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theladyofdeath · 4 years

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The Ranch {1}

An A Court of Thorns and Roses, Nesta x Cassian, Modern AU, fanfiction.

Collaboration: @throne-of-ashes-and-beauty x @tacmc

Summary: Nesta had spent years in Paris, living her dream and drowning in riches as a gourmet chef, capturing the hearts of the city and its people. But, after her father passes away unexpectedly and leaves his cozy, countryside B&B to his oldest daughter, Nesta is moving back home to the tiny town of Velaris, where the ranch, her sisters, and her father’s unfulfilled dream, awaits.

Sidenote: Being posted between two blogs, it is too chaotic to keep up with a tags list, so all chapters will be tagged with “#TheRanchNessian” & “#SharaCollab”.

A/N: Shelby and I have been writing this for MONTHS and we are so excited to start sharing it with you all! As always, let us know what you think, and enjoy. :) We will be going back & forth posting chapters, so look for chapter 2 on her blog!

The Ranch Masterlist

Nesta knew absolutely nothing about ranching.

Even worse, she felt absolutely nothing as she got out of her little red car and stepped onto the dirt path that led to the house.

She had grown up on this ranch, had run around and had adventures with her sisters in these pastures. Yet, as she took in everything she had inherited, she felt nothing.

She hadn’t been to the ranch in years, not since her mother died when she was eighteen. Now, almost a decade later, it was all foreign. It used to look so lively and magical during her childhood, but now it was nothing more than an old, big house built upon a huge chunk of land full of cattle.

Nesta hated cows. They smelled horrible.

She started walking up the path to her childhood home, when she saw the faded, peeling sign in the yard.

Belles & Blossoms Bed and Breakfast

The restraint Nesta used not to roll her eyes was only thanks to the fact that she was well-rested from her stay in Velaris’ newest hotel, the Manor House. The five-star hotel was supposed to be a hotel and spa, but it was more of a resort than anything. After her flight had landed, she had treated herself to a nice dinner and a massage and facial. The stress of knowing she had to come here had been wreaking havoc on her nerves and the special treatment was exactly what she needed.

But now that she was here, now that she was standing in front of the place she’d fought so hard to get out of, she wanted to turn around and check back into her room. Instead, she walked up the stairs, swiped the key from the underside of the rocking chair - where it had always been - and let herself into the house.

The first thing she noticed was the heat. There was a definite breeze coming from the vents, but the air was by no means cool. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, hoping this was not going to be an indication of how this all would go.

It looked exactly like she remembered, not a single thing having changed. The leather furniture was still prominently featured in every room, the rodeo memorabilia hanging on every wall. She sighed as she walked into the kitchen and to the sink, gazing out the window. She could see the house her father had built on the property a few years back. It had stayed mostly empty, as her father had opted to still live in the old farmhouse.

She would not though, she would move into the modern house on the back of the property, close enough to still be there for her guests, but far enough that she could have privacy if it was ever needed.

Nesta didn’t anticipate it would though.

Her own sisters didn’t even know she was back in town. It had been years since she’d spoken to Feyre and Elain and her texted occasionally, but Nesta knew nothing of their personal lives and they knew none of hers.

Nesta hadn’t even come to her own father’s funeral.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to. But she couldn’t.

Quickly, she made her way through the rest of the house, cataloging what she saw in her head and already thinking about what changes she would make. When she got to her old bedroom, she paused, lingering in the doorway as she took in how it was the only room in the house that didn’t match the style of the rest.

No, Nesta had never cared for the rodeo lifestyle her father grew up in. Her sisters tolerated it, but just like her mother, Nesta couldn’t stand it.

The walls were still the deep grey she’d painted them, covering up the awful wallpaper featuring ropes and steers. The furniture was elegant and simply stated, dark wood with sleek lines.

There were no blinds on the windows, leaving the view down to the river uninhibited.

Nesta smiled, feeling a bit of pride as she took in how good her room looked in comparison to the rest of the house. She also let out a breath of relief as she realized it was one less room she’d have to redecorate.

She would do the rest later. Being back was beginning to take its toll. Nesta hurried back out the front door and hopped in her car, driving it further down the old dirt road. Nesta used to love the scenery. There were trees scattered across the landscape, trees that Nesta used to sit underneath in the spring and summer and read her books. Her father used to ask her to help out around the ranch, but Nesta was never interested in ranching. Her sisters helped him, always, and that seemed to be good enough for him.

Nesta pulled up to the little house her father had built and turned off her car. For a moment, she just sat in the quiet, staring at the little house.

It was cute, even on the outside. There was a little porch with one old rocking chair. The door had been painted red, and Nesta smiled, remembering it was her mother’s favorite color.

Once she got out, she opened the trunk and pulled out her bags. Much like the main house, the key was underneath the rocking chair. She let herself in and froze.

It was practically empty.

Her father really hadn’t spent much time in there. But why would he? He loved the main house, loved interacting with the guests that would stay there once he turned it into a bed and breakfast.

Besides, it was the home they had lived in as a family. As much as Nesta wanted to get away from the ranch, her father had always taken pride in his family.

Nesta included.

Which was why he left the ranch for his firstborn, she assumed.

Nesta walked through the empty living room and into the back bedroom, where a simple, bare, full-sized bed sat opposite of a wooden dresser. Other than that, a mirror hung on the wall as the single piece of decor.

Nesta tossed her bags on the mattress before finding her way into the bathroom. There was a shower with no curtain, a sink with no soap, and a toilet with no toilet paper.

At least the place was decently clean.

After rummaging through her bag and changing into jean shorts and a t-shirt, Nesta found herself in the kitchen, finding it - shockingly - empty before making a serious mental note to go to the store before the day was over. Sheets, soap, shower curtain, shampoo, food…

She needed it all.

Before she could feel even more overwhelmed, she found herself on the front porch and breathed in the fresh air. It was then that she noticed the little log cabin sitting on the other side of the dirt road.

There had been a ranch hand, hired by her father, when Nesta was little that used to live in that cabin. She couldn’t remember his name, but she remembered his smile. He was a kind, older man who had passed away before Nesta turned ten.

Promising she’d revamp the little log cabin after taking on the main house, she slipped on her tennis shoes and walked back up the dirt road.

She could hear the cows in the distant field and supposed she would have to hire a new ranch hand if she were to keep the ranch going. She sure as hell didn’t know what to do.

Jogging up the stairs, Nesta let herself back in and paused in the entryway, trying to decide what her plan of attack should be. She could clean first, but then when she decided what should stay or go, she’ll just discover more dirt and dust. Or she could start a throwaway pile, but that would definitely stir up the dust.

Nesta groaned and dropped her head in her hands. When she’d first gotten the phone call from her father’s lawyer, letting her know that he’d left the B&B to her, she didn’t even want it. She started looking into what she needed to do and how much she could sell it for, house, land, and business. It had been a decade since she left and she hadn’t looked back once. Why would she now?

She’d found early success in the culinary arts. She studied in Miami, New York, Paris, Rome. She traveled the world. Her father couldn’t really expect her to give all that up, to give up her life, to come back to the town she grew up in, and run the bed and breakfast he started after she got out.

But he did. He trusted her with his dream and with his ranch.

And so she found herself back in Velaris, in the middle of summer, in a house with limited air conditioning, scrubbing the antique baseboards on her hands and knees. After she’d completed the living room, the molding a wholly different color than when she started, she stood and wiped the sweat from her forehead. She fanned herself and looked at her watch.

Only 10:45 in the morning and it was already pushing 85° outside. Nesta quickly realized she’d need to get someone out to work on the air conditioning unit as quickly as possible, and went to the kitchen to grab a bottled water from the fridge.

As she walked through the house, she quickly opened up her browser and looked up a number for a local company that could hopefully get to her quickly. She found one that could work on HVAC and plumbing, and decided to have a once overdone on the entire house. She selected the number and hit send, putting the phone to her ear and opening the fridge.

Nesta hung up the phone, slammed the fridge shut and gagged all in the same second.

Apparently, in the past four weeks, the fridge had gone out. Everything inside had gone bad and though she was used to working in a kitchen, she had never smelled anything so foul in her life.

Nesta has already planned on replacing the fridge, and every other appliance, in the outdated kitchen, so she wasn’t too upset. Just frustrated that would have to be handled so soon. She put the phone down on the counter and tied her hair back in a ponytail.

Air conditioner would have to wait. This fridge had to go.

She sized the thing up, eyeing it from top to bottom. Maybe there was a dolly out in the shed she could use to push it out the back door. It was smaller than an average refrigerator, after all. What could go wrong?

She reached back behind it to make sure everything was unplugged. Then, she slowly took everything out one by one, tossing it a giant black garbage bag she had found in the cabinet.

Nesta was so focused on what she was doing, she didn’t hear the back door open and shut.

“There’s a six pack in there. Hopefully you didn’t throw that out, too.”

Nesta jumped, nearly hitting her head on the open freezer door. “Fuck!” She turned around, and froze. “Who the hell are you?”

He stood there, hair loose around his shoulders, sweat gleaming across his bare, inked chest. He had on filthy boots, covered in the gods knew what, as he stepped into the kitchen.

“I’m wondering the same thing.” The man leaned his hip against the counter that ended at the back door. “Can I help you with something?”

Nesta just blinked, staring at the man, trying to decide if her day could get any more strange. “You can help by getting the hell out before I call the police.” She grabbed her phone, hoping that he knew she was serious. “Have you ever heard of knocking? Trespassing? Or do you always just let yourself into random womens’ back doors?”

The man didn’t try to hide his gaze as he let it drag down her body and settled it on her ass. “Hmm.” He crossed his arms and focused his attention back on her face. “Usually, I like to have dinner with a woman before I ask her to let me in her back door, but I guess if you want to be so direct about it.”

Nesta’s mouth dropped open and she unlocked her phone, giving it her attention. “I’m calling the police.”

“Good,” the man said, pulling a kitchen chair out from the table and sitting down. “I can’t wait for them to get here and arrest your ass.”

Her finger froze where it hovered over the green button. “Me? Arrest me?” She started to laugh.

“Sweetheart, I don’t know what you think is so funny, but I’ve been here every single day for the last eight years, I’ve never seen you in this house once.” He leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees. “Now, I’ll ask one more time. Can I help you with something?”

Every single day for the last eight years.

“My name is Nesta,” she said, standing a little straighter. “I’m Isaac Archeron’s daughter.”

The man only stared at her, blinking every couple of seconds. “I’m sorry, you said that you were Nesta?”

She nodded.

“You’re kidding me,” he chuckled, standing up. “He left it to you? Really?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Why is that so surprising?”

“Because I’ve met Isaac’s daughters. You know, the ones that have been in his life in the last decade.” He walked toward her and reached past her shoulder to one of the beers that sat in the door of the fridge. He popped it open and took a long, slow drink before saying, “You weren’t one of them.”

He didn’t move from where he stood less than a foot in front of her. He was massive, but Nesta didn’t cower from his size, although it took everything in her to look up and meet his humored gaze instead of staring straight ahead at his chest.

