#an au in which one is a king and there's a war threatening to destroy the world

[beautitudes]

✨ sirius, sirius, sirius ✨

[dramioneasks]

Do you know any fics where Draco and Hermione are in a forced marriage. Voldy wins AU or during war time, and D comes home after killing people and H knows and hates it?

Shadows of Ourselves By: InkFairy - T, 32 chapters - Draco Malfoy has played both sides of the war for years, but when Voldemort gives him an ultimatum—bring him Hermione Granger or die—she surprisingly agrees to be handed over to the Dark Lord. Together, they take pureblood society by storm as Master and Madam Malfoy, all while trying to help the Order find and destroy the last Horcruxes and defeat Voldemort forever.

The Breaker of Bonds - Canttouchthis - E, 29 chapters, Words: 173,955 - In Voldemort’s kingdom, Hermione and Draco are nothing but battered trinkets for the king’s entertainment. But there are more players than the mad king knows, and the game is far from over. A Voldemort wins AU inspired by Game of Thrones.

The Vow By: lun27 - M, 14 chapters - Hermione didn’t think her life could get any worse, but the Malfoys are experts at proving her wrong at every turn. So she plays along with their game of tug of war while Voldemort rises to power and threatens their very life. Dramione Marriage Law AU.

Last Words by RebelVale - M, 24 chapters - After two and a half years on the run Hermione’s luck runs out and she finds herself on her knees with Draco Malfoy’s wand at her throat and no one left to save her. “Last words Granger?” AU where Harry doesn’t survive the battle of Hogwarts. Substantially revised version of work previously published elsewhere.

Entanglement By: blankfish - M, WIP - “Your loyalties begin and end with me now, Granger, or have you forgotten?” he spat bitterly. At the request of the Order, Hermione Granger marries Draco Malfoy, a man she’d only ever known as her enemy. This decision leads her on a winding path of tumultuous consequences that even she could not have predicted. Dramione War AU.

Draco Takes a Mark - diamonddaydream - T, 53 chapters, Words: 184,204 - "The fact that Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy were mad for each other was the worst kept secret at Hogwarts.“ Retelling of The Half-blood Prince as a Dramione story. Crookshanks brings Draco to Hermione after she’s brought back cursed from the Department of Mysteries. Knowing the relationship they’ve carried on in secret since the Yule Ball is about to be tested, she inscribes an ancient love charm onto his left arm with surprising consequences which may affect the course of the coming war. Continues the story "Dancing with Draco ” or reads fine on its own. Complete, HEA

-Lisa

[xiyouyanyi]

Where to even begin? (a primer on the War of Investiture)

Well, first, because FSYY is canon in this AU, Azure Lion, Yellowtusk, and Peng would all be former Jie Sect immortals assisting the Shang dynasty, until they got subdued by Wenshu, Puxian, and Sage Randeng of the Chan Sect——who, because FSYY thinks all the popular Buddhist deities should be Daoists in a trenchcoat, were not yet Bodhisattvas and Buddha.

Still, the Chan Sect was allied with the Western Sect, Buddhism's predecessors, led by Sage Cundi/Zhunti and Jieyin the not-Amitabha. If we were to add the slightest historical accuracy into a story where gunpowder weapons and organized Daoism exist in 11th century BCE China, they would probably be Vedic sages and powerful Rishis.

However, to understand this AU's Camel Ridge Trio, we have to understand their factions first.

I have mentioned before that I thought the Chan Sect was at least a little prejudiced against yaoguais, as opposed to the Jie Sect and their indiscriminate admission of both human and monster disciples, so let's play with that further.

Let's make the Jie Sect's indiscriminate admission both a strength and a curse——they were indeed one big, close-knitted brotherhood under Patriarch Tongtian, who would take in the outcasts and rejects of other immortal masters, without realizing that sometimes, they got rejected for good reasons, like practicing horrible plague magic or eating people. 

Let's make them even more isolated from humanity, since, in the novel, most Jie immortals lived on islands in the middle of the ocean, as opposed to their mountain-dwelling Chan Sect rivals. As a result, they had little knowledge of King Zhou's cruelty, nor reasons to care. 

In fact, many of their rank-and-file yaoguai members might actually be okay with the brutality of the Shang culture, since in this AU, much like the historical Shang dynasty, they practiced slavery and did human sacrifices, which, hey, more free food for them! 

But most importantly, Senior Brother Wen Zhong, who worked as the Shang king's Grand Tutor, wanted their help, so of course they'd go. 

What? They killed our Daoist brothers? How dare they! First these Chan Sect pricks dragged our Patriarch into that shady Investiture project, and now they were trying to destroy us as a sect, just because we threatened their power and influence by not caring about their impossible admission standards! We'll show them!

In the novel, the Chan Sect had a huge "informed goodness" problem, mostly because there were only so many times you could pull the "It's Fated to Happen!" card to a bunch of angry people whose friends/family/sectmates you just killed.

But let's not villainize them. Let's make them just as fiercely protective of their own, believe in a righteous cause, yet still be prejudiced for reasons that made complete sense to them. 

Let them be absolutely horrified and disgusted by the human sacrifice and blood rituals, without realizing that such practices were not solely the result of yaoguai influence, but long preceded King Zhou and Su Daji.

That the scale of the sacrifices had actually been vastly reduced over time, going from hundreds to tens, and ultimately, all of these killings happened to placate the Kings of Ghosts, dead Shang kings who ruled over the proto-Underworld of this AU and essentially held their people hostage with blessings and curses.

Let taking in a disciple be the most important decision in their immortal lives, a great investment as well as a huge responsibility, so they absolutely could not afford any mistakes in their judgment.

Show them trying to de-escalate and sympathize with the angry, grieving Jie folks at first, telling them that King Zhou really needed to pay for his crimes and Grand Tutor Wen was going down with a sinking ship, yet still failing to make an impact.

Show how they did not enjoy killing their fellow Daoists, even if they knew it was Fated to Happen. Let they be gradually fed up, run out of patience, call the Jie Sect out on their "An Eye for an Eye" bullshit, and eventually become guilty of the same bullshit once the cycle of revenge was in full swing, and Shen Gongbao just kept adding fuel to this raging dumpster fire by turning their disciples and potential allies against them.

Let both sides resolve to increasingly violent responses, stop caring about mortal casualties as they basically rearrange the landscape with vast formations and dangerous magical treasures, and become vindictive because of their losses. 

Show the Jie immortals luring newly awakened young yaoguais into their ranks as cannon fodders, with the promise of food and power, and the Chan immortals starting to just kill yaoguais on sight at the late stages of the war, both to deprive their opponents of potential recruits, and because what they witnessed had cemented their beliefs that cultivated beasts would never be more than bloodthirsty, man-eating fiends.

…Yeah, to someone who survived the War of Investiture, burning down FFM and killing half of its monkey residents would be the merciful option, unironically.

Unsatisfying Resolutions

By the time Azure and Yellowtusk were dragged out of the Ten Thousand Immortals Formation on leashes, then, as an extra insult, paraded before Patriarch Tongtian in their beastly forms (the yaoguai equivalent of nakedness) on Lao Tzu's command, they would have plenty of reasons to loathe their new masters.

For extra tragedy: imagine that they were but two of the yaoguai child soldiers who quickly rose through the ranks because of their talent, but also because their seniors had perished one by one as the war dragged on, until they were the only candidates qualified to hold the three key sub-formations inside the Ten Thousand Immortal Formation.

For a moment, they thought this would be it, that they would witness the utter and complete destruction of their sect inside their last and greatest formation, and immediately get their heads chopped off afterwards——not that they didn't deserve death for their failures.

Then Yuanshi and Tongtian's master showed up out of nowhere, basically forced the two sects into complete ceasefire under the threat of death, and left.

An extremely confusing and unsatisfying end, much like the war itself.

But, by the time the Zhou army marched into the Shang capital, by the time King Zhou perished in his flaming palace and the Three Demonesses' heads hung on a flagpole, everyone was just too exhausted to fight and glad that this shit was finally over.

Well, after the dead were called upon the Terrace of Investiture and ascended to godhood, they'd have all the time in the world to engage in their old grudges and factionalism under the Celestial Host. 

The Jie Sect, their ranks heavily decimated, completely withdrew from the mainland and vowed to never participate in the affairs of mortals again.

They would become both the precursor to——and later be absorbed by——the Three Islands of Immortals in the East Sea, one of the two major gathering spots of unaligned immortals, as well as "divine beasts" like dragons, phoenix and qilins who are honestly just socially acceptable yaoguais. 

Their opponents came out better, but were far from unscathed. About halfway through the war, to avenge their brother, Zhao Gongming's three sisters had unleashed their most powerful treasure, capturing the 12 masters of the Chan Sect in the Chaos Origin Golden Vessel(混元金斗), which rendered centuries of their cultivation naught and reverted them to mortal once more.

Essentially, they had to start their cultivation from the ground up, before age and mortality caught up with them again. Some would not make it. Some could, but choose not to, like Ju Liusun, Puxian, and Cihang, who willingly casted themselves into samsara out of disgust and grief, as well as a vague sense that their destiny lay elsewhere.

In the end, only 5 of the original 12 would remain: Guangcheng Zi, Chijing Zi, Taiyi, Yuding, and Wenshu——who, despite regaining his immortality in no time, quitted the Chan Sect and followed Sage Randeng into Western Sect lands.

From Deification to Monke

As previously mentioned: deification did nothing to settle old grudges. They just went about it in more subtle ways, and the JE quickly found out just how much of a hassle it was to give orders to a bunch of people who didn't want to be here in the first place.

...Guess he really shouldn't have accepted the Investiture Recruitment Project in exchange for leaving the Chan 12 alone, huh?

Even the ones who didn't hate their jobs were not exactly eager workers. A good portion of them just wanted to sit back and enjoy their eternal luxury retirement home, after dying horribly in battle. Some were the same assholes they were in life, except now they were literally gods of plagues, disasters, and ill omens.

Overall, most of the new Celestial Bureaucracy were deified Jie Sect members, and even in life, their faction was quite distant from humanity.

Now that they were gods, they had even fewer reasons to care about mortals, or feel any guilt over their sufferings. We died for your petty king and your petty wars once, isn't that enough? 

Thankfully, the compilers of the Investiture did recognize that making mortal enemies work alongside each other was a terrible idea, and tried to keep them in separate departments at least. 

For example, Huang Feihu and Huang Tianhua: they were made the King of Mount Tai and Prince Bingling of the Three Mountains, the former basically being the new lord of the Underworld, who was appointed with the explicit purpose of forcing the other Kings of Ghosts into submission and making sure the dead Shang rulers would not try to avenge their fallen dynasty.

Nezha, by virtue of all the people he sent into the Investiture, was one of the few who could keep the new court in line, even though Li Jing pretty much forced him into taking up JE's offer alongside him. Same for Grand Tutor Wen, who was now head of the Thunder Bureau. 

Yang Jian took one look at his new coworkers, went "Nope", and returned to the kingdom of Shu because he just couldn't be bothered to get chummy with those he personally slayed, most of whom still hated his guts.

Unsurprisingly, the war did not encourage warm, fuzzy feelings about yaoguais. The ones that did get onto the Investiture were all formal disciples of the Chan and Jie Sect, like Dragon-bearded Tiger or the 28 Lunar Mansions, which did not include mercenary warlords like the Seven Monsters of Plum Mountain, or the beastly foot soldiers on the Shang side.

After all, there were only 365 positions, and Patriarch Tongtian already had to fight for the inclusion of his yaoguai students on the Investiture.

For the majority of humans and yaoguais, death earned them a grand total of nothing. And both the new Zhou court and the surviving Shang aristocrats were eager to pin the blame entirely on King Zhou and his demonic consorts; the former needed to stabilize their base of power once their last few immortal helpers left, and required the latter's cooperation, even at the cost of letting them conveniently absolve themselves of guilt.

So basically, it was all Daji and their yaoguai allies' fault. Such was how the War of the Investiture would be remembered in the official history records.

Over the next several hundred years, the Zhou dynasty slowly fractured, the Western Sect began to rise and transform in anticipation of the Buddha of the Present, and JE started offering Western Sect members internship in the hope that they might actually be motivated to do their damn jobs. 

One of those interns was a Rakshasi woman wielding an iron fan, who quickly rose up the ranks of the Wind Bureau and became its new Grand Mistress. 

She was met with little to no resistance; the original Grand Mistress, Lady Hanzhi, was a notorious busy-body while she was alive, whose motto was "Your business is my business!" and didn't quite understand why people might not want her help, or dislike her for constantly poking her nose into other folks' personal life.

Post-deification, she did start to feel some doubts, after Zhao Gongming's sisters ripped her a new one when she tried to socialize with them, for basically dragging their brother into the conflict that led to his death. 

Old habits die hard, though, and the Wind Bureau wasn't even its own branch, just a Thunder Bureau subsidiary, leaving her with plenty of free time to gossip and organize all sorts of inter-department social events——to the point where both Wen Zhong and JE started pressuring her to tone it down.

So when PIF joined, Hanzhi was perfectly happy to help out the newbie in any ways she could. Like, this girl was ambitious, eager to make a name for herself, and actually wanted to do a good job, while Hanzhi? She was perfectly happy to hand most of her duties to someone else and resign to a lesser position where she could actually slack off and chit-chat in peace. 

Meanwhile, in the East Sea, on a mountain, a stone was slowly nurtured by Heaven and Earth.

[journeythroughlifesblog]

'Help' au Chapter 6. (part three)

The night was calm. This time there was no demon wanting to attack. The stars in the sky shone like never before. The moon was full. He illuminated the clearing with his light. Night was a warrior's favorite time of day. Quiet and calm as it might seem to a mere mortal, but not to a six-eared Macaque. He could hear the faint rustling of the grass caused by the gentle breeze of the pleasant breeze. He could hear the pilgrims' breaths and heartbeats, but the most important wonders for a warrior were the calm breathing and the proper functioning of his king's heart. At least his sun could rest for the night. This tea really lasts a long time, he thought. Hearing his lover's breathing and heartbeat had a calming effect on Macaqua. Looking at the stars, he began to think about what would happen and what he could do. I will definitely watch him every step of the way, I can't let the same situation happen when he saw that monk. I've never seen sunlight so scared before, it could have ended with a heart attack, but thanks to this tea.. may it never happen again. I need to think of something about this end of the journey… but what? I can't just bot it or they'll figure it out. I can't tell him the truth so suddenly, it will end badly, but on the other hand, if I don't tell him, he'll be even angrier. Nezha mentioned that the crown was supposed to control him and especially his fury, which means that damn crown from what I can see can activate itself. I don't know what happens when it activates with a sudden surge of energy… I have a bad feeling about it. But wait, since they already had this crown planned and knew what it was for, the question is what do they want to use Wukong for in the future? They certainly didn't want him for anything. Surely they know something that is a threat to them, that's why they need Wkong, because he was able to destroy almost the entire sky. And this leads to the conclusion that a war is brewing in which he was supposed to be part of Wukong. Used as a weapon… oh no, no, no!! But that was their original plan, they don't know what state he's in yet. They've already sentenced him. I can't let that happen! What can I do? What can I do… Guain can help, Nezha. Who else? Maybe DBK even though we are on bad terms he would definitely fight. If it wasn't for the brotherhood that was imprisoned maybe… not them, a bunch of clowns are out. Maybe the pilgrims, but they're too weak. Even though their fight with me was quite ok. Okay, now the question is who does heaven fear the most? Who is threatening them? And so the warrior thought all night. Looking at the stars looking for answers. At first the king dreamed of nothing. He wanted rest. Rest and nothing else. He felt better. He could breathe freely. The ground wasn't the most comfortable place to sleep, but it had to be enough until he got home. Oh how he longed to see his mountain and herd again. Let them be nothing, he thought. He was already relaxed when he got a vision of probably fighting, but he couldn't tell for sure because he saw everything blurry. As one vision ended, another appeared. He saw something like a mountain and at the same time a glow of energy similar to his own energy and yet different. He couldn't explain it, but it was nice, similar, familiar… the vision was gone. A chill appeared. He felt his body stiffen from the cold. He couldn't do anything about it in this dream. He had a bad feeling about the future.

[5sosfanfictioncatalogue]

Dark/Gore/Horror Masterlist

All This Hurt Can Finally Fade, Promise Me You'll Never Feel Afraid (ao3) - onceuponatime michael/luke M, 1k

Summary: The zombie apocalypse has happened and Luke has been bitten.

among us (ao3) - hummingluke luke/ashton M, 2k

Summary: "Luke clenches his jaw as he looks back down at the cups of swirling black sludge. He hates this. They’re scheduled to be on Polus for another month and a half, but more and more he finds himself hoping it’s over sooner than that, because he can’t stand the fear and distrust permeating every space on the base. He just wants to leave this hell, and he’s starting to care less and less whether that happens via the dropship, or a quick fall into the lava pit."

or, the Among Us AU that nobody asked for

come alive and bring the thunder (ao3) - merlypops michael/luke E, 36k

Summary: Prince Luke of the Faeries is forced to marry King Michael after a War between kingdoms threatens to tear their lives apart… and maybe Luke and Michael fall in love too. Maybe.

dreams you left behind (ao3) - rocketshiptospace luke/ashton, michael/calum T, 10k

Summary: Luke's aircraft crashes in the middle of a zombie invested area. An unexpected voice from his radio becomes his savior.

fear the fever (ao3) - kingscrossinseptember luke/ashton M, 8k

Summary: The breeze shifts and Ashton catches a whiff of a new scent that makes his heartbeat stutter. It’s cold and metallic and hungry in a way that shouldn’t be possible to emulate via smell, which means it can only be one thing: a vampire.

gone off the razor's edge (ao3) - kingscrossinseptember calum/ashton M, 1k

Summary: “You knew I might cause the apocalypse and you still decided to date me?” Calum’s voice rose several octaves as he spoke.

“What can I say, everybody makes bad choices.” Ashton offered up a trembling smile and Calum let out a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

i'm not alone (ao3) - orphan_account ot4 M, 22k

Summary: calum had worked hard to get into uni on a sports scholarship. all he wanted was to play football, pass his classes and meet the occasional hot guy.

instead, he moves into a haunted house with his best friend and discovers he might have magic powers? this starting to smell like a netflix original series to anyone else? at least there are still hot love interests, right?

nightmare treatment (ao3) - fermentedpotato michael/luke, calum/ashton M, 32k

Summary: Michael doesn't show up to a meeting; Luke lives a nightmare

spread your wings for me (ao3) - orphan_account luke/ashton N/R, 32k

Summary: He likes watching Luke cough on smoke from a joint, or cry when he gets his lip pierced, or whine when he rides Ashton filthily. He likes the bruises he leaves on Luke’s thighs, and he likes that Luke has to wear turtlenecks to hide his hickeys covering his neck.

He likes destroying Luke’s innocence one little piece at a time.

And this is just another piece that he’s taking for himself.

Or the one where Ashton likes to watch Luke pray, and Luke is more than happy to serve the bad boy of the school.

stay on the path (ao3) - mimi_reads T, 1k

Summary: It's common knowledge that when one goes into the woods, one should stay on the path.

or, another horror story about 5sos

The Artist (ao3) - cupcakemuke michael/luke T, 10k

Summary: luke loves to draw, and michael becomes his muse

There’s no Pride in Sharing Scars to Prove It (ao3) - tigerlily_sunshine michael/calum, luke/ashton M, 15k

Summary: “D’you think that, maybe, life isn’t supposed to be good for some people?” asks Michael. “Like d’you think that, maybe, life is just supposed to be awful and then you die? I mean, you know, for some people?”

“I am certainly the last person you should pose that question to,” answers Calum, “but maybe.”

(In which Michael’s only friends in the entire world are ghosts.)

To Be Unbridled And Unburned (ao3) - Branithar michael/calum, luke/ashton E, 8k

Summary: Since a wealthy businessman found his pelt while he was relaxing on a beach several years ago, Calum's done his best to make the most of his new life. He hasn't been able to like his wife or their home or their neighbours, but he's surviving, at least. Unbeknownst to him, rumours of what his father-in-law did have spread and a shady group of traveling magicians have taken interest in his situation.

Will Be - @daydadahlias (cornflowerblue (daydadahlias)) calum/ashton, michael/ashton, roy/calum, calum/omc, ashton/omc E, 57k

Summary: Calum lives in a small town, and that'd be all well and good if "gay" wasn't a word whispered under the breath and he wasn't fucking the preacher's son along with a handful of other men. He's racking up on secrets, but the newest one he's harboring may be what finally takes everything else down with it.

would you kill for me, my darling? (ao3) - mimi_reads michael/luke M, 1k

Summary: Michael and Luke have a conversation with unexpected consequences.

Your Eyes Are Cooler Than My Beating Heart (ao3) - CliffordAffliction michael/luke E, 64k

Summary: Michael is a demon who somehow makes Luke want to die and live all at the same time

[geekgemsspooksandtoons]

I’ll just admit this silly thing concerning my Transformers and Godzilla/Monsterverse AU’s I had tried developing. More so my Transformers one and what I was thinking concerning my Godzilla/Monsterverse one.

They usually seem to take ques or ideas from a certain cinematic vision of one director that has inspired me. Because my thought process is, “How do I make the best versions of these characters?” and the developing story seems to go like this.

1. Part 1 is a story that is almost an origin where the main character faces their first greatest challenge against Megatron. Here’s more details concerning this developing AU. https://www.tumblr.com/geekgemsspooksandtoons/716632212644216832/old-cybertronian-warfare-synopsiss?source=share https://www.tumblr.com/geekgemsspooksandtoons/716630447526936576/old-transformers-au-writing-stuff-and-ideas?source=share

Transformers being about an Optimus Prime who’s still being new at being the leader of the Autobots facing against Megatron. Taking the element of Rise of the Beasts...before I had even saw the film.

Godzilla being about a young adult Godzilla going from an angry animal who has been tragically affected by the nuclear fallout of the America dropping nuclear bombs. But Godzilla making the choice to fight a monster with a possible similar origin of him, but not having the tragic angle and being less sympathetic than him.

2. Part 2 would be testing the main characters in a story against a character or characters that make them rethink their existence. As their own existence is questioned by humanity and the main character making a choice for the better that they will determine their own destiny as they become the savior of the planet.

For Transformers...here are the details. https://www.tumblr.com/geekgemsspooksandtoons/716633316766498816/scrapped-dinobot-speech?source=share https://www.tumblr.com/geekgemsspooksandtoons/716635123155632128/scrapped-transformers-final-battle?source=share

For Godzilla...the developing idea was well...a mixture of ideas.

The concept of Kong going to war with Godzilla. Which is turns out, their species had a violent history with one another. Despite Kong not being a giant radioactive dinosaur, he kicks Godzilla’s ass due to not how smart he is. But also, how unrelenting he is that it actually makes Godzilla scared how a creature is determined to kill him.

Again, taking my idea of replacing the roles of the Monsterverse versions. Where Kong is the old veteran and Godzilla while being powerful, is rather young.

While the world is trying to figure out how to coexist with these monsters and what to do with them. And Mothra trying to break up the fight between Godzilla and Kong probably. King Ghidorah rises and pretty much threatens everything on the planet. And revealing the history to one of the main characters and maybe others through a mind link that doesn’t kill them. Showcasing Ghidorah’s memories that well...

The Godzillas and Kongs were rival species, they hated each other, started war with one another. But when Ghidorah arrived, he/they saw that both Alpha Titans were giant threats. So, Ghidorah waged a one Titan war against both species. Resulting in Godzillas and Kongs to unite as one. But Ghidorah drove both species to near extinction, specifically when he targeted the mothers and infants, making sure more couldn’t be made.

Yeah, Ghidorah caused massive infanticide. He/they literally killed babies. And Ghidorah was only stopped when Mothra was able to trap him somewhere, keeping him frozen for millions of years. But because of what he had done. Ghidorah basically destroyed the world. And Godzilla’s and Kong’s were driven to near extinction. While other species helped eliminating more of each species down the line such as the Skull Crawlers with the Kongs. But it was Ghidorah who started it...Ghidorah literally destroyed the world or almost destroyed the world once until Mothra had to do something to trap him.

But yeah, it ends with every human military helping Godzilla, Kong and Mothra to fight against Ghidorah as they realized how pointless their wars are compared to this. Originally, Kong wasn’t in this idea at first but...

Yeah...King Ghidorah. Destroyer of worlds, destroyer of entire species, baby killer, and whatever else. Such as being the one that destroyed the natural world of Titans, slowly making it more habitable for human beings. And this idea goes with this post here. https://www.tumblr.com/geekgemsspooksandtoons/719734669689700352/geekgemsspooksandtoons-i-legit-want-a?source=share

-

Back to the point...all of these stories...and where they got their idea...and how they get this way or the similarities...I like to thank one man. And that’s Zack Snyder. He’s the God damn blueprint.

[aimportantdragoncollector]

Coming in with a Dum Dum! Imagine Izuku tries to give AfO a cursed amulet as a "Present" because he absolutely cares about his father and would never wish harm on him and is absolutely happy to stay and has zero plans to run away to be adopted by that "Barbarian" Toshinori.

This clearly must be a fantasy world setting. I’ll let All for One be the Demon King, since that’s the only good thing which will happen to him in this AU.

Izuku is the demon prince, but he’s always admired adventurers. When the legendary Barbarian All Might puts out a notice seeking a new apprentice for his party, Izuku is determined to apply. Unfortunately, Izuku’s father cast a spell on him preventing them from ever being more than ten meters apart. (Family members hate this one trick to prevent them from escaping!)

Izuku creates a magical amulet that will trap his father inside as soon as he touches it. Then Izuku offers up the amulet as a birthday gift. As soon as All for One puts it on, he’s sucked into the glowing red gem. Then Izuku can disguise himself, leave the castle, and head off to be an adventurer.

All for One is shocked—and then deliriously happy! Finally he has a family member who loves him enough to vault him! All for One refuses to believe that Izuku doesn’t want to be stuck with him and insists this is proof of love. For the entirety of Izuku’s adventures, he’s stuck with All for One as a ghost giving him evil advice.

Izuku successfully becomes All Might’s apprentice. They get sent on a mission to kill the demon king. To their surprise, all the demons they meet are extremely friendly and welcoming. (Izuku is sweating bullets and quietly threatening people not to reveal his real identity.) The party concludes that demons have an unfairly poor reputation and abandon the mission. This ushers in a new era of peace and harmony between humans and demons. All for One is miffed because he spent years trying to destroy interspecies relations so he could begin his war of conquest.

[ecto-stone]

Friend From the Other Side AU?? or FFOS!AU for short

Is created originally as a One shot comic “ Biology Lesson” Base on the Idea of What if Vlad is a Teen and a Ghost that turn half Human ,the total opposite from Danny Human to Ghost.

Latter grow into a full AU as it some how gain a lots of attention.And as a result of it rapid unplanned growth it share alots of it lore with it brother AU My Blood. So thing like

-Hivemind Demons Spectra, Unworld Dimension, what is Elsewhereness,The Dark Dragon Family Drama, Evil Observants, ect ... ect ..Advance Rework of DP original power system is expected.

Main Protag

Danny (Daniel) James Fenton Age: 14 (when turn Halfa) , 15 (when AU story started) Height: 167 cm Personality: Shy and Quiet, stoic a bit of a Loner, but Quite Bold as Phantom

Core Element: Ice      Soul Element: Water-Air Alias: Phantom, Inviso Bill, The White Haired One (by the Yeti), Ghost Boy. Backstory After the Portal didn’t activate. Mr and Mrs Fenton cut the power to the portal and go back to check the blue print and the calculation to see what could possibly be wrong. Mean while Danny and his friend who is over for a Sleep over ,coming down to the basement for some nice mad science theme photo shoot. Each of them coming down through the portal ladder to take a pic, Sam, Tucker, But when it Danny turn he jump down mid ladder to a loud thunk to look cool.

But then the portal Suddenly glow Bright, sound of electric hissing and buzzing through air, turn out Synth Ecto Plasm is a great Energy storage substant. There was a big Flash, and young Danny stuck in the portal hole unable to escape in time suffer the full blash.

Time of the accident Amity Park, Fenton House hold, 2:25 AM,  30/8/20xx Danny fall into a 4 month coma afterward, result in his social life get ruin. As his accident get on the new and while the fenton parent blame Sam for the Idea, Sam parent threatened to sue the Fenton for threatening their children life by letting them come into a Dangerous lab unspervised.

Result in Sam is Ban from ever coming close to the Fenton again. While the Foley stay quiet and avoid the issue entirely. After woken up from the coma, Danny start developing Ghost Power. And starting his work as a Ghost Hunter as he found out the portal open caused the entire town to suffer from a horrible ghost infestation.

Phantom first sighting is on May 5

CO-Protagonist

Vladimir Judy Plasmius/Fenton/Masters. Age: 13 (in ghost year when turn halfa), 14 (when AU started) Height: 159 cm Personality: Sassy,Mischevious and hyper, with a hint of abandonment issue

Core Element: Fire --evo-->Electric   Soul Element: Earth --evo--> Metal Alias: Little Wisconsin Ghost, Plasmius, Fated Dark One (by the Observant council) Backstory After the great ghost and human war that ended back in the 20s with a truce thank to Agent W (Will Walker). The Portal and the GIW agency is dissolve. Until recently.

Time of the accident Wisconsin, GIW Omega Base, 2:25 AM,  30/8/20xx Portal Status: Destroyed Casualty: 143 Capture subject: P1-A5-M1115 Power rating: Extremely Dangerous (X) Tranfer to containment Base Delta 5 on Dec 12 Current Status: Escape (self contain) Recent Sighting: Dairy King Castle, May7                            Amity park, July 13.

How they meet: Behind a Wisconsin Denny as Danny is on a Family visiting trip. As Danny encounter a rouge ghost and assume Vlad to be the rouge ghost Only to get his Ass toss like a Salad by this Feral looking Ghost that just eat trash straight from a dumster. To which Danny later offer a burger as a peace treaty and a deal to help capture the rouge ghost. Vlad later followed Danny back to Amity Park to play role as an annoyance, before actually teaming up to aid in ghost hunting to get more Snack from Danny per deal.

What the story about?

It’s about the forming friendship of two unded boi from two different world.

and their Adventure in Both Realm.

[versadies]

Hi! Can I get

-Tri-Color Dango+ imported poultry+Mint Jelly+Dango Milk+Mustard?

Whether Baal plays a good or evil role in fairytale AU is fine! I think both will turn out equally interesting.

the dark fairy — raiden shogun x gn!reader

‿୨♡୧‿︵ BON APETIT MY FELLOW CUSTOMER ! ︵‿୨♡୧‿

name of order. THE DARK FAIRY

date. raiden shogun and ayato (w/ gn!reader)

receipt. tri-color dango (raiden shogun) + imported poultry (fairytale au) + mint jelly (fluff) + dango milk (normal!raiden-shogun) + mustard (drabble)

spices. fairytale au (the sleeping beauty), angst/fluff, mentions of war, mentions of blood, violence, spoilers to raiden shogun's real name, ayato makes an appearance here but isn't really important, mentions of betrayal

ingredients. in which ei finds love in you, a human who sees her more than just some evil fairy that your people would tell as scary stories to their children.

vip list. @scaraslover @saving-for-xiao @dawgimsohot @kazu-topia @hoshikistarlight @aqualesha @renamichii @serami00 @chiruru @shenhesl0ver

chef's note. hope you enjoy this !! i super got excited when i saw this bcuz my first thought is raiden as maleficient's role of her movie (even more so when i decided to make reader the spouse of the (evil) king instead of making them the child of the king since the age would be weird) <333

despite the stories and encounters some humans in the kingdom of eien have faced, ei is not an evil person, but a fairy who swears to go full devotion in keeping her home safe from the filthy hands of those who has ill intents against the enchanted forest – the last remaining place that protects and contains magical creatures and things alike – as ordered by her sister, makoto, who has long passed away after being slain by a human.

every single story that a human has said about the “dark fairy of the enchanted forest” are all nothing but a story of how ei protected the forest with both her excellent skills in martial arts and in dark magic. the infamous war between enchanted creatures vs an army from the kingdom of eien has further proved that ei is indeed one powerful fairy after destroying half the army with just the slam of her staff, winning the war in the process and forced the king to have no choice but obey her wishes in leaving the forest alone.

sure, her appearance may seem.. intimidating, but she could care less in changing it since it can threaten those who dare to harm the forest on her watch.

so when she first encounters a human who isn’t afraid of her nor intends to harm anyone or anything in the enchanted forest, she was shocked to say the least. are you perhaps a shapeshifter who pretends to be human and forgot to shift back? or were you perhaps another elf who hid their ears to trick others into thinking you’re human?

it was the fact that the fairy couldn’t trace nor sense any magic from you that gave ei one last confirmation that you are indeed a human who’s harmless to her kind.

you quickly noticed her presence as you were busy petting a small creature who’s satisfied with your touch, letting out a sigh of relief.. “oh thank goodness you’re here – i honestly thought i won’t make it back to the kingdom.” you spoke, slowly standing up from kneeling on the ground as ei furrows her eyebrows. can’t you see her horns? her wings? why aren’t you scared of her?

“i hope i’m not disturbing you or anyone else around the forest. i just needed to get away from the palace for some fresh air–”

“you could’ve stayed by the kingdom grounds instead of running far away to a place like this, human.” the fairy interrupts, her stern and echoing voice causes a few birds above to fly away. “you should leave now when you have the chance. you’re lucky i decided to not attack you straight away.”

you laughed lightly in response, trying to lighten up the atmosphere around the two of you. “that was the plan, actually. but i fear that i’m quite lost since the forest is far larger than i expected. could you… show me the way back? i promise, i won’t tell a single soul that i came here and–”

“there’s no need,” ei looks away from your gaze, moving her staff around before the trees behind you suddenly start moving to make a pathway, causing your eyes to widen in awe. “just follow that path and you’ll be able to make it out of the forest. i expect to not come across you again.”

you nodded in response, bowing to the fairy. “you have my gratitude ms. fairy.” you spoke before heading towards the pathway in a rush, leaving ei alone watching you go away.

perhaps not all humans are bad.

she honestly thought she’ll never see you again, and it confuses her to no end that she feels… disappointed.

it didn’t even take a week before she encountered you once more, but this time, she finds you crouching in front of the forest in quite a formal outfit (something that’s very much so different from the attire you wore last time), a frown visible on your face.

“i take it that you’re here once more for fresh air?” ei spoke first, surprising you in the process as you instantly stood up from the ground, still facing in the opposite direction.

“forgive me.. i know i’m not allowed inside the forest so.. i decided to just stay outside the forest instead.” you replied, shoulders still slumped.

it feels strange, really. ei had never thought she'd find herself talking to another human in such a calm and civil way with them despite the differences between each other. then again, you’re quite an interesting human.

the fairy stays silent for a moment, looking at her staff before looking back at you with a small sigh. “...you may stay around here as long as you want, but you must return before the sun falls.”

she quickly notices the way your shoulders were slowly no longer slumping anymore, watching you turn around to her with a hopeful look on your face. “really?” you ask.

ei nodded slowly. “yes. though, this doesn’t mean i’ll leave you alone for good, as the protector of the enchanted forest, i must ensure that you’re truly here without any ill intent towards my home.”

you nodded in understanding, your smile still held up. “you’ll have to keep me company for a looong time then, i have no ill intentions towards a place as special as the enchanted forest.”

the woman blinks a few times, processing your words for a moment.

“...i’ll take your word for it.”

since then, ei started finding herself enjoying your company as you often sneak out from the kingdom grounds just to get some “fresh air” from your life, chatting the day away with the dark fairy all day about basically anything as you admire the view of the kingdom from afar.

it only took months before the dark fairy finally welcomed you to the enchanted forest, catching a lot of enchanted creatures’ attention for the first time, especially a certain fox who has come to notice ei’s uplifting mood for the past months.

