn’t respond at all when she pulled on his hands, tried to bring him deeper into the room. Lucien was as otherworldly still as he’d been the day she found him in her garden, still in that way human bodies weren’t strong enough to become.  “You’re okay.” He repeated, at normal volume now, voice still rough. “But you used the acorn.”  The tiny golden perfect acorn, always warm to the touch. Magic, Elain, assumed. She’d found it tucked in her garden with a note the day after she’d seen him last. Careful instructions in what she had to assume was his own hand, telling her that is she ever needed him, all she needed to do was twist the top three times and speak his name.  She’d hidden it away among her ribbons for a full month before giving into the curiosity to use it, giving into the pull of wanting to see him again. The magic had tingled her hand, made the air smell strange and smoky. Elain had no idea if it had actually worked, until he’d strode in from the storm.  She fought the urge to squirm under his gaze, instead fixing her eyes on the growing puddle his long hair was leaving on her floor.  “I wanted to continue our acquaintance,” Elain said, feeling more human and more ridiculous by the moment, “I’m alone here again, it seemed like a good time to invite you to tea.”  Finally she met his eyes, both gold and russet were steady on her, unblinking. The attention should have been terrifying, but it only made her curious. What could he see that she couldn’t? Why did he use to magic to call over distances but not to keep dry?  Lucien began to smile, stillness slowly melting away. “You wanted to see me?” He inclined his head, long hair falling forward, “then I am at your service, my lady.”  All at once he seemed to notice he was still holding her hands, that the courteous motion had sent more rainwater over them both from his sodden hair. He was gentle with her hands, but the motion of him snapping back was too fast for her eyes to follow. “Apologies,” Lucien began, “I wasn’t paying attention to the storm.”  What had he been paying attention to then? He was soaked through, his skin icy to the touch.  “I’ll get you a towel,” Elain replied, brushing away his apology. She smoothed her skirt, righted her posture. “And a shirt, maybe?” The step back he’d taken helped her not at all, giving her a more complete view of the fine cloth stuck to his skin with water. Elain could see the hair on his stomach, the defined divots of his abdominal muscles that made her throat go dry. “Be right back!” She sang, fluttering her way to the door.  Elain had grown up seeing the men coming in from the fields in summer. Their skin tanned deep, muscles built from hard work shining with sweat. She could remember seeing the young dandies and noble sons learning to fight, strong in their finery. She understood perfectly well attraction, how easy it was to bury in manners and sweet charm, so that no one noticed if she looked too long.  It was like comparing a campfire to the sun.  She bustled off to find a towel, thankful she’d thought to dismiss the maids before she’d tried the acorn. Gifted them paid time off, sent them merrily on their way on the off chance that the magic would have visible effects.  So there was no one to charm, no one to ask question as she slipped into the scullery and plucked up a clean shirt belonging to a house guard. It was cotton, nothing so lovely as the lawn fabric sticking to Lucien’s skin at this exact moment, but she couldn’t think of anything else that would fit him. As it was, Elain suspected the breadth of his shoulders would be a challenge.  Necessities clutched in her hands, she gave herself a moment to lean against the wall and breathe.  Beauty was a faery weapon, she’d always been told that. To ensnare and entrance, to spell human victims happily into their doom. But she’d also always been told faeries couldn’t touch pure gold, or iron. That the wall really kept them out. If none of the stories were true, what was she supposed to do with how beautiful Lucien was? How his savage loveliness stalking in from the storm like a nightmare hadn’t lit her pulse with fear, but with longing?  No, Elain thought. No. She squared her shoulders. She was going to give him a fresh shirt and go make that spicy, dark hot chocolate Nesta had bought her. She’d serve it in blossom china cups, some brightness on the stormy day. Croissants for refreshment, spring water to cut the sweetness.  She’d find out more about her sister’s life over the wall, if she’d found her love after all. She’d learn more about magic if she could get Lucien to tell her. A friend- she could cultivate a faery friend. A source of knowledge, a tangible, precious connection to Feyre, and strangely good company.  It would be perfectly fine. — Lucien needed to take a damn breath.  Why had he panicked? He’d been alone when the summons reached him, for once having a quiet moment where he didn’t need to mollify Tamlin or hide from Inathe. Elain’s voice had echoed in his head like a bell, the call scaring him down to his bones. He’d assumed she was in trouble, armed himself and winnowed straight to the Wall without another thought.  He couldn’t really feel the cold, the frozen day and vicious storm once he crossed out of the artificial bubble of Spring Court magic. It had only deepened his panic, his rage. That someone had come for Elain on a day like this- humans couldn’t even be out in weather like this for long. He couldn’t stop seeing it- her cold, afraid, bloody.  If they were Fae, he was going to remind them why he’d been thought to be a contender for his father’s throne, even long after his banishment. If they were human, he was going to take them deep into the forest, far from Elain’s beautiful eyes, and feed them to the monsters on the other side of the Wall.  The magic in his veins was burning hotter than it had in decades, heat so close to the surface half a thought would have turned the rain on his skin to steam, to mist.  This beautiful, confounding, human girl- she’d spoken his name and relit the fire he’d nearly forgotten, hadn’t burned and set free in longer than he could remember.  And then- and then she’d been fine. Perfectly okay, brown eyes wide with confusion, still as terror beneath his hands. He’d scared her, that much was obvious. Brave as she was, Elain hadn’t shied from his touch, from his words, but she’d been unable to look at him for much of their conversation.  Lucien had never been more aware of how different faery reactions might be. In the land of his youth, in his viper filled current home, a knife in one hand and magic wreathing the other was tame, understandable. To Elain, he might as well have been the face of a horror story, a monster coming in from the rain.  When Elain returned, that startled flush was still on her cheeks, but her eyes were bright and clear. She took his sodden coat from his hands without any reaction, turning from him to reach over her head, to hang it on a metal hook clearly intended for a flower pot. It dripped steadily down onto a basin of potted flowers.  With a polite smile, lacking the dimples he saw when he was trying to sleep, Elain passed him a thick towel and a soft shirt. She inclined her head to the door, “I’ll give you a moment.”  Before he could summon a reply she was gone again, the only sound the rain on the glass walls. Cauldron boil him, had he scared her that badly? He’d been forging deals and playing courtier to immortals for longer than she’d been alive, surely he could figure out how to talk to her? To speak to this one beautiful, brilliant girl. Who’d wanted to see him, for no reason but his company, after all. Surely he could make this right.  Thinking hard about what he knew of her, Lucien dried and braided away his hair. Remembering her shiver as she’d opened the door he sent just a whisper of his magic into the air, warming the room until the plants smelled like joy again, until it was a temperature he thought would make her comfortable.  He was wringing out his shirt over a potted palm when the door opened. Her merry mask and quick dancing steps stopped dead when she saw him, the motion so abrupt china cups on the tray she carried slid, threatening to fall. Like an idiot, like a youth with no control, Lucien flashed to right in front of her, catching a teacup in each nimble hand.  He’d moved faster than mortal eyes could track, had to bite down a vicious curse at her horrified eyes, her scarlet face.  So close to her, Elain breathing hard, her heart racing, the air was filled with the scent of honeysuckle. Embers and crisp sweet flowers. She smelled like- she smelled like longing, like warm darkness to fall into.  But she was blinking those wide eyes at him, confused. Lucien realized he’d been stopped in front of her for minutes, uncounted heartbeats, breathing in the smell of her skin.  Gods and hells and immortal honey, what was wrong with him?  Carefully, slowly, to keep from startling her all over again, Lucien placed the cups back on her tray. He fought the urge to clear his throat in the growing silence, instead striding away at careful mortal speed to pull on the shirt she’d given him, to get some damned control over himself.  When he turned again, courtiers smile on his face, Elain had set down the tray and arranged the low table they’d sat at before. Primly, she waited for him to sit to pour, the only sound rain pounding down.  Lucien wanted to close his eyes as the steam drifted to him. Warm cinnamon, the bite of something spicy, and chocolate-deep and rich as love. He’d not had hot chocolate since he’d left Autumn. In the Winter court is was too rich, too filled with vanilla and cream. But this, Lucien was sure, would taste like pure warmth on his tongue.  He became very focused on the pink flower motif of the cups. Was there no part of Elain Acheron that didn’t disarm him?  She was the one to break the awkwardness. “Do the markings on your back mean something?” Her tone was light, bright as charm. “Tattoo’s are very rare on this side of the Wall.”  It was an idle question, he was very sure. Bramble and hawthorne, rowan and oak. Lucien had carried their leaves stark on his skin for so long he sometimes forgot they were there, his home in ink. From behind, he might still be a son of the forest, wild as the hunt. It was only when he saw his own face that the toll the world had took became clear; the monstrous scars, the magic eye, the false smile.  Honesty, Lucien realized. With this one mortal girl, who was so stupidly brave, unflinching even when she feared him, he could be honest. Elain had sought him out, after all. He’d try hard to charm her, to make her feel comfortable, but what did he gain from lying?  It was all he did in Spring, in his work and life. She’d been audacious enough to try to poison him, perhaps he could learn from her boldness. “I wasn’t born in Spring,” he told her, meeting curious brown eyes. “I am,” The words didn’t want to come out, “I am the son of the Lady of Autumn. I can’t return home, but those are the plants we hold sacred. From the stories of my childhood.”  “They’re very beautiful,” Elain said, riotous curls snagging on the embroidery of her gown as she shivered, the motion involuntary.  “You’re still cold,” Lucien murmured. Slowly, unwilling to make another mistake in front of her, he raised the temperature of the room.  “No, I’m perfectly”- her polite protest cut off as she felt the spring warm air. “Are you doing that?”  Lucien merely inclined his head. There, she didn’t sound afraid.  Elain set down her cup with a gentle clink and drew up her legs, tucking them to the side, under her skirt. She was looking at the empty air, hand drawn to her full lips like wonder. When she turned her eyes back to him, it finally the face of the girl who’d hit him with a shovel. “Does all magic smell like fire? The acorn did too, when I called to you.”  Lucien almost choked on the chocolate he was finally letting himself drink, cinnamon smothering him. “No,” he replied, too quickly. How could she smell that? Surely human senses weren’t all that sharp? “You’re smelling me, I suppose.” Lucien tried to keep his voice detached, but he was certainly throwing her mortal conventions all to hell again. Gods. “Much of my magic is fire, you’re probably just sensing that I made it.”  “You made the acorn?” Elain asked, tone something he couldn’t read, eyes thoughtful.  He nodded, looking past her to a lemon tree, letting the smell anchor him. No lie would pass his lips with this girl. It felt wrong, impossible. “I had to learn to work metal,” he gestured to his face, mouth twisting ruefully, “to keep the eye working right.”  “Do you know,” she replied, “that human stories say faeries can’t touch gold? Any pure metals?”  Luciens laugh surprised him, wrung from his chest. She smiled in return, heart-stoppingly beautiful. He was so glad to not have her pity, to not sense a bit of sadness in the air.  It was odd, to look at her and see the features she shared with Feyre so clearly. But they were so different- both brave to a fault, but when Lucien looked at Elain he felt nothing of Feyre, glimpsed nothing of the singularly gentle sister she’d portrayed.  Were Elain fae, Lucien was sure she’d have been brilliant opponent. With centuries, that charm and curiosity would only grow more lethal. It twisted his long dead heart.But he smiled instead. “High fae love finery more than you can imagine.”  Shockingly, her smile grew even brighter, cheeks dimpling. “I can perhaps imagine.” Elain tilted her head to the right, indicating a sturdy cabinet he’d have imagined was full of gardening tools. “Your weapons are in there.”  Her laughing tone made him feel awkward, the ache of it more foreign than the sound of her slow human heartbeat. Lucien didn’t know what to do with his hands now that his cup was empty, found himself smoothing back his hair. He was too tall for her silk divan, legs trapped up against the delicate wrought iron table. “The Spring Court values ornamentation,” he told her, voice stiff to his own ears.  Like crackling embers, like roses opening, Elain laughed.  The sound was relief enough that he rose, strode to open the cabinet she’d indicated. There it all was- his gold bracketed bow, his horn quiver, the veritable pile of jeweled daggers she’d wrapped in soft cloth. It was ridiculous, but carrying his allegiance openly had been important in the last century.  Frippery, the truest part of his mind answered. But he strapped on the bow, the quiver. Slid the long knives into his boots. But it was on the smallest daggers that Lucien paused.  He was already armed to the teeth, had come to Elain’s call with his own practical steel and fire as defense. The daggers were beautiful- carved emerald leaves climbing the hilts, cross guards the shape of rosebuds. Despite the decoration, they were well made, light by any standard.  Lucien turned back to Elain. She was watching him, eyes dark and steady. Too tall, too large for this room, looming over her, Lucien knelt at her side. Even on the ground he found their eyes were nearly level.  “Perhaps,” he began, holding out the smallest of knives piled in his hands, “You might keep these yourself.” Let this brave girl have even the smallest protection, let him actually be useful to her in some real way. The fear of earlier in the day rose in him all at once, the horror of her meeting faery violence.  With a single pale, freckled hand, Elain traced an emerald leaf and met his eyes head on. “How do I hold one?” Her voice was quiet, almost lost beneath the rain. — Fire magic, Elain was thinking. Did that mean all faeries looked like that? Like whatever element they wielded lived under their skin?  He’d caught her staring again, but he didn’t seem offended in the least. Who knew what faery manners were anyway? She felt a little giddy with it, the calm she’d forced on herself evaporated from the instant she’d walked in and found him half dressed.  Did her sisters Spring lord have eyes that bloomed? Lucien’s burned.  It was a mad thought, made madder still when he knelt beside her. Her faery friend, Elain reminded herself. For Feyre, for her own curiosity. Even for Lucien himself, maybe, for the protection he seemed to want to offer her.  “Perhaps,” he said, voice deep and smooth, “You might keep these yourself.” There were endless stories about the fell things that happened to humans who accepted faeries gifts. Who’d let themselves become trapped, lost years or souls because of the temptation of faery food, faery riches. Faeries torment, she’d been told, they give you what you want only to take it away and demand twice as much from you. Faery bargains were binding and deadly. But deep down, somehow, Elain was completely sure Lucien offered her no harm.