“Now that you know who I am, I suggest you tell me who you are,” was all she said, not giving him the satisfaction of a response to his jab.

He grinned, taking another drink before introducing himself. “Cassian. I’ve worked for your dad for-.”

“Eight years, yeah, I got that,” Nesta interrupted. “You take care of the herd?”

He nodded. “And nearly everything else. Used to work alongside Isaac, but did everything pretty much myself once he took a turn for the worse.”

Took a turn for the worse.

Nesta tried to pretend like the words hadn’t punched her in the gut.

“I see. And do you live here?” Nesta asked, gesturing to the house around them. “If so, you’ve done a shitty job keeping the place up.”

“No,” he said, finally turning his back to her to resume his spot in his chair. “I live in the old log cabin. This house has been neglected for the most part since your dad took-“

“A turn for the worse?” Nesta finished for him. “Yeah, got it.”

“Do you like to finish people’s sentences?” He asked, brow raised. “I’m sensing a theme.”

Nesta ignored him, closing her eyes and sighing. “I’m not sure what my father was paying you but-.”

“He wasn’t,” Cassian interrupted, taking a page from her own book and cutting her off. He finished what was left of the warm beer and threw it across the kitchen into the trash can. It went in with precise accuracy. “What I mean is, he hasn’t been. We came to an agreement at the end of my third summer here, when money was getting tighter. He knew he couldn’t run this place without a ranch hand, but he couldn’t afford to pay me. So he gave me the cabin, signed it over to me. Deed is in my name,” he said, seeing the look on Nesta’s face. “All of my utilities are covered by the B&B. I don’t pay a dime for that house. In return, I do whatever needs to be done on these twenty acres.”

Nesta stared at him, trying to decide if the man - Cassian, he’d said - was trying to deceive her or if he was being genuine. She may not know him, but when it came down to it, she knew her father, and she knew that letting him live for free on their family land is exactly something he would do. “How do you make money then? How do you afford to eat and buy clothes and other necessities?”

“I have other ways to make money, don’t worry about that,” he said, standing and brushing dried mud off of his jeans. He didn’t give her much more time to ask questions as he stood and headed for the door. “I’ll come by and fix the AC later on this afternoon. I have to go into town for feed so I’ll pick up the part I need then.” He was out the back door and his heavy boots were clomping down the wooden stairs.

Nesta ran after him, flinging the door open. “You knew the air conditioning was out? Why haven’t you fixed it already?”

Cassian turned around and looked at her. “I just told you that I don’t technically get paid for the work that I do. My boss, your father, was the one who paid the bills here. It’s been over four weeks since the electric bill was paid and I was trying to keep this place up and running as long as I could with what little money I had saved.” As he passed through the gate that led out to the pasture and the horse stalls, he grabbed a sweat-soaked t-shirt that was draped over the fence and tossed it over his shoulder. He continued to walk backward as he finished explaining himself. “I knew we weren’t going to have many guests in the B&B any time soon and decided that feeding the living creatures that live here was more important than cooling the empty house.”

Nesta watched him walk away. Once he disappeared into the shed, she turned around and went back inside.

Every ounce of anger and frustration had left her. Suddenly, she was feeling empty. Cassian had spent the last eight years with her father, her sisters, working this land and making a home here.

She shook the thoughts away as she tossed the rest of his warm beer cans into her garbage bag.

_____________________________

Nesta had decided to commit the rest of her day to making the little house she now occupied feel a little more homey. She’d gone to the store to pick up a few decor items and some food, along with sheets and a shower curtain.

However, when she pulled back into the driveway, a silver truck was pulled up in front of the main house.

Elain was sitting in a rocking chair on the front porch.

Nesta couldn’t help but smile as she got out. She hadn’t even reached the steps before Elain was running into her arms.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming!” She said, holding her older sister tight. “Cassian texted me.”

“Ah, the rude cow wrangler,” Nesta muttered. “Joy.”

“He’s great,” Elain said, smile fading.

Nesta cleared her throat. “Sorry I didn't let you know I was coming. It…all happened so fast.”

Elain shook her head. “I’m just glad you’re here. Gods, I missed you.”

There was a time when she and Elain had been really close. Leaving her was much harder than leaving Feyre and Isaac. But, Elain was destined to stay in Velaris forever, and Nesta didn’t want that.

Yet, she managed to end up in the damn town, anyway.

Elain got in the passenger seat of Nesta’s car and they headed down to the new house. Nesta began pulling the bags out of her back seat and Elain, helping her carry them up the porch stairs, asked what all she’d bought.

“Everything,” Nesta laughed, pausing to unlock the door, but finding it already open. “Dad didn’t have anything in here, so I figured I’d at least-.”

Nesta froze as she stepped through the threshold, the bags falling to the floor. There was something that sounded far too similar to glass breaking for Elain’s liking, but Nesta didn’t seem to notice as she breathed, “Where did all of this come from?”

Where there had only been open space earlier, there was now furniture. A couch and entertainment center took up the living room area, and a small breakfast nook now sat in the corner by the kitchen.

“It was mine before I moved in with Azriel,” Elain said, an amused lilt to her voice. “Why do you think I’m in his truck?”

“Elain, I can’t- this is-.” She stopped and swallowed hard, turning to look at her sister. “Thank you.”

Elain just smiled. “It was in storage. I’d rather you be using it than gathering dust in our garage.”

Nesta nodded, slowly, unsure of what to say. “So… Still with Azriel, huh? Moved in together?”

“Yeah, I think he’s going to propose soon,” Elain said, brown eyes lighting up with pure adoration. “I can’t wait.”

“That’s great,” Nesta said, and she meant it, although it didn’t sound like it. She was still in shock. Overwhelmed. She was so incredibly overwhelmed.

“I told Feyre you’re here,” Elain said, sitting on the couch in the little living room. “She said she’ll try to stop by soon.”

Nesta knew it was a lie, but she forced herself to smile. “Great.”

Her and Feyre hadn’t talked since she left. Nesta was eighteen. Feyre was only fifteen, and she refused to understand how Nesta could just take off after they’d just lost their mother.

And Nesta had never attempted to explain her reasoning to her youngest sister.

To anyone.

“So,” Elain began, once the silence became too much. “What plans do you have for this place? Dad, obviously, thought you could bring it back to life. You’ve always had an eye for such things.”

Nesta snorted. “We both know that’s not true. Dad only left this place to me because I’m the oldest. And why don’t you ask me the question you really want to ask?”

Elain attempted to look confused, but failed.

“Don’t bullshit me,” Nesta chuckled. “And don’t worry. No, I’m not selling it. I thought about it. But…” Nesta shrugged. “Dad trusted me enough, for some damn reason, to leave it to me. And we grew up here. I know you all think I’m a heartless bitch, but I’m not that heartless.”

“We don’t think you’re a heartless bitch…” Elain trailed off.

“Just a bitch?” Nesta laughed, sitting next to her and propping her feet up on the small coffee table.

“Shut up,” Elain said, bumping her with her shoulder. Nesta gently shoved her back and Elain laughed, resting her head on her sister’s shoulder. Nesta leaned her own head atop her sister’s. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too, Lainy.” Nesta smiled. Using the old childhood nickname Elain had hated felt too easy and when she heard her sister groan, she knew she’d hit her mark.

Elain stood. “I should go. I told Az I was running the stuff over here and then I’d be back home. That was almost two hours ago.”

“You did this all by yourself?” Nesta was shocked looking at the furniture around her. It was nice, a good, sturdy quality. It wasn’t cheap by any means, and thanks to that, it didn’t seem light. Nesta imagined her gentle sweet sister trying to get the couch she currently sat on through the door by herself.

Elain laughed and said, “Cauldron, no! I can barely lift the coffee table by myself. Cassian helped me.”

“Cassian?” Nesta lifted a brow.

“Yeah, the rude cow wrangler, remember?”

Nesta scoffed. “No, I know his name, it’s just…” That was nice of him. Was his shirt still off? “Why didn’t Azriel come to help?”

“He’s at work. Just started a new job in town at the dealership. Mechanic. Works on the tractors and whatnot.”

Nesta didn’t know much about Azriel, only what Elain had told her of him. Although, if she remembered right, they all went to the same high school.

She didn’t care, though. All she cared about is that this Azriel treated her sweet Elain the way she deserved to be treated, and judging by the light in her eyes when she spoke of him, she knew that he was.

“He said you two got off to kind of a rough start,” Elain said, stopping just in front of the front door.

“Azriel?” Nesta asked, genuinely confused.

Elain giggled. “No, Cassian. He really is a good guy, okay? Give him the benefit of the doubt, I know you don’t trust people easily. But dad trusted him with everything and he’s been around for a while. He’s the best ranch hand you’re going to get for this place. He loves it like it's his own.”

Nesta just huffed.

“Anyway,” Elain went on, showing herself out. “How about we all get together for dinner tomorrow night? We can go anywhere, your choice.”

“Who is all?”

Elain shrugged. “Me and Azriel? I’ll see if Feyre wants to come. Maybe even ask Cassian-.”

“I don’t think-.”

“I’m glad you’re back,” Elain said, smile bright, cutting off her sister’s protests.

With that, Nesta watched as her sister walked back up the dirt road toward the main house.

Huffing out a breath, Nesta turned and looked at her new home. It wasn’t much, just a bedroom and a couch and a bathroom, but it was home. She’d make it hers.

Just like the main house and just like the bed and breakfast. She’d make them something she could be proud of.

And so, as the sun went down, Nesta got to work.

#TheRanchNessian #SharaCollab #nessian #fanfic #fanfiction #modern au #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #nesta #cassian

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miqojak · 4 years

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Wish

(( In which @ketsuchikotetsu inspired a bevy of emotions Jak doesn’t really know how to process, so of course she handled it in the weirdest/kind of endearing way possible.))

His words sting - though, perhaps, not for the reasons he wants them to - I’ve touched a wound, and it’s only natural that he’d snarl and snap. I don’t know, really, how the topic came about, but we end up here, again. The way he speaks of himself hurts me, though - it’s like a gut-punch that takes my breath away. He’d rather forgo any attempt at happiness, and moving forward, and just...stagnate until death claims him. He’d rather sit and punish himself for matters long since beyond his control, than even attempt a single step forward, at risk of having it all stripped away yet again.

It hurts me...and yet, who knows that feeling better than I do?

It’s not as though I don’t know the taste of his grief; I may never have held a lover as close as he held his late wife - after all, it’s not like I’ve had that many - but I lost all of my immediate family, save one, at the hands of the Garleans. Slowly, and painfully, at that. I know what it is to spend every single day punishing yourself; I know what it is to beg death to take you next; to demand of the world to know why you lived, and not them; to devote yourself to your family...and have absolutely nothing left to show for it in the end as they’re ripped away from you.

But I also know that...he helped me drag my head above water, and see that there’s more than just pain...if I let myself do so. The twisted irony of it is coming to care for the man who won’t let me care for him - who refuses to live, in the shadow of death.