“not only is my dearest friend in a good mood for a long time, but has also invited a human to the enchanted forest for the first time in forever.” yae miko comments, turning into her human form as ei arrives at her sanctuary. “don’t tell me the dark fairy of the enchanted forest has gone soft over a human, that would be quite a turn of events for everyone who knows you.”

ei ignores the mischievous woman and continues walking towards her room. “i could care less what everyone else thinks. the human has proved that they mean no harm to our home–”

“that fact alone would quite please the king from that ginormous palace then.” the pink-haired woman retorts, smirking at the confused look that began to form at the dark fairy’s face. “especially since that human you’re so fond of is his spouse.”

those words alone made ei stop her tracks, causing yae to further explain about you with a giggle. “it’s quite endearing really. to see you chat with the person who’s vowed to marry the king who ordered his pesky men to kill your sister, do you think he ordered them to kill you too once you’ve gone too soft?”

the sudden drop of atmosphere alongside the dark energy emanating from the fairy had gone noticed by the woman, who’s all the more amused of her master’s reactions.

“y/n.. would never kill me,” ei said, not bothering to face the fox. “they would’ve killed me long ago – especially when i slept on their lap or.. or when i turned away from them for a few minutes – they could’ve killed me when they had multiple chances.”

“are you trying to convince me or are you just convincing yourself with that explanation?”

ei tried to come up with words, trying to convince her familiar that no, you are not the same as those who have wronged her and everyone in the forest, but all of her words are stuck in her throat.

she wanted to talk to you about it, only for you to beat her to it.

“ei…” you held her hands, looking at her with sad eyes. “i trust that you won't do anything no matter what i’m about to say… right?”

the woman stares at you with furrowed eyebrows, conflicted with her complicated emotions that she can’t find herself to explain. despite already knowing your identity, the fairy couldn’t find herself to be angry about it. just how much have you affected her to the point where she couldn’t bring herself to hate someone like you? someone who looks past her scary appearance and dark stories about her that’s been spread around your kingdom and sees her that no other human would see her as: a friend.

“...you have my word, y/n.” she spoke carefully, as if it would crush your soul if she said the wrong words.

you smile, though it doesn’t reach your eyes.

“..i’m cursed by the king.”

silence.

ei’s mouth was open agape, her conflicted expression soon turned to shock as her breath hitches from your words. cursed? since when can humans use dark magic?

you caress the fairy’s hands, looking away from her strong gaze in sadness. “i’m sure you know of this already but i’ll soon become the king’s spouse in due time… so he was quite furious when he found out about his own fiance running away from the kingdom just to visit his opponent’s land.”

the fairy stays silent, processing your explanation.

“apparently.. the general followed me the other day and spotted you and i together and told the king as soon as he came back to the palace.” your voice shakes. “i-i tried to deny that i’ve been seeing you but he just became angrier from that. so he called the sorcerer of the palace and cursed me.”

“as soon as the next full moon has passed, i shall be lured towards the nearest spindle wheel and fall into deep slumber from just a prick of the needle,” you recited the curse. it dawns on ei that the next full moon will be tomorrow. “only true love’s kiss shall break the curse.”

if it weren’t for your grip on her hands, ei would’ve clenched them into fists and face the king in anger. how dare he curse an innocent person like you for only keeping a fairy company?!

“when did he curse you?”

“...last night.”

the fairy lets in a deep breath, refraining herself from scaring you of her anger.

“it feels good to let this out from my chest, to be quite frank,” you commented, trying to lighten up the mood. “i… i guess sleeping for eternity is quite better than being with someone as power-hungry as he.”

the dark fairy grits her teeth, angry at herself for not noticing the presence of a curse from you when she saw you. if only she wasn’t so interested in you then maybe you wouldn’t have been cursed by the king out of jealousy and suffer the consequences alone.

she absolutely can’t let this slide.

ei slowly stands up from the ground, summoning her staff as she faces your direction with a determined look on her face. “it won’t hurt to try and cure you with my magic, don’t you think?”

you stayed silent in response, letting the dark fairy do as she wishes towards you.

she points her staff towards you, her purple orbs glowing from the process. “by the power of dark magic, let this eternal curse be gone no more and cure the unfortunate soul from eternal slumber.”

nothing happened.

not a single sight of magic came from her staff, nor were there any dark energy coming out from you.

“...nothing will work, ei.” you spoke defeatedly, still looking down at your lap. “the only cure is my true love, you know that.”

ei clenches her staff tight. she refuses to lose another person again - not when she finally found comfort in you and sees you as a friend –

or maybe… even more than a friend.

you slowly stood up from the ground and faced the woman. “it’s fine, ei. i don’t mind having this curse if it’s the consequence i’ll receive from spending time with you. besides.. i think i already know who my true love is.”

her eyes widened. you’re in love with someone else?

your smile became genuine and loving this time from just thinking about someone she doesn’t know. could it be another ruler from the neighboring kingdoms? or perhaps someone who’s outside from the palace?

“i met them many moons ago, and i find myself spending time with them as time proceeds. the king isn’t aware of them since they’re not from the palace, but somewhere… near the enchanted forest.” you confessed. “although i’m unsure of their feelings towards me, i still indulge myself into thinking they’re my true love.”

“...who are they?”

before you could open your mouth and say something, both of you were interrupted by the sounds of horses and men coming not too far away from where you are.

“there they are!” the general shout, pointing his sword towards you as he and some knights following became nearer and nearer.

just as ei tries to cast her magic and open her wings to protect you, the general immediately throws some kind of potion at the two of you, causing the vial to break and let out dark smoke surround the both of you.

the dark fairy calls out to you when you immediately pass out from the intoxicated smoke, rushing towards you with worry.

it only took a few seconds before ei finds herself falling down to the ground as well, causing her eyes to widen in realization that she too have been intoxicated from the smoke, to which the dark fairy grasps it contains dark magic and not an herbal kind.

ei slowly reaches her hand out towards you, paying no mind to how her vision starts to blur (and how a certain pink-haired lady has suddenly appeared out of nowhere)

i’ll come to you when i wake up.

.

.

.

by the time ei comes back to you, it was too late.

as soon as she woke up in her sanctuary (thanks to yae miko, who wasn’t pleased that she had to deal with the guards), ei didn’t hesitate to start looking for the person you love. it was quite hard, really. there’s not a single person in sight who’s walking around the outskirts of the forest as she flies around the forest.

it wasn’t until she spotted a man riding his horse around the place when she instantly flew straight to him.

“do you know y/n?” she asks, paying no mind to how the man’s horse panics when she lands on the ground.

“...you know them?” the man asks, tilting his head. “my name is ayato, have you se–”

ei immediately interrupts the man by the flick of her hand, causing him to instantly pass out on his horse.

now, all she has to do is to get to you.

the king was truly such a hassle for the fairy. not only did he curse the person she’s dearly fond of, but had also made the whole kingdom (or maybe even the entire nation) that she was the one who cursed you, causing the people to become angered at both the dark fairy and those from the enchanted forest.

so it was quite nice to see the king fall to his knees in front of her, bleeding from his injuries that she made herself as his back leans against the edge of the roof they’re on.

“it’s too late for you,” he said with a cackle, blood sprouting out from his mouth. “you will never wake them up, not when the–”

ei suddenly kicks the king without letting him finish, watching him fall down to his death. “inferior.”

the dark fairy took a few steps back, taking a deep breath as she relished the relief that the person who killed her sister had passed away.

the relief dies as soon as she hears ayato, who’s still passed out and is currently floating thanks to her magic, snoring loudly. how irritating, she thinks, huffing before walking back inside the palace and starts looking for your room. what do you even see in this man?

it was quite hard to look for your chambers, she’ll admit. every time she opens a door and doesn’t see you, her worries grow as well as her disappointment. as soon as you wake up, the better it’ll be for her, even if she has to watch you get kissed by another and be with him for the rest of your life.

when she opens the door, her heart is crushed at the sight of your bedroom.

the king was too cruel. how could he let you sleep in such a place that is less than a prison room?

ei slowly walk towards you, clenching her teeth when she sees your unconscious state. you looked so pale, a person would’ve mistaken you to be dead.

she flicks her hand once more, unbothered by the sound of a loud thud from ayato behind her, who instantly groans from the impact of his fall.

“where am i–”

“wake y/n up.” ei commands, still staring at you with a frown. “i can’t bear to see them unconscious.”

ayato slowly stands up, now realizing his surroundings alongside the sight of you laying on a bed. “...what do you mean wake y/n up?”

the fairy clenches her fists. “only true love’s kiss can wake them up. you’re the only one who can do it.” she clarifies, looking at the man with a glare.

the man hesitates for a moment, staring down at you. just what is he hesitating about?

ei instantly takes a few steps aside when ayato starts walking towards you, her heart races in anticipation as he comes closer and closer to you before he finds himself leaning close to your face.

he then leans his lips against yours and she could only close her eyes in sadness.

it took only a few seconds before the man instantly pulls away, staring down at you with hopes that he’ll see your orbs-

only to find your eyes still closed like before.

ayato is not your true love.

just as ayato tries to look behind and see ei, the fairy angrily flicks her hand, watching him come back to his unconscious state once more.

if ayato isn’t your true love, then who is? there’s not a single person who comes around the enchanted forest besides you – and if there was, who’s to say they’re your true love as you wished they’d be?

ei felt her shoulders slump, biting her lip in frustration. she should’ve known not to become attached to you, everyone she loves would always end up being out of her reach.

she lets out a shaky breath, kneeling down against the concreted floor as she uses the staff as her support.

“forgive me, y/n,” she whispers. “i failed you.. it’s my fault that you were cursed in the first place.. i should’ve forced you to leave when i had the chance.”

it’s my fault that i fell in love with you.

she glances around the room for just a moment, before she uses her staff once more and transforms the cold and lifeless room into an extravagant and comfortable one. if she can’t wake you up, the best thing she can do is to make your surroundings a sanctuary just like hers, a place where you’ll find comfort even when you’ll never see the day with ei again.

“i’m.. i’m glad to have met a human like you, y/n.” she spoke, slowly standing up before walking towards you as well. “maybe when celestia allows, we’ll meet again in a world where they’ll accept me as much as how you accepted me.”

she musters up the courage to plant a kiss on your forehead, closing her eyes to savor the feeling of being able to be affectionate for the first time in centuries.

‘till we meet again, y/n. she thought, pulling away from your forehead and immediately wiping the tears that began to form in her eyes.

she gasped when she saw your familiar e/c orbs staring back at hers.

“i’m glad to have met someone like you as well, ei.”

[tossawary]

2,500 words of the Moshang Forced Marriage AU, in which the PIDW plot is turned off and Tianlang-Jun doesn’t fall, but this only causes even more problems for Mobei-Jun and Shang Qinghua. Written on my phone. 

- 

Shang Qinghua stumbled back into his leisure house with a jar of Zui Xian Peak’s best light wine in one hand and a sack of Qian Cao Peak’s tastiest specialty melon seeds in the other. He kicked the door closed, kicked off his shoes, and then kicked back for some quality lounging. 

   “Ahhh, now this is more like it!” he declared, wiggling into the cushions worthy of a head disciple’s house. “It’s all shoving off my chores onto other people from here on out! Having flatcakes on order with a snap of my fingers! Making some other poor bastard deal with Shen Qingqiu and Liu Qingge - at each other’s throats even at Yue-Shixiong’s nice dinner to celebrate our future ascension, eugh. I’ve really earned this! I’ve suffered enough!” 

   He dropped the sack of seeds onto the side table and fiddled with the wine, embarrassingly clumsy despite the fact that he was sober. As always, he’d been much too chicken-shit to really indulge around other people. He needed his fast reflexes for ducking and running away when he was out and about! Plus, people would freak the fuck out if a transmigrator started running his mouth, giving everyone existential issues and shit, so him waiting until he was alone to drink was really more of a societal service here than sad. 

   The Transmigration System had also been a concern before, but not anymore! 

   Shang Qinghua raised his jar and laughingly declared, “The plot is dead! Long live the free author! Ah, this toast is a little late, but better late than never, huh?” 

   At long last, this transmigrator had managed to get into the Transmigration System’s settings and turn off the plot! It had honestly been a little infuriating just how easy it had been, once he’d hit on the right combination of things to open the right settings menu. There may or may not have been a lot of outraged shrieking and frustrated crying, after all the sweat, blood, and tears he’d shed to become the head disciple of An Ding Peak. All Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky had needed to do, in the end, was flick a few buttons from “on” to “off”. Outrageous. 

   “No more missions! No more restrictions! And no more bad endings for anyone! Ah, at least for everyone besides Huan Hua Palace Sect’s old master, that is… but, heh heh, I really think that I and the new Empress Su Xiyan can live with that,” Shang Qinghua muttered, then took a drink, wiggling deeper into his lounging and feeling very good about himself. 

   He felt as free as a bird! As free as the wind! Why shouldn't he celebrate his newfound freedom and future as a Cang Qiong Peak Lord by doing a little bit of nothing at all? 

  Shang Qinghua shamelessly did his best to become a lump. As he toasted to the distant happy couple and the bouncy baby protagonist on his way, with wine and melon seeds both, he removed all but one layer of clothing, tossed his belt and his jewelry on top of the pile, and yanked everything out of his hair. He slid from a sitting position to a totally horizontal one without realizing how it had happened, then he let heavy eyes fall closed with the knowledge that everything was going to be so much better now. 

   A person knew things were good when they could fall asleep just like this. 

   Then a burst of cold air startled him into looking up at a shadowy figure stepping out of nowhere above him. Shang Qinghua shrieked with terror. 

   "SHUT UP!” the shadow snarled. “Get up!” 

   “What- my king?!” 

   Mobei-Jun didn’t wait and grabbed Shang Qinghua by the front of his robes, hauling him to his feet. The wine sloshed against the floor and the melon seeds scattered around them. Shang Qinghua yelped, choked, and then wheezed and flailed, and then yelped again as his loose robes got a little looser with the rough handling and he slipped in Mobei-Jun's grip. 

   "What- get dressed!" Mobei-Jun snapped, and then dragged him into the bedroom right away. 

   "The sight of my naked chest offends you this much, bro?!" Shang Qinghua thought, stumbling along. "There's not enough room in this house for two tits-out outfits?! What the fuck is going on?!" 

   Mobei-Jun threw Shang Qinghua towards the dresser. He just barely managed to catch himself, taking a hard wooden edge to the gut and stubbing his toe on its base, instead of falling and concussing himself at least. Shit! It still hurt, though! 

   "Get dressed!" Mobei-Jun snapped again, pointing at the dresser for emphasis. "Now!" 

   "Right away! Right away, my king!" With shaking hands, his heart thundering in his ears, Shang Qinghua pulled out the first set of robes his fingers touched. 

   "Not those!" 

   "Aah!" 

   Shang Qinghua dropped the robes onto the floor. They were the regular everyday robes of an An Ding Peak disciple, plain and sturdy, something that the demon had seen him in many times before. 

   "Wh- what's wrong with th-these?" 

   "Too plain!" Mobei-Jun barked, and stalked forward to shove Shang Qinghua aside and go through the dresser himself. 

   Shang Qinghua stumbled away and took shelter near his bed, quickly retying his current robes to prevent another fucking nip-slip or worse. He watched with wide eyes as Mobei-Jun threw his clothing to the floor as not good enough. The next drawer was yanked open with so much strength that it splintered and tilted crookedly to one side. 

   "My king, why-?! What's happening?! Are- are we going somewhere?! Who does this servant have to impress?!" 

   Mobei-Jun finished throwing aside everything in this drawer and tried to shove it back in, but it was too broken to be moved. The demon snarled, yanked the entire drawer from the dresser with another terrible splintering sound, and threw the drawer out of his way. It hit Shang Qinghua in the chest and sent him sprawling back onto his bed. 

   He lay there and wheezed without shoving it away, just feeling the impact rattle through his ribs. He heard another drawer splinter. 

   "Ah, so this is how I die?" he thought. "Just as expected: with a bang AND a whimper." 

   He pushed the drawer to one side and sat up, only to be smacked in the face with the robes thrown at him. They were the nicest robes he owned. The An Ding Peak Lord had ordered them for him for the coming ascension of a new generation of Peak Lords, so they had all sorts of fancy embroidery and several heavy layers, which meant Shang Qinghua fell back against the bed again under their weight when they hit his head. He sat up again and then gawked at these robes he had never worn and wasn't supposed to wear yet- 

   "Tianlang-Jun." 

   "Aha, what?" Shang Qinghua looked at the demon lord scowling at him. "My king…? What about Tianlang-Jun…? This- no. What?! My king, you can't mean to take this servant before the Demon Emperor, that would be ridic-" 

   "Get dressed," Mobei-Jun snapped. 

   "It's not Tianlang-Jun, right? Why-?! What's really going on here? Are we going somewhere? Are we meeting someone?" 

   Shang Qinghua got to his feet, but he didn't dare put the fancy robes on, like being nearly naked would save him from being dragged off anywhere else. No amount of nice clothing would ever make the likes of this displaced author impressive to the likes of the OP Demon Emperor, finally sitting on his late sister's throne. 

   "This servant can't serve his king to the best of his abilities unless he knows what the-" 

   "My father is dead!" 

   “...Wh… what?” 

   Mobei-Jun’s expression was like a thunderstorm. Shadows curled around his clenched fists, as light and heat fled this room that was suddenly even smaller than Shang Qinghua remembered it being. 

   "My father…" Mobei-Jun repeated, slowly, daring Shang Qinghua not to understand a second time. "...is dead." 

   Shang Qinghua stared in horror, the robes slipping out of his hands, which itched to count all the years that had just been skipped even though he knew he didn't have enough fingers. Thirty years or so? Definitely more than twenty. His breath came out in a trembling fog as he demanded: 

   "H-how?!" 

   "Tianlang-Jun," Mobei-Jun said again, through gritted teeth. 

   Good point! Good point! Who the fuck else could it be? The real question was why the fuck?! And also what the fuck was Shang Qinghua of all people supposed to do about clashes between OP demon lords?! 

   Mobei-Jun advances on Shang Qinghua, the shadows in his fists writhing like he's strangling them. "Tianlang-Jun took offense to some of my clan's foolish disrespect towards his human Empress and he made an example of my father. He has threatened to destroy the body unless a suitable gesture is made." 

   "But… the power of your ancestors…" 

   Mobei-Jun, looming over him, shoved him down to his knees to pick up the robes he had dropped, and snarled: "Get dressed." 

   Shang Qinghua snatched up the robes and skittered away to dress himself up for the slaughter. His heart was racing fast, but his mind seemed to be going even faster, almost too fast to actually think and also do things like make sure clothes weren't inside-out as he put them on. 

   The power of the Mobei clan rested in the ascension ritual in which the new king "consumed" the body of the old king. Spiritually and… er… possibly also physically? Shang Qinghua had no idea if the System had picked up on those implications or not. Anyway, if Mobei-Jun's father's body was destroyed, then he wouldn't receive that power-up necessary to enforce his rule, which would make him the target of every ambitious cousin and every greedy neighbor. The Mobei clan would probably fall into civil war and the rest of the northern kingdoms would follow them into bloody battle. 

   Shang Qinghua's favorite character, currently glaring at him for the fancy clothes probably making him look even less fancy by comparison, was sure to die. Mobei-Jun's shitty uncle had probably already picked the poisoned knife with which to stab him in the back. 

    "My king… what… what gesture is being made here…? This servant… this servant really needs to know how he's supposed to be of service…" 

   Shang Qinghua also needed to know whether or not he needed to take the first available window to run away. He definitely wasn't above leaping out of literal windows. If Mobei-Jun intended on hanging him over to Tianlang-Jun as a human sacrifice or some shit, then promises of loyalty might expire a lot sooner than originally planned! 

   At the question, Mobei-Jun's expression only darkened and the room darkened again with it. The cold seemed to spread from Shang Qinghua's skin deep into his twisting chest.

   "Marriage," Mobei-Jun said, again through gritted teeth. "Tianlang-Jun has suggested marriage to a human as a worthy gesture." 

   "M-marriage?" 

   Mobei-Jun looked so fucking murderous that Shang Qinghua knew he hadn't misheard. He had to have misheard, though, because this was absurd. 

   "Marriage betw-between me and- and…?" 

   "Yes." 

   "And… you?" 

   "Yes." 

   Shang Qinghua should have been given an award for not fainting dead away. The System should have given him a million points for every second he managed to stay conscious, except… the System had essentially been turned off. No more points. No more plot. 

   No more Proud Immortal Demon Way plot, at least. 

   Ah, was this some kind of warped vacuum effect? A new plot come to take its place? 

   "There will be great riches." 

   Shang Qinghua refocused on the demon glaring at him. Riches?! What the fuck did riches have to do with anything right now?! 

   "Mobei Clan is the second strongest in the Demon Realm," Mobei-Jun informed him, but the demon was kind of scowling like he resented this now, instead of bragging. "You would not have to work again." 

   It was a really fucking weird day when being told that his Dream Guy wanted him and that he'd never had to work again was somehow bad news. It almost sounded like Mobei-Jun was… was… trying to persuade Shang Qinghua to marry him by offering wealth, power, and a life of indolence. All things that would tempt most people! Especially blindly greedy, thigh-hugging sect traitors like his character! 

   "Did… did Tianlang-Jun tell you… to just pick any human?" Shang Qinghua asked faintly. "There weren't… there weren't any requirements…?" 

   Clearly Mobei-Jun didn't want to be tied to Shang Qinghua of all humans! 

   "He asked - laughingly - if none of us knew any humans. I said that I did." 

   Okay, Shang Qinghua fully believed that Mobei-Jun didn't know any other humans. Mobei-Jun was on a deadline and didn't have time to go find the most acclaimed matchmaker or anything. By default, Shang Qinghua was the best, most handsome, most skillful, most wellborn, most desirable, and altogether most marriageable human Mobei-Jun knew - and he was not feeling super fucking thrilled by this victory. 

   "What… what did my king say about me..? What is the Demon Emperor expecting?" Shang Qinghua could only hope expectations had been set on the floor, preferably into the floor or maybe even underground. 

   "A disciple of Cang Qiong in my service." 

   "Oh…" 

   "Fix your robes." 

   "What? Oh, shit. Right away!" 

   Shang Qinghua didn't have a lot of experience wearing robes this nice and Mobei-Jun barking at him to look less like shit wasn't helping. The fact that he was sweating from nerves and his fingers were still shaking a little also wasn't helping. He skittered around to add tasteful ornaments and jewelry, some of which got violently rejected by Mobei-Jun as too ugly to show anyone, but looking down at himself, he mostly just felt like he was throwing shiny gold onto a pile of crap. How could this really fool anyone?  

   "My king, what… what am I supposed to say to the Demon Emperor? Do you want me to lie? To the Demon Emperor?!" 

   "Do not speak unless spoken to." 

   Sure, Shang Qinghua could do that, but was he really supposed to leave the talking to Mobei-Jun?! To Mobei-Jun?! The protagonist's right-hand man had not been known for his silver tongue! Did he think people weren't going to have questions? Like, "How the fuck do you know some random human?" Or, "Holy shit, you're really going to marry THAT one?" 

   "Isn't… my king, isn't Tianlang-Jun well known for his interest in humans and human stories… though...?" 

   Love stories! Shang Qinghua was pretty sure that the man loved a good love story! How the fuck were he and Mobei-Jun supposed to pull off a love story? And make it a love story compelling enough to convince a pissed-off Tianlang-Jun to grant the Mobei Clan mercy? Shang Qinghua wasn’t totally sure he was going to be able to do anything besides break down sobbing and curl up into a pathetic ball on the floor. 

   Mobei-Jun's face twisted slightly, in the way of an angry demon who didn't want to admit that his lowly human servant actually had a super great point. Tianlang-Jun had already proven himself a man who liked to play with his food a little. 

   "Do not tell some story," Mobei-Jun snarled finally. "Do not speak unless spoken to. Do not lie." 

   "Of course! Of course! Very wise not to lie to him!” Shang Qinghua told himself to focus on the logistics here; he was the logistics man; it was what he did. If he just kept focusing on the details, he didn’t have to think about the bigger picture. “This servant will remain silent until called upon, which… when… my king, when will that be? Tomorrow morning? I have to tell-" 

   "Now." 

  "-my martial sib- what?!" 

   "Now," Mobei-Jun repeated. "He is waiting." 

[cornacopicimagines]

A Rose Blooms │t.h

pairing: prince!tom holland x princess!reader

words: 8.4k (WHOOPS)

warnings: arranged marriage, SMUT (we been knew), slight praise kink and 10000% breeding kink, therefore unprotected sex, swearing, slight cockwarming & good lord there is so much

summary: Perhaps God does have a sick sense of humour. To allow such misguided souls to one another. Souls that shouldn't be allowed to feel the sense of happiness he can provide, that should accept their dire situations. The Prince of Wales and his new bride can attest to the quite well. 

a/n: what do y'all mean a historical prince au!tom holland with major smut and breeding kink is not a thing. i know the sluts want it, even if they never ask for it. i must provide it.

masterlist

━━★✼☆｡

y/n of Burgundy was a splendid piece of artwork. A sweet and humble French Princess with a huge dowry and a bright future. It was as if DaVinci had casted the girl from Venus's shadow and gifted the baby to displeased parents. Parents who so wished for a boy, that the arrival of a healthy girl is so overlooked that the girl is better off dead. The sadness is heard across not only France but the entirety of Europe. Poor y/n of Burgundy! The Unlucky Princess of Burgundy! It's all she hears; she is deemed a tragedy before her life is even written. Perhaps that is her greatest misdeed in this life, that because she is born the wrong sex to what is expected she is casted to the side as a woman destined for slight and anguish for her entire life. Even if this is the case, y/n wished to think of herself as unwritten for the moment being. A woman waiting for a calling no matter how big or small. A woman who's only current wish to sit atop this windowsill, letting the cool September French breeze kiss her flushed cheeks. Alas, even this is stripped from her.

"Get off the window, y/n!" her mother's shrill voice shrieks as The Duchess yanks y/n to the floor. It's harsh and frantic, as if an arrow is to fly through and hit her. Her tightly coiled chest hit's the wooden floor hard. It knocks the only wind y/n really has left, a wasteful shame.

"I am sorry mama," y/n responds quietly, her hands desperately pat to find a piece of wood that will not cut up into her as she attempts to regain her balance. Though her room is filled with four maids not a single one offers their own hand to help her. She knows it is because of her mother's cowl. If they dare so move in a direction towards her, The Duchess will become a Fury of Hell himself.

"The breeze is so sweet at this time of afternoon." Finally, y/n does place her feet back on the floor with a small clack of her heels. She takes a moment to take in the state of her gown. While she has countless others, something about the pure white of the satin being destroyed by the inevitable dust that has collected is disheartening even to her. The pattern of bright red roses now looks more of a dull blood grey than a true flower.

"The breeze is something so frivolous my dear," The Duchess is suddenly content with her surroundings. "Busy yourself with something more intelligent, it makes for a much better bride." 

"Thank you for the wise advice mother," y/n snaps, her fingers gripping the ruined material of her gown. "I'll be sure to not engage myself in something that gives me the slightest bit of freedom in the lifeless castle," it was no louder than a whisper. Her braided hair still muffling the sounds.

As if her words seemed to not even reach her, The Duchess mumbles in agreement before taking her leave. The door shutting loudly behind her, the air was finally safe to breathe. The maids immediately begin to swarm her. Like flies to honey; they grapple her, prod at her and pinch her. It was too much. It was as if a million ants had swarmed her body, nipping at any piece of flesh they could just because it was what they were meant to do. An instinctive need to draw more blood than necessary, it was overwhelming. They inspected her perfectly capable hands, wondering if their incompetence has cost them their heads because y/n of Brittany split her blood and The Duchess refused to let them help. She was suffocating.

She didn't mean for it to slip, it just did. Her voice raised, "Get out." It was softer at first. "Get out," they still didn't move, still abusing her. "I said get out!" Everything stopped for a moment, the air her mother had ensued had now come back. The maids all took a single step away from her. y/n felt the tears threaten her, warning by dancing across her lower lashes. "Do none of you listen, get out for Christ’s sake!" That's all it took, in a matter of seconds y/n was finally alone. She could hear the faint song of the trees whispering to her, it was calm, but she couldn't appreciate it. She dropped to her knees and began to softly weep into her palms. The groans muffled by the skin of her hands and the tears halted from falling by her fingers. In this moment and forever ahead of her, she was desolate.

But like all things, even this bleak minute of sorrow was cut to an end by the deafening sound of her father's boots storming down the hallways towards her room.

━━★✼☆｡

Tom spectated as the pole shattered into a thousand pieces. The splinters hitting ever edge of the arena. He watched as the knight fell limp and as his horse rode on through the chaos. The young prince roared out of his seat, his knees hitting the harsh wood of the royal box. His name echoed on the young knight's medallion above his breast. He had picked the winning side and rightfully so, Sir Harrison had never been defeated. For a moment, Tom turned around to face his beaming mother. A woman who loved the games, Tom always relied on his mother to accompany him to these festivities but his father. The Prince would always ask graciously but was refused every time. Constantly belittled for the consul of old men with a working cock between them, it was a joke. The King had many failed efforts to rile the English people to cause, Tom had offered a large gathering to help inspire the people. The King told his son this would cause nothing but useless panic and many painful deaths. Scoffing, Tom waltzed back to his seat. It was uncomfortable, it felt as if ants hand made their nets below the seat's support. He wished to ride alongside them.

"You cannot and you will not," The Queen smiled at him, waving to squires as they led the horses away. Tom's head swivelled around to meet his mother's. "I refuse it my son."

"I had said nothing mother," Tom replied quietly, he too doing his duty to the lower noble men who had come out today. Each one sweatier than the last. "Perhaps you are hearing things, 10 childbirths can change a woman's mind," Tom stifled a laugh, too which he received a slap on the arm for.

"Don't play smart with me son," The Queen spoke coolly, her countless rings clanged as she rose from her seat. Tom followed suit, allowing a hand for his now middle-aged mother for gracious help down the impossibly large stairs. "I almost lost your father to one of these silly little cock shows, I will not go through it with you my boy."

Tom raised an eyebrow, watching his mother's golden trim become bleaker by the stain of the grass. "I had half a mind to believe you enjoyed these silly little cock shows," Tom played. The Queen peered up at his through hooded lids. It was dangerous waters even for him, a man who has seen the blood of war. He allowed his mother and her ladies to return to Windsor, watching as if to wait for the shark to disappear.

"Your Royal Highness, if I may have a word," a soft voice called out from below the podium. Tom paced to the edge and stared down. Constance, he thought to himself as he smiled wickedly. She was a short and mildly plump woman, with wild unruly hair that had to be constantly shoved out of her face. He remembers her name because of how sweet his name sounded dripping from her tongue. Countless nights spent in the throes of passion, wearing moonlight as cloth. Tom knew he had dishonoured her just by bedding her, but he couldn't help himself. She was the first woman who really took an interest in him. Still, he had to come to her aid on multiple occasions. While he likes the way, she grips at his biceps, he however, doesn't like when her father comes storming into court demanding his daughter's honour back because Tom had prayed on her. Perhaps, it was the odd lack of ladies that would flock to his side or maybe it was simply because he wanted a little bit of fun before the inevitable. 

"You may, my Lady," Tom smiled widely making his way to her side. He could tell the mud was ruining the polished leather of his boots, he completely forgot about his favourite riding boots he had put on in hopes that he may indulge himself in the sports. Still, he pushed the though deep down at met her eyes. He not an unusually tall man but the way he almost dwarfed her was delectable. As he watched her squirm, he wondered as to why she would speak with him where anyone could see. There was no danger for him, but the world's eyes were on her.

She played with the small ring on her pinkie finger, riding it up and down the skin. "Why did you not tell me," she whispered, refusing to look up at him. Tears began to well.

"What on earth do you mean?" He queered, genuinely curious as to what had got her all worked up. His hands went to stroke her cheek gently, but she abruptly pulled away from him. This time her eyes did meet his, the salty liquid glossed over her eyes.

"It is bad enough that I am called the Prince's Whore but now they are cursing my name because I have ruined the royal couple!" she cried out, her deep green dress swallowing the mud below. "That a stupid maid slut has stolen you away from the beautiful French Princess!"

Tom saw nothing but red. Not because of Constance but because of what she said to him. He had begged his parents to let him choose his own wife. If he was to rule England after his father's passing, he wished to at least have a woman whom he truly loved by his side. He said nothing to her as he stormed away. The small drizzle of rain hitting his skin as he picked up his speed. He knew that his father was in a council meeting alongside his mother. Perfect opportunity to unleash his rage. He faintly heard her calling after him, that was muffled by the buzzing in his ears.

He had been told who he was meant to be and what he was meant to be from the moment he was born. Hardly ever seeing his mother or younger brothers because he was eldest, never knowing true companionship because he would be constantly cooped up listening to his advisors and tutors as they taught him the art of war and foreign policies. This was his one chance to spend his life with a woman who understood him and would grow a loving family much in contrast to what he had.

His hands pushed the heavy wooden doors, they hit the walls with a large smack. The entire council stood for the Prince, with the exception of his mother and sickly father. He walked past them with ease and took his seat at the opposite end of table. His eyes focused solely on his father as he absently noted the appearance of his son.

"Wonderful of you to finally join us," The Duke of Essex smiled weakly, in any attempt to deflect the tension elsewhere.

"When were you going to tell me?" Tom spoke, his voice barely above a whisper and laced with venom. His elbows digging into the cool wood of granite of the table. He watched his father finally face him; the man was a wreck. His greying hair stuck to his hair with copious amounts of sweat, his brown eyes had sunk deadly back into the sockets and his skin was pale and filled with wrinkles. "When were you going to tell me father?"

"You were spending too much time with that scullery maid," The King respond calmly, still flipping through royal documents. Tom was on the verge of an explosion. If the Prince was known for something, it was his anger. Much like Mount Vesuvius, he didn't get angry often, he hated how it affect those around him. The times he is pushed to the breaking point however, he was destroy everything in his path. "We had to put an end to it."

"We?" Tom pushed.

"Your mother made the arrangements; she is being brought here as we speak." Once more, the King had no interest with the devastated look on the Prince's face. Too caught up in an attempt to stile a cough.

"You promised me my own choice of bride," Tom seethed. He faced his mother, if the King wouldn't listen perhaps the Queen would.

His mother sighed; the silk of her sleeves draped over the arms of the chair. "That was before you had instinctively made the choice, we hoped that perhaps you would have fallen for the daughter of a Duke or at worst an Earl. You were going to marry that girl, after everything her family has done against the court. We couldn't allow it."

Tom jaw clicked. "Who is she?" He was done arguing, done protesting.

"You'll marry the granddaughter of the French King; y/n of Burgundy," his father spoke up before his mother could sugar coat it. "The family sent a portrait of the girl as the first payment of her dowry; it has already been placed in your room. Hopefully, you can find the slightest bit of attraction for your new bride before the wedding."

"Will I get to meet her beforehand?" He at least hoped to see the girl with his own eyes before calling her his wife. Finally, the King met his eyes. He dropped the quill on the desk as locked his eyes, leaning towards him.

"Did you really think you'd get that luxury?"

━━★✼☆｡

The sea breeze prickled at y/n skin as she sat atop the deck. She could tell they were getting closer. The wind went from a soft tone to a howling scream, something her great aunt had told her all about. English weather could go from a perfect sunny day to god's worst mood. In all honesty, she preferred it to French. It was wild and unpredictable, something she so desperately needed.

She remembered how she got into this predicament as she lay down a 9 ace on the table. Waiting for the ship to land.

"You'll leave tomorrow, it will take you a good couple of days to get there." Her father exclaimed, picking a raspberry from the plate and eating the sweet fruit. y/n stood in silence, still reeling her tears back into her eyes. She refused to weep in front of the Duke. She moved around the large room, in order to hear his words. "You'll make a fine queen," he smiled, placing his hands atop her cheeks. y/n smiled warmly before raising a concern.