“How do I hold one?” She asked, touching the shocking gemstones, real and perfect. She’d hustled them to the cabinets out here at dawn one day, wrapped them in cloth to stop looking at the incredible finery of them.  The curiosity had tangled inside her. Humans got emeralds from a far northern continent, they were worth more to a merchant than their weight in gold, in diamonds. Were faeries simply richer with their centuries to accumulate whatever they prized, or was trade completely different over the Wall?  “Here,” Lucien said, carelessly dumping the pile of daggers beside her chair before plucking up one of the smallest. He held it out to her, balanced across his palm. Gentle, he rearranged her grip on the pommel, pressed her fingers to the steel, warm from his skin. Elain made an abbreviated slashing motion that brought a crack of laughter from Lucien’s mouth. “Perfect,” he said, approvingly. “Keep your wrist steady and you’ll do a lot more damage than with a shovel.”  Were all faeries this charming?  “You mean I shouldn’t just invite them to tea and feed the them the burnt remains of ash trees?” She’d said it before she could stop herself, discourteous and sharp. Elain could feel herself blushing again.  “I’m sure they’d take anything you gave them,” Lucien said, eyes serious as his voice danced. “But stabbing and running might be more practical. You have the element of surprise.”  It was impossible not to smile at that. Elain straightened back up, squared her posture back to formality. But whatever she’d been about to grasp for, to say, was stopped by Lucien wrapping his hand over hers again.

