#a panic attack for noble trails

[grim-has-issues]

believe me when i say i desperately want to watch @zsakuva content, but that man has the incredible talent of stressing me out beyond belief.

[agirlandherquill]

my entries - writemas day 13

it's only taken me 13 days to get to the point where i'm no longer swamped and able to write but here it is, my entry for writemas day 13!

prompts used: "I wished on my beating, broken heart for a way out of this. I wished, and my salvation never came.", The burn of poison it's a bit of a long one, but it's a snippet from one of my favourite chapters of adod that i've been working on recently, and the prompts for today finally helped me to polish this part off, so here you are, it's under the cut :)

I need to find her. 

One thought rendered him a lesser man. It drove him to the brink of madness. He was rushing through the fray of guards and thugs, abandoning all thoughts of those he knew, of those that remained, of his team, his family, in search of her.

He had turned away, he had dispatched a man in only a moment, for her to be gone when he had come back around. I told her to stay. I needed her to remain where I knew it was safe - not to come out here, into this maze, into this endless stretch of corridors, candles, and darkness. 

“I wished on my beating, broken heart for a way out of this. I wished, and my salvation never came.” 

Reid staggered at her words, following her voice until he caught her shadow moving around the corner at the far end of the hall. 

“I had to fight for my escape. Why must I fight now? Why must you be so desperate to take me back?”

There was a thud. Reid watched as two shadows danced along the walls, silhouettes cast by candlelight. He watched in horror as one fell, the slighter shadow, and sped up his steps, ignoring the burn in his side as he pursued. 

The shadows were faster. They got up, and they moved.

They’re here for her. The truth burned. It was poison singing in his veins. It made sense. Too much sense. The intruders had ignored all the other nobles, he had only seen them come to claim her, to attack her, and it seemed, as he heard a male grunt of pain, to fight her.

“Why must I endure all of this, again?”

The candle illuminating her position ahead of him blew out, leaving him seeking the dark, sprinting through it, drowning in the silence her question had left behind. There were no steps, no pain, no sounds of exertion. Reid could hardly breathe under the weight of his distress. 

He had to slow down, to collect himself, only for a moment, and use the spark of his blade to relight the candle closest. Its glow exiled the darkness and brought with it a bitterness that seared on his tongue.

The floor was slick with blood. Reid did not know whose it was, he did not know what he would do if he found out, but he followed after it, after the trail of crimson spattered along once gleaming floors. He followed it, his stomach twisting and tearing itself in pieces as his steps sped up, faster and faster until he was marching down the hallway. 

Isolde.

Her name echoed in his mind with every step. 

Isolde.

She can’t be dead. She’s fine. She’s going to be fine.

He fell over a corpse as he turned the corner, his knees slid in the blood and he snapped his head back, gasping.

The corpse wore dark clothes, but their hair was cropped at uneven lengths, even face down he knew it was the person he searched for. Not her. She’s fine. He got up and kept on going, his heart still racing. The blood trail continued, weaving left and right as though there had been a skirmish, another one, more violent than the one the shadows had last portrayed. His eyes hovered over hand prints smeared on the walls, a lump forming in his throat. Those are from small hands. Hers.

He stilled at the echoes of a scream, a grunting, and then silence. His panic reared his head and he was sprinting to the source of the sound - a door at the end of the hall. It was open, and bloody.

Reid reached the door, the sword in his hand shaking with terror as he skidded to a stop and looked inside. Her name twisted and became a mass in his throat, choking him until he felt like dying. The strength in his knees gave and he sank against the door to watch her silently. To follow the trail of the blood dripping down the curve of her elbow and down, down to her delicate fingers, down to her crimson nails, stained with the essence of life, to the small, delicate butter-knife glinting in her grip.

He had fought his way to her. 

He had worried for her.

And what had been the point?

She has been more than capable of protecting herself all along. More than capable of performing a delicate slaughter. 

His fingers pulled and tore at the frame of the door as he heaved himself to stand, to take a step forward, into the room, into the utter carnage that had unfolded from a single corpse laying crumpled at her feet.

All that, he thought, his fingers flexing over the pommel of his sword, All that, by a butter-knife. He wetted his lips but the motion did nothing to settle the dryness clawing its way down his throat. All that, done by her.

He watched Isolde pry the knife from the corpse and run the blade over her skirts, cleansing the metal, and lowered herself to the man’s face. 

Her whisper was only just audible.

“Forgive me.”

Forgive her? She’s… Sorry? Why? Reid’s brows furrowed in confusion. He was one of them. He was set on killing her. They all were. Why should she- No. He took a slow, silent step toward her, his body tightening. There has to be another reason. A different reason. There has to be a better way to explain this. 

He finally had it in him to say her name.

“Isolde.”

She started, turning to him, her eyes wide. “Reid.”

“Tell me that I’m wrong. Tell me that everything I see here isn’t real. Tell me I’m wrong. Please, Isolde.”

One word would silence his doubts, one word would suffocate the turmoil building in his heart, one word would end his torment before it had truly begun.

“No.”

Her whisper cleaved his heart in two. It made his heart stutter and his aching knuckles crack by his sides as he levelled the tip of his sword toward her, breathing heavily.

“You’re… Her.”

~ ~ ~

“You’re… Her.”

That whisper was damnation. It was everything she had sought to hide from, to conceal her very being from, for so long. Two words commanded her ending, two words robbed her of her strength, of the grip she maintained on the butter-knife. It clattered to the floor along with the last of her patience.

“And what are you going to do about it? What, Reid? Are you going to shout at me for it? Are you going to use that sword on me?” She stared at his blade, then back to him, accusingly. “Are you going to call me a liar? Because I did not lie. I had nothing to lie about because I am not her anymore.” She kicked the knife out of her reach, disgusted, furious, and heaving with more pent up frustration than she thought she would ever have toward the matter. Perhaps this is the damage five years takes on a person. Five years of altering my every move, my every thought, and hiding the parts of myself I am too scared to show. Five years did this, five years hid this atrocity. And now someone knows.

He knows.

“What happened to her?”

“You sound disappointed.” She spat. He has no right to be. He has no right to be here in the first place, in this room, in this building, anywhere near me. 

Reid stepped forward, slowly, his gaze level and calm, everything unlike hers. “Because she is the one I need. Not this. Not you. Not the pitiful excuse for a human being I see before me. Not the person I saw preferring to hide under tables rather than damn the Court, damn their expectations and fight, when you’re clearly more than capable. I need the woman of Cindere’s darkest depths to come back to me because she is the person I need for this job. She is someone I do not need to protect, someone I do not need to worry about - I need her. I need her Isolde, and you claim she is gone. Why? Why is she gone?” The sword was dangerously close to her now, he had approached without realising it, not until the tip of the blade was a hairsbreadth from her heaving chest.

“Because I did everything that I was supposed to do! Everything I had to in order to survive! Every unuttered whisper, every shattered thought, every urge tearing my mind apart - I kept it in. I kept it all in. And as for what happened to the person I used to be… I do not owe you my story. I do not owe it to anyone. They cannot know. They can never know. And I thought, neither could you.”

“You were wrong.” His quick, hissed out words were a burden on her heart. 

“That I was. I thought I could pretend for the rest of my life. I thought I could do it well. But you saw me. You saw through it all. You. Saw. Me. And look at you, you hate me.” His eyes were burning her nerves to shreds, his stare was too much, too raw, and she wanted to carve out his eyes to shield herself from it. 

“You were wrong.” He said it again, and again she fought with herself not to cry, not to let the terror show at her greatest secret resting in his palms.

“Do you think I want to be? Do you think I would not give anything to have this burden stripped from me? My past would tear the flesh from my bones before it parted my body, it would take the remains of me along with it and I would never recover.” His stare bothered her, it was too much, too seeing, too powerful, and it hurt her to meet it, to challenge it, to face it. “The things I have done are not for you to know, not truly. They are not for anyone. But know this Reid, I may be in pieces, I may not know who to be, certainly not her, but I am not broken. I will never be broken. So do not give me that look. Spare me your pity, spare me whatever judgements are in your eyes, and give me your sword.” 

“What for?” 

“So that I may finish this, in peace, once and for all.” She stepped to the side of the sword, the tip grazing her chest as she twisted, lunging for the pommel, and Reid twisted out of the way snatching her arm mid-air. “Isolde, I will not let you harm yourself.” 

She drove her boot into his instep, forcing him to raise his foot with a grunt and she swept his other leg, driving him down to the floor. She pinned him there with the very same arm clutching hers. “I am going to harm them.”

“No.”

One word, so simple, drove her to the brink of madness. She leant down over Reid, sneering. “You know that you cannot stop me, you know who I am now, you know who I was. You know Reid, you know. So rid your mind of any stupid thoughts and give me your sword.”

“No.” Again, he defied her. His stubbornness made her fingers clench, her nails digging into his sleeves until she conjured a wince from his irritated, stiff lips. 

“Then I will take it.” She reached and Reid flipped them both over, pinning her arms above her head. His hair was coming loose from his ribbon, strands fell over his face and tickled hers. The weight of his body was only just kept from crushing hers. “No.”

“Why?”

His gaze turned cold. “Because there is no need for you to attack dead bodies.”

Isolde stilled. “What?” 

“They’re all dead Isolde. We got them all.”

“Then-” The fight faded from her body, she saw the anger in her eyes dissolve in the reflection of his. “Then why did you not tell me?”

“I told you, no.” 

“You told me many things.” She slammed her knee into his ribs and freed herself from his grasp. “And now I shall tell you some more.” She took his sword, twisting it in her hands as she backed away to the door. “I may not be the person you need anymore Reid, but I am the person you had. Remember that.”

“Had?” His jaw fell slack slightly, he propped himself up on his elbows, staring at her.

“You heard me. You were upset, or whatever you wish to call it, but that gave you no right to judge me, to insult me, none at all. You had me, and now we’re through.”

“Isolde-” He started to get up and she raised the sword, pointing the tip in his general direction. “Stay down. I am leaving. I will not be followed, or I swear to the blood on my hands, on the sins of my soul, I will turn this blade upon you.”

If he follows I might say something I will regret, more so than this. It is better to leave like this than give him any more leverage against me. He knows too much and I too little, and that is why I have to leave. 

Her anger was behind the burning in her eyes, it had to be. Her anger was the reason the sword trembled in her grasp as she marched her way outside, moving over corpses, fallen furniture, over crushed foods and puddles of blood and debris, over the remains of what had been such a beautiful night. 

Her anger made her cheeks moist with fury as she finally reached the outdoors and the chill of the wind kissed her skin, cool against the scorching flush racing through her body.

Anger brought tears to her eyes, but it was devastation that made her blind to the shadow lunging toward her, until it was too late, until her head was ringing and she was face down on the floor. Until the world turned black and her fingers finally ceased to tremble. 

~ ~ ~

tagging @seastarblue because they were lovely enough to want to read some of my stuff, so here you go!

[readyforthegarden]

When the Nightingale Sings - Part Four

Pairing: Danny Wagner x F!Reader

Synopsis: Medieval AU! In a world where noble alliances dictate futures, you have been betrothed to Prince Emers, a man you barely know and certainly don't love. As you travel towards the royal palace for your impending wedding, your journey is upended, causing you to run straight into a kind, lonesome hunter. With no choice but to trust him, you embark on a journey together towards the nearest village, navigating through the forest and it's perils. As the solace you find in his companionship builds will you choose to honor your duty, or will you abandon everything you've ever know to follow your heart?

WC: 2877

Warnings: panic attacks, the cutting of clothes with a knife, talk of hunting

A/N: A big thank you to @earthlysorrows for beta-reading and editing and helping me along the way

Hours. You had been walking for hours, and your feet were screaming at you to stop. Yet you trudged on, following Danny’s large steps as best you could in the serpentine pattern he forged. The air was crisp, the cold pricking your cheeks while the sun shone down on you. Your body couldn’t tell if you were freezing or overheating, and for the millionth time, you debated untying the cloak Danny had loaned you and leaving it there on the forest floor. 

It was the second day of travel, and yesterday had been surprisingly easy. Danny had stopped for many breaks, letting you catch your breath and rest. But today was business, due to the feeling of “snow in the air”. 

“If we keep this pace, we’ll make it to town in less time!” Danny called over his shoulder. “We’ll have you to your prince before you can even curtsy.” 

“Great, that’s great.” you responded meekly. You couldn’t tell if it was your lack of excitement or the exertion that kept your voice from traveling too far. If he noticed, Danny didn’t say anything, he simply continued his path along the forest floor. “Is this a trail you take often? There are no markers.”

“Aye, there are markers.” Danny turned and smiled. “Only ones I would know.” he continued to walk a ways and then stopped, sniffing as he glanced up and down at a tree. You stopped by him and looked at the bark, seeing nothing.

“Danny, it’s a lovely tree…but what are we doing?” Danny grinned and reached up, pointing to a small carving just out of arm's length. 

“That’s a carving I put in years and years ago,” he responded. “Gets harder to find every year as the tree grows, but I made it so if anyone was trying to follow me to steal my pelts or my money, they can’t find me.” you nodded, understanding the zigzag path now. 

“That’s very clever,” you complimented, and Danny’s smile grew. “Do you go to Ashlight very often?”

“A few times a year, depends on how my hunts go and what I need to restock.” Danny looked back at you.  “Escorting fair maidens doesn’t happen very often.” a blush tinged your already pink cheeks, and you were grateful for the cover. 

“You don’t have many women running for their lives in the forest?” you bantered back, stepping over a large, fallen tree trunk. Your heel caught the rotted bark and you slipped, knowing within a few seconds your face would meet the soil of the forest floor. However, a firm hand grasped yours, holding you up. Danny was there, his wide gait undoubtedly the reason for his quick return to you. 

“Not that I can say. You would be the first.” Danny chuckled, helping you right yourself over the log. “How am I doing at saving the damsel in distress?”

“Your rescue attempts have all been successful, no complaints there.” you tried to hold back the smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “However the noble steed I’ve heard so much about appears to still be missing.” Danny shook his head, his curls bouncing.

“I tried, I really tried.” Danny let go of your hand, and as he turned, you watched your arm stretch out, trying to stay in contact for as long as possible. The two of you continued on, small chatters here and there. Danny would only pause when there was a decent enough clearing, looking up at the gray clouds that passed over the sun. By the time you were sat by a small fire with the sun already set behind the trees, you were fighting to keep your eyes open enough to eat your supper.

“Nights in the forest used to scare me,” Danny murmured, catching your attention. His eyes were on the fire, crackling and snapping. “My father used to tell me about a monster who lived out here.”

“What did he say?” Danny’s eyes flicked up to yours, a small smirk on his face.

“He said that there was a beast, a wicked, ugly thing that skulked around in the trees, always in the corner of your eye but never quite there. It would come out at night looking for it’s meal, and if anyone was found still in the forest after dark, it would eat them, its fangs ripping them up and crushing their bones.”

“What a lovely bedtime story,” you mused with a sour face, chewing slowly on the dried pork you’d just taken a bite of. “Surely it was meant to keep a young boy from venturing into the woods at night and getting lost.” Danny shrugged.

“Aye, it’s likely just that.” he agreed, eyes cast down to the fire again. “But sometimes, when I’m out late hunting, I think of it. Think of how if the beast were to find me, there would be no one to miss me.” furrowing your brow, you shook your head.

“Now that is a fallacy.” you argued. “You told me you had friends who resided in Ashlight. They would miss you.” Danny smiled softly, and nodded. “And now you have me.” his eyes shot up to yours, quicker than anything you had seen before.

“Do I?” His voice was quiet, nearly blending in with the crackling fire. Something heavy laid over the small distance between you, making your stomach flutter.

“You do,” you murmured back, keeping your eyes locked with his. Your stomach and heart were now fluttering together, and you swallowed roughly. “I would miss you.” the two of you were still locked in a shared gaze, the heaviness draping all around you. 

Snap!

In an instant you were scrambling to your feet, scurrying around the fire and to Danny’s side, kicking up a trail of leaves behind you. 

“Just a story, princess.” Danny looked around the darkness, finding nothing to cause alarm. “Remember what I told you, I would never let anything happen to you on this journey.” you looked up at him from your place, clung to his arm. “I’ll fight the beast if there is one.” as you followed his gaze towards the wood, a silhouette appeared. Large, sleek, and you began to grip Danny’s arm tighter as it moved closer towards the fire. Eyes glinted gold in the light, two orbs that stared unblinkingly toward the two of you. More snapping of twigs had you trying to scoot back and tug Danny with you, as he gripped the hilt of a knife in his belt loop. 

He began to pull his arm through your hands, moving to a crouching position. He was ready to attack, the sound on the blade by his side sliding against the soft leather that sheathed it. With a few more cracking steps, the creature emerged from the shadows. 

“A doe,” Danny murmured breathlessly. “A brave one at that.” Danny slid his knife back into the sheath and made a noise, clicking his tongue before picking up a small rock and tossing it away from the meager campsite, causing the doe to startle and turn back and run into the darkness. 

“I’ve never seen a deer so close before,” you whispered, staring in awe at the spot where she had been. 

“She must’ve smelled our food, and came looking.” Danny grunted as he settled back down in his spot. “It can happen around this time of year, as they’re starting to fatten up for winter.”

“Would she have not been good to hunt?” you asked, adjusting in your new seat beside him. Danny tossed his head back and forth a bit in a so-so motion.

“She looked a bit plump, but she still had a ways to go yet,” he answered. “And I don’t hunt does. Not unless I’m desperate for food or hides. You need them to make the fawns in the spring for the next season.”

“I see.” you pulled your cloak around you tighter as a breeze blew through the campsite. “Well, I’ve certainly had enough excitement for one day. I’m going to turn in.” Danny watched you move towards your camp roll, unfurling the thick blankets and laying them out. Normally you would find it indecent to sleep so closely to a man, but you found yourself staying within reach of him, the sounds of the forest still making you jump. 

“I’ll keep watch for the forest beast a little longer,” Danny joked, biting down on the bread in his hand. “Who knows, maybe I’ll tame it and we can ride it to Ashlight.”

“Wouldn’t that be something,” you couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled in your throat. “If you do tame it, I get give them a name.” 

“As you wish,” Danny bowed his head and you settled in, turning up the hood of your cloak to cover your eyes, embracing its warmth.

Danny’s forecast for snow hadn’t been incorrect. In fact, it had merely been delayed. Cool flakes landed in your hair and on your clothes, dampening them as they melted with the heat of exertion. Danny’s pace was slower today, keeping in step with you. 

“I’d wager we’re halfway to the village.” Danny mused. “We should be coming upon another one of my markers soon. You nodded quietly, trudging along and trying to recede as far as you could inside the cloak. “Have you given any thought to your letter?”

“Letter?” you asked, puzzled for a few moments. “Oh yes, the letter to the prince. I-I really haven’t…”

“I imagine he’ll send a whole court to fetch you.” Danny mused, squinting up at the sky. “He seems to like to waste kingdom funds like that.”

“I am sure he’ll send a few knights, perhaps a steward.” you replied, trying to ignore the twist in your stomach.

“And then you’ll be living high on the hog. You’ll never have to walk through a forest again, you’ll have someone to carry you. Carry you, dress you, bathe you, hell, someone will probably chew your food for you.”

“I don’t think-” you were cut off before you could say anything else, Danny focusing on his imagination rather than the cold. Your chest began to tighten, an ache like you couldn’t get enough air to your lungs residing there.

“He’ll have you burn those clothes, I’m sure of it. Those are not fit for royalty.” Danny snorted, waving his hand in the air. “No, he’s going to drape you in all of the gowns of silk, weigh down your little head with tiaras and jewels.” Danny continued on, talking about you as if you were a small child's doll, something to dress up and down and change. Something to force into a box when you were all used up.

You stopped, your ribs felt like they were tightening inwards, squeezing every ounce of air from your lungs. It was worse than any corset tightening you’d ever felt. A palm against a tree trunk, you heaved as much as you could, shaking. Dropping your pack from your shoulders, you clawed at the clasps of the cloak at your collarbone, suddenly too tight, your body too warm beneath it. As you whipped the heavy wool away, Danny noticed you were no longer walking, and turned as you bent over, silent sobs spilling from you as you tried to gather one good breath.

“What’s happening? Are you okay?” Danny rushed over, panicked. He crowded you, overwhelming you too fast and your free hand shot out, pushing him away. Danny was startled at your sudden strength.

“I can’t-” a wheeze cut your own voice off. “Breathe!” your hands moved to your corset, trying to pull it away from your body at the front, before frantically moving to the laces in the back. “I can’t breathe!” you sobbed, the tears spilling down your face. Your hands were swatted away from your back, and the sound of fabric ripping was loud in your ear. The corset fell from your waist, and your lungs could finally take in the air they were burning for. Turning, you looked to Danny, who stood there, still frazzled, his knife in one hand, the other up, waiting for the next thing you’d throw at him.

You were still gasping, sniffling and wiping tears from your cheeks as you put your back against the tree trunk. Danny was patient as you reclaimed oxygen to your lungs, flushed coloring evening back out. 

“Are you-”

“I am not a thing.” your voice was hard. “I am not something to talk about as if I’m not a living, breathing creature as you are.”

“I didn’t-”

“All of my life I have been told what to do and who I am.” you continued, a fiery look in your eyes. Danny couldn’t tell if it was directed at him or in general, but he took the heat just as well, lowering his hands slowly and sheathing the knife that freed you. “I will not let you speak of me like I am plaything. I will not be yours, nor the princes.” Something flickered in Danny’s eyes, his lips pressing together in a line.

“I am sorry,” your name left his lips instead of ’princess’. “I did not mean to cause this distress to you.” 

“It is over now.” you placed a hand over your chest, feeling your skin now cold. “We should get moving again, if we want to keep your schedule.”

“Your corset,” It was now that you noticed Danny keeping his eyes trained to your face, or the bark of the tree just above your head. 

“The laces are cut, there’s no reason.” Danny eyed your bag on the ground, and pulled out the hair ribbons you had packed. He made quick work of tying them together, and helped you re-lace the corset, albeit looser than it had been before. He picked up your cloak, fastening it back around your neck when you were ready and helped slip your pack onto your back again.

“Are you okay to continue? Do you need to eat?”

“I’m fine, Danny,” you reassured him. “Just…please can we not talk about the prince?” the same flash that was in his eyes before flickered again and he nodded. “At least not until the village.”

“I can agree to that.” Danny nodded. “We’ll continue slowly, I don’t want you to lose your breath again.”

“Thank you.” The two of you continued walking, mostly in silence now. Questions swirled around his mind, burning the tip of his tongue as he pressed it to the back of his teeth, reining them in. Your hysterics at the thought of your life with the prince, he didn’t think any other woman would have. There was something he wondered about, one question burning more harshly than the others. It wasn’t until you both were laying by the dwindling fire that night, neither able to fall asleep, that he let out a request.

“Tell me about your life,” Danny’s voice was soft, barely carried in the wind. You turned, facing him, and shrugged under your blankets. You both had chosen to sleep top of head to top of head, making it easy to gaze towards him.

“You’ve surmised most,” you sighed, picking at the edge of the blanket boredly.

“Tell me what I’ve left out.” he was eager to know more about you, and even further, what caused the scene earlier.

“I was born and lived in Indigwall all my life,” you started. “My mother and father had me by mistake…or at least that’s what the nursery maids whispered when they thought I couldn’t hear. They’d already secured an heir, and no one wanted our land or title, so why try for more?”

“You have a brother?” you nodded, feeling the slash his passing had left in your heart burn again. Your mind shifted to the sentiment you’d long had, that if he were still here, he would have been the one with an advantageous match, and you could have been free for just a little longer, hidden by his success in suiting.

“Had,” you answered Danny’s question softly. “He was taken by The Illness when it swept through our countryside.” Danny was quiet a few moments, before clearing his throat. 

“Aye, my own parents were taken by it as well,” the wound that had reopened in your heart split further, empathy for your friend pouring from it. Without thinking, you raised your hand, cupping his cheek. 

“I am sorry for your loss. Rest assured they would be proud of the man you have become.” Danny held back the tears in his eyes, though you caught your reflection in the glassiness that ensued. 

“And your brother would be proud of the young lady you are.” your eyes fell from Danny’s, a prayer echoing through your mind that his statement was true. “Do you ever wonder if they’re looking over us?”

“Sometimes, yes.” you nodded, eyes beginning to feel heavy. “Though certain circumstances have led me to believe otherwise.” Danny hummed, his voice seeming far off as your eyes closed fully.

“True, though they are not gods. Merely spirits keeping us in line.”

“Whatever my line ends up being,” you muttered, sleep pulling you deeper and deeper. “I’m glad to have met you.”

“Aye, me too.”

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[atlabeth]

here with me - george karim

request from @iloveyousomuchhhhhh

summary: ghost-hunting isn't the easiest occupation in the world. it helps when you've got someone like george in your corner.

a/n: thank you for this request, it was very cute and i loved my first delve into george, especially writing completely in his pov!

im not an expert on anxiety but i based the reader's anxiety and panic attack on my experience with them; not everyone experiences them the same way so keep that in mind. thank you again for the request and i hope you enjoy<3 shoutout to my restless reader characters you guys are struggling

wc: 3k

warning(s): reader has anxiety, reader has a small panic attack, emotional hurt/comfort, fluffy ending

You were a restless person. 

It was the first thing George noticed when he guided you into the living room and watched you settle into the cushions. Your leg almost instantly started bobbing up and down, and he could feel the vibrations through the wooden floor. He gave a small nod to Lockwood before he walked off. 

Restless wasn’t necessarily bad, he thought as he stood in the kitchen, watching the kettle and waiting for it to boil. Restless meant more time to be productive, more time to go over plans, more time to spend in the archives. There was always more time to be spent in the archives. 

Restless also wasn’t necessarily good, he thought with another glance at Lockwood. He was already plying you with easy smiles and kind words, and George wondered how long it would be until you ran off screaming like the last few girls. Restless meant absolutely zero patience, a blatant disregard for his pleas of a little more time, a penchant for getting into trouble. 

Well. It wasn’t exactly like he was a stranger to those things, working with Lockwood. George just didn’t know if he would be able to handle another one. 

George walked back into the room with a tray of tea, about to announce himself, when Lockwood shot him a warning look. You were sitting there with your eyes closed, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, as you held Lockwood’s watch in your hands. George stood there, watching you in all your focus, when suddenly your eyes flew open and you practically threw the watch back to the table. 

“I’m sorry for that,” you breathed, “but absolutely nobody should have that thing near them. It almost hurts to go further with it.” 

Lockwood’s lips twitched. George chuckled. 

“Tea?” George asked, and your whole body flinched as your head whipped around to him. 

“Yes, please.” The words rushed out of your mouth, as if you were afraid to use up more time than needed. He handed you a cup that you accepted gratefully. 

“Pitkin’s best,” he said. 

Your leg had stopped bouncing up and down with such ferocity, George noticed. 

He smiled. 