"How do you know this will be different than the last?" she asked quietly, staring down at her shoes. Her father sighs before picked his coat up from the chair.

y/n placed her bets, her hand is exquisite. Three queen and a pair of Kings. If she doesn't win, it's as if God is going against her. The men that sit beside her raise their brows in confusion. She's not backing down.

"Because, you know their language and their culture from Great Aunt Mary. You were her favourite after all," her father tells her, the memory of the old lady teaching her English brings a curve to her lips. That was not the answer she was looking for, however. Her father knows it as well, he knows the answer she wants but he cannot give it to her. "Trust me pumpkin," the endearment is wonderful. Unlike her mother, y/n's father has always been kind to her. She doesn't know if it because she is his eldest daughter or because her brother is a lousy boy and she is the only child with a head still attached to her shoulder blades.

She releases her tension; she knows whatever comes out of this she must go along with it. She must accept whatever situation is handed to her and accept her duty as a future queen and mother to the English Throne.

y/n squeals, her hand's won. The rest of the chips are placed in her corner, she is asking if they want to go another round but instead, they all huff and walk away from her. y/n feels her heart sink into her stomach. Perhaps the English wind has turned their moods sour. Soon enough her worries are washed away as the boat docks into Brighton and y/n hears the cheers for her. She can't exactly make out what they are saying. Sadly, she doesn't get a chance to even greet her new subjects as her new English ladies are gently pushing her towards the carriage. The only thing she can do is wave and smile at them, hoping to instil a fraction of hope for the new royal couple. As she steps into the carriage, a huge white dress follows her. The abundance of ladies and herself are stuck in the cramped space for a little over an hour before they start agreeing to change her dress into the one being coddled.

"Why? This is dress is perfect as it is," y/n laughed gently, her fingers playing with the pearls that lace the neckline.

"Forgive me, my lady, but His Majesty; The King has requested that you wear a white gown." One of the younger girls pipes up. Sighing, y/n nods her head to agree and goes to stop the carriage.

While they don't completely undress her, she knows that the smock under her dress is shear and leave nothing to the imagination. Quickly they strip her of the current dress, even unlacing the corset before adding another one. As they place the soft silk of her veil over her head, she can hear the ringing bells at Westminster. It hasn't completely dawned on her what she is exactly going through. Marrying a man she has never met. Marrying a man for all she knows could be a tyrant. She's heard quite a few English Monarchs fall under that said category. Her heart started to jump now; she could fell the beat thump against her vocal box.

The people began to line the city. Countless bodies waved at her as she strolled through the city of London. The abbey somehow seemed ten times bigger in person. White rose petals fell through the air as the coachman opened the door for her. The walkway was paved with red velvet. Her heels felt as though she was ruining the beautiful material as she walked.

Tom can physically hear her pounding heartbeat from where he stands. He can't exactly make out her face, but he can see the white gown strutting towards him. It's the same patterns as the dress his mother wore more than 20 years ago. He's seen it in countless paintings, his mother scowling as she attempts to salvage any positive thing out of such tremendous pain. Harrison lays a hand on his shoulder; the contact makes him jump.

"I heard she looks like a siren," he joked, dusting a small particle of fluff off Tom's shoulder. "Perhaps she'll sound like one too," the comment was enough to grant the knight a hard whack on his arm from the Prince. He truly did wonder if she would as beautiful as the painting which depicted her. A small red rose for his house in her fingertips as she grinned softly. It was as if she was staring into his soul.

Tom reached out to allow her aid in getting up the stairs. She graciously accepted muttering a small thank you as her other hand lifted the countless layers of fabric to mend her steps. Her touch was soft, something he wasn't used to. The gentle touch of a noble woman, even if it was only upon his fingers. The entirety of Westminster Abbey went silent as the faced each other.

y/n could barely hear anything over her rampant anxiety. Though she was eased slightly as she blindly grasped at his fingers, she was afraid she gripped a little too tightly. Finally, she stood in front of him. The gown dipping down the stairs to end in her ladies' hands. She wondered what she looked like to him. Wondering if it was a glorious sight to witness a new bride waltzing towards him. Or if it was one of dread, to be in holy matrimony with someone you've just met for the first time. She's still trying to decide between the two.

The ceremony was beautiful. A simply yet elegant affair, as two young royals wed. She knows that she is marrying the Prince of Wales, a worthy husband for any noble woman. Yet she can't help the dread that builds as the Archbishop drones on. The hymns falling deaf ears. She tries to pay attention, but she can’t, all she can hear is the drumming of her heartbeat. It pounds against her ribs, creating echoes in her head. Before she knows it, his hands reach for hers. There was no strength in his grip unlike beforehand, it was soft and gentle. As if she was a beautiful yet delicate doll, that she would completely shatter if he pressed just that bit too hard. Their fingertips locked; her skin fell into the ridges of his knuckles.

“I proclaim thee, y/n of Burgundy to be my lawfully wedded wife from now until the end of my days,” he hesitated. She could hear it in his voice. “She shall sit beside me as I rule the kingdom.” The ring passes down her skin, the metal biting at her finger.

She repeats him. “I proclaim thee, Thomas – Prince of Wales to be my lawfully wedded husband from now until the end of my days. I shall sit beside him as he rules this beautiful country.” She smiles at the end, though she never intends to. y/n thanks her ladies that they cover her grinning face behind the thick white lace of her veil.

The entirety of Westminster Abbey is silent, no one dares even breathe as Prince Thomas coils his fingers around the tipping of the lace. He lifts it over his now wife’s face. He taken aback slightly. The painter wasn’t paid enough, clearly. She was even more beautiful standing in front of him. The same clear complexion now glistening in the soft sunlight of England. He doesn’t pry of course; it would be rude of him. Just to stare at his bride, as if they were the only people in the hall. Good lord, does he wish it was.

His hands reach her cheeks. Tender once more, he brings her forward. She shifts on her feet as they meet. A quaint and soft kiss, unlike anything either of them has felt ever. He can’t remember the last time, it was this – well, gentle. Thomas doubts he has ever kissed a woman of such luxury in his entire life up to this point. y/n is the first to pull away, her fingers resting lightly on his raised wrists. Their eyes meet for a moment, a short moment.

Westminster Abbey erupts into celebration. Red rose petals fall from the ceiling and music begins to flood the area.

As she stared around, y/n began to think to herself. I do not know what will come out of this, but I already can see that joy my presence brings to these people. I shall not let them down.

Prince Thomas of England, Heir to The English Throne and y/n of Burgundy, Granddaughter of The French King had been wed. They were now locked in holy matrimony, a feeling unlike any other. Both horrendous and hospitable.

━━★✼☆｡

The Hall is a grand party. Laughing and singing is heard from every corner, mugs of beer and wine are flung across tables and scraps of food are being thrown to the dogs. y/n has never seen such a scene unfold. Too contained by the prudish French court. The most scandalous thing she has seen is a risqué dance meant to be for a married lover.

That is what she always despised about the French Nobility. Their secrets. Whispers and Rumours spread faster than fire. If you had committed some heinous act, the entirety of France will hear about it by the end of the week. Perhaps that is another reason why she felt so trapped in Burgundy. y/n could never do a single task on her own before her ladies’ loose tongue would find their way back to her mother. A delicate little flower, such a waste of potential.

Tom noticed her prodding, her fork twirling the few peas left on her plate. He hadn’t said a word to her all night and yet he looks at her if she’s unwillingly to speak. Does she know any basic English? Perhaps not.

“How are you liking the food,” Tom asked her, leaning into her. She smiled up at him, he spoke to her in French. It made her heart swell for a second. y/n turns to face him, smiling warmly. Tom wishes he could keep that smile forever.

“It’s is very well Your Grace,” y/n replies to him. Her flawless English rolling off her tongue with a petite French accent. It’s like heaven to his ears and he’s taken aback. “My Great Aunt was an English Countess, I loved her very much. I was fluent in English before I was 8.” She explained, almost as if she had read his mind.

“You need not call me Your Grace,” he teased, it was somewhat natural for him.

“Then what shall I call you?” y/n queered.

“I am your husband now, whatever pleases you pleases me,” Tom replied, turning back to his empty plate in an effort to hide the rising red flush on his face. y/n knew she should leave it at that, so she turned her attention elsewhere.

“Are royal weddings usually this,” she paused, “loud?”

Tom laughed quietly, he too turned to face the ruckus crowd. Men laying in the laps of maids, dogs feasting over food that had been flung across the floor. Loud chants to the beat of the music filled the hall. He would have been completely embarrassed by the state of his people in front of his new bride, if he hadn’t seen the amused look on her face. “Not usually, I have only been to one other wedding and that was extremely sombre.”

“How so?” she asked, sipping from the freshly poured wine.

“I went to my uncle’s wedding a few months ago. He had also married a noble woman like yourself, but the poor thing was only 11. My uncle was 35 and counting.” He wishes it was different but like all things in this world, he is powerless to the wills of those who think they are higher than others.

He peered at her; y/n was already looking at him. An eyebrow and a lip raised in disgust. It was quaint.

“I wish I could be more repulsed by that,” Tom wondered if she was joking or if she was serious. He couldn’t tell just by the use of her tone. He did however note her wit. Something he so longed for. They talked for hours, sitting by one another and discussing anything that arrived at the conversation. Tom can’t decide whether it’s her honey-like voice or her banter but it’s making him feel things no one should for someone they are being forced to wed.

Just while they are comparing the contrasting jousting techniques, the joyful music suddenly stops. It’s a quick snap and the entire hall is now dead quiet. The Earl of Salisbury mounts himself on one of the tables. His cheeks red with drunkenness.

The Earl points directly at y/n and Tom as they sit in confusion. “The final tradition, an honour for any noble man. The Great Bedding!”

y/n turns to Tom, clinging slightly to his sleeve. He takes immediate notice. “Thomas, what is The Great Bedding?” There was great concern in her voice as she watched all of the men rush towards them. He didn’t get to answer as the women abruptly hauled him out of his seat and down the hall, away from her.

y/n didn’t fear too well either. At least a dozen grimy hands placed themselves all over her body, pulling harshly as they brought her into the air. Dancing her down the halls. She constantly whacked their hands, to no avail of course. They only dropped her once they got to a dimly lit room.

It was already buzzing with people. Hustling around a single bed, covered by finely woven silk. The men dropped her gently, placing her feet against the ground. y/n tried to turn around to give them a piece of her mind but was stopped as her corset began to become loose around her waist. Incredibly uncomfortable, y/n looked up to distract herself in any regard and found Tom at the other side. The maid’s hands undoing every buckle of his coat, tiny fingers unthreading the lavish ropes across his body. y/n blushed at the sight.

Tom was trying his hardest not to look at her, not to stare as countless men of the court undressing her. He could hear the bulky wedding dress hit the floor of the room, he could feel her eyes on him, and he could see the variety of unknown nobles swarming them in any hopes to achieve the right to gossip tomorrow morning. It was despicable.

He climbed in first, the cotton of the blankets itching his skin as he settled. The only comfort he found was in the softness in his unkempt hair. Not restricted by the gel he was forced to wear.

y/n slowly followed his lead, it was dead silent. No one dared breathed as the new Princess of Wales found her spot next to The Prince. All the while, the exact same priest Archbishop chanted away, and priests flung holy water at the bed. Some of the liquid found itself on her skin. Finally, the crowd bowed to the couple and began to take their leave.

Tom watched in peace; he would be alone. He closed his eyes and let out a soft sigh, perhaps he would be able to get some well needed sleep. That seemed achievable until he felt a cold grasp around his wrist. His eyes shot open to find his father’s glare directly at him. “Don’t let the spring pass, I hope to see a grandson in the next few months,” The King spat.

It had been hours since the quarry of guests had left the room but the the monarch’s words etched themselves into his mind. Echoing nonstop, getting wilder as Tom felt y/n settle herself next to him. The mere presence of her alongside the duty he had to fulfil was too much for him. Tom shot up and quickly gathered his things, hauling his boots and clothes. He couldn’t be near her for another moment, too afraid of what he might do if she was subject to this sort of cruel punishment. Tom quickly decided he was sleep next door, just far away to have the thoughts no longer plague his mind but not too far that he would impose the wrong meaning on her. He reached for the door when she chimed in.

“Where are you going?”

He halted instantly. He wished that they could have gotten along like most royal couples should. A cold and initially distant meeting, then hopefully something would blossom over the years. Instead they had gotten along quite well, too well in fact. He was used to going slowly, taking his time in bedding a girl. A constant glaze over the court every few days, then promiscuous banter and in the span of months he would have her melt in his hand with a simple word. Now, he was feeling flustered and out of control and all of it was happening over a single night. Tom pressed his forehead against the wood, taking a deep breath. He turned to look at her, just like a painting coming to life. Her hair was down, unlike anything he had ever seen. Not grimed with sweat and dirt nor was it pinned underneath a headdress or away from her face. This time, the soft curls framed it. The nightgown clung to her shoulders; the fabric dangerously close to falling off. It made his life that much more difficult.

“I am sorry. You are a beautiful woman, but I just cannot fulfil the expectations that are placed upon me tonight. I will be sleeping in the room next door if you need me,” Tom blurted out. He waited for a response before he could speed out. She sat there, like a perfectly sculpted statue. It was torture.

y/n sighed, “nothing has to happen tonight.”

“But they will ask, they will pry like they always will,” he countered.

“Who says we have to tell the truth?” y/n giggled. God, it was a symphony to him. Tom watched her leave the bed, waltzing around to meet with him at the door. He wanted the tell her to stay exactly where she is, not to move even an inch closer but with ever step she took, his breath hitched higher in his throat. “I would prefer to spend the first night of my marriage with my husband, whether something happens or not.”

He swallowed thickly, “you are incredibly calm.” He now met her, his full attention on y/n as she chuckled in delight.

“I am filled to the brim with anxiety, just not that same fear that you are feeling,” she told him as she sat down the small longue in the middle of the room. She took the wine from the table and poured each of them a glass. Tom was hesitant at first, still wishing to flee the room and into the safety of his own solitary. Still, he found himself pacing towards her. Taking soft and flinching steps until he sat beside her.

“Then what is the fear?” He took the other glass, quickly chugging the alcohol. y/n said nothing but just stared at him in confusion. “The fear you feel, why?”

It was now her turn to become flustered. He looked genuinely curious as to why she was feeling doubtful, but she was unsure if he truly wanted to know the answer. Her father made her promise never to speak of it to anyone, a shameful secret that would ruin her future if it was released. But Tom was now her husband. They were bonded by law, a thought she really didn’t wish to dwell on. Surely, whatever she told him wouldn’t cause them any stress? Still, it would be rude of her not to tell him the reason after he had just clearly demonstrated his own fears in the commitment. “You must promise not to become angry.”

Tom nodded his head gently, even more intrigued then he was before.

y/n quietly exhaled, avoiding looking at Tom. “I was married once before, he passed from the sickness 3 months into our matrimony. Perhaps it was God way of guiding me to a better future, but it ruined almost everything. His death caused create strain for my family as they attempt to rebuild myself as if I was not capable of it myself. I am terrified that I am cursed, that I shall find myself falling in love with you only to be weeping over your coffin months later.” She had poured her soul out, shared such a personal section of her life. She was ashamed to see his face. Too afraid that pure anger and disgust would paint his face.

“Who was he? The man whom you had married?” Tom asked her again. His voice calling out as she stared directly at the purple velvet beneath her dress.

“The Prince of Spain,” y/n squeaked.

“That inbred!” Tom joked, suddenly becoming relaxed by the mere mention of the Spanish Royal Family. “I am surprised you got three months and not three days, that kid was on death doors for his entire life,” Tom was now in a fit of laughter. It wasn’t directed to her but more that they allowed such a beautiful woman to be the wife of such a dull man. y/n peered up, thoroughly embarrassed as she gave him a light whack. Tom finally came down from his laughing fit, staring directly at her. “You are cursed Princess; you are just coddled. Forced into a life clearly not meant for someone like yourself.”

The mere mention of the cradling of her life got y/n riled up, “that’s another thing! The Spanish constantly treated me as if I was some porcelain doll ready to shatter if they dared even look at me! I felt like a child trapped in a woman’s body and he touched me like that as well. God, I was finally ready to truly live my life and then he just was too soft, I wanted something much mor-” Oh. Oh God. She had run her mouth too far, dug her own grave with her rambling. Her hands clamped against her mouth as a heat rushed to her face. She could see the French ships arriving for her next month, giving her passage because she was not in pristine condition. Hopefully Tom didn’t pick up on what she was inferring.

“You aren’t a virgin?” his voice was quiet, almost dark. She felt her entire world shatter. Tom scooted towards her slowly, it was completely unnoticed. She was too deep in panic to recognise the growing flirt rising in the Prince of Wales. y/n shook her head feverously. “That little tick took you?” When he put it like that, it made her stomach tingle. She had never heard such a sentence used in that tone. She was drowning in thoughts.

“I didn’t know what I was doing, that’s why I was so unsatisfied,” she tried to explain, her hands now bunched up the fabric against her knees. “He was just so soft, too soft and I wished he would have-”

“Would have what?” he toyed. Tom doesn’t quite know why he was acting like this. So intent on prying her little secrets out of her. Usually, he would have just simply got straight to the point but now, seeing her become red with frustration was a view causing him great pleasure. Any abstinence he hoped to place upon himself earlier in the night had been thrown out the window. He finally felt back in control, something he longed for. Something she was serving to him on a silver platter.

“I..” she began but the words got caught in her throat. Her tongue stopped completely, almost refusing to finish the damning sentence. She wanted him to be rougher with her, she wanted him to treat her like a woman and not a girl. “What happen to you wishing to keep your hands to yourself?” She attempted to change the topic, trying to flee but to no avail as he quickly caught her wrist in his palms. Their skins igniting on sight.

“Don’t try to change the subject Princess,” he purred, standing up to meet with her at the side of the bed. Her title now held a completely different meaning, it wasn’t being used to describe her. It was being used to utterly destroy her; a nickname only meant to be whispered in the dim light of a dozen candles. “I can see right through you,” Tom’s calloused fingers met the loose fabric on her shoulders, dancing over her collarbone. It was soft but held meaning. “I can see that you wished he touched you differently. Touched you like a real woman, rougher and passionate.”

His words were damned. She should feel ashamed that she was feeling light-headed just by the grazing touch of his fingers above her perked breasts. “Yes,” it was the only thing she could get out. The only single three lettered word that allowed itself out of her mouth. Tom pressed his lips to her neck, underneath her jaw.

“Perhaps, he too was inexperienced.” He spoke through small pecks. “Allow me to show you something different, something better,” it was barely above a whisper, but y/n heard every word. Her fingers tangled themselves in his hair as he peered at her.

“I would enjoy that very much,” y/n responded just as quiet, all the gentle touches he currently had placed upon her turned darker. He pulled her into his embrace quickly before tripping her feet from under her and ending atop her on the messily made bed. His hand instantly found the inside of her thigh, his finger bruising her skin. It was delightfully, the slight pain sending shivers down her spine.

Their lips met, gentle at first. Her hands moulding themselves against his jaw, moaning into his mouth as he pushed her deeper into the mattress. She wished she could stay like this forever, wrapping in Tom’s embrace as they mended together. Alas, he pulled away from her. Lips separating with a small pop and a soft whine from y/n underneath him. Tom took a distinct look at her; she was sprawled out and whimpering for something more. Did she give this look to him as well? Did she use the melody that was her voice to beg him to do anything? Tom didn’t particularly wish to replay the thought in his head but yet, he couldn’t help himself.

Her nightgown quickly found itself discarded; her nipples perked in the cold. His lips immediately latched on, massaging the soft tissue. He never knew something could feel this smooth, without any flaws or imperfections. Even though he knew he could spend an entire night between the valley of her tits, he too longed for something more.

In a matter of moments, he found himself staring directly at her sex. A glorious sight to behold, glistening with her arousal in the pale moonlight. She was practically dripping onto the sheets below her. He placed a soft kiss to her pelvis, she jumped at the contact. “If you feel uncomfortable, you need to tell me,” he told her all the while his fingers toyed at her hot hole. Dipping even so slightly into her heat. She was already in euphoria just from the slightest bit of pleasure. y/n nodded her head before locking eyes with him.

He didn’t waste another second, quickly licking a fat stripe through her folds. The taste was pure heaven, he didn’t give her a moment to register the feeling before diving right back into her juices. Sucking and pulling at her, wasting the night away feeling her thighs clamp around his head every time he flicked her clit coupled with a singular finger prancing in and out of her.

y/n wasn’t quite sure how loud she could truly be. She knew that even though they were in the far south-east of the castle, there could be a dozen scullery maids listening right outside the door. Or if someone was trying to achieve some sleep right beside them. At this very moment though, with Tom’s head in between her thighs devouring every inch of her throbbing cunt, she couldn’t give a single fuck. y/n allowed the string of curses and praised to tumble from her lips as she clasped onto the bed sheets for dear life.

“Such a dirty mouth,” Tom remarked, releasing her for a few seconds, “for such a pretty and delicious pussy.” He chuckled darkly. y/n wanted to bite back at him, but she was cut short but the addition of another of his digits sliding into her tight entrance. y/n clasped down hard on her hand. A foreign feeling began to drive itself into her stomach. While unusual, it was not at all exotic to her. It was thrilling, feeling her walls contract around his fingers as y/n began to instinctively rock her hips against his digits.

“God,” he purred, “that’s it, make yourself cum on my fingers Princess. Let me see that gorgeous face while you do it.” Tom had now retracted his mouth from her, completely mesmerised by the way her eyes screwed shut as she reached her peak. A cacophony of beautiful and dazzling sounds stumbling out of her mouth as he felt her climax all over his hand. Such a tantalising sight for any man.

y/n was too deep in her own return that she didn’t notice the retraction of his presences from the middle of her legs. So, when he felt his hands roughly pull her to the edge of the bed, she almost choked. The exhilarating feeling of his strained cock rubbing against her drenched folds made her forget her place. Made her speak before her mind could catch up. “I want you to fulfil the expectation.” She told him, her eyes never wavering from him.

Tom halted all his movements. It was painful but he needed absolute clarity before he did anything without her reassurance. “You need to elaborate Princess,” he told her darkly. He knew exactly what she was asking of him, he knew exactly what she desired.

“I want you to come inside of me,” she spoke as if she was a different person. y/n doesn’t quite know whether it’s the shift of mood or her own personal feelings but either way, she wanted to feel their juices mix and then leak out of her. Wanted him to fill her right up to the brim until the possibility was certain.

“You want me to fuck my seed right into you?” his words were dirtier than she expected but so was he as he slid in and into her. His naval hitting hers with a loud smack. He refused to move until he had played with her just that tad bit more. y/n’s head thrashed into the sheets behind her. She was so full, never has she felt this complete in her entire life. He wasn’t even moving but she could feel every inch of him deep inside of her.

“God yes,” she whimpered. “I need it so bad,” she was going to drive Tom insane. Just by a simple sentence, he was going to lose his mind and cum right now without even doing anything. 

“Want to carry my child, our own Prince or Princess,” he pulled back out of her and slammed right back in, knocking the wind out of her y/n. It was so profoundly dirty, just discussing it. It thrilled her to the very core, child-bearing was meant for women not girls. Perhaps that is why she is so drawn to the talk, the talk of something so primally feminine set her entire body on fire. She couldn’t speak a coherent sentence instead she just let out a continuous plea.

He began slow, hips rocking to find that perfect beat. He revelled in the only sounds in the room, the sound of his cock hitting the divine spot inside of her over and over again and her delirious moaning. It was a symphony he was lucky enough to hear. He wanted to hear more, listen to the pure sounds of him railing into her. So, he picked up the pace. His thrust became not only deep and harsh but fast.

God, if he could immortalise this feeling he would. The feeling of her walls constricting around him as he pounds right into her, the feeling of her legs wrapping around his constantly thrusting hips and the feeling of her sweating skin underneath his fingers as he grips for support. It’s like the Lord himself made her tight little cunt just for him.

“You’re so big,” y/n praised mindlessly. He’s never had someone say that to him without it sounding forced. It’s so raw that he can’t help but go even harder into with each praise that falls off her lips. “Fill me up, I want to feel you all inside of me.” It’s a dangerous game, she’s tapped on something so feral inside of him it hurts.

y/n wants to prop herself up and explore his body while he pounds into her, but she simply can’t. Her limbs give out with every thrust. Her entire body spasms each time he hits the perfect spot inside of her. She a moaning mess, trying to maintain any sense of normality but failing miserably. It’s a constant state of pleasure, she’s afraid that she’s lost track of time. That is until the faint, but all the desirable fit finds itself lit in the pit of her stomach.

“I’m almost there,” she whispers, it’s the only thing she can get out. His thrusts, that once had gained a steady and harsh rhythm are now falling. He’s losing focus with each grip he receives. With her words though, he gives her the final stretch. No longer does he has some form of structure but instead he’s just railing her like a wild animal.

It’s an explosion and neither knows why but it’s addictive. y/n climaxes around him, her toes curling as her final orgasm hits her long and violent. Shaking underneath, him as she unknowingly milks his own finish out of him. Tom’s fucking his cum right into her, he doesn’t stop for a second. Too focused on the goal ahead of him. Placing it where it counts. It’s a feeling he wants to never forget, better yet it’s a sight he wants permanently etched into his memories. As he pulls out of her, their climaxes tumble out of her. Dripping down her leg.

“Hold your legs up Princess,” he teases as he pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. “I heard it works wonders.”

The rose blooms only for those who care properly for her.

━━★✼☆｡

a/n: please don’t flop, omg this is so long and no one asked for this shit. please don’t flop chile 🤡

[dragonjadearts]

so I counted them all up and I have 12 Sanders Sides AUs that are at least partially fleshed out. I’m sure I have a lot more somewhere in the back of my head, but these are the main ones

Soooo... I have to stay up all night to finish my animation project for tomorrow so send me an ask if you want to know anything about any of my AUs! It can be a specific question or you just letting me rant about them!

1. Other Worlds - When a teenage Logan accidentally ends up in a parallel dimensions, it’s up to his dad Patton to find him and bring them both home. But this parallel world is facing troubles of its own and getting back to reality looks like it’s going to be more difficult than it seems.

2. Source of Magic - Virgil has been looking for a home since the day he first realized he was a sorcerer, but every time he thinks he’s found one, something goes wrong. The magical world is calling to him, and no matter how much he tries not to listen, maybe it’s calling him home.

3. Warrior Heart - Roman never knew where he came from, but that didn’t stop him from having big dreams for the future. But when the King decides to start a war with their neighboring country, he can’t let him go through with it, even if it means giving up the love of his life.

4. The Star I Called my Home - Virgil just got abducted by aliens, and if that’s not weird enough, apparently his dad is an alien too? Nothing makes sense in outer space, but it’s one hell of an adventure.

((The rest of the summaries are under the cut, but this post is already so long))

5. Bloodlines - Mythical creatures are long since extinct, but their blood runs through almost every human on the planet. There are some exceptions, some last ancestral lineages of pure, untainted humanity. Patton is one of them. He didn’t realize how much trouble that would be until he started high school.

6. The Old High School Song and Dance - Patton just moved schools and has already somehow managed to find himself trapped in between two gangs rivaling for power. Also he might be falling in love with one of their leaders?? What a mess.

7. Old Hearts, Young Love - Janus is doing just fine raising his two sons all by himself, he doesn’t need anyone else in his little family. Until Patton Heart, an old flame, comes flying back into his life at lightning speed to recapture his heart.

8. Oceans Apart - Roman was perfectly happy living in his aquarium, performing tricks and dazzling audiences, until he was suddenly hundreds of miles from home on a coastline populated with strange merfolk and no way to know which way was home. Now he has to find his way through perilous waters and maybe find a little bit of love along the way.

9. Hunting Party - Roman, Logan, and Patton make up one of the most promising vampire hunting teams in the Hunter Organization, a company dedicated to hunting down the vermin to protect humanity. Virgil is a recently turned vampire with no where else to turn. What happens they meet?

10. A Moonlit Path to the Castle - How does Logan always find himself in these absurd situations? How did he get here, in this strange world where a corrupt King threatens to destroy everything and Guardians who are strangely familiar... Nothing makes sense, but there’s a comfort in the strange magic of the unknown.

11. This World we Broke - When Virgil finds and hatches a dragon egg, he finds himself swept up into a world of magic, elves, and corrupt Kings. Is he really the one destined to save the world when all he wanted was to save his family?

12. Home at Long Last - The sides are dragontaurs, half man and half dragon beasts. They all come from different backgrounds and different lives, but they all find a home at the home of Thomas Sanders.

[cregla]

DREAM SMP UNDERTALE!AU

I’ve read so many Undertale!AU for the Dream SMP and I wanted to try with mine. Keep in mind that I go for roles and not characterization in most of the cases.

Warning: long post incoming.

WORLDBUILDING:

Unlike the "monsters vs humans" issue, I think there was a server war. Thus the inhabitants of the Dream SMP and their descendants were locked up Underground: people can go there, but they cannot go out. However, falling into the Underground from the outside put you in Hardcore mode, with only one canon life left. There is a legend that says that the Barrier can be broken using the last canon life (in the form of the SOUL) of seven inhabitants of other Servers.

THE FALL: One day a endermen hybrid named Ranboo falls into the Underground. Left with only one life and wounded, the boy is greeted by a green hooded figure with a smiling mask on his face. The figure tries to get the boy to come with him with kind words, but a ghost appears at Ranboo's side and warns him not to follow the other or trust him. Undecided about what to do and who to listen to, Ranboo hesitates and the figure, "Dream", reveals his true colors trying to attack and kill him. Fortunately, before he can hurt Ranboo, a crossbow bolt grazes Dream's shoulder and an axe comes between the two. A piglin hybrid warrior stands before them, and after he threatens Dream, the masked man leaves.

THE RUINS: The piglin is called Technoblade. Initially he was about to leave Ranboo there, but noticing how injured he was from the fall he decides, after some “voices” convinced him, to take him home to rest. On the way, Techno explains to Ranboo where he is and that he is "retired", in peace, and that in the Ruins most of the inhabitants are peaceful and that they don't want trouble. Ranboo also encounters another ghost, "Ghostbur", who spends his time in the Ruins taking care of a blue sheep and occasionally keeping Techno company. Unlike Ghostbur no one, apart from Ranboo, can see the other ghost, the little boy who had warned him about Dream: the boy not only does not say his name, but warns Ranboo not to talk about him, or people could call him crazy. The ghost, however, accompanies Ranboo giving him advice on the Underground and always pushing him on the mercy road. Ranboo can also feel another “ghost” following him, but he can never find someone there when he try to look for them. He just knows that he’s being followed. Ranboo spends a few weeks at Techno's house and in the meantime the two bond (even if Techno denies it). Ranboo also bonds with the ghost boy.

LEAVING:

Once healed, however, Ranboo would like to figure out how to get home - and he is also prompted by the ghost boy to leave the Ruins and "carry on". Hearing this, Techno initially tries to make him stay, but then he heads for the door of the Ruins. Here, Techno explains what the ghost also told Ranboo: that it takes the SOULS of seven inhabitants of another server to destroy the barrier... and that only one was missing. And that in order to leave the Underground, Ranboo would have to kill an SMP resident who has only one life left, and use their SOUL to get through the barrier.

Techno explains how he initially agreed with the plan to kill seven people to save everyone, but that he had seen with his own eyes how that path had corrupted everyone, how the King and the government had corrupted everything and everyone, people he knew, who he considered good, the ones (and one) he cared about the most. That was why he had retired, escaping to the Ruins. Normally he would let Ranboo go without stopping him, caring little about what happens outside the Ruins, but as his "mentor" he would like him to stay there (obviously, he doesn't say it so directly, he's still Technoblade, duh)... and that, no matter how much he disagrees with the King now, he was once his closest friend and cannot allow either of them, Ranboo or the King, to die. Techno then challenges Ranboo to see if he would be strong enough to survive out there, or worthy to leave the Underground. Ranboo obviously refuses to fight, and Techno at some point gives in. He gives him his Axe of Peace (at which sight the ghostboy seems to darken) and urges him to have no mercy on his enemies, before letting him pass and abandon the ruins... Ranboo and the ghost boy leaves, not before seeing Dream lurking in the shadows.

SNOWCHESTER:

Ranboo and the ghost boy find themselves in a tundra biome. Here the two make their way through the forest when a figure appears behind them. But what seemed like a sudden threat turns out to be a simple young man in a multicolored sweatshirt who greets Ranboo cheerfully: he introduces himself as Karl and asks him if he's from the external servers and what he's doing here. After hearing his story, Karl quietly warns him of the Royal Guards, including his two boyfriends, who go in search of other server members to kill in order to collect their SOULS. Karl lazily offers to escort Ranboo to Snowchester, the town nearby, but the two are interrupted by the arrival of Karl's two boyfriends: Sapnap and Quackity. The two immediately try to capture and/or kill Ranboo, and only his quick reflexes and the brief intrusions of Karl (who tries to calm the situation, but does not fight or defend him physically) allow Ranboo to escape. A chase in the woods starts until, thanks also to the ghost boy's suggestions, Ranboo manages to make them lose his tracks. Ranboo and the ghost boy then travel alone to Snowchester, interspersing the encounters with the Underground inhabitants with Sapnap and Quackity ambushes and interactions with Karl here and there. Upon reaching Snowchester, Ranboo interacts again peacefully with the townspeople before battling Quackity and Sapnap one last time. Ranboo manages to escape from the two but when the Royal Guards find themselves in a situation of real danger, Ranboo decides to help and save them. The two, confused, let him go, but remain aggressive and tell him that when he has to deal with the Warden, he will not be so lucky. Before leaving Snowchester, Karl also give Ranboo a phone and his number, and offers his help during the adventure...

Masterpost - Next 

[superherotiger]

The Only Name That Matters (Celestial Irondad AU)

 Thank you so much @littleshrews! It makes me so happy to hear that you’ve been enjoying  the series as much as you have, and you’re absolutely right, each Celestial has their own set of powers related to their type of being! I’ll go a little bit deeper into that in the story featuring Rhodey, but I loved your idea about Peter’s first words so much that I couldn’t resist but write it up now! I’ll have to keep the details of the Soul Guide AU a bit more locked down until the sequel is finished, but if you have any more ideas for our Celestial family here just let me know. Hope you enjoy the story!