Not to correct her grip, but holding on, soft and warm. “I would be honored if you kept them near you,” he said, voice a more serious thing.  Helplessly, she nodded back, his skin deeper than gold next to hers.  Lucien inclined his head in return, elegant as any lord. He rose, taller than any man she knew, and plucked the coat she’d hung from the wall. While she watched, it grew dry under his hands, fabric lightening.  He bowed to her silkily. “Thank you again for your hospitality, Elain Acheron.” Lucien’s smile was sharp as he straightened. “The acorn will work again, whenever you have need.”  And then he was simply gone, magic making her blink, making her heart race. Elain jumped to her feet, but the room was empty, truly. It took her a long time to realize that whatever he’d done to the temperature for her remained, the room warm.  Longer still, the fire lingered, thick in the air of her favorite haven. 

@mywritingbox @illyrianinterrasen @flxwer-petals @missanniewhimsy @tntwme 

[dandelionsknight]

Throne of Queer

A/N: Hello to all my fellow Throne of Glass fans! This is a project I’ve undertaken where everything is the same, except everyone is LGBTQ+! It’s one I’m extremely excited to share, and that I hope can spur an ongoing conversation in the fandom about queer headcanons for characters. Please let me know if this interests you, because then, I’d be happy to post more chapters! Thanks! 

Chapter One: Aedion

           The day Aedion cut his hair was the happiest day of his life. He shaved the sides close and trimmed the rest into a mohawk, until the blonde hair was soft and feathery to the touch. After battle, he’d tug off his helm, letting it hang limp and sweaty in his eyes. He would wake up and see it tousled in the mirror, and grin at himself. Once he started using special conditioner, he constantly ran his hand through it, feeling it soft as rose petals.

           What he liked most about it was the balance it created for him between masculine and feminine. The past few years, he hadn’t really felt male. But he hadn’t feel quite female either. Some days he loved to have stubble and speak gruffly, other days he envied women’ hips and wished he could sing two octaves above. The most confusing days were when he simply wanted…to be, when neither side of the binary suited him, when he wanted to be the knight on the ground and the princess in the tower.

           Growing up on the tales of fae warriors, the adults around him made it clear which side of the story they wanted him to be on. Toy wooden swords for his birthday, the jokes that one day he’d take the blood oath for Aelin. His masculinity measured by how hard he sweat in a fight, how dry he could keep his eyes when punched in the gut, how many jokes he could make about women.

           Secretly, though, he admired and respected them as much as men. In a world that gave them few choices, they still demanded them. Men developed callouses from sword hilts and farming tools. So too could women, and their hands also cracked from doing the laundry every day, and brushing the dirt off their children’s knees and seeing them through to adulthood. Women were filled to the brim with endless strength and grace and Aedion was filled with admiration for them, a desire to achieve that for himself.