We have to try, don’t we? To live, because the others didn’t get to.

He leaves me reeling - working hard to steady my breath, with an oncoming headache from the slammed door, and withheld grief that stings my eyes. I’m not much better off emotionally, than he is. I’m just...afraid of wasting a life that I feel like I only have at the expense of others. If they died, and I lived, I have the responsibility to do something with it, right?

I don’t know what to do with myself, and my chest hurts - I’m angry. I’m mad at him, for refusing to take even the first step. I’m mad at her, for leaving him - strange as it may sound, for one who’s grown to care for him as much as I have. I’m mad at me, for not knowing what to do for him; at the sheep, who sleep soundly in their pens knowing nothing of the grief that the two of us wrestle with every moment of every day.

I find myself on the doorstep of a flower shop, in the Lavender Beds - it’s what he and his wife had planned on, right? Settling down into something like this, before that flame of hers flickered out too soon. I don’t know...why, but I just...it seemed right. I don’t even know her name, but I don’t need to, really. She meant everything to him, and still does - and the genuine sorrow writ on his features when he speaks of her death...

I don’t know what to do with this grief...for me, or for him. So I fumble around the shop, feeling more the fool with every second that passes...I hate flowers, really. They’ve never been my thing - beautiful for a heartbeat, but they’re wilted and dead before a day is out.

It’s not really about me, right now, though.

I’m a bit overwhelmed - by the colors, the smells, and the variety of flowers in all shapes and sizes. The Lalafell that runs the shop asks if I need any help, and I stare down at her blankly - the silence stretching on a bit too long, and I begin to feel more and more as though I don’t belong here. I feel like this little woman can tell I don’t belong in this place, like an ugly, red blemish. I can likewise tell that this compulsory grief won’t give me long, so I mutter something vague and tell her it’s fine - I’ll take these purple ones here, and it’s okay, I can get them myself. It’s a spur of the moment decision...but purple seems right. It’s his color, after all. She’d probably appreciate that...but who knows? It’s the thought, right? I hurriedly pay the little woman, red in the face the whole while, and carry the bouquet from the shop as if it were an infant - carefully, gently...awkwardly, as if I might crush it if I’m not hyper-aware of its existence in my grip.

It takes some time to find a suitable spot - the moon high overhead before I settle in beneath half a towering, over-turned log. It’s heavy, grief. Heavy enough that even my paranoia, and fear of the forest, is forgotten, this night.

“I was going to go to the burial mounds, but...that seems too...clean. Too boring for you or me.” I feel small, here - with the night sky full of diamonds, stretching on forever, alongside towering trees that would make even a Roe feel like an ant. I feel a bit silly, talking to no one, but from what he’s told me...and from what I’ve gathered from her decor left behind in his home...she’d have liked it around here. It’s peaceful - even a desert-dweller like me can admit to a serenity that steals over you in the night’s chorus of insects, burbling of water, and the general ambient sounds a forest makes as parts of it fall asleep, and other parts only just begin to awaken.

“I don’t really know what to do for him...or me, if I’m honest. It’s hard to argue with him, and tell him he’s wrong for not wanting to have such a hurt again; for refusing to budge from the bottom of such a deep well of grief. How can I, who’s not even out of the same seemingly bottomless pit, hope to shine a light in darkness that feels like it goes on forever? He helped me up, but won’t take a hand up, himself, so what is there to do?”

No response comes, save for the far away crack of wood, as the forest settles in for the night.

“I miss my mother’s strength, and my father’s wisdom. I miss my sisters’ laughter. I miss racing across the desert sands, and laughing in the heat of a bonfire.” It’s a crushing weight, and one that bows my back even here. I drop my head into my hand, as its twin continues to cradle those purple and white blossoms, “I suppose his grief has become mine, as well, by virtue of proximity and affection alike. I hate that he hurts for you. I hate that you’ve left him so hollow. I love that he smiles, however, when he speaks of you, at times...I just wish that...” My visions blurs, but I turn my eyes to the stars anyways, and the twisting nebulas that paint the dark canvas of the sky. Wishes are for fools, just as much as flowers are.

“I wish that he cared about himself even a fraction of as much as either of us have, and do. I wish he smiled - for real - more often.” I shift those flowers in my lap, and trace the pad of a finger over the velvet of one of those indigo petals. “I don’t know if it’s true, that some piece of us lingers on, in the lifestream, semi-aware of the world - but if so, I find that I hope it doesn’t hurt you, to see him so, as it does me. I find that I...admire the specter of you, as much as I resent that he seems to cut himself on the memory of you. The way he speaks of you, I almost wish I’d known you, even.”

For a time, I simply watch that little purple flower spin and drift away, before it’s lost behind a rock, tugged towards that bottleneck that will carry it into the heart of the forest, “I don’t expect him to stop hurting, or stop thinking of you. I just wish he could learn to live with that grief, and accept that he’s allowed to be happy. Honestly, I’m working on that too, even if I don’t really know how to be happy. But there’s something like it, with him.”

I slide off the mossy stone, pluck a purple flower from the bouquet, and leave the rest of them atop the rock on which I perched; I then take that flower, and squat next to the nearby pool that leads back, and away, into another creek that joins yet another river - there’s something to it that makes me think of the lifestream, and the souls adrift in it. “I’m trying, I suppose, to take care of him, in my way. But he’s stubborn...and I’m pretty bad at it, honestly - I feel I failed my family the same way he feels he failed you. Realistically, I know neither of us are failures - life is simply chaotic, and beyond our control. Death is a force beyond any of us. By his own logic, we both waste time in blaming ourselves for things long past that were never within our control to begin with...but it stands that no matter how hard I’ve tried, no matter how much I’ve loved...it’s never enough, really. I fail, and I fail, and I fail. The people around me that I’ve held close either die, or leave of their own volition.”

I let myself enjoy the little flower’s scent briefly, before I set it adrift, to be gently pulled back, and away, where it will join with the rest of this forest’s lifeblood. “I think...I think I love him, - ” It gives me goosebumps, to say it out loud...and just the twinge of a bellyache, “ - and I hope that’s okay with you, at least. I don’t think either of us want to look it in the eye, but it doesn’t change anything. I won’t let him die, though, if it’s within my power to prevent as much. I guess I’ll promise you that much. He’d probably hate me, if I gave my life for his, whether or not he actually gives a shit about me. But I’ll protect him, hm?” I dust myself off, and re-claim my legs, “As much as a man like him needs protecting, anyways. He’d scoff at me, for that one...but no one is immortal.”

When I look at the stars, it’s my family I think of - how these are the same stars we looked upon years ago, in a desert far, far from here; how these stars existed then, and now, and will continue to wink down at the Spoken long after I’m gone.

No matter how many calamities, this star of our own keeps spinning - so why can’t we?

“I’d bend the laws of magic - the laws of life and death itself - if it’d light his own fire again...but I’ll have to settle for what these little hands can do on their own, I’m afraid.” I look at them, for a quiet moment - hands that have stitched wounds, torn out throats, and traced his every scar. They’re capable of much...but perhaps they’ve met their match, in one just as hard-headed, and broken as I am.

It’s never stopped me before, though - I’ll simply have to keep trying.

21 notes · View notes

officialscaramouche · 3 years

Text

Companions

pairing: Chongyun x Xingqiu

summary: As playful, oddly suspicious, and teasing big Xingqiu was, the duo leave with some pretty good intel. With the end in sight, little Xingqiu feels a sudden disconnect with his traveling partner and begins to worry about going back to his time period.

warnings: none

word count: 4,106

also posted on ao3!

Ch. 4 of 5 < prev | next >

Xingqiu crossed his legs, leaning back against the tree. The bark dug into his back too uncomfortably but he knew that if he sat up again, it would tug at the delicate silk fibers and he didn’t want to ruin it any more than he already had. He admired the sunset before him as it flowed into the edge of the plains across the river. This was nice, he admitted, eyeing the area they had come from and began to understand a little bit about why he chose this secluded area to reside in later in life.

He observed the river closely, watching the current pull gently along, leaves drifting unbothered in the slight breeze. Lolling his head to the side lazily, he watched Chongyun drop small stumps of wood onto the ground. He stripped himself of his long, linen vest, his arms stretching either way to shrug the material off. Then, he rolled up his sleeves to air off his arms that procured a bit of sweat from cutting the small trees, his moisture-wicking sleeves clinging tightly to his muscle. And one by one, Chongyun placed a small log onto the large rocks there and brought down his blade with harsh force, splitting the wood in two. The longer he did this, the more tired he became. Soon he was panting heavily and sweating more than before. He tugged his sleeves off, exposing the skin finally, and wiped his forehead with the cloth.

Xingqiu was in a trance. Watching the exorcist chopping wood over and over again had him hypnotized. It wasn’t until the pole in his hands flew off his lap and down the river that he came back to Teyvat. “A-Ah!” Xingqiu dashed after it, feeling the bark pull apart the silk threads once more. “The pole!”

Chongyun, sitting on the rock now catching his breath, groaned when he saw the young boy chasing after the fishing rod knowing that he had to get it himself. He gets up reluctantly and begins a light jog that quickly becomes a sprint, swiping the rod from the river and pulling it back to at least try to catch the fish. He tugs it back firmly, reeling it in when the line tightens. He’s wrestling the fish as it tries desperately to swim away with it’s free meal but Chongyun is just as desperate to catch it after Xingqiu let every other fish go. “X-Xingqiu!”

The boy perks up and looks at Chongyun for orders. “Y-Yes! How can I--”

“Get the knife! I’ve almost got it!”

Xingqiu grimaced. “You want me to touch--”

“Quickly!!”

The scholar whines a little, stomping his feet in disgust. “Oh..fine!”

The boy kneels by the edge of the water, watching with disgust at the water thrashing about. Behind him, Chongyun plants his feet firmly on the ground, turning to the side and, with the last of his strength in a final attempt to get some food, he swings his arms down with a guttural shout, sending the fish flying into the air. It flies right over Xingqiu’s head and onto the ground, flopping in the dirt and grass. Chongyun tumbles to the ground, exhausted from the sudden burst of energy. Xingqiu stood there, holding the small pocket knife with both hands and staring at the fish. “Will you stun it already?” Chongyun breathes, his chest heaving.

Xingqiu shuts his eyes tightly, and slams the blunt end of his knife into the fish’s head. When he feels the fish still in his hand, he falls back and lets out a dramatic sigh. “I killed a fish…”

“Yeah and you’ve eaten plenty of em. Hurry up, give me the knife so I can clean it.” Chongyun crawls over to the boy and grabs the knife from his limp hand before crawling over to the fish and taking it to the rock. Xingqiu lifted his head slightly to watch Chongyun cut the head off the fish and slice it in half along the bottom. He stares intently at his back, admiring his broad shoulders for the first time since they left his estate. Oh, Xingqiu quit it, he thinks, laying his head back down. He rolls over and slowly picks himself up, dusting off his now ruined outfit.