-Superherotiger

[Celestial Irondad AU: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4] [Ao3]

~~~~~~~~~~

Despite being unable to pronounce a single intelligible word, the Prince of Light loved to talk.

He could spend hours upon hours just babbling to no one in particular, occasionally pausing in thought, only to jump back into his rambling as passionately as before. Sometimes his voice was quiet, mere mumbles as he played with his toys, and other times he could be loud enough to alert the whole kingdom, squealing excitedly and making sure everyone was aware of whatever had caught his attention. And for as long as Peter could talk, his father could sit by and listen, completely enraptured by the nonsensical conversations with his young son. Because when Stark would hold Peter’s glowing stare and talk back in curious murmurs, the baby seemed to brighten and smile and giggle in that beautiful way of his until the celestial had no choice but to entertain the incomprehensible babble.

Peter’s laughter was like sunshine that broke through rain clouds, the bloom of spring flowers after the frost of winter. Nothing could quite compare to its melody, so powerful and bright. That sound -much like everything about his son- was something Stark was ever thankful to have in his immortal life.

But as the King of War, Stark still had to shoulder all the challenges and responsibilities of his large empire, many of which were less pleasant than his son’s bright smile.

On this particular occasion it was a brutal ambush of his soldiers at the border between War and Peace, the opposing Celestial force and constant thorn in Stark’s side. Barely any of the soldiers in the small patrol had survived, and those who had were branded with wounds that would stay with them for many lifetimes. It seemed yet another rival kingdom had caught onto his recent absence on the battlefield, and despite the fact that Stark was directing his attention into something good, something amazing, it was his soldiers getting punished for it.

So he had to think of a solution, and short of going out to the borders and slaying his enemies back into submission, he could find no other way around the dilemma. Stark -positioned on his throne of iron and gold- tapped his fingers mindlessly against the metal below as his mind calculated every risk, every flaw, every advantage. In the corner of his eye he could see Peter playing with the small, crystal cubes that Widow had gifted him shortly after their first meeting, placing blocks on top of each other and tearing them down with a meticulous eye for detail. If Stark listened closely, he could even hear the quiet mumblings that his son let out, focused and deep in thought as he rearranged the cubes.

But whereas Stark would usually take the time to watch the Prince play in peaceful amusement, now he stared off to the opposite wall and got lost in a storm of his own thoughts. Of the many problems that weighed down on his shoulders and demanded his attention. Threatened to destroy everything he had worked for if he dared turn away for too long.

Peter’s voice rose in the back of his mind, the mumblings transforming into a chorus of syllables filled with curiosity.

Supposedly it was too much to ask for a moment of stillness in a galaxy of immortal beings, Stark thought bitterly. He knew he could -and most likely should- tell his fellow Celestials soon of Peter’s existence, but as selfish as it was, he didn’t think they deserved to know of his son. Maybe there were a few exceptions, but Stark cared little for his star-born family, and he certainly didn’t want to make Peter a target to any of his numerous enemies…

The babbling resumed, louder and more urgent this time, but not enough to draw the king from his thoughts.

Stark wanted nothing more than to spend his limitless days with his son, but he also had a responsibility to his kingdom, to his soldiers, to defend them. To go back out to battle would take time though, time Stark wasn’t sure Peter or himself were ready to be separated for…

Another string of nonsensical words called, echoing through the chamber impatiently.

Falling deeper into his mind, Stark immediately began conjuring up ideas and designs for a solution. Something mechanical. Something that could protect his son when he couldn’t-

“Dada!”

Stark’s head snapped up in one swift motion, that single word causing all previous thoughts to come grinding to a halt. Slowly, almost cautiously, the King turned to stare down at the boy gazing up at him expectantly from the foot of his throne, eyes bright and unmoving.

After a moment of tense silence, Stark blinked himself out of his stupor and asked “What… what did you just say?”

And then, with a smile that beamed like the sun, Peter exclaimed loudly “Dada!”

The King’s heart sparked in shock, sending embers to the polished floors as he rose to his feet and watched his son with a daringly hopeful smile. It could have been a mistake. A coincidental combination of syllables.

But kneeling by his son’s side, Stark felt his entire being tremble in joy when Peter reached out his little hands and called out “Da, Dada! Dada!”

Stark’s breath caught in his lungs as he stared at his son -his beautiful little Peter- and softened in such overwhelming love and adoration. “Oh Peter, yes- yes that’s me,” Stark cooed, scooping the baby into his fierce embrace.

“Da, Da!” Peter repeated proudly, planting his hands on his father’s cheeks as if to make sure the Celestial was watching his newfound trick.

Fire began to burn in Stark’s eyes as he leant into Peter’s soft touch, the star in his chest blooming with a bright blue flame as he murmured “That’s right- you’re so clever, aren’t you sunshine?”

Peter babbled for a moment with an urgency that his father couldn’t comprehend, only for his face to brighten up again into a smile as he chanted his new favourite word like his life depended on it. Each time he spoke that name, that seemingly simple title, Stark felt his soul ache with awe and wonder and love so strong it felt like it would burst out of chest. Only Peter could make him feel this way. Could make him physically weak with so many emotions that it was impossible to count them all. And it was in moments like these that Stark realised just how much Peter had changed his life, his purpose, his very reason for living.

“I love you little Prince,” Stark whispered as he pressed their foreheads together. “I’m a lucky king indeed to have a son like you…”

“Dada, da,” Peter replied enthusiastically.

Humming in agreement, Stark kissed the crown of Peter’s head and softened at the pleased giggled that followed.

“The luckiest king of all…”

...

Taglist: @joyful-soul-collector​ @lost-lunar-wolf​ @lbigreyhound13​ @aixabi​ @irondadz​ @an-odd-idea​ @amazingmegan7300​

[haphazardlyparked]

the war AU

@gingerly-writing originally i started this as a response to your captured solider/person-enemy general thing  but then it just turned into a whole bunch of self-indulgence sooooo 

(i'm a softie at heart??)

---------------------

"Masara," a voice hissed in her ear, and Masara came back to her senses, only to swallow back a groan. Her whole body was an ache that burned at the edges, part magical exhaustion and part old-fashioned beating.

"Arlis," Masara murmured back, trying not to move. Trying to catalogue her hurts before she tested them, trying to remember what had happened. She did not say, You young fool.

Masara's heart––already burning her chest with grief and war––had leapt into her throat and turned to fear when she'd seen Arlis emerge from the tunnel pass, adept enough with the spells that she could open the hidden routes on her own. Masara's young, foolish squire, who had followed her because she thought her knight-mistress had gone off to do something brave, when all Masara was was reckless, desperate––and desperately hopeful.

Panam as heir was safe, the king was on his way to the Yina stronghold, and Fathmir, who had been at the holy mountain's summit since the new moon, could be made High Priest soon. The heart of Amir would be preserved, even though Amirasa had fallen. Even though things might had been different, before the assassination and the war.

Masara knew her part now. She was the most experienced knight traveling with her uncle––fleeing, navigating the twisting paths and hidden tunnels that wound through the foothills of the Endless Ridge. The king had to make it to the safety of Mount Yina, and that was worth Masara's life.

In some small measure, Amir would survive, watchful and isolated while her southern lands became a battlefield between two imperial powers. Ancient Lapur to the southwest, hemmed in by the Blasted Plains, and Kas to the northeast, a young and eager threat.

Masara had dreamed of her kingdom’s waning. She had felt the shadow of death hanging over her head since Panam had brought news of the High Priest's assassination.

When she had volunteered to lead the pursuers away from the king's trail as he and a fragment of his court ran for holy Yina, the king had faced her as her father wold have––grieved, yet proud. But he had faced her as her king, too, grimly resigned to her sacrifice.

"You might have been one of our greatest queens, if my sister and I chose differently," he had whispered.

Masara could scarcely meet her uncle's eyes.

"I dreamed a fire would burn away my future, during my rites,” she confessed. One did not usually speak of the visions, if there were any, but Masara thought she could ease her uncle’s conscience. “When Panam came with word of my father's death... I already knew how this could end. This is my decision, Uncle."

"May the Lady Sascrin guard your path, Masara," the king said.

The knight knelt, and kissed her uncle's hand, and when she rose––when the king drew her to her feet to hug her one last time, the farewell embrace she never had from her father––she smiled.

"It will be your job to look after Arlis now,” she said when they pulled away from each other. She stepped back.

Arlis was a jealous squire, and would likely be furious when she realized Masara had ridden to battle without her. Later, she would come to understand that she was too young for this.

And then the little fool had burst from one of the rocky passages, into the pitched skirmish while Masara charged a company with a twilit illusion, riding alongside moonbeams, and dropped the bridge to cut off pursuit of the king’s path.

She thought the destroyed bridge would been a good place to die, right up until she saw Arlis and realized with a ringing clarity, Not now. Her squire needed her.

Masara's vision filled with molten silver, magic in her hands and spitting down the length of her blade, and Arlis flickered across the field in her mind's eye, a star to be guarded. When they reached each other—the knight a blur of spell and steel, her squire a smaller whirlwind no less fierce for her youth, and Kassan footmen with their blue-rimmed shields and clumsy swords—Arlis screamed, and Masara's world exploded.

In the tent, when she opened her eyes, the physical ache seemed to coalesce in her chest as she put everything back together again.

There was her beloved, fool squire whom Masara would protect with her last breath; and beyond that, all the things that threatened her.

Masara and Arlis were tied side by side to foldable campaign chairs, which was quite civilized, all things considered. She could see spells crawling on the walls of the tent, and smelled the distinctive sting of burning a sharp, distinctive incense. Natural inhibitors of magic.

"Do you know where we are?" Masara spoke. Her voice was cracked and barely audible; her throat dry as dust. Unlike Arlis, she was tied to her chair by only one arm, because the other was broken. She woke with it cradled against her chest in a sling.

"I'm sorry, sir, I––” Arlis began urgently, quick and breathless, all the words she'd been thinking while Masara was unconscious now tumbling out. Masara let her relieve herself. "I shouldn't have followed, and then I ruined your plan and you went down––and I panicked. I surrendered. I thought they were going to kill you!”

“You did as you should have done, Arlis," Masara assured her squire when she fell silent. “I am grateful to be alive."

It was true. Masara had made her peace with her sacrifice, but she hadn't wanted to die. If she could live––and she had somehow, for Arlis or thanks to her––she would. (She wondered if this meant her vision was wrong; or if there was another fire threatening her horizons.)

"But Masara," Arlis mumbled. “You weren’t about to surrender.”

“That only means you have proven yourself wiser than me.”

“But... I told them who you are.”

Masara considered her broken arm––splinted and bandaged, carefully tended to like the rest of her battered body, and found Arlis's confession did not surprise her.

"And yourself, too?" Masara asked.

"Yes."

"Good," Masara said firmly. "We are alive now, and I will not see you die, Arlis."

Her squire knew enough to hear the grim promise.

"Sir," she acknowledged. "I don't think they'll hurt me. They think I'm a child––a poor, misguided girl-child who accidentally maimed some soldiers..." Arlis indulged in a little complaining, and when Masara recalled her visit to the Kassan court years ago, she decided Arlis was probably justified. And yet, they still burned the incense; they still spelled the tent. They were cautious.

"They were horrified when they realized you were a woman, and that was before I explained you are a high lady," Arlis continued. "After that, they bundled us up and had a surgeon come; you were stabbed through the shoulder, by the way. I tried to do what I could, on the road yesterday. They put us in a wagon and set a guard. They don't think very highly of me, and didn’t notice I what I was doing."

Masara considered that, and realized that was why that whole upper side of her hurt, not just the broken arm.

"Thank you, Arlis," she sighed. "It's called battlefield healing for a reason, and you've always been one of the best. I am fortunate." It really wasn't much more than cleansing wounds and dulling pain, but it was more than nothing.

Arlis grinned. "Am I better than Guira?"

Masara ignored the question, as she always did. She smiled, and then her lip split. Grimacing––carefully––she asked, “How long was I out?”

“The rest of the evening and all of yesterday. We stopped last night, and I slept, so it may be morning again,” Arlis reported. “You destroyed the footbridge we used, and that was the only easy path for a large party, so they've had to retreat back out of the foothills. They didn't stop until they were out, which was late last night."

Masara was shocked to hear she had been unconscious for so long--but something in the back of her head disagreed, remembered a dream, perhaps. Later. She said instead, "These are Sascrin's foothills; outlanders think they are cursed. Even I only turned back to make very, very certain they would too."

Some things were too important to leave to should and probably; the king had understood that when Masara proposed remaining behind to guard their rear.

Arlis didn't ask her what the plan was now. She didn't ask what it had been, either.

Trust, or insight? Masara thought it was the former, and she tried to turn her worry into resolve. Her uncle had depended on her before; now Arlis did.

"Has anyone spoken to you?"

"Only a captain," Arlis reported. “He said their general could decide what to do with nobility."

"And have you seen a mage?"

"No. But I do think there's one around. The tent could've been prepared, but the incense smells... intent."

Masara tilted her head––carefully, to avoid tugging at any other injuries she wasn't fully aware of––and smiled lopsided at Arlis, trying to avoid the split. "Very good," she said, winced, and licked at the cut. "I thought you might notice that; that's the scent of the mage's spell. Now, what other kinds of magic inhibitors are they using?”

"Sir," Arlis protested, half-indignant, but she was looking at the canvas around them. She knew better than to try and fuss more over Masara's wounds; she'd already done what she could. It was nothing she would not recover from, she decided––given a chance to recover, of course.

"We're currently bound to chairs in a spelled tent, Arlis," Masara said. "We might as well have a brief lesson."

Masara heard rather than saw Arlis's roll of the eyes. She could never keep from that airy, "As you say, sir."

But Masara saw how she relaxed a little, easing back into her seat and straining  less at her bonds.

"Let's begin with the standard suppression spells," Masara went on. "One of the nice thing about them is that they're always visible, as it's active magic, and look––these weavers didn't even try for subtlety. Tell me which ones you know already."

Arlis and Masara discussing the fire protection spell woven into the seams of the tent, where the different cuts of fabric had been sewn together, and how they served to isolate each separate piece of fabric, when they were interrupted.

"It looks newly done," Masara murmured. "And it looks northern too, not like a spell that's been fully assimilated." That was the thing about magic. There were always spells and brews you could learn, but they worked best when you had truly made it yours, or if it was yours.

Masara often wished the fireless explosions Arlis was so fond of hadn't been her obvious calling.

"How can you––" Arlis began, but then the tent flap opened and a man stuck his head in.

He came all the way in when he saw Masara was awake, daylight flashing through the opening, and stood before them.

"Good," he observed after an assessing gaze. "Surgeon said if you were out the whole two days, we might have problems."

He wasn't a very tall man, but he was broad-shouldered and confident, a soldier in a blue cloak. He had the olive skin and dark hair of some of the Kassan, though with clearer, lighter eyes that spoke of some northern heritage. Or magic and vanity.

The soldier crossed his arms and frowned when Masara said nothing. It took Masara a moment to realize he had been expecting her to speak––he had asked no question. She instead had been looking to Arlis, to see if her squire recognized the soldier, but a twitch of Arlis's fingers said, he's new, and Masara wondered again where they were. The tent also kept them from hearing just what kind of camp lay outside. Masara would bet it was far larger than the one company that braved the foothills and her attack, if the general was said to be coming.

"Are you injured?" the soldier demanded, eyes narrowing.

Masara smiled––carefully, lopsided.

"I believe so," she answered.

The soldier's frown didn't change. "Well enough to speak the general now, I see."

"Lead on!" Arlis challenged boldly, unwilling to be overlooked and left behind. Masara didn't bother to check her.

"Oh no," the soldier corrected with a grim smile. "Do you think we're letting you out of this nice tent? The general's on his way here. You should be honored. Him coming to you." The soldier sounded disgruntled enough by the necessary breach of etiquette that not even Arlis commented.

They didn't have to wait long. The soldier left the tent after another moment of silence––did he think either Masara or Aris would say something, unprompted?––and then the flap opened again, and he returned. This time, he was followed by a younger man, another soldier, alert and brisk. He'd become very tan under the Amirran sun, his hair burnished to a golden blond currently bare of a crown, but Masara was surprised to recognize the general.

Arlis shifted by her side, suspicious. The general regarded the both of them in silence, his pale brown eyes almost dark in the tent's dim light.

"Leave it open, Kinlo," the general––if that was how he chose to style himself––said, and Kinlo, the first soldier, went to pull back the opening. Clear morning light spilled inside, silhouetting the general, and from his slight smirk, he knew its effect. "They won't run."

Masara quite honestly didn't feel up to a break for freedom, so he was right, which was mildly irritating. The smoke of the incense kept her weak, as though she hadn't slept or rested in days.

"We're in the middle of my camp. Surrounded by thousands of men," the general explained reasonably. One couldn't hope to escape or be rescued against such odds. Amir's people really would be penned into the foothills, with Yina as her only stronghold. "Of course," the general said, "we will treat a high lady of the land and..." he trailed off, and frowned at Arlis.  What stories had his men had told of Masara and Arlis's capture?

Arlis's fingers twitched. Treat us with honor, I bet, she signed. Masara affected not to notice, and did not smile.

"Well?" the general prompted.

Masara lifted her gaze and fixed on the shadows by the door. "I didn't realize you wanted an answer," she excused herself. "The young Lady Arlis is my squire, if that is what you were looking for."

The general nodded, as if all was now confirmed for him, and he stepped to the side, away from the tent opening. It was strange to think of such a man––young, open-faced, eager for action and the field itself––ordering the High Priest's death. This general had plenty of battlefields to choose from, without provoking a new series of them. But he had advisers, and they were apparently in the capital, directing the empire while the general was here.

"And it was the two of you who blocked the advance company?"

Masara inclined her head as far as she could.

"You wouldn't have gotten far anyway." Arlis raised her voice in a taunt. "The foothills can be quite haunted, you know."'

The general snorted. "I don't doubt it. I don't think 'foothills' is fair name for them, either. It's like calling the Henori river a little creek. I'm ready to forget the whole campaign." He sounded matter-of-fact.

"By all means, do," Masara suggested.

"But there's Lapur to worry about. And your mages."

"Our mages," Masara repeated, turning it into a question with an arched brow. The movement pulled at a scrape on her cheek by her hairline.

The general looked at her, slow and considering.

"Yes. Mine are worried. My advisers tell me it's unnatural that you don't use spells. Materials, incantations - the common instruments." He paused, then added: "Is it?"

Masara spoke before Arlis could. "Your imperial majesty," she said blandly, deciding now was as good a moment as any to dispense with all pretense, "why should any Amirran spill our secrets to you?"

Arlis frowned, backing down. She hadn't known who the general was, and Masara could tell she was swiftly reconsidering their situation.  

"I have found some who were very talkative, actually," the emperor-general retorted. Arlis hissed at the implication of torture––but Masara frowned at the general’s honest, untroubled irritation, and heard her quiet oft-ignored fear confirmed.

There was a traitor.

How else could Amirasa have fallen? And their escape to the foothills had been too close, too harried. Masara signed another hold to Arlis, one that called for caution, and said nothing.

"Unfortunately, they do not know much about your magics."

"You have captured Amirasa," Masara replied mildly, though the admission was ash on her tongue. She didn't dare ask for the general's chatty Amirran, not yet. "If your mages cannot see the spells of our city, that does not mean anything."

"They see those spells," the emperor-general clarified. "The battle magic, on the other hand..."

He trailed off expectantly, but neither Arlis nor Masara rose to fill the silence. When it stretched on, the emperor straightened, chin lifting as though he suddenly felt the weight of his crown, and said, "Even if you don't talk, you will be useful bargaining tools. Perhaps now your king will be tempted to meet me at a crossroads. What do you think, High Lady Masara?"

Masara offered the lopsided smile she could, but without warmth. "If negotiation is what you wish, I will write to my king myself."

"You doubt me?" the general demanded.

"Your army holds our ancient capital. You have done nothing but kill our people and claim our land."

"I sent an ambassador, and your king gave him back and declared war."

"Ambassador?" Arlis snapped. "Is that a new word for assassin?"

"What are you talking about?"

"The High Priest," Masara answered succinctly. It came out flat, an accusation torn free of the sudden hollow chasm that threatened her. It appeared suddenly, as usual, and nearly all-encompassing. She breathed through it slowly, counting in her head to ten.

"He was the head of a militant religious order," the general replied carefully, sensing the delicacy of the topic. "The greatest obstacle to diplomacy. He would never accept surrender."

Arlis scowled, but Masara called for her silence again––she was never very obedient for long, but she held her tongue for the moment.

"And did your sources also believe Amir would be amenable to surrender after an assassination?" Masara asked, with pointed equanimity.

The emperor-general frowned, and crossed his arms, and then changed the subject.

"I think the most important thing to remember is Lapur. They cannot be allowed to grow past the Blighted lands."

"How gratifying, that our kingdom can be a foothold in your imperial wars."

It wasn't exactly a fair assessment; Lapur worried Amir, too, with its constant, probing incursions north of the desert, into the no man's land usually left to Amir.

But it was Kas, young and full of its own power who had invaded, not Lapur.

The emperor-general's eyes narrowed, glinting nearly like gold as he coolly declared, "Say what you will, High Lady. But we cannot afford an Amirran succession crisis, not with Lapur so close and so restless."

Masara gestured minutely, freeing Arlis while she considered the general's words.

"That was your reasoning for your conquest of Seriona," Arlis burst out, after holding her tongue for what surely felt like ages to her. "We are not Seriona. In Amir, we know our king and our prince!"

The general frowned at Arlis, but replied to her as seriously as he had to Masara. "And if your king should prefer his niece over his son?" he challenged.

Arlis strained briefly, forgetting she was tied up as she tried to point at Masara. "We are here," she settled for instead, spitting the words out furiously. "A lone knight sacrificed to hold off your whole company, the high lady, the king's supposed favorite––doesn't that tell you anything?"

A new uneasiness settled in Masara's chest as she realized how badly she had underestimated her young squire. Arlis understood Masara's decision... and she was still a fool for endangering herself. In the past half year of border skirmishes, the outbreak of war, and their flight from Amirasa, Arlis had grown up a great deal.

Masara felt she herself had aged decades.

The general's expression didn't change, yet Masara still felt a shift in his attitude.

"It tells me more than you know," he said, and then waved his hand, dismissing the matter. "My ladies, I've been distracted from my purpose. I simply wished to inform you that you will be hostages until a suitable agreement can be come to with your king, which I hope will come swiftly. Until then, you will be kept with the camp quite safely, and we will do our best to see you treated with honor. If you need anything within reason, you need only shout to the guards." He glanced at Arlis, and added, "I don't think you'll have an issue with that."

Arlis regarded the general balefully. He ignored the young squire's glares, and asked Masara directly, "Should I send the surgeon to you again, my lady?"

Arlis fumed under her breath about it being his fault anyway; Masara's mind spun.

"That would be appreciated, your imperial majesty," she said quietly, focused more on the realizations that were slowly coming together for her, overcoming her unwillingness to see them.

"In the field, I prefer the title Imperial General. Hokiraj," said the emperor, magnanimous in his role as captor, familiarity offered as a flattering courtesy.

"Well then, Imperial General. It appears we are in your hands," Masara returned in kind, though distracted.

The imperial general coughed, made a vague noise of agreement, and then made his departure with, "I will send that surgeon along. Later, we will discuss that letter and what terms your king may agree to.”

As soon as he was gone, Kinlo followed him out and shut the tent. The haste of his exit went on unremarked, and it was Arlis who finally broke the silence.

“I think there’s a traitor, sir,” she whispered, reluctant to speak her fear too loudly.

Her squire was so old at fourteen, yet Masara wanted to protect her still. "I think I know who it is,” she prevaricated.

The king had broached the idea of changing the succession only once that Masara knew of, and only idly. Masara knew he would never act without his son’s complete agreement; it was how rule had been decided between himself and his older sister, Masara’s mother. He had thought he might have Panam’s approval.

Only Panam and Masara were not siblings, and it had been a while since they had been close as such.

Oh, cousin, she thought, unease dripping through her memories of Panam like oil. Could you really?

But Masara could not let despair overcome her. She had Arlis to protect... and Amir, too. However she could. 

[avarkriss]

of castles and magic: sfw version

✭・.・✫

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Female Reader (magic!royalty!au, no y/n, she/her)

Rated: A for All, minimal warnings apply 

Word Count: 34.143k 

Summary:  King Obi-Wan Kenobi has been given you, the princess of Aquilae, as retribution for breaking a one hundred year treaty between your kingdoms. After living in Coruscant you are kidnapped and learn of a plot to destroy him and his lineage, leaving the kingdom of Coruscant vulnerable to rule by Ziost, the evil tsis kingdom of the north. You must return to Coruscant and your king to stop the plot before it’s too late - but will you?  

Huge special thanks to @beskars​​​​ ((and her sith!obi anon)) for being a font of encouragement and the inspiration for this series

Warnings: some gentle smooches, canon typical blood and violence, manipulation, some sexism, nightmares, a back massage, poison; please let me know if you need anything else tagged! 

Image credit: unsplash

Author’s Note: I know there are a number of readers that were interested in this story but are not fans of spice/smut, and that’s totally okay! To make it easier than skipping over sections of work, I re-did a few areas and made one long document without any smut. This is the whole story from start to finish. Hooray for happy endings! Enjoy, share what you can, and be well ~

CHAPTER ONE - PRINCIPIUM

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, there was great conflict on the planet Ereyasla. For years the lands were plagued with war between the jidai, practitioners of qyasik - an ancient magic believed to tie all things together, and those that did not believe in such things. A truce was eventually called and for generations the planet had been peaceful, with many people believing that the jidai were extinct. However, mounting tensions and greed began to threaten that peace once more. 

Aquilae was an island kingdom surrounded by a glittering blue-green sea, enjoying a pleasant climate most of the year. From a kitehawk’s point of view the kingdom was rather unassuming with its mountainous landscape, studded with hardy evergreens and small flowering plants growing between the rocks. It was what lay below those rocks, however, that brought Aquilae into the limelight and the center of the growing conflict. 

Deep below the surface of Aquilae and throughout the mountains were the greatest kyber deposits on the entire planet. These mines were of great interest to the people of Coruscant and Ziost, and while Coruscant was open to peaceful trade, Ziost sought to take the mines - and Aquilae - by force. 

One hundred years ago the kings of Aquilae and Coruscant forged a treaty to ensure that Coruscant would receive a steady supply of kyber, and Aquilae would receive protection from Ziost. These stipulations in addition to peaceful and open trade between the kingdoms would allow both to prosper in their own right, and for the past hundred years, the citizens of Aquilae and Coruscant have enjoyed a thriving relationship. 

Which is precisely why the current reigning king of Coruscant, Obi-Wan Kenobi, was so miffed upon receiving his latest communication from Aquilae. He let out an exasperated sigh before rubbing his temple with an index finger, crumpling the parchment in his other hand before letting it fall to the ground. 

The prince of Coruscant watched the paper land heavily on the dias, clearing his throat to announce his presence. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, nervously clutching the hilt of the sword laying at his waist. 

“Well Anakin, it appears that Aquilae has ‘run out of kyber,’ according to the letter I just received from King Abigor.” Obi-Wan’s voice was dripping in sarcasm, a feeling running through him that told him the king of Aquilae was being less than truthful about the kyber situation. 

“So my lord, I take it that means we’re going on an adventure?” Anakin was smiling now, watching Obi-Wan straighten in his throne before descending the shallow steps to stand in front of him. 

“Yes, I do believe we are. Gather Cody, Rex, and a few of the troops while I go to the archives to collect the treaty. We’ll take my ship.” 

Anakin nodded before leaving the throne room while Obi-Wan passed through a small door set off to the side. If anyone was going to attempt to harm his people in any way, he would be the person to set them straight. 

And the statement he needed to make couldn’t be accomplished through a letter. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

King Abigor was pacing the floor of his throne room while his wife, Queen Mara, watched with the kind of patience one can only have after dealing with this sort of thing on an almost daily basis for the better part of twenty-five years. 

“They spotted King Kenobi’s sails in the channel!” he fumed, cheeks burning with anger as he threw his hands into the air. “How dare he? How dare he come here unannounced? And on what business?” 

Mara let out a quiet breath, always the steady one in their relationship. “Well, you did tell him that we had no kyber, and you and I both know that that’s not true.” 

“But what of it! There are no more jidai, why must we uphold this ancient treaty when we could double our profits with-” 

“Do not speak of that magic here where the walls have ears,” Mara hissed, and Abigor stilled for a moment. 

“If he finds out we’re lying,” Abigor began, before Mara smoothed her hands over her skirts and joined her husband where he stood. 

“That’s a big if, my dear,” she smiled, running her hand across his cheek. “But if he does discover kyber remains in our mines, he will certainly demand retribution. What might you propose we give him in return?” 

He stroked his beard for a few moments, mulling over the options before breaking into a devilish smile. 

“We could always give him our daughter.” 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Obi-Wan stood at the mouth of a great cave, the mining equipment strewn about and seemingly abandoned. Commanders Cody and Rex waited nearby with their small company of troops as they watched King Kenobi and Prince Skywalker pace the entrance of the cave before Obi-Wan knelt before it, placing both palms on the ground. 

He silently recited old words to himself, focusing on the bond between him and the crystals that he sought. Cody always swore the king was never at more peace than when he was meditating, a picture of pure serenity as he sought out his target. As he went deeper into his meditative trance his features became more and more quiet, a gentle breeze rustling through his hair. 

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan murmured, small rocks beginning to float around where he knelt. “Come tell me what you feel.” 

Anakin mimicked Obi-Wan’s posture, placing both hands on the ground, silently chanting as he focused deeper into the ground. More pebbles lifted from the surface, slowly swirling around the two men as they dove deeper, searching. 

Anakin took in a deep breath, finding Obi-Wan’s signature woven throughout the cave. He took a low breath before humming, speaking low. 

“There is no shortage of kyber here.” 

Obi-Wan sat back on his heels and Anakin followed, the small stones clattering to the earth around them as their connection broke. “I do believe it’s time we paid King Abigor a visit.” 

As they stood and brushed off their knees, Obi-Wan called Cody and Rex over. “Stay here at the mines with the troops you’ve brought. I’ll send Commander Wolffe with supplies for you all to make camp for a while. We’ll need you to help supervise the mining procedures until the terms of the treaty have been re-established.” 

Cody and Rex each offered their king a fast salute, replying “yes sir,” in snappy unison before returning to their men, giving them the assignment. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Can you tell us exactly which mine you were at?” King Abigor bristled, vainly attempting to mask his discomfort at the presence of the foreign king

Obi-Wan’s lips were set in a tight line before he sighed, watching Anakin rest his hand on the large crystal at the hilt of his sword. “We were at the northern edge of the island, the cave that faces the sea. We’re certain there’s kyber there, and an abundance at that.” 

“How can you be so certain?” Queen Mara interjected, catching a warning glance from her husband before she straightened against the back of her throne. “Those mines are some of the oldest in the kingdom.” 

Anakin couldn’t help the half smile and small chuckle that escaped him; very few people believed in the jidai ways outside of Coruscant. He looked towards his master, interested to see how he was going to negotiate this situation. 

“Magic,” he said curtly, remaining unphased when Abigor and Mara began to laugh. 

“You think I speak in jest?” Obi-Wan challenged, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“But of course you’re not serious,” Abigor continued, “no one practices the old religio-” 

Abigor stopped short, watching in terror as a small dagger hovered in front of Mara’s nose. 

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan warned lightly, “these are our allies, remember? We’d never wish them the harm they seem to wish on our people.” 

With that Anakin opened his palm to call the dagger home, placing it back in the side of his boot as he gestured for Obi-Wan to continue. 

“You’ve broken our treaty, one that has been upheld for one hundred years. We will require some form of advance to make up for the lack of kyber these past six weeks, which has caused quite a commotion back in Coruscant. Our industry relies on these resources, and you rely on our protection. What do you propose?” 

Abigor and Mara looked back at each other before Mara nodded. “We can offer you our daughter, she is of similar age to your prince and would make a fitting bride,” Abigor stated plainly, as if he wasn’t bartering his own child’s life and freedom away. 

“Anakin is already married,” Obi-Wan droned, smirking slightly when Anakin stated “happily” with great pride. “We don’t trade people in Coruscant -” 

Abigor coughed to interrupt and then continued on, his heavy eye roll not missed by either Obi-Wan or Anakin, “then she can be a bride for you. She may be a few years your younger but she is strong in spirit. I have no doubt she will produce many heirs for you.” 

“I’m afraid our lineage doesn’t quite work that way,” Obi-Wan snarked, annoyance flickering across his face. “Will you not give her any choice in this matter? Perhaps we can come to-” 

“Do you want the girl or not?” Abigor barked, face flushing as his anger flared. 

“I think that will do,” Obi-Wan conceded, face remaining stoic. “Send for her then, so I might meet the young woman you’re so graciously giving to me to make up for your shortcomings.” 

King Abigor’s lip curled before he nodded at the guard in the corner who quickly rushed out the heavy wooden doors, eager to be free of palpable tension. 

Anakin shuffled closer to Obi-Wan, leaning in to whisper in his ear. “You don’t seem very pleased, my lord.” 

Obi-Wan simply hummed in response, towing Anakin to the side to await your arrival. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You were strolling through the gardens with a small group of ladies, quietly entertaining the latest court gossip while you admired the blooming flowers lining the path. When you reached a small group of marble benches near the fountain at the center of the garden you decided to sit for a while, enjoying the cool breeze tickling your cheeks. 

“You’re awfully quiet today, Ari,” Gen remarked, gently tapping you on the shoulder to get your attention. 

“You know I’ve never been one for court gossip,” you laughed, giving her a slight shake of your head. “But if I’m being honest, Oliva should have known we would all find out she was sleeping with -” 

You paused for a moment, watching one of your father’s guards come rushing towards you. You recognized the young man as Thomas, one of your friends growing up, separated by court rules and your mother’s penchant to control every aspect of your life. 

“Your highness,” he bowed quickly, “your presence is requested in the throne room immediately.” 

“What, why?” you quipped, irritated to have your afternoon walk cut short. 

“Your father requested -” 

“Thomas please,” you pressed. “Is it truly urgent that I go now?” 

Thomas looked back and forth, making sure no other guards were watching before he took your hand and pulled you away from your ladies. 

“Ari look,” he whispered, urgency written across his face, “King Kenobi is here. There was some issue with the treaty and to make up for it your parents… they’re giving you to him.” 

“King Kenobi?” you gasped, watching Thomas’s face fall as he nodded. “He’s Coruscanti, they still believe in magic up there - they think they’re witches!” 

“They’re jidai, highness,” Thomas offered, his correction doing little to quell your temper. 

“Regardless, I’m not leaving this castle to go live with some magic man I’ve never met,” you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“You may not have much of a choice, princess.” Thomas was too calm for your liking, resigned to your fate before the reality had time to settle on your shoulders. 

“We’ll see about that,” you smirked. “Let’s go.” 

You took off marching out of the garden, heading straight to the throne room, Thomas following on your heels. When you reached the large wooden doors you pulled one open, stomping inside as you stared down your mother and father.

"I won't be used as some kind of bargaining chip to appease some old magic king of the north," you shouted, stomping your foot for emphasis as you strode towards them, face set in stone.  

There was a quiet chuckle off to your side as your mother's face twisted in anger, stopping your advance. The man the noise belonged to turned into your field of view, forcing you to take a small step back as the power he radiated pushed against your chest. 