“Well, that’s a good sign,” Lockwood continued, picking up the watch with a slight glance and an even slighter smile at George. “You see, that was my watch…” 

Lockwood’s words trailed off in his ears as George continued to watch you. How you shifted every few seconds, trying to get comfortable like it was a fruitless task. How you latched onto every word Lockwood said with ferocious attentiveness, as if you were scared of what would happen if you missed a single syllable. Your eyes flicked over to George for the shortest moment, but it was enough for him to realize he’d been staring. 

He cleared his throat and set the tray down on the table, settling down in his seat. He’d meant to take his armchair as usual, be judgmental as usual, say something clever to Lockwood when you turned out to not be the right fit as usual. 

But instead, George stayed silent. 

And he watched. 

-

George ran into you the next morning—a slight exaggeration, calling it morning, seeing as it was four in the morning—and it was hardly planned. He’d woken up with cotton in his mouth, and on his noble voyage for a glass of water, that was when he nearly ran into you. 

“Oh, god—” the words rushed out of your mouth, an already placating hand flying up as you put distance in between the two of you— “I’m so sorry. I didn’t even notice you.” 

George squinted, nudging his glasses back up with the tip of his finger. “What are you doing up?” 

“Couldn’t sleep,” you explained with a gesture back at the table. George noticed the binder, the folder, the scattered papers. “I thought I would make sure I was ready.” 

“...You’re reading through our notes,” he said slowly, “again.” 

“It never hurts to be prepared,” you said. 

George huffed. “I’d say we’re quite prepared. This is one of the rare times I’ve been able to get Lockwood to slow down.” He shrugged. “I suppose I have you to thank for that, since you’re quite new. He doesn’t want to lose an agent he just got.” 

Your eyes widened slightly. “I don’t plan on being lost.” 

He made an off-handed gesture. “Don’t take anything I say too seriously. I’m still waking up.” 

“Ah.” You stared at him for a moment before you seemed to snap out of it, and you cleared your throat. “I was just going up to get my coat. It’s a bit drafty in here.” 

“I’d recommend you go to sleep instead,” George said. “You’re bright, and I’d like you to stay that way for the job tomorrow.” He frowned. “Today, rather.” 

“I just like going over everything until I know I can’t forget it,” you said. “It eases my mind.” 

“I’m pretty sure you know it by now.” 

“I am as well,” you agreed, “but you never really know what you know until you’re staring a ghost down point blank, do you?” 

The smallest of smiles formed against his will. “You aren’t helping your case.” 

You tilted your head to the side. “Really?” 

“Really,” he agreed. “We don’t need the entire agency sleep-deprived tomorrow.” 

“The entire agency?” 

“Lockwood does not sleep,” George said. “I think he came out of the womb with dark circles.” 

You chuckled, and you nodded after a moment. “Alright. I’ll turn in just for you.” 

“It’s an honor,” he said. 

He meant to be facetious, but he found he meant it more than he realized. George watched you go, up the stairs and into the attic, and it took the sound of the door closing for him to snap out of it. 

He blinked, shaking his head as he went back to his own room. It wasn’t until he cleared his throat to an audience of no one but himself that he realized he never even got that glass of water. 

-

“Does Lockwood spend much time in the archives?” you asked. 

You were trying to make pleasant enough small talk to fill in the silence on your walk over—George appreciated the concept, but not so much the reality. 

“He’s not one for details,” George said. “He can’t charm his way through articles.” 

You chuckled, and George smiled. He felt a strange swell of pride every time he managed to make you laugh, or really just happy in any kind of way. 

“It’s the reason he got me from Fittes,” he continued. “Lockwood can fence his way out of a box, but sometimes it’s like he’d rather die than wait a few more days so I can make sure we’ve got enough information.” 

“Well, you’ve got another member on your team,” you said with a slight smile of your own. “I’m not very good with talking to people. He can stick to that—I’d much rather be in the archives with you.” 

George felt his cheeks heat the slightest bit. He looked over at you, once again finding himself studying your features, and his eyes darted away the second you looked back at him. 

“Welcome to the team,” he finally settled on. George found he meant it wholly. 

-

George Karim prides himself on noticing things. 

He is, after all, a researcher above all else. He’s able to find breaks in cases Lockwood could never dream of. He was able to get one up on Fittes kids all the time without even trying. He was, henceforth, very easily able to notice when his higher-ups were getting annoyed with his questions and poking around, and happily allowed himself to be ‘stolen’ from the company by Anthony Lockwood. 

And George Karim, as someone who prided himself on noticing things, noticed you an awful lot. 

He noticed that, whenever they got Arif’s, you waited until he and Lockwood had gotten their first pick before you took your own. 

He noticed that your favorite kind of gum to chew on jobs was the strongest spearmint available, and though you hated cinnamon mints, you pretended to love them just to put Lockwood up in arms. 

He noticed that you preferred to lace up your left boot before your right, no matter what. George was sure you all could have been on the run from a dozen Type Twos and you would still take the time for the specifics. 

He noticed that you doubted every single thing you did, questioned yourself whenever possible, and always let George take the lead whenever the two of you ended up researching together. 

There was one time in the archives, on the most frustrating case he’d had in a while when George felt like he could have pulled all his hair out in pure annoyance. You then offered up what turned out to be a crucial bit of information, something that led them down the path to solving it—you’d found it an hour earlier, but you were so unsure about actually being right that you held it back until you had triple checked it. 

George made sure that from then on, whenever you two were researching together, you would share whatever you found immediately. 

(“You’re valuable,” he’d scoffed, “almost as much a genius in here as I am. So don’t hold anything back.

He wouldn’t forget the smile you graced him with for a long time.)

George noticed more and more about you the more the three of you worked together, even more so when you went to the archives together while Lockwood worked the field, or went off with each other to pick up groceries while Lockwood met with clients, or any time when it was just the two of you. 

Lockwood enjoyed leaving George with you, for some strange reason. Maybe he thought you would drive him crazy, with your almost neurotic double and triple-checking of everything and excessive need for cleanliness. The joke was on Lockwood, though—George rather enjoyed your company. 

You were pleasant, quiet, intelligent, and you were willing to work with him. George actually quite liked you. What more could he need in a colleague? 

So when George heard quite a large crash coming from the attic, he took it upon himself to investigate. He figured he at least owed it to you, what with how much you’d been helping him lately in the archives. Your small marks on the Thinking Cloth in defense of him in the midst of his and Lockwood’s scribbled squabble were another point in your favor, as well as the fact that whenever things went wrong in your vicinity, you were prone to stubborn insistence that you figure it out on your own without any help. 

He thought it was ridiculous—even more so that both you and Lockwood shared that trait. What was the damn point of working in an agency if you weren’t going to accept help from your colleagues? 

So when he got to the top of the stairs, he knocked on the door to the attic and called out your name. “Is everything alright?” 

There was no response. George pressed his ear against the door, and he could hear heavy breathing. He didn’t consider himself much of an expert on breathing, but it was obviously yours—you sounded as if you’d just run a marathon. 

He frowned as he knocked again and said your name again. When there was yet again no response, he sighed. 

“I hope you’re decent,” he said, “because I’m coming in.” 

There was no immediate protest, so George cracked open the door and peered in. You were in fact decent, much to his relief, but that was about the only good thing. 

You were sitting against your dresser, back pressed flat against the wood. It wasn’t exactly what he’d expected to find—you, hyperventilating, eyes rimmed red with visible tear tracks down your cheeks, and a few fallen books on the floor across from you. 

But George didn’t panic, only stared at you for a moment before he moved into action. He was no stranger to all of this. 

He knelt down across from you and looked you right in the eye, saying your name. “Do you want me to stay?” 

You nodded shakily, and he mirrored the action. “Can you speak?” 

“A— a bit,” you managed through heaved breaths. 

He nodded again. “Breathe with me. Can you do that?” 

You nodded again. You seemed to be calming down just the slightest amount, if only because someone else was with you. He would take whatever he could get. 

George slowly let out all the air in his lungs, keeping eye contact with you the entire time as you followed along with him. Then he breathed in, counting the four seconds on his fingers for you, and held it for eight and let it out for seven doing the same.

“That’s it,” he said. “You’re doing great.” 

You screwed your eyes shut, a hand reaching out blindly, and without fully thinking, George took it. His breath caught for a split second as your fingers tightened around his, then he just swallowed as he squeezed back. 

“It’s alright,” George murmured. “I’m here with you. I’ve got you.” 

You continued to breathe the way he showed you, holding onto George’s hand while he murmured reassurances to get you through it. Eventually, the haggard breathing ceased, your vice-like grip on his hand loosened, and the storm had been weathered. 

“Are you alright?” George asked quietly. “Well— better than before?” 

You nodded yet again, and you used your free hand to wipe away drying tear tracks on your cheeks. “Yeah. I— I’m better.” 

“Good.” 

“I’m sorry,” you rasped. 

He frowned. “For what?” 

“For this,” you mumbled, and you pulled your hand away. “I know you didn’t sign up to deal with this—” 

George reached for your hand again, lacing his fingers with yours, and you stopped as your gaze met his. 

“No need to apologize,” he said. “You’re part of the team, remember? I’ve got your back.” 

You nodded a few times, that smile he’d come to appreciate slowly coming back. “Right. Thank you, George.” 

“Of course,” he said. “We deal with ghosts every day. I’m… no stranger to panic attacks.” 

Something in your eyes changed, and your throat bobbed. “It… it was because of the ghost. From today.” 

“I figured,” he murmured. 

“It hit a bit too close to home,” you said wryly, “the way they died and all. And it didn’t help that you nearly got ghost-touched.” 

That gave him pause. “It was because of me?” 

You shrugged, glancing away again. “It would honestly be better if I hated you all. I wouldn’t get so scared every time something went wrong. Which—” you huffed a laugh— “with us, is practically every case.” 

George still couldn’t quite wrap his mind around it. Apparently, his silence was a sign, because you sighed. 

“I keep seeing it, George,” you said, voice slightly strained. “I keep seeing you and that damned ghost, except when I try to sleep, Lockwood isn’t there with his rapier to save you.” 

He couldn’t help but look into your eyes then, really see you. How could he not, when you said things like that? 

“I’m here,” he said softly, holding up your intertwined hands. “Flesh and bone.” He moved your hands to his heart. “Still beating.” 

“Still beating,” you repeated in a whisper. 

And the two of you remained like that for a touch longer than would be considered normal, but George didn’t want to let go. There was something about you, there had always been something about you, that made him not want to let go. 

“Do you want to come to my room?” he asked, and it took a beat for him to realize how sudden it was. “Not— not like that, I swear. I just—” George laughed nervously as he let your hands fall back down— “I figure you don��t really want to be alone right now.” 

“You figured right.” You glanced around your room and shivered. “The buzz of the ghost lamps really starts to get to you after a while.” 

George chuckled, and he helped you up. Your hands remained intertwined as you went out the room, down the stairs, and into his own. He felt a bit ashamed at the clutter, but you didn’t seem bothered. 

“My bed’s quite comfy,” he said, shifting a bit as he stared at it. “It should be good for the both of us.” The burst of confidence that guided him from your room to his seemed to have faded, leaving him holding hands with a girl and not much idea of where to go from there. 

And again, you didn’t seem to care. “Thank you for doing this,” you said. “I— I appreciate it more than you know. I don’t think I could have gotten through the night alone.” You paused. “I don’t think I could have gotten through that alone.” 

“I told you,” George said, “you’re part of the team. We’ll always be here for you.” 

You smiled, and George understood why poetry was written. 

“I’ll always be here for you,” he added. 

“And I’ll always be here for you,” you said. “As long as you’ll have me.” 

“Barring our deaths, I think we’ll have you around for a while,” George said. He cleared his throat. “Apologies. That’s not very funny after this afternoon.” 

You laughed, and you tugged George towards the bed. You pulled your knee up to your chest when you sat down. “You can joke about it all you want as long as it stays a joke.” 

George smiled. “Got it.” 

The two of you settled into his bed, backs facing each other and him staring at the wall. George had never paid so much attention to his breathing, but he found that when he was around you lately, he’d been paying attention to everything.

(George should have known the moment he considered asking Lockwood for advice that he was too far gone.) 

“George,” you said, breaking the silence. He’d never thought his name could sound so pleasant. “Thank you again. For all of this.” 

“Any time,” he said. He meant it with all his heart. 

And with your body warmth so close to him, the extra weight on the mattress, your soft breathing in even intervals, George fell asleep faster than ever. 

[starryoak]

So! That Dungeon Meshi/Delicious in Dungeon sure is a great show! So much so that I made an OC for it! Please click the link so you can see it where tumblr doesn’t ruin the quality

The thing is, though? I kind of came up with her to fix the most significant flaw I saw in the ending, one that I’m not sure anyone else is going to be insane enough to actually think is a flaw like I do.

The thing is, this flaw is connected to some pretty major endgame spoilers, so if you don’t want to be spoiled, you really can’t stick around; this entire character’s story is intimately tied to the ending of Dungeon Meshi.

Ok! So, to start off, explaining my perspective requires knowledge of one fact; Marcille is my favorite character in the series, for one specific reason. I am extremely thanatophobic. 

I have an intense, all consuming fear of death that used to leave me literally wracked with actual physical pain from the nightly panic attacks I would have obsessing over my own impending mortality, something that only stopped because I take intense mood dampeners, not because I ‘got over it’.

So, obviously, Marcille’s backstory and motivation resonated deeply with me, her fears and obsessions over her friend’s mortality, the omnipresent specter of death trailing behind her stealing all her loved ones away, how she grew up with the looming knowledge of her father’s increasing age and his inevitable passing, something that hit me even harder because not only do I do the same thing, obsess over my parents increasing age, but Marcille’s dad physically resembles my own.

Her goal of equalizing the lifespans of the races, ultimately… I think it’s a noble one! It is the ultimate injustice of living that death is inevitable, one that I genuinely believe is worth solving. I don’t actually know if we ever will, it is probably impossible… but that doesn’t mean we should give up. Back in the 1300s, smallpox was inevitable. Now, it doesn’t exist outside of a lab! For most of human existence, half of all people died before puberty. Now, child mortality is down to less than 5%. https://xkcd.com/1520/ sums it up pretty nicely.

And then, the ending of the series. Well. Look. It’s not just that I disagree with how the series ends with “well, if you just eat right and exercise, that will release you from grasping your own mortality”. I mean, it is a lot that. But I’m used to series ending with some form of “people with a healthy fear of their own mortality are evil/insane/stupid/cowards”, hell, most characters genuinely afraid of their own death in media are villains!

Not only that, to a certain extent, it’s very logical that the series end with a moral about accepting the circle of life. It’s inevitable when the series focuses so much on food, because death is an unavoidable part of that cycle; to eat, we must kill. Even vegetarians can’t escape that fact, with how much we’ve learned about how plants are more alive than we once thought. 

It's not that the series ended with that moral that bothers me, or at least. I wouldn’t be as bothered as I am, if it was just that. There’s another couple aspects to the ending that I feel were mishandled. One of them is one I think that if most people were honest, would also agree, or at least understand why I think it’s a misstep, and one that only someone who’s insane in the exact same way I am would even care about in the first place.

I’ll start with the reasonable criticism first; I think, if they wanted to really sell me on the idea that Marcille is truly changed and has come to accept death as a natural consequence of life like she says she has when they discuss the potential of Falin’s resurrection failing… Falin should have died, then. 

It’s not that I’m not happy she’s alive, or that I don’t want her and Marcille to be together, but rather, it rings extremely hollow to me to have Marcille go “Oh, I’ve learned to accept death, after all of this journey, if Falin’s resurrection fails, I can accept that.” and then have her not have to test that newfound conviction. 

It feels too convenient, like the series couldn’t actually commit to that moral fully. Beyond that, if anything, I would think that the journey they went on would make Marcille more firm in her desire to resurrect Falin, if anything. 

But I can understand the logic they want you to go with, I just think that it feels like a cop-out to try and sell me on this “death is the natural consequence of life” moral, and then go “oh, except for Falin. Falin gets to live, because she deserves it.” 

Why does she deserve it more? Why did you say all that if not to set up the failure? So you could reassure us “don’t worry, Marcille doesn’t have those naive, stupid ideas about improving the lives of the short lived races anymore, she’s learned better! Now she understands that some people just deserve to live longer than others!” Admittedly, that’s me being uncharitable, but it just feels wrong to me.

Now, onto the second, more insane person critique, one that I don’t think anyone but me even thought about, and one that I think most people would think is being too nitpicky. 

But the thing is, it relates to the worldbuilding, and as much as people will likely want to tell me “you’re thinking too hard about a minor aspect of worldbuilding”, the thing is that Dungeon Meshi, above all, is very obviously a labor of love from the creator, and she clearly thinks about her worldbuilding a lot! 

So it feels like saying that I’m overthinking it is dismissing her intricately crafted world as not worthy of engaging with fully. You can’t have it both ways, where you only want people engaging in your worldbuilding if they’re saying something positive.

Anyway; it has to do with a very minor, throwaway panel in the discussion of the history of the Winged Lion/demon’s interaction with the world outside its dimension in chapter 87; where it’s revealed, offhand, that the differences in lifespan between the races is in and of itself caused by the demon granting wishes, as can be seen here. 

And. Well. That sits wrong with me. What happened to the conviction that it’s inherently wrong and twisted to use the demon’s powers? What happened to the conviction that they need to reverse all the changes that the demon forced on the world? Oh, so, since it happened so long ago, it’s no longer a problem? It’s only a problem when someone wants to use the demon to equalize the lifespans?

And I realize it’s insane to care this much about such a minor, throwaway line, but honestly? I think both my complaints about the ending stem from the same root frustration with the hypocrisy of it. Death is natural and worth accepting, except Falin’s death, then she deserves to live because her friends worked so hard for it. The demon’s powers are inherently wrong to use and must be reversed, except when it happened thousands of years ago, then it’s just the way things are and we have to get used to it.

What bothers me especially is how unforced of an error it was. Just have the differences in lifespans be because the world is a fundamentally cruel and unjust place, like it is in real life! You don’t have to ‘explain’ it, because it’s not something that needs explaining. 

But now that you’ve brought it up, suddenly I have to ask, well, why were their demon wishes valid and not Marcille’s? Because you said that the demons powers were inherently warped and twisted and that they had to undo all of the damage it caused. And I do agree that the demon was causing damage and needed to be stopped! I just dislike the hypocritical criticism of Marcille’s entirely reasonable desire to not outlive all her loved ones by centuries.

Anyway. So, how does this tie into my OC? I’ll get to that!

This is Lymsie Bens, and she’s a half-foot mage, something that, if you remember, is actually a fairly rare thing for her to be! So how did this come to be, considering Chilchuck says that most half-foots fear higher magic, on account of them being unwilling test subjects for elves whenever they got too close?

Lymsie grew up the daughter of an older couple of relatively rich and very well off half-foots, Benbur Sams and Pamsie Hobs, living in a town in the Eastern Continent not all that far from the magic school that Marcille and Falin attended, and ever since she was young, she grew up with one thing weighing on her mind; The deaths of her parents. 

Oh, no, her parents are still alive! Even by the time of this picture! 

But she still knew it would happen. She loves her parents, more than anything in the world, and she would look at them every day and count the grey hairs, the wrinkles, small as they may be, considering they’re half-foots, and look youthful for far longer than the other races. 

As much as the other races wouldn’t be able to tell by looking at them, they were old! Or at least, older than most couples usually are when they had children, and Lymsie was incredibly aware of it every time she looked at their faces, and saw them getting older and older.

And that didn’t even get into her own fears. As a child, she tried to befriend the gnomes that went to the private school her parents had sent her to, one that had mostly gnomes and where she was one of the only half-foots, and while racism meant she didn’t succeed very often, the times she succeeded, she would always end up having to graduate friends within the year. 

She would find herself outgrowing them quickly, and her friends would look at her with pity, like she was just seconds away from keeling over, like they shouldn’t get too atttached to someone who would die so soon. 

It made her realize something that left her feeling cold and scared; she was going to die. And not only was she going to die, she was going to die far sooner than she wanted. Well, she didn’t ever want to die, but she especially didn’t want to die so soon!

Eventually, she started feeling bitter and resentful about the whole thing, how unfair it was. Not just that the long lived races had all the power and money, but that they had the lifespans they did at all! 

And maybe it would have been easier not to resent them as she grew up if making friends didn’t get harder and harder as she grew up, as kids started picking up prejudices from their parents and started caring about their social status enough that they don’t want to be seen being friends with a half-foot… maybe she would have grown up a little more well adjusted.

As well, while the private school was definitely fancy by the standards of half-foots, it wasn’t a very affluent one for gnomes, and as such, the magic they taught was rudimentary at best. 

The teachers clearly didn’t expect the half-foots to get anything out of the classes, to the point where they were practically left alone the whole period, while the teachers focused on the more ‘promising’ students.

But Lymsie wasn’t willing to let that happen to her, to be left behind like her fellows; she wanted to learn magic if it was the last thing she did. She knew there had to be a solution to her problems with magic. 

So, despite the teachers’ prejudices, she applied herself, and she forced them to acknowledge her skills. They didn’t like it, but they had no choice but to recognize her skills for what they were; extraordinary, especially for a half-foot, a race supposedly predisposed against magic.

After Lymsie graduated from school with the highest honors that the school was willing to give her, she found herself looking for higher education in the arts of dungeon and healing magic, having learned all she could at the level she was at. 

She first tried to apply to the highest magic school nearby, the same Marcille and Falin attended, but there was a problem. The school refused to accept a half-foot, even if she easily passed the requirements.

A half-foot simply didn’t have the raw magical talent that was required for higher learning, you see. No matter how she begged or pleaded, she couldn’t change such a simple fact of biology.

Lymsie wasn’t satisfied. If she couldn’t get into that school, there were others in the world. She simply would have to say goodbye to her parents, secretly fearing, no matter how ridiculously, that they would die before she could get back.

Her parents supported her in her endeavors to learn magic; they were proud of their daughter’s accomplishments and how far she’d come, even if privately they felt her goals unrealistic.

Lymsie eventually found a school willing to teach her, but it was an uphill battle. Magic schools just weren’t made for half-foots; it was a struggle to use furniture made for elves and tallmen, but she refused to give in. Simple setbacks like a little discomfort wouldn’t stop her.

She poured herself into research, defying those who coddled her, cooing over how cute it was she was even trying, when everyone knows that half-foots simply can’t channel the mana required for true magic.

She focused her research on the magic of healing, the art of resurrection had to be connected somehow! She knew there had to be more to it. As she researched more, it became clearer and clearer that there was something missing to the discussion, some secret hidden and kept out of textbooks, and she wanted to find it.

Lymsie’s research deepened, spending her days glued to every book she could find in the library, excelling in her studies and at every test, she was making a name for herself among the school for her talents. 

In truth, it wasn’t exactly a good reputation she was garnering. Her stubbornness and bitter affect didn’t make her many friends, something she eventually realized herself, but it was too little, too late. 

She couldn’t win back people who were determined to see her in a bad light, for having the opinions she did and the skills she had, so she pressed on ahead anyway. Eventually, she had learned everything she could through conventional means, and she had a choice.

She could head back home to her parents, accept defeat against the insurmountable weight of her own mortality, live out the rest of her life content she had beaten the odds and learned what she could. 

Or, she could keep searching. Keep pushing the boundaries she had come across in her research, the walls she had encountered that seemed deliberately put up to stop her from attaining her goals.

There was only one choice for Lymsie, in the end. To keep going. In truth, she already knew where to look, though only because of warnings to stop; dark magic. Of course she had heard the rumors, of powerful magic that elves possessed, of how they would kidnap half-foots for cruel experiments to test the limits of what magic could do.

While she had heard those warnings, the idea didn’t dissuade her; in fact, it excited her. There was potential, magic beyond what she had learned, if only she could find it. It meant there were people out there testing the limits of what could be done with magic!

If she could learn what the secrets were to it, the power could be hers! The idea of being spirited away, of experiments that stretched the boundaries of conventional magic, it was a dream!

It didn’t matter to her that it could be dangerous, it became a private fantasy of hers, to imagine herself whisked away to the land of the elves, to see magic beyond her wildest dreams.

Lymsie would dutifully send letters to her parents informing her of her research, but she kept her fantasies and pursuit of dark magic secret. She knew that her parents would worry for her if they found out she had such dangerous intentions. She didn’t want them to worry, though not enough to stop her search, of course. 

She chased after every rumor of dark magic she could, though she began to learn the art of not being a colossal bitch to everyone she meets, of playing into stereotypes to get what she wanted. 

It never seemed to get her closer to her true goal, the rumors of ancient magic not enough to satisfy her ultimate desires, no elves willing to indulge the fantasies of a single half-foot, until one day, out of nowhere, the sky opened up. 

From massive tears in the fabric of the sky itself, long and terrifying arms descended down and began to pluck people out of their homes and villages, massive eyes peeking out from the dark void beyond the stars above.

Destruction rained, for a brief moment, the world itself seemed like it was going to end. But what Lymsie saw was the culmination of everything she had ever hoped for. Ancient magic, pouring out from the heavens themselves, right there for her to see.

And then it stopped. As quickly as the chaos began, it ended, and with it, Lymsie saw her dreams falling away as well. She knew then, she had to discover what happened. Whatever it takes, she knew that she would do it. Her goals, for once, finally seemed to be in reach!

Even with the desire of elves to keep their ancient magic hidden, in the end there was very little they could do to hide what had happened; the secret of the dungeon’s magic became known. The infinite well of energy that existed beyond the stars, the malevolent will that only desired to feed, and, of course, the entire kingdom that had sprung up overnight.

Rumors flew, of the king who had conquered and devoured the demon, and what was more, of the mysterious mages that had ruled the kingdom before him. The lunatic mage, who rumors say had cursed the kingdom with immortality, it was confirmation; the impossible could be done. Magic could free her from the shackles of her fate.

There were even more rumors, of resurrections and ancient magic, so much that Lymsie couldn’t discern fact from fiction. They couldn’t all be true, could they? She would never know, unless she tried.

She set out to the Golden Kingdom, to uncover the truth at any costs. It was a long and grueling journey to be undertaken alone by someone so small, but her affluence helped lighten the load. Though nothing could keep the travels from being long, it became clearer and clearer as she kept on, that the Golden Kingdom was alive with ancient magic, a kingdom that had been touched so deeply by the past that the very ground was charged with mana.

She was singleminded in her goals, to seek out the truth of what had happened that day, to uncover the center of this grand mystery. And luckily, the kingdom was abuzz with travelers, it seemed that whatever had happened had left the kingdom in dire need of subjects, and they were accepting anyone. 

Moreover, they were accepting anyone, of any race. Lymsie had never met a kobold or orc before in her life, and suddenly she found herself surrounded by them. Not only that, but they were welcome as much as any other. 

Lymsie tried not to hope, tried not to let herself believe that she could be accepted as well, if other ‘lesser’ races had found themselves welcome, could she be as well? It was almost frightening to imagine after how long she had spent being rejected by others.