           Women of course could be cruel like men, and there were also good men out there, who spoke to him in a soft voice when he was scared. Who believed in love and so seemed to delight in romance as much as his beloved. Who learned that washing and cleaning and child rearing could be, should be, just as much the father’s job. Aedion knew he wanted to grow up like those men.

           Aedion learned about tears early in life, how fae warriors did not cry, and how the Wolf of the North certainly did not cry. He had to learn to freeze his emotions up inside of him, and freeze they did, until sometimes he wondered if the reason he felt so numb was because of that cold.

           His lovers, whether they were men or women, always expected him to get on top of them and take the reins, then curl around them when they fell asleep. As he grew up he became built like a bear, and his beard was relentless, and that was how people saw him, muscled and manly, ever the protector. So, the knight in shining armor he played. Wishing a little bit someone would ever want to take care of him.

           When he went to train to be a part of the king’s army, he befriended a girl there. She became his best friend throughout their years training, and she matched him toe for toe, despite his fae blood. When he found out they were to command legions across Erilea, unspeakable sadness took him over. He cried at losing a person who he’d flung porridge at during breakfast, marched alongside for miles in the mud, shared the sweet ache of a sword arm after training.

           He’d never forget how when she saw the telltale gleam in his eye, she pulled him against her, and for the first time Aedion could cry into someone’s chest. He listened to her heartbeat as his tears fell on her collarbone, and her battle-hardened arms kept him close, protected. She buried her head in his hair and said,

           “I’m going to miss you too, Aedion.”

           The first person he came out to was his cousin. Him and Aelin had always had an understanding, and it felt right that she be the first. Sitting across from her on the couch, he grappled for the words he needed to make her understand. Aelin crossed her legs and waited for him, brow knit.

           Once he began to say he didn’t feel like a girl or a boy, the words came rushing out of him, too fast to be contained any longer. At the end, he ran a hand through his hair and prayed she understood as Aelin clearly processed it all.

           “Aedion,” she said. “I’m so honored you decided to share that with me. I just want you to be happy, and I love you.”

           The weight of worlds lifted from his shoulders. “Thank you,” he said, as she pulled him into a tight hug. “And I want to try out they in addition to him.”

           Aelin nodded as she smoothed some of his hair back into place. “It shall be done,” she said, grinning. “Now…does this mean I get to teach you about eyeliner?”

           “Please,” he said, as his cousin laughed once more and went for her cosmetics.

           With a steady hand, she did his upper eyelid. He turned toward the mirror and immediately leaned in closer, amazed at the way it made the ring of gold pop. Aelin showed him her wide expertise, and Aedion couldn’t have been happier that these cosmetics were paintbrushes and his skin was a canvas for him to finally make look the way it felt best. He could accentuate his cheekbones or his jaw, could fill in his eyebrows or lengthen his lashes.

           Cosmetics were powerful and wonderful and he knew Aelin had been the right choice.

           Coming out to the Bane was the next step. Aedion made it short and sweet, simply saying to them all that he would still be their same commander, just a bit more comfortable in his skin. He had fought and bled with them, and at the end of the day, in their eyes, his heart had not changed. It didn’t matter to them so long as Aedion could finally be a happier version of himself.

           He noticed how his loose adherence to gender began to affect the Bane. They no longer grasped arms and spoke to each other in gruff voices after battle; now they hugged and even cried without fear for their masculinity. Affection passed easier between the legion, and when one warrior was homesick, rather than burying it by himself in his tent, the Bane would sing war songs with him and throw their arms over his shoulders.

           When Aedion passed the warriors talking in taverns or around the fire, his heart swelled when he heard them say, “There’s a reason they are the Wolf of the North.”

           He began requesting female recruits after the King of Adarlan died. They hit just as hard, sang just as loud, and accepted him just as much as the male warriors. Aedion was beyond proud to be the nonbinary commander of the first integrated legion.

           Telling his father daunted him for weeks before Aelin finally convinced him to tell Gavriel over dinner. Things had thawed slowly between them, and Aedion certainly wanted to share who he was with his father, but Gavriel was immortal. He’d either seen it or all, or he’d be old-fashioned.

           As Aedion explained, feeling his guts begin to twist themselves into knots, Gavriel listened with soft understanding. When he finished, he brushed his hair back and waited as his father hand-selected the right words.

           He said, “Aedion, thank you for sharing this with me. I just want happiness for my son.”

           His heart stuck in his throat. “Thank you,” he said, standing up from the table, unable to look Gavriel in the eyes. “But I actually have to be going.”

           Gavriel spluttered and tried to ask what he’d done wrong, but Aedion shrugged him off. He knew it would take getting used, knew not everyone would know what to say. But a mere minute after Aedion said he didn’t feel male or female, Gavriel hadn’t even tried to cut the gendered language. It was a mistake. But Aedion didn’t want who he was to be a mistake.

           He woke up the next morning to find his father waiting for him. Gavriel stood with his hands clasped in front of him, shoulders tight, eyes searching Aedion’s face.

           “You cut your hair,” Aedion said, frozen at the sight of the golden mohawk that matched his.

           Gavriel smiled. “I wanted to do it for you-or well, with you, I suppose. Also, keeps the hair off my neck when I am training. Practical as well as attractive.”

           Aedion stuffed his hands in his pockets as he cracked a grin. “Yeah. So…what are you doing here? I ran out yesterday.”

           “With good reason,” Gavriel said, taking in a breath. “I meant it when I said only want happiness for you. But I-I’m not yet used-I mean,” he fumbled with the words like a rookie with a sword on his first day of training. “I am sorry for not considering my words more carefully. You deserve to be called by what makes you comfortable. Not what I’m used to. You are my…offspring, my child, mine own heir.” He laughed, mostly at himself, though Aedion did chuckle. “My wolf pup, even, if that’s what you want.”

           Ducking his head, Aedion wiped his hand over his eyes. “Thank you.”

           “And regardless of all that, I know you’re the still the same person. I love you no matter male, female, nonbinary or anything. And I want to do better.”