He watches on, again, now filled with a tinge of sadness. After being on such a wonderful adventure-- his first adventure-- Xingqiu had briefly forgotten that he didn’t belong here. The Chongyun in front of him was not his Chongyun. This Chongyun was a seasoned exorcist. This Chongyun had lost his innocence a long time ago. This Chongyun does not look at him the way he looked at him. And most importantly, this Chongyun belonged to a different him. It was painfully obvious how loyal he was to his Xingqiu. His expressions when he talks about him are softer and kinder. His words are carefully selected and intentional. But when he talks to this Xingqiu, he’s terribly sarcastic and irritable.

Xingqiu missed his Chongyun. He missed the puppy-like devotion and the few words spoken. He missed being looked at like a treasure and being touched like a paper thin vase. His Chongyun was always so gentle and tender with him. His Chongyun appeared anywhere he wanted him to and at any time. His heart ached at the idea of not seeing Chongyun again, perhaps the same way that this Chongyun ached for his Xingqiu.

The boy watched as the older man ran bamboo sticks through the flesh of the fish, each puncture meticulous and careful. He placed them on his linen vest that he discarded moments ago to prevent the fish from getting dirty and opened a rolled-up pouch that had little vials neatly stored inside. Taking only a specific few, he dusted the fish skewers with what was inside the vials and the smell wafted over to Xingqiu. He recognized the smell of salt, pepper, dried onions, parsley, and mint. These were the spices Xingqiu liked in his fish. The boy shakes his head slightly and sighs with a small smile on his face. Maybe this Chongyun wasn’t very different from his at all.

It was quiet with the exception for the croaking frogs, the rippling river, and the fire cracking. The stars twinkled particularly brighter this far out from the city. Xingqiu had never seen the sky so plentiful and bright before. He stared up at the sky, resting his head on his arms beneath him. As he was getting lost in the stars, a bouquet of fish skewers wrapped in a leaf popped into view. Xingqiu sat up and took the skewers, noting the absence of any more on the fire. “You’re not gonna eat any?” Xingqiu took a bite out of the chunks of fish on his skewer and watched as Chongyun crushed different dried herbs between two rocks.

“No,” he answered, twisting the stone to grind the flowers into a fine powder. “I need three of them to give to the you hun ye gui. There’s only two left.”

Xingqiu blew gently on the steaming fish. “Yeah, two. One for me and one for you.”

Chongyun funneled the powder into an empty vial with a leaf and continued with other herbs. “Two would hardly be enough for you. It’s fine, I don’t eat much. I’m okay with fruits and nuts.”

Xingqiu peered at the exorcist through his lashes and pursed his bottom lip into a pout. “Is it because I’m a ‘growing boy?’”

“No, it’s because you’re a glutton.” Chongyun held the half-full vial up to look at it.

“What are you doing?” Xingqiu scooted over to the other side of the campfire, cradling the other skewer in his arm.

Chongyun gathered the next dried herb onto the center of the rock and began grinding it beneath another rock. “Making incense.”

“Oh yeah,” he said with a mouth full of fish. “What else did I say we needed?”

Chongyun paused and sighed. “...Guidance talismans.”

“Oh right...and you can’t make any?”

Chongyun chuckled, shaking his head. “No way. I don’t even know how to.” The man turned to face Xingqiu. “See, the difference between guidance talismans and, say, a sealing talisman is that it moves. It’s easy to make a talisman that doesn’t need to make its own decisions-- especially since I have no clue as to what this demon wants. But if you need a good one that stays still, I’m your man. The only person in my family that could make guidance talismans was my great aunt…”

Xingqiu tossed his bamboo skewer into the fire and eyed the last one. “I’m assuming she didn’t leave any notes, huh?”

“No…” Chongyun placed his elbow on his thigh, resting his chin in his hand. “The steps can’t be any different, though...right?” Xingqiu shrugged. He didn’t read a lot of exorcist, Taoist, or talisman books. He always kind of assumed that Chongyun knew everything. Chongyun leans back onto the ground, laying in his hands. “Well you should go to sleep. We’re gonna set off bright and early.”

Xingqiu felt that wave of sadness wash over him again as he looked on at Chongyun laying down and gazing at the stars. In the beginning, he felt like his journey would never end but now that they knew how to quell the demon, he wasn’t all too sure about what would happen for him next. Over these past days, almost week, he had grown attached and used to this older Chongyun. He found himself accustomed to sleeping in the dirt rather than a freshly made bed. And he found a bit of joy from traversing over the spanse of Liyue. But the most pressing question was whether or not he was going back home.

When Xingqiu woke up, Chongyun was sitting criss-crossed with his hands on either knee, his forefinger and thumb touching delicately as his palms faced the sun. He was incredibly still. Xingqiu had never seen Chongyun meditate as he wasn’t very good at it. He was always too restless and often found himself bored and seeking enrichment elsewhere. But Chongyun was a master exorcist now. Xingqiu wasn’t sure why he imagined that Chongyun couldn’t meditate now, and perhaps he did this often while he slept, able to rest peacefully while also keeping watch of their camp. And he knew Chongyun was aware of the area surrounding them, because when Xingqiu opened his eyes, he was greeted almost immediately with a grumbly “good morning.”

“Ah, good morning,” he croaked, his voice laced with sleep. “Did you sleep?”

“I haven’t slept this whole trip. Not like you, anyways.” He was right, he had been meditating all this time. “Are you ready?”

Xingqiu smoothed down his bedhead and combed his fingers through the knots. “Can I at least rinse out my mouth?”

Chongyun stood up, twisting left and right to crack his back. “Fine, but be quick.” Xingqiu hurried to the river to swish water around in his mouth, remembering his lingering thoughts from last night. If he could return to the beginning of this adventure, he probably would once more. But he was also very anxious to return home to a bustling harbor.

When the scholar returned, Chongyun wrapped something neatly into a thick leaf, tying it closed with strong fibers into a little box. Xingqiu’s footsteps grew louder as he approached the exorcist and he extended the box over to the boy. “What’s this?”

Chongyun chewed something and spit it onto the ground, wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb. “Mint. I use it to freshen up when I’m out on a journey.” Xingqiu untied the fibers and inside were crushed up mint leaves. The refreshing smell wafted out of the box and Xingqiu smiled, putting his nose to the rim. “You can do this,” Chongyun swiped a finger through the mint and Xingqiu watched as he rubbed his teeth and gums with the mint. “Then you can chew it until the taste is all gone.”

Xingqiu mirrored his best friend, swiping a finger through the mint to gather a bit and rubbed his teeth, cheeks, and gums before chewing it. “Thank you for sharing your mint,” he sings, handing the box back to Chongyun.

“No, that’s yours. I picked the mint this morning while you were sleeping. Keep it.”

Xingqiu looked at the box in his hand and blushed, tying the box closed to save the mint. “Thank you,” he said with a toothy grin. “So where are we headed now?” The boy asked, seeing Chongyun straighten out his linen robe and setting off. “Closer to the harbor.” Chongyun turned around and extended a hand for Xingqiu to grab, helping him up and over a big step. “The you hun ye gui stays in that area. I’m assuming it used to live here when the harbor was still being built.”

“I don’t know,” Xingqiu hummed, recalling one of their earlier nights together. “You said it only sought out exorcists and others similar. Didn’t exorcists only grow popular a couple of generations before you?”

Chongyun ran his hands through his hair, pulling his fringe out of his face. “Exorcists have always been around. It just didn’t become a large career until a few generations ago.”

“So I’m guessing that guidance talismans weren’t often made way back when either, huh? Since it’s hardly in production right now.”

“No, they were made more in the early years of Liyue. People were still very close with their archons and were often granted ‘favors,’ if you will.”

“Like what? What do you mean?”

“Exorcists weren’t a thing until Rex Lapis shared his power with my ancestors. Mortals were not to interact with the dead, but you can consider Rex Lapis as the escort to the other life.” Xingqiu closed his eyes as he thought, listening to Chongyun’s history lesson very carefully. “Now, the archons’ powers are watered down into these little pendants we call visions. We get a bit of their elemental prowess, but none of their omnipotence. I’d eat a million chilis right now if it meant Rex Lapis would reincarnate and give me but a pinch of his power.”

“Wow, I didn’t know that about visions! But why don’t we have geo visions?”

“We were recognized by other archons, that’s all. Anyways, we’re here so get comfortable.”

Chongyun dropped to a grassy spot underneath shade and crossed his legs once more. “What’s the plan?” Xingqiu sat atop his knees and placed his palms delicately in his lap.

“This whole trip, I’ve been meditating to try and communicate with my great aunt...but so far nothing has worked,” Chongyun said, without opening his eyes and with only moving his lips. “Hopefully I’ll be blessed by Rex Lapis’ spirit and he’ll give me wisdom.”

Xingqiu clapped his hands together in excitement. “You can speak with Morax when you meditate?!”

“I’m being sarcastic.”

“Oh.” Xingqiu sat back down and enjoyed the moment in silence for a bit. He studied Chongyun’s perfectly straight posture, the entirety of his body as still as stone, and his breathing so small that his chest was not visibly rising. “Is there anything I can do in the meantime? “Yeah, see if that book says anything more.” Chongyun opened his eyes suddenly and slouched a little, relaxing his hands. “Shit, I should’ve asked Xingqiu for the enochian decoder. Oh well.” Just like that, he resumed his straight posture and closed his eyes again.

Xingqiu pursed his lips and quirked an eyebrow. “Hmmm.” He laid the book flat on the ground, flipping through the pages and scanning the text for any recognizable words. Only few and far between words were revealed, but none of it helped to translate. ‘Demonic hatred coursed through the fingers wrapped around my throat. This is where I die, without answers, in the hands of my beloved.’ He revisited the early translations to try and find similarities in other words.

He looked back to Chongyun who sat motionless. He looked peaceful-- the most unbothered he’d looked this whole trip. Chongyun had grown into a capable young man who can take care of himself all alone. And he, too, became a successful individual doing what he loved. It was clear to himself, though, that he may not have gathered the courage to do certain things but he was still as constant in Chongyun’s life as much as he could. He remembered the somber look on his face when Chongyun explained to him that they’d both become busy. And when he got sick, Xingqiu was hardly around to help him get better. The boy sighed, telling himself that he needs to do better. He looked back to the book and clapped his hands on his cheeks. They were going to be here for a while, he might as well be productive.

‘The privilege to be bored was something I took for granted. I had realized that I had done not a single thing, not been helpful with the exception for entertainment. Which, in hindsight, I believe is what kept us together for so long. I am intolerable and loathsome, but my dearest sees through me and the facade and brings me along anyhow. Quiet moments like these will forever warm my heart in memories. We are not sharing a single activity, yet we are bonded by the coexistence. The rays of the sun stunk like poorly washed laundry and our hair clumped together from the bodily oils but it is fun to reminisce and I enjoy being sullied every now and then.’