"It's a bit presumptuous to think me old when we've not even been properly introduced yet, darling," he smirked, his heavy crown sitting just slightly crooked, nestled in his auburn locks. 

"It's a bit presumptuous to call me darling when we've not been properly introduced yet," you retorted, watching the anger in your mother's face give way to embarrassment while your father's knuckles paled against the armrest of his throne. 

"Cheeky," he grinned, a dark look in his eye. "How charming." 

You glowered at him as the chamberlain rushed forward, bowing at the waist before Obi-Wan. “May I introduce his royal majesty, the king of Coruscant, Obi-Wan Kenobi, accompanied by his student and future successor, his royal highness, the prince of Coruscant, Anakin Skywalker.” 

You offered them a shallow curtsy dripping in sarcasm before the chamberlain bowed again, addressing the two men. “May I introduce her royal highness, the princess and heir of Aquilae -” 

He stopped for a moment, glaring at you as you cleared your throat with your arms crossed over your chest. Though he seethed with embarrassment at your refusal of your full name, he carried on with your introduction. “- who kindly requests that you call her Ari.” 

Obi-Wan and Anakin bowed in unison, the devilish smirk still etched onto the king’s face when he returned to his full height. 

“Ari is an interesting nickname,” he mused, letting his eyes roam up and down your body. 

“It came from my grandfather,” you huffed, chin pointed just slightly towards the ceiling in haughty obstination. 

“You can tell me more about it over dinner tonight,” he smiled, “it seems we have a lot to discuss.” 

"And if I refuse?" you rebutted, watching Prince Skywalker bite his lip, stopping what must have been some kind of laugh. 

"You have done enough refusing for today," your father barked, the surprise of his intrusion making you jump. “You will take your dinner in King Kenobi’s chambers and that is the end of the discussion!” 

You swallowed thickly before nodding, looking over Obi-Wan’s shoulder and far past Anakin, absorbed in the pattern of the tapestry on the wall. “I’ll go change then,” you muttered, turning on your heel to briskly leave the throne room. 

Obi-Wan glowered back at King Abigor, several words quickly coming to his mind before the king raised his hand and gestured towards Thomas. “Take King Kenobi and Prince Skywalker to their chambers,” he ordered, anger still underlining each word. 

The doors hadn’t fully closed before Obi-Wan and Anakin could hear various shouts and clanging coming from the other side, exchanging a sideways glance as they continued down the hall. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You smoothed your hands over the front of your skirts, sighing as your maid Malkyn tightened the corset of your silken navy gown. “What troubles you dear?” she sang to you, her voice always light and gentle. 

“Father and mother broke the treaty with Coruscant,” you said simply, nodding as she gasped in response. “To repay King Kenobi for breaking the treaty they’ve decided to give him me instead of the kyber his country is owed.” 

“Unfortunately you don’t always get a choice in these matters,” she consoled, rubbing her hand over the fabric on your arm. 

“Some kind of warning would have been nice least,” you grumbled, looking into the mirror as she delicately pinned up your hair. “I’ve always known I’m just a pawn to them...” She gave you a knowing look before placing the last pin, offering her arm which you quietly took. 

“Let’s get this over with then,” you groaned, ignoring the small voice telling you it was the first dinner of a lifetime. 

When you and Malkyn arrived in front of the guest chambers she raised her fist to knock on the door, taking a step back when the door opened before she had even made contact. To your surprise it was King Kenobi himself on the other side and not a guard or servant.

“You’re early,” he remarked, smiling at you once more. 

“All the better to get this over with as soon as possible,” you growled, feeling Malkyn dig her fingers into your elbow. Obi-Wan merely chuckled instead, opening the door all the way before dismissing your maid for the evening. 

You slowly crossed the threshold into his chambers, eyeing a table set for two. “And where is your prince?” you questioned, standing near the mahogany chair before Obi-Wan pulled it out for you. 

“He elected to dine in his room to allow us some time to get to know each other,” he answered. The cadence of his voice was pleasant in your ears, his accent crisp and clean like fresh water flowing from a steady stream. You made some noise of assent before placing a napkin on your lap, watching him pour you each a glass of purple wine. 

“I know you’re displeased about these circumstances,” he affirmed, taking a seat across from you while gesturing for you to fill your plate. “I could make you come with me,” he continued, reaching for a bunch of grapes and a piece of pheasant, “but I would rather not do that.” 

“My father’s word is final,” you groused, picking up your own grapes and a few pieces of cheese and bread. 

“It is,” he agreed, tilting his head so that his crown slid just slightly forward on his head. “However, it’s distasteful that they would use you to pay for their neglect. A marriage was not what was expected when I sailed here today.” He popped a few grapes into his mouth, watching as yours opened briefly in surprise. You quickly pressed your mouth closed, narrowing your eyes at him. 

“So you also feel that they’re using me for their gain?” you continued, taking in the way the light reflected in the blue kyber crystals of his crown against his slightly disheveled hair. 

“If your parents don’t make amends for their shortcomings, the treaty will be null. This will leave Aquilae open to siege by Ziost, as Coruscant has been providing protection to Aquilae ever since the treaty was signed.” 

You nodded as you rolled a grape in your fingers, watching him dab the corner of his mouth with his napkin before taking another bite of his dinner. “Ziost lies to the north of Coruscant and is ruled by the tsis, practitioners of dark qyasik that would certainly take over Aquilae and use it as a stepping stone towards planetary dominion, as you well know.” 

You scoffed at that, quickly biting into your bread and avoiding his questioning gaze. 

“You don’t believe in the ways of magic?” he questioned softly, watching as you shook your head no. 

“Go ahead and pick up your glass then,” he challenged. You looked up at the ceiling before shaking your head, reaching your hand out to wrap around the bottom of your cup. 

You grunted when you pulled at it, staring at the glass as it stayed in place, mocking you. Obi-Wan then placed his elbow on the table and outstretched his hand. With a wiggle of his finger your glass lifted towards him, the stem landing between his index and middle finger. 

You gaped at him as he curled his fingers around the glass, smirking at you as he swirled it in his hand. He took a small sip before sending the cup back to you, chuckling as you looked between it and him. 

“I’d hate for anything to happen to your kingdom,” Obi-Wan offered sincerely, “or to you. Your spirit intrigues me and while I won’t force anything on you, I can give you protection from further use, an endless supply of anything your heart could ever desire, and if it interests you, I can teach you how to channel the very magic you deny.” 

You stammered as you searched for a response, awestruck by him and the realization that the power you had felt roll off of him before had been the strength of his connection to everything around him. 

“I also have several dogs to keep you company, my favorite of which is a three-legged mutt named Bandit,” he smiled, popping another grape in his mouth.  

You glanced all around the room as you mulled him over in your mind, finally settling on the calm of his azure eyes. 

“Okay,” you acquiesced, lifting your glass and tilting it towards him. “May your dogs be more charming than you.” 

You smiled as he laughed, finding the way his crown seemed to tilt on his head oddly endearing. He lifted his glass to you in return, taking another sip. 

“We’ll leave at the end of the week darling, you’ll be welcomed by my people with open arms.” 

CHAPTER TWO - COMMUTATIO

“We’ll leave at the end of the week darling, you’ll be welcomed by my people with open arms.” 

“And what of the marriage contract?” 

Your question caught Obi-Wan off guard and he sputtered against the rim of his wine glass, furrowing his brow as he waited for you to continue. 

“I am the only heir of Aquilae,” you pointed out. “If I am to wed you I should like to make sure my people will have a prosperous future as well, because eventually they will be our people.” 

Obi-Wan placed his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers as he considered your words. 

“I won’t force you into anything you don’t want, and that includes marrying me,” he offered. 

“I understand that and thank you for your generosity,” you began, bowing your head towards him. “However, as you pointed out, my parents have no issue with using me. I would prefer to have a tight legal contract as your partner to prevent any difficulties with them in the future.” 

He nodded slowly as he let his arms fall to his sides, mulling your words over in his head. 

“I think you’re wise beyond your years,” he lauded, lifting a hand to run his fingers over his beard. “But I fear the kind of contract we need will take a significant amount of time to prepare, and I must return to Coruscant at the end of this week.” 

“We must return to Coruscant at the end of this week,” you emphasized, smiling at him with bright sincerity, and, if you were being honest, a little bit of hope. 

His heart thrummed at the sight you, the way light seemed to radiate from the upturned corners of your mouth. It was in that quiet moment that he resigned to do anything in his power to make sure that smile never faded. 

“We must, yes,” he agreed, lifting his glass to you once more. “We’ll begin the negotiations tomorrow, and we will send our court barrister here to ensure it’s completed in a timely manner.” 

Your shoulders finally softened, breathing easier as you accepted your fate. He seemed to you a man of his word, which was more than you could say of your father. Perhaps you could grow to love Coruscant, his people, and even him, given the time. 

You stifled a small yawn as you sat back in your chair, the day having been far more eventful than any you could remember recently. 

“Let me get the guard for you,” he offered, rising from his seat. 

A few beats passed and he returned to your side, providing his hand as you pushed your chair from the table. You took it with grace, laying yours over his as he walked you to his door. 

“I must say, I am quite pleased that you are choosing to join me in Coruscant so soon,” he said casually, leaning against the wooden frame. 

You laughed lightly, wrapping your arms around yourself as your father’s guard approached to escort you back to your rooms. 

“You should have led with the dogs,” you smirked as you turned away, absorbing the sound of his quiet laugh as the door closed behind you. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Obi-Wan’s robes flourished behind him as he strode down the hallway to Anakin’s rooms, pausing just for a moment to admire the view of the twin moons reflecting in the sea. He knocked briefly before hearing Anakin’s call to enter. 

“I see I’m not the only one forgoing the king's guards,” Obi-Wan greeted, stepping into the room to find Anakin lounging across a chair by the fire, a large book open across his chest.

“And I’m glad to see you made it through your meal unscathed,” he joked in return, carefully glancing Obi-Wan up and down in search of any injuries. 

Obi-Wan shook his head as he settled into the chair next to Anakin, crossing his leg over his lap. 

“You like her?” he began, slowly tapping his fingers on his boot. 

“She challenges you, master,” Anakin smiled, closing his book as he sat up and leaned more towards Obi-Wan. “And I do like anyone that keeps you on your toes.” 

“No wonder you’re so full of yourself,” Obi-Wan countered with a briefly serious face before both men fell into a small fit of laughter. 

After a beat of pleasant silence Anakin began again. “I sense something about this place,” he mused, resting his chin in his hand as he thought. 

“Aquilae hasn’t always been so opposed to qyasik, but there is fear where there is lack of knowledge,” Obi-Wan reflected sagely as Anakin nodded his head in understanding. 

“I’ll need you to return to Coruscant ahead of us to have her rooms prepared,” Obi-Wan requested, to which Anakin quickly agreed. 

They sat in silence for a few moments, Obi-Wan lost in thought as Anakin played with the sparks of the fire, watching the specs of red and yellow light dance together. 

“If she’s open to learning, I’m going to teach her our way,” Obi-Wan ruminated, fingers tugging gently at his beard. He missed the way Anakin slowly turned to look at him, mouth parted as he blinked slowly, attempting to absorb what he just heard. 

“Can that… be done?” he wondered, sitting back in his chair. 

“I did teach you, Ani,” Obi-Wan snickered, catching the pillow Anakin tossed at him mid-air, gently guiding it to his lap. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

King Abigor paced his chambers, still fuming from the day. 

“I cannot believe the nerve of that man, showing up here, demanding we uphold this blasted treaty and for what! There are no more ‘jidai,’ no more of those old fools running around with their magic hand tricks,” he bristled, kicking at the carpet that lay beneath his great bed. 

“And what of it Abigor?” Mara questioned, laying back against her pillows as she listened to her husband resume his pacing. “That treaty was made in blood, it’s not easily undone.” 

She heard him grunt for a moment before he paused, staring out the window at the channel separating Aquilae and Coruscant, almost as if he wished for magic to flow through his veins so that he could light the very heart of Kenobi’s kingdom on fire from where he stood. 

Abigor turned towards Mara as he spoke, his face contorting as he schemed. “What’s that old saying dear, the enemy of my enemy is my friend?”

“You can’t be serious,” Mara ventured, watching him move slowly towards the bed. 

“Think of it. There is hardly anyone left that practices that magic and if they do remain they’re likely in Coruscant. We’ve not had problems with Ziost in years. While the kyber remains we can make double, or triple the profit even, by trading with them and perhaps other kingdoms and in the process,” he paused, sucking in a deep breath, “in the process we can take down Coruscant and share the lands between us and Ziost.” 

King Abigor’s smile was venomous, his teeth bared in the torchlight with his lips curled in tight. Mara blinked for a moment as his words settled, pulling the comforter to the side to allow him to slither into the bed next to her. 

“Send a raven at first light,” he suggested. 

She nodded, curling into his embrace before placing a kiss against his chest, quickly lifting her head to meet his eyes as a devious thought of her own crossed her mind. 

“We’ll delay the marriage contract as long as necessary. I think I know the perfect gift for our new friends.” 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

One could say winter came early to Ziost, but in truth it never fully left. The kingdom was cold all year save for the winter when it turned bitter, the winds having teeth sharp enough to bite into your very bones. Most people chose to live underground, taking advantage of the planet's warmth below the surface; it was preferable to many to mine ore deep in heat than to die blackened by frostbite. 

A pageboy was making his way to the surface on his mail rounds, noticing a dark speck in the sky that gave him cause to hasten his step. When he reached the surface he saw a great black bird, stark against the snowy backdrop as it flew in low circles, searching out a suitable perch. 

He called to the birth then with an old word - tapti. It descended towards his outstretched arm and landed there, shifting to stick out its left leg. The page untied the neatly rolled parchment, muttering “fahka,” as he lifted the bird to the sky. 

The breeze ruffled his hair as it took off, his face falling in shock as he saw the Emperor's name scrawled across the parchment. He broke into a run when he saw the Aquilaean seal, shouting along the way for General Grievous. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“I don’t understand why you’re upset about the barrister’s leave, daughter.” 

Your mother’s voice was cold as she stared at you, your father silent at her side. Obi-Wan and Anakin exchanged a sideways look before returning their interest to their plates, suddenly finding the breakfast offerings far more interesting. 

“You were upset about having to go to Coruscant just yesterday afternoon,” she continued, “and now you’re demanding to start the marriage contract today?” 

“She did have dinner with King Kenobi last night,” your father drawled, suggestively lifting his eyebrows as your mother stifled a laugh. 

“Well I never,” Obi-Wan began, heavily setting his fork down before Anakin placed a firm hand on his shoulder. 

“Yes, we dined together, at your behest,” you spat. “And I decided to-” 

“No,” your father corrected, “you decided nothing. And we’ll get the contract together as soon as the barrister returns, the last thing we need is you thinking.” 

You looked across the table at Obi-Wan to find him fuming, the tips of his ears and nose a brilliant ruddy shade. He was about to respond when Anakin cleared his throat, earning a hard stare from everyone at the table. 

“I’m returning to Coruscant today, to ready the castle for your arrival. If it pleases you and King Kenobi I can request our court barrister to begin the contract, which can of course be amended upon the arrival of your own.” He spoke calmly, the corner of his mouth ticked up in a smirk when you and Obi-Wan gave a synchronous ‘yes.’

There were a few moments of silence before you pushed back from the table, dropping your napkin onto your plate. 

“I have things to pack,” you grumbled, striding over to Malkyn before she quickly escorted you to your rooms. 

Once the door had closed your father sighed deeply, sending a pitying glance towards the king and his prince. “Soon she’ll be your problem,” he droned, resting one hand on his cheek as he looked down the table. 

Obi-Wan’s face darkened as he stood, leaning forward as his knuckles paled against the wood. 

“Funny,” he growled, Anakin rising to stand next to him. “I don’t find her to be a problem at all.” 

Obi-Wan swiftly turned from the table, swallowing his other choice comments as Anakin followed closely at his heels. 

Once in the hallway he paused, turning towards Anakin. “I’ll meet you at the gates. I’m going to speak to Ari and see if she wishes to accompany us to the docks.” 

“Of course my lord,” Anakin nodded, hurrying to his rooms as Obi-Wan hastened towards yours.

He knew he was in the right place when he heard your frustrated shouts, quickly rapping on your door. 

“Oh!” Malkyn exclaimed when she found him standing there, hands folded neatly behind his back. 

“Hello there,” he smiled, “I was wondering if perhaps the princess might like to join me for a ride to the docks? Anakin is due to leave in a few moments and -” 

“Absolutely,” you called from the side, thanking Malkyn quickly before stepping around her, joining Obi-Wan in the hall. 

He bowed his head towards you before offering his elbow. You gently wrapped your hand around it, giving him a quiet squeeze of thanks before guiding him to the courtyard, pointedly avoiding the dining room. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Emperor Palpatine’s quarters were very dark, the scare light coming from several candles covered by opaque rock. No one could say when he last stepped onto the surface, his paled skin indicative of his many years spent in the shadows. Some say he was one of the original tsis cast out of Coruscant. Others say he was born in a deep mine of Ziost and had never seen the sunlight. 

No one dared to ask, and if they did, they likely wouldn’t live to share the answer. The emperor was a man of short stature and even shorter patience, which was why his smile was particularly unsettling. 

“Well this is an interesting development,” Emperor Palpatine grinned, pouring over the parchment on his desk with Count Dooku and General Grievous sitting patiently across from him. 

The count and the general leaned forward with interest, watching Palpatine sit back in his chair, his smile deepening as he clasped his fingers in front of his face. 

“It seems that Aquilae is eager to move out of Coruscant’s shadow, and they’re seeking our help to do it,” he said with foreign levity. 

“What do we stand to gain from this?” General Grievous questioned, lowering his head in deference when he received a scathing glare from both Dooku and Palpatine. 

“You foolish man,” Dooku spat. “Aquilae sits atop the largest kyber mines on the entire planet. We can push Coruscant and Aquilae to fall to their own hubris. We would be unstoppable.” 

“Exactly,” Palpatine continued, tapping the tips of his fingers together. “Do you still have a guard in Coruscant?” 

“Just one,” Dooku offered. “But he is loyal. What would you have him do?” 

“We’ll need him to seek out the prince. Skywalker will be necessary to take down Kenobi and if we destroy them and their jidai council, Coruscant and then Aquilae will be ours.” The men nodded slowly as he laughed, folding his hands in his lap. 

“The only complication is the king’s most recent acquisition. The fools gave him their daughter but they are stalling the marriage contract -” 

Palpatine paused to curl his lip at Grievous who made a choking sound at that, poorly disguising it with a cough. 

“They think she’ll bring you many heirs, Count Dooku. Through you we will grow our tsis empire and take this planet for our own.” 

Dooku smiled for the first time in what felt like a century, the muscles of his face sore from disuse. 

“Excellent,” he sneered. “When shall we begin?” 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Obi-Wan and Anakin flanked you, watching as the porter loaded his trunk onto the carriage. 

“You needn’t make a fuss about my arrival,” you offered quietly, rolling on the balls of your feet. 

“Of course we do princess, it’s not often that someone chooses to spend this much time with King Kenobi,” Anakin chided. His joke was met with a hard glare from the king himself as you stifled your laughter. 

“Anakin,” he warned sternly, the glint in his eyes giving away his mild amusement. 

“Come my lord… and my lady,” he hastily added, sweeping his arm towards the open door. “We should get to the docks before the ship leaves without me.” 

As your group rode towards the shoreline you pointed out various landmarks, highlighting some of the adventures you had when you were younger. 

“Oh!” you called, gesturing towards a large pine tree with sweeping verdant boughs. “I used to climb that tree to read. And when I became bored with that I would stand there and watch the sea, I could see almost the whole island from there. Some days when there wasn’t a cloud to be found I swore I could see the shores of your kingdom,” you reminisced fondly. 

You smiled gently to yourself as Obi-Wan nodded to Anakin, some unspoken message being shared between the two. 

“Do you think,” you started quickly, grabbing Obi-Wan’s elbow before pulling your hands back into your lap, slowly shaking your head before mumbling a nearly silent ‘nevermind.’ 

“I’m interested in hearing what you have to say,” Obi-Wan said earnestly, briefly reaching for your hand before pulling back, unwilling to give you any cause to hide from him. 

You turned to face him, keeping your eyes on the collar of his robes. “Do you think we could leave for Coruscant earlier? The barrister isn’t here anyways…” you trailed off, twisting your hands in your lap. 

“Of course,” he said gently, pushing his crown up to the top of his head. “As soon as you’re ready, we can leave.” 

When you lifted your eyes to meet his you found him smiling at you and you couldn’t help mirroring him, briefly rolling your lower lip between your teeth. He was about to speak when Anakin cleared his throat, nodding towards the window. 

“We’ve arrived,” he pointed out as the carriage slowed to a halt. He popped the door open, waving away the footman before climbing down, turning to offer you his assistance. Once you had exited King Kenobi took his place by your side, once again offering his elbow. 

You took an eager half step forward before falling back, looking towards Obi-Wan as he placed his hand on top of yours. 

“Would you like to wait for Anakin at the end of the dock?” He tilted his head towards the water as he spoke, seeming to read your thoughts before you had the chance to voice them. 

You nodded your head, nearly dragging him down the worn wooden planks as you walked to the edge. The sea was calm and glittered in the sun, clear enough that you could make out a few plants and several multicolored rocks at the base of the pylon below. 

“I’m afraid my castle isn’t so close to the ocean, darling,” he stated regretfully, noting the way you had lit up when you pointed out a group of small garsmelt swimming in circles just a few meters away. 

“How do you do that?” you questioned quietly, tightening your grip on his arm as you leaned forward to get a closer look at the fish. 

“Do what?” he laughed gently, placing his hand over yours to keep you from falling in as you edged ever closer to the water. 

“Seem to know what I’m thinking before I have the chance to say anything,” you suggested, briefly looking back at him before returning your attention to the creatures in front of you. 

He hummed gently, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb. 

“Purely observation, princess,” he smiled. “It seems Anakin is ready to board.” 

You turned to find Anakin standing near the gangway, smiling brightly with his hands crossed over his chest. You separated from Obi-Wan to admire his sailing vessel, returning to his side when Anakin waved you over. 

“We’ll be seeing you soon princess,” he bowed and you waved him goodbye, wishing him a safe journey across the channel. 

As the boat pulled away Obi-Wan wrapped a cautious hand around your back. 

“Is this alright?” he ventured, smiling when you leaned further into him. 

You took a few moments to enjoy the gentle sea breeze against your skin as you watched Anakin sail into the horizon. 

“I could stay here for hours but the sooner we return to the castle, the sooner we can join Anakin in Coruscant,” you sighed, pulling away from Obi-Wan to shuffle down the dock. 

He followed close behind you, offering a hand into the carriage before joining you in the seat, pulling the door closed with a gentle thud. 

As the carriage pulled away you quietly looked out the window, twiddling your fingers as you thought. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, turning to face him. 

“Whatever for?” 

“You’ve shown me nothing but kindness since arriving, and I did not grant you that same courtesy,” you stated plainly, examining him for any hints of the anger you so often found in your father.

“I can’t say I blame you,” he chuckled, relaxing against the seat. “And to be honest, I admire your spirit.” 

You felt heat rise under your skin as you gathered your courage, leaning over to place a gentle kiss on his soft cheek, the edge of his beard tickling under your chin. 

When you pulled away he lifted a hand to where your lips had been, smiling with surprise. 

CHAPTER THREE - EXCUBIA

Two and half days passed before you found yourself standing on the deck of the Razugi, sea breeze cool on your skin as you crossed your arms over the taffrail, leaning over the side to watch the waves lap at the hull.

You were lost in thought, remembering your tearful goodbye with Malkyn and Thomas that morning, the lingering hugs from Gen and your other friends at court. Your parents had stood on the steps of the castle, cold and distant, barely offering King Kenobi a stiff handshake as if this whole affair had been his idea. 

“I hope that you’ll visit soon, princess,” Thomas had whispered, pulling you in for one last hug. He lifted his eyes to find your father’s icy stare, slowly releasing you from his embrace. “But I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t.” 

You had wanted to bring them with you, heart full of regret for leaving them behind and wishing you had asked if Malkyn at the very least could join you in Coruscant until you had settled. You were rolling your lower lip between your teeth when Obi-Wan came over and leaned on the railing next to you, a flicker of worry in his eyes. 

“Are you alright?” he asked gently, placing a timid hand on your shoulder. 

“Yes,” you murmured, unsure if you were telling the truth or not. “I’m just thinking of my friends… I’ll miss them, you know.” 

Your lopsided smile was heavy, unable to light your eyes the way it did when you spoke of the things that truly brought you joy. 

“I understand,” he replied, giving you a gentle squeeze. “They may visit whenever they like. I wanted to let you know that we’re approaching the port town of Fiyasa if you’d like to see Coruscant for the first time.” 

“I would,” you sighed, pushing off the railing and wrapping your hand around his elbow, the motion so frequent that it was already beginning to feel like an old habit. He strode with you towards the upper deck, assisting you down the stairs of the quarterdeck and across the main before ascending the forecastle stairs.

Your mouth parted in surprise when you reached the top, taking in the grey, craggy coastline. You could make out gentle rolling hills, far less steep than the mountains of Aquilae, bright green and studded with what you guessed was some kind of large animal. 

The town of Fiyasa was breathtaking even from a distance, its white and gold buildings shimmering in the sunlight to welcome all who chose to dock there. You had yet to make landfall but you had the sense that Coruscant was nothing like you had learned in your carefully sculpted history lessons. 

"It's beautiful," you breathed, focusing back on the rolling green. "Are those animals on the hills?" 

"Yes," Obi-Wan confirmed, "a herd of orbak. There’s a farm not far from Fiyasa for those looking for mounts.” 

“Coruscant must be much larger than I imagined,” you mused, scanning the coastline for more as the ship began to slow, preparing to dock. 

“We still have a two hour ride until we reach the castle,” Obi-Wan mentioned, smirking as your face dropped in surprise at his admission. 

The ship slowly pulled in to dock and you noticed a small crowd had gathered on the pier, waving to King Kenobi before pointing towards you and exchanging curious glances. Obi-Wan’s smile was bright as he led you back to the main deck, guiding you down the gangway and towards the waiting carriage. 

While the porters brought your trunks from the ship Obi-Wan introduced you to his orbak Dolega. He disappeared for a brief moment as you patted Dolega’s long fur, admiring the gentle curl of his tusks and his ornate gold bridle. 

“Who’s a pretty boy,” you whispered, scratching behind his velvety soft ears. 

“I am, in the right light,” Obi-Wan joked, laughing lightly at the way you jumped when he surprised you. 

You were about to chastise him for scaring you when he lifted a sackcloth and smiled broadly. “I picked up a few sunfruit for the ride, I thought you might be hungry.” 

The growl in your stomach betrayed you as you grabbed at the bag despite the unfamiliarity of the fruit inside, shuffling behind him when he turned towards the carriage doors. Once you were settled into the seat beside him he handed you the strange orange fruit, watching you turn it over a few times in your hands as you searched out an entry point. 

“May I?” he ventured, holding his hand out for the fruit. You dropped it in his hand and watched as he held two of the four dangling peels between his thumbs and forefingers, tugging at them gently so they could give way to the bright titian flesh inside. He repeated his motion with the other two, holding the unwrapped fruit in his palm. 

He gently pulled away a segment and removed the seed, holding the piece out to you. When you bit into it you smiled at the sweetness, toes curling in your boots from the tang as the juice dripped from the corner of your mouth. You quickly finished your slice before smiling at Obi-Wan, who reached out to swipe the juice off of your chin with his thumb.  

“You like it?” he smiled, and you nodded quickly, reaching out your hand for another piece. He ate one himself as he watched you enjoy the bright citrus, gently bouncing in your seat as you split your piece in half, humming as the flavor washed over your tongue. 

When you reached for a slice again you offered it to him this time, cocking your head to the side as he bent down to take the fruit between his lips, gently kissing the tips of your fingers before he sat back against the seat. Heat spread across your skin as you lifted the other half of the segment to your mouth, smiling as you chewed. 

When he offered you another segment you mirrored him, taking the fruit between your lips with a gentle kiss. Your smile was brighter as you watched the tips of his ears flush, feeding each other until only the seeds and peel remained.

With your belly sated and the calming sway of the carriage you began to feel yourself drift off, slowly succumbing to a gentle slumber that left you leaning up against Obi-Wan, his hand draped around your shoulders with your head on his chest. He leaned his head back to sleep himself, an unfamiliar warmth spreading through his stomach that he couldn’t quite blame on the sunfruit. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Ari,” Obi-Wan whispered, gently squeezing your shoulder. “Wake up, my darling.” 

You lazily blinked your eyes open as you unwrapped yourself from Obi-Wan, gently stretching while you stifled a small yawn. “Where are we?” you mumbled, voice still heavy with sleep. 

“Home,” Obi-Wan smiled, pulling back the curtain to reveal a large castle around the bend, looming over a steep cliff face and surrounded by soaring pines. 

The grey stones that formed the walls were darker than the cliff the castle sat upon, veined with dark green ivy that crept high and along the ground. There were far more windows than would be expected, each filled with multicolored glass mosaics that glistened in the setting sun. 

When you passed through a great arch you were greeted by exuberant barking and looked out your window to see several dogs keeping pace with the slowing carriage. A chorus of cheers filled your ears next and you turned to see a gaggle of young children standing on the castle stairs, Anakin at their helm. 

Obi-Wan was beaming when he swung the door open, hopping down to pull Anakin into a quick embrace before offering you his hand, helping you step down from the carriage. 

"Oooh," the children sang, one giggling as he turned to his friend. "That must be King Kenobi’s girlfriend," he whispered poorly, a wave of tittering laughter rolling through the group. 

"This is Princess Ari," Obi-Wan stated, gesturing towards you as you curtsied before them. A few waved and others stared, unsure of how to respond. 

"You seem to have your hands full, your highness," you nodded towards Anakin, who pulled a face crossed between confusion and horror. 

"Oh, no no, these aren't-" he stammered, rolling his eyes as Obi-Wan laughed, guiding you up the steps without offering explanation. 

"Alright younglings, back to class," Anakin sighed, crossing his arms as the children lined up in rows in front of him, taking their preferred meditative stances. 

"I thought we might dine in my rooms tonight," Obi-Wan offered, guiding you down a wide hallway. You hummed in agreement as you took in the beauty of his castle, the multicolored reflections from the glass windows creating fractal patterns on the floors. 

"I know it's been a long day, but I have something I would like to show you first," he continued. 

"Okay," you nodded, slipping your hand to the center of his forearm, away from it's usual perch at his elbow. 

At the end of the hall he turned you right, leading you down another corridor to a large staircase, ornately decorated in the same style Dolega’s bridle had been. You climbed with him to the very top, reaching a heavy carved oak door with a golden handle. 

"This is where you're keeping me, isn't it?" you half joked, wondering if you missed a dragon on the ride in. 

"This room is yours for as long as you like to use it," he soothed, patting your hand. "Go on," he pushed, gesturing towards the door. 

You took a few tentative steps across the platform and pushed the door open, gasping as it swung open to reveal shelves piled high with books. 

Obi-Wan followed you inside, watching as you fluttered around the room, running your fingers over the books on one shelf before turning to the next. Several were in languages you didn't understand but he would be happy to teach. 

You were resting a hand on a few soft cushions studying a shelf of poetry books when he called to you, standing near a window seat lined with several soft cushions and a thick knitted blanket. 

"Unfortunately we're not close to the water but if you look at the river here and follow it out, you'll get a couple of glimpses of -" 

"The sea," you beamed, leaning against the edge of the seat to get a closer look. 

"I had Anakin change the window to clear glass so your view wouldn't be obstructed.  It's the only window in the castle you can see the ocean from," he explained, basking in the light that shone from your eyes. "You seem pleased?" 

"Your majesty I-," you turned to him, finding him with one eyebrow raised as he leaned on the wall. 

"Obi-Wan," he offered. 

"Obi-Wan, I love it," you elated, wrapping your arms around his middle as you buried your face in his chest. 

He was surprised by your action before relaxing into you, returning your hug so that the warmth of his hands could seep into your back. You inhaled against him, the lingering citrus scent mixed with cedar and mint. 

You parted at the sound of Anakin clearing his throat, rocking on his heels in the door frame. 

“Your dinner is waiting,” he announced, watching Obi-Wan smooth down his robes. 

“Thank you,” he responded, offering you his arm. You took it and began the walk down the stairs, making your way towards Obi-Wan’s chambers. 

“Will you and Padmé be eating with us tonight?” he continued. You tilted your head at the unfamiliar name, guessing that the person in question was Anakin’s wife. 

“I wanted to, but Padmé didn’t want to overwhelm Ari on her first day here,” Anakin shrugged. You were quietly thankful for her foresight, head spinning from all the new things you had seen and still had yet to explore. 

You parted ways at the end of the hall, Anakin bidding the two of you a good evening as he stepped into his rooms. You continued down the hall until you were met with a grand set of ornately carved doors on the opposite side of the hall, similar to the rest you had seen in the castle. 

Obi-Wan’s rooms were indeed fit for a king, expansive and tastefully decorated, though far more sparse than you would have expected. You noticed he had even more books behind his desk, and a small collection of curious objects on the small table between two chairs near the fire. Near the window was a round table, laden with a small feast of meats, cheeses, fruits, vegetables, and at least three different kinds of bread. 

“I didn’t know what you would be in the mood for,” Obi-Wan shrugged, pulling out your chair before rounding the table to sit on his own. 

Your conversation was pleasant, though the evening was mostly filled with nothing. You found silence with him to be oddly comfortable, content to sit in peace instead of filling the space with empty words. There was no convincing, no apology for some small slight; no need to plead for understanding. 

So you sat in this mutually understood quiet, unbothered and perhaps for the first time, unafraid of what the future might hold. 

You stifled a small yawn and he gave you a knowing look. “Tired?” he questioned, tilting his head to the side. 

“I do apologize your - Obi-Wan,” you corrected yourself. 

“No need,” he smiled, standing from his chair. “Let me take you to your rooms.” 

The walk was short; your door was on the same side of the hall as Anakin’s, just a few steps away from Obi-Wan. When you entered you were greeted with the same decorations that you found in his chambers, and you noticed that the golden silks on the bed matched his as well. He watched you walk around for a moment before you paused, your face hard to read. 

“Is everything alright?” he asked gently, knowing the first night would likely be the hardest. 

“You don’t have any guards,” you noticed, wrapping your arms around yourself. 

“There are very few, but if you will be more comfortable I can find someone to post outside,” he offered. 

“Oh! No! No, I wouldn’t want to inconvenience anyone. I will get used to the way you do things here,” you smiled, wringing your hands together as he nodded. He crossed towards you and offered his hand, smiling when you placed your palm on his. With a low bow he brought your knuckles to his lips before gently pressing them to his forehead, a gesture you were unfamiliar with but the weight of it made warmth spread throughout your body. 

“Goodnight Obi-Wan,” you hummed, pulling your hand to your elbow when he released it as he stood. 

“Goodnight Ari,” he returned. When he exited your room he pulled the door closed gently, squaring his shoulders as he placed one hand on the hilt of his sword. He stood sentinel like stone, unwavering as he seeped into the air around him, waiting for any disturbance to ripple his calm. 

You walked around your rooms for a few moments, organizing some of the things from your trunks so you could easily find them in the coming days, unable to settle in for the night. You paced the length of your room a few times before thinking a walk would do you good, only to realize upon cracking the door that you had no way of navigating the vast castle on your own. 

The door had only opened a sliver and when you closed it you pressed your head to the wood. Obi-Wan had elected to stand outside your door despite your meek protest, placing your comfort above his own. And what had you so flabbergasted was that he did it without any grandeur or announcement. He was just… there. 

After a minute or two at the door your heart had stopped racing and you found your way into bed, wrapping yourself in the cool silken sheets as you thought of him, remembering the way he smelled of cedar and how delicately he regarded you and your wellbeing.  

Obi-Wan wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he felt someone approaching, tightening his grip before realizing the man was a friend - General Plo Koon. 

“Your majesty” Plo rumbled, his stentorian voice filling the hall despite his best efforts to keep his tone low. “Are you in need of assistance?” 