           When Gavriel opened his arms, Aedion sunk against his father in the tightest hug he’d ever allowed him. Now that Gavriel knew all of him, there was a real chance at a true relationship between them. All the nights when he was young, wondering who fathered him, felt less lonely now in his memory.

           The morning of Aelin’s coronation, Lysandra came to fetch Aedion from the dining hall, where he was eating breakfast. She led him blindfolded through the castle, on the way to his room, while he tugged at the blindfold and asked incessantly why he was wearing it.

           “Just hush,” Lysandra said. “We have a surprise for you.”

           “We?”

           “Aelin, Dorian, and I.”

           That trio could never be up to any good, but Aedion clamped his mouth shut as she stopped him. He heard muffled voices from behind the door.

           “Shh! She’s here with them, don’t ruin it!” That voice was undeniably Aelin.

           Lysandra opened the door and guided Aedion inside, before slipping the blindfold off him. Dorian and Aelin, grinning like fiends, stood flanking a mannequin in a suit. The suit had an elegant waistcoat, vest, and trousers, but in a more feminine cut, done in rich blue, pink, and purple. A soft sheen glossed the suit, as if it’d been stitched from starlight.

           “Since you’ll be taking the Blood Oath tonight, we thought you’d want to look your best,” Dorian said, smiling, looking from the suit to Aedion.

           “We fought about the style for ages,” Lysandra said. “I had to practically give up an arm to these two for them to go with this color palette.”

           Taking in Aedion standing slack-jawed and starry-eyed, Aelin asked, “Do you like it?”

           Gripping his hands together to keep them from shaking, Aedion said, “I love it. It’s perfect. I…thank you.”

           “You want to try it on now, or would you rather us see you in it tonight?” Lysandra asked, putting a hand on his shoulder to steady him.

           “Tonight,” Aedion said, folding one of his hands over Lysandra’s and smiling at her.

           Lysandra smiled warmly back. “We’ll get out of here, then. See you tonight.”

           Aelin kissed his forehead as the three of them filed out, shutting the door behind them. Aedion walked up to mannequin and placed his now freely shaking hands on the chest, feeling the crisp, cool fabric beneath his fingers. Lysandra’s eye for color took his breath away; the blues and pinks and purples all melted into each other like a sunset in a water color painting.

           In the evening, when he put it on, it fit perfectly over the muscles of his chest. But the waist was cut slimmer and the tie narrower. Aedion wanted to meet whatever radical tailor had put this together, finally had the sense to combine the best of men and women’s fashion. He ran a comb through his hair, straightened his waistcoat one last time, and went to take the blood oath for his queen.

           Long after the coronation, Dorian found him outside, gazing up at the endless Terrasen night sky. Aedion had shed his coat and rolled up his sleeves so he could feel the breeze on his bare skin. He smiled lazily at Dorian as the king walked up.

           “You looked dashing in there,” Dorian said, leaning against the balcony beside Aedion.

           “Dashing enough to get the noblemen talking,” Aedion said, a cloud crossing over his face. “Normally I wouldn’t give a damn about what people whisper, but they kept this country together when Aelin was gone. I can’t help but feel that I, that maybe I-never mind.”

           He shook his head and looked at the ground, rubbing the callouses on one of his hands. Dorian asked, “Can’t help but feel what?”

           “I don’t know. Like I embarrassed her.”

           “Embarrassed her?” Dorian shook his head, black curls falling from behind his ears. “Never, Aedion. It may have been her coronation, but she was so proud of you. All of your friends were, including me.”

           Aedion huffed. “Proud?”

           “Yes, proud. We were worried that maybe the suit would be a little bit much than what you’re ready for, but when I saw your eyes light up when you saw it, I knew it was the right choice. Wearing it tonight, you were at home in your skin. The Bane all still respect and adore you. Your relationship with your father is stronger than ever before. Those noblemen are stuck-up and bitter. Never let them impede how happy it’s made you to finally be who you were meant to.”

           Lifting his head to study the king’s moonlit features, Aedion nodded. “You’re absolutely right. Thank you, Dorian. That was exactly what I needed to hear.”

           He shrugged. “We all crave the truth.”

           “A quote from one of your books?” he asked, nudging him with his shoulder.

           “A secret that a bookworm can never tell,” Dorian said, smirking. “But I…have a request. If that’s alright with you.”

           Aedion leaned back against the balcony. “Anything, Your Highness.”

           “Your hair. It looks sinfully soft, and I have been desperate to touch it,” Dorian said, his smirk only growing wider.

           “Be my guest.”

           Dorian reached up with one hand to run his fingers through the mohawk, then back over the shaved sides of his head. He traced a scar above Aedion’s ear, where an arrow had knicked him, with the softest touch. Aedion closed his eyes as Dorian’s fingers traced the veins of his temples, his high cheekbones, the curve of his jaw.

           “Artists are going to render such beautiful paintings of you,” Dorian whispered, as Aedion opened his eyes, breathing in the gentle wonder on the king’s face. “The Wolf of the North.”

           “That’s me,” Aedion said, licking his lips, held in place, frozen in time, by Dorian’s burning gaze. “Commander extraordinaire.”

           “But so much more,” Dorian said. “So much more than a wolf. You are Aedion Ashryver. Unafraid to be themself.”

           Aedion smiled. He hadn’t felt this way about a boy, or anyone really, since he’d been fifteen years old and kissed a boy for the first time, felt the blooming stubble along his jawline, drank in his smell of firewood and summer grass, fallen asleep to the rhythm of another beating heart beside him. Dorian reminded Aedion of that boy, easy to love, but also easy to lose.

           His wandering hands raked through his hair, smoothed down the front of his vest, before they finally came around Dorian’s waist, and the kiss was embers, smoldering until it reached full flame and Aedion felt Dorian’s hands in his hair once again, and he kissed the corners of the king’s mouth and his smooth cheeks and the tip of his nose, thank you notes that poured forth at each stroke of his lips:

           Thank you for helping to buy this suit, thank you for being proud of me, thank you for being the second person I came out to and giving me only unconditional support since then, thank you for lending books to my father about being nonbinary, thank you for still wanting to love me

           The last one was probably unnecessary, since Aedion knew now that the only things that made him potentially unlovable were his snoring, his occasional obsession with his work as commander, or his recklessness. Not him being who he was as nonbinary. That was just one more moving, flourishing piece of Aedion Ashryver.