“Ugh!” Xingqiu threw his brush as far as he could across the plain in frustration. “This has nothing to do about the demon! Stupid book!” Xingqiu crossed his arms in anger and huffs to the air. He jumps a little, afraid that he had been too loud and slowly turned to peek at Chongyun. He continued to sit there as lifeless as a rock. The shade he was in had now moved as the sun positioned itself differently in the sky and his cheeks began to flush a bit red. The stray strands of hair stuck to his face from the sweat, but he still looked as cool and collected as ever. But Xingqiu had an idea.

“Hey, Chongyun!”

The exorcist was shaken awake. He opened one eye to see what the matter was. “Yes?”

Xingqiu pushed something into his lap. Chongyun closed his eyes. “Can you freeze this for me?”

Chongyun, in a desperate attempt to get back to undisturbed meditating, grabbed the round object and coursed ice through it. He held it out for Xingqiu to grab.

“Thanks!” Chongyun could hear the young boy shuffling around. The sound of water being sloshed around hinted that he used his vision. Then, the boy came running back. “Here!”

Chongyun huffed in frustration, irritated by the harsh sun. “Please, I’m trying to--”

The exorcist opened his eyes to an amateur wooden carving of a bowl filled with a messy, dirty looking bowl of frozen water. Inside, he could see little blades of grass and granules of dirt but also recognized the petals of the qingxin flower. “I don’t have popsicle sticks, but I still remembered how to make it!”

Chongyun took the bowl in tired, shaking hands and stared into it in shock. “You made this for me? Where did you get the flowers?”

Xingqiu pointed to a small hill behind him. “I climbed up there! I got a little dirty, but that’s fine. Taste it! Is it good?”

“You climbed up there?!” Chongyun shot a finger in the direction of the mountain, his brows turned down in anger. “That’s dangerous!” Xingqiu didn’t know how to respond. Chongyun had never yelled at him before. Maybe raised his voice, but never yelled. “Ah, I’m sorry. I’m burning up.”

Xingqiu sat next to the exorcist. “Then eat up!”

Chongyun eyed the contaminated water in the bowl in his hands and shrugged. He held a hand out to the scholar. “Can I borrow your short knife?” Xingqiu slipped it out from the inside of his boot and Chongyun hacked at the ice deliberately, cutting out a small piece and popped it in his mouth. He sucked on the ice for a bit before it started to melt and gulped down the ice. It didn’t take long for the medicinal properties in the flower began to take effect. Chongyun continued to tear pieces out of the bowl, popping them in one by one each time with more vigor. Once the bowl was empty, Chongyun got to his feet with newfound energy, his sweat nearly gone. “That was so good, Xingqiu! Thank you!”

Xingqiu stood too, and tugged at Chongyun’s sleeve. “Before you go back to meditating, I want you to look at what I’ve done these past few hours!” The boy leads him to where his book lay and pulls out a paper from underneath it. “I haven’t got much, but I managed to decode some of the script.”

Chongyun looks at the messily written notes. There were enochian scripts next to legible characters and various drawings of symbols. “These,” Chongyun references, pointing to the drawn symbols. “Are the designs for the talisman. You did all this?

Xingqiu grins, holding his hands behind his back. “Yeah! And look, I got some of this translated. I didn’t care to check the beginning yet because we’re nearly done, so we only need the ending, right? But none of this seems relevant to the demon and what we’re doing.”

Chongyun reads the translated text and looks at Xingqiu who stood on his tippy toes to see the book. “Can I?” He asks, lifting the book and paper.

“Well, sure.”

Chongyun leads the two of them to a shaded area and he sits against the side of the mountain, flipping the decoded notes over to the blank side. His eyes shift from the book to the paper, making notes as he reads. They sat there until the sky had darkened and the book was no longer legible. “You were right,” he says with a smile. “This is a diary!”

Xingqiu snaps awake and throws himself over the book. “How do you know?”

“The writer continually refers to himself in first person. And these last two chapters are all written from his perspective. He’s travelling with his significant other and he’s talking about the you hun ye gui. The style of writing though…”

“Hey! Kind of like us!” Xingqiu grabbed the paper and read what Chongyun translated.

“Anyways, what I translated gave me an idea. Can you fill this bowl again and also draw me another talisman, but bigger this time?”

“Sure!”

Xingqiu pulled his finger out of his mouth and held it in the air. “The wind stopped, finally.”

Chongyun organized the fish on a large leaf and picked up the incense on the floor. “Good, maybe this time it will stay lit.”

The moon was high in the sky and the world was oddly quiet. At least to Xingqiu. They weren’t close to the harbor, but usually the liveliness could be heard from out here. He looked back to the moon and felt his stomach flip. He missed home. “How do you think I’m gonna get home?”

Chongyun struck flint, causing sparks. He stopped to look up at Xingqiu, who stood above his kneeling form. “I don’t know, I’ve never dealt with time travel before.” He looked down to continue striking the flint. “You’re probably the first.”

“Do you think I’m stuck here? Forever?”

The incense lit and Chongyun stuffed the flint into his pocket. He threw an arm around Xingqiu’s neck and they walked back towards the mountainside to hide behind some shrubs. “Well...if you’re here in the future, doesn’t that mean that you do? I mean, we grew up together. If you didn’t then you’d probably have disappeared by now. Or I might have even lost my memories of you.”

“Maybe another Xingqiu took my place!”

Chongyun laughed and ruffled his hair. “I think I’d be able to recognize a fraud, fanboy!” Chongyun paused and blushed. “But, in all seriousness, I did have fun on this trip.” Xingqiu looked at him quizzically. “And...seeing you as a kid again...I should’ve told you how much you meant to me more. I really did-- and still do-- enjoy hanging out with you. So thank you for being my friend.”

Xingqiu felt his heart beat a little harder. It was relieving to finally know that his strong feelings weren’t unrequited. But he might have to work on expressing his feelings just the same.

#companions #chongxiu #xingyun #writing

9 notes · View notes

geeky-introvert · 5 years

Text

Enthralled . Sigurd X Nymph OC

Summary: Sigurd discovers a creature that could be bad or good….One-shot.

Word count: 2754

Warning: Smut, virginity loss and kink size.

Tag List: @lisinfleur @mdlady @didiintheblog @alicedopey @lupy22 @rekdreams247 @mblaqgi @oddsnendsfanfics @aphnxrising @happydaysandersen @therealcalicali @naaladareia @inforapound @captstefanbrandt @waiting4inspiration @tabalugax @p8tn0lish

If anyone else wants to be added to the tag list let me know please.

Sigurd had never truly felt the affection from his mother because she put all her love into Ivar. She had tried but Ivar wanted her for himself, which left him feeling lonely even after his brothers left with their father to go raiding.

That was years ago. Time had blown over and Sigurd held a strong bitterness towards Ivar, all because he was a cripple. It made him feel better to torment his little brother knowing he hated it, and it gave a sickening satisfaction that he craved and couldn’t stop himself from continuing every moment he could.

Ubbe had always tried to keep the peace but it wouldn’t last forever, even being their big brother he couldn’t fix everything.

He hated that Ivar was a cripple and sometimes wished he was normal like everyone else, than maybe their mother would’ve given them both the attention equally.

Nothing could change though. It was how things were and will continue on.

Now that Sigurd was older he preferred his own company. It was quiet without having to listen to anyone else and he was able to do as he pleased. He decided to go hunting in the woods.

It was supposed to be just like any other day, but the gods had other plans for him.

There was a river he always crossed without any trouble but when he got to the river side he noticed the water had raised and had a strong current flowing. There had been a storm the night before so he figured that was the cause of it. The log he used was still there and chose to take the risk and cross it.

He balanced himself as he carefully stepped along the mossy log and thought it was fine. However, when he got only half way he took a bad step against the moss and fell into the river. The water carried him fast and barely managed to keep his head afloat as he tried to swim his way to shore. Suddenly a large boulder hit against his shoulder and cried out in pain before another hit with full force against his head, knocking him out completely and sank into the depths of the river.

He thought he was dead, he should’ve been but he wasn’t when he finally regained consciousness and let out a sharp cough that burned his throat. His shoulder hurt and felt a large lump formed against his head.

He tried to sit up and adjust his eyes in the icy cold air that lingering around him and noticed that he was laid out on a surprisingly soft mossy flat rock. Everything came back to Sigurd and that last thing he remembered was struggling to breath.

For a moment he believed he was dead and in Valhalla.

He then looked at his surroundings and felt that he might be truly in Valhalla, because what he saw was memorising. The light from the sun shined through the exposed gaps above him where it was covered in more boulders and vines, around him was more moss but not the slippery kind; it was so soft, like nothing he felt before. A small waterfall slowly flowed not far from him from a large exposed gap that was big enough to fit at least two people. The water was so calm and clear he could see the very bottom.

A warm smile formed as he admired the peaceful place, but that quickly changed when a aching pain came from his shoulder and saw that someone that wrapped it up in a large leaf with some kind of mushed up treatment under it.

Someone had brought him there.

He was shirtless, small cuts and formed bruising all covered most his body from the rapid waters. With whatever strength he had left lingering in him he sat up straight and gazed around the damp place.

The sound of soft water movement caught in his hearing and sharply turned where it came from. He saw someone on the water, barely hiding behind a mossy boulder as they peaked around it staring at him curiously.

“Who are you?” His breathing was heavy as he waited for a response from them.

The figure than slowly swam around the boulder and into his view. It was a woman and not just any woman but the most beautiful he’d ever seen before. Her silver eyes stared at him with curation and curiosity, pale skin like the moonlight and long blonde hair that surrounded her small figure. That wasn’t all he noticed about her. He saw what looked like gills surrounding both sides of her her neck and as she drew closer her hands laid over the surface of the rocks he saw her webbed fingers clear in his view.

“I’m Aura.” Her foreign accent was like liquid gold, so pure and alluring. She looked nervous just like he was. Both didn’t know what to probably say to one another. “What your name?” Her lack of proper words added to his curiosity.

“Sigurd.” He shifted himself closer to her carefully. “Did you save me?” She offered a shy smile to him.

“You were drowning. I saved you. I helped you. You feel better?” She had gained enough confidence to lift herself up from the water and sat on top of the rocks beside him.

He couldn’t prevent his eyes from roaming over her naked figure. Even for her small size she had the body of a grown woman. At first his mind convinced him that she was a mermaid but noticed she still had her legs freely kicking against the water. She didn’t seem at all bothered by his staring.

“Y-yeah, I’m alright.” He finally answered after the long silence between them. “Thank you, Aura.”

“You welcome, Sigurd.”

“Forgive me, but what are you?” He couldn’t help himself.

“I water nymph. This my home.” She directed around them. “You guest in my home. I welcome you.”

Her beautiful was beyond anything, those eyes and silky warm smile was almost chronic, and his urges wanted more.

“Your home is beautiful.” He admitted kindly which brought a broad smile to her. “Thank you for saving me, I owe you a great debt.”

“What is debt?”

“Debt is like I owe you something in return for helping me.” Her eyes lit up so brightly at his words and he wasn’t sure why.