There came a point, as Lymsie settled into her base of operations (she refused to call it a home without her parents beside her), that she realized there was nowhere else to look but to the castle itself. The newly crowned royals were the center of all of this, she was sure. 

She investigated every rumor, every errant piece of information she could, playing the conscientious citizen who simply needed to know what kind of place she was living in. She was but a small and simple half-foot who didn’t want trouble, you see. 

She received bits and pieces of information that told the story of a small circle of the highest echelons of the kingdom, who had come from nothing; privately, she suspected this to be a falsehood. 

Who could believe that elves would not have swooped in to appoint their own leaders? She suspected that this tale of simple adventurers rising to power through their wits and guile was simple mythologizing, something all dynasties did to establish legitimacy.

The king, who had devoured the demon, who had destroyed the only hope Lymsie had of solving her problems, and the sister who was rumored to have been resurrected from certain death, beyond anything anyone had done before, the half-foot who ran the adventurer’s union, at the side of royalty? It was so unbelievable that Lymsie had to uncover the truth of it all.

The sister of the king, the one who the most fantastical and obviously false rumors had claimed to be a dragon, was clearly the center of what had happened, and Lymsie knew she had to reach her. If rumors of her death were in any way true, she was the key to everything Lymsie desired.

Sneakily, she began to worm her way upward. With her money, it wasn’t hard to establish herself among the elite half-foots, and though she had no real interest in adventuring, she joined the half-foot’s guild, happy to pay their fees if it meant she could learn more about the mysterious leader who supposedly had ties to the king.

Asking around, it became clear, the rumors were true. He indeed knew the king and his mysterious sister. Waiting for her moment, one day, it happened. A woman walked into the guild while the leader was there, and Lymsie knew instantly, this was the mysterious sister of the king.

Mana radiated off of her like a flame radiated heat, and her eyes were a sight that sent Lymsie off, her predatory gaze giving her an unnatural and threatening aura. Lymsie watched as the union leader talked with the dragon woman, something that Lymsie had no choice now but to believe was true.

Lymsie couldn’t interrupt, but she now knew her target. She would talk to this woman. Discover the secrets she had hiding that had summoned the demon into this world. She approached the union’s leader warily, approaching the subject as casually as she could; was that the king’s sister? Were the rumors true?

She kept it as light and airy as she could, that this was mere gossip to her. The leader was cagey, unwilling to give up any information of substance, as he rightly pointed out it was none of her business. 

Realizing she had nothing more she could learn from the leader, she watched as the woman left the union and slipped out as well, staying as far as she could from the very obviously dangerous girl while still keeping her in eyesight, she was surprised to see the king’s sister stop to talk excitedly with another woman… or at least, she assumed she was a woman, given she had so little experience with orcs, she wasn’t sure.

She waited until the king’s sister was long gone, and walked up to speak with the orc woman.

The woman (my friend @vacamariposa’s OC! Thanks for letting me borrow her) introduced herself to Lymsie as Vur, and Lymsie suddenly realized that she had heard rumors about an orc working at the castle, something that many of the Golden Kingdom’s inhabitants found relevant for reasons that Lymsie very deliberately didn’t want to know.

As Lymsie tried to play her usual weaselly and evasive probing game, she found that the orc woman happily would gossip about the dragon woman, whose name was apparently Falin, and about any topic that Lymsie asked. Asking about Falin gave her a veritable wave of information, as Vur was apparently friends with the woman, and she got to hear outlandish stories of how the kingdom’s first feast was apparently made with the body of the dragon that Falin had been transformed into.

But what was more interesting to learn wasn’t anything about Falin, but rather came up when Lymsie asked how on earth a woman could have ended merged with a dragon; she learned of another woman she had never heard of before, an elf named Marcille.

Apparently, there was another mage the kingdom had besides the lunatic, and what was most interesting to Lymsie was how the orc gossiped of the elf’s strange obsessions with ancient magic; neuroses that landed dangerously close to her own.

Though Vur didn’t know her nearly as well as Falin, she still was able to tell Lymsie where she could find this mysterious elf, though Lymsie privately wondered if she should have been so willing to divulge these things to her, she thanked Vur and prepared to meet this mysterious Marcille woman.

Which lead to the fated meeting between minds who, by all rumors, would have to agree. Lymsie woke up early in the morning and headed to the castle. Being a half-foot made sneaking in perhaps easier than it had any right to be and definitely was because they assumed anyone who’d have problems with Marcille would be likely to be another elf, but in the end all it took was some minor trespassing on castle grounds.

And, as Lymsie knocked on the door, she was greeted by the surprisingly unassuming face of the mage who had apparently brought the demon to the surface, and introduced herself as a researcher of ancient magic.

“I sincerely apologize for my actions as lord of the dungeon!” were the first words out of Marcille’s mouth, at the same time as Lymsie asked “Are you still pursuing your research?”, answering her question in a way Lymsie truly hadn’t expected.

What do you mean, you’re sorry? You perform feats of magic that I’ve been dreaming of my whole life, and you’re apologizing!? Lymsie couldn’t believe it! And, alternatively, neither could Marcille!

Marcille, flustered in her usual manner, asked how on earth Lymsie could see what she did as a good thing; all the damage the demon caused and all the lives ruined weighed heavy on her mind.

Lymsie responded that Marcille’s mission, the one she had summoned the demon for, was the most noble cause that she could think of, one that she herself pursued; the secrets of immortality.

Marcille responded, no, you don’t understand, immortality is a curse, watching your friends grow old and die around you, you lose all sense of self, she’s seen it happen!

Lymsie scoffs, of course, how expected of an elf to think of how it feels to outlive someone; newsflash, asshole, she doesn’t want to be outlived either. Marcille sputters in confusion and anger and slams the door in Lymsie’s face.

Well. That could have gone better. Lymsie isn’t giving up, she decides, and she’s back the next day, knocking on Marcille’s door, and shoving her foot in the door before Marcille can slam it in her face. Marcille snaps at the half-foot, why can’t you understand that it’s wrong to decide someone else’s lifespan for them!?

Lymsie spits back that it’s awful convenient for her then, that Marcille is doing just that by hiding the research she had worked on from the world! This back and forth goes on for hours, Lymsie getting more and more infuriated by how Marcille doesn’t seem to grasp the potential she abandoned, while Marcille grows more and more conflicted.

Everything Marcille thought she had learned over her journey, flashing before her eyes; the acceptance she had felt she had over death was slipping away, clawed from her tooth and nail by Lymsie’s acerbic arguments.

Marcille began to doubt, really, as they argued, whether or not she really was as over it all as she thought; she knew that her friends said that the secret to a long life was simply eating well, exercising and staying healthy, but her father had done that, and she still vividly recalled how he had withered away in front of her despite his supposed ‘health’. All the health in the world couldn’t erase the simple fact that death was inevitable.

Lymsie could tell her rhetoric was working, she didn’t necessarily understand the intricacies of Marcille’s neuroses, but she could see Marcille faltering, the elf not being one to hide her emotions on her face.

As the arguments continued, Marcille lost much of the acidity in her retorts; part of how she knew that her quest to conquer death was wrong was that the citizens of the Golden Kingdom already had immortality, and they had become miserable and listless over the thousand years the kingdom remained buried.

Lymsie counters that many of the citizens returned to the surface and had resumed their lives, though now aging, clearly they weren’t miserable anymore. Maybe, just maybe, they were miserable because they were trapped in a single place under the watchful eye of a lunatic who took any complaint and punished them severely for speaking out of turn; perhaps that had something to do with it?

Marcille couldn’t deny the sense that Lymsie was making, but ultimately, her friends didn’t want to live forever, they wanted to grow old and die, as much as that frightened Marcille, it wasn’t her right to decide for them that they should live alongside her; she couldn’t use the demon to make versions of them that would stay with her forever, that’s what she had learned.

Well, Lymsie huffed, that’s all fine and good for them, they can die all they want for all she cares. Marcille gasps in offense, but Lymsie presses on; you’re right, you don’t get to decide who lives or who dies or for how long. But why can’t she decide for herself? Why does she just have to accept her lifespan? Can’t there be some middle ground here? 

Marcille feels a little pit in her stomach, realizing that she agrees. She’s terrified of that fact, though, terrified of falling into the habits and allure of the demon; and then Lymsie counters, why do we have to use the demon? Why can’t we research a way to live longer using the magic that already exists? Falin had been saved, hadn’t she?

How come Falin deserves to live and Lymsie’s parents don’t? As Lymsie asks that, Marcille’s heart breaks. She sees the despair on Lymsie’s face and recognizes it intimately. Lymsie explains, finally, a little softer, manipulatively; her parents are old, and she wants to spend as much time as she can with them. It’s not fair that she doesn’t have much longer with them.

As Marcille’s eyes begin to water, Lymsie realizes she might have gone too far, even as her rhetoric clearly worked, she clearly touched something deep inside Marcille she hadn’t known would hit.

Marcille sighs; she says  needs some time to think this over, and shuts the door on Lymsie, who isn’t sure if she’s won or lost this argument, as she realizes she has tears on her face as well.

Marcille spends the night ruminating on everything Lymsie said; she had always thought of the difference between lifespans from the perspective of outliving everyone she knew. She had never thought about what it would feel like to be someone on the other side of the equation; living your life knowing there were things you could never do or see, because there simply wasn’t enough time.

Marcille had always seen the length of her life as a curse, as a burden she had to carry, but seeing someone who saw it as a blessing… she had never encountered that before.

Even with how King Delgal had feared death so much that it had become forbidden in his kingdom under Thistle, she had seen that as simply an obstacle to Falin’s resurrection, background dressing to an adventure and nothing more.

She knew what she had to do.

The next morning, Lymsie shows up at Marcille’s door, and instead of having to force her way in, Marcille opens the door and invites her in. Please, why don’t we have breakfast together, so we can discuss our research together?

Lymsie gasps, she can’t help but reach for Marcille’s hand and shakes it as hard as she can. Oh, thank you thank you thank you, so so so much! She knows they can do it! You were a powerful enough mage to resurrect a woman from only bones, she’s heard!

Marcille is, admittedly disconcerted how much Lymsie apparently knows about her adventure, but that’s not important, she can find that out.

Now, Lymsie and Marcille work together to find a way to equalize and extend lifespans, for the shorter lived races first, but even elves; everyone in the world deserves to have the choice to live as long as they want; healing magic should theoretically be capable of this; if they can bring people back from the dead, there’s no reason that they should just have to accept old age.

In the end, they may or may not succeed, I haven’t decided. But they certainly contribute to the nascent field of what is known as “science”, magic written down for the masses, when previously science was the domain of elves alone, and they test the boundaries of medical magic together.

Lymsie doesn’t get along very well with any of the other members of the main cast; she blames them for how Marcille was almost convinced of the divine right of longer lived races to rule over the shorter lived ones, and while Marcille protests that framing, that’s really what it boils down to, right?

Longer lived races just deserve to live longer, the shorter lived races just have to accept their fate; nobody should try to change those facts, because what if I personally like shitting myself and dying?

… yeah, Lymsie still isn’t a very polite woman. She knows Falin is important to Marcille, and she’ll act civil enough around her as long as the subject of their research never comes up. And the less said about the rest of the group, the better. Their dynamic with Lymsie is… volatile, much like her personality.

As well, the dubious spy work that she did to infiltrate the castle eventually earns her heat from the vizier, Kabru, but it’s not exactly her problem they had prepared for elves and received one angry little half-foot, she says. Kabru is simply incensed that such an egregious gap in their security existed in the first place. What if Lymsie had ill intent?… did Lymsie have ill intent? He still isn’t sure, but it’s Marcille’s choice to work with her at all, not his.

Essentially, Lymsie is my answer to the ending of Dungeon Meshi and the failings I think it has. I don’t hate everything about the ending, I truly think almost every other aspect of it is perfect, even defeating the demon itself. I just resent the framing of how equality between the races is seen as a bad thing; and no, they don’t frame it that way, but that’s what it comes down to, isn’t it?

If a real life ethnic group had a life expectancy a tenth of the upper class, that would be considered the gravest injustice in the world; hell, to a certain extent, life expectancy is a matter of class; the rich can buy their health while the poor suffer and die, when we have the technology for that not to be the case!

I understand that I’m taking fictional worldbuilding entirely too seriously, but I find it fun, so I’m going to do it! This is my podium and you all are my audience to preach politics.

Lymsie’s design is inspired by several characters, though surprisingly not Frodo Baggins, despite appearances. Her hair was inspired by Barbara and Barbie from a manga called Shadows House, as well as a little bit of Rei from Persona. One aspect you may notice is that she has the same white eyes as Marcille, something IIRC no other character has, to symbolize that she sees the world in the same way as Marcille! Her outfit was inspired by the uniform of the magic academy Marcille and Falin went to, but with different sleeves, because I couldn’t figure out how to make them looked swamped on her. Maybe someday I’ll be brave enough to try long sleeves. Her clothes meant to look somewhat baggy on her, like they’re made for a child of a different race, not her size.

A lot of her personality was inspired by a specific song; “Show Me The Way” by Billy Talent; despite the song not necessarily being meant as being about the inescapable inevitability of death and only mentioning it in passing. It also works with her dynamic with Marcille, like, I can see an animatic in my head of it; I’d go into it further, but the post here is already so long that I think I’ll just save it for another time.

[heartthumpnovel]

Heart Thump: The Cursed Prince AU

Part 2

Word Count: 9846 Since the short got about nearly a 100 notes (Holy shit you guys :'D) I kind of have to create the promised follow up. This is gonna be a mini-series I think to help break up the monotony of writing the canon story while still being related. Chapter 7 in canon is still cooking so, have this second part being about Natasha convincing Jason to do the one thing I get asked often.... to touch grass. Part 1 Part 2 (you are here)

cw: Implied past abuse, panic attack

—

The morning light flooded gently into the bedroom window as it reflected on the dust settling in the cluttered bedroom. While it wasn’t a complete mess, it had various garments and sewing supplies scattered throughout with a half-completed lute lay on the desk. Definitely needed some love and care around the place.

During the morning rise as the room brightened up, a figure shifted and moaned in the bounds of pillows that nearly covered every square inch of the bed. A dark and nicely taken care of hand reached out from the mountain of pillows to search the bedside for the goblet of water. Her fingers felt the cold marble of it and attempted to grab it, however she missed the mark on it and shuffled the goblet just far enough to where it tipped on the end and made a loud thunk on the floor. “Gods damn it.” Natasha mumbled, dragging herself out of bed. She pulled off the towel that was holding her hair as she forced herself into consciousness. Her dark curled hair fell onto her shoulders and a bit into her eyes. She huffed and rubbed her eyes, wondering what time it was supposed to be as it felt like she just got back into bed.

She could smell the morning dew and saw that the light had entered her bedroom, if she had to guess it was just after daybreak. Her eyes widened. “Oh! OH-!” She shouted as she ripped the sheets off of her and let the pillows be thrown all around her bed as Natasha leapt out of bed. 

“Craaaap- I was supposed to finish it today before.. Ugh!” Natasha strode to the lute she was in the middle of repairing and sighed as her fingers trailed the wood of the base. 

“Suppose there’s next time...” Natasha mumbled as she stepped away and opened her wardrobe with force. Her arms searched through the closet that could have been deep enough to hold at least one lion. 

“Right, thinkin’ pink today… ” Natasha said to herself as she rushed to put on her normal going out wear which comprised a nice yet reliable blouse with a vest and her nice riding pants, “And just to be on the safe side…” Natasha pulled out her shoulder guard and attached the belt to her chest. Can never be too safe in the wilder woods, even if everyone she’s met there has been friendly. Though the one person who she met out there was a guy who was trapped in a tower by their royally messed up family, she still considered that one friendly face out there. 

With that, Natasha rushed to her dresser and did her best to braid up her hair on short notice. The dressed up Natasha strolled out of her room and paced down the hallway, trying to think of ideas to bring to her meeting with the cursed prince. Originally it was going to be her bringing some delightful music to play, though her lute broke a few moons back unfortunately, and she’d been procrastinating on fixing the thing. 

While he was on her journey down the hall, the servants doing chores gave their greetings to the noble lady as she passed by them, in turn she also greeted them with a warm smile. “Mornin’ Farin!” “Good day, Sanguine!” “How’s that leg treating you Steven? Hope it gets better soon!” Natasha then made it to the main hall where there was a grand staircase leading to the entryway. Just as she was about to jostle down the stairs, she could hear a woman clear her throat. Natasha sighed and turned around to be met with Miss Gurnda, the chef her mother hired ages ago. “Morning Gurnda, do you need anything?” Natasha asked genuinely. “Oh dear Lady Natasha, Sorry for keeping you but, I’ve noticed you’ve not been home during morning breakfast or lunch. Are you eating well?” The older woman asked with concern in her eyes. “Awwhh,” Natasha said, scratching the back of her head, “I’m sorry ma’am… spring is the best to forage for herbs and I’ve been trying to make sure I’ve had enough supplies before summer hits.” 

Natasha then raised an eyebrow, “Wait what’s that basket for?” Natasha asked as she pointed at a basket with a cloth covering something that smelled of roasted garlic and potato. 

The older woman gave a chuckle and moved the cloth a bit to reveal some nicely done potato rolls, still steaming and the scent was mouthwatering. “I know I won’t be able to keep you here,” The chef said as she handed the basket over to Natasha, “But it will be a chilly day in hell if I left my little rosebud to starve out there.” 

Natasha held the basket handle in her arms, feeling her heart flutter and she reached out an arm to hug Gurnda enthusiastically. “Awh thanks Gurnda!” She cheerfully spoke as she held the basket close to her side, “You’re too sweet.” 

Gurnda returned the gesture with a hug of her own before Natasha made her way down the stairs. The old chef could have sworn that Natasha was in a happier mood than usual. Before Gurnda could wave off Natasha, the noble lady turned around from the grand doors and looked up at her, “Oh and could you do me a favor?” Natasha asked, “Don’t tell ma or pa I’m out in the woods again.” The chief raised a suspicious eyebrow before chuckling. “Alright but, you’re going to be the one to tell them my lady.” 

“I’ll tell them when they stop tellin’ me what to do.” Natasha returned with a grin before she pushed the front doors open to leave. Gurnda sighed as she walked off to do her morning duties as she shook her head. 

----

Natasha rushed towards the stables with her basket of delicious goods as she traversed through the front gardens. She passed by the neatly trimmed hedges and blooming marigolds with a spring in her step. Happy to get to see the cursed prince, as if she was young again and was skipping to a playdate with their childhood best friend.  

Sure, it had only been a month, but visiting Jason during her herb runs had become the highlight of Natasha's days. She never imagined finding happiness while harvesting lavender in the allegedly dangerous wildwoods, where only brave souls dared to venture. But the moment she saw the man grumpily yelling at her to leave, call it cliché if one must, it was love at first sight.

In all the tales and rumors about the cursed Atlas prince, none of them ever described that the giant trapped in the woods was handsome and a cute flustered mess. Though the rumor mill is rarely honest and she found it quite sad to hear people still believing that he’s just some Atlas super weapon gone terribly wrong. Instead of seeing a monster reaching out of the tower to eat nearby travelers, she had seen a lonely man who just needed to get outside. Natasha sighed at that prospect as she left the luscious gardens and headed towards the stables to get her horse ready for another trek in the woods. Despite having spoken with Jason multiple times since their first meeting, he seemed disinterested in leaving the small prison tower. While it was understandable that he feared people hunting him down, Natasha couldn't help feeling crestfallen whenever he gazed wistfully towards the outside world.

"Hey Nirvana," Natasha greeted her white and brown spotted steed, who was busy munching on hay, "You ready to go?" The horse responded with a huff before pulling its head out of the hay, swishing its tail indifferently. Natasha brushed her fingers through the horse's mane and secured the basket of delicious dumplings.

“Where the hells do you think you’re going?” a familiar gruff voice spoke up that made Natasha’s shoulder’s jump. Damn it.

Natasha smiled and turned around to see her childhood best friend and coincidentally, the head of the city guard. The knight was already dressed down from head to toe in his steel armor that only lacked his helmet to let his brown curly hair lie low as it allowed him to show his disapproved scowl. “Ohhh heeeyy Axel,” Natasha said, “How’s it going?” “Don’t give me that ya weasel,” Axel spoke with his hands going to his hips, “You’ve literally been ditching sword training all week.” He would not let her off the hook. Natasha sighed as she turned back to her horse to complete tying the basket to the saddle, “You know I really don’t gotta do that, unlike you knights.” She commented with a side eye as she could feel the angry stare Axel was giving her through his bangs. 

“Yeah I guess but, who was the one to ask about getting trained!?” Axel scoffed, he clasped his two hands together and pressed them on his cheek as he pretended to speak with an exaggerated higher pitch and whimsy.

"Oh, Axel, you're so strong and badass! If only I, a child with a silver spoon in my mouth, could swing a sword like you! Could you pwetty pwease teach me your ways so I can defend myself in the big scary woods while I pick pretty flowers?~" “Oh shut up! I don’t talk like that.” Natasha retorted with an eye roll, “Look I’m sorry I’ve not been able to make it, I’ve just been busy with spring.” 

Axel huffed, leaning against the barn wall behind Natasha. "Come on, Nat, what's really going on?" he asked, watching as Natasha tried her best to ignore him. "You love beating up the hay dummies at the training grounds."

Natasha loved Axel like a brother, but he could also be annoying like one too. "I'm practicing a special formation called Nyanabussiness, bloodhound," Natasha said, making the mistake of glancing up at him. That one point of eye contact was enough for Axel to understand what she was hiding.

“You…” Axel said with a mischievous grin, “Youuuu are sneaking out to see someone!” Damn it. The knight burst into laughter with the sounds of his chain-mail clanking. He put a hand on his forehead and tried to regain his composure to speak as Natasha’s cheeks darkened. She sputtered trying to hide what she already pulled out to the open. “It-it’s not like that-” Natasha tried to interject though the knight wasn’t letting up. 

"AHAHAHA- oh gods, this is rich!" Axel exclaimed before patting Natasha's shoulder hard, "Who's the unlucky sod?"

The noble laughed before shoving the knight away playfully, “We’re not courting!” Natasha said, “We’ve just been hanging out at his place since he’s a bit of a hermit.” 

“Oh wow,” Axel said as he scratched his slightly hairy jaw, “The daughter of politicians is going out to see a lowly hermit in the wilder woods… scandalous.” He smirked as he watched Natasha untie the reins off of the stable’s post. “It won't be scandalous if nobody finds out.” Natasha pointed out as she grabbed the saddle of her steed and hopped right onto the horse. Axel just stood there and crossed his arms, he knew better than to stop her. 

"Alright, well, take care, will ya? I ain’t in the mood to come and rescue you," Axel said half-jokingly as Natasha rode the horse out of the stable. She didn't bother to look back and responded with a sarcastic thumbs up as the horse galloped away.

Axel shook his head with a tsk under his breath, hoping that Natasha knew what she was doing.

----

Most people feared the wilder woods for a good reason; it was a dangerous place if one wasn’t careful. While the forest itself seemed perfectly safe at first glance, with beautiful flora growing and the wild life thriving in this ecosystem, it was dense and made for a good hiding spot for bandit camps or rogue magic users. Since it was also the middle point of the Atlas and Solaris kingdom with a rather profitable trade route, many who worked outside the law found this forest to be a haven for their robberies. 

Thankfully Natasha had known a good part of these woods for a while and usually traveled away from the primary routes. Her horse was trained to traverse off of paths and she had steered clear of smoke from campfires. Criminals weren’t the only thing she was cautious of however, she had heard of fae being active in the area and while she had seen none herself; she made a note to avoid rings of mushrooms and marked focus sites. And then there are those who warned of the mysterious giant. That one she chose to ignore. 

Her heart raced as she found the grove that had hidden away the initial path to the clearing with the tower. Natasha didn’t want to risk getting her horse hurt from having to traverse through the underbrush, so she tied Nirvana up to a tree branch. Before she left through the bushes, she untied the basket from the saddle and patted the steed gently on his muzzle. “That’s a good boy…” Natasha whispered as she pulled her hand away, “Yell if there’s trouble you hear me?” The horse huffed in acknowledgement before it leaned it’s neck down to eat the luscious grass growing by the tree’s roots. Natasha turned to the grove and made her way through the prickly bushes and leaves as she protected the goods within the basket. By now she knew her way through the branches and had made a small path for herself after countless visits. She was cautious to not get her clothes torn because she wouldn’t hear the end from her mother. 

Once she pushed aside the final bush, she saw the aging stone brick tower that was settled within the forest clearing. If Natasha wasn’t aware of the context that prison held, it would have been a nice centerpiece for a painting. It wasn’t a watch tower, she had seen similarly designed buildings before. The tower that stood tall in front of her was a prison for those who were banished, thus the maddening monotony of the brickwork was hardly a pleasant subject for a picture.

The noble wondered how in the world Jason held himself together in that place. Natasha wished deep within her heart that he would just let her free him to avoid such a terrible fate. 

Never minding that, she pressed on through the clearing and traversed over the small walking bridge to get to the base of the tower. She cleared her throat and called up to the lone stone balcony to beacon the prince. 

“Rapunzel, Rapanuzel, let down your hair!” Natasha yelled. “How many times are you going to use that joke?!” The voice from up above responded.

“Hey, I still think it’s funny!” Natasha responded as she crossed her arms. She listened closely from below, as she could hear a little clanking and rustling. This time around she pondered if she was going to see him large once more. He had ‘shifted’ for lack of a better word to describe it, twice after their first meeting. However, he hasn’t shifted drastically since then or, she just hadn't noticed. While it pained her a little to not witness the magical phenomenon again, she understood that it wasn’t her choice to make.

Eventually, she spotted those adorable wide hazel eyes peeking over the stone balcony, and those thin piano-like fingers clutching onto the edge. A smile spread across her face as she raised her hand to wave at the prince within the tower.

"Hey, how's it going, big guy?" Natasha called upwards, unsure if Jason had transformed into his taller state, as the distance between them made it hard to tell.

Jason revealed his smooth face and lanky chest, flashing a sweet dimpled smile as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Oh, you know, not doing much out here," Jason replied, "Though I did finally figure out a good balance to make tea from the lavender you graciously gave me." He twiddled his thumbs over the edge of the balcony, contemplating something important. “Uhm, would you kindly join me for a spot of tea?” He asked, loud enough to be heard but quiet because of nervousness. “You want me to climb up there?!” Natasha excitedly asked, fully prepared to make the climb if she had to- but, right after saying that Jason shot down her suggestion. “OH, no no no!” Jason exclaimed as he waved his hands, “I-I wouldn’t want you to accidentally injure yourself from climbing up here and me being.. well, me.” Natasha felt disappointed for a moment, “Awh… then how-" Before she could finish Jason pushed away from the balcony and came back with a tied basket in hand. He smiled in pride as he patted the items covered in the basket. “Keeping safety in mind, I’d thought I would just send your portion just uh, be careful with my tea set will you?” Jason said with sheepish politeness in his speech, “It’s the only one I have.” 