           So, he let himself get lost in kissing and laughing with Dorian until the sunrise, when he went back to his room with his hair a mess and his smile alight.

           That was the second happiest day of his life.

[broken-bone-tower]

This lore is really long, since it’s a clan sub-faction (and loosely based off book characters).

The Court of Shejidan

Tabini was bred for war, for battle and bloodshed. A pure breeding of Imperials, with all of their size and grace, and the colours of his line. However, fortune saw that he was nothing like what he was intended for. He's small for his breed, even not counting his age, his colours mixed and clashing. Despite all these disappointments however, Tabini excels as a Warmaster. He's cunning and quick, knowing how to use his size against others, having twice the wits and skill for strategy as the next dozen or so dragons. Tabini is ruthless and unable to be swayed once he has been set on a path. When Tabini makes up his mind, it's best to just batten down and wait out the storm of his indomitable will. Because of this, his choice in mate came as a shock to most (thought perhaps not, being a tale as old as time). Where Tabini is cold and firm, Bren is warm and willing to listen. Where Tabini sweeps aside the weaker ones in his way, Bren is kind, giving any and all the chance to prove themselves and make the world better. And while Tabini had never been at a loss for words in his life (for they're just another form of battle) even he would have to admit the ease in which Bren is able to outclass all with his witty tongue. Eventually Bren's solid surety eased it's way into Tabini's heart. Rivalry turned to friendship, affection, and even though he is unwilling to admit it freely, love of Tabini for Bren. In a clan where breeding and lineage is paramount, Tabini and Bren were destined never to be together, the colours of their offspring too easily able to be ugly and undesirable. This didn't stop these two though. With Tabini's single-minded focus, and Bren's words, they convinced the Triarch that while their breeding attempts might result in undesirables, there was also a great chance of pure colours, ones worthy of great dowries. It was with this risk hanging over their heads, that Tabini and Bren laid their first nest and await with bated breath on the future of not only their unborn hatchlings but the one they may no longer have with one another. One thing is certain though, Tabini is not willing to let anyone come between them, not while he breathes.

--/--

The first nest was a cascade of horror from the very moment the first egg hatched. Tabini had almost felt his dreams for the potential future shatter in his grasp, crumbing to dust as each of his first-nest's hatchlings were born with flawed colours. He'd turned his head away, a knot in his throat, a feeling he'd never felt before and accompanied by a stinging in his eyes. He'd been tempted to flee, to fly from the nest and let nature take her course, but his devotion to his mate kept him grounded, his larger frame encircling his doomed little family. 'We can try again,' he thought to himself as little feet clambered over his form curiously and an over-powering instinct had him crushing the thought as he caught his first-born before she fell from his towering shoulders. 'Already so curious...they take after Bren,' and that thought warmed his heart. It was Bren who salvaged everything, as Tabini's mate was wont to do. Bren could make the best out of anything it seemed. Two of the four hatchlings were the colours of Rewind and Drift, two fellow clanmates, often sought after for mates. When Ikol visisted later in the day to see what had come forth from their breeding, Tabini and Bren had led with that observation and with a knowing smile, Ikol had nodded their acceptance and left them be. They were safe. For now. --/-- The second nest came in three eggs. "Fortunate three" Tabini observed blandly, starring at the small things that were a mixture of him and Bren. He knew they needed two beautiful young ones for this nest to be a success. Fortune over misfortune, even by one, was still a success on the battlefield. A victory was a victory. So Tabini settled in to wait the long nesting period, perhaps even more protective of the eggs to others of the lair than even Bren himself. --/-- "Beauty in contrast," is what Tabini murmured under his breath as he watched his newest clutch. Bren had looked him straight in the eye and told him such when the eggs had hatched, that beauty did not lay only in perfection; the view as one jumped from the cliff to fly was just as glorious as the one from the top. He watched his daughters play about with Cajeiri at the edges of the clearing, his little ones already almost as big as his fully-grown son. Beautiful daughters that were hard for him to even glance at, instincts cut into his hide as a youngster himself, telling him that his children should not be allowed to exist. Hi bit down on his tongue, blood filling Tabini's mouth and clearing his mind as he forced himself to look and never glance away. His children were perfect, and the Warmaster would be damned before he let others dictate his feelings for them.