“You owe debt. I know debt.” Her words were mixed but he seemed to pull them apart and back together in order to understand what she was trying to say.

“What do you want in return?” He sounded unsure and not fully understanding what she was exactly asking from him.

“I want child.”

Now that was something he never expected.

“Y-you want a child?”

“I want to be mother. You give me child.”

He didn’t know how to think or feel about it. She was asking like it was just a casual thing, but it wasn’t.

“You want to have my child?” She nodded confirming it and scooted closer so that her wet hand touched his.

“Yes. I’m of age. I’m ready.”

Sigurd felt torn. He wanted to give her what she wanted but he also felt conflicted with the mater of her not being human like him. Not that it was a bother, but he wasn’t fully sure what that meant if he went along with it. Something told him she wouldn’t be able to go with him and he understood why.

“Will I ever see you and the child?”

“Yes. You can visit. Welcome anytime.” That did bring some relief.

He thought over it without really thinking hard, and quickly made his mind up.

“Alright, I’ll give you a child.” He gave a warm smile which she returned.

He leaned forward and kissed her softly, and felt she didn’t return the kiss but coaxed her by deepening it and brought his hand behind her neck to pull her in closer to him. She seemed to fall in motion with it quickly. He could tell by the kiss it was her first but he was patent.

Their tongues rolled together slowly, the moment stretched out as Sigurd wanted this to be perfect. He’s had women before and he thought she was a virgin, so he took his time. Even though he still felt sore he did his best to not hurt himself as he gently pulled her closer and laid her down against the moss before crawling over her.

He moved away from the kiss and looked down at her lost in awe from her innocent beauty.

“What happen now?” Aura asked out of breath.

Sigurd didn’t need to know anymore that she was truly a virgin and leaned down closer to her face.

“Has anyone ever told you about sex?” She gave a confused shake.

“I been alone for long time. No one ever told me.”

To him it sounded almost sad that she hasn’t had anyone around for a long time. A child would bring that joy to her.

He leaned down over her chest and took one of her nipples between his lips, and suckled softly at the tender flesh before repeating the same action to her other nipple.

Her soft moans made his cock twitch and harden under his still damp trousers and grounded himself against her. She sounded surprised, and he only smiled before kissing her again. His hands tugged his trousers down and kicked them off his feet leaving him bare for her to feel.

“What that?” She stuttered as she tried to gaze down between them when she felt his hardened cock touching her.

“That’s how we’re going to make a child.”

He thought it was rather cute that she had no clue how this was going to play out for each other but he was prepared to be patient with her and show how it was done.

With gentle hands he parted her thighs and settled himself between her spread legs as he ignored the aching pain in his shoulder. He watched with amazement as the gills at her neck flared out along with her heavy breathing and for a moment he thought she might need to be in the water. It was as if she read his mind.

“No worry. I breathe fine out water.” Everything about her was so perfect.

“By gods, you’re everything a man could want.” He rasped quietly and brushed their lips together lightly in a tender affection. Her only response was a light giggle that sent shivers through him, like she had just cast a spell, and if she did he didn’t care.

His hand travelled down between them and rubbed his rough fingers against her sex, in which he was surprised to find she had no hair surrounding her core. She let out a frightened gasp at the sudden feeling he gave and ranked her fingers against his chest.

“First times always hurt, but I’ll do my best to make it pleasurable for you.” He warned her before his fingers started to gently stroke against her moist folds and over her sensitive bud.

She mewled out from the sudden fire that lit up in her abdomen and tossed her head back against the moss. He kissed her collarbone and up to her face again where he gave another gentle kiss to her before his finger pushed into her tight core.

Her moan came out with discomfort and he shushed her with tender kisses against her damp skin. She clenched tightly around his thrusting finger and he knew it was going to be a tight fit. Her body was already so small and for a mere moment he doubted he could. But once he felt his finger adjust around his finger he knew it would be alright for him to precede, it was just going to take time.

His finger was gone from her core and he spat into his hand to lube himself and spat again for her sex. Her juices were leaking but he needed to be sure she was alright to take him.

He got himself in position and hooked her legs around his waist before he lined himself and probed her sex a little, right before he pushed the tip of his cock in. She whimpered at his thickness and distracted her by leaving soothing kisses against her chest as he tried pushing more of himself into her tight sex. It was working for a moment because of how small she was, but after a few more forced pushes he felt something give way and felt his cock move more in her.

Her eyes were sealed shut and she bit her reddened lips as his cock broke through her virginity and pushed up against her g spot. Sigurd groaned lowly and looked down between them. His eye’s widened when he saw the bulge formed at her lower abdomen and when he shifted he released it was his cock that pressed up against her. It was like a strange fetish that suddenly came to life and rubbed the swollen bulge with a shuttered breath.

His cock fully settled in her and Aura let out deep inhales and exhales to keep her breathing even as she adjusted to his thick cock.

He kissed her deeply before he pulled out of her and thrust back in quickly. It jolted the both of them. He wanted to fuck her like there was no tomorrow but he didn’t want to hurt her. Her legs wrapped around him and her sounds were mixed with pain and pleasure, but she looked at him and gave a nod.

She was ready.

Sigurd rolled his hips and watched the bulge rotate up and gave a firm thrust against her again. He held back as much as he could as he grind his hips against her with firm and slow movements.

“Oh fuck!” He groaned out while biting his lips.

“Sigurd!” She gasped out feeling the pleasure bubble its way up through her.

His thrusts became fast, harsher, he couldn’t help himself. He watched as his cock appeared and disappeared into her and the bulge moving up and down against her lower abdomen.

“Sigurd, Sigurd!” She sobbed loudly and shook under him as her orgasm erupted through her.

He felt her clench so tightly around him that he found his end after a few more firm thrusts and spilled his seed in her. After a short moment he pulled out and collapsed beside her with a heavy exhale.

Aura shivered and nuzzled herself against him, which made him move his injured shoulder gentle and welcomed her into his side with a warm smile.

“I promise to visit you, Aura.” He swore to Odin himself he would.

“I hope so. I like you.”

“I like you too.”

Their lips then sealed together.

As promised he visited her every month without anyone noticing even by his brothers. Every month she grew bigger with her swollen stomach and growing child. After the nine month period he returned to find she had the child the night before.

It was a beautiful baby girl. Aura named her Irie. She had the blondest hair with blue eyes just like him. Besides Aura, Irie was the second most amazing thing he’d ever seen.

He knew they couldn’t go back with him, where they were was their home. He will continue visiting until his time had come. Being with them though brought so much comfort to his empty soul and craved it every moment he could.

They were his family, his beauties, and his light through the struggles of the world.

#vikings #sigurd snake in the eye #sigurd x oc #sigurd x reader #water nymph #fanfiction #fandom #5cw #5cwsigurd #smut #sigurd imagine

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sj-thefan · 5 years

Text

Journey to Aslan’s How

After introducing himself as Trumpkin, the dwarf suggested the group take Miraz's soldier's boat to find his friends who would help the Kings and Queens of old. Trumpkin claimed to have been near Caspian when the horn was blown and that if the group found his friends, Caspian would be with them.

"You never told us who you are?" Edmund noticed as Peter rowed the boat. He looked to the girl who was seated next to him. "You can't be one of them. You were helping us. So, who are you?"

Y/n looked around. Everyone was watching her, waiting for her reply.

"I am a telmarine," the girls' eyes widened, "but I am also part Narnian. My father was part dwarf." Everyone was silent. "My name is Y/n. I work in the palace with my father. I saw the soldiers riding away with you," she nodded at the dwarf, "and I wanted to help, so I followed them."

Everyone remained silent for a few more moments, before the dwarf spoke. "Why'd you want to help me?"

"I want Narnia to be the way it used to be. A peaceful place with no war. The telmarines were wrong to slaughter the Narnians. If all of you are gone, then we can't return to the old Narnia. I figured if I could help you, you might be able to see that there are those who wish for Narnia to be the way it was."

They rowed along in silence.

"They're so still," Lucy observed as she watched the trees.

Trumpkin gave her an odd look. "They're trees. What'd you expect?"

"They used to dance."

"It wasn‟t long after you left that the Telmarines invaded." Everyone looked at Y/n. She sighed sadly before Trumpkin continued. "Those that survived retreated to the woods. And the trees," he sighed, "they retreated so deeply inside themselves that they haven't been heard from since."

"I don't understand. How could Aslan have let this happen?" Y/n perked at the Great Lion's name but stayed quiet.

"Aslan? Thought he abandoned us when you lot did."

All the Pevensie children became very gloomy. "We didn't mean to leave, you know," Peter added.

"It makes no difference now, does it?"

Y/n couldn't help but feel sorry for the people around her. She looked to Peter. He had been High King when it was ripped away from him. Now he was a forbidden story in a book. She watched as his sadness melted into determination. "Get us to the Narnian's, and it will."

Soon the group arrived at a small bay. Trumpkin directed Peter to dock the boat. As Peter, Edmund, Susan, and Y/n pulled the boat ashore and Trumpkin anchored it, Lucy looked around. Soon she spotted a bear and began to approach it.

"Hello there," she called gaining the attention of both the group of people by the water and the bear. "It's alright, we're friends."

"Queen Lucy, stop!" Y/n shouted drawing her bow. The other Pevensies noted her behavior and began to get worried.

"Don't move, Your Majesty," Trumpkin called.

Lucy turned around. In her days, the animals were friendly Narnians. She didn't understand what was happening.

The bear began charging at the young Queen.

At the sound of the bear approaching, Lucy began running towards her family.

Everyone beside her ran to the boat to fetch their own weapons while Y/n released her arrow.

It missed.

She began loading another when Susan appeared beside her with her own bow ready. "Stay away from her!" she yelled at the bear.

The bear continued chasing Lucy who tripped over her dress.

"Shoot, Susan! Shoot!" Edmund yelled, as the boys grabbed their swords and started running to Lucy. But Susan did nothing.

Lucy let out a scream as the bear reached her and lifted itself onto its hind legs with a loud growl.

Suddenly an arrow pierced its side and the bear collapsed, dead.

Lucy turned around to see who shot the bear. Susan stood in shock, her arrow still nocked in the bow. It was Y/n whose arrow killed the beast.

She began running to Lucy. "Are you alright, Your Majesty?" she asked as she knelt by the young girl. Lucy could only nod in reply.

"Why wouldn't he stop?" Queen Susan questioned.

"I suspect he was hungry," Trumpkin replied bluntly.

Everyone made their way over to the bear as Y/n helped Lucy stand. When he drew near, Lucy snuggled into Peter's side. He continued to point his sword at the bear as if it might rise up and attack them.

"He was wild?" Edmund seemed as shocked as the other Pevensie children.

"I don't think he could talk at all."

Y/n shared a look with Trumpkin. "Get treated like a dumb animal long enough," he poked the bear with his own bow, "that's what you become. You may find Narnia a more savage place then you remember."

Trumpkin took out his blade and began carving into the bear. Lucy turned into Peter to hide.