While it was a downer that they would not be meeting face-to-face, she guessed he wasn’t ready for that yet. Natasha brushed off the disappointment with an excited thumbs up and a wink. 

“I’ll treat it as gently as a newborn,” Natasha swore as she raised a hand in oath. With that, Jason gently hung his basket on the rope so graciously given to him from the first time they met. The basket slowly came down and it landed softly between Natasha’s palms as she reached up to it. 

As she untied the basket from the rope, it ascended once more. Natasha wasn't about to let that happen. “Woah, hold on there, your majesty,” Natasha's voice was filled with playful reproach as she tied her own parcel with the rope. Of course, she nabbed one bun before tugging on the rope twice. 

It took a couple of moments of stunned silence when the basket disappeared from Natasha’s sight for Jason to acknowledge what Natasha sent up. This gesture felt just like a gift exchange as they each unraveled the goods within their respective baskets. 

“You made pastries!?” Jason exclaimed as his head popped out of the window, she could tell he was smiling, “Oh gods, you didn’t have to feed me!” 

“Kinda obligated to,” Natasha spoke as she unfolded the blankets that were keeping the teapot warm, “We’re friends now after all.” 

Natasha heard the tower’s bricks crumble a bit from above as she unveiled a surprisingly humble tea set. It was indeed porcelain, though it was plain white and had a single blue rose insignia on the side of the pot itself. Sure it was nice though, she expected a royal first born like Jason to have something more gaudy.

She held it up to examine it further with her curious dim wine eyes before pouring a cup of her own. Smells of the lavender and honey had a very relaxing effect on her senses the moment she poured it. Definitely wasn’t something she should drink this early in the day but, she was gracious for the free drink.

“Dang this really nice,” Natasha said as she held the teacup in her lap, “It’d be great for a bad night’s sleep that’s for sure.” The lack of response from Jason prompted her to look up to see he had gone back into the tower. The first thing she noticed when he did return was his towering form, about as tall as a healthy apple tree, crouched from below the window frame. She had to try extremely hard to hold back laughter when it looked like he had a comically small teacup and plate in his large hands. Despite the sight looking ridiculous, his fingers held it regally as a future king should and rolled his eyes, Wondering what was so funny. 

“Ahem- Apologizes if the tea is a bit sedative,” Jason spoke as he held the tiny cup to his lips, “I’m used to preparing it this way so I can calm down whenever … this happens.” With that he inhaled deeply and despite being farther away, Natasha could see his form shrink immediately with a calmed sigh. With that- Jason took a sip. “Ahh, see? Much better..” He said as he leaned on the side of the balcony to gain a better viewpoint of Natasha. 

“This stuff isn’t going to shrink me too is it?” Natasha asked as she was in mid-sip.

Jason had to hold back laughter to not spill his tea and swallow harshly in order to correct her. He cleared his throat with a few pats to his chest. “Ahem- Heavens no!” Jason explained, “Height altering stuff like that doesn’t exactly work on me, plus even if it did- I wouldn’t think of spiking you with it!”  Jason stirred the tea with a small silver spoon as he shook his head. “It’s just a calming agent,” Jason said, “Frankly it’s not even alchemy and yet, for some reason works the best to help me get back into the right shape.” 

A pit fell within Natasha’s stomach. ‘Right shape’?  Something about the way he was referring to himself wasn’t sitting right with her. Her eyes stared into her cup for a moment in silence, thinking. 

“Uh?” The voice from above spoke in confusion, “Is everything alright Lady Maryrose?”

Natasha suddenly chugged down the lavender tea and set her cup in the basket with a determined look on her face that was barely masked with a sweet smile. “You know, I’ve been thinking,” Natasha said, “I think this tea party would be a lot nicer if we were by a scerne lake, wouldn’t you agree?” By the look of his grimminced face that too was also masked by a grin, his voice seemed to be peaceful but his eyes told a much different story. “I-I mean I suppose it would-” Jason shuddered as he put his own drink down, “Shame really.”

“Why shame though?,” Natasha interjected as she put one hand on her hip and the other pointed her thumb to the woods, “I know a great secluded pond near here that I think you’d like-” “You know I can’t do that!” Jason interrupted, a tinge of sadness prevailed through his firmness, “The cursed prince of the Anderheart family AKA, ME, stays in the tower in order lest he cause the end of the world!”

“Says who? Your dad? I don’t see him around to catch you sneaking out ya know.” Natasha spoke with a grin as she laid a hand on the stone walls, “Even from down here I know you couldn’t hurt a fly if you tried.”

“I-uh, No, I mean-” Jason fumbled as he crossed his arms inward, “What-what if I can’t control myself and accidentally step on you!?” She had the audacity to shrug. “Eh, accidents happen.” “...Natasha.” 

Before the prince could acknowledge Natasha’s rather self destructive behavior, she placed her hand on the wall gently as she looked up at him with eyes that were just as earnest as a kitten. “Wouldn’t it be nice to change scenery once in a while Jason?” Natasha said, “You have your calming agent with you so if you get uncomfortable out here we can deal with it.” She then clasped her hands together with a smile, “I’ll admit, I’d really like to see you up close.” 

Jason's expressions were unreadable as he turned away. Anxieties bubbled within Natasha as she wondered if it was too early to make such a request. She knew he was resolute about staying indoors, yet, as an outsider looking in, it pained her to witness anyone in such misery. This simply wasn’t just. 

“I suppose if one were to think about it…” Jason spoke up, Natasha darted her gaze upward, “It seems like curing my curse isn’t going to be an option, so perhaps I could train myself to stay calm and be basically normal. ” 

Natasha sighed, while that wasn’t exactly the mindset she was hoping for, it was going to be better than nothing. “So are you gonna come out?” Natasha asked. “...Yes.” Jason answered, he turned around whipping his face with his long silk sleeve.

----

“Actually- I might not be too sure about this!” Jason squealed as he was holding onto the rope, his butt having not even left the stone balcony. He sat upon the balustrade with both of his legs dangling. He could already feel the sweat form on his palms as he was gripping on the twine. They’d already been able to get the basket into Natasha’s arms and the last thing they needed to send down was the cowardly prince himself.

While a door would have been the more sane option, these towers weren’t made for prisoners to just up and leave. The only way to enter the tower, or for things to be transported in, was this measly balcony. Sure it wasn’t a problem for his druid friend who could turn into a bird anytime she pleased but, Jason was far from any wild shape master.

“You’re gonna be fine!” Natasha shouted upwards, “Just hold on to the rope and step down against the stone wall real slowly, you don’t want rope burns!” She set the basket down next to the teapot package beside her and outstretched her arms. “I’ll catch ya if you fall,” she said with a wink, “You trust me right?” “Ri-right…” Jason mumbled, he wasn’t sure if he’d developed a fear of heights or if the little Atlas pleaser in the back of his mind was telling him he was making a grave mistake. However, he’d gotten this far, and he didn’t want to get her hopes up for nothing. 

Jason took in a deep breath of the spring air, closed his eyes, slowly pushed himself off the edge and pressed his heels onto the stone wall. If it weren’t too late to turn back now, he’d be scrambling to get back to the safety of his cage. His heart was beating out of his chest and sweat dripped from his forehead as he hopped his way down. He nearly fumbled as for a moment his left foot lost traction, he gripped on tight to the rope with another squeal with his eyes held shut. His scrawny arms had already strained as he held onto dear life. “Get yourself back onto the wall Jason!!” called Natasha, her worry starting to set in, “You’re doing great for your first time!”

“I doubt that…” mumbled Jason as he swung his legs back into position and made another kick down. About two-thirds of the way through, the climb had already felt like hours rather than just mere moments and Jason was putting his full focus into not-- 

“KA-CAWH!” “AH!- aaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!” 

An unfortunate crow decided that moment was the perfect time to swoop down near the eardrums of the prince and scream the song of its people. Good for the bird, not great for Jason as his hands lost grip on the rope. Jason screamed, believing his short and rather pathetic life had ended in an ironic tragedy. 

“Oh sh- I GOT YOU!” Was the last thing Jason heard before he shut his eyes, his world going dark. 

---- 

"AGH! Oh my Gods—Jason, are you alright!?" Natasha exclaimed, her voice filled with concern, as she felt Jason's limp body fall into her arms. "J-Jason!? Anderheart!? Your majesty, are you okay?!" she cried out.

She kept her balance despite the surprise leap as she stumbled from the impact. Her arms instinctively held onto him tight, her heart feeling like it could burst out of her chest with fear. Looking down upon the prince, she could feel him breathing through her hands. Releasing a sigh of relief, Natasha jostled him a little to see if he would wake up. That’s when she noticed a few things about him. Firstly; he was tiny. Not as small as a halfling or a forest elf but, he was definitely short for a grown man and he was as light as a barely filled sack of cabbages. On account of his gangly arms, he definitely wasn’t fit enough to scale the tower. Natasha wasn’t even a classically strong woman herself and yet, she was having no problem holding him.

Secondly; she noticed his pale skin which looked like it hadn't seen direct sunlight in a while, which to be fair, was the truth. Despite this however, it wasn’t pristine as there were a few tattle tale bruises from his collarbone and forehead. It didn’t take a genius to surmise that these were from surprise growth spurts from the claustrophobic walls of the chamber. If it went for the regal clothing and the sparkly dark opal on his circlet, people would believe he was in prison for a decade. 

Lastly… well, he was strikingly handsome. Natasha had to admit when she first saw him, she thought he was pretty cute from far away but, up close it was like the gods blessed this man with the jawline and fae-like daintiness. She’d felt a pang of guilt for teasing him when they first met. Sure, it probably was flirting but, her playful flirting was used to see if she could call a bluff about ‘magical growth powers’ Jason warned about. A groan startled Natasha out of her thoughts, noticing that Jason stirred and his doe-like hazel eyes, that were hidden behind his knocked askew lenses, squinted from the light. 

“Ugh, did I make … it…” Jason murmured, his fingers rising to re-adjust his glasses, before his eyes fully widened as they were met with eyes of near celestial dim wine eyes.

While they were both blushing, Jason’s face turned completely pink and despite being in a trance, Natasha could feel her arms suddenly undertake a mysterious weight. Suddenly, Jason squirmed dramatically and pushed himself out of her comforting embrace. Natasha would have been more disheartened about that if she hadn’t seen his previously frail form lurch in height.

She let the fallen angel go and bore witness to the curse, almost doubling him in size, though he somehow still looked lanky even if he was in the same size class as an earth troll. Natasha was struck with awe, staring at him without saying a word for a moment. While no fear touched Natasha’s heart in the slightest, the feeling wasn’t shared with Jason. 

The, now 7ft, prince’s face flashed with terror as he backed up against the stone walls of the tower. His gaze darted between Natasha and at the stone balcony above as he tried to catch his hyperventilating breath.  “No no no no!” Jason finally spoke up with a distinct stuttering in his voice, “It’s already happening, This was a mistake!” He spun around and attempted to grab the stone bricks with his large frail hands, failing to get anywhere as his palms stung from the rope burn. 

“I-I need to get back inside!” he shouted in panic, not noticing Natasha approached him once again to get his attention. 

“Jason?… Jason…” Natasha’s pleas fell on panic-stricken ears, “Hey, it’s okay!” She huffed when her voice was being tuned out by the prince’s scared ramblings. Her initial approach of treating Jason like a frightened rabbit wasn’t working out, so she took the next step.

His flowing shirt sleeve was jerked down hard enough to where Jason finally shut his mouth in surprise. His own shoulders tensed and he turned his gaze back down. When their eyes met once more, Natasha’s heart fell as his eyes were trembling and nearly welling up in tears.  

Oh, the poor thing.

"And check it out, you’re free!" Natasha reassured, her gesture encompassing the blossoming meadow that surrounded them. A smile graced her lips, beholding the realization dawned upon Jason. He fell into silence, his mouth slightly agape as he contemplated the situation. His eyes left Natasha and his gaze fell upon the lively grove that surrounded the tower. 

Gradually, he moved, stepping away from the tower and crossing a small water stream. Natasha followed close behind him, her grin stretching from ear to ear. She couldn't help but wonder about the sensation of breaking through the constraints that had bound him for so long.

His near-pristine shoes brushed against the fresh grass and the gentle spring breeze lifted his charcoal hair gently. There was a pause in his movement and Jason just stood there, presumably taking it all in. Natasha trotted to catch up with his longer legs and crossed her arms, joining him in admiring how lovely the forest was. 

Warmness filled her heart, seeing the childlike wonder in his eyes from the wilderwood’s kind greeting. The sunlight held the prince’s skin in a motherly embrace and songs were sung by the insect fauna. At that moment, it was as if she was seeing a whole new person.

A tear dripped down his cheek, which was followed by a soft smile. 

“Not bad huh?” Commented Natasha, nearly tearing up herself. “No… not bad at all.” Jason responded. 

----

Truly, words from Jason’s favorite novels could not have described the lovely ambiance of an enchanting forest. Glances through his window had only a fraction of the majesty of a soft breeze and the sounds of thriving life surrounding them. It was beautiful, and with the sun warming their casual stroll, one would assume Jason would have been having the time of his life. 

That couldn’t be farther from the truth. 

In actuality, Jason was in complete inner turmoil whether Natasha knew it or not. It was only just a couple of minutes since they left the view of the tower, but Jason was already being plagued with thoughts of doubt; wondering if he was a bad person for putting the world in jeopardy for a simple picnic, and he was hyper aware of every thought that passed through his mind. He’d already lost control when he fell into the comforting embrace of Natasha when he stupidly let go of the rope. Now he’d be stuck being as tall as a horse, if that horse was on hind legs. 

On the other hand though, it proved useful that he could now carry both baskets easily and keep walking pace with Natasha, who was on her steed. It would only be a minute before they arrived at this pond the noble spoke of, by then Jason could drink the tea and shrink back to normal as planned. 

However, Jason was now finding it much, much harder to control his thoughts as he’d discovered something else detrimental to the picnic plan that he didn’t account for.  

He foolishly fell in love. 

Perhaps it was the rush of being saved by a captivating and free-spirited noblewoman, but when he looked into her mystical eyes, it was as if Cupid's arrow had struck him. Unfortunately, his curse, triggered by a racing heart, wasn't connected to happiness. It was specifically romantic love that caused his growth spurts. While romantic themes in literature or daydreams about being saved by a knight could trigger the curse, he had never actually felt romantic love for another person until now. Jason barely made eye contact with Natasha since they left the tower, though he’d unconsciously risk looking at her as they kept conservation. It might have been the newness of being this close to another human being that wasn’t Ellinor, but he couldn’t help but to take in the details he noticed about Natasha, now that they were side-by-side. For trekking out in the woods as often as she did, her blouse with intricate lace was prim and proper for a lady in a well off household. Even her riding pants were only a bit stained at the bottom from the kicked up dirt. Though despite the initial daintiness her appearance was, she had a steel arm guard on her shoulder and a standard short sword holstered at her hip. Jason remembered her mentioning that she was trained to weld a blade for protection. Thankfully, it didn’t seem like she had to use it very often. What really caught his attention though, was the soft cheeks of her face and lovely eyes. Plus her braided hair was extremely impressive, and she pulled off the look very well. 

“Ahem, Jason?” Natasha spoke up as she caught him blatantly staring at her. Jason looked down, noticing that the basket handles he had looped on his forearms were suddenly tight. The horse needed to have a pat on the head to calm itself when Jason suddenly sprouted another foot and a half. “S-sorry! I’m trying to keep it together the best that I can out here…” He mumbled, swiftly staring down at his now dirted leather shoes, “I’m doing a rather terrible job at it.”

“You’re doing just fine, big guy,” Natasha responded, “You’ve haven’t attempted to flee to that dinky prison more than once.” “That’s not even what I meant…” Jason grumbled, turning his gaze back to Natasha, “Could I ask you something actually?”

“Try me,” Natasha said, looking up at the giant with an eager grin.

“Why are you not terrified right now?” Jason said as matter of factly as asking how someone’s day went, “Everyone else, even Ellinor, gets tense when I transform like this.”  

Natasha jolted a bit when she had to hold back a huge laughing fit, this just confused Jason even more. Before Natasha could give her explanation, Jason leaned down a bit over her in confusion.

“I’m serious!” Jason said, “Just because I’m not prone to violence and raised to be a polite young prince doesn’t make the growth any less strange! How are you calm about all this!?” Upon catching her breath from the laugh she had to hold back, Natasha closed her eyes confidently, petting the back of her steed’s mane. “No offense, but I don’t think you’re capable of hurting anybody,” Natasha said, “Not only that, My best friend is a lycan and trust me, those guys have it much more gruesome compared to your little spurts.”

At first Jason nodded, thinking that was a perfectly reasonable response until… “Wait!? A LYCAN!? You mean a werewolf!?” Spouted Jason, thinking he somehow heard wrong as there was no way a gentlelady like Natasha could be associated with one of the most dangerous beings to roam the Atlas forests. He had never encountered one himself, but he has read stories of mortal men being cursed to turn into fearsome beasts and eat innocent people. Natasha could see Jason’s face run pale, but didn’t let Jason squawk the lies he’s been fed. “Right, I almost forgot you’re Atlan,” Natasha said, “Most of them are nothing like the stories in your books, They’re pretty much sentient as humans are and got instincts of a dog, not a monster.” 

“But-but the attacks..” Jason mumbled. “Either bandits, or newbies who think the only way to fill their hunger is by eating people because that’s what they were told werewolves do.”

“Oh-oh..” Jason didn’t exactly have proof of his own to stand on, and the fact he is a cursed man himself didn’t have the right to assume terrible things about others. “I suppose I trust your judgment more than anyone else’s,” Jason said, “I’m sorry for assuming your friend was a beastly brute…” “Oh no he totally is,” Natasha responded with a laugh, “While he gets on my nerves, he’s been there for me since we were kids.”  “Ah.. I see,” Jason said as he rubbed the back of his neck, “Truly you are not a judgmental person.”

“What’s there to judge?” Natasha said nonchalantly. “Right we’re just about there.” 

After turning the corner, blocked by thorn bushes, Jason let out an audible gasp upon beholding the breathtaking lake. He had encountered depictions of lakes in drawings, but this scene far surpassed his expectations. The sight before him exceeded his imagination; the water sparkled under the midday sun, while life teemed in vibrant abundance all around it.

“Whatcha think?” Natasha asked, dismounting her horse and securing the lead to a nearby branch. Jason had already begun making his way toward the lake, emitting a low whistle. The innate beauty of nature had always drawn the prince, it also served as a distraction from certain matters on his mind. “The water looks nice,” Jason commented as he set the baskets down on the lush grass near the water’s edge, “Didn’t expect a lake filled with this much life to be so clear.”

Natasha was quick to approach his side and playfully elbowed his free arm with a smile. “You wanna go for a dip?” Natasha suggested, though Jason’s eyes darted away from her with embarrassed mumbles. "Actually, I can't swim," Jason admitted candidly. "Life in the tower and all that..." “Oh,” Natasha’s spirit fell a little, though life returned to her eyes when she spun around and raced towards her horse. “That’s alright! Let me get the blanket!” It didn’t take long for the picnic to be set up as they brought little to eat. However humble it was though, it was more than enough for the both of them. After all, the food and drink played second fiddle to the enjoyable company they shared. Jason had to confess that the buns Natasha had brought were not only the spiciest but also the most delectable filled pastries he'd ever tasted. 

The conversation they shared started small, but like meadow flowers, it bloomed beautifully. At one point the both of them were having so much fun, Jason’s height relaxed to a size where he could comfortably sit on the checkered blanket.

“There actually hasn’t been another heir in your kingdom,” Natasha explained as she stirred her spoon in her cup, “From what I heard, the current king is having terrible luck bearing any, so technically you’re still next in line if you wanted the crown.” “Ugh,” Jason groaned, “Even if the people magically want me to be their ruler somehow, I don’t think I’d be cut out for it...” He shifted his arms to hug his knees, taking a break from drinking to not hog all of it himself. “Heh, yeah same honestly.” Natasha answered, though didn’t seem to elaborate on what she meant as she stared off into the lake. This piqued Jason’s curiosity and he looked down at her with a raised eyebrow. 

“Say, you never really talk about who your family is...” Jason mentioned, noticing Natasha suddenly not wanting to make eye contact, “You’re a noble right?” A pit fell into his stomach when she didn’t respond right away with the warm demeanor she’d had up to this point. He lightly tapped on his cup with a finger. “I apologize if that’s a bad subject for you-” Jason tried to cool it over but Natasha interjected with a sigh. “Nah, nah it’s alright,” she said, finally turning her head in his direction, “My parents are good people, it’s just…” She had to think for a moment to find her words, Natasha fiddled with one of the loose strands on her hair. “My family is a part of the governing Circle in Solaris, has been voted in to help rule for generations.” “So you’re basically a princess?” Jason questioned, he wasn’t quite knowledgeable about Solaris politics and had a basic understanding of the democratic process. 

“Definitely not, ” Natasha responded, “The people are the ones who decide who gets to be in the Circle, I’d have to campaign just like anyone else and most of the time have a choice to run.” “But you don’t?” Jason wondered, bending down a little to be eye level with Natasha. “My parents have raised me to be in the Circle just like the generations before me,” Natasha said with anger boiling in her chest, “Hells, if I even mention the thought about doing something else other than government work they throw a HUGE fit!” She crossed her arms, still not wanting to make eye contact. 

“I hate how we honor freedom for all and yet for some reason I’m selfish for wanting to have freedom of choice!?” Natasha ranted, grabbing the sides of her head, “Now that I’m old enough for professional study, they have been insistent to tie me down to study bureaucracy! It’s just so…” “Not fair?” Jason said. “Yeah.” Natasha confirmed. 

In order to comfort her, Jason attempted to reach a hand down and pat her lightly on the shoulder in solidarity. Though as his palm made contact with her vest, his hand roiled and Jason hissed a bit in pain. Natasha jumped a little and spun around to see Jason cringing at the sight of his raw palms.

“You alright!?” Natasha asked in concern, standing up to get a better look at Jason’s hands. “Owww, that smarts…” Jason grumbled as he rubbed the small burn wounds, “My hands are still in pain from the rope incident.” 

“Let me have a peek at them,” Natasha said as she reached her hands over to gently grasp the tips of Jason’s fingers, pulling them close to her. He could feel her soft hands rub against the rough skin on the injury slightly. It caught Jason’s surprise when instead of closely inspecting the wound, she just closed her eyes and started to whisper a single word that he couldn’t quite catch. His hands jolted from surprise when a pleasant glow formed around his palms. The light managed to obscure the burns, though he could feel the rough pain from the warm wounds dissipate instantly. It felt like a pleasant chill upon his hands and just as fast as it appeared, the light faded away to reveal his hands being completely healed. 

Jason looked at Natasha in awe and before he could speak, she already had an answer ready for him. “Dad used to be a cleric,” Natasha explained, “He taught me a few handy cantrips but, I can’t do anything majorly breathtaking.” “But, you are breathtaking...” Natasha raised her head, wondering if she heard him correctly, though she was met with a sight of an incredibly flustered man who just realized that he said a thought that wasn’t meant to be said out loud. This was also the moment where Jason realized not only did he accidentally flirt with her, but he was holding her hands. 

The scandal.

Suddenly, his hands engulfed hers, and the growth spurt triggered his knees to nudge a teacup, toppling it over and threatening to break its porcelain rim. Jason’s heart was beating wildly, and the enlargement kept startling pace with it. He barely had time to scramble away from her as his surroundings became wildly different from before. His surroundings morphed into an entirely different scale, the once-shady trees now surrounded him, the once-vast lake seemed a mere puddle.

Struggling for breath, he crawled back on his hands, retreating toward the clearing's edge, which now wasn't far from the picnic site that had been so peaceful before. Horrified that his shoe was now large enough to topple it all over and it was right beside Natasha, who at this point was standing up with an unreadable shock on her face. "Jason?!" Natasha exclaimed, extending a comforting arm. "Okay, let's take some deep breaths, big guy—" She moved closer, but before she could reach him, he yelped, scaring the birds from their nests in a cacophony of fear.

"DON'T COME CLOSER!" His shout, though unintended, rang out powerfully, the potency of his voice a byproduct of his size. He regretted it instantly, aware of how dangerous his voice had become at this scale. The sight of Natasha covering her ears only intensified his heartache. Closing his eyes tightly, he felt the grass beneath him meld together, the oak branch he'd backed into pressing heavily atop his head. “Yeesh, no need to take out my hearing.” Natasha's voice pierced through, her intent unclear as she ventured closer despite his plea. He struggled to curl up further as he embiggened, knees pulling toward his chest. “I- I'm sorry.” Jason mumbled relatively quietly. The tightness in his chest didn’t alleviate and his fingers had gone numb as he gripped his hands close to his sides, beseeching his own subconscious to regain control. He hadn't been this height since…

Old spear head wounds burned on his gut and ghostly impressions of chains of his past clutched his throat. He could barely recall anything but the pain and the harsh words pitted against him by the very guards sworn to protect the family. 

His body, as quickly as it began expanding, stopped engulfing the grove they were in, however Jason could tell he wasn’t shrinking back to normal. A frightful thought raced through his mind, his stomach churned at the thought of him being stuck as a gigantic beast daring to feel anything other than dismay. 

His mind, clouded and unable to think of anything other than the pain he’d been enduring his whole life, he could hardly hear Natasha’s voice getting closer to him. Though he managed to understand some of her words as he could feel a tiny tug pull on his sleeve. “Your knuckles are going pale,” Natasha’s voice said to him, “Unclench them and breathe hun, you’re safe.” Jason swallowed, and uncurled his fingers as she requested. As he was comforted by her presence, he couldn’t help the guilt boiling up inside himself for putting her in not only an uncomfortable situation, but a dangerous one at that. He tried to speak up, but he couldn’t find the strength to talk through his hyperventilating. Immediately he was soothed by pats on the edge of his forearm which felt as if a swallow decided to perch on his arm. “Come on, deeeep breaths,” Natasha encouraged as she demonstrated herself while speaking, “Nice and sloowwww.” He struggled to find a moment, but when he did, he took a long deep breath of air and shakily released it. Feeling was beginning to return to his body as he could sense the small blades of grass on the ground and the wetness on his cheeks. Despite him re-gaining his senses, he still refused to let himself have his vision back. Deep down he knew that whatever he was going to see, it would probably make him pass out completely. Jason managed to clear his throat and speak with a pathetic whimper in his tone. 