“All is well,” Obi-Wan said casually, lifting his hand to push his crown back in place. “The princess Ari is not used to our ways and felt more comfortable with a guard, though she would deny it.” 

“Let me take over then,” Plo smiled, placing a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “It’s very late and young Anakin will be disappointed if you sleep through your sparring appointment.” 

“Thank you Plo,” he said, inclining his head before trading places with the general. “Goodnight my friend.” 

Plo bowed his head in return, taking up Obi-Wan’s stoic stance, waiting for the morning light. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You woke the next morning to the sound of gentle shuffling, startling up as you clutched the sheets to your chest when you realized you weren’t alone in your chambers. 

“Good morning your highness, my name is Cee Trépio. His royal majesty King Kenobi assigned me to be your attendant,” she chirped cheerily, hanging your dresses in the wardrobe. “I do apologize for waking you, but I wanted to help unpack your things so we could get you dressed -” 

“No it’s okay Cee!” you called, climbing out of bed with the sheet still wrapped around your shoulders. You stumbled as you approached her, smiling awkwardly at her patient features. “I can dress myself, I was just very tired and didn’t unpack -” 

“If you insist, your highness,” Cee smiled, her curly golden hair bouncing around her face. She was tall and slight, and her dress had been woven with a shimmering thread to match her hair. You went to dress when you noticed her still standing near, hands clasped behind her back.

“I’m sorry, do you… um, mind?” you squeaked, pulling the sheet tighter around your shoulders. 

“No at all, your highness!” she chimed, smiling at you broadly. 

You awkwardly cleared your throat before turning around, letting the sheet pool at your feet before stepping into your dress. You barely had it pulled over your shoulders when Cee grabbed the sheet from the floor, busying herself with tidying your bed. 

You went to freshen in the bathing chamber, returning to find Cee waiting with a plate of fruit in her hands. “Hungry?” she asked, offering the plate to you. 

“Thank you,” you said quietly, taking a shuura fruit and setting the bowl to the side. “Where might his majesty be this morning?” 

“He is likely in the yard with his highness, Prince Skywalker,” Cee said brightly. “Would you like to join them?” 

“I don’t want to interrupt-” you started before Cee lifted her hands and shook her head. 

“You would not be interrupting, and I’m sure Lady Padmé will be quite pleased to finally meet you! We have been hearing a lot about you since the prince returned from Aquilae,” she chattered, walking with you towards the door. 

You nodded your head as she spoke, keeping pace beside her as she strode confidently towards the edge of the castle, gliding below an archway that led outside. There was a metallic clang that only grew in intensity as you walked closer to the yard, eventually reaching a set of low steps that led onto a dirt field currently occupied by three men. 

“Oh it’s a -”

“Training yard, yes,” Cee finished for you. She sat on one of the low steps and gestured for you to join her. 

“Who is that?” you asked, inclining your head towards the group on the field. All three men were shirtless, sweat pouring off their bodies. The man in the center held short swords in each hand, fending off oncoming blows from a man with bright blonde hair and another with short cropped red. 

As he moved you noticed he was blind in his right eye, a long scar crossing his face. That, however, didn’t seem to slow him down as he moved fluidly, shouting at the other two men to give him their best. 

“That would be Commander Wolffe,” Cee sighed, a flush rising to her cheeks as she spoke his name. “His betrothed is across the way,” she mentioned, inclining her head towards a young  muscular person with short brown hair. “And the other two are his best men, they go by Sinker and Boost. They’re twins if you can believe it.”

“Isn’t it dangerous for them without their shirts?” you asked, wincing as Wolffe took a hard swing at Sinker. 

“These weapons are fully blunt, any injuries sustained are minimal,” Cee explained. She paused for a moment before looking over your head, breaking into another beaming smile. “Lady Padmé!” she exclaimed, “I’m so glad you’re here. This is her royal highness -” 

“Please, just call me Ari,” you interrupted, rising to your feet to bob a curtsy for her. 

“I’m glad to finally meet you,” she smiled, returning your gesture. “Anakin has had the best things to say about you.” 

You smiled humbly at her, distracted again by the clanging of swords. 

“Let’s move closer,” Padmé suggested, walking down a few more stairs. You sat next to her with Cee at your side, watching her hold her face in her hands as she watched the men on the field. With a loud yell you watched Wolffe slide between Sinker and Boost, holding the blunted tips of his swords to their throats. 

“We yield!” you heard them say in unison, their swords clamoring to the ground. There was light applause from around the arena, each of the men bowing before shrugging on their robes. You noticed more people were gathering at the yard as Anakin and Obi-Wan stepped onto the field, shaking hands with Wolffe, Sinker, and Boost. 

You swallowed thickly when you saw Obi-Wan discard his robes, surprised by how defined his musculature was. Padmé eagerly waved to Anakin, blowing him a kiss while your mouth went dry at the sight of Obi-Wan’s back, offering him the best smile and wave that you could. 

He gave you a knowing look as he slipped off his crown, setting it on top of his robes before stretching, flexing his back before reaching down to touch his toes. Anakin was stretching much the same way but you barely noticed, struck by Obi-Wan as he studied the rack of training weapons. 

“Quarterstaff today?” he called out, reaching for it before turning to find Anakin in the center of the field, waiting at rest. 

“I thought you’d never ask,” he smirked back. Obi-Wan walked to the center to meet Anakin and the two men bowed at the waist, a hush falling on the people that had gathered to watch. You even spotted the group of children from your arrival yesterday sitting at the corner of the steps, an unfamiliar though kind looking man next to them gesturing them to be quiet. 

Both men stepped back from each other and took a low guard stance, slowly circling and waiting for the other to strike first. When Anakin moved to strike Obi-Wan parried, going in for a counter-strike that Anakin dodged. 

You bit your lower lip as you watched them dance around each other, muscles rippling in the sun as the first beads of sweat began to form across their skin. It was easy to tell that the two were highly experienced fighters, having sparred each other so frequently that their moves almost looked planned. 

Obi-Wan spun his staff behind his back and attempted another strike, blocked by Anakin’s high guard before he flourished a counter-strike towards Obi-Wan’s head. You gasped and saw him turn towards you, throwing a wink before dodging another thrust from Anakin. 

“Don’t worry,” Padmé said gently, holding your hand as she watched Anakin tuck into a roll away from Obi-Wan. “They’ve been training together for years,” she explained. “Separate they are a force to be reckoned with but together they have a power that can’t be described.” 

You nodded as you watched them move against each other, using their opponent's momentum to form their own strike or parry. Even as Wolffe sat with his hand wrapped around that of his betrothed you could tell he was studying them, absorbing their wordless lesson. 

Their endurance was impressive as twenty-five minutes passed with no signs of a yield, each man guarding and striking, tumbling and jumping, even jesting between motions and laughing as their staves moved through the air. 

Obi-Wan hopped onto the short stone wall, pointing his staff towards Anakin. 

“I have the high ground now,” he laughed, aiming for a high strike that Anakin dodged. He then joined Obi-Wan on the wall, smiling himself as he struck low. 

“I would say we’re even again but I always have the high ground when I stand next to you,” Anakin joked and Obi-Wan shook his head, trying to stifle a heavy chuckle. After a few more flourishes they were back on the ground, chests starting to heave from effort as their skin shined in the sun. 

Obi-Wan took a back step and made a distracting motion while he spun his staff into mid strike position, breaking between Anakin’s open arms and pointing the end at Anakin’s chest. 

“I yield, master,” Anakin bowed, taking a step back from the end of Obi-Wan’s weapon. 

“An excellent match,” Obi-Wan responded, lowering his staff so that he could bow to Anakin, offering his hand in sportsmanship before Anakin pulled him into a hug. You smiled at the affection in their friendship, standing with Padmé as she applauded her husband. 

Obi-Wan stooped to gather his robe and crown before approaching you and Padmé, Anakin joining his side as they ascended the stairs. 

Padmé pulled Anakin in for a hard kiss, resting their foreheads together as they smiled. You looked to Obi-Wan and offered a shallow curtsy, smiling as he inclined his head towards you. 

“You were very impressive,” you offered, standing with your hands clasped above your stomach. 

“Thank you,” he stated, his smile warm and genuine. You watched him fumble with his belongings, reaching your hands out before pausing. 

“May I?” you asked, eyes flicking down to the heavy crown in his hands. 

“It would be an honor,” he murmured, stepping towards you before taking a knee, head bent slightly forward as he lifted his crown towards you. 

When you took it in your hands you studied it briefly, noting the ornate details that matched the orbak’s bridle and the carvings on the doors. The kyber was beautiful in its golden setting and your breath hitched slightly as you straightened it in your hands, gently placing it onto Obi-Wan’s dampened auburn locks. 

He stood when he felt the crown settle against his head, uncaring of the people surrounding you that had fallen silent again to watch the exchange. 

“Thank you,” he rumbled, inclining his head before taking your hand in his and pressing another kiss to it, looking into your eyes as he did, bringing your knuckles to the center of his forehead once more before releasing you. 

Something heavy sat at your back, pushing you closer to him as you lifted a hand to his cheek. 

“Of course, my king,” you offered, warming at the words you had spoken. You would have turned on the spot to run if his other hand hadn’t found its way behind your back, holding you firmly in place. 

He leaned closer to you as time seemed to slow and you bridged the gap, lips touching in the briefest of moments before reality came back, snapping your spine straight as you took a step back from him. Obi-Wan smiled as he pulled on his robes, offering his hand once he finished. 

You laced your fingers in his, squeezing his hand before sliding it up to your spot. You revelled in his warmth as it spread through your body, wild like a blazing fire with no chance of being quelled. 

CHAPTER FOUR - DULCIS

The stone room was gently lit by a small fire, blocked in part by Count Dooku as he hunched over an iron pot. He gave it a few stirs before adding a handful of ground herbs, inhaling as the woody, fruity scent filled the room. It was dark and seductive, rich like a red wine known to be a royal favorite. 

After a few moments of gentle simmering he lifted the pot off the fire, setting it onto the stone counter with a quiet thud. Before it had the chance to cool Dooku bent his forward and extended his palms, nearly brushing against the scalding liquid. He relaxed his shoulders as he chanted, old words filling the space as he prayed over the concoction. 

Jirai jis.

Jirai jis. 

Jirai jis. 

As he straightened he breathed deeply, his last few words silent as the liquid stilled under his command. 

General Grievous tentatively crept forward, offering a glass vial to Dooku who snatched it out of his hands. 

“It’s imperative he drinks this daily. No more than two drops with his evening wine.” Dooku concentrated on spooning the now light pink mixture into the bottle, capping it with a long dropper before handing it back to Grievous. 

“The admiral will meet you at Kruva pass on the southern border. Depart at once.” 

General Grievous wordlessly swept into a low bow, pocketing the bottle before striding out of the room. His footsteps echoed down the long hallway as he made his way to the surface, calling to a young page to ready his narglatch. 

While Grievous set off on his mission Count Dooku descended a set of spiral stairs. When he entered the obsidian throne room the knelt in deference, waiting for Emperor Palpatine’s permission to rise. 

“It’s done?” Palpatine hissed, waving Dooku forward. 

“Grievous has departed, yes. The first dose will be tomorrow,” Dooku confirmed. His voice was heavy, exhausted from the strength he exerted to build the complicated potion. 

“Rest while you can Count. Coruscant will be ripe for the taking by the time the seasons change” Palpatine smirked, eerie shadows cast over his face from the sconces on the wall. 

“And Aquilae?” Dooku wondered, thinking of all the prizes the small island kingdom held. 

“King Abigor has invited us for a feast in a few weeks time,” Palpatine chuckled, curling his hands around the armrests of his throne. “Make sure you pack for a long stay.” 

Count Dooku bowed before exiting the throne room, smiling to himself as he made his way to his chambers. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Good morning my lady!” Cee trilled excitedly, pulling your curtains to the side. 

You sat up with a start, gasping for breath at the sudden sound, your room suspiciously dark for her to be calling it morning. You had been rising with the sun to visit the library and roam the gardens but this hour was simply obscene. 

“Cee?” you questioned wearily, rubbing sleep from your eyes. “What’s going on?” 

“His royal highness has requested that you join him for a morning lesson,” Cee smiled, opening your wardrobe to thumb through your dresses. Her curls bobbed on her head as she paused on a lilac colored gown. “What about this?” 

“Lesson…” you trailed off, climbing out of bed to take the dress from Cee, scurrying behind the dressing screen before she could offer to help you change. “What lesson?” you called to her. 

“King Kenobi and Prince Skywalker instruct the younglings on meditation, and the king has requested that you join them today,” she chirped, rifling through your jewelry box to select a bracelet for you. She clapped it on your wrist when you emerged from the screen, guiding you to sit at your vanity so she could pin your hair. 

“Is all of this necessary then,” you argued, moving to stand before she pressed a firm hand into your shoulder. 

“Yes my lady,” she nodded, “I must insist." 

"Cee," you groaned, wincing as she placed another pin. "The sun hasn't even risen yet, I can't imagine the children -" 

"Come with me my lady," Cee urged, pulling you up with her hand before hastily leading you down the path towards the tower.

"Up the stairs, hurry now," she ushered, placing a firm but gentle hand between your shoulders. When you reached the landing she paused for a moment, smoothing the front of your skirts before opening the door, gesturing you inside. 

You nodded your thanks before entering, stopping at the sight of Obi-Wan draped against the window seat. 

"Good morning," he greeted with a smile, crossing the small room to take your hand in his, offering you his customary kiss to the knuckles before pressing them to his forehead. 

"Always so formal your highness," Cee remarked, leaning in the open doorway. 

King Kenobi straightened and gazed over your shoulder, looking mildly amused by her commentary. "Thank you Cee, that will be all for now." 

She shrugged and closed the door with a gentle click.  

"I notice a lack of children at this lesson, Obi-Wan," you laughed, following him to the window seat where he helped you climb up.  

"I wanted to share this with you first," he said brightly, wiggling into the space next to you before entwining his fingers with yours and placing his chin on your shoulder. 

"Share… what, exactly?" you asked, searching the dark sky for any indication of what he meant. 

"Have patience, dear one," he mumbled, rubbing small circles into the skin of your hand. 

You hummed as you settled back against him, eyes threatening to close until the break of morning started to shine at the horizon. Rays of sunlight glittered against the edges of the ocean peeking through the trees while the sky slowly blossomed into a watercolor canvas of pinks and oranges. 

"It's beautiful," you murmured, giving his hands a gentle squeeze. 

"And yet it pales in comparison to you," he whispered, placing a quick kiss on your shoulder. 

You warmed at his words and struggled out a quiet but earnest thank you, relaxing into him to watch the remainder of the sunrise. You thought he was watching too, but instead he was marveling at the golden rays reflecting in your eyes and the softness of your skin, breathing in the gentle scent of your perfume. 

"I have something for you," Obi-Wan said softly, untangling his fingers from yours. You shifted to look at him, watching him pat around his robes until he found the pocket he was searching for, pulling out a round polished piece of yellow kyber, hanging from gold so fine you would've thought it an invisible thread if it didn’t glint in the sun.

"Obi-Wan," you started, unsure of what to say as he hung it around your neck. "I -" 

He smiled, watching you run your finger across the edge of the stone. 

“Come, let’s not be late.” 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

"Ani, no!" Padmé cried, reaching out for his hand. 

He was falling, falling -

Falling backwards into a bottomless darkness; ears filled with screams. 

He tried to yell, unable to form the sound as his body was consumed by fire - 

“I loved you Anakin!” Obi-Wan screamed, his voice echoing in his head. “I loved you!”

Padmé was shaking Anakin as he thrashed on their bed, early morning light streaming in through the windows. 

“Anakin!” she shouted, grabbing a cup from the bedside table to splash water onto his face, ducking a hard swing as he came into consciousness. His breathing was labored as his eyes searched the room for the threat, finding only himself and his wife. 

“Padmé?” he croaked, turning towards her with heavy eyes. 

“It was just a nightmare,” she reassured, gently rubbing his arm. “You’re okay now. Do you want to -” 

“No,” he interrupted, firmly shaking his head. “Just a… a nightmare.” He took a deep breath before rubbing at his temples, quietly sniffling as Padmé rubbed his back. 

“I can send for someone to tell Obi-Wan you won’t be joining this morning,” Padmé offered gently. 

“The younglings are expecting me. He’s expecting me,” Anakin explained, standing from their bed. “I can’t disappoint him.”

“Anakin,” Padmé started, placing a consoling hand on Anakin’s arm. “I don’t think there’s anything you could ever do to disappoint Obi-Wan. He loves you.” 

Pain flashed in Anakin’s eyes for the briefest moment before he wrapped his fingers around hers, giving them a gentle squeeze. 

“You’re right,” he sighed, shaking his head to rid himself of the lingering images. “Help me dress?” 

“You still have some time before you’re due,” Padmé smiled, laying back against her pillows. “Why don’t you come lay down with me and I’ll tell you about my dream instead?” 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You pressed yourself against the cool stone wall, begging for it to make you invisible. For now it seemed to be working, the group of young children clambering over one another for King Kenobi’s attention. You guessed they weren’t much older than seven or so. 

“Now, now.” His voice was firm but gentle and the children began to settle, some still sitting on top of each other as they stilled to listen to him speak. 

“Today is our first lesson together, right?” 

You couldn’t help but smile at the way he lit up when he was speaking to the kids, bright and sincere. 

“It seems that Prince Skywalker is running behind today, so I’ll start by introducing you to my friend.” 

He looked up at you from where he was seated on the floor, nodding you over with his head. You were about to protest but thought it unwise to argue with the king in front of a group of impressionable children. 

“Hi,” you waved meekly, sitting on the ground next to Obi-Wan. You mirrored his position, crossing your legs over each other, waiting for him to continue. 

“Before we begin, does everyone have their channel?” 

There was a small chorus of yeses as the younglings fished through their various pockets and places of safe-keeping to produce kyber crystals of all different sizes and shapes, holding them proudly in their palms. You touched the polished piece at your neck, wondering if it was more than just a simple gift. 

“And why do we need a channel?” Obi-Wan questioned, searching their eager little faces for someone that knew the answer. It seemed, however, that excitement had gotten the best of them and they all exchanged looks of uncertainty. 

“Very well,” Obi-Wan smiled, pulling his crown off his head. “We have a channel -” 

“Because without it, we could not perform the art of qyasik. Qyasik ties all things together, and so we must be connected to our own channel to manipulate it,” Anakin finished from the back of the room. 

The children murmured and shifted where they sat, watching Anakin stride over to sit on Obi-Wan’s other side. “I do apologize my lord,” he offered, sheepishly smiling at Obi-Wan’s knowing grin. 

“Prince Skywalker is correct. Let’s have you all spread out in a circle, with us in the middle, okay?” 

Before you could blink the younglings had rearranged themselves, eager to start their lesson. 

Obi-Wan leaned over to whisper in your ear. “You can follow along if you like Ari, you may surprise yourself.” 

You smiled politely at him, quietly listening to their lesson. 

“Find a comfortable position, whatever feels natural,” Anakin instructed, shifting to take a very similar position to the one Obi-Wan was seated in. 

“And hold your channel close to you,” Obi-Wan continued, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. 

You watched the children move around, some kneeling, some sitting, one even laying on her back as she held her crystal to her forehead. The air shifted, making your hair stand on end as an inexplicable calmness flowed from Obi-Wan while Anakin continued to speak gently. 

“What do we say to strengthen our connection?” he asked. 

“Qyasik nayir vestiki,” the young girl offered as she sat up, and Anakin nodded his head. 

“Very good little ‘Soka,” Anakin said proudly. She beamed at him before closing her eyes once more, holding her kyber to her head as she laid back down. 

You closed your eyes as you listened to them all chant, feeling a pull to come along. Tentatively you raised a hand to your chest, holding the kyber between your fingers. 

"Qyasik nayir vestiki," you whispered, adding your own voice to the melody around you. Something pulled on you harder, and you whispered it again, sinking into an odd sense of familiarity despite the foreign words on your tongue. 

You relaxed, giving in to the tug, whispering the holy words as your hand warmed. There was a gentle breeze and you lowered your hand, feeling weightless yet anchored to everyone around you but especially - 

"Obi-Wan?" you murmured quietly, slowly opening your eyes to find all of the children staring at you with Obi-Wan’s hand wrapped around yours. 

"Well done," he smiled as Anakin gathered his jaw from the floor, quickly offering his own congratulations. 

"I don't understand," you started, concern growing in your chest despite their praise. "What did I do?" 

The children shared a few small giggles before Anakin cleared his throat, sending them all back into their meditative poses. 

"You allowed yourself to connect to qyasik, the force that flows through you and all things around you. This is the first step in learning to manipulate it." 

You sat back from him and stared at your hands, dumbfounded. Your whole life you had been told that the old religion was dead, that anyone still practicing was a liar or a con. But yet here you were, surrounded by it, able to connect to it. 

"If you'd like I can teach you -" 

"Yes," you responded quickly, cringing at how eager you sounded. "Yes,” you started again, quieter this time. “I would like that very much." 

A tall, bald man with dark skin entered at the back of the room and nodded towards Obi-Wan. You recognized him as the man that had brought the younglings to watch Obi-Wan and Anakin spar.

"Very well my darling, but I'm due to take grievances in the throne room," he sighed,  offering his hand to help you from the floor from where he stood. "We'll continue after dinner." 

You thanked him as you made your way to the door, offering a polite curtsy to the man Obi-Wan introduced as Mace Windu, an advisor on his council. 

"Do you all instruct the children?" you wondered, closing the door behind you. 

"We're all deeply invested in them as they are our future," he said fondly, waving at a group of older students as they walked by. 

You arrived in front of the great carved doors of the throne room, finding them propped open to reveal his golden seat atop a simple dias. 

"Let me not keep you any longer," you smiled, offering him your hand. He brought it to his lips and forehead before sweeping into the room, welcoming those that had already begun to gather for their audience. 

You briefly thought about staying to observe but the morning meditation had you so curious that you made your way to the tower library instead, settling into your window bench with a large tome and a cup of tea, determined to learn something while he worked. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Your brows furrowed as you read over a theory passage for the fourth time, understanding each of the words used but unable to make sense of the phrases as a whole. A knock had you lifting your eyes with a sigh, calling for your visitor to enter. You had expected the caller to be Cee but were happily surprised to find Padmé entering the room. 

“I thought I might find you up here,” she smiled, walking past the burdened shelves. “Anakin told me about your lesson.” 

“Ah yes it was… quite exciting. I wanted to learn a bit more but this text is heavy,” you joked, lifting the large volume up and setting it down with a heavy thud. 

Padmé’s laugh was light and genuine. “The books are great for theory but if you want to really learn, you have to practice.” 

“King Kenobi said we would try more after dinner,” you said proudly, swinging your legs to sit at the edge of your seat. 

“I was going to the yard if you’d like to join me,” Padmé offered. “I’m not as skilled a teacher but practical application is far better than reading some stodgy old book.” 

You happily joined her side and left the tower, making your way to the training yard once more. 

“I’m guessing your channel is your necklace,” Padmé questioned, grinning as you instinctively lifted your hand to where it rested. 

“I guess so,” you shrugged, hopping down the steps and realizing how ridiculous you must look in your lilac gown entering the training yard. 

“Mine is my dagger,” Padmé said, pulling it from the small ornate white scabbard at her waist. The white kyber at the end was faceted, delicately catching the light. “Most of us have one or two, and it’s normally integrated with a weapon.” 

You hummed as you watched her hurl it through the air, a loud thunk echoing through the space as the blade drove itself into the wooden target. 

“Have you much weaponry experience?” she asked, tilting her head to the side. 

You bit your lip for a moment before shaking your head no. “My parents didn’t think it was very becoming, so I had vibrano lessons instead.” 

Padmé looked at you in shock before realizing you were serious. “That certainly won’t do,” she asserted, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the racks of blunted practice weapons. “Go ahead,” she urged, gesturing to the assortment before you, “pick what calls to you.” 

“I really don’t think a weapon is going to -” you started, catching her side-eye as you remembered Prince Skywalker’s words from the lesson. You carefully looked over battle axes and long swords, overthinking each until you stilled yourself and closed your eyes. 

After a few moments you opened an eye, peering at Padmé as she watched you. “This isn’t working,” you mumbled, closing it again when she tutted. 

“Relax,” she guided you. “Listen.” 

You rolled on your feet before settling again, placing the tip of your finger on your necklace. After a moment you felt a familiar tug, and you slowly opened your eyes before turning and taking a simple short sword into your hand. 

“Easy enough,” Padmé grinned, taking another and heading to the center of the yard. “Come on,” she called. 

“There are several ways to meditate and find your connection. With enough practice, it will come naturally,” she continued, setting her sword down briefly to adjust the grip you had on yours. “But you must be able to defend yourself.” 

You mimicked the stance she took and slowly followed her through several basic cadences. In a short time your arms grew tired from the weight and you started to falter. 

“Ignore your body,” she encouraged and you scoffed at the thought. 

“You don’t need to think about where you are. Only where you want to go.” 

You nodded as you breathed in deeply, becoming more comfortable in the basic movements. 

Determined, you pushed through the ache in your back and shoulders, feeling the air shift around you as Padmé sunk further into her meditation, calling you to join her. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You were buzzing as you dressed for dinner, excited to see Obi-Wan and to spend more time with Padmé and Anakin. Cee guided you through the castle to a small dining room, smiling as she pulled open the door for you. 

When you walked in Obi-Wan stood from his chair, pulling yours out beside him. 

“I heard you had quite the day,” he smiled, pouring you a glass of wine. 

“Well Padmé found me in the library and drew me out, she is an excellent teacher.” You raised a glass to her and were met with three others, taking a small sip as bowls of clear broth were placed on the table. 

“It’s only because I had an excellent teacher myself,” she laughed, pausing when Anakin grimaced next to her, slowly turning his cup in his hands.  

“Are you okay?” she asked, turning to him. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he mumbled, rubbing underneath his lip. “I think I bit myself is all.” 

Obi-Wan’s brow furrowed, studying him for a moment. “You’re certain?” 

“Of course,” Anakin confirmed, picking up his spoon to stir his soup. “So tell me Ari, did Padmé hit a target today?” 

She scoffed and you stifled a giggle as Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. “Her aim with her dagger is impressive,” you complimented. “I felt drawn to the short sword there and she guided me through several cadences.” 

You were proud of your accomplishments and Obi-Wan was happy to hear the joy in your voice. As the meal continued the conversation slowly shifted to politics and you exchanged a tired look with Padmé. 

“Despite being nearly bored to tears by a case over some rogue chickens, I do have some good news,” Obi-Wan stated, tearing into a loaf of bread before handing it off to you. 

“The court barrister has been working on the first draft of the marriage contract, it will be ready for your review soon and we can send it off to your parents.” 

You paused, your time on Coruscant had been so enjoyable you nearly forgot that little detail. 

“I suppose that means we’ll have to begin making formal preparations,” you grinned, tossing the bread across the table to Anakin who mocked Obi-Wan’s mild disapproving look. 

“Anything you wish, just say the word,” he said gently. His smile was so pure you knew you could make a home in him, feeling more at ease in Coruscant over the course of a week and a half than you had ever felt in Aquilae. 

“Honestly I would most like my shoulders to stop aching,” you mumbled under your breath, stabbing at the roasted vegetables Obi-Wan had heaped onto your plate. 

Nonetheless you smiled as you chewed, listening to Padmé share the details of her wedding to Anakin a few seasons ago. You nearly dropped your fork as she gasped, struck by a sudden realization. 

“Your gown!” she exclaimed, leaning forward in her seat. “Tomorrow we’ll call the dressmaker in. You must look flawless.” 

“I’m sure she will,” Anakin laughed, wrapping his hand around hers as she continued on in her animated way. 

“Maybe we’ll wed at the turn of the season?” you suggested. Obi-Wan nodded in agreement and Padmé happily clapped her hands, joyfully describing the way the trees would be ablaze with color. 

When the meal finally ended Obi-Wan stood to pull out your chair and the two of you lazily trailed behind Padmé and Anakin, stopping at an open window to take in the cool breeze and twin moons. 

“If you’d like to join me in my rooms I can help ease your backache,” Obi-Wan mentioned casually, curling his pinky finger around yours as you leaned against the open window. 

“You heard that,” you laughed. 

“You’re not as quiet as you think my dear, I believe that the stable hands heard you as well,” he joked. 

You moved to pull a face at him and he joined your laughter. 

“Come then,” he started, pulling on your hand. 

When you reached his room he gestured to his bed, pausing to unlace his boots by the door. The golden silks matched yours, and as you climbed into the expanse you found yourself softening at that cedar mint scent you had come to know as his own. 

“It’s me,” he rumbled, leaning against the edge of the bed. “I’m just taking your shoes off.” 

You warmed at his touch as he gently rolled the hem of your skirts, removing your shoes before carefully setting them on the ground. 

“Relax my dear,” he asked, the heat of his palms spreading into your back. You groaned as he rubbed against your skin, melting against his fingertips. As he rubbed against your sore muscles you felt the pain begin to dissipate, melting into the soft expanse of his bed.  

You made several appreciative noises as his fingertips traced down your spine, pausing to rub away stress you didn’t even know you carried. His breath was warm at your shoulder as he enveloped you, hands firm against your muscles. 

Your breath hitched when he placed a gentle kiss on your exposed shoulder, the whiskers of his beard tickling the sliver of skin he had managed to locate as he worked over you. With every whimper and groan he exhaled, soothing away your pains. 

He asked how you were feeling when your breathing began to slow, lids fluttering against your arm. 

You turned your head to face him, eyes heavy and cheeks warm with bliss. “Much better, thank you.” You began to roll on your side and he left an arm languidly draped around you, rubbing his palm up and down your ribs. 

“It’s lonely up here,” you whispered, and he quickly stood to join you, crossing his legs as he leaned against his pillows. When he opened his arm you snuggled against him, basking in the tender touches he placed along your back. 

“You never told me about your nickname,” he murmured, shuffling down to let you rest your head on his shoulder. 

“I’ll tell you if you tell me what this means,” you chided, poking the tattoo peaking out of his robes near his clavicle. 

He chuckled, adjusting again to face you a little more. “It’s the old language, but it means strength.” 

You hummed as you settled against him. “My nickname came from my grandfather. Ari is a shortened word he used to call me, but I never knew what it meant.” 

“What was the word?” he continued, eyes fluttering as he relaxed with you. 

“Ardyti,” you offered, gently shrugging your shoulders. 

His eyes snapped open as he studied your face. “Ardyti?” he asked, and you nodded in confirmation. 

He laughed for a moment before resting his forehead against yours. 

“My sweetness,” he beamed, tracing your jaw with his thumb. “That’s the old language too.” 

“What does it mean?” you breathed, unsure if you truly wanted an answer. 

He smiled as he looked at you, his hand curled under your chin. 

“Destroyer.” 

CHAPTER FIVE - AESTUS 

Anakin sat upright in bed, his head and chest pounding. He rubbed at his temples before glancing over to Padmé, relieved that she hadn’t woken when he startled. Restless and unable to figure out why, Anakin pulled on a thin robe and his linen pants before shuffling out of their rooms, setting out on an aimless walk around the castle. 

He was rounding a corner when he caught the sound of his name, grabbing at the small dagger in his pocket as he struggled to reach into the darkness, mind heavy and clouded.  

"I apologize for frightening you," Admiral Tarkin said gruffly, shadows bouncing across his long nose and illuminating his greying hair as he extended his open palms in a gesture of peace. 

"That's okay Admiral," Anakin said slowly, straightening himself at the shoulders. "It's awfully late, what are you doing out here?" 

"I could ask you the same question,  your highness," he offered, bending his head in a subtle bow. "But since we're both here, why don't we walk together?" 

Anakin nodded and fell into an easy stride with the Admiral, their footsteps quietly echoing along the wide stone corridor. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” Tarkin pressed, head turned slightly to watch Anakin purse his lips at the question. 

“Haven’t been sleeping well lately.” 

Anakin was wringing his hands together as he shuffled along, looking distracted and unsure of his destination. 

“That’s quite unfortunate your highness. Have you been suffering with this for long?” 

Anakin let out a gentle sigh as he thought. “It’s been a few weeks,” he mumbled, stopping near a large window. 

The twin moons were full, bathing the stained glass in light that stained the hallway brilliant red. 

“A few weeks,” Tarkin wondered, running his hand along his chin. “About the time the princess arrived?” 

“Actually… yes,” Anakin confirmed, dropping his arms briefly before wrapping one around himself, holding onto his elbow. “But I don’t think her arrival has anything to do with -,” he started, a joke dying in his throat as Tarkin gave him a bored look, words failing to form the way he wanted them to. 

“It must be hard,” Tarkin said quietly, resting his hand on Anakin’s shoulder. “Things will change once they’re married.” 

“I don’t -” Anakin started, stammering into silence as Tarkin pressed on. 

“He spends too much time thinking about her, with her. I fear the kingdom will suffer due to his distraction.” 

Anakin raised a hand to protest, only to lower it as his eyes glazed over. 

“Do you think he’ll have any time for you or anyone on his council? He’s wrapped around her fingers, surely you see that. She’s going to destroy him. Destroy Coruscant and all we’ve built. Aquilae has always longed for more power, and now they’re going to steal everything away, right underneath our noses.” 

His nostrils flared as he spoke angrily, a sly grin spreading across his face as he looked into Anakin’s eyes, catching the faintest aurous flecks at the edges of his irises, sparkling in the moonlight. 

He leaned closer, whispering into Anakin’s ear. “But you can stop her, Anakin. You can save Obi-Wan.”

“I can?” Anakin mumbled, beginning to sway where he stood. 

“You can. You must save Coruscant.” 

“Save Coruscant,” Anakin whispered, taking a shaky step forward. “Save Obi-Wan.” 

“Let’s get you back to your rooms, your highness,” Tarkin offered, hooking his arm under Anakin’s to support some of his weight. “You seem exhausted.” 

Once in front of the door, Tarkin swung it open and shoved Anakin inside, quickly closing it before making his way back to his own quarters. 

Anakin walked heavily to his bed, dropping his robe to the ground before wrapping himself around Padmé, settling into the pillow with her tucked under his chin. 

When day broke he woke up slowly, finding Padmé’s side of the bed empty. He sat up and was surprised to find himself wearing his linen pants, shrugging it off to getting cold during the night. Quietly he climbed out of bed and began to get ready for the day,  the remnants of an odd dream pushed to the recesses of his mind. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Good morning Ari!” Padmé sang, pulling back the heavy curtains as you rolled over in your bed. 

Still heavy with sleep you started to sit up, memories of the previous night flooding your skin with an embarrassed heat. 

“Cee, I’m so sorry about last night I -” you started, stopping when you felt Padmé hop onto your bed to rub your upper arms. 

“Cee is out at the markets,” Padmé smiled. “What are you apologizing for?” she cocked her head to the side, laughing as your eyes widened with sudden wakefulness. 

“Nothing! It was nothing,” you stammered. “Nothing at all, just a little embarrassing thing, nothing really.” 

You clambered out of bed wrapped in your sheet while you searched for the night shift you hadn’t bothered to put on. 

“What, did she walk in on you and King Kenobi?” she laughed, stilling for a moment as you stood upright, suddenly rigid. 

“She did didn’t she?” Padmé exclaimed, scrambling to stand in front of you as you pulled the thin straps of the dress over your shoulders. 

“We weren’t doing anything!” 

You took one look at the way she had her arms crossed and the look on her face before letting out an exaggerated sigh. 

“My back hurt,” you explained. “So he was giving me a lovely massage, and his bed was quite comfortable so we were having a cuddle and then Cee burst in because I wasn’t in my rooms.” 

“Maker above,” Padmé laughed, gently shaking her head before pulling you into a hug. 

“What brings you in so early?” you wondered, squinting in the early morning rays. 

“I told you, I was having the dressmaker come in first thing this morning so we can work on your wedding gown,” she smiled, glancing to the door when a knock echoed through your room. 

“And that must be him now!” 

Your jaw dropped when the dressmaker flounced in, a troop of people following after, carrying several trunks and a large wooden block. 

“I’m so glad to finally make your acquaintance your highness,” the tall, slender man said with an accent foreign to your ears, kissing you on each cheek before shuffling you onto the pedestal. 

He walked a slow circle around you, studying your body in a way that had you crossing your arms over your chest. 

He stopped in front of you to pull your arms down before leaning against one of the trunks. “My name is Hondo, Hondo Ohnaka. I’ve been dressing King Kenobi and his court for years. We are the best of friends.” 

You nodded as you watched two of his helpers begin to open the trunks, fabrics of every color and texture piled high inside.  

“I brought several samples in the traditional Aquilean blue.” 

He dropped them back into the trunk when he saw you wrinkle your nose at his suggestion. 