Bren had always known he'd had a way with words. Making others sway to his point of view had always been easy, instinctual like the flap of wings. He studied and watched, listening to all around him until he could even handle conversations with faes and coatls of different clans. It wasn't hard to convince others that while he'd been born a female, that he was male in every way that mattered, thank you very much. No one contested him for it. Despite all of his knowledge, he had never really come across someone who could test his own skills. Others always tried to either use their superior strength or degraded into throwing insults whenever he thought he'd found someone that finally matched his tongue as well as his mind. The populace at large was generally a great disappointment. That was, until the day he met Tabini. Their's wasn't a story of 'love at first sight', nor even 'Brood with me? We'll make exceptional offspring', but more of a wrong step in a metaphorical dance that led to stubbed toes and bruised wing bones. He was a large fighter, cunning and single-minded, which usually would have placed him in the 'more muscle than brain' category for Bren. Then the insufferable male had opened his mouth and proved...he might actually have an interesting mind. Despite their differences, Bren and Tabini found many things in common, and where they did differ it was only to the point where together they met in an oddly harmonious way. Where Tabini was flashing temper, Bren was a clear-headed calm, and where Tabini was quick to leave behind those who were no longer of use, Bren was there to make him sit and remember that others were made up of more than just their usefulness. Their bonding was long in the coming if anyone else is asked, though the risk they take in breeding is a heavy one. Bren knows that whatever hatchlings he has, he will love, and so will Tabini in his own way. Though if he has time to actually be with them between fighting those threatening the clan and those within threatening the two of them, well that's another matter all together. Things aren't as bad as they used to be now that Ikol has taken over leadership, but traditions are hard to break, even by those who understand the most why they shouldn't be. --/-- The first nest had not gone as well as Bren had hoped. When they'd laid a nest of four eggs, he knew the chances were good, luck could not be that far off for them not to get at least one sought after hatchling. They hadn't. As their clutch had come into the world, Bren had felt Tabini's fear. For all of his love of him and his own hard-won strength, because of his upbringing he was almost instinctively aware of imperfection. Such a failure of a nest would not be something he could accept if Bren left him to handle this on his own emotionally, so Bren had done what he does best. He talked. As he spoke, a plan formed in his mind, connections coming to life as he realized that two of his hachtlings were in fact, an unexpected stroke of luck. They were coloured like Drift and Rewind, two fellow clanmates that if his daughters could not find good homes elsewhere, at the very least they'd have a breeding place in their birth clan. That was what kept Tabini from tearing at their Triarch in a defensive fury when Ikol arrived, and was what kept their worth up and them together, for at least a little longer, in the clans eyes. --/-- When the second nest was laid, it was both an excitement and a jump in the tension. Tabini was convinced they needed a majority for wanted hathclings, but Bren knew all it took was one. One coveted hatchling along with those they'd bore before would be enough to prove that they could consistently breed wanted hatchlings, that their pairing was valid. Give Bren an inch and he would take a mile before you knew what had been given. The third nest would be the true clencher, if he knew Ikol at all. And sadly, he knew he did. --/-- Ikol approached Bren the moment Tabini had taken their newest hatchlings from sight. "If I didn't know better, I would say you planned to get by on only the edges of your claws." Bren hummed thoughtfully as he flew up to settle in the enormous Imperial's horns, perching on them as the clan triarch wandered off to the market to search for new members of their clan to bring in. "Luck and chance are only two sides of the same coin." Bren commented, ignoring Ikol's knowing smile. "But it's best to never leave it up to just them."

Out of all the Assassin's in the Guild, Banichi is hands-down one of the most dedicated and skilled. While he is not one to brag (for that is a useless thing) his compatriots often recount the time he took a hill under magical bombardment with a broken leg and still won the day, saving Bren. Because of this, Banichi is Bren's most trusted compatriot and is never seen from his side, even stepping in to guard his charge from Tabini's temper. Wearing the same colours as their charge, Banichi and his team have used the tactic of camouflaging Bren among them (or pretending he is there while Bren absconds) multiple times.

Learning at Banichi's heals allowed Jago the oppertunity to truly grow as an Assassin in the Guild. Not quite an apprentice and not quite a daughter of the large Senior Assassin either, but forever an equal partner, Jago has taken to guarding Bren almost as fervently as Banichi does. Frequently running to and fro on Bren's business, Jago is ever busy and prepared to fight to the death to protect whatever she's been charged with by the Nocturne; be it message scrolls or Bren himself.

Algini isn't one for talking, nor for earnestly meeting another's gaze or even seeming to pay attention to anything that goes on around him. However, that does not mean he misses anything. Equipped with keen eyes and a mind orientated for terrifying details, virtually nothing ever escapes Algini's observations. These skills of his were what originally had him assigned to watch over Bren. Politics, as the saying goes, are the true kink in the machine. For a long time, Algini was dedicated to his original mission: watch and gather information about the strange Nocturne. Over time though, he softened in Bren's company, voicing his opinion more and even meeting the ambassador's eyes. When eventually his true origins were exposed, instead of casting him out Bren told Algini that he would always have a place by his side. It was then, in that moment that the Wildclaw's world shifted slightly, and aligned to whatever it was that Bren wanted to make of it. Algini's loyalty was set.

Tano is one of the few dragons you'll ever meet that is genuinely kind. Soft-hearted and prone to worrying overmuch about those around him, Tano is the most approachable out of Bren's guard. Taking Tano's warm nature for passivity would be a mistake however as above all he is a trained assassin and has no problem completely shutting off his kind nature in exchange for cold, calculated hunter. 

Damiri is beautiful in all ways but her mind. She's not cruel, more of a beautiful flower with a rotting core, reserved but kind in her rarely given affections. Originally she was meant to be Tabini's one consort, his eternal partner, a carefully selected match for beautiful offspring. For all her charms and sharp wit though, she never became anything more to him than a duty. Their son Ceijiri is Tabini's heir, a triumph that she though would finally seal her position with her consort over Bren. To her horror however, Ceijiri is much his father's son and took to Bren like breathing, following him around and hiding behind the small Nocturne whenever things turned sour. Over everything though, Damiri is a survivor and she knows she can be patient. For however long is necessary.

Machigi is a brash young pirate, who's diligent efforts and cut-throat attitude has gained him riches and loyalty where all others have failed.

Bren's skills brought him to this sea creature's attention and while he knows it will never be, that doesn't stop him from flirting outrageously with the little Nocturne.

While coming from the homeland of the ancestors of Bren and Gene, Jase is another type of Nocturne entirely. Bred for superiority in every way, he often confides in Bren that he feels trapped and exhausted by the expectations much of the time. He's stuck around Bren through sheer utter stubbornness, letting no one separate them for long. His feelings for the ambassador aren't exactly well-hidden to anyone but Bren however Jason has vowed to never take a step forward in their relationship. His friend is happy and he wont stand in the way of that. Sometimes, he and Machigi drown their sorrows and jealousy in each other, though nothing more than physicality has ever grown between them as both are incapable or turning their attentions away from Bren.

[secret-engima]

Also, considering the sheer number of Clans, and that some Trials could take upwards of a month to pass and receive Arms from - Regis and Co are gonna spend like 2+ years in Galahd, INCOMMUNICADO. What are Mors’ and HADRIAN’S reactions (cause Hadrian is actually visibly caring of Clarus, and Mors isn’t gonna stand for Regis disappearing off the face of the earth.) Ooh, would Mors get the Astrals involved?! I could see that as a last resort thing, especially if Mors knows he’s dying.

Oh definitely. Some take place in the course of a day or three, but some, like the Ulric and Arra Trial take 1-2 MONTHS and that kinda time stacks up pretty fast. Not to mention they don’t immediately jump into the Trials (don’t know about them at first, only choose it as a desperate plan to get out of Galahd after Cor VOLUNTEERS HIMSELF like an idiot), plus any recovery time, travel time, time just- learning what they need to know to pass the Trial... yeah. They disappear completely off the grid for A WHILE.