“I-I am so sorry,” Jason said, “Th-this is very unbecoming of me… Hells, I ruined everything didn’t I?” He choked back tears, and tried his best to hold sobs. He heard a quiet chuckle that was paired with an out of place sniff, “Nobody looks dashing crying,” her voice spoke, “And that doesn’t matter… trust me you’ve done nothing wrong.” Jason could sense her presence lean over his wrist, her gentle touch petting the back of his hand just as if someone was tracing their smallest finger tip across it. “Didn’t realize how bad this could get..” Natasha wearily commented as Jason steadied himself. The giant heaved a sigh while his head hung low. “I told you,” Jason spoke, “This is why I have to be locked away…”

“That’s not what I mean.” Natasha sighed as she momentarily retracted the touch Jason yearned for. Before he could ask what she meant by that, he felt the air swish over his wrist and then a tug at his side of his waist. He’d almost forgotten he was curled up against an oak tree for a moment. He felt pressure wobble on top of his stomach, a sensation he’d yet to feel when he was rarely large like this. His ears then caught Natasha’s small voice in front of him, confirming the presence that was now standing on him was her. “Please open your eyes,” Natasha said, “I need you to look at me.” “B-b-but what if I-” Jason stammered. “It’s going to be okay,” Natasha re-affirmed, “I promise.” He froze. Two trains of thought had collided in his mind. On one hand he was worried if he were to see her beautiful face again he’d destroy the entire forest however, Jason’s trust had been handed over to Natasha many times before and if it wasn’t for her, he wouldn’t have had the courage to step outside the prison he thought he could never leave. It may have been naïve of Jason, but ever since they’ve met that fateful day he felt like he her judgment was solid. Especially how annoying she could be with her earnestness. Jason gently let his breath go, not wanting to blow away his passenger off of his chest, and opened his eye lids gingerly. 

He had to adjust his eyes from the afternoon sun shining, though once he managed to blink a couple of times to clear his vision. The scene was just about the same before he closed his eyes; his body took up nearly half of the shore of the lake and the picnic blanket could have easily been mistaken as a handkerchief. However, when his pupils focused on the figure in front of his face and standing just below his lower ribs, he noticed that an adorably small Natasha was staring right at him. Though was she… crying? 

----

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Natasha thought if maybe, just maybe, the prince would find happiness by stepping outside and figuring out that he didn’t need to be miserable for the rest of his life just because he was cursed. Sure, it would probably be rough the first few trips into the woods but what she failed to account for was the situation of him having a full blown panic attack. Self love evidently wasn’t easy to teach. Especially if she didn’t practice much of it herself. 

Guilt riddled her soul when she saw that mortified face and subsequent tears that followed. How could she have not realized that he was going to rehash horrible feelings from growing to a height that he was forbidden to be at? In hindsight, she shouldn’t have been so selfish and taken this entire going outside thing slowly. Her need to see his charming face up close had forced him to confront his issues far before he was ready to. Did she even have the right to trample on his boundaries like that? These thoughts boiled over as her tears betrayed her when she stood face-to-face with Jason. 

“I’m.. so sorry.”

She choked up, staring into those enormous doe eyes. His eyes were slightly red from the tears that were going down his cheeks. The uncertain twitches of his lower eyelids steadied themselves once his pupils managed to dilate upon seeing her. Jason spoke up in a gentle whisper, which at this size sounded more like it was at a speaking level with a rasp in his tone.

“Oh no no no…” Jason said, “You didn’t do anything that heeds an apology.” Natasha clenched her fists, she felt like the giant prince was just being cordial for her sake. She was hoping to hear him say that she forgives her miss-step. Her head shook. “You don’t have to be so undeservedly kind to me,” Natasha said through tears, “I messed up big time and took away your sense of safety from you… Now you’re suffering.” A lavender smelling huff of wind blew through her hair, a moment of disbelief passed before Jason spoke up again, “I’m not suffering- well, not by your hands anyway.” When Natasha didn’t give a response, the large comforting presence continued speaking. “In fact, you gave me something wonderful Natasha,” Jason said with a weary grin as Natasha looked back up at him in confusion, “You gave me a choice.”

“What are you talking about?” Natasha asked, wondering where the hells Jason was going with this. “I chose to come with you to our picnic,” Jason said, whipping his face a tad with a long sleeve, “I’d never have left by myself, I wouldn’t have had the courage to and would have been miserable.” “But aren’t you miserable now!?” Natasha interjected, “If I gave you anything, it was a heart attack!” The collar of her laced blouse was wet with tears, at this point she covered her face in shame. Embarrassment of sobbing in front of him had begun to dog pile onto her mind as well. Why did she have to be so ignorant and get themselves into this horribly awkward situation? Her own mind kept coming up with more cruel things she felt guilty of before..

Natasha suddenly felt something soft press on the side of her head. 

Her eyes opened and the sight made her gasp, if she was seeing this right; A silky blue handkerchief folded gently on a finger tip that could have been mistaken as a small bedside table at first glance. Natasha looked up and saw his eyes pleading with her. “Uhm, “ Jason whimpered, “Thought you could use this..” Not wanting to decline this adorable man’s offer, she took the favor and dabbed her cheeks with a soft smile. “Thanks…” Natasha exasperated, “Look I’m sorry for-” “Natasha.” 

“...Yeah?” “I had an incredible time with you today, Thank you for everything you’ve been doing for me,” Jason said with genuine heart in his voice, “But please, don’t tear yourself down because of my need to process… uhm. This.” He emphasized by looking down at his chest which was about as wide as a king’s bed. Natasha’s silence gave Jason more of a chance to speak his peace. "It's not your duty to ensure I'm not miserable," Jason explained, a chuckle resonating through Natasha's boots. "Your company is more than enough..." The prince's heartfelt words left Natasha momentarily speechless. Even if she didn't believe she deserved mercy, an inexplicable sense of happiness enveloped her. The sweetness of the prince's heart must have expanded along with his body. She wondered why she felt so gosh darn happy. The noble patted down her tears one more time before reaching and wrapping her arms around the finger that gave her the handkerchief, giving it a tight squeeze. 

SNAP

“Owch!” Natasha pulled away from the sound of Jason’s squeal and was met with a slightly bigger hand and the prince rubbing the of his head. There laid an oak branch upon his shoulder that was broken at the stem. A brief, stunned silence passed between them.

"I, um, apologize for that—" Jason began.

“Oh no, I should be the one sorry here- I forgot about..." Natasha's voice trailed off as she too offered her apology.

A moment of pause hung in the air, their eyes locking. And then, they both chuckled. Natasha patted the tip of the finger that Jason had extended to her, a sense of camaraderie bridging the gap between them. After all, what was there to judge?

[mellyssageversee]

Noble Hearts - Chapter 7

ZoSan Royal AU - AO3 Link

Summary: The threat of famine looms over the Kuraigana Kingdom as resources dwindle. Suspicion grips the royal Mihawk family when the prosperous Germa Kingdom offers aid by means of a transactional alliance. As tensions rise, the unforeseen connection between two princes may decide the fate of their kingdoms.

WARNING: Angst, panic attack, and explicit content (explicit content only available on AO3)

Links to previous chapters can be found on My OP Story Masterpost

Tensions had noticeably risen between the Vinsmoke and Mihawk families. Everything was an absolute mess and Sanji could only blame himself.

Reiju seemed to come across a lot colder towards Perona. The usual warmth and smiles she would share with the Kuriagana Princess were replaced by stoic indifference. Sanji suspected that his sister would have avoided Perona entirely if Judge hadn’t insisted that she still keep a close eye on her. It was disheartening for Sanji to see their relationship become strained, especially knowing that it came from Reiju’s protectiveness over him. 

Sanji’s brothers had become more irksome after yesterday’s events. They moved with an extra spring in their step, smirking at him whenever they passed in the halls. Their eyes had that sickening mischievous glint, as if they knew something he didn’t. Sanji could only assume it had something to do with the mysterious duty Judge had assigned for him. The uncertainty of it all, not knowing what they knew, churned his stomach, but Sanji knew better than to react to their childish antics.

There was a noticeable shift in Judge’s mood after negotiations went so terribly. The Germa King was more irritable than ever, his temper flaring at servants over the slightest mistakes. He made one so nervous that the poor man accidentally spilled Judge’s morning coffee onto the King’s lap. Judge retaliated instantly by having the servant dragged away, presumably to the dungeons. 

Judge’s anger was most likely due to the fact that Mihawk seemed keen on avoiding him. If Judge tried to approach, Mihawk would keep their interactions short and curt before wandering off to walk the castle grounds alone. This made Judge anxious that the alliance was on the verge of failing completely.

And then there was Zoro…

When Sanji was permitted to leave the Keep, he was relieved to see the swordsman wandering around the halls. He felt his pulse in his ears at the sight of him. He wanted to run, to collide into Zoro, to feel the warmth of his embrace again, to bury his face in the crook of the swordsman’s neck that smelled so heavenly of earth and steel, but Sanji tamed his longings when he saw pain in the swordsman’s eyes and a haunting look of guilt that Sanji was all too familiar with himself.

Zoro’s hair was unkempt, as if he was constantly running his hands through it in worry. He searched Sanji for any injuries and there was a tremor in his voice when he asked what had happened.

Sanji wanted to answer, but he was fairly certain that Judge had guards trailing him around the castle now. He could feel a cold sensation creep down his neck. A prickle of warning that someone was observing him, keeping track of where he went and what he said.

Fearful of what might happen to Zeff, Sanji reverted to the same cold reservation and politeness he had when he first met Zoro. 

“Nothing happened.” Sanji said simply, his voice carefully controlled.

The answer didn’t seem to calm any of Zoro’s worries. Determination flared in the swordsman’s eyes, his gaze briefly flicking to a corner where Sanji suspected a guard was hiding, listening. 

Zoro understood they were being watched.

Since that time, both princes had tried to find an opportunity to speak in private, but the chance never presented itself.

Today, as they walked side by side, Sanji could feel the frustration radiating off of Zoro, and he couldn’t blame him. He longed to tell him everything: about Judge’s threats and promises, what he had seen in the Keep… but more than that, he wanted to close the crushing distance they instinctively kept between them. It felt as if Zoro was too far and yet so dangerously close.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Zoro asked, pulling Sanji from his deep contemplative thoughts.

Sanji nodded, forcing a smile.

“I’m fine. Really, Judge was just trying to make a point, as usual.” Sanji replied, attempting to sound nonchalant, but his voice came out strained. 

Zoro’s eyes narrowed, looking ahead in annoyance when he saw another guard lurking at the corner.

“Do you at least know what duties you will be assigned?” Zoro asked in a low voice, unsure if his question was safe to discuss in the open.

Sanji paused for a few beats, biting at the inside of his cheek as he debated whether or not it was a safe topic of discussion. Judge had mentioned it to the Mihawk’s during the negotiations, but it wasn’t like Sanji had any more information on the matter than they had.

“I expect he will share that information soon enough.” Sanji replied carefully. His eyes met the guard’s scrutinizing gaze as they passed and Sanji’s mind flicked back to Zeff. Concerned over the danger the old man was in, Sanji quickly added, “Whatever the task may be, I am happy to serve my people.”

Zoro’s lips formed a hard line at the reply, as if he wanted to argue but thought better of it given their company. 

“What if it is something that will prevent us from seeing each other again?” Zoro quietly voiced his fear aloud.

Sanji worried over the same thing. The thought of being separated from Zoro was unbearable, but he was prepared for such a sacrifice to ensure Zeff’s safety. He cast a glance at Zoro, noting the tension in his jaw and the worry etched on his features like his thoughts were causing him agony.

“We’ll find a way.” Sanji lied softly, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He knew better than anyone that Judge saw their bond as a threat. Judge was quick to end anything that might undermine his authority, and this bond with Zoro was no exception. There was no way they would see each other after this, but Sanji couldn’t bear to let Zoro know the truth. The swordsman still foolishly believed there was a way to free Sanji from Judge’s oppressive hold, a hold that had now tightened into an unbearable grip.

“Things are sure to boil over soon.” Sanji lightly mentioned the expression Zeff had used towards them, hoping to ease the swordsman’s mind.

Zoro must have understood the hidden meaning behind Sanji’s words. His expression softened, just a fraction, but the worry still remained in his eyes, a shadow that refused to lift. The swordsman subtly walked closer. 

Their fingers brushed as they walked, a touch that sent a jolt through Sanji’s heart. The simple contact caused his heart to ache with longing.

“If I had wings, I’d fly to Germa everyday just to see you.”

Zoro had stated the ridiculous notion so earnestly that Sanji couldn’t help but smile, despite the stabbing pain in his heart. The sheer sincerity in Zoro’s voice tugged at him, making it harder to face the truth that their bond was soon to be severed. Sanji’s heart beat painfully at the thought. He couldn’t bring himself to tell Zoro that there was no way out of this, that their time together was agonizingly short. He wanted to turn back time to the brief moment of fleeting happiness he felt when Zoro had asked him to go to Kuraigana…

Sanji paused, a sudden thought coming to mind.

“Can I ask one favor from you?” Sanji questioned in a low voice, scanning the hall to ensure they were out of earshot from the guards. 

Zoro’s shoulders tensed, already alert to the urgency of Sanji’s tone.

“Anything.” Zoro replied intently, wholeheartedly devoted to helping Sanji anyway he could.

Sanji’s chest felt tight, the fear of being overheard seeped into his lungs like they were filling with water, making it difficult to breathe, but he needed to get this out.

“No matter what happens, promise me you will take Zeff with you to Kuraigana.” Sanji saw the worry deepen in Zoro’s eyes. “Zeff taught me everything I know. He can help your people…” and he would be safe.

Sanji finished the last thought in his mind. 

At this point, Zoro looked panicked. Sensing something deeper was wrong, Zoro’s gaze searched Sanji for answers.

“Why-“

“Sanji!”

Sanji was so preoccupied with his conversation with Zoro that he didn’t realize they were passing the drawing room, a location Judge often liked to entertain high-profile guests. Judge stood at the door, casting a glare in Zoro’s direction before turning fully to his son. The imposing presence immediately set Sanji on edge. His throat closed as if he were choking, and he briefly feared that Judge had overheard them.

“Sanji,” Judge repeated, his tone icy. “I need you to come and greet our guests.”

A small wave of relief washed over Sanji. If Judge had heard him, he would’ve reacted more severely. 

Zoro, tense and protective, instinctively stepped between them, trying to shield Sanji from whatever Judge wanted, but Sanji knew better than to let Zoro interfere. He couldn’t risk escalating the situation.

Sanji hastily moved forward, casting a pleading glance at Zoro, silently urging him not to provoke Judge.

Zoro reluctantly stepped back, but his body remained coiled with tension, ready to act if necessary. Sanji turned towards Judge, trying to mask his apprehension.

Moving much too slow for his liking, Judge barked orders at Sanji again.

“Come now.” Judge ordered impatiently.

Sanji could hear Zoro stifling a growl at the way Judge addressed him, and secretly, he shared Zoro’s annoyance. Hopefully, he could say hello to whoever it was and then retreat with Zoro. With a deep breath, Sanji glided into the drawing room, Zoro following closely behind.

The room was filled with an overwhelming sweetness, the smell of freshly baked pastries mingling with the scent of polished wood and old books. Sanji’s eyes reluctantly traveled across the room, taking in the elegant yet stifling decor. Heavy drapes framed tall windows that let in just enough light to cast a warm glow over the opulent furniture. Small tables were adorned with meticulously arranged pastries, undoubtedly prepared by Patty, each confection a small masterpiece.

Sanji’s gaze finally landed on the new arrivals. He should’ve guessed it would be the Charlottes. 

Duchess Linlin sat in a large armchair, her massive presence dominating the room. Her wide, maddening grin never failed to send an uneasy shiver down Sanji’s spine. Her eyes always glistened with a mix of amusement and something more sinister, as if she were about to devour him whole.

Next to Linlin, with sandy brown hair covering most of her forehead and cold eyes unmistakable to the prince, was her daughter Pudding. There was a stark contrast between Pudding’s delicate features and her mother’s imposing figure. However, despite her outward beauty, there was a hardness in her gaze whenever she looked at Sanji. She seemed to despise Sanji from their very first meeting, glaring at him as if he had personally done something to offend her. 

Sanji’s eyes gravitated back to Judge who cast him an expectant glare. He swallowed harshly and reluctantly approached Pudding, feeling Judge’s oppressive gaze pressing down on him. 

“Pudding, you look as radiant as always.” Sanji greeted her, mustering a polite smile. He gently took Pudding’s hand in his own, her skin cool to the touch. Bowing low, he pressed a gentle kiss on the back of her hand, a gesture Judge always insisted upon despite Sanji’s discomfort. He always had to greet Pudding this way, and as always, she remained silent, her hand stiff and unyielding, waiting for the chance to pull back.

“Prince Sanji, always a pleasure to see you.” Linlin greeted with a sickeningly sweet voice. Her gaze then shifted past Sanji. “I assume this is King Mihawk’s adopted son?”

Sanji frowned at her tone. He didn’t like the way she addressed Zoro, the snobbish disdain reminding him of the way his brothers looked down on him. Sanji released Pudding’s hand, standing a bit straighter as he glanced back at Zoro.

Zoro stood with a stoic expression, but Sanji could tell the prince was bothered by the way he clenched his jaw. 

“This is Prince Zoro, heir to the Kuraigana throne.” Sanji replied firmly. Zoro may have been adopted into his position, but that didn’t make him any less worthy of his title, and Sanji intended to make that point known to the Dutchess.

Judge’s scowl deepened in displeasure at his son’s sudden boldness, but Sanji stood his ground.

Linlin’s grin widened, her eyes flicking between Sanji and Zoro with a predatory interest. 

“Ah, of course. Prince Zoro…” Dutchess Linlin flashed her wide yellow-toothed smile towards the swordsman. “King Judge was just telling me about you. I trust your stay in Germa has been entertaining?”

Zoro’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he maintained his composure. “It has been enlightening.” he replied evenly.

Linlin gave a harsh knowing laugh at the answer.

“I would imagine so.” Linlin hummed. Her plump fingers reached for an éclair as she spoke, pulling it from the middle of the delicate pile of sweets. 

Sanji watched helplessly as the careless action caused other pastries to tumble to the floor, scattering the treats across the carpet. 

“You were the one who alerted Judge of that unfortunate situation with the hungry villagers.” Linlin continued, her tone dripping with false sweetness.

The Dutchess paused to greedily bite down on the pastry. The grotesque sounds of her chewing rang mockingly in Sanji’s ears. Despite being familiar with Linlin’s ways, her feigned concern and gluttonous behavior still made his stomach churn.

Sanji glanced at Zoro, who remained stoic. He was grateful that the swordsman was willing to hold his tongue, but Sanji could see that it was a great strain for him. Zoro’s knuckles had turned white from the force of his clenched fists. 

Deciding it would be best for him to step in, Sanji cleared his throat and spoke up.

“Ju- I mean, my father assured me that they will receive proper aid.” Sanji said, wincing inwardly as he referred to Judge as his father. The title felt ill-fitting and left a bitter taste in his mouth. 

Judge smiled smugly at Sanji’s resentment, proud of the control he wielded over his son.

“That’s why I’m here, to ease whatever worry your friend here caused poor Mihawk.” Linlin replied. She paused to stuff another pastry into her mouth, crumbs scattering across her lap, before turning her attention back to Zoro. “Really, I should have been invited to the negotiations from the beginning. After all, it’s my resources Germa would be sending to your kingdom.”

Sanji’s eyes flicked to Zoro, noting the subtle twitch in his jaw. He could see the tension building in Zoro’s rigid posture, the swordsman’s eyes narrowing in barely contained anger. Being talked down to, especially in such a condescending manner, was obviously something Zoro despised. 

“By the way, where is Mihawk?” Linlin’s curious gaze shifted to Judge. 

Judge’s expression hardened at the mention of Mihawk.

“Roaming around who knows where.” Judge replied bitterly, casting a disparaging look Zoro’s way, as if blaming him for Mihawk’s absence.

Linlin laughed heartily, like hearing of Mihawk's antics amused her.

“Well, he’ll have to join us at some point if he wants to help his people as eagerly as these young boys here.” Linlin continued to chuckle. Her voice was still laced with false sweetness, void of any real compassion or concern.

Having enough of this condescending interaction, Zoro stepped forward.

“If you’re done speaking to us, Sanji was escorting me around the castle.” Zoro spoke up, his voice slightly wavered with restrained anger. 

Judge’s glare intensified.

“Sanji has been escorting you around all week.” Judge interjected. “I’m sure you are quite familiar with the grounds by now. Pudding here has taken the time to visit. Sanji would agree that it is only right for him to follow through his duties as a good host and show our new guest around.”

Zoro’s stoic expression evaporated, melting into a scathing glare.

Sanji squirmed uneasily, anxiety rising in his chest. He glanced back at Pudding, who watched the exchange with a cold, calculating gaze, her eyes betraying a hint of satisfaction at the unfolding tension. Sanji really didn’t want to escort Pudding around, but his mind flickered back to Zeff once more. He knew he couldn’t disobey Judge’s request… 

“Hush now, Judge. Let them continue about their day.” Linlin intervened, seemingly oblivious to the conflict brewing between Zoro and Judge. “Besides, weren’t you just saying that you had a new project to discuss with my daughter and me?”

Judge grimaced at the way Linlin undermined his authority, but the Duchess paid him no mind. Her attention had already shifted away from the King, her many rings catching the light as she waved a dismissive hand at Sanji and Zoro to shoo them off.

Judge let out a harsh sigh. Rather than push the matter further, he turned his attention back to Sanji, his expression hard and unyielding.

“You are dismissed. But I expect to see you in the great hall for dinner… both of you.” Judge stated, his gaze shifting over to Zoro. “Our families will be dining together tonight.” 

Sanji nodded. Seizing the opportunity to leave, he offered both Judge and Linlin a quick bow before turning to Zoro.

Zoro remained rigid, his eyes locked onto Judge’s with a burning intensity.

In an attempt to bring the swordsman’s focus back, Sanji reached out and took hold of Zoro’s arm, gently but firmly pulling him toward the door. The instant Sanji’s hand touched him, he felt the tension start to leave Zoro’s body, the swordsman’s rigid stance softening just slightly.

As they made their way out of the drawing room, Sanji’s mind raced. The encounter had left him feeling a bit rattled. He led Zoro through the winding corridors of the castle, his hand still gripping the swordsman’s arm as if it were a lifeline. He glanced at Zoro, whose eyes were locked ahead, focused and determined.

Once they were out of earshot, Sanji found his nerve to speak.

“I’m sorry for that.” Sanji whispered, his eyes anxiously scanning the halls for any lurking guards to ensure they were alone. “I didn’t think Linlin would be here.”

Zoro took a deep, calming breath, his eyes narrowing as he processed the encounter.

“That woman is a gluttonous uncaring witch.” Zoro seethed. The swordsman took another deep breath in an obvious attempt to calm his anger. A sudden flicker flashed across his eyes in realization. His gaze darted back to Sanji, eyebrows furrowed as if he were remembering something. “You didn’t tell me Judge agreed to help the villagers.”

Sanji fearfully looked around once more, afraid they’d be overheard. Although sunlight seeped into the windowed halls, it cast long shadows that made him feel uneasy, as if something lurked within, ready to expose him at any moment.

“Yes, we made the deal yesterday.” Sanji replied quietly, barely above a whisper. A cold knot of dread tightened in his stomach, warning him not to say anymore.

Zoro’s jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck tensing visibly.

“What did you agree to do?” 

Sanji remained silent, unable to meet Zoro’s eyes. He didn’t even have an answer to the question. He didn’t know what he had agreed to do, only that by following orders, Zeff would remain unharmed. The fear of what Judge might demand gnawed at him. It was an ever-present terror that made his skin crawl and his heart pound against his ribcage. Each beat thudding so hard it felt as though it would tear its way through his chest at any moment.

Zoro could see the hesitation within Sanji, and it seemed to cause him pain. The hard lines that had formed in anger softened slightly, betraying the sadness he tried to hide.

“He is using this entire situation to strengthen his hold on you.” Zoro observed, his voice a low, dangerous growl.

Unshed tears burned Sanji’s eyes, his throat thick with emotion. It was frustrating to feel so helpless, to feel stuck in a situation he had no way out of. The walls of the corridor seemed to close in on him, the shadows lengthening and darkening, trapping him in their suffocating grip.

“What choice do I have?” Sanji said, squaring his shoulders in a feeble attempt to keep some strength and dignity despite his voice breaking. “If I don’t follow orders, people get hurt.” Like my mother…

Zoro’s face was momentarily clouded by confusion, then the pieces seemed to fall into place.

“... Zeff?”

The sound of approaching footsteps met Sanji’s ears. He felt his entire body tense like a tight coil. His breathing became shallow and rapid, panic flooding his lungs like water, leaving him almost gasping. The walls seemed to press in on him, and the shadows danced menacingly. His vision blurred, and a roaring sound filled his ears, drowning out Zoro’s words.

He couldn’t see anything clearly. He couldn’t hear. He couldn’t trust his senses. The world spun around him, and his chest tightened painfully. He was barely aware that Zoro was grabbing onto his arms, trying to calm him. The touch was meant to ground him, but it only added to the overwhelming sensation of being trapped.

Sanji had no fight left in him, no strength to confront the reality of his situation. His own panic gripped him mercilessly, and he felt as if he were drowning in his own fear. The logical part of his mind shut down, and he did the only thing that made sense in that moment.

Sanji ran.

He tore away from Zoro’s grasp, his legs propelling him down the corridor. He needed to escape, to find a place where he could breathe, where the shadows couldn’t reach him. His footsteps echoed loudly against the stone floors, matching the frantic rhythm of his heart. He didn’t know where he was going, only that he had to get away.

——————————————————————

It had taken Sanji until dinner time to compose himself. He had spent those intervening hours holed up in his bedroom, pacing back and forth. Each step was an attempt to untangle the chaotic thoughts swirling in his mind. Part of him felt guilty for abandoning Zoro, but running away had been the only solution that came to his mind at the time, a desperate bid for a moment of clarity.

Sanji arrived early for dinner, the grand hall already filled with the clinking of silverware and low murmurs of conversation. The opulent room was adorned with chandeliers casting a warm, golden glow, but the light did little to soothe the knot of anxiety in his stomach. Judge, Linlin, and Pudding were already present.

As he made his way to a seat far from the Charlottes, Judge's stern voice stopped him. 

"Sanji, sit here." Judge ordered, pointing to the seat next to Pudding.

Pudding’s cold eyes rose to meet Sanji’s.  Her gaze was icy, devoid of any warmth or friendliness. That was when Sanji felt a certain sense of dread in the pit of his stomach. Something in the back of his mind told him that this wouldn’t be a pleasant meal. Reluctantly, Sanji took his seat beside her.

Just as Sanji sat down, Mihawk and Zoro arrived. Zoro’s eyebrows furrowed in disappointment when he realized there was no open seat next to Sanji. Still, the swordsman took a seat directly across from Sanji, his eyes never leaving him.

The rest of Sanji’s siblings soon joined, followed a few minutes later by Perona, who was slightly out of breath and cheeks flushed as if she had run a great distance. She apologized for her tardiness and took a seat next to her family.

The first course was served.