“Not a fan of your home’s traditions? Please, I do love gossip,” he grinned, throwing his long braids over his shoulder. “The stories I could tell, so many of them true.” 

You chuckled at that, watching Padmé rifle through the trunk nearest to her. “You had a piece of fabric when I got married last year,” she called over to him, thumbing through several purples before dropping them back into the drunk. 

“Darling I had dozens of fabrics last year, you’ll have to be more specific,” Hondo said with a click of his tongue, perching on the edge of the now open trunk. 

“What are your thoughts?” 

You hummed for a moment before describing your ideal outfit, watching him nod as he stroked his dark beard. He started to pull out several yards of scratchy white fabric, draping and pinning it against you while Padmé continued her hunt. 

After several hours of draping, pinning, redraping, and setting, you were finally satisfied with the way the dress hugged your body, accentuating your favorite features. 

“What about this one?” the young man named Jiro tiredly asked, holding out a pale pink fabric with a delicate stripe pattern. You shook your head and he sighed, diving back into the pile of fabrics to find something you hadn’t turned down. 

“Lunch is here!” Cee cheerfully called from your doorway, rolling in a cart with enough food to feed a small army. 

“Look at you,” she beamed, walking towards where you stood. “Oh! This is quite pretty.”

She paused near an open trunk, reaching deep inside to pull out a delicate gold lace. 

“That’s it!” Padmé cheered, leaping over to Cee to open the fabric further, calling Hondo’s attention away from the apple he was about to enjoy. 

“If you had said ‘Hondo, do you still have the hand made Rhinnalian bobbin lace’ I would have said yes,” he said with a heavy eye roll, draping the fabric over your shoulders. 

You nervously picked up the fabric, your skin clearly visible through it. 

“Hold your thoughts for one moment.” 

Waving one spindly finger in the air before spinning on his heel, Hondo grabbed a yard of black shimmersilk. He plucked the lace from your shoulder and spread the delicate fabric over the silk before laying it over you once more. 

“What do you think of that, princess?” 

Cee was nodding her head rapidly, her short curls bouncing almost comically while Padmé beamed at you, tears threatening to spill onto her cheeks. You slowly turned to look at yourself in the large mirror, breath quickly leaving your lungs. 

“Oh.” 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“I heard you’ve selected your wedding outfit,” Obi-Wan smiled at you from across the table, pouring wine into everyone’s goblets. 

“I did,” you nodded, taking a small sip before looking over at Anakin, finding him glowering at his glass. 

“Are you alright Ani?” 

His eyes snapped up to meet yours, his jaw set in a tight line. He looked like he was about to yell before heavily blinking his eyes with a subtle shake of his head.  

“Yes, I just didn’t sleep well last night,” he grumbled. 

“Where were you all day?” Padmé asked sincerely, reaching across the table for his fingers. She frowned slightly when he pulled his hand into his lap, losing himself in thought. 

He wracked his mind, searching for an answer to Padmé’s simple question. Where have I been all day? 

Obi-Wan placed a gentle hand on Anakin’s shoulder, quietly saying his name and snapping him out of his trance. 

“I was with the pack, doing some training. You know how stubborn Artoo can be sometimes,” Anakin lied, placing his napkin in his lap. 

“I do.” Obi-Wan’s eyes narrowed while he watched Anakin fiddle with his spoon. 

“I want them in tip-top shape for the celebratory wedding hunt,” he continued, more confidently this time around. 

You shared a look with Obi-Wan, humming your agreement when Padmé suggested everyone retire early after supper. 

“That’s probably best,” Obi-Wan conceded. “Make sure he rests.” 

Padmé nodded and Anakin gave a weak smile, dipping his spoon back into his soup. 

“As for you, the barrister gave me the marriage contract if you’d like to review it before we send it to Aquilae.” 

Anakin choked on his soup, muttering about the temperature of it while casually ignoring the way Padmé pursed her lips and Obi-Wan furrowed his brows. 

Padmé finally broke the uncomfortable silence, offering to send Cee to Aquilae in your stead while you hid your face in your hands, Obi-Wan’s gentle rumbling laughter filling the room as Anakin reached to his calf, adjusting the placement of the dagger in his boot. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Hidden under the cloak of night, Emperor Palpatine and Count Dooku boarded a small Coruscanti sailing ship, pirated by one of their loyal captains. No one would suspect they were aboard, and no one would question its presence in the Aquilean docks with the increased trade and travel thanks to the upcoming wedding. 

Standing on the upper deck, Palpatine lowered his dark hood, wrinkling his nose in displeasure at the scent of the ocean. 

“Grievous is clear on the plan?” he grumbled to Dooku, who nodded in confirmation. 

They would land in a few hours time and from there all of their schemes would rapidly come to fruition. Once the tsis leaders seized control of Aquilae and Coruscant, there would be no powers strong enough to stop them from achieving planetary dominion. 

Smiling to himself, Palpatine silently thanked young Skywalker. The prince was proving to be most useful in keeping Tarkin updated on Kenobi's whereabouts, setting things in motion for their grand take over and when his usefulness was exhausted, he would rot in a pit with the rest of the Coruscanti court and council. 

“Good,” Palpatine chuckled, gripping the rails tightly before barking out a short laugh. “Good! And Abigor and Mara?” 

“They suspect nothing,” Dooku smiled. 

“Keep them that way.” 

Palpatine turned from the edge of the deck and descended into his chambers to rest before docking at the foreign port.  

Once they stepped onto Aquilean soil, Palpatine took a deep breath, smirking at Dooku from under his hood. They could feel the power of the kyber deep below the surface, raw and untapped, begging to be taken. To be used by someone that understood the value of the great reserves, not the magicless royals that sat on the throne now. 

Dooku and Palpatine sat in silence as they travelled to the castle, sharing their thoughts through a single qyasik connection. They were mutually unimpressed by Abigor’s castle, but politely strode behind the king and his wife as Dooku made a mental map of the place, noting easy entry points and areas of weakness to reinforce later. 

With a simple goodnight they each entered their rooms, preparing to rest for the coming days. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“So what do you think, Ari?” Obi-Wan asked from where he hovered over your shoulder, anxiously pacing behind you as you examined the marriage contract on his desk. 

“These terms are very fair,” you commented, scanning the final lines. “Just as you promised. Our people will mutually benefit from the union, though I’ll have to find a regent in my absence once I take over the rule of Aquilae.” 

“Perhaps,” he murmured, leaning against the edge of his desk. “Rule here is different from what you’re used to. Once Anakin is ready he’ll take the throne and train his own successor. We’re closer in age than most but… once Anakin rules Coruscant, we could go back Aquilae.” 

“We have plenty of time to figure that out… I have no suggestions and happily accept these terms.” You smiled up at him before sighing. 

“Assuming my father also agrees and signs the damn thing.” 

“I hope you don’t take this offensively, but they seemed quite eager to give you away,” Obi-Wan chuckled and you joined him, knowing that he was right. 

“I have another gift for you.” 

He rounded the desk to pull you to your feet before guiding you to the balcony with his hand at the small of your back. You leaned against the railing, taking in the sweeping trees bright under the moons and stars. When he placed a tentative hand on your hip you turned to him, smiling as you straightened the crown in his hair. 

He caught your hand when you pulled it away and gave it a gentle squeeze before sliding an intricate gold band onto your finger, studded with small pieces of kyber in your favorite color. 

“Obi,” you started, looking at your hand before he brought it to his lips, kissing each of your fingers before pressing your knuckles to his forehead. 

You slowly trailed your hand down his cheek before leaning in to kiss him, wrapping your arms behind him as he brought a hand to the back of your neck, parting your lips with his tongue. You pressed yourself into him and sighed into his mouth, chasing his lips when he pulled away. 

With a raised brow he tilted his head to the side and you nodded with your own cheeky grin, laughing as he pulled you back through the balcony doors before kissing your temple. 

“You’re sure?” he asked gently, running his thumb just below your lower lip. 

“Absolutely,” you breathed, leaning forward to brush your lips against his own. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Padmé woke in a panic, glancing next to her to find Anakin missing and his sheets cold. 

Concerned, she climbed out of bed and walked to their bath chamber, splashing water on her face and pulling on her shift before pacing the space between the bed and door, debating about leaving to search him out. 

She jumped when the door swung open and Anakin stumbled in, grumbling and rubbing at the back of his head. 

“Ani,” she exclaimed, reaching for his hands. “Where have you been?” 

He responded with a noncommittal grunt, wrapping her in his arms as he swayed back and forth. He shushed her and ran his hand down her hair, making his way back to their bed. He fell asleep pressed against her back while she stayed awake, mind racing with possibilities. When dawn finally broke she turned to face him, gently shaking his shoulder. 

“Ani, where did you go last night?” 

“What are you talking about Padmé? I was here the whole time,” he smiled, leaning down to kiss her. As he did she noticed an unfamiliar glint of gold in his eyes, fear making her veins run cold. When he left to ready himself for the day Padmé shrugged on her robe, tears falling down her cheeks as she rushed down the hallway. She slid to a stop in front of Obi-Wan’s door, rapidly knocking while glancing up and down the corridor. 

He sat up next to you, pulling the sheets over your chest before slipping out of bed. After placing a gentle kiss to your cheek he dressed in his pants and tunic before quietly opening the door, lips parting in surprise when he found Padmé standing there. He quickly motioned her inside, offering her one of the chairs at the small table. 

“Obi-Wan,” Padmé sniffled, drying her anxious tears from her skin with the back of her sleeve. 

“Something is wrong with Anakin.” 

CHAPTER SIX - PROELIUM

“Something is wrong with Anakin.” 

You roused at the sound of Padmé’s distress, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand. 

“What’s going on?” 

Your voice creaked from the early morning hour, scratchy from spending the night talking with Obi-Wan. You had fallen asleep next to him and now you sat up slowly, pulling his thin sheet around yourself as you climbed from the bed. 

“We’re about to figure that out my darling,” Obi-wan soothed, crossing the room to offer you a fresh robe from his armoire, holding it open to let you slide it over your shoulders before tying it around your waist. 

Your fingers grazed his elbow as you walked beside him before pulling a chair close to Padmé, taking her hand in yours. 

“There’s something wrong with Ani,” she repeated quietly, tears welling in her eyes once more. 

“What happened?” 

Obi-Wan rubbed her shoulder as you asked, sending waves of calm through the room as he did. 

“I woke up and he was gone and I was going to leave to find him but then he came back and we went to bed. When he woke up I asked him where he went and he didn’t remember leaving.” 

You gently squeezed her hand while Obi-Wan hummed his understanding. 

“And his eyes,” she continued, sniffling as she wiped her own. “They weren’t right. I have no idea what’s going on.” 

She began to cry in earnest and you pulled her into a hug, gently smoothing down the back of her hair. 

Obi-Wan stroked his beard between forefinger and thumb, closing his eyes as he thought. 

“Padmé, perhaps you and Ari will study in the tower today? I will find Anakin and see if we can get this sorted.” 

“I can levitate things now,” you joked, squeezing her to your chest. 

She offered a weak smile as she pulled away from you, nodding her head in agreement. 

“Sorry to ruin your morning.” 

“I won’t hear a word of it Padmé. Besides, his majesty was likely already awake. You know the seniors like to rise with birds.” 

Obi-Wan’s snort pushed you and Padmé into a fit of giggles as you grasped her hand and pulled her towards the door, pausing to throw a cheeky kiss over your shoulder. You found Obi-Wan shaking his head, lips turned up in a lascivious grin as he slowly lifted his shirt over his head, making a small show of readying himself for the day.

You almost walked into the doorframe when Padmé tugged at your arm, chewing your lip with a stifled laugh when she looked at you with a knowing smile while you walked back to your rooms. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Across the channel Palpatine and Count Dooku were taking an early morning stroll around the castle gardens, a slight chill prickling their skin from the northern breeze. 

They were engaged in conversation when Thomas quietly approached, offering the pair a polite bow. 

“Breakfast will be served in a few minutes my lords.” 

Palpatine looked the young man up and down and scowled from under his crown. Dooku dismissed him with a wave of his hand, scoffing when he retreated back to the castle. 

“Staffing will be among the first things to be addressed,” Palpatine grumbled. The pair slowly made their way back to the castle, entering the open dining room to find Abigor and Mara seated at the long table, waiting for their company. 

Thomas pulled a chair out for the emperor to ease himself into, catching a heated glare from the count before he turned his attention to the king and queen. 

“I see the princess is a late sleeper,” he baited with a smile, knowing full well that you were tucked away in Coruscant. 

“Yes, well, there has been a small set-back,” your father offered, signaling to one of the maids to scoop eggs onto his plate. 

“She’s in Coruscant -” 

“Betrothed to Kenobi,” Dooku glowered. 

Mara sent Abigor a cautious look - they hadn’t mentioned that to them. It was unsurprising that news of the happy announcement would reach the shores of Ziost, just that it would get there so quickly with Ziost’s limited trade. 

Abigor cleared his throat before pressing on. 

“There’s no contract as of yet. We told her that our barrister was taking leave when he’s actually been working on a contract with our terms. I’m certain she’ll accompany the Coruscanti barrister here when they complete their documents and when she does, we’ll send her off with you.” 

A crash rang through the hall from Malkyn dropping a platter of fruits to the floor. All four sets of eyes turned towards her as Thomas rushed to her aid, helping her pile the fruits back onto the tray and ushering her out the door. 

“Hard to find good help these days, you may want to find a suitable handmaid for our daughter and replace that one,” Mara snarked. 

Palpatine murmured something unintelligible as he sipped from his glass and Dooku furrowed his brows, sending a hard look down the table to the king and queen.

“Don’t disappoint me again.” 

Palpatine’s eyes flashed when Mara shifted uncomfortably in her chair, swallowing her comment when her husband knocked against her foot under the table. 

“Why do you want to destroy Coruscant?” Palpatine questioned, ignoring the plate of food in front of him in favor of his goblet, filled with an acrid liquid that Dooku had poured from a flask concealed within his robes. 

The crepitation in his voice betrayed his age, and Abigor flashed Mara an almost amused smirk. 

“Well, your majesty, Aquilae's kyber has been bound to Coruscant for a century. Kenobi wouldn’t put an end to the agreement, and we have much to gain from a more global trade and a bit more land.” 

Palpatine smiled broadly now, bearing his teeth like a rabid loth-cat. 

“Wasn’t that a blood pact?” 

“It was, but the old ways are long dead. It’s time to move into the future.” 

Palpatine and Dooku shared a laugh with Abigor and Mara, but where the king and queen of Aquilae were laughing in excitement, the tsis lords were laughing at their stupidity. 

They had no idea what they were housing under their own roof, and Dooku couldn’t wait to prove just how wrong they were. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You and Padmé had made your way to the tower library and you were now pulling various books off the shelves. You set your stack on the desk and began to focus on them, whispering your quiet words as the books began to float. 

“It seems like Obi-Wan has taught you well,” she smiled before gasping, grabbing your hand with her own. Your concentration broke and the books came clattering down. 

“He finally gave it to you.” 

She was turning the band on your finger as she held your hand up to her eyes, finally noticing Obi-Wan’s gift from the night before. The kyber sparkled in the morning light and you smiled broadly in response to her enthusiasm. 

“Why study when we have a wedding to plan!” 

You laughed as she shoved your books to the side, pulling out a roll of parchment before inking a slender quill. 

The two of you talked for hours as she asked you about your favorite colors, the flowers you liked, the way you wanted your hair styled and the music that you hoped to hear played. You even found yourself able to settle into the force around you, feeling a steady thrum of connection flowing between your bodies. 

As the day wore on you found yourself able to lift and move things about the room while still being engaged in conversation, much to Padmé’s delight. 

“Is this a good thing?” you laughed, sending a smaller book back to its place on the shelf. 

“Of course. It means your connection is strengthening and becoming second nature. Soon the old magic will flow through you as it does all of us. Just stay open to it.” 

You nodded before she jumped onto another question, jotting down your answers on what had to be her third piece of parchment. 

There was a brief moment of silence when you sat back against the window seat, glancing up at the sun in the sky. 

“Padmé, I know Obi-Wan said to stay up here… but you have so many flowers that we don’t have on Aquilae. Might we visit the gardens so I can see some of the flowers you’re talking about?” 

She quickly agreed and hooked her arm through yours, walking with you out of the room and down the stairs. 

On the way to the gardens the glint of a familiar crooked crown caught your eye, causing you to pause mid-stride. 

“Your majesty,” you said politely, offering Obi-Wan a delicate curtsy. 

“Ladies,” he said with a bow at the waist, his normally cheerful expression dulled. 

“Any luck with finding Anakin?” 

“Unfortunately no. I searched for him all morning, he wasn’t in lessons with the younglings and no one has seen him in the yard. I have a council meeting now and must take callers in the throne room after, but I sent Artoo to look for him.” 

You and Padmé nodded before she explained that you both were headed to the gardens, selecting colors and flowers for the wedding. 

“Very well,” he smiled, bringing a soft hand to your cheek. “Have fun.” 

You placed a featherlight kiss to his thumb before parting ways, feeling his eyes linger on your back as Padmé brought you down the hall. 

She guided you through the winding paths of the gardens, pointing out several flowers that would still be in bloom in a few weeks. You were stooped over a small patch of plom blooms, taking in their dark scarlet color when you heard Padmé run off, standing quickly to find her waving down Anakin. You cautiously trailed behind her, not wanting to encroach on their space. 

“Are you going somewhere Ani?” Padmé questioned, coming to a stop in front of Anakin and General Tarkin, Artoo and Bandit happily at their heels. 

“Admiral Tarkin has received reports of a rogue narglatch roaming the forests at the northern border,” he responded mechanically, avoiding Padmé’s eyes. 

“No one has been able to find you all day,” she pressed, her voice hushed and bleeding disappointment. 

“Don’t worry,'' he murmured, glancing at you as you approached Bandit, kneeling next to him to scratch at his ears and under his chin. “It’ll all be better soon.” 

He placed a quick kiss to her cheek before offering you a curt nod, turning on his heel with Admiral Tarkin, leaving the two of you behind. Artoo whined and Anakin called him to his side, telling Bandit to stay with you and Padmé. 

You shared a concerned look with her before rising, suggesting you pay the king a visit during his call hours. Bandit followed behind you until he was distracted by a group of younglings calling to him, eagerly running to join them for more pats. 

As you traveled down the great hall you could hear the buzzing of dozens of voices before you could see the doors to the throne room, squeezing Padmé’s hand as the two of you wove through the crowd of people. When you finally made it into the room you could make out Obi-Wan looking uncharacteristically small in his throne, attempting to calm the anxious voices calling to him from every direction. 

His cheeks were flushing with frustration and his crown threatened to topple off his head. You could hear shouts of “narglatch,” “northern border,” and “tsis,” fear growing in the room as people shouted over each other in a desperate attempt to be heard. 

Padmé started to guide you to the dais with a firm but gentle hand on your back. 

“He needs your help.” 

“Padmé, I can’t,” you hissed. “I’m nobody.” 

She stilled you with a serious face, squeezing the hand she had clasped in her own. 

“You are not nobody. You are the future queen of Coruscant. And right now, your husband needs your help.” 

You swallowed thickly before glancing over your shoulder, taking in Obi-Wan’s paled knuckles from where he was squeezing the armrest and the tight tick in his jaw. You let out a shuddering breath before slowly ascending the shallow stairs, turning to face the crowd as you placed your hand on his shoulder, greeting him with a slight bow of your head. 

He held up a quieting hand which barely calmed the mass of people, struggling to conceal the exhaustion in his eyes. 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” you tried to assert, voice cracking under the weight of your own anxiety. 

He lifted his hand to yours and squeezed your ring finger, once again trying to call for quiet. 

You shook your head to clear it before taking a deep breath and a half step forward, leaving your fingertips pressed firm against Obi-Wan. 

“Ladies and gentlemen of the court, please.” 

To your surprise your voice was strong and several people paused to look at you, wondering who you might be. 

“His majesty has been informed of the events at the border and must take a few moments to discuss plans with his council. Someone will return to take your questions and concerns shortly.” 

A quiet murmur rippled through the crowd as Padmé beckoned you to the side door, holding it open. Obi-Wan stood quickly behind you and bounced down the steps of the dais, turning to offer you his hand as you descended. Villagers and courtiers alike parted to allow you and Obi-Wan to swiftly enter the council room where he promptly let out an exhausted sigh as soon as Padmé closed the heavy door. 

“News travels quickly,” he finally said, rubbing his fingers across his forehead. You brought him to a nearby chair and started to rub at his shoulders as Padmé recounted your run-in with Admiral Tarkin and Anakin in the garden. 

He made a noncommittal grunt before explaining that Tarkin had received the first alerts of the narglatch. 

“He must have told Anakin who agreed to go dispatch it,” Padmé wondered, bracing her hands against the well of a large window overlooking the cliffs. 

“I have a bad feeling about this,” he muttered, relaxing into your touch.

There was a knock at the door and Obi-Wan called out an enter. The whole jidai council filed in and took their seats around the table, turning expectantly towards their king. 

You cleared your throat and withdrew your hand, standing behind his chair as Padmé stood behind the one unoccupied by Anakin. You listened quietly as Obi-Wan explained the situation to the council, watching as they all murmured in response. 

“So it was just Anakin and General Tarkin that left to take out the narglatch?” 

All eyes were on General Windu as he spoke, giving voice to the fear that had been buried in the back of everyone’s minds. 

“No,” General Koon responded. “Commander Wolffe, if you’d explain what you saw please.” 

“Yes, sir. I was at the armory when Prince Skywalker and General Tarkin came by to stock up on weapons, attended by about ten soldiers.” 

Obi-Wan nodded his head. 

“They will easily be able to best the beast with those numbers.”

“That still doesn’t explain why he left without clearing the situation with at least one of us.” 

You looked down the table at the unfamiliar woman with thick braided hair who had her fists balled on the top of the table. 

“Ambassador Amidala, didn’t you say Anakin has been acting strangely?” 

Padmé nodded her head in response. 

“Yes, General Ti. He has been known to have visions, which may account for some of his sleeplessness. It’s possible he sensed the threat before it presented itself in a way that he could express.” 

You watched the way Obi-Wan shifted in his chair, feeling a slight unease roll off him before it was masked by a tide of calm. 

“We’ve no choice but to wait for Anakin’s certainly victorious return,” Obi-Wan finally said, pulling his beard between his thumb and forefinger. 

“Padmé, would you clear the throne room?” 

“Of course your majesty.” 

Padmé swept out of the room with a shallow bow, quickly followed by the council members. Once the room was empty Obi-Wan held his hand out over the side of the chair and you placed yours under it, gasping when he pulled you into a hug. 

“Thank you,” he mumbled, nuzzling at the side of your neck. “It can get terribly overwhelming.” 

You threaded your hand through his hair and placed a soft kiss to his forehead. 

“Well my king, if you're through with your duties for the day, I can think of a way to help you relax.” 

He smiled and began to pull you through a hidden door. The short corridor brought you to a small opening concealed by a large tapestry near the entrance to his rooms. 

“It’s for emergencies,” he shrugged. 

You laughed as he kissed your knuckles, the nagging tug of fear quelled by his warmth. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The next few days passed quickly, working with Padmé and Cee on making ceremony decisions and finalizing the food selections for the grand ball that would be held following your marriage to King Kenobi. When you weren’t bustling around the castle you were going through cadences in the yard with Padmé or studying in the tower, building your strength and your connection to the magic that flowed through you. 

Your nights were spent tucked against Obi-Wan’s side, your own chambers now empty from Cee quietly organizing your move down the hallway while you worked on your magic. You were happily snuggled against his pillows when the sound of a high pitched horn jolted you both awake in the early morning hours, light barely creeping through the windows. 

He raced out of bed and hastily dressed, words of explanation thrown over his shoulder. 

“Emergency.” 

“Throne room.” 

You pulled your robe on and called his name before he ran out the door, giving him a quick peck before dropping the crown he had nearly forgotten on his head. 

“Wait here please. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” 

His voice was as gentle as the hand on your cheek and you agreed with a simple nod, closing the door behind him before dressing yourself. You expected Padmé to come to the room at any minute and began to grow more anxious with each passing moment, hoping that nothing bad had happened to Anakin on his mission. 

Time was dragging as you paced the floor so you decided to sit at Obi-Wan’s desk and thumb through one of the well worn spellbooks, landing on a few pages that depicted something called saud nirgi, which appeared to involve the manipulation of fire. 

You lugged the book towards the fireplace and dropped it on the ground next to you, sitting to meditate for a few moments before fumbling through the new words, concentrating on the glowing embers in the center of the hearth. 

You were deeply absorbed in the art, hand outstretched as you focused on the connection between you and the scorched wood. As you dropped in you could feel the now familiar pull spread throughout your body and you concentrated it at your fingertips, just as Obi-Wan had taught you. 

With a deep breath you spoke the word “nirgi,” opening one eye after doing so to see if anything had changed. You repeated yourself and focused more, becoming so ingrained in the task that you failed to hear the door open and were oblivious to the soft footsteps of the person approaching where you sat. 

Obi-Wan’s beard tickled your neck as he spoke gently into your ear. 

“Try a soft g darling.” 

You did, and a feeling like the fire you were calling was hot on your hands as you opened your eyes, finding the ember alight before turning to face Obi-Wan with a proud smile. 

“You’ve grown so much,” he praised, kneeling on the floor as you moved to face him fully. He was smiling but it didn’t quite reach the corners of his eyes, that charming crinkle absent and giving way to a dark anger. 

“There’s been a tsis attack on one of our northern villages,” he said bluntly, grasping your hand as he watched your face fall. 

“Generals Koon and Windu will be riding with me and a company of soldiers, we’re bringing all we can spare. Anakin will meet us, we’ve sent him word -” 

“I’m coming with you!” 

“No. You absolutely will not. While you’ve grown strong, I cannot bring you into battle.” 

“I can stay back and help your healers,” you protested, tears starting to gather at the corners of your eyes. 

“I am sorry my darling, but I will not put you in that kind of danger. You must stay here, and I will return to you as quickly as I can. Cee and Padmé will be here with you, but I must go.” 

He pulled you in for a kiss and you brought your hand to his cheek, wiping away the watery trails you were certain mirrored your own. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Obi-Wan was leading the charge to the north, racing through forest paths as quickly as Dolega could carry him. Generals Koon and Windu were right behind him on their own orbaks, followed by a company of soldiers with Commander Wolffe at their helm. 

They rode for hours before coming across the smoldering village, slowing to a walk before Obi-Wan dismounted, pulling Dolega along by the bridle. He approached a group of villagers before calling one of the healers forward, seeing to it that their wounds were properly tended. 

“Have you any idea who led the attack?” 

Obi-Wan’s hand tightened in his glove when the man he addressed lifted his head, the name shaky on his burned lips. 

“General Grievous.” 

Obi-Wan thanked the man and called over to Plo and Mace, informing them of the assailant’s identity. 

“He didn’t do this alone,” Plo rumbled, steadying his orbak to remount. 

“No,” Mace agreed. “We need to find him. And quickly.” 

The swiftly moved out, some of the soldiers staying behind to help the surviving villagers gather their belongings to take refuge back at the castle. 

They didn’t have to look far, cresting the next ridge to find Grievous and his army waiting on the other side of the valley, a lone guardsman waiting halfway between. Plo signaled for Wolffe to come forward, every man in the army holding their breath as he made his way to the center of the field. 

The negotiations were short and Wolffe returned wearing a somber frown, wringing his hand on the hilt of his sword. 

“They will accept no peace negotiations. We will defeat Grievous or he will burn the whole border down and work his way to the heart of Coruscant. Emperor Palpatine is coming.” 

“So it’s war, then,” Obi-Wan grunted, lifting his sword over his head, feeling the army behind him ready themselves. Grievous did the same, his sword flashing through the air as a roar rolled down the hill as his soldiers rushed forth. 

“Leave Grievous to me.” 

The engraving down the blade of his sword glowed blue as he signaled his men forward, charging towards General Grievous. 

When he reached the center of the fray he rolled off of Dolega’s back, placing a hand on his hindquarters and giving him a silent command to retreat to the ridge. With deadly accuracy he made his way towards Grievous, shouting his name to be heard over the din of battle. 

Grievous laughed before a deep cough rattled in his chest. 

“You think you can take me, Kenobi? I’d like to see you try. Your whole kingdom will burn at my feet!” 

Obi-Wan was surrounded by soldiers, centering himself with a deep breath before turning to face the first guard that stood in his way. 

Battle raged around him, his commandos locked in fights with rogue tsis guards as groups of them formed around the generals. Mace and Plo were working towards Obi-Wan, knowing the only way to end this battle was to capture or kill Grievous. 

Though deadly and a skilled warrior, Mace took a hard blow to the knee and fumbled, being overrun with guards as they worked to bind him, stopping his attack and dragging him back towards a cart. 

Obi-Wan snarled as his sword went through the next guard, blood spattering his face as he pushed towards Grievous. When they engaged, Obi-Wan parried his twin-sword attack, moving swiftly to strike at his side. 

“Do you fight for her Kenobi? I’ll see to it that you stay alive just long enough to watch her die.” 

Obi-Wan screamed your name as rage filled his veins, his calculating movements becoming more forceful and less accurate. Guards were pushing in tighter around them, and for every guard he took two more seemed to fill their place. 

With a deep breath he pushed at the earth below a group of guards, watching them topple over each other as he fought another at this back. Metal clanged on metal as the blue engravings glowed more deeply, pulsing with every strike. 

“Dooku can’t wait to get his hands on her,” Grievous growled, stalking closer to Obi-Wan. “As soon as she bears him a son he’ll be finished with her, and then I’ll get to dispose of you.” 

Obi-Wan fumbled, taking a hard knock to the back that caused him to drop his sword. He ducked under Grievous’s wide swing and landed a hard punch under the jaw. Grievous stumbled back and Obi-Wan moved to pull a dagger from the back of his boot before getting tackled to the ground. The guards rushed in and pinned his hands above his head to bind him, pulling off his rings and necklace, checking every pocket to make sure not a single piece of kyber remained on his person. 

“Ari,” he coughed, spitting up blood as the guards pushed him into a kneel. The next time he said your name he roared it with violent rage - a promise he knew you couldn’t hear, and a promise he hoped he could keep. He would come home to you. Feeling cool metal still pressed against his forehead he took one last chance, breathing deep before he started to recite an old and powerful spell, feeling it prickle at his fingertips until it stopped cold. 

Obi-Wan opened his eyes to find Grievous standing over him, turning his battle circlet over in his hands before placing it on his own head. 

“Looks a little small for you,” Obi-Wan spat, grunting when he was met with the cold armor on the back of the general’s hand. 

“She was your mortal flaw Kenobi. Only fools love.” 

General Grievous signaled to his men to round up all the surviving soldiers, dragging Obi-Wan to the cart by the back of his collar. He fought the whole way there and he heard Plo yelling to Wolffe to run, to get back to the castle as quickly as he could. 

“Let him go,” Grievous barked, watching Wolffe make a beeline for Dolega. His guards stopped in their tracks and turned to face him. 

“They’ll never be ready.” 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

As the sun began to set, you decided that you couldn’t stay in Obi-Wan’s chambers any longer, needing to find something to do to take your mind off his absence. You made your way to Padmé’s room, knocking and finding it empty. You thought she might be in the library, knowing she went there to think almost as often as you did. 

You rounded the corner and were making your way down the corridor when you heard a creak. You turned to look behind you and found the hallway empty. Thinking the sound was a trick on your ears, you started back on your path to the library, nearly walking into a narrow chest. 

You barely had time to register the body in front of you, Anakin’s face wild and dangerous before your world went black. 

CHAPTER SEVEN - POTESTAS 

You jostled awake with the rush of cold water thrown over your body, sputtering as the taste of blood overwhelmed your senses. Struggling to focus you blinked your eyes heavily and desperately tried to hear anything that wasn’t a pitched ring. 

You twisted and tried to turn, wriggling your hands before realizing that they were tightly bound behind your back. With an unsuccessful groan you lolled your head to the side, meeting a spindly nose framed by grayed hair pointed right at you.

You tried to scream, rage boiling your skin only to be halted by the cotton that seemed to fill your mouth, your tongue numb and useless. He sneered at you, a sick little smile as he watched you struggle. 

“Try not to hurt yourself dear, I’m not sure the count will accept damaged goods.” 

When the scent of seawater finally settled in your nose fear gripped your heart, realizing that there was only one place you could possibly be going. He must have seen the panic in your eyes because he laughed again, sitting back on his heels just to watch you thrash in vain. 

You glared at him, willing every muscle in your mouth to work. You watched him shuffle around and stand, making his way to a small wooden door - the exit to the hold. Gathering every ounce of strength you had you spat out a warning, bitter despite your clumsy tongue. 

“He’s going to kill you.” 

He paused with his hand on the door, turning to bare his teeth in the light. 

“Not if I kill him first.” 

And with that Tarkin turned on his heel, marching out of the hold before slamming the door, leaving you cold and alone. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Padmé was pacing, gliding up and down the long hallway as she waited for you. You weren’t in your chambers, nor the kings. She had been waiting for you in the library but when you didn’t arrive she went searching for you, wringing her hands tightly as she argued with herself about looking for you in the gardens or just staying in the hall. 

She paused when she heard the whisper of her name from a few feet away, turning around to find her husband stalking towards her. 

“Ani! Why are you here? There’s been an invasion, King Kenobi needs your help.” 

She met his eyes and gasped, faltering on a backwards step. Anakin reached out and caught her arm, pulling her into a hug. 

“I am helping him.” 

Padmé pushed against his chest, trying to back away from him. 

“Padmé you don’t understand. I have to save Coruscant. This is the only way.” 

“Anakin, this is all wrong. What’s going on?” 

He tightened his grip on her upper arm, dragging her down the hallway and back towards their rooms. 

“Everything is going to be fine, just trust me.” 

Padmé planted her feet on the floor, struggling against him as he pushed her through the doorway. She tried to pull him inside, get him to sit down and talk with her, but he moved too quickly. 

Before she could react the door was slammed shut and locked from the outside and she curled her hands into fists to beat at the wood, yelling for an answer she knew she wouldn’t find. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The next time you opened your eyes you could feel the deep ache in your body from laying on the wooden floor of the ship, second only to the pounding in your head. The door to the hull had been flung open and Tarkin marched in, hauling you off the floor and pushing you towards the steep steps to the deck. 

“Move,” he snarled, shoving you hard in the back. 

“No."

You locked yourself in place until he climbed around you and dug his fingers into your arm, yanking you forward. 

“Fight all you like but your fate is sealed.” 

When you screamed he just studied his nail beds, waiting for you to run out of air. 

“If you’re quite finished, we can go. No one is coming to help you.” 

You spat at him and he yanked you forward again, forcing you up the stairs where you were flanked by two of your father’s guards, scowling at them as they assisted you into a nearby waiting carriage. 

The ride to the castle seemed much shorter than you had remembered it and you spent the duration wishing to be back in Coruscant. Your mind was focused on Obi-Wan, hoping that he’d soon return to his castle and come to Aquilae to bring you back home. 

Home. 

For the longest time you thought this castle was home, but now it felt cold and foreign. Every day you spent in Coruscant you learned something new, tasted something different, or grew in your strength. Your parents had limited you where Obi-Wan and his family helped you blossom, so when you rounded the familiar corner to your father’s throne room you steeled your jaw and allowed the guards to loosen your hands, shaking their grips on your shoulders to march in ahead of them with your head held high. 

“Father,” you snapped, eyes flicking to the two unfamiliar men standing next to him. “What is the meaning of this?” 

The curl on King Abigor’s lips made your stomach turn.

“There you are my child.” 

You cast him a disgusted look and repeated your question once more. 

“We had to bring you back to Aquilae so that you may marry Count Dooku.” 

He gestured to the tall, greying man to his right and you swallowed the bile that rose in the back of your throat. 

“The kingdoms of Aquilae and Ziost have forged a favorable agreement -”

“I’m betrothed to King Kenobi! The contract is finished and is in Coruscant, I need only send word and it can be delivered here.” 

Dooku pressed his lips in a thin line and the older man, who you assumed to be Emperor Palpatine, raised a hand to his shoulder. 

“No, you will marry who I say you will marry,” your father hissed, bristling with anger. “The contract for your marriage to Count Dooku is already written, signed, and sealed.”

You narrowed your eyes at them before straightening your stance, placing a hand on your hip. 

“I’ve already slept with King Kenobi.” 