-Mors is worried. He hides it behind a strong front, tells the public and his council that he knows exactly where his son is/what he’s doing, Regis and his group are just on a secret task that requires the utmost secrecy and discretion.

-Behind closed doors he’s the Mors equivalent of a hot mess. Cold, agitated, short-tempered, frequently brooding. Everyday he checks the reports for word of the Galahdian Wall going down and everyday it still stands strong something in his heart contracts. He’s worried. Worried for his son, yes, of course, because Mors does love his son, however distant he kept himself. But mostly for his kingdom and how it will survive if he has lost his heir, because Mors hasn’t let himself worry frantically over an individual for the sake of the individual since his wife. Since Umbra. And Mors can’t allow himself to feel that way again. (Mors had adored his daughter up until the test, showered her in affection and time until he learned she was Cursed and that he had to- the Founder King’s Decree insisted-)

-(Nothing ever broke him as badly as leaving Umbra behind. And after his wife died too years later, Mors had nothing left to anchor his sanity but his job, because he couldn’t look on Regis, couldn’t laugh and play with his boy without choking on memories of a bright-eyed toddler girl who should have been Crown Princess, who should have grown up playing and doting on her little brother).

-So Mors awaits word, and contemplates what he might have to do if Regis is dead (there are medical treatments that would let him have another heir in his old age he knows, but he doesn’t know if he would live long enough to raise them and he doesn’t actually want to do it, because to do that is to admit that Regis- that Umba killed her little-.

-Hadrian is a much more open mess, because that’s his Crown Prince and his SON out there, missing behind an unknown Wall, one presumably raised by whatever shell of a human the Curse has left Umbra (and he believes in the Curse, believes that it must be as terrible and all-consuming as the legends say, because otherwise Mors would not have broken himself carrying out the Founder King’s decree, he knows how deeply LCs adore their children, their Own, and that for 2k years these dragon-like people have abandoned children to die in the wilderness despite all their instincts- he believes there must be a Very Good Reason.)

-Of course, he’s composed in public and with the council, but in private, with his wife especially, he’s a mess. Worried, stressed, unable sleep well. Mors temper doesn’t help matters even if Mors is careful never to aim it at Hadrian. Hadrian is worried for his son, his Crown Prince, and his King and there’s NOTHING HE CAN DO. This really doesn’t sit well with the Amicitia Go-Fix-It attitude.

-Eventually, Mors gets desperate. All of the agents he’s sent have been either caught on the boat or caught in the port towns and sent back in increasingly injured states (none killed so far, but after two were crippled to the point of forced retirement, Mors knew better than to try again, he couldn’t afford to lose anymore agents while still at war with Niflheim). Out of other options, Mors decides to call on outside help. He has two options for contacting the Astrals, one is to contact the Oracle and let her in on his problem and ask her to intervene on his behalf, the other is to communicate through the Crystal.

-Mors is not ... in the BEST of health, though not dying, but he knows the Crystal is a strange, greedy thing and doesn’t want to risk it. So he contacts the Oracle.

-If he’d gone to the Crystal, Bahamut would have heard him and roused himself from his slumber, would have finally realized Galahd was so much more than it seemed and come down from on high to “correct” the issue. But Mors doesn’t go to the Crystal, he asks the Oracle, and the Oracle reaches out to the Astrals in general rather than Bahamut specifically.

-And Ramuh has been watching for this moment. He and Leviathan have spent too long keeping Galahd a secret from Bahamut, spent too much time convincing Shiva to look the other way so long as Bahamut did not directly order her to do something, to let his Storm Children be harmed now. Ramuh answers the Oracle, tells her that a Messenger will be sent to the king to inform him of his answer.

-Two weeks later, Mors and Hadrian look up sharply to the far corner of the locked study to see something that looks like an old man in simple, old-fashioned robes leaning on an ornate walking stick. “I am Stratus,” says the old man with inhumanly bright eyes, “High Messenger of the Astrals.”

-”What has become of my son?” King Mors asks through stiff lips.

-”He lives. He lives and goes through great Trials, but he will emerge from them stronger.” Stratus informs them, a pause, and then he adds as if it is meant to be a comfort, “The Crown Prince will not die, we will ensure it, for his destiny yet stretches beyond Galahd’s shores. He will return when the time is right.” And King Mors struggles not to sag in relief, because his son is alive and his son will return, the Astrals have promised.

-Stratus lowers his head, and something about his posture indicates he’s about to leave, and a desperate Hadrian blurts, “And his companions? His Shield? DO they also live?” Stratus stares at him inhuman and too-sharp, like lightning contained in a fragile mortal shell and as Mors glances worriedly at Hadrian, Hadrian hopes he has not just signed his own death warrant for speaking out of turn to a High Messenger. Still, he asks in a soft, trembling voice, “Does- does my son also live?”

-After a moment of staring, the High Messenger’s gaze softens to something that, on a human, Hadrian would have thought was gentle understanding (but this is an Astral’s Messenger, immortal and fae, at best Hadrian takes it as an extension of mercy for his speaking out of turn), “All of the Crown Prince’s companions live, for they too hold destinies beyond the reach of the isles. They will return with their Crown Prince when the time is right.” With that, Stratus is gone, and Hadrian sags against Mors desk from the weight of his relief while Mors slumps slowly into a chair and breathes thanks.

-Mors, in perhaps one of his most human moments since the death of his wife, cancels all their appointments for the day and instead sends Hadrian home to share the good news with his worried wife. Hadrian is reluctant to leave his king and ... somehow, perhaps through shared exhaustion from worry, relief that their sons live, he talks Mors into coming down to his house for the first time since Umbra... since Umbra.

-The three of them, Mors, Hadrian, and his wife, end up in Hadrian’s living room, sharing drinks and crying discreetly from relief (but also worry, because the Messenger said Great Trials. The Messenger promised their children’s lives, but not what condition they would be in mentally and physically when they returned).

-(But that is a worry for another day, for now they bask in relief and the knowledge that, no matter what deadly secrets lie behind the Wall of Galahd, their children are safe and will return).