Although it was a beautifully lavish spread, Sanji paid no mind to it. His focus was zeroed in on the daunting silence between him and Zoro. Both princes cast glances at each other every so often, their eyes meeting briefly before darting away.

The parents carried most of the conversation, their voices a distant hum as Sanji’s thoughts continued to be clouded with worry. He couldn’t even concentrate on the food he ate, each bite feeling like a chore. The rich flavors and delicate textures that usually delighted him were now tasteless, swallowed in a mechanical manner as his mind raced. He tried to focus on the conversation, on the food, on anything that might distract him from his oppressive thoughts, but no matter how hard he tried, his mind kept drifting back to Zeff. The thought of his mentor, the man who had been a father to him, weighed heavily on his heart. His only moments of reprieve were when he let his mind drift to the swordsman before him and the fleeting moments of connection they shared.

Pudding was as quiet as ever. When the second course arrived, Perona tried to kindly engage Pudding in a conversation. 

“Reiju has told me that you are a talented enchantress.” Perona offered with a smile. “I have been honing my own skills in the magical arts, but I have not been studying nearly as long as you have. What sort of enchantments do you specialize in?”

Pudding cast an annoyed sideways glance towards her mother. Linlin, noticing the hesitation, silently prompted Pudding to answer by gently nodding her head, her many rings catching the light and glinting ominously.

“Animals.” Pudding answered curtly, her tone devoid of any warmth or interest. 

Perona, undeterred by the brief response, waited for Pudding to elaborate. When she didn’t, Perona probed further.

“Can you speak to them or control them?” Perona asked, leaning forward with genuine curiosity.

Pudding raised her glass to her lips and drank deeply, attempting to hide the fact that she was rolling her eyes at the question. The soft tinkle of silverware accompanied her motion as she set the glass down with deliberate care.

“Yes.” Pudding answered curtly again, dismissive.

Perona grimaced at the off-putting way Pudding tried to avoid conversing with her. The enthusiasm in her eyes dimmed slightly, and she didn’t try speaking to Pudding any further.

Although Mihawk and Zoro continued to keep their stoic masks in place, Sanji noticed the subtle ways they expressed their disapproval of Pudding. Mihawk’s brow twitched slightly, a rare sign of irritation, and Zoro’s jaw clenched, the muscle working beneath his skin.

Sanji hoped to escape this unpleasant affair before the third course. When the servants came to collect the plates, Sanji seized his chance to leave.

“If you’ll all excuse me. I think I’ll retire early.” Sanji rose from his seat. Zoro’s stoic face looked hopeful at this, a subtle lift of his eyebrows indicating his readiness to follow. The green-haired prince made a move as if he was about to leave himself, but Judge’s authoritative voice overpowered Sanji’s attempt at escape.

“Sit down. There are still important matters to discuss.”

Sanji’s brothers snickered amongst themselves at his chastisement, their mocking laughter a humiliating chorus. Sanji silently sank back into his seat, wishing the floor would swallow him whole.

“Is this the ‘happy news’ we’ve been waiting to hear?” Niji whispered in an almost taunting manner to Ichiji and Yonji, prompting Sanji to arch his brow. He turned his gaze to Reiju, who was staring down at her hands, expressionless, as if she were distancing herself from the unfolding drama. 

They all knew something that Sanji didn’t.

“Finally something for your family to celebrate.” Linlin chuckled with her wide predatory grin turning on Sanji.

Sanji turned his attention back to Judge. His heart beating erratically in his chest. Surely they must be talking about the alliance with Kuraigana? Had an agreement finally been reached?

Judge’s expression was one of triumph as he stood to make his announcement.

“It is good to have guests here to join in the celebration. I am proud to announce the engagement of Lady Pudding and Prince Sanji.”

Sanji’s eyes widened in shock, his mind struggling to process the words. He felt as though his body had fallen into a lake of ice, the cold shock of the announcement freezing him in place as Judge continued to speak. 

“This joining of the Vinsmoke and Charlotte families will be greatly beneficial to our kingdoms. Not only will their marriage bring our families closer, it will also bring more resources to citizens who have sadly been overlooked during these dark times.”

Sanji caught the hidden implications behind Judge’s words, the gravity of the situation sinking in. This wasn’t just about him; it was about Zeff and the villagers. Panic settled into his chest. His brain tried to think of what to say. Of how he could object. 

Judge, seeming to sense his son’s reluctance to embrace the news, pressed on, “As Duchess Linlin mentioned, this is something to celebrate. Too long have we mourned the loss of our dear Queen Sora. Now we have a joyous wedding to look forward to.”

Sanji gritted his teeth. Of course, Judge had to bring his mother into this, using her memory to manipulate him. His guilt whispered for him to comply for the good of his people, twisting the knife further.

Looking over at Pudding, Sanji saw the flash of detestation in her eyes. She was just as trapped in this situation as he was. Perhaps they were perfectly matched in their bound sense of duty to obey their families, each a pawn in a larger game.

Sanji gently took Pudding’s hand into his own, raising it to his lips as he always did. The motion felt mechanical, devoid of feeling. Wordlessly and emotionlessly, he pressed a kiss onto her hand. Pudding gave him a reluctant smile before pulling her hand back. 

The exchange was hollow, a public display devoid of genuine emotion.

As Pudding’s hand slipped from his grasp, Sanji finally looked up across the table. He was shocked to find Zoro, as stoic as ever, staring at him. The intensity of Zoro’s gaze bore into him, and Sanji saw the glistening of unshed tears in the swordsman’s eyes.

Dinner continued very awkwardly. Mihawk had barely engaged in conversation before, but by the end, he showed no interest in engaging at all. His golden eyes would briefly glance over to Zoro with a solemn expression.

At the insistence of his father, Sanji found himself escorting Pudding to her chambers. The silence between them was awkward. Sanji had never been more uncomfortable in his life. He cleared his throat and glanced over at her, searching for something to break the tension.

“So… here we are.” Sanji offered Pudding a small smile, trying to infuse some warmth into the moment. Pudding glanced at him with cold, disinterested eyes. His mouth suddenly felt dry, and he awkwardly cleared his throat again. “Have I mentioned how beautiful you look tonight?”

Pudding grimaced at the compliment, her expression hardening. 

“You don’t have to try so hard.” Pudding chastised. “You don’t want to marry me any more than I want to marry you.”

Sanji blinked in surprise at Pudding’s blunt honesty. Her words cut through the forced civility, exposing the truth beneath their engagement.

“Then why are we even doing this?” Sanji couldn’t help but ask. “Why arrange this at the last minute?”

Pudding cast him an incredulous look, as if he were the most naive person she had ever met.

“Don’t you know?” Pudding asked in genuine surprise. “Our parents made this arrangement ages ago. My mother wants more of a connection to the throne. You didn’t think that all these years of our services were offered from the goodness of our hearts, did you?”

Sanji often wondered what Judge had offered Duchess Linlin in exchange for her services. It seemed ridiculous that he didn’t know about the arranged marriage until now. Still, Sanji tried to find a connection with Pudding, to make the best of the situation.

“And of all my brothers, you chose me?” Sanji asked with a shy smile.

Pudding rolled her eyes.

“I didn’t have a choice in the matter. Mother was trying to arrange a union between me and Prince Ichiji, for obvious reasons.” Pudding’s reply referred to becoming Queen once Ichiji was crowned, “but your father was only willing to offer you.”

Sanji’s heart sank at her words. To know he wasn’t Pudding’s first choice stung more than it should have. He had always felt like the outsider of the family, and now he knew that even in this marriage, he was the lesser option. Despite this, Sanji forced himself to remain composed. 

“I understand this must be difficult for you, but perhaps if we got to know each other a bit better we can make this work?” Sanji offered, burying his sadness deep within. “Just because we are appeasing our families doesn’t mean we can’t become friends or grow to love each other.”

Pudding snorted at that.

“You’ll know plenty more about me after the wedding, along with what our joint role will be to Germa, but I don’t expect us to become close through this.” Pudding informed, gesturing between them with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Our union is merely a title. I will continue to live my life as I please and you can live yours as your father sees fit. We will sleep in separate rooms up until they expect an heir from us. That is all this marriage will be.”

Sanji blinked back the tears that burned his eyes. That was what his future held for him: a loveless marriage built on hollow vows. He would be bound to a woman who had no interest in knowing him, never experiencing the warmth of genuine love from his spouse.

“If that is what you wish.” Sanji replied in a wavering tone, struggling to keep his composure.

Finally appeased, Pudding gave a triumphant smirk, a cruel twist of satisfaction that only deepened Sanji’s despair. She then stopped when they reached the door to Sanji’s room.

“I can walk the rest of the way alone.” Pudding informed Sanji. “I have a busy day in the Keep tomorrow and I’d prefer some more time to myself.”

She strode away, her heels clicking on the stone floors, the sound echoing through the cold, empty corridor. Sanji remained standing next to his door, watching her retreating figure, feeling numb as the realization of his predicament slowly sank in.

After a long moment, Sanji turned the handle and entered his room. In the safety of his chambers, Sanji hurled his cape across the room, the fabric fluttering to the floor in a heap. He raked his fingers through his hair as his mind raced. He was to marry Pudding without having any say in the matter. It was very much like Judge to just spring these things onto Sanji, uncaring of his own thoughts in the matter. 

Sanji crossed the room, each step feeling heavier than the last, causing him to fall to his knees before he could even reach the bed. He curled into himself on the cold floor, hoping it would ease the knots twisting painfully in the pit of his stomach. 

Sanji’s gaze drifted to the window, where the night sky offered no comfort. The stars seemed distant, indifferent to his sorrow. He buried his face in his hands as tears finally spilled forth.

Perhaps this is what he deserved. Perhaps Sanji was fated to be miserable for causing his mother’s early death, for always putting his loved ones in danger, like Zeff. Guilt gnawed at him, whispering that he was unworthy of happiness, of love.

As dark thoughts swirled around in his head, Sanji’s mind wandered back to Zoro. What was that look on his face during the announcement? Surprise? Disappointment? Sorrow? Not knowing how Zoro felt added another layer of pain to the whole situation. Yet thinking of Zoro calmed him, providing a welcomed distraction. 

Sanji closed his eyes, willing his breaths to even out, trying to find a semblance of peace. He knew it was foolish to wish for Zoro to have strong feelings about the engagement, but Sanji couldn’t help it. He couldn’t help but cling to the thought of Zoro, wishing that somehow, some way, things could be different.

————————————

“Zoro… are you going to be alright?” 

Zoro sat with his family in one of the guest rooms, staring unseeingly into space. Since the announcement, the world seemed to shift, colors dimmed, and everything blurred. Perona’s voice barely registered.

Lifting his gaze to her, he saw the concern etched across her face. Although he knew her question was about his feelings over Sanji’s engagement, he couldn’t let himself think about it. If he did, any restraint he had left would surely crumble, breaking him into a thousand pieces.

“Did you get to talk to the old man?” Zoro asked, avoiding her question.

The worry didn’t leave her eyes, but she nodded.

“Yeah. I did.” Perona offered her brother a weak smile. “He freaked out when my projection phased through his wall, but he got the message.”

“Good.” Zoro replied curtly. “Did he listen to you?”

“It took some convincing, but you were right. Once I mentioned Sanji, he was willing to comply.” Perona replied.

After his earlier conversation with Sanji, Zoro realized that Judge must have been threatening to harm Zeff in some way. To keep the old man safe and to honor his promise to Sanji, Zoro sought his family’s help. He was grateful that Perona was willing to use her powers to send a warning to Zeff. Now the old man could lay low until they could take him to Kuraigana.

“He was a bit stubborn.” Perona continued. “Zeff said he would only leave with us if we can ensure that Sanji will be safe.”

Zoro’s heart twisted painfully in his chest. 

“I’m working on that.” Zoro answered, his voice feeling strained.

A familiar hand rested on his shoulder. The weight of it was usually reassuring, but now it just felt like it was pressing down on the ache of his heart.

“I’m proud of the efforts you’ve made so far.” Mihawk tried encouraging his son. 

Zoro’s eyes flicked up to meet his father’s. Mihawk’s expression was stoic, yet there was a rare softness in his gaze. Normally, Zoro would instantly find solace in such a look, but now he only continued to feel numb. He could see the pity in his father’s eyes, and that only made him feel worse.

On top of everything, Zoro’s mind kept replaying the same memory on an endless loop: Sanji tenderly lifting Pudding’s hand to his willing lips. The gesture was so gentle, so sweet, that Zoro couldn’t help but fear that Sanji really cared for Pudding. 

When did Sanji even propose? 

Was Zoro foolish in thinking that Sanji actually cared for him?

The room felt suddenly suffocating. The walls seemed to close in, and the weight of his emotions threatened to crush him. Zoro couldn’t stay here any longer, couldn’t bear the well-meaning concern on Perona’s face or the unspoken empathy in Mihawk’s eyes.

“I’m going to bed.” Zoro muttered, his voice barely audible. He stood abruptly, not waiting for a response, and made his way out the door.

—————————————-

Sanji lost track of how long he lay there on the hard, unforgiving ground, the chill seeping into his bones. The room seemed to close in around him, suffocating him. He couldn’t stay here. He needed to breathe, to find some semblance of peace.

With a deep, shuddering breath, Sanji uncurled from the floor and forced himself to stand. He wiped the tears from his face, resolved to face whatever came next with as much strength as he could muster. He left his room, stepping into the dimly lit corridor.

The windows in the hall had been left open, and Sanji welcomed the cool night air that swept through, salty from the sea breeze. It was a balm to his frayed nerves, easing the tension in his body. The castle was surprisingly still and quiet. He didn’t even feel the looming presence of being followed, as the usual guards most likely assumed Sanji to stay in his room for the remainder of the night. He was completely alone… for a moment.

Sanji stilled, sensing a familiar presence. It was like feeling the distant rumble of a storm on the horizon. He glanced up, his heart skipping a beat as his eyes met Zoro’s.

Seeing that damn Moss Head’s face instantly calmed him. His soul felt quiet and he was no longer swarmed by that suffocating panic.

“What are you doing out this late? Get lost trying to find your way without me?” Sanji teased Zoro, attempting to bring some of that same levity they shared over the past few days. 

Zoro managed a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.. There was hardly any light in those eyes and Sanji knew something must be wrong.

“I just needed to clear my head.” Zoro replied, his voice unusually subdued. He leaned against the nearest windowsill, gazing out at the ocean. After a moment of hesitation, he turned back to Sanji. “What about you? Out late celebrating with your fiancée?”

Sanji’s heart ached at the question. Wincing at the reminder. 

Fiancé. Pudding was his fiancé.

Sanji leaned against the wall opposite Zoro, letting his head fall back against the cool stone. His eyes stayed on Zoro, who was now leaning against the windowsill. The moonlight cast a soft glow on his features, making the usually stoic swordsman look almost ethereal.

“I couldn’t sleep.” Sanji answered simply.

“I’m sure you’ll have a lot of sleepless nights coming with the honeymoon.” Zoro said bitterly, averting his gaze.

“Wonderful! I can’t wait…” Sanji’s answer came out much more sarcastic than he inteded. He meant to sound more genuine, but it could not be helped. He was tired of pretending, tired of the facade he had to keep up.

Zoro eyed him curiously, not expecting Sanji to answer the way he did. There was a flicker of something in Zoro’s eyes… concern, confusion, maybe even hope?

“You don’t sound as excited as a newly engaged man should.” Zoro noted. The swordsman almost looked hesitant when he asked, “Exactly how long have you been courting her?”

Sanji fixed his eyes on the stone ceiling, instinctively hesitant to share what he knew. But a realization dawned upon him: there were no guards around. He could speak freely, if only for a moment.

“I haven’t,” Sanji answered truthfully, relieved to speak openly. “I didn’t even propose.”

Zoro stood straighter at this, a look of surprise and anger crossing his face.

“During dinner, were you also just learning about this?” 

Sanji bit his lip. Did Zoro actually think he would become as close as he did to the swordsman if he was already engaged to another? Then again, they had never truly expressed how they felt. 

Sanji’s throat suddenly felt too thick to speak, so he nodded in response, refusing to meet Zoro’s gaze.

“Do you love her?” Zoro asked, his voice barely above a whisper, as if dreading the answer.

Sanji closed his eyes. Hearing Zoro ask about his sentiments towards Pudding seemed to hurt more. He forced himself to meet Zoro’s eyes. They were filled with a mix of anger, hurt, and something else… something Sanji couldn’t quite place. 

“Our union is merely a title.” Pudding’s bitter words echoed in Sanji’s mind.

“It’s for the good of Germa.” Sanji stated, effectively dodging the question. It was better to not say how he felt.

Zoro didn’t seem happy with the answer. His jaw tightened, and his eyes flashed with frustration.

“How exactly is marrying Pudding good for Germa?” Zoro prodded more.

Sanji let out a heavy sigh. 

“You were there. Judge says our union will bring more resources to our citizens.” Sanji replied. “That would include the village we helped.”

“And you’re ok with being used in such a way?” 

Sanji inhaled sharply through his teeth, wincing as if Zoro’s words bruised him.

“As a royal, I’ve always known I’d marry for the good of my people, and I don’t care for you trying to make me feel ashamed of that fact.” Sanji snapped defensively.

Zoro’s gaze bore into Sanji, as if he could see right through his facade.

“There is nothing to be ashamed of so long as you love her.” Zoro answered sternly.

“Love isn’t something that just happens for another.” Sanji lied. It was better to lie to Zoro. To lie to himself, because if he were to admit how easy it was to fall in love with the swordsman, then he would break. “We have some power over who we choose to love. That’s how my parents’ relationship worked.”

“I disagree.” Zoro stepped towards Sanji, his voice low and intense. “I may not remember my own parents much, but I remember they were deeply in love.”

“Well, I don’t have the luxury of having a choice in the matter.” Sanji stepped away from Zoro, turning his back to the other prince in an attempt to hide the tears that blurred his vision. Tears that threatened to spill out. “I don’t expect you to understand. You weren’t born into your crown. Every decision I make affects everyone around me. With four other siblings, I not only have to prove my own worth for my title, I have to prove that I am worthy enough to just be alive! If I don’t sacrifice myself for my family, for my kingdom, the way my mother did for me, then she died for nothing!”

Zoro’s firm hand grabbed onto Sanji’s shoulder, forcefully turning him to face Zoro. The swordsman’s expression was pained, eyes burning with intensity.

“You think your mother died just to have you resign yourself to a life of unhappiness?” Zoro asked incredulously.

Sanji couldn’t answer. He had laid bare his deepest fears and insecurities, and now he felt exposed. Part of him wanted to scream, to cry, to lash out at Zoro for his question. Instead, Sanji took a shuddering breath, trying to steady himself.

“I know what it feels like to lose someone you love. To feel as if you’re left behind, or like your life has been severed in half.” Zoro softened his grip, letting his hands slide down Sanji’s arm to hold his hands. The gesture sent shivers down Sanji’s spine. “You’re right. I was not born with royal blood in my veins. That doesn’t mean I don’t understand the sacrifices a royal must make for the good of their people.” 

Zoro stepped closer to Sanji. He was so close Sanji could practically feel the warmth radiating off his body, keeping the chill of the night air at bay. 

“But being a servant to your people doesn’t mean you should sacrifice your own well-being.” Zoro continued, caressing Sanji’s hands in small circular motions with his thumbs. “Your mother wanted you to live, to be happy. If she saw you now, do you think she’d want you to suffer like this?”

The fierce emotion in Zoro’s eyes made Sanji’s heart ache even more. 

“What would you have me do?” Sanji asked, his voice cracking as he tried to keep his resolve. “If I don’t go through with this marriage, my people will suffer. Zeff could be in danger. I don’t know if I can live with that.”

“We’ll protect Zeff.” Zoro insisted. “Perona has already reached out to him.”

Sanji stilled, trying to process what Zoro just said.

“What?”

Zoro’s gaze softened.

“I promised I would do anything you asked. He is in hiding for now.” Zoro reminded Sanji. “But he is just as concerned about you as you are for him.”

Sanji’s heart pounded in his chest. The sincerity in Zoro’s words, the determination in his eyes, made it hard to breathe. For a moment, Sanji allowed himself to hope. To believe that maybe, just maybe, there was a way to safely get out of this nightmare.

“What about the villagers?” Sanji reminded Zoro, stuffing the fleeting feeling of hope down. “Zeff is safe for now, but that doesn’t solve everything.”

“Then we fight.” Zoro’s voice was firm, resolute. “We stand strong together. I won’t let you face this alone.”

“You can’t help! You don’t understand the kind of power Judge has. I can’t just walk away from this.” Sanji let out a frustrated growl. “An arranged marriage is the least he can do. Arranged marriages are common for royals. As someone in line for the throne, you should know this! Do you think Mihawk would let you marry some random person to rule beside you?!”

Zoro leaned in closer, lifting a hand to gently brush his fingers along Sanji’s cheek. The touch felt electric, and Sanji had to fight the urge to lean into it.

“I wouldn’t settle for just anyone .” Zoro answered in a voice soft but resolute, “My choice of partner would embody justice and kindness toward our people. They must understand the burden of responsibility. Their strength must match my own, ensuring the safety and security of our kingdom. They should be someone who knows what it means to sacrifice, someone who loves deeply and fiercely, who is willing to stand up for what is right, and cares for the well-being of others. My partner will not only be a suitable match for our kingdom but also deserving of my love.”

Sanji choked back tears. In that moment, he knew that Zoro was speaking about him. The confession was too much for him to bear; it had cleaved his heart wide open. The pull was too strong. Too pure. Too powerful. 

In a moment of impulse, Sanji closed the distance between them. Throwing away all restraint to embrace the swordsman before him, kissing Zoro. 

Zoro stilled, shocked by the contact. The reaction made Sanji panic. It made him remember his place, made him remember he was betrothed to someone else. Sanji pulled back as if Zoro’s lips had scalded him, but he didn’t get far.

Zoro reacted strongly, letting out a tortured gasp, wrapping his arms around Sanji, and pulling him into a passionate kiss. A proper kiss. Suddenly, Sanji forgot about everything. His duties, his engagement. All of that melted away and this was all that existed. Zoro holding him. Zoro’s hot breath mingling with his own. Zoro…

“Sanji…” Zoro whispered against his lips. The low timbre of Zoro’s voice uttering his name sent a shiver down his spine. Sanji instinctively pressed his chest against Zoro’s, desperately hoping to draw his name from those lips once more. “You don’t know how badly I’ve wanted to do that all week.” 

Zoro’s statement evoked a pleasant pang in Sanji, and he could only give a breathless laugh as a reply, for he felt the same. How many times this week had he been haunted by his longing?

Sanji wove his fingers into Zoro’s hair, and brought their mouths together once more. He clung to Zoro, hands fisting into his hair, into the fabric of Zoro’s coat, desperate for contact. Their kiss quickly became more heated as every ounce of repressed feelings came pouring out. 

Zoro’s lips were demanding, yet tender, conveying all the emotions that words could never express. There was an intensity behind the kiss, as if he had ignited a hunger in Zoro that only Sanji could satiate. The swordsman pulled him even closer, hands gripping at his ribs.

Sanji groaned when his tongue slid against Zoro’s, reveling in the way the swordsman tasted. He wanted to stay close to Zoro like this forever, but all too soon, Zoro pulled away. The loss of warmth left him feeling cold and empty. 

A traitorous whine escaped his throat. Sanji tightened his grip, afraid of the moment slipping away, but Zoro grasped onto his hands. Suddenly, Sanji was being led down the hall.

“Where are we going?” Sanji asked breathlessly.

Zoro’s gaze flitted back to Sanji, and there was no mistaking the burning look of want and need in the swordsman’s eyes.

“My room.” 

Sanji’s knees weakened, causing him to stumble. His heart raced at the implications of what was to come when they reached Zoro’s chambers. Sanji recovered quickly enough to stop Zoro from leading him down the wrong hall. He half laughed, half cried as he took the lead, pulling Zoro in the right direction.

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(Full mature content will be posted on AO3)

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Sanji lay pressed against Zoro’s chest. Pleasure began to ebb, making his limbs feel heavy, while their legs tangled in the soft bedding. Sanji chose to concentrate on the scent of steel surrounding him like armor and the way Zoro breathed as a counterpoint to his own, the swordsman’s chest rising just as Sanji’s was collapsing, almost like they were sharing the same breath. Passing it back and forth.

Zoro lifted a hand to caress Sanji’s cheek, his touch tender and grounding. Zoro’s lips pressed against his own, and Sanji tasted salt. His mouth became damp from the swordsman’s tears.

“Don’t marry her…” Zoro pleaded softly against Sanji’s lips. “Don’t forget, you deserve to be happy.”

Sanji hid his face within the crease of Zoro’s neck, trying to hide his own tears that threatened to spill forth. He could feel himself trembling, and he wondered if Zoro could feel it too. When the swordsman’s hand pressed harder into his back, he knew he could.

In that moment, wrapped in Zoro’s embrace, Sanji began to realize the truth in Zoro’s words. For so long, he had convinced himself that his own happiness was a luxury he couldn’t afford. But Zoro’s unwavering love showed him that he was worthy of more. He deserved to be happy, to fight for his own future.

As the warmth of Zoro’s presence enveloped him, Sanji felt a spark ignite within him. It was a spark of fiery determination. Zoro believed in him, and that belief gave Sanji the strength to believe in himself. He could no longer accept a life dictated by Judge’s manipulations. He couldn’t marry Pudding out of duty when his heart belonged to Zoro.

Sanji’s trembling began to subside as a new resolve took root within him. He lifted his head from Zoro’s shoulder, meeting the swordsman’s gaze with a newfound clarity.

“You’re right.” Sanji whispered steadily. “I want to stay happily by your side. And I won’t let Judge take that away from me.”

Zoro’s eyes shone with pride and relief. He buried his hand into Sanji’s sweat damped hair and pulled him back down, bringing their lips together once more. The look of pure happiness on Zoro’s face, filled Sanji with confidence. 

Sanji knew that with Zoro by his side, he could face anything. 

No arranged marriage, no force, could ever steal away his beloved swordsman from him.

[graviconscientia]

The second night, there is, as expected, panic.

Her Highness, Virago Netrak, First Princess, Promised Future of the Alternian Empire, has not slept a wink since someone broke into the palace. The captain of the palace guards has been trailing her every step for hours, apologizing one moment, offering ideas on how to bolster security the next, and while his intentions are good, his voice is driving her to madness. His attention has been on her the entire time, but so has everyone else's. Soldiers and staff and nobles and every person who has ever stepped foot inside the palace are seeking answers-- They cannot ask her mother, so they must ask her. There are many moments where she would love to raise her voice, and remind all of them that her mother did not choose an heir. There are five siblings, and here, they are a quinquevirate. The empire will not fall if there are ten hands to hold it up.

But it seems that in the commotion, everyone has lost their goddamn minds, as well as the recollection that she is not sole regent. So she is left to guide forces, to console servants who are nervous that there will be another attack very soon, to appease nobles who would love to see the House of Netrak lose their power in a day. Where are her brothers, her sister? Not offering their help, for certain. And there is a flash of irritation directed far beyond the grounds of the castle; because where the fuck is her mom?

She sweeps through the halls, greeting whoever she passes by, head held high and violet eyes kept forward as she hears the prattling behind her, and eventually, it strikes the right nerve, and she spins around, eyes closed with her middle finger pressed firmly between furrowed brows. Virago is not known to express frustration, but there are exceptions to every rule.

"Captain Zaldun, I appreciate your concern, I do." The princess speaks gently, with restraint and all the grace she is known to carry. "But perhaps we should continue this conversation with the entirety of the Crown. My brothers will have more to offer on the matter of guards than I do."

The oliveblooded captain leans forward, his eyes pleading to keep just a second more of her time. "But Your Highness, I just think that--"

Her other hand goes up to stop his speech, and she shakes her head, fins flaring from her cheeks. "Captain, please. I need a moment to compose myself. It's been a frightfully long day, and I am no longer interested in words. We will revisit this conversation tomorrow."

Of course, he wants to say more, but he cannot force her to listen, and with a sharp turn away, he is gone, the only sound he makes coming from his boots rapidly clicking down the hall. And for a moment, there is silence, a break. Good. Thank fucking god. A few more steps down the hall, and she is in front of a large door, that leads into a private, spacious common area for the Crown. A hideaway for a moment. Upon stepping through the door, though, she sees she is not alone.

There, spread out one of the chaises, is a young man dressed in loose, casual garments that sport magenta and gold, tossing a dense glass orb up in the air above his head, a leg lazily draped over the arm of the couch. He doesn't turn to face Virago, only smirks as the ball is launched upward, and caught effortlessly, once more.

"Zaldun finally leave you alone?"

The princess scowls at the young man, stomping over to him to yank his toy from him mid-air. "No thanks to you. No one can seem to find any of the other heirs! So instead of talking to you, they have to speak with me immediately!" She hurls the orb back to the man, glowering as she stands over him. "Where the fuck have YOU been? Where the fuck have any of you been?"

The tyrian troll does not catch his toy well, the wind knocked out of him as it hits his chest. Still, he smiles, infuriatingly. "Well, I can't speak for the other three, but me? I've been hiding. Turns out, I'm pretty good at it."

There's a groan from Virago as she sits on his lounging spot, flopping down but taking care to avoid his head. "Cyther Kaiser, I hate you so much."

"What are you gonna do, kill me about it?"

"No. If you died, Mom would be sad."

"Well…" The boy tosses the orb up once more, then carefully sets it on the low table in front of them. "Mom isn't here, is she?"

There's a glance shared between the two royals, a sorrow that carries through both of their hearts and into their eyes, and Virago sighs, resting a hand on his hair between his horns. "She would know what to do about all of this… We wouldn't even need to do anything ourselves."

"Yeah…" Cyther Kaiser rolls on his side, closing his eyes for a moment in the safety of his sister's presence. "And she'd probably tell Captain Zaldun to shove it up his ass. Which you could do too…"

The violetblooded woman laughs briefly, and her brother joins in. "You know, I just might. I'll get him next time."

There's a moment of silence, of rest for both of them, but it's gone in an instant as there is a knock at the door, with a muffled voice calling for the princess outside of it. And that voice is immediately recognizable to both heirs, earning the bearer double the rolled eyes, and raised hackles from the princess.

"There's your chance, Vira. Tell him to suck your bulge too, for good measure."

The princess whacks the top of her brother's head (which is answered with a loud ow! fuck! from the fuschia prince) and stands up, eyes intently staring down the door as she clicks back into royal mode, opening it without greeting. There's a race to speak first, and the captain wins:"Your Highness, forgive me, but I--"

"Captain Zaldun, unless this palace is in flames, or the moon is crashing into the planet, whatever you have to say can wait until next light. Do not dare to bother me again."

Virago is ready to slam the door in his face, but a smaller voice speaks up, belonging to a fresh-faced blueblooded guard that stands a few paces behind him. "Your Highness, I requested he speak to you. I wanted him to tell you something on my behalf."

Unfortunately, the princess cannot tell a young soldier in her care to evaporate immediately, and so she raises an eyebrow, a prompt for the guard to speak. Cyther Kaiser, brat that he is, has decided to join the conversation, resting his arm against the doorway, peering over his older sister's shoulder.

"Yeah? But now you've got us both here, so tell us what you need to. We don't need to hear Zaldun talk further."

The captain frowns at the prince, who only stupidly smiles back, deeply irritating the princess who is trying to hear the young lady in front of her speak. "Your Highnesses, I was sent into the library to stop the intruder from escaping, where my team and I were not successful…" There is disappointment in the blueblood troll's voice, but she continues on. "I was ordered upstairs, and I was lucky to find the intruder at their escape point, and I saw who they were."

The heirs look at each other for a split second. An identity will make this situation easier, certainly. An assassin will mean sleepless nights, but a spy will mean war. Thieves only matter as much as what they stole, and anyone else will be handled as deemed necessary. One more glance to Cyther Kaiser, and then Virago speaks. "Who was it? We need to start investigating at once."

The soldiers look between each other before the blueblood speaks once more. "Your Highness, it was your mother." >Previous? >Next?

[yaoi-yaoieverywhere]

Going to rank movies Cale could show On and Hong (also Raon) with cats in them. It's that kind of night

Puss in Boots: The Last Wish

You KNOW why this is ranked first. It's a great story, kid-friendly of course, the protagonist is a cat, and it will help them deal with trauma and panic attacks in a positive way. The downsides are Cale now has to deal with Hong and On and Raon trailing after him singing WHO IS YOUR FAVORITEEEE FEARLESSSS HEEEEROOO and catching cartwheeling cats falling from every height you can imagine. They have also wheedled the Blue Wolf tribe into taking turns playing Death. Maes remains the best while Lock tries hard but can't remember his lines very well.

2. The Cat Returns

Hong was really charmed by the dashing Baron in this one, so much so Cale is honestly reconsidering letting him meet any nobles or royalty around his age. On similarly was mostly only watching when Yuki or Haru are on screen. The cat kingdom has made them less cautious about possibly encountering other Cat Tribes in the future which is an added social bonus. On was well on her way to plotting a coup of the Cat King too, with Raon chiming in for most destructive methods. Unlike Puss in Boots 2, this movie was good for quiet time after the first watch-through.

3. Oliver and Company

More singing! A relatable plot for the kids! Found family vibes! Ranked here because it encouraged the dangerous stunt of jumping from carriage to carriage in the middle of the capitol, causing quite a mess.

4. The Aristocats

Cale was reluctant to show this one. He's not here to encourage Duchess' behavior in the children- the fussy noble manners or her taste in men. She gets a man prior to the movie, ditches him presumably, has 3 kids, gets a different man after being kidnapped/attempted murdered, doesn't ditch him. that's- Wait a second. That's Cale. Earth 1, had the Soos, they pass, he then goes to another world and ends up with 3 kids, gets several men following him around, they don't die on him and he can't manage to ditch them. Anyway he does not want the children to watch this movie for at least two reasons now, but he had to show them anyway. The only song they took from this one was Everybody Wants To Be A Cat.

5. Cats & Dogs: The Revenge of Kitty Galore

This one is farther down mostly because Mr. Tinkles is a villain, but unlike its predecessor at least this one has good cats. As much as spy agencies can be good! This one ranks lower because it needs a fair bit of explaining (deworming horrified the kids) and once they got the jokes they laughed loudly. A lot. This is lower ranked bc the kids never asked to watch it again and it took a lot of effort to get through the first watch anyway.

6. Puss in Boots

Not gonna lie the first Puss in Boots didn't do so hot mostly because Humpty Dumpty fell so flat. It wasn't the worst movie ever, but it wasn't really good enough to show the kids either. So he doesn't!

[itsbenedict]

Two-Faced Jewel: Thunderbrush 1

Salutations, Street Brawlers!

A conwoman disguised as a noble and the delegation of university students studying her have arrived in the jungle city of Thunderbrush, ruled by ancient dryads and organized crime. Will they manage to stay uninvolved in shady conspiracies? (No.)

Story so far | Session log index | Previous session

Last time, the party's local guide- a vampire working for a ghost dryad information broker, long story- brought them up to speed on the many, many squabbling factions that make Thunderbrush a somewhat dangerous place to live. This time, they make landfall... and immediately get some firsthand experience.

Cabana Jim, the boat's former owner, also leases a private dock in the city, so they don't have any trouble finding a place to park the ship. They disembark without any trouble, and start trying to get oriented in the busy harbor.

Looseleaf's first instinct is to find a newspaper! She finds an avian paperboy selling issues of the Bird's-Eye View, a local newspaper from the perspective of the inhabitants of Canopy. Canopy is the secondary city situated in Tonnera's branches, populated near-exclusively by avians, who can fly.

The newspaper reports on a few different things:

Tonnera's roots have been attacked by unknown assailants with powerful tunneling magic in the city's southeastern quarter, occupying her personal guard.

Welcoming Trails, a dwarven mining commune, is trying to expand, and there's several op-eds railing against a piece by one Carsh Dolmir advocating for the expansion.

The Ecumene of Understanding is planning a submarine mission to the unexplored depths of the ocean and needs volunteer crew.

And... oh, hey, looks like the big Warball semifinals against the Blacksky Iron Hounds is going to be held here, instead of in Oyashio as planned. Right on the campus they're headed to, actually!

That last one causes Orluthe to panic for some mysterious reason. (Remember, he's secretly the Blacksky team's secret weapon, the ALPHA DOOMHOUND.) He runs off, and the party sends Oyobi to keep an eye on him.

The newsboy tries to put the squeeze on Saelhen, to no avail. She haggles mercilessly- and eventually succeeds when Looseleaf reminds her of their secret weapon. They were just in Corolos, where there was a huge dramatic murder trial! This kid wants to be a real journalist himself, and they have an exclusive scoop.

Saelhen eventually succeeds in haggling down the price with a combination of smack-talk and intimidation- the kid's noticed their conspicuous wealth and bad manners, and seems to think they're a bunch of bigshot criminal types, not to be messed with.

Saelhen then asks the kid- Quinn Squall- if he knows any good local tea shops. He seems to think on it for a second, and then a lightbulb goes on over his head. Apparently he does know a good tea shop! He offers to guide them there!

The party accepts, and starts making their way north, following Quinn. And as they do... they notice they're being followed.

Three grizzled-looking dwarves concealing weapons in long cloaks are tailing them, and they don't look happy. After some muttered discussion, they eventually decide to just...

So... there are witnesses. They couldn't necessarily get away with attacking the party unseen, but... they don't seem to care too much about that. They pull out nailbats, and combat starts.

Looseleaf goes first- and she decides to just use her wings and jump onto the roof of the nearest building to get out of range of the angry men. Which... coincidentally puts her right next to a different NPC who was also tailing them, hopping along the rooftops just out of sight. He looks kind of alarmed that he's been discovered.

He denies being with the dwarves, and opts not to attack her or do much of anything. It's just sort of awkward.

Miriko informs the party that the attacking dwarves are from the Lichen, Naberia's gang- and that the ninja is presumably one of the Jumoku Jaguars, the elf weeaboos. She tries to intimidate the dwarves, to no avail, and passes to Vayen, who (per usual) does not help at all.

Saelhen does much less fucking around than everyone else.

She pulls out some hidden throwing knives and pins a guy's feet to the street. Jesus. That one's out in one shot, and Quinn panics at the sudden violence and runs and hides behind a nearby building.

A couple of the bystanders take actions. A human sits down on a bench to watch, and a dwarf in a hooded cloak suddenly flash-steps and vanishes. This... has no immediate effect on combat, for some reason.

The two remaining Lichen thugs charge Saelhen, but she effortlessly dodges their clumsy swings and sidesteps them entirely. Trained combatants they ain't.

On the next turn, Looseleaf and Saelhen team up on one of the remaining mooks, putting knives in him and knocking him out with ranged spirit magic. But now that they're in close, the remaining guy finally manages to land a hit on Saelhen, pulling her to the ground and smacking her head on the cobble.

In response, Saelhen uses her bracer to turn invisible. Her roll is mixed, and she has to roll a d100 on a secret table of stuff-that-happens-when-you-do-that.

Miriko draws a sharp pen from where she stabbed it into another guy's face, and threatens the one who's still conscious, pointing out his two effortlessly-KO'd comrades. The dwarf... attempts to run for it.

And then as he passes an alleyway, something moving too fast to see grabs him and disappears him with a stifled scream. Combat's over! The human sitting on the bench claps.

Rather than rouse and interrogate their assailants, though, the party opts to just make themselves scarce before they have to deal with the authorities or whatever. These guys were probably just your standard muggers, with no secret agenda to ask about.

The ninja continues awkwardly following them... and so does the human, who catches up with them pretty soon.

Chainer seems like a representative of the Gentle Chains, the slaver gang Cabana Jim used to do business with- and she's determined to make a sale. Miriko keeps deflecting, so she extends an invitation to their main office before the party manages to ditch her.

(Quinn has been furiously taking notes on the inside of his paper bag this whole time.)

Looseleaf... invites the ninja to tea. The ninja, humiliated by his failure to remain unnoticed, is flabbergasted by her total lack of concern for being spied on by a ninja, and can't think of anything else to do but accept. Because, uh, apparently the job was that easy. Sure!

Benedict (GM): So, Quinn finishes leading you to the destination- which is, it would seem, the base of Tonnera Mighty. Who, it seems, is hollow. There's a huge archway leading into a wide-open space in the center of the tree, and various crisscrossing stairways and lift devices cover the inner walls. There's also murals and carvings all over the bark at ground level, a few stories high, and you can see some artists actively painting a higher section with floral patterns. Beautiful buildings with windows and walls of colored glass adorn the higher levels of the tree, inside and out, anchored to the Mighty's walls. Quinn leads you to an external lift- a colorfully-painted basket hung by ropes that disappear into the canopy. "Well… we're almost there!" "Going up!" Looseleaf: The tea shop is at the very top of the tree canopy, huh. How's that holographic arrow looking? Benedict (GM): The arrow is pointing straight at the ground in the very center of the hollow chamber, which is decorated with a star-like radial design in ancient-looking ceramic tiles. It's very similar to the design on Yoshimimoto Plaza, where you fucked a city with infinite bats. Looseleaf: …ggggreat.

Next time: Definitely just having tea in a normal tea shop. Don't worry about it!

[ejesgistnews]

Anambra State Governor, Prof. Chukwuma Soludo, has directed the closure of schools in the Nnewi zone amid heightened tensions ahead of Senator Ifeanyi Ubah's burial. The decision follows recent unrest in Nnewi, where gunmen attacked the area on Wednesday night, killing several individuals and setting a vehicle ablaze. The incident, which occurred around 7:30 p.m., caused panic, with many residents fleeing the area. School Closure Circular In a circular issued Thursday via WhatsApp, the state government instructed all principals in the Nnewi zone to close schools until Tuesday next week. Parents were also advised to keep day students at home for safety reasons. Read Also: FG Announces Line of Action as Court Orders Seizure of $25M Nigerian Properties to Chinese Firm The circular stated: Good morning Parents, please the above information is from the Commissioner of Education, day students should not come to school till Tuesday next week. Good evening Noble Principals! I am directed to inform you to close all schools in Nnewi Zone on Thursday 21/11/2024 and Friday 22/11/2024. Please circulate this information on your school WhatsApp groups and inform parents of your students. Try your best to find proper channels of reaching these students so that they would not be found wandering on the streets with their school uniforms. Remain blessed and stay safe!!!” Police Deny Link Between Nnewi Attack and Burial The Anambra State Police Command has refuted claims that the Nnewi killings are connected to the upcoming burial. Superintendent Tochukwu Ikenga, the Police Public Relations Officer, clarified that the attack was unrelated to the burial but stemmed from a confrontation between security operatives and a suspect. Catholic Church Rejects $40,000 Donation from Kenya’s President Ruto Ikenga explained: “Preliminary investigations reveal that the security operatives were trailing a suspect when the gun duel ensued at a security checkpoint. Unfortunately, bullets hit the fuel tank of a Toyota Venza Sedan carrying the police personnel, causing it to catch fire. Two innocent bystanders were injured in the crossfire and are currently receiving medical attention.” The command emphasized that the incident was not an attempt to disrupt the burial and assured residents that the Joint Security Forces (JSF) had been deployed to maintain peace during the ceremonies. Senator Ifeanyi Ubah’s Burial The burial of the late Senator is scheduled for Friday in Umuanuka village, Otolo Nnewi. The state government and security agencies have called for calm and assured the public of safety as investigations into the attack continue.

[baohst]

From my experience around people who have to play many roles and have few avenues to relax, Cezar feels incredibly awesome to me, and consistent. Maybe it’s because I’ve got some friends in public roles who sneak away from the crowds at events to play Donkey Kong or sneak around incognito for funsies to do things like volunteer or try restaurants? Buskers and touring performers and stagehands aren’t too far off from mercenaries when you take away the murdery part. I also don’t think that Cezar had no afterthoughts about Liam, we probably just weren’t given that perspective because Cezar doesn’t linger on his hurt when there are more important matters at hand. Jean truly is Best Wingman, and from his confirmation that Cezar is a workaholic softie, it seems more likely that he’s looking forward to seeing how Liam gets to grow up and welcome him back. Cezar also realized based on the information Liam provided that there’s an unsavory connection between That Man and crimes in Ethnell. The witness testimony of one orphan child against a former Sorcier noble who’s so good at covering his trail and intentions that he even scares Cezar is hard to work with. Or is my memory mixing up and am I misremembering?

Maria v Cezar was hilarious. I love how smoothly she got between them and that they wound up just talking about Katarina on their way back. Maria actually being affected by dark magic later, however, was not hilarious. I’m so curious and worried and excited to see what comes next. So far, the Wielder of Light has only been affected by terror when near strong dark magic, but the magic itself hasn’t affected her. Just how strong is the opposition?

I’m not sure if Katarina was actually being affected by her OG! self when her magic took over. Maria brings out Katarina’s “I want to protect her!” instincts. I think that what took over was simply her anger at people who had hurt her precious waifu and her waifu’s mother. She had just seen Maria’s mom unconscious and walked in to see Maria bound in dark magic. I think she snapped in a way similar to when Geordo snapped and almost burned a man alive with his magic when he walked in and saw Katarina’s disheveled state. Alan had to use his water magic to stop his brother at that time.

…when you walk into the middle of a dear friend in danger, it’s hard to stay rational. I’ve had instances where I could barely hold myself back or when my body felt like it was moving on its own.

Thankfully, Cezar was there to bite her nose. Speaking as someone who’s had panic attacks stopped with a dark and handsome man’s finger up my nose and reassurances that everyone around me was safe, this also felt incredibly realistic to me.

Geordo is really, really starting to irritate me with how physical he gets when he’s possessive. Especially since Katarina has explicitly told him that she’s afraid of love. He recognized that she was pulling back out of fear from his advances, just not why, and Katarina told him. She told him, and he said he understood and would give her time. He’d stated his point and Cezar understood; he didn’t need to assault Katarina just because he thought he Cezar had kissed her. Jeffrey might have implied that Cezar kissed her when he spoke to Geordo, but Katarina losing control over her magic surely came up. Susanna and the first prince are ornery and enjoy watching chaos, but Katarina losing control of her magic is the kind of important thing that should matter more than marking his territory just because Karatina was too friendly with the prince of Ethnell for his jealousy to handle. His fiancée’s magic went out of control, and his first reaction was to get possessive before checking to see how she was doing the day after. Then when she explained that Cezar only bit her nose and saved her from herself, he still didn’t ask how she was doing, he stayed angry at Cezar. Then because she didn’t use the proper level of formality when speaking to defend someone who had saved her and those around her from herself, Geordo stuck his tongue down her throat and made her faint. I really, truly was glad when the harem burst in and pulled Geordo away this time, and even happier to find out that Geordo isn’t allowed over for a while because of his actions. There wasn’t any fist-shaking because Mary or Keith ruined a sweet moment this time; I was cheering them on. I applaud Duke Claes and award him a million dad points for protecting his daughter. Maybe I’m over sensitive because the blue eyed blonde I spent a decade with crossed a line with me, but Susanna better start maneuvering for Katarina to fall for Alan if she wants her for a little sister. Katarina deserves someone with more restraint and respect for her needs.

I’m looking forward to playing the Silva route even more now just to get Bakarina on a different continent from Geordo.

Pochi has told Katarina that she needs to call him to fight, and despite the reminders from Larna and Raphael and Sora and Jeffrey et al, she keeps forgetting to call him. It’s because she thinks of him as a sweet puppy, not a weapon, and probably also because she is trying to avoid hurting others. Versus a dragon is one thing, but against humans is something else entirely. Katarina’s a cinnamon roll whose combat instincts include: throwing snakes, throwing rocks, swinging sticks, running, earth bumping bullies, trying to train Pochi to bark and growl, putting her body between threats and her loved ones, and beating up baby dark familiars with her bare hands because they hurt her brother. I keep hoping for Katarina to ask Pochi if he can help her read her Dark Covenant.

The pawns Katarina took down weren’t badly injured, just incapacitated. I think it shows again that dark magic amplifies, but it doesn’t go contrary to the heart.

I think the blizzard feeling is part of someone’s magic going out of control based on what Cyrus and Larna explained and unrelated to the darkness in Geordo’s heart. I think the darkness there in his heart needs to be sucked out with Katarina’s skull stick and is his own making. It could also be a clue to the potential for innate darkness and how it could have existed in the past before the murder ritual.

I think that given the extra Raphael time, Marquis Dieke’s known womanizing, and That Man’s gray eyes (the same color as Raphael’s), it’s definitely likely that the former aristocrat is the former Marquis Dieke. Who’s he working for? Probably Uncle Stuart directly or someone who works closely with Uncle Stuart, who probably has his own information network, given how detailed he was in scolding Katarina. He probably helped get the leaves out of her hair because when she thanked him, he realized that she’s not actually a villainess. Alan’s history shows us that sheltered princes can get skewed towards or against people they don’t know well based on gossip around them, and that Katarina has a knack for knocking those skewed opinions about once they meet her.

I am definitely curious to see if her brother is reincarnated in this world or if her memories are just timely because she feels like she can relax around Cezar in a similar way. She doesn’t have Aachan dreams without Sophia in the room, so I’m curious to see who it could be. Maybe it’s actually Pochi? He’s always with her. Or maybe it’s different and he doesn’t need to be in the room?

So now that you finished LN13 - what is your opinion on it? What did you like? Was there something you didn't like?

I am not sure I can organize my thoughts well but I'll do my best 😅.

Overall, this volume was really dense! A lot happened and a lot of information was given on various fronts: dark magic, the organization, Monkey Girl's past life, worldbuilding, Uncle Stuart...

Lots of intriguing parts:

Who manipulated Katarina's body when she lost control of her body? Could it have been the OG!Katarina part in her?

Why could Maria feel the use of dark magic without seeing dark magic? Can Marquis Dieke(?) use dark magic in a special way?

Why would Marquis Dieke(?) be in the organization? If he pulled the strings in Raphael's incident, does it mean he manipulated Raphael?

If the man really is Marquis Dieke, shouldn't Raphael have a role in Fortune Lover 2? Raphael can't be the second hidden capture target?

What's with Marquis Dieke(?)'s resemblance with Laura? Still, they can't be the same person since the man has wind magic while Laura is said to have fire magic.

Why didn't Sarah say a single line in this story? Why was her face hidden when Katarina saw her unconscious on the floor?

Why did Sarah go on her mission with thugs this time?

Why did Uncle Stuart dust off the leaves on Katarina's head even though he appears to hate her?

Is the fact that Nathan is missing on the day we see Uncle Stuart supposed to lead us to think they are the same person?

Dark magic was already around before normal magic was developed in Sorcier? Could dark magic be some kind of fundamental magic?

How will Sorcier's old tales impact the story? We have already seen the place to power up magic in LN7, now there is a mention of the founders of Sorcier again. How about the tales of the rampaging beast?

Is it a coincidence that Katarina lost control after getting back the pocket mirror object?

How did OG!Katarina learn magic?

So Maria is not immune to dark magic after all?

If the organization attacked Maria to prevent her from using her spell, why didn't Marquis Dieke(?) try to capture Maria?

Why didn't Pochi come out when Katarina was fighting?

the cold thing in Katarina's body, the black thing in Geordo's heart. I wonder if they are related

could the black thing in Geordo's heart be dark magic? Could he be manipulated by dark magic? Could he have dark magic inside him?

The volume was heavily focused on Cezar's romance. I was surprised Cezar was given so many sweet moments as if to set him up as Geordo's rival. The moments are nice but I am kind of neutral regarding Cezar. He has so many sides to his personality that it feels inconsistent at times: the sulking little brother, the workaholic concerned for his country, the adventurous and easygoing mercenary, and the two-faced prince. I didn't like it when he willingly deceived Maria and decided he would work on making Sorcier indebted to him so that he could marry Katarina. It felt like he wasn't a kind person concerned for his country after all. He also had no afterthoughts about Liam even so he almost made him cry with happiness. But Cezar is kinda fun in mercenary mode. I loved his moments with Katarina in chapter 4.

Also, I love Jean. Each time Jean appeared, I loved it. How he smoothly played wingman is fun to see.

But since this volume was focused on Cezar, the romance didn't develop at all for the others. Keith barely had any lines, and Nicol and Alan didn't get even one line, which is a shame.

I loved Maria's scene when she confronted Cezar. Seeing Maria with so much fighting spirit was a sight. I was surprised she was willing to confront a prince because I thought she didn't compete with the others because of their high-ranking status. She confronted Cezar, used the fiancée card against him, and smoothly prevented him from going home with Katarina. It feels like she has learned from looking at Geordo and Keith bickering, and looking at Mary scheming against Geordo.

I definitely love how Raphael had so many scenes in this volume. I like how it might imply he will have a big role later on, regardless of his possible connection with Sarah.

I also loved Laura's scenes in the volume. Whether Laura bonds with Katarina or with Raphael. Supposing Laura is Marquis Dieke, I wonder how he would consider Raphael.

It seems like Cezar is still in Sorcier by the end of the volume. Katarina has finished his route, so maybe he will lose his "capture target" status and ask for his member card in the harem? There were also so many stories about Monkey Girl's older brother that it feels like he might be revealed in the next volume. Also, with Marquis Dieke(?) mentioning how Katarina could work on their side, I wonder if it will happen in the future.

[alcordraws]

I just had a dumb idea for the raised by wolves au.

The pearl clan, scrambling for an explanation for why this Zoruark adopted these two kids and is overall friendly to people, starts throwing out the idea that maybe the Zoruark is a noble??? Perhaps an unknown one??? It's bigger than average (alpha) so it's possible??? They appoint Emmet as her warden

The other nobles don't do anything to disprove this theory because A. It's funny, and B. New friend yay.