Queen Mara rolled her eyes heavily as your father barked out a laugh. 

“And you expect any of us to believe that you were pure before that? Please, do remember your manners and remain silent in the presence of your husband unless he or I is directly addressing you.” 

You stomped your foot on the ground, your anger bleeding out into the charged air around you. 

“No! I absolutely will not, I refuse. King Kenobi will -” 

Count Dooku’s voice was cold and sharp, stopping you in your tracks. 

“ Enough of this.” 

He swooped towards you, towering over you as he snarled his displeasure. 

“ I am your Maker now. I am your beginning and your end. I am the dominion to which you answer, and that is final .” 

He was cold and rigid and for the first time since you had left Aquilae, you felt afraid. You stepped to the side, voice trembling as you gazed at your parents. 

“Father, how could you -” 

Dooku stepped back in front of you and grabbed your chin, nails biting into your flesh. 

“I said enough . Now, do be a darling and take yourself to my chambers and make yourself presentable. I don’t want to catch a whiff of Kenobi on you.” 

You shook his hand away and glowered at his feet. 

“I will never -” 

Count Dooku’s laugh shook you to your bones and you took a timid step away from him, hoping to avoid his hands finding any part of your body again. 

“Never? Then you can rot in the dungeons with your parents until you change your mind.” 

He snapped and the guards that escorted you into the room quickly returned to your side, four more surrounding your parents as their mouths dropped in shock.  

“Get them out of my sight. All of them.” 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Commander Wolffe rode as fast as Dolega would carry him, leading him to a lesser known servant’s entrance at the side of the castle. He noticed it oddly quiet before hearing a familiar whimper, pulling open an old wardrobe to find Cee crouched inside. 

“What in the seven hells are you doing in there?” 

“Anakin was gathering all the soldiers and there’s rumors that King Kenobi is dead! I can’t find Ari or Padmé and -” 

Wolffe hushed her, holding his hand out to help her out of the closet. 

“The king has been captured by General Grievous, I can only assume they’re coming here. We need to go.” 

Cee sniffled before giving Wolffe a resolute nod, leading him to a winding staircase. 

“This will lead us to the chamber hall.” 

Wolffe thanked her before holding the door open, ushering her in and pulling it closed behind them. The pair climbed two steps at a time, bustling into the hall near the entrance to your rooms. 

He raised his hand to rap on the door when he caught sound of a muffled yell, grasping the sword at his waist before breaking into a run down the hallway. Wolffe jiggled the handle to Padmé’s room and found it locked, and Cee started to examine it while pulling out a small set of picks. 

“No time,” Wolffe grunted, setting his sword back in its scabbard before pulling Cee back and banging on the door with a closed fist. 

“Stand back!” 

There was a small shuffle on the opposite side of the door before Wolffe landed a two firm kicks on the door, forcing it open with a crunch of wood. 

Padmé stormed out, hugging Cee before offering Wolffe a half curtsy. 

“Where’s Ari?” they asked each other together, realizing at once that she must not be in the castle. 

With an exasperated sigh Wolffe pointed down the hallway. 

“We can talk on the way but we need to get to Aquilae. Cody, Rex, and a small company of men are there at the mines, I brought them supplies a few weeks ago. His majesty left them there for security - perhaps Dooku and Palpatine are there with her.” 

Padmé nodded and they started to run down the hallway, following Wolffe’s lead. 

When they reached the servant’s quarters Wolffe had entered through, Cee paused. 

“I should stay here. Who knows what state the castle will be in when you return?” 

Wolffe and Padmé thanked her and she ran off to hide, leaving the pair to mount Dolega and race to the port, cursing the sheer size of Coruscant shortly after starting their journey. 

“I just hope we’re not too late.” 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

A raven cried at the window and Dooku approached it slowly, holding his hand out to the large black bird. He read the small note before turning to his master, offering him a devilish smile. 

“Grievous has captured Kenobi and Anakin waits for us at the castle.” 

Palpatine laughed from King Abigor’s throne, the blood of several brave and rebellious servants now staining the ornately carved feet. 

“Excellent! In no time at all Coruscant will be ours.” 

Dooku nodded and released the bird with a short reply, letting the general know the emperor would be arriving shortly. 

“You’re certain you would like me to stay here?” 

“Yes, Dooku, you worry too much. No one is left to oppose me. Grievous will come once I hold the throne of Coruscant and you may join me there before returning to Ziost.” 

“What of the girl?” 

“Perhaps she’ll come to her senses before then. And if not, just bind her and bring her with.” 

-

You had sunk to your knees in the center of your cell, reaching out to the cold floor before you and meeting the raw pulse of Aquilae. 

There was such power below the surface, all of the untapped kyber making your hands shake. You took a steadying breath and leaned further down, head resting on the dirt floor as you began to slowly chant, sinking into a deep meditation. 

You’re not sure how long you stayed that way, hours or maybe even days, praying into the earth, searching for some sign that Obi-Wan was okay. You focused on the way he always smelled, his steady thrum of calm, and the ultramarine of his eyes until you felt it - a small thread between your fingers, faintly vibrating against your skin. 

This has to be him.

Your mind raced with possibilities and you fought to stay centered, determined to hold on to the only connection you still had with him. But it was weak - and the darkness of worry started to bloom in your mind. 

So when a small rock made contact with your head you snapped up while the air crackled around you. 

“Finally made peace with your fate then?” 

Your father’s head was cocked to the side as he smirked at you, clinging to the metal bars of the cage he shared with your mother. 

You snarled out angry words, clenching your fists until your father screamed in pain, backing away from the door as he held his hands to his chest. 

“Who taught you that witchcraft?” he moaned, your mother staring daggers as she took their small jug of water and soaked a rag to sooth the burns you had caused. 

“Who do you think?” 

“He ruined you!” 

“Don’t pretend to care now,” you said darkly, drawing more and more power from your connection to the raw earth below you. “ You were all too willing to give me away. Twice in fact." 

You could feel the vibrations of everything around you, drawing it towards yourself in a way you had never felt before. Your hands shook as the energy built, eyes flashing wild with the emotions you were battling. 

"I should just kill you here and -” 

“Ari!” 

You startled and ran to the edge of your cell, Padmé’s familiar voice bringing you to tears. 

“Padmé! I’m over here!” 

You reached a hand between the bars and waved it frantically, ignoring the way your parents had scrambled to the edge of their cage again to watch your friend run down the narrow corridor. 

She quickly unlocked your cell and you fell into a tight hug, choking your sobs down as you sang your thanks. 

“How are you here?” 

“Commander Wolffe. He’s getting the others. We need to get you out of here.” 

“And what of us?” 

You turned to glare at your mother, eyes feral in the dim candle light. 

“You can do what Dooku suggested and rot here for all I care.” 

The air crackled around you again and Padmé placed a gentle hand on your wrist. 

“They’ll answer for their crimes. We must go, now.” 

You nodded and took her hand in yours, leading her down one narrow corridor to another before pressing up flat against the fall, holding your index finger to your lips. You felt her grab the short sword at her waist, pressing her dagger into your hand. 

The two of you popped out from your place as the other group rounded the corner and you let out a quiet gasp, Padmé’s dagger nearly clattering to the ground before she caught it with a turn of her wrist, returning it to its place on her belt. 

Malkyn and Thomas had their hands held open before surrounding you with their arms, Malkyn pressing several kisses to your cheeks. 

“We were coming to get you out,” she whispered harshly, turning your hands over to examine them. “You’ve grown so strong.” 

“What’s going on?” 

Your voice cracked, nearly breaking when Thomas placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. 

“Your parents betrayed you, and the entire kingdom of Aquilae. We overheard them at breakfast when the Emperor and Count Dooku arrived. They intend to kill Kenobi and his successor, taking Coruscant for themselves. If they rule Ziost, Aquilae, and Coruscant -” 

“They could take the whole planet,” Padmé finished with a solemn sigh. 

“Thomas, Malkyn, this is her royal highness, Padmé Amidala, wife of Prince Skywalker.” 

She offered a shallow bow in the cramped hallway and Malkyn and Thomas returned it before Thomas’s face fell further. 

“They’re using him my lady, they plan to kill him too.” 

“Where are they now?” 

Your voice was granite, a hardness that tasted strange in your mouth. You followed them out of the corridor and into a larger hallway where Malkyn gestured in the general direction of the throne room. 

“The Emperor left and we came to find you immediately. Count Dooku is waiting for Grievous to arrive here and then he will depart back to Coruscant.” 

“That just won’t do,” you growled, storming down the hallway before Thomas and Padmé ran to catch up to you. 

“He’s too powerful -” 

“They signed a blood pact for my marriage to him. Either I die, or he does.” 

Padmé paled and turned to Thomas, asking him to fetch as many guards as he could. He ran off and she returned to you, holding your shoulders. 

“If the King were here -” 

“Well he’s not!” 

Hot tears were beginning to burn down your cheeks and Padmé pressed her sword into her hand, a silent understanding passing between you as the string you were desperately holding on to started to burn. 

“They’re hurting him, Padmé.” 

She sent you a questioning look and you held up your hand, rolling the invisible thread between your fingers. 

“You found your bond to him,” she smiled. “That means he can sense you, too. He’ll keep fighting for you, Ari.” 

“And I’ll fight for him, too.” 

“But not alone.” 

The rumble of a low voice made you turn on your heel and you were met with a small company of men, helmed by Commander Wolffe and who you could only assume to be Commanders Cody and Rex. You searched among their faces, finding Thomas standing in their ranks. He must have ran into them on their way to the throne room, sharing a common goal. 

They placed their helmets on their heads and Wolffe handed Padmé an axe, everyone marching towards the throne room before you threw the doors open, sword pointed directly at Dooku as energy crackled around you, the edge of your blade glowing to match the kyber of your ring. 

His guards snapped to attention and immediately began to descend onto your group as you advanced, snarling his name as you pushed towards him. 

Dooku parried as you swung at him, stepping sideways while he sneered at you. 

“Who do you think you are?” 

You took another swing, narrowly missing his chest before he thrust back at you. 

“Certainly not your wife.” 

He growled and turned towards you, reversing the grip on his red edged sword as he spun, an attack you narrowly dodged. Kenobi’s men were steadily taking the guards, the room growing stale with the scent of spilled blood. 

Dooku kept pushing and eventually had you pressed against the wall, disarming you before wrapping his hand around your throat, squeezing tightly against your flesh. You kicked out at him but his long arms kept him out of range, the predatory smile growing on his face. 

“Hush now. When you wake, you’ll be back in Coruscant. That’s what you want isn’t it?” 

“Not like this,” a deep voice responded for you, silver flashing through the air before a howl of pain filled your ears and air rushed into your lungs. 

Wolffe slid his arm under yours, supporting your weight as Cody and Rex stripped Dooku of his kyber, binding his hand and wrapping his bleeding stump with his cape. They hauled him to stand and you spat in his face. 

“Blood is spilled, consider the contract void,” you growled. 

He bared his teeth at you. 

“I still live.” 

Cody jostled him a little harder than necessary, forcing him to stand instead of lean on the man for support. 

“Count your seconds.” 

Padmé joined you and Wolffe to return his axe, blood spattered across her face. 

“We need to hurry, but we can’t leave Aquilae unattended.” 

“I’ll stay,” Wolffe volunteered, shutting down your noise of protest. “I’m sure Thomas and I can hold our own against whatever guards remain.” 

You gave him a firm hug before making your way out of the room with Padmé, Cody and Rex dragging a bitter Dooku along behind them. You turned to find Wolffe casually observing the great throne before sitting in it, flexing his hands against the dark wood. 

“That suits you,” you called. 

His laugh was light and for a moment, just a moment, you had hope that everything was going to turn out okay. 

CHAPTER EIGHT - EVERSIO 

General Grievous poked at Obi-Wan’s knee with his toe, his cough rattling through the bare stone room. Obi-Wan raised his eyes slowly, rolling them hard at the sight of Grievous wearing his crown. His rings. Even his sword was heavy on the man's hip, and he could make out his small dagger tucked into the wrong side of the boot currently applying more pressure to his leg. 

Obi-Wan’s lip curled. 

"May I help you with something?" 

Grievous smirked, crouching in front of him to take his chin in his hand. 

"Is that any way to talk to your master?" 

Obi-Wan ignored him, eyes stormy and dark. He grimaced when Grievous landed a firm hand to his cheek before wrapping his spindly fingers around his throat, scowl set deep in his narrow face. 

"Shall we end your suffering in front of Ari? Let her see how weak you truly are?" 

Obi-Wan struggled against the wall, his wrists bound tightly behind his back. Grievous laughed and pressed his hand into Obi-Wan harder, learning into him to snatch up the dagger, holding the tip just below his eye. 

"You'll rot before you break me," Obi-Wan wheezed, his voice thin from lack of air. He pulled himself back as far as he could, coughing when the pressure at his throat was released. 

With fleeting relief he hung his head until Grievous hoisted him up by his hair, snarling as he pressed the flat edge of the dagger against Obi-Wan’s lips, splitting the soft flesh with the edge of the blade. 

"You will not speak to me that way," Grievous growled, fire light dancing in his eyes. "But I do expect you to sing." 

-

Obi-Wan wasn’t sure how much time had passed before he was thrown back into his cell, caught by Plo when he stumbled. Too weak to stand he collapsed to his knees, chest heaving as he growled Grievous’s name. 

The general turned to stand at the heavy iron bars sneering at Obi-Wan as he lifted his head, jaw clenched and the edges of his ears as scarlet as the fresh blood at the corner of his mouth. 

“Find your faith, Grievous. Invoke every deity you can because I will get out of this prison. And when I do, I will drag you into the seventh hell.” 

The corner of Grievous’ lip quivered before he strode down the corridor, extinguishing the torches as he went, casting the dungeon in darkness. Plo wrapped his arm around Obi-Wan’s back as Mace paced the far wall, grumbling curses in the old language. 

“I fear for her, Plo.” Obi-Wan’s voice was as shaky as the breath he took in, head resting on Plo’s steady shoulder. He nodded his understanding and clasped Obi-Wan’s hand in his own, willing his calm to flow into the other man. Even without their channels, he was able to inhale more deeply, tears of frustration dying at the corners of his eyes. 

“Meditate with me. Focus on your bond, let her know that you’re safe.” 

Mace came and sat with the pair, joining their meditation with a quiet sigh. He focused on his family, just as he knew Plo was focusing on his granddaughter and Obi on you. Quietly they all reached out across their faded bonds, pulling them tight to their chest with the faintest sliver of hope. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Through here,” Anakin hissed, gesturing to a door hidden beneath a tapestry. “All of you, get to the tower and lock yourselves inside the library. You must hurry.” 

A young girl at the end of the line paused, looking up at him with great fear in her eyes. 

“What’s going on, your highness?” 

Anakin dropped to a knee, pulling the tapestry further to the side. His aurous eyes blazed, red beginning to creep over the whites. 

“Coruscant is in danger. You must keep the others safe, Ahsoka.” 

She nodded solemnly before placing her small hand on Anakin’s pinky, looking at him as seriously as a child could. 

“You be safe, too.” 

Anakin lowered his head as she ran down the hidden passage, catching up the other younglings halfway to the library by now. He closed the door and with a quiet whisper the metal bolt began to melt, sealing the passage in hopes to keep the young ones safe for as long as he could manage. 

When he stood a sharp pain crackled up his back and he let the tapestry fall back in place, limping his way to the throne room. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You looked down at your hands tangled in Dolega’s reins as your group raced up the forested road, a persistent warmth spreading through the tip of your ring finger. It was stronger than before, no doubt enhanced by your proximity to the castle. 

“How much further?” you called to your side, eyes searching for anything recognizable. 

“Not much, my lady. The bridge is over the next crest.” You nodded as Cody continued, gesturing to Rex with his head. “We’ll gather whatever troops we can find. You and Padmé find King Kenobi and Prince Skywalker. We’ll be there to back you up.” 

You whispered a quiet thank you, lost in the air between you as your group rounded the bend, examining the castle just as you had the first day you arrived. You were surprised when you saw that there were no guards lining the road; no army taking up post at the gate. It was eerily quiet and you were flooded with fear, heart hammering inside your chest. 

Your party slowed when you passed below the great stone arch, Cody and Rex giving you and Padmé a quick salute before turning down the side of the castle, making their way towards the barracks. You didn’t have time to stable the orbaks, bringing them to the stairs instead to dismount and loosely tie them to a nearby carriage post. 

You gave Dolega a quick scratch behind the ears for luck before racing up the steps to meet Padmé at the top, sharing a steeled glance before taking your sword in hand, throwing the doors wide open. 

You were ready to swing, hands clenched so tightly around the hilt of your sword that your knuckles ached. When you were met with an empty hallway your face fell, relaxing only a fraction. 

“Padmé?” you asked quietly, looking over to her as you straightened your back. 

“I have a bad feeling about this,” she muttered, turning her dagger over in her hands. “We need to get to the dungeons. If they’re alive and being kept anywhere, it’s there.” 

You nodded and followed after her, clinging to the walls as you snuck through the castle. You neared a section of windows and you sucked in a breath, grabbing at Padmé’s elbow as you pointed outside. A tall man was pacing in front of rows of scarlet-clad soldiers, barking out orders in a language you didn’t recognize. 

“Tsis guards,” Padmé explained, a gentle whisper in your ear. “Hopefully Rex and Cody find the rest of the king’s men soon, we must hurry.” 

You hastened and arrived at an unfamiliar door, finding it locked when you tried to pull it open. Padmé held the handle and whispered a few words, releasing the mechanism and allowing the door to swing in. 

“I should have guessed,” you chuckled, pulling your sword from your hip once more. Padmé shrugged with a hint of her knowing smirk, descending the stairs as quickly as she could. When the two of you reached the landing there was an eerie hiss that flooded the space around you before moving up the stairs - a newly laid alarm spell, Padmé explained. 

You groaned, no time to waste. You and Padmé began down the hall when you heard the heavy clamber of footsteps racing towards you. You heard Master Ti call out to Padmé and she paused at the cell door, working at the lock as you carried on. 

“Ari.” 

You nearly flattened yourself against the bars of the cell when you heard Obi-Wan’s voice, the heat at the tips of your fingers spreading to engulf your entire palm as you reached for him, fingertips just brushing against his before you were yanked back at the shoulder, cold plate metal biting into your flesh. 

“You don’t want to do that,” General Grievous growled, pushing you deeper into the corridor. You balked at him, Obi-Wan’s crown tight on his head, rings twirling loose on his spindled fingers. 

“And none of that belongs to you,” you snarked, running your tongue over your teeth as you looked for a way around him. 

He underestimated you, obvious in the way his weight was off balance. You thought of Padmé’s training - exploit your openings - and so you did, ducking under Grievous’ shoulder and shoving him into the far wall. You moved quickly, flinging your ring through the bars to Obi-Wan, watching him catch it and slip it onto his pinky with a heavy sigh. 

Grievous rubbed his chin with his hand, turning to grab at your neck and sink his thumb into your pressure point. 

“You little -” 

Clank. 

Grievous turned towards the sound to see Obi-Wan standing in the entryway of the cell, Mace and Plo behind him. He turned back to sneer at you before shoving you to the side, cracking his knuckles before taking a step forward. Obi-Wan wasted no time dodging Grievous’ leading punch, maneuvering himself into position to land his own blow straight under the general’s jaw. 

Grievous stumbled back, falling against the bars out cold. Obi-Wan rushed to your side as Plo and Mace dragged the general into the newly vacated cell, stripping him of all the kyber he had stolen and chaining him to the far wall. 

“I’m so sorry you had to see that my darling, it was so uncivilized.” Obi-Wan wrapped his arms around you as he spoke and you let yourself give into the safety of his embrace for just a few moments. He traced his thumb across your cheek, noting the wounds you sported from earlier. 

“I swear I will hunt down every person that dared to lay a hand on you.” 

“You’ve made a good start,” you smiled, a brief attempt at levity before the sounds of the skirmish down the hall began to come closer. 

“He told me I was a fool for loving you,” he breathed into your hair, pressing a firm kiss against your hairline. 

“You -” 

His ears burned scarlet and he swallowed, watching Plo and Mace re-emerge from the cell to lock it behind them. 

“I do. Come now, we must find Anakin. I have a feeling he’s involved in this.” 

“I have a feeling you’re right,” you grumbled behind him, moving down the corridor. You found the rest of the masters standing over the fallen tsis guards, readying themselves with whatever kyber channels they could find. 

“Where’s Padmé?” you asked, not seeing her in the narrow hall. 

“Trying to find Anakin,” Master Ti answered, examining one of the guard’s swords before tucking it into her belt. “We need a plan.” 

“Commander Wolffe is in Aquilae and my parents are being held in the dungeons. We captured Count Dooku and he’s currently in the hold of our ship at the port, and Commanders Cody and Rex left Padmé and I to search out the other troopers.” 

You paused, feeling everyone’s eyes on you and looked to Obi-Wan, finding his lips parted with the corner turned up, looking every bit proud underneath his wounds. 

“An excellent start,” he praised, placing a hand on your shoulder. “I’ll accompany Ari to search for Anakin, I have no doubts that he is with the Emperor.” He went about assigning his council to their tasks, ensuring everyone had adequate kyber on their person before placing his crown back on his head, letting it tilt to the side as it always had. 

With a firm nod the group broke apart with Mace staying behind to watch General Grievous. General Ti broke from the group next, heading to the stables so she could make her way to the port to collect Count Dooku, and the rest of the masters spread throughout the castle or made their way into the yards, searching out the tsis guards and any traitors. You were halfway to the throne room when Obi-Wan paused, brow furrowed in concentration. 

“It’s Anakin,” he whispered, face dropping before settling into a light sprint. You raced next to him, sword drawn, barreling into the throne room by his side. Quiet sobs alerted you to Padmé’s presence as she worked over Anakin, finding him pale and unresponsive, the gold in his eyes reflecting with the lights around the walls. 

“Glad you could join us,” Emperor Palpatine sneered, crossing one leg over the other as he lounged on the throne. “And you brought your pet.” 

You turned your sword in your hand and Obi-Wan took a step forward, glancing back at Anakin. 

“What did you do to him,” he growled, electricity crackling around the tips of his fingers. 

“He did it to himself!” Palpatine laughed, eyes shrouded by his cloak. “He was weak - afraid. The poison set in easily enough. I only wish he could have seen your fall. But he lied to me.” 

You and Obi-Wan knelt on either side of Anakin, and you watched as he examined his body, looking into his eyes before placing his hand on his chest, muttering a few quiet words. 

“You see Obi-Wan, I am going to pull this kingdom apart. Piece by piece.” 

You stood at Palpatine’s words, flexing your grip on the handle of your sword. 

“I wanted to take away your future, and that’s been accomplished in part. But he refused to dispatch the children, hiding them away. We will find them. Your intrusion here is just a momentary setback.” He was smiling, sick and twisted like the gnarled roots of an ancient tree. 

Obi-Wan had long stopped listening, concentrating on a deep meditation with his hand over Anakin’s heart as he chanted a long string of forgotten words. Your fingers twitched and Padmé stood with you. 

“Love is the ultimate weakness. You’ll come to find that it’s a waste.” 

With a trembling lip Padmé looked to Anakin’s still form, lips parting when she saw the subtle rise and fall of Anakin’s chest. Obi-Wan lifted his head then, eyes shining. 

“We need to hurry if we’re to save him,” he spoke quickly, rising to his feet as if he had forgotten Palpatine was there. 

“How typical,” Palpaine jeered, the tension in the room mounting. He raised his hand and began to whisper a quiet curse while Obi-Wan had his back turned and before you could second guess yourself you were moving towards him, catching the edge of the spell on the side of your blade. 

He turned and shouted your name, stilling for a moment when he realized you were still standing tall, the engraving on your sword beginning to flicker with light. 

“Channel it Ari. Feel, stop thinking. The words are training wheels.” 

You dug your heel into the stone where you stood, feeling his warmth flow from your hand throughout the rest of your body. Palpatine stood to mirror you and took a step onto the dias. Before you had the chance to move, light flashed and Obi-Wan crumpled behind you. 

Palptine’s voice was dark as he stalked towards you, ignoring Padmé as she ran from the room. 

“How you’ve grown, Ardyti.” 

“Stay away from me,” you growled, pointing your sword at him with shaking hands. “You don’t know me.” 

“Only because your grandfather never gave me the chance. He wanted to see his precious little destroyer kept safe -” 

The hairs on the back of your neck stood as energy crackled between Palpatine’s fingers, blue lightning erupting towards you. You raised your sword and spoke into the force, the magic, that deep connection to the world that your parents had tried to sever after your grandfather’s death before you knew any better. That connection that had healed and grown, seeds sown with patience and understanding. 

In the second it took for Palpatine’s magic to reach you, your sword began to groan, vibrating with the magic you pulled through the kyber at the hilt. It began to glow and you deflected his lightning, eyes narrowed as you watched Padmé escape to safety. 

He had the decency to look briefly surprised when his spell reflected off your blade and into the stone wall, cackling madly before descending down the dias. You moved away from where Obi-Wan and Anakin were laying, hoping to keep any wayward magic away from their bodies. 

“You could have everything my dear,” Palpatine smiled, lowering his hood so that his red eyes shone in the light. “Power, riches, heirs.” 

“I already have everything,” you spat back, following the subtle movements of his hands. 

His laugh was cold and his magic was fast; you moved as quickly as you could to defend yourself against his attack, sparks and lightning ricocheting off the steel of your blade. He was advancing towards you, crowding you against the far wall of the throne room. 

With little space to maneuver Palpatine finally knocked your sword out of your hand, the clang of the metal as heavy as your heart. You were surprised by his strength as he grabbed your wrist, shoving you hard against the wall. Magic was likely the only thing keeping him alive at this point, his skin nearly translucent under the torch. 

“If I didn’t need Dooku to breed you, I would kill you where you stand.” 

You swallowed down bitter, angry tears as you fought back against him, movement catching your eyes for a brief moment as a familiar head of tight golden curls rushed to Obi-Wan’s side. You took the briefest moment to beg the stars to keep him safe, to not let the harm that would certainly find you fall onto him. 

You shoved back against Palpatine again, gaining little ground before he dug his hand deep into your hair, his pointed yellow fingernails scraping into your scalp as he scowled at you. 

“You’re as much a fool as the rest of them. Had your grandfather bent to me your kingdoms would already be mine. He loved you, and do you see what loving you does? Look around!” 

He twisted your neck so you could take in Cee’s panic as she worked over Obi-Wan, fervently glancing between him and Anakin as he breathed slow and shallow by his side. There were cracks in the stones around the once proud dias, scoring all along the walls. Intricate carvings were crumbling, the golden paint had lost its shine. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes while you swung at him, struggling to get away. 

“You’re wrong,” you cried, heart cracking under the weight of his vitriol. 

“Am I wrong, Destroyer?” 

The nickname stung as you thought of your earliest days, stomping around a small pile of blocks. Ardyti, your grandfather called you fondly, tickling you silly until you begged him to stop, setting the blocks up high to knock them over again. He had passed when you were young but you held his memories fondly, carrying his little nickname everywhere you went. It was so innocent then, destruction nothing more than a game. Now, gazing across the once hallowed hall, you found nothing but ruin; a curse you had brought to this once beautiful land. You let your tears fall, that familiar emptiness creeping back into your bones. 

“You are wrong. Love is everything.” 

Padmé’s voice was loud, much closer than you had dared to ever hope. Palpatine had just started to release your head when you caught the flash of white kyber and an intricate silver blade moving through the air before it was stained with crimson rain. The pressure on your head released and you scrambled away, watching as the body before you slowly fade to ash.

Padmé pulled you to your feet and she rushed towards Anakin as you ran to Obi-Wan, dropping to the ground as he sat with Cee’s assistance, dazed as he took in the scene before him. 

“It’s finally over,” you sighed, pressing a kiss to his chest. “It’s over.” 

-

Commanders Cody and Rex had received their accolades and now stood on either side of Count Dooku and General Grievous as they knelt before your thrones, heads bowed while they awaited their sentencing. The masters had gathered to review the overwhelming evidence and found them guilty on all counts. During their trial they couldn’t go more than a few minutes without bickering between each other, and when Obi-Wan shot you a smirk you knew you were thinking the same thing. 

“The two of you shall live out your remaining days in our dungeon, side by side,” he announced, folding his hands with an air of finality. Grievous coughed loudly before trying to argue, silenced by the back of his hand meeting the butt of Cody’s staff. 

Count Dooku glowered at you as he was dragged away, never to be seen again.

Obi-Wan leaned over to you, whispering in your ear. 

“Good man that Cody.” 

You nodded in agreement, sharing his proud smile. He loved all of his troopers, and you were looking forward to the end of the day when they would be your official family too. 

 When your parents entered the throne room they groveled loudly for forgiveness, citing misfortune and poor understanding. You knew what their arguments would be, barely listening as they pleaded. 

“You may return to Aquilae,” you said cooly, grinning when your parents began to sing your praises before holding up your hand to silence them. “To spend the rest of your days in the dungeons, as supervised by the new regent until King Kenobi and I return or the remains of your mortal souls depart.” 

Your fathers face fell and your mother darkened with anger, their praises turning to curses until Obi-Wan waved his hand, their tongues turning to lead in their mouths. 

“You’ll have to teach me that trick,” you chuckled to him, warming when he placed his hand over yours. 

“So long as you promise not to use it against me.” 

You gave him a noncommittal shrug before straightening in your seat, a trumpet playing a short tune to announce the arrival of the next visitor to the throne room - this one needing a promotion instead of punishment. 

Commander Wolffe entered next, escorted by his betrothed. Wolffe’s long cape billowed behind him, his dress uniform neatly pressed and his hair cropped short. They both bowed before Wolffe knelt at the foot of the dias and you rose, plucking the ceremonial sword from the side of your throne and descending down the shallow steps. 

Obi-Wan stood behind you as you moved, lightly laying the blade against Wolffe’s right shoulder, your voice filling the chamber. 

“Will you, in our absence, rule Aquilae with fairness, and treat its citizens with love and respect, as you do your own?” 

“I will,” Wolffe affirmed. 

You moved your sword to his left shoulder, speaking again. 

“And will you promise to lead Aquilae with strength and wisdom, to work in her best interests, and to protect her with your whole heart?” 

“I will,” Wolffe nodded again, looking up towards you and Obi-Wan, returning your kind smiles. 

“Then rise, Commander Wolffe,” Obi-Wan beamed, “Regent of Aquilae. For your honor and bravery, we thank you, and entrust this highest honor.” 

Wolffe stood to a room full of applause, hugs shared between the four of you before he and his beloved took their place next to the dias, assisting with the remaining sentences. It was decided that Tarkin would also be sent back to Aquilae along with several other prisoners after Wolffe suggested that the Coruscanti traitors should be kept away from the other tsis leaders. 

The rest of the afternoon went smoothly, honors being given to the valiant troopers that helped drive out the tsis guards. The new contract that had been drawn to annex Ziost was signed, a regent to be assigned in the coming weeks. Your marriage contract to Obi-Wan had also been reworked during the trials, and your union became official when you each signed the paperwork, the last event of the day.

There was much rejoicing in the throne room and a feast was announced for the week’s end. As you left the throne room you turned away from the corridor that led to your chambers, bringing Obi-Wan down the hallway of healing instead. 

“Padmé tells me Anakin is healing well,” you explained and Obi-Wan nodded with a quiet hum. He never spoke the words aloud but you knew he harbored a deep regret, wishing he had seen the signs of his poisoning earlier. 

You knocked gently on the door and Anakin called you to enter, your brow lifting in surprise after going so long without hearing the low timbre of his voice. He was sitting at the table today, attempting to stand before Padmé placed a firm hand on his shoulder. He started speaking so quickly that your head spun as you tried to focus on his words. 

“Obi-Wan, Ari, I’m so sorry; I should have realized, or known, I didn’t -” 

It was Obi-Wan’s turn to raise a quieting hand, crossing the room to help Anakin to his feet, pulling him into a tight hug. 

“You’re like a brother to me. I should have known something was happening. The tsis had been quiet for too long.” 

There was still much healing to do, and Anakin had a long road of physical and mental therapy, but you had faith that he would rise above, growing stronger still. The four of you sat for a while, discussing Anakin’s treatment plans and the upcoming feast, hoping that he might be well enough to attend for a short while. 

Padmé nudged your elbow, her exuberant smile casting the whole room in gentle warmth. 

“While we’re on the subject of good news, I have something to share.” 

The three of you looked at her as she nervously drummed her fingers on the edge of the table, finally speaking again with some light encouragement. 

“I’m pregnant,” she breathed, and there was a short pause before a chorus of excited cheers filled the small room. 

The future was bright indeed. 

EPILOGUE 

Obi-Wan stood in front of his mirror, fingers picking at the edge of his collar so it laid just so. He fastened each of the glimmering buttons with a slight tremble in his hand before smoothing over the epaulettes at his shoulders, making sure they sat perfectly symmetrical. 

Hondo has outdone himself, he thought, and his mind flickered to what you must be wearing if he was dressed in this gilded white jacket. He let out a shuddering breath and pressed his fingertips to the cool glass mirror, jumping slightly at the quiet knock on his door. 

“Come in,” Obi-Wan called, straightening his coat once more as he turned from the mirror. Anakin stepped through the threshold, looking brighter than when he had been seen last. 

“You look great, master. But wait until you see what Hondo put together for Ari.” 

Dark flush crept up the back of Obi-Wan’s neck and wrapped itself around his ears, warming his cheeks with a fiery glow. He cleared his throat before rolling on the balls of his feet, offering Anakin a soft smile. 

“I’m sure she looks stunning, and I’m glad that you and Padmé will be joining us for a while.” 

Anakin nodded, his expression shifting subtly. 

“Just for dinner and the first dances, then we’ll be heading back to our rooms.” 

Obi-Wan nodded before walking to his desk and invited Anakin to sit, offering him a cup of tea that he quickly refused. 

“What’s on your mind, Anakin?” 

Anakin sat and rested his elbows on his knees, holding his cheeks in his hands. He looked so young like this despite scars he carried and as Obi-Wan sat across from him, he could tell more was on his young apprentice's mind than just fashion. 

“The healers believe Padmé is carrying twins,” Anakin offered with a weak smile, not meeting Obi-Wan’s eyes. 

He smiled and offered his congratulations, pulling his beard between his fingers before urging his friend on. “You can speak freely, Anakin.” 

He sighed before leaning back in his chair, reaching up to run his hands through his curls before stopping, Hondo’s threat of more hair gel ringing loud in his ears. 

“I can’t do this anymore Obi-Wan.” 

Anakin spoke so quietly his punched out words barely traveled across the small space between them. Obi-Wan sat forward and splayed his fingers across Anakin’s knee, urging him to continue. The words spilled out of him then, anxiety bleeding out into the air. 

“I feel so guilty about everything that happened. And I fear that when the time comes for me to ascend the throne, I won’t live up to your great leadership and the kingdom will fall, just as I nearly did. The kingdom deserves someone confident and strong and I… you never wanted me, Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon practically twisted your arm into taking me and, and - and I don’t think I was made for this type of thing. I’ve gotten better at it because I’ve had you to teach me but I want to be the husband Padmé deserves and the father I never got to have for my children. I can’t balance it all, I can’t, I know I can’t. They mean more to me than any kingdom and that’s the problem Obi I could never put them second and -” 

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan breathed, pressing into his knee to bring him back to the present. “No one blames you for the things that happened with the tsis, and if anyone is to blame, it’s me.” 

“As for Qui-Gon,” he paused, watching Anakin take a shuddering breath as he wiped away the tears that clung to his lashes. “Qui-Gon had very little to do with my choice. He saw something special in you and I did as well. You must remember how young I was when we first met - it was only a matter of time before I wanted to select you as my successor based on your own merits.” 

Anakin almost chuckled at that, muttering a half-hearted attempt at calling him an old man before he continued. 

“Your happiness is of utmost importance, Anakin. If you believe your purpose is better spent with your family, then I will support you however I can.” 

Anakin started speaking far too fast again. 

“Padmé wants to maintain her role as ambassador, however. You know what they say, can’t take the politics out of the - no, no, that’s not how it goes. Anyways, she wants to continue serving Coruscant as well as being a mother so we won’t be able to leave but we can move to smaller quarters immediately, just as soon as -” 

Obi-Wan lifted his hand and Anakin fell silent once more. 

“I won’t hear of it. Besides, you’ll be needing that extra space when the twins arrive. You may have to move some of your tinkering around.” 

He sat back with a half smile at that, chuckling when Anakin started to laugh in earnest. He had projects strewn throughout the castle, let alone in his quarters. 

“Thank you, Obi-Wan. We can discuss this again later, but I’m afraid we must get going or our wives will make their entrance without us.” 

When they stood Anakin held his hand out to shake and Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, pulling