Y/n knelt to the ground. "Come, Your Majesty. Let us see if we can find where we are while they handle this."

Lucy turned to Y/n before taking her outstretched hand and walking into the woods. Susan followed.

A few minutes later, they were joined by the males. Peter quickly took the lead.

"I don't remember this way at all," Susan groaned.

Peter turned back. Lucy was still holding Y/n's hand. "That's the problem with girls," he smiled and continued walking. "You can't carry a map in your heads."

"I am slightly offended at that," Y/n mumbled so only Lucy could hear.

Lucy giggled. "That's because our heads have something in them."

Lucy seemed a bit happier now, as she let go of Y/n's hand and ran up to her sister.

Susan leaned down to talk to Lucy when she approached. "I wish he'd just listen to the D.L.F."

"D.L.F.?" Edmund asked pausing slightly.

"Dear Little Friend," Lucy replied with a smile.

Y/n glanced back at the dwarf. He didn't seem like the kind to enjoy that kind of joke.

"Oh, that's not at all patronizing, is it?"

"Could be worse," Y/n replied with a smile before turning back around and continuing her walk.

Soon they arrived at a fork in the path. Peter looked confused as he glanced at his options. "I'm not lost," he mumbled.

"No." Trumpkin arrived at his side. "You're just going the wrong way."

Y/n stood beside Edmund as Peter and Trumpkin began arguing.

"You said you last saw Caspian at the Shuddering Wood, and the quickest way there is to cross at the river rush," Peter explained.

"But, unless I'm mistaken, there's no crossing in these parts." They all looked to Peter.

"That explains it then. You're mistaken."

Peter turned and began walking again. The group slowly followed.

After much more walking, they arrived at a gorge. Y/n stood with Edmund and Trumpkin as the other Pevensie children stood by the edge of the gorge, bickering.

"Is there a way down?" Edmund asked, looking at the natives beside him.

Trumpkin rolled his eyes. "Yeah, falling."

"Well, we weren't lost," Peter defended. Y/n looked at him. She felt bad. His Narnia was completely different than the one they were in now.

"There's a ford at Beruna. How do you feel about swimming?" Trumpkin asked.

"I'd rather that than walking."

They all began to follow Trumpkin.

"Aslan?" Lucy called. Y/n quickly lifted her eyes, she had always wanted to meet the lion from the history books. "It's Aslan!" She turned around to make sure her group was looking. "It's Aslan over there! Don't you see? He's right..." She turned back around to see nothing. Everyone had gathered at the edge of the gorge now, looking for Aslan but no one could see him. "...there."

"Do you see him now?" Trumpkin questioned sarcastically. Everyone turned to see the dwarf had not moved very much. Susan glared at him.

"I'm not crazy," Lucy defended. "He was there. He wanted us to follow him."

The Pevensie children shared a look. Y/n found herself remembering how Lucy had been the first to believe in Narnia from the history books. She wondered if this was a similar event.

Peter began to reason with Lucy. "I'm sure there are any number of lions in this wood. Just like that bear."

"I think I know Aslan when I see him."

"Look," Trumpkin butted in again. "I'm not about to jump off a cliff after someone who doesn't exist."

"The last time I didn't believe Lucy, I ended up looking pretty stupid."

Peter listened to his brother before glancing back at the place Lucy said Aslan was. "Why wouldn't I have seen him?"

"Maybe you weren't looking?" she whispered.

"I'm sorry, Lu," he replied before starting their walk again.

The group began walking again.

They followed Trumpkin until they reached flat ground. Men were everywhere, they seemed to be building a bridge. The group huddled behind a pile of logs, out of sight from the working men.

The sound of horses drew their attention as the ducked out of view.

"Perhaps this wasn't the best way to come after all," Susan whispered to Peter.

Y/n peaked her head up slightly before ducking back down. "Your Majesties," she whispered. "That man with the pointed beard is Miraz."

Peter quickly glanced at the girl before looking for Miraz. Once he saw him, he directed everyone back into the forest.

Soon they were standing at the top of the gorge asking Lucy where she saw Aslan.

"I wish you'd all stop trying to sound like grown-ups," she said sternly to everyone. "I don't think I saw him, I did see him."

"I am a grown-up," Trumpkin added.

Lucy continued like he hadn't spoken. "It was right over..."

A loud crumbling noise was heard as the ground beneath Lucy collapsed and she fell with a slight yelp.

Everyone ran to where she was, some of them calling her name.

The arrived to see she had only fallen a few feet and instead found a path that leads to the bottom of the gorge. "...Here."

They quickly made their way down and across the water. At one point Y/n almost slipped and fell into the water but was saved when she felt two very warm hands on her waist. She turned around to see Peter.

"Careful it's slippery."

Her face grew warm as she smiled her thanks at him.

On the other side of the gorge, they made camp as the sun began to fade. As they sat around the fire Y/n began a conversation.

"What's it like?" she asked the Pevensies. They all looked up at her. "Your world?"

None of them replied for a few moments and Y/n began to wonder if she crossed a line. Maybe they didn't want to talk about their home.

"Dirty," Lucy finally replied and everyone burst into giggles.

Once the laughter died down she added, "-and everyone always seems angry."

"Why?" Y/n's curiosity got the better of her.

"War," Peter responded. Y/n looked to him. "Everyone lost something or someone, so now everyone just wants what's theirs. They get sad, then they get angry that they're sad. So they try to fill their lives with stuff, but it's never enough and they just stay angry."

They were all quiet. Y/n thought about what he said.

"Is that how you felt?" His eyes told her yes, so she reached out her hand and squeezed his shoulder. "You don't have to feel like that anymore," she whispered so only he could hear her. "You're back."

He smiled at her.

Lucy broke the silence again. "What about you, Y/n? What was it like growing up here?"

Y/n sighed as she turned her attention back to the group. "I had a good life, I guess. I lost my mom at an early age but I got to live in the castle. I was happy. I spent a lot of time with Prince Caspian. He taught me how to use a bow." She smiled at the memory. "But I never really felt like I belonged. I wasn't supposed to play with Caspian but I couldn't go into the village because the girls there always picked on me. As I grew up I spent more and more time reading about the way Narnia used to be and dreaming of ways to make it happen." She glanced up at the group. Everyone had glum faces. "Let's talk about something else though. Something funny?"

Lucy quickly jumped at the chance to tell a funny story and the rest of the night was spent laughing and talking about happy things until they drifted off to sleep.

Y/n woke to the distant sound of swords clanging together. She quickly rose to find both Peter and Lucy missing.

"King Peter?" she called. "Queen Lucy?"

Her calls had caused the others to rise.

Quickly they followed the sounds of fighting before the heard Lucy shout, "No, stop!"

Susan and Edmund moved even faster at the sound of their sister's voice.

"Peter!" Susan shouted as the group rushed into a clearing.

The first thing Y/n noticed was all the Narnians gathered around. Her joyful eyes then landed on Caspian.

"Caspian!" she called running to hug her best friend.

"Y/n?" He pulled away to look at her. "What are you doing here?"

"It worked Caspian. The horn brought the Kings and Queens of old." Her smile was bright.

Caspian looked down to the sword in his hand. Y/n noticed it was not his. "High King Peter," he said looking to Peter. Y/n smiled as the realization washed over his face.

"I believe you called."

"Well, yes, but..." Caspian looked to Y/n uncertainly, "I thought you'd be older."

"If you like, we could come back in a few years..."

"No!" Caspian cried almost desperately. "No, that's all right. You're just, you're not exactly what I expected."

Y/n watched him look over all the Pevensies. She noted how his eyes seemed to watch Susan longer than the others.

"Neither are you," Edmund added.

"A common enemy unites even the oldest of foes." Y/n turned to find a badger gesturing to the mix of creatures before them.

Suddenly a mouse jumped forwards and began to speak to Peter. "We have anxiously awaited your return, my liege. Our hearts and swords are at your service." The mouse bowed.

"Oh, my gosh, he is so cute," Lucy whispered to Susan.

The mouse heard and drew his sword, ready to attack the speaker. "Who said that?"

"Sorry." Lucy looked almost ashamed.

The mouse was quick to adjust his tone towards the Queen. "Oh, uh... You're Majesty, with the greatest respect, I do believe 'courageous,' 'courteous,' or 'chivalrous' might more befit a knight of Narnia."

"Well, at least we know some of you can handle a blade," Peter spoke.

"Yes, indeed," the mouse nodded. "And I have recently put it to good use, securing weapons for your army, sire."

"Good." Peter turned back towards Caspian. "Because we're going to need every sword we can get."

"Well, then you will probably be wanting yours back." Caspian handed Peter his sword and they all began heading to Aslan's How.

Y/n walked beside Caspian. "Why are you here, Y/n?" Caspian questioned.

"I had to help Trumpkin." She gestured to the dwarf walking beside Lucy. "They were going to kill him."

Caspian nodded. "And your father? Is he safe?"

"I don't know," Y/n admitted. "I haven't seen him since I left."

"I'm glad you're here."

They continued walking together until Peter approached and began discussing battle strategies. Y/n dropped back to walk beside Susan.

When they arrived, the centaurs that had been guarding the How, raised their swords in salute. Caspian let the Kings and Queens enter first while he followed with Y/n by his side.

Inside they found many Narnians making weapons. Caspian watched as Peter glanced around. "It may not be what you are used to, but it is defendable."

Peter nodded.

"Peter," Susan called from the hall she and Lucy had wandered down. "You may want to see this."

Caspian and Y/n followed the Pevensies to the hall. Along the stone walls were paintings of the Kings and Queens of Old and their stories.

"It's us," Susan said.

Lucy turned to look at Caspian and Y/n. "What is this place?"

"You don't know?" Caspian asked in shock. He grabbed a torch from the wall and began leading them all further down the hall.

He led them to a room filled with carvings of old Narnians. On the wall straight ahead of them was a large carving of Aslan. In the centre of the room was the cracked stone table. Y/n watched the faces of the Kings and Queens. She had never been here before but she heard stories. She never thought she would get to live her dreams.

Lucy stepped forward and rested her hand on the table. "He must know what he's doing," she said turning to face the rest of them.

Susan gave her a sad smile, but it was Peter who spoke. "I think it's up to us now."

Previous Part | Next Part

#Sj writes #High King Peter #Narnia #Peter Pevensie x reader #Peter x reader

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peacefulheartfarm · 3 years

Text

Coyotes on the Homestead

Coyotes are a plague when you have sheep. Today’s podcast is going to be all about coyotes. Probably more than you ever wanted to know. Some things about coyotes might surprise you.

I want to take a minute and say welcome to all the new listeners and welcome back to the veteran homestead-loving regulars who stop by the FarmCast for every episode. I appreciate you all so much. I’m so excited to share with you what’s going on at the farm this week.

Our Virginia Homestead Life Updates

So why is the topic today about coyotes? Well, we have had issues and I need to talk about it. I’ll try to keep it mostly factual and as upbeat as possible. In the end though, sometimes homestead life has tragic consequences.