Momma Zoruark is very confused and doesn't know how this happened

 Oh wait quick fic idea

When the massive zoroark shambles into the camp, there is, of course, panic. Irida is more or less ready to throw out her glacian to protect her people when she realizes that there’s a small boy trotting after it, an almost exact copy of the boy that Lady Sneasler had brought with her, his face hidden by the very same mask that the boy that had introduced himself as Ingo had worn. Could it be a zorua cub trailing after its mother and wearing a disguise? She had heard that there were two boys, but a part of her wondered if at least one of them was a copy of the other.

She wants to assess the situation further (though in this one case, she will secretly agree with Adaman that time is of the essence lest one of her clan members get hurt), but she isn’t able to do much before a streak of white and red speeds past her, a far too loud cry of EMMET practically shaking the snow from the mountain tops. 

Lady Sneaslers trundles behind at a more sedate pace, chittering softly as the two boys crash into each other, tumbling slightly in the snow. She waves a large paw at Irida as she passes, strangely completely unbothered by the stranger showing up in her territory. 

The zoroark pauses, regarding the boys with eyes that Irida would dare to call gentle, accepting when both boys quickly latch onto her as well. Strangely, she doesn’t seem violent the way other pokemon of its kind would be, carefully nudging a slender snout against Ingo’s snowy silver hair. Normally Lady Sneasler would be protective of her chosen warden, but she doesn’t seem to sense any malice from the zoroark, slinking down to chitter at it, her head titling curiously.

"What in Almighty Sinnoh's name...?" Irida startles, having been so intent on the interaction that she hadn't noticed Gaeric's approach.

He'd had the same idea as her in trying to intervene, but the zoroark isn't attacking anyone, the two boys are fearless, and even their Lady of the Ridge has no issue with it being so close to the village.

"Do you think it could be a forgotten Noble? Lady Sneasler usually only has this much respect for other nobles, and if she chose one of those boys, perhaps the other is the zoroark's warden?" Irida speculates. She would need to bring it up with Adaman and his wardens, but as she begins to approach the pokemon, she can't help but think that maybe it wouldn't hurt to have another Pearl Clan Noble in the Icelands.

A Lady of the Frozen Hills.

[queengiuliettafirstlady]

A surprise for my Love

A surprise for my Love

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire

Pairing: Comte de Saint Germain x OC (Julie Pureblood vampire)

Prompt: Feb 5th - “I made you miss me. I want to make up for that.”

Part of Be my valentine content creation challenge hosted by @xxsycamore and @chaosangel767

Tag: Spoiler Comte name Insecurity Reassurance Smut Minors DNI!!

Word Count: 1.565

Author's Note: Le Comte noble duty do not leave him much free time much to the dismay of his lover, as doubts begin to wash over her his return manage to brush them away though le good comte knows exactly how reassure her in his won way enough to make up for all the time he spent away from her, showing her the depth of his love until dawn in his own special way. 😏

Tag list

@kissmetwicekissmedeadly @aquagirl1978 

@william-rex @writingwhimsey

@fang-and-feather @moonstruckmelancholic @lichtluv

@wistfulwanderingone @rjthirsty

@ike-garden2024 @jollibeeshappiness

@starzyquee  @maeko-kun @rkmaru

You can find me on AO3 as QueenJuliet 😊 Thank you for everyone who will like, reblog, or comment please be gentle with me english is not my first language so please do not leave rude comments I apologise for eventual errors I hope you will like it. 😊

It was a frizzy evening quiet even, all the residents had long retired to their room, but one le comte wife was waiting patiently for him, half asleep on his armchair staring absently outside the window trying to look for his carriage she could not help but think of him, he was away for a whole day making her worried beyond words, she knew he had to settle down the art exhibition for Theo and this alone took him a while but still she was anxious it was well past midnight and he had yet to return, vain were the reassurance of Sebastian and Leonardo for her soon to come panic attack, after trying to occupy her time wandering around trying to help everyone to not think with no success she retied in their bedroom to not disturb the others.

She was so lost in her mind to not notice a figure hovering over her until a soft pair lips planed on her forehead, her eyes widened and a smile bright like the sun appeared on her pretty lips as she jumped into his ams to hug him hiding her face into his chest she let his musky woody scent invade her nostrils making her head feel dizzy.

“I am glad to see I am so well welconed ma chérie.” he murmured softly in her ear

“Did you missed me?”

“So much Abel I think I was gong mad.”smiling at her honesty he kissed tenderly her forehead

“I am sorry ma petite to make you worry, I missed you too so very much Julie.” gently he placed a soft kiss on her lips as they pulled away he trapped against the wall his hands standing on her hips he leaned over to whisper few inches from her lips

“I made you miss me. I want to make up for that.”softly he cradled her face into his hand kissing her passionately, his tongue melting with hers while his hands begin to travel down caressing her breast feeling her nipple stiff under his touch, slowly he caressed his way down making her mewl softly as his fingers slide down her panties to brush his thumb over her clit, trailing kisses all over her breast he nibbled on her peeked nipple making her mewl as his nimble fingers dive into her.

“A-abel please.” moaning needy she bucked her hips against him, slowly he dive deeper into her folds feeling her warm wetness drip over his wrist engulfig him as he curled his digits into her while she threw her head back against the wall, feeling the feverish snap of her hips he pulled away licking them clean locking his eyes to hers making her blush, he leaned over her again pulling her in sweet slow kiss while his fingers slipped her nightgown off her shoulder she gasped at the cold air as her finger reached to unbotton his shirt briefly brushing over his still caged manhood, breathless he broke the kiss only to take her into his arms gently laying her onto the bed, swiftly he threw off his clothes before cradling her face into his hands kissing her forehead his gaze full of affection he smiled tenderly looking into her eyes gleaming with happiness

“I love you so much my sweet little rose.”

“I love you too mon prince.” she smiled sighing softly at his nimble finger unclasped her bra sliding her panties off her legs gently he bend over her whispering his voice sultry hoarse with lust but still so gentle she felt her heart swell in his warmth, slowly his lips travelled down peppering kisses all over her breast and onto her core, her finger brushed into his hair as his tongue moved skilfully over her clit making her moan, her hips begin to love slightly feeling his tongue dive into her folds while his thumb reaching to massage her swollen bud, a needy moan escaped her as she threw her head back tightening her grip in his hair

“A-abel.” she sighed softly spreading her legs as her hips bucked against his soft tongue ravaging her core, suddenly he felt her warm sweet juice roll onto him diligently he licked her clean before pulling away brushing the back of his hand on his chin, his eyes gleaming lustfully in the dark, his fangs bared and a sensual smirk on his lips he looked like a beast ready to devour her, she should have been afraid, yet she felt another rush of arouse pool into her core, shily she smiled at him seeing him discarding his clothes admiring the taut muscles of his abdomen flexes as he palmed his thick manhood brushing off some drop of seed from his top he bend over whispering in her ear hos voice low and hoarse

“I have to assure you would remember my love even when I am away. Please let me show it to you to doubt no more ma petite.” slowly he bring her in another kiss sliding his tongue to explore her mouth while he lined with her entrance his tingue melting with hers as he come home inside her swallowing her moans feeling her finger dive into his hair deepening their kiss while his cock hilt fully inside her nestling his balls against her folds softly she whimpered arching her back eliciting him to move and so he did setting a slow peace.

Gently he brushed away some strands of hair from her neck, she sighed softly as his lips crawled to nibble gently on her shoulder before crawling their way up to push his fangs into her skin rolling her blood on his tongue, she whimpered arching her under him as his tongue lapped every drop of her sugary essence she mewls melting his name in a moan, slowly he pulled away softly licking the wound kissing it before biting his finger offering it to her, wide-eyed she licked her lips thirsty before reaching for it diligently to engulf it into her mouth, her tongue lapping at every drop of blood she elicited sucking his digits covering it in her saliva pushing in and out of her mouth looking at him, he groaned as his eyes darkened with lust and his tongue darted sensually on his upper lip, slowly she pulled it off with a wet pop letting out a moan of satisfaction swiftly he caged her in his arms pulling her down in another kiss.

It was so lewd tasting their blood from each other but they cared very little as their tongue waltzed and melted together, their bodies moving in sync each roll of their hips sending a wave of pleasure washing over them, while she moaned and arched hooking her legs around his waist he groaned and growled pushing even deeper into her spreading her leg with his arm keeping it close to his hips as he thrust in and out while she clawed his back at each errant roll of his hips moaning his name over and over letting everyone knew who she belonged to and he hoped the way he was loving her that night would have been enough to remind her forever of his feeling even when he was away, the memory of their lovemaking to keep her company and dissipate every doubt she may have had during the lonely times in which they were apart, every second of it sheer agony for his heart desiring nothing more than to spend each moment with her as well as their entire eternity entwined together body heart soul and destiny forever, making her feel loved and appreciated every day.

Slowly they pulled away and he leaned his forehead to her murmuring softly few inches from her lips

“I love you ma princesse I love you forever and ever.”

“I love you too mon prince so much.” softly he cradled her face into his hand leaving a sweet gentle kiss on her lips while her hand curled in his chest as his hands slide on her body to caress it reaching to massage her swollen bud hearing her moaning softly while her hips bucked against him pleading him to give her more, at the sensation her walls tightening slightly around him, he set a fast peace feeling his manhood throbbing painfully inside her closer to reach his pleasure at each roll, he gritted his teeth while he felt her nail clawing his back drawing blood his thrust errant and feverishly he pounded into her slamming the bedhead into the wall until he felt her walls flutter around him squeezing his cock covering it with her sweet juice, moaning softly at the sensation of his warm seed pouring into her.

Satisifed but tired they fell onto the bed, holding her close he kissed tenderly her forehead while she cradled into his chest with him hilted inside her before slowly he pulled away hearing a whimper escape her lips, he hugged her tightly caressing her hair as he stared into her eyes smiling tenderly at her, his gaze so full of love to make her melt shyly she hid her blush onto his chest nuzzling into it before leaving a soft affectionate kiss on his heart making him sigh content as he adjusted the blankets over them, slowly they drift asleep in each other arm tenderly engulfed in their blissful bubble of love.

[theclockworkmonk]

Out of the Mouths of Babes — Chapter 5

AO3 | FFN

Previous chapter on Tumblr

Written for Hinny Ficfest 2021

Prompt: “Uncle Ron said something about Harry knocking Ginny up, but I don’t know what he means,” Teddy said.

*******

Harry barely reacted in time to put up a Shield Charm before two Stunning Spells shot across the kitchen table at him and deflected up into the ceiling.

"WHAT THE FUCK!" Ginny and Ron shouted at the same time, Ron flailing and tipping over backward in his chair.

"I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!" Charlie screamed at Harry.

"Is he pressuring you into this?" Bill growled at Ginny.

"There is no reason to resort to something so drastic!" said Percy.

"And it's definitely not something to laugh about," said George.

Fleur was babbling a mile a minute in French, tears welling in her eyes and trying to get Victoire to stop crying.

Molly had collapsed into Arthur's arms and fainted.

"Have you lot all lost your minds!?" shouted Harry. "Why is it so important that I keep it?"

"What use do we have for it, anyway?" asked Ginny.

A second explosion of angry shouting erupted as all the Weasleys talked over each other.

"How in the WORLD is all this the appropriate response to Harry and Ginny living together!?" pleaded Hermione.

"THAT'S NOT — wait, they're living together!?" said Percy.

Hermione gasped and clapped her hand over her mouth.

"Oh please," George rolled his eyes, "Anyone with a brain already knew that."

"What!? Why didn't you say anything!" said Charlie, "We could have stopped this before it happened!"

"Gee, thanks, Hermione," growled Harry as she blushed harder.

"Then what the hell are all you gits talking about!?" barked Ginny loudly to cut through the cacophony of testosterone. "As annoying as you always are when treating me like an innocent girl, it makes more sense than getting upset about Harry's stupid Wizengamot seat!"

"Harry has a Wizengamot seat!?" asked Percy in awe.

"Don't get any ideas, Perce, Harry's taken," said George.

"Of course we're not talking about that!" said Molly, her voice shaking as she regained consciousness and stood up straight. "We're talking about the baby!"

Harry and Ginny looked sideways at Victoire.

"THE NEW BABY!" Molly shrieked, growing more exasperated.

"What, Hermione's baby?" asked Ginny.

Molly fainted again.

"Ex-CUSE me!?" cried Hermione as every head in the room spun to face her, Ron's turning a sickly shade of green.

"Oh...I shouldn't have eaten all those biscuits," Ron muttered fearfully, holding his stomach.

"Wait, Hermione's pregnant too?" asked Percy.

"No, I am not!" said Hermione forcefully.

"Wait, what do you mean 'too?'" asked Ginny. "Who else is pregnant?"

"THERE IS NO 'ELSE!' I AM NOT PREGNANT!" Hermione screamed. "Can we please establish that first?"

"Love, just calm down," said Ron softly, placing his hands gently on her shoulders. "It's okay, we can handle this. Why don't you just sit down…."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Ron, even if I were pregnant, if you start coddling me you'll regret it. Ginny, why the hell did you say that I'm pregnant?"

"Well she kept dropping hints left and right that someone was pregnant!" Ginny gestured wildly towards Fleur, who until now was doing a good job of avoiding the chaos, and blushed self-consciously when it was her turn to be the focus of all the anger.

"Ginny, just stop it!" Fleur lashed out. "I was trying to encourage you to come clean!"

"...Me?"

"Ginny, we know about the baby," said Arthur calmly. "We've known for days."

About a dozen different emotions collided violently inside Harry. He couldn't imagine what the expression on his face might look like. He slowly turned on the spot towards Ginny.

"I'm sure you're about to say something all noble and comforting," said Ginny dryly. "But you don't have to be that good of a boyfriend yet. No, I'm not pregnant."

"I applaud your performance, Gin-Gin," said George, "but nothing stays secret for long in this family." He jerked his head toward Ron.

"Wha—Why are you jerking your head towards me, don't jerk your head towards me!" Ron panicked.

"Why is he jerking his head towards you, Ron?" Ginny seethed.

"Hell if I know!" Ron said defensively. "Don't get your knickers in a twist, this is the first I've heard of any new babies!"

"Sorry, Ronniekins, but you spilled the beans to Teddy, and he sold you out," said George.

"You told Teddy that I'm pregnant!?" Ron flinched as Ginny smacked his arm.

"Using much more vulgar language," Molly whimpered, still trembling and desperately clutching onto Arthur for support.

"I did not tell Teddy that you're pregnant!" Ron spoke up. "I never even—"

He stopped speaking and his eyes bulged out. He and Hermione faced each other, realization dawning on their faces.

Ron's voice is small. "...Oh—Ow! Ow! Ow! Stop it!" he cowered as Hermione started furiously hitting him.

"You — complete — idiot Ronald Weasley!" she shouted with each hit.

Ginny's older brothers were looking far too pleased with themselves for her taste.

"Okay, so can we stop this charade now?" asked Bill.

"Okay, I don't know what this latest domestic incident is about," said Ginny, pointing at the sparring couple, "I just know that I'm not pregnant."

"Teddy heard Ron saying that Harry had knocked you up!" said Charlie.

"No….but I might have said that it was likely that he would knock her up."

Harry gaped at him. "Why were you discussing me knocking up Ginny at all!?" he demanded, as he physically restrained Ginny from attacking Ron.

"Because you both were being so bloody shameless!" Ron shouted back. "It's enough to drive anyone mental! Don't try to annoy your brother by having no self-control and then get mad when he says you have no self control!"

"I want the record to show that I did not partake in this line of reasoning and told him he was being ridiculous," said Hermione.

"Thanks for the support, Love," said Ron.

Bill, Charlie, and Percy all seemed to have deflated like balloons. Their faces matched their hair and they were looking anywhere but Ginny's furious face.

"Well...erm…." said Charlie, trying to keep his face stern, "Ron's right, you should still—"

"Oh, do not try to still chest-beat after you've all been exposed as idiots!" Ginny hissed. "You've all been absolutely terrible to Harry and me based on what a toddler overheard!"

"She is right," Fleur scolded her husband, rejoining the row now that she had calmed Victoire down, "If you zink zat she is pregnant, you should not start fights to stress 'er out! Shame on you!" Bill hung his head.

"You know, I really don't think that trying to manipulate Ginny into talking about it is much better," said Harry flatly, "You all need to mind your own business!"

"Yes, don't think I'm going to forget this any time soon!" Ginny waved a threatening finger at all of them. "Not only treating me like an idiot child who's been taken advantage of, but actually thinking we're stupid and reckless enough to unintentionally get pregnant in the first place!"

"See, Molly dear?" Arthur told his wife gently, "it was all just a misunderstanding." He had guided her into a chair and was trying to calm her down. Her breathing was quick and shallow and her eyes were darting around madly.

"...No. No, it all fit…" she shook her head violently, "They're covering it up. You need to tell the truth, Ginny!"

It was clear that there was no reasoning with her, she had become delirious by now from all the chaos and panic.

Ginny groaned. "All right, you want to settle this? Fine, let's settle this." And without another word, she marched out of the kitchen into the sitting room, threw some floo powder into the fireplace, called out "Diagon Alley!" and disappeared into the flames.

The kitchen was finally quiet for the next few minutes as Molly's breathing slowly but surely slowed down to merely anxious instead of an outright panic attack. Bill and Fleur were bickering quietly in French, while Hermione silently gave Ron her best "I told you so" look for not watching what he said around Teddy.

After what felt like an eternity, the fireplace roared to life again and Ginny marched back into the kitchen, dusting soot off her clothes.

"Where did you go?" asked Harry.

She held up a vial of clear liquid. "Apothecary," she said shortly. The unique shape of the bottle was instantly recognizable.

"Oh, well that's just great," said Ron tiredly. "Harry Potter's girlfriend hastily buying a pregnancy test potion, I'm sure that won't be in the headlines tomorrow."

Ginny ignored him as she skimmed over the card that came attached to the potion. "Okay, yeah, blue for boy, pink for girl, white for not pregnant."

She uncorked the flask, set it down on the table, used her wand to cut off a single strand of her hair, and lowered it into the solution. The clear, colorless contents of the bottle instantly started bubbling furiously.

"See?" Ginny barked furiously, "So, now that we've gotten this circus over with, I would greatly appreciate it if you gits kindly butted the hell out of my love life, and we can all….just….move….on…."

Her voice trailed off into nothing as her eyes remained locked on the vial on the table.

Which was now a bright, vibrant blue.

[fandomdancer]

Timeskip

((A/N: In an earlier post, I mentioned I wrote three and a quarter pages. This is what I wrote. It's the first scene I've done for a fanfiction that I may or may not continue. Maybe you can let me know if you like it? Or not.

Anyway, this is World of Warcraft, OC / OC romance in canon happenings.

As the citizens of Suramar celebrate the defeat of Elisande and the Burning Legion, one rogue searches for a lost love whose face he glimpsed in the battle.))

Darond pushed his way through the cheering throngs, not caring about the spills of wine or injured toes he left in his wake. He had no desire to be silent and stealthy now. His eyes swept back and forth over the multitude before him, distinguishing Tauren from Worgen, Troll from Night Elf, Human from Orc, and struggling to make out the expressions of the Nightborne scattered amongst them all. The roar of the celebrating crowd drowned out any attempts at calling for someone, but he tried anyway, projecting his deep voice as well as he could.

“Pelarde!”

A few heads turned in his direction. He read mostly curiosity and calculation on the faces, wondering what the fuss was about before dismissing him as a threat or as someone who could be helped. But the thin, handsome face of his target did not appear.

He kept going, running straight into a group of gathered nobles, most of whom sniffed at him and swished their robes out of the way of his bare, dirty feet. He paid them no mind, seeing another group up ahead that was more distinguishable. Khadgar was deep in conversation with First Arcanist Thalyssra and High Priestess Tyrande Whisperwind and all three of them looked suspiciously unsettled despite the victory achieved today.

Elisande deposed. An end to a reign of tyranny influenced by the Burning Legion. He knew he should be celebrating. But not yet. Not until he found Pelarde.

Khadgar instantly put on a neutral-friendly face as Darond raced up to them. “Hello there. What can we do for you?”

“I’m looking for Pelarde Tarronthu,” Darond gasped. Far from out of breath, it was simply the panic and adrenaline coursing through his veins that crushed his lungs. He’d seen Pelarde, seen him for the first time in years, during the fight with Elisande. He had seen him take a hit of her magic and go down in a mess of purple and white and before he had been able to run to him, more elementals had attacked and he had lost his position. But as the battlefield cleared and the cheering began, Darond had not found him among the dead.

Nor had he found him among the living.

Thalyssra tilted her head, the elegant Nightborne woman regarding him with a mixture of curiosity and concern. “Is he in danger?”

“I don’t know. He was with us in the Nighthold…I saw him get hurt, but I haven’t found him since…”

“The medical tents are all there…” Tyrande began to point, but Darond hastily bowed.

“High Priestess, I have checked there many times. He…I would know him, even amongst the disfigured…” He trailed off at the knowing look that crossed Thalyssra’s face. Tyrande’s expression softened as well, and the High Priestess gave a long, determined look at the crowds. He could hardly dream that the leader of the Night Elves would know the face of a Nightborne on sight, but there had been a specific number of people who had been a part of the insurrection from the beginning. Perhaps Pelarde had been one.

Then he saw the faint glow around Tyrande, and realized she was asking for Elune’s aid. Touched by the gesture, he bowed again, deeply, whispering: “Thank you, High Priestess.”

Footsteps brought him around, his expression hopeful, but it drained away when he saw who it was. His mentor, a Human named Adamthos, approached the group with his usual quiet demeanor.

“Is something wrong?” Adamthos asked, his melodic voice soft and yet easily heard above the crowd.

“Pelarde Tarronthu,” Tyrande said. “Have you heard of him?”

“I haven’t,” Adamthos replied thoughtfully, “but his brother is a member of SI:7.”

Darond blinked in shock. “What?” He had never heard the last name Tarronthu in the ranks of the Alliance’s greatest rogues’ guild.

Adamthos smiled. “He’s new. Jeris. Come on, I’ll take you to him.”

Bowing quickly to Tyrande, Darond followed his mentor through the crowds that seemed to melt away as they walked. Adamthos’ gentle power and influence was well-known, and Darond saw more than a few citizens raise hands and glasses to him, saluting as he went by. The older rogue gave them all thin-lipped smiles that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

They approached another group gathered near one of the grander pavilions of Suramar. The revelry was much more diminished here, a more subtle and subdued celebration taking place. Darond recognized several faces: Vanessa VanCleef, Tess Greymane, Mathias Shaw, and of course their bearded leader Jorach Ravenholdt. And…

“Pelarde!” Ignoring Adamthos’s hand, Darond bounded over to the black-clothed figure talking softly with Taoshi. The two rogues spun immediately to face him, and Darond froze. What he had thought was Pelarde’s long white-violet hair was just a decoration on the wall of the pavilion. The Nightborne that stared back at him now had Pelarde’s angular face, bright eyes, precise cheekbones, and long, lanky figure. But the similarities ended there. The elf’s head was bald, bereft of any silver jewelry, and while the face was a twin, it was lined and scarred in ways Pelarde's had never been.

“You don’t know where he is either, do you?” the Nightborne asked in a voice that could have been Pelarde’s, if it hadn’t been so gruff.

“You look just like him,” Darond said, knowing it was a stupid response and yet unable to say anything else. It made his heart ache, seeing this almost-Pelarde in front of him.

Jeris’s brow furrowed in anger for a moment, and then softened. Next to him, Taoshi melted away, recognizing the need for a little privacy.

“I haven’t seen my brother in days,” Jeris said quietly. “I knew he was helping breach the Sanctum. They put him right in the thick of the action…he was so determined to be of help, but he’s a mage, for Nightwell’s sake. And a young one at that.”

“He was at the Nighthold. He fought against Elisande. He was injured…but I haven’t been able to find him since…”

Jeris’s eyes widened. “Injured?”

“Magic.” Darond blinked, trying to clear the image of Pelarde’s still body before the elementals had filled his vision. “He was unconscious, I think…”

“Oh, you’re not going to find him.”

The voice delivering the news was inappropriately cheerful, and both Jeris and Darond spun towards it. It took them almost a full two seconds to realize that everything around them had gone completely silent. Even moreso, many of the gathered rogues were mid-sentence and yet still…mouths half open, drinks paused in mid pour, even the sparkling motes of light that filled Suramar’s dusky air twinkled like frozen stars.

A cheerful gnome toddled out of the pavilion towards the two of them, her eyes wide and older than the sands of Uldum but her figure, face, and smile young and impishly bright. Her presence filled the air around them, making Darond unconsciously brush invisible grains of sand from his shoulders and take in deeper breaths.

“Who are you?” Jeris demanded.

“I’m Chromie!” The gnome grinned at him. “Chronormu, really, but there’s no need to get into all of that right now.” She turned to Darond, who was beginning to hyperventilate, and began to look concerned. Then, in the blink of an eye, she was back to smiling. “Oh right, of course…don’t worry, Darond. You won’t be afraid of time forever.”

Darond struggled to think past the fog in his brain. He recognized Chromie, who and what she was, and thus understood why time around them had stopped. But the memory of Elisande’s attacks…her rewinding time to hit them again and again…Pelarde’s body on the ground…

“It’ll be some time before you see him again. I think.”

“What?” Jeris’s hand went to his dagger and Darond reached out quickly to stop him. Not that it would matter…he wouldn’t be able to scratch Chromie with a fingernail, much less actually sink a dagger into her tiny form. He slowly began to realize that Jeris didn’t actually know what Chromie was…or didn’t care.

Chromie heaved a sigh and sat down. “Explaining time can be so hard sometimes!” She pointed at Jeris. “Your brother has been moved to another timeway. Temporarily. He’ll be back before you know it.”

“Why?”

Chromie blinked. “Because.”

Jeris drew his dagger despite the pressure of Darond’s grip. Darond was slowly beginning to get his breath back, and the realization that this little creature knew where…when…Pelarde was made his anxiety ease, bit by bit.

“Because why?” Jeris pressed.

“Because…TIME!” Chromie tossed her hands in the air. “I don’t make the rules, I just follow them! Time says Pelarde goes there, there he goes, and he comes back when he’s done!”

“He is my brother,” Jeris growled. “And if you’re following some rule that made you send him someplace, then you’re going to do the same thing for me or I swear, I will..”

Jeris abruptly froze, his threat hanging in the air, the anger in his eyes burning even though the rest of him gave no indication of motion. Darond blinked a couple of time before realizing what had happened, and he looked anxiously at Chromie. “He’s…”

“…scared, I know. Just like you. But remember…if I don’t follow the rules, you won’t even know who Pelarde is.” Chromie winked. “Don’t worry, Darond. You’ll see him again.” She stood up and headed back into the pavilion. Just before becoming enshrouded in the darkness within, she glanced over her shoulder. “Unless, you know, he dies.”