Sheep and Lambs

Over a span of about 3 or 4 days we lost more than half of our sheep. All six of our lambs, including my bottle baby, Susie Q are gone. Five adult ewes are also gone. We have 10 sheep left out of 21. Yeah, it’s a big loss. I’m still heartbroken about losing Susie Q. I still look for her. When I look out the window, momentarily I’m looking for her. Especially in the evening, when I go to create bottles for the twin calves, I briefly look for the very small bottle we use for lambs. Then I remember. She’s gone.

I was unusually attached to Susie Q. We’ve had bottle lambs lots of time. But I’ve never been so attached. Well, perhaps it’s that we have never lost one. And after they are grown and no longer need me for daily feedings, I naturally let go of them. Like Lambert. He’s still out there with the boys and he was a bottle baby. I just don’t think I would miss him the way that I miss Susie Q. And we’ve had others that ended up at freezer camp. I don’t know what’s different except that she was still so young dependent on us.

Cows and Calves

We moved all of the animals out of the back fields where the attacks were occurring. Scott brought out a couple of guys that hunted the male leader and we also used poison. That’s a really harsh method, but sometimes it is necessary.

The twin calves were also quite vulnerable to coyote attack. Scott moved them to a sheltered area. Virginia is also with them. We had to pull her out of the general herd because she was nursing on Cloud. If you remember, Cloud is already feeding two calves. Adding Virginia was definitely more than Cloud could support. You can likely guess that the ones who would suffer would be Princess and Winston. Virginia is about a year old and would definitely wipe out all the available milk and the younger two would be left hungry. So, Virginia is safely away from the other cows and hanging out with the twins.

Keeping the various calves out of one or another milk supply has really been a challenge this year. I don’t know if I mentioned that we briefly had all the calves and cows together. It’s much easier to maintain the pastures if there are only two groups of animals. The boys and the girls. However, having all the cow girls together immediately failed. Rosie came in for milking down a couple of quarts of milk. We suspected Princess as Rosie is her mom, after all. Now I’m wondering if it was actually Virginia and after she got a taste of milk she started looking around and found Cloud after Rosie was gone. Who knows? Rosie and Butter are in a field by themselves. The twin calves and Virginia are in the loafing space. And the rest of the crew which includes Violet, Claire, Buttercup, Cloud and her two calves, are out front. The boys, of course, are in yet another place. We have cows all over the place.

Everyone is relatively safe at the moment. Let’s talk about coyotes. I didn’t want to know all of this and I’ve left out the most gruesome of details. But the gist of the story is here.

Coyotes

The coyote is a species of canine native to North America. It is smaller than its close relative, the wolf. It fills much of the same ecological niche as the golden jackal does in Europe and Asia. Though the coyote is larger and more predatory. Other historical names for this species include the prairie wolf and the brush wolf.

The coyote is listed as least concern by the International Union for Conservation of Nature, due to its wide distribution and abundance throughout North America. Coyote populations are also abundant southwards through Mexico and into Central America. Even now, it is enlarging its range by moving into urban areas in the eastern U.S. and Canada. The coyote was sighted in eastern Panama (across the Panama Canal from their home range) for the first time in 2013.

Coyote Subspecies

There are 19 recognized coyote subspecies. The average male weighs 18 to 44 lb and the average female 15 to 40 lb. Their fur color is predominantly light gray and red, sometimes interspersed with black and white. The colors vary somewhat with geography. Coyotes are highly flexible in their social organization. Sometimes living in a family unit and sometimes in loosely knit packs of unrelated individuals. Primarily carnivorous, its diet consists mainly of deer, rabbits, hares, rodents, birds, reptiles, amphibians, fish, and invertebrates, though it may also eat fruits and vegetables on occasion. Its characteristic vocalization is a howl made by solitary individuals. Humans are the coyote's greatest threat, followed by cougars and gray wolves. In spite of this, coyotes sometimes mate with gray, eastern, or red wolves, producing "coywolf" hybrids. Genetic studies show that most North American wolves contain some level of coyote DNA.

Coyote Folklore

The coyote is a prominent character in Native American folklore, usually depicted as a trickster that alternately assumes the form of an actual coyote or a man. After the European colonization of the Americas, it was seen in Anglo-American culture as a cowardly and untrustworthy animal. Unlike wolves, which have undergone an improvement of their public image, attitudes towards the coyote remain largely negative. I’m in the group with that attitude.

Hunting and Feeding

Two studies that experimentally investigated the role of olfactory, auditory, and visual cues found that visual cues are the most important ones for hunting in coyotes.

When hunting large prey, the coyote often works in pairs or small groups. Unlike the wolf, which attacks large prey from the rear, the coyote approaches from the front, lacerating its prey's head and throat. Although coyotes can live in large groups, small prey is typically caught singly. Coyotes have been observed to kill porcupines in pairs, using their paws to flip the rodents on their backs, then attacking the soft underbelly. Only old and experienced coyotes can successfully prey on porcupines, with many predation attempts by young coyotes resulting in them being injured by their prey's quills. Recent evidence demonstrates that at least some coyotes have become more nocturnal in hunting, presumably to avoid humans.

Coyotes may occasionally form mutualistic hunting relationships with American badgers, assisting each other in digging up rodent prey. The relationship between the two species may occasionally border on apparent "friendship", as some coyotes have been observed laying their heads on their badger companions or licking their faces without protest. The amicable interactions between coyotes and badgers were known to pre-Columbian civilizations, as shown on a Mexican jar dated to 1250–1300 depicting the relationship between the two.

Vocalizations

The coyote has been described as "the most vocal of all wild North American mammals". Its loudness and range of vocalizations was the cause for its binomial name Canis latrans, meaning "barking dog". At least 11 different vocalizations are known in adult coyotes. These sounds are divided into three categories: agonistic and alarm, greeting, and contact. The lone howl is the most iconic sound of the coyote and may serve the purpose of announcing the presence of a lone individual separated from its pack.

Habitat

Prior to the near extermination of wolves and cougars, the coyote was most numerous in grasslands inhabited by bison, pronghorn, elk, and other deer, doing particularly well in short-grass areas with prairie dogs, though it was just as much at home in semiarid areas with sagebrush and jackrabbits or in deserts inhabited by cactus, kangaroo rats, and rattlesnakes.

Coyotes walk around 3–10 miles per day, often along trails such as logging roads and paths; they may use iced-over rivers as travel routes in winter. They are often more active around evening and the beginning of the night than during the day. Like many canids, coyotes are competent swimmers, reported to be able to travel at least 0.5 miles across water.

Diet

The coyote is ecologically the North American equivalent of the Eurasian golden jackal. Likewise, the coyote is highly versatile in its choice of food, but is primarily carnivorous, with 90% of its diet consisting of meat. Prey species include bison (largely as carrion), white-tailed deer, mule deer, moose, elk, bighorn sheep, pronghorn, rabbits, hares, rodents, birds (especially young water birds and pigeons and doves), amphibians (except toads), lizards, snakes, turtles and tortoises, fish, crustaceans, and insects. More unusual prey include young black bear cubs and rattlesnakes. Coyotes kill rattlesnakes mostly for food but also to protect their pups at their dens. They will tease the snakes until they stretch out and then bite their heads and shake them. Birds taken by coyotes may range in size from thrashers, larks and sparrows to adult wild turkeys.

If working in packs or pairs, coyotes have access to larger prey than lone. In some cases, packs of coyotes have dispatched much larger prey such as adult deer, cow, elk, and sheep, although the young fawn, calves and lambs of these animals are most often taken. In some cases, coyotes can bring down prey weighing up to 220 to 440 lb or more. When it comes to adult animals such as deer, they often exploit them when vulnerable such as those that are infirm, stuck in snow or ice, otherwise winter-weakened or heavily pregnant. Less wary domestic animals are more easily exploited.

Although coyotes prefer fresh meat, they will scavenge when the opportunity presents itself. Excluding the insects, fruit, and grass eaten, the coyote requires an estimated 1.3 lb of food daily, 550 lb annually.

The coyote feeds on a variety of different produce, including blackberries, blueberries, peaches, pears, apples, prickly pears, persimmons, peanuts, watermelons, cantaloupes, and carrots. During the winter and early spring, the coyote eats large quantities of grass, such as green wheat blades.

Other interesting diet components

In coastal California, coyotes now consume a higher percentage of marine-based food than their ancestors, which is thought to be due to the extirpation of the grizzly bear from this region. In Death Valley, coyotes may consume great quantities of hawkmoth caterpillars or beetles in the spring flowering months.

Livestock and Pet Predation Statistics

As of 2007, coyotes were the most abundant livestock predators in western North America, causing the majority of sheep, goat, and cattle losses. For example, according to the National Agricultural Statistics Service, coyotes were responsible for 60.5% of the 224,000 sheep deaths attributed to predation in 2004. The total number of sheep deaths in 2004 comprised 2.22% of the total sheep and lamb population in the United States, which, according to the National Agricultural Statistics Service USDA report, totaled 4.66 million and 7.80 million heads respectively as of July 1, 2005. Because coyote populations are typically many times greater and more widely distributed than those of wolves, coyotes cause more overall predation losses. United States government agents routinely shoot, poison, trap, and kill about 90,000 coyotes each year to protect livestock. An Idaho census taken in 2005 showed that individual coyotes were 5% as likely to attack livestock as individual wolves. In Utah, more than 11,000 coyotes were killed for bounties totaling over $500,000 in the fiscal year ending June 30, 2017.

Livestock Guardian Dogs

Livestock guardian dogs are commonly used to aggressively repel predators and have worked well in both fenced pasture and range operations. A 1986 survey of sheep producers in the USA found that 82% reported the use of dogs represented an economic asset.

Protect Yourself and Your Pets

Coyotes are often attracted to dog food and animals that are small enough to appear as prey. Items such as garbage, pet food, and sometimes feeding stations for birds and squirrels attract coyotes into backyards. About three to five pets attacked by coyotes are brought into the Animal Urgent Care hospital of South Orange County (California) each week, the majority of which are dogs. Cats typically do not survive coyote attacks. Smaller breeds of dogs are more likely to suffer injury and/or death.

Coyotes are one of my least favorite parts of God’s creation. I’ve probably given you far too much information on these creatures. But as I said earlier, I needed to talk about this. Thanks for listening.

Final Thoughts

Living on the homestead is not always pretty. Survival is always relative to the environment. Many times, survival is a competition between humans and other species. All animals have a right to live. God made them and there you go. They have a right to live. And we also have the right to protect our other animals. Sometimes it is a small parasite – which is also deadly at times. And sometimes it’s larger animals such as coyotes and bears. Everyone is just trying to survive. I miss my Susie Q. And when I look at our decimated flock of sheep, I am filled with sadness. However, in the end, some of our flock has survived and we will rebuild. It’s what we do. Our flock will rise again. In the fall or next spring, we will have lambs again. The life cycle continues.

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Thank you so much for stopping by the homestead and until next time, may God fill your life with grace and peace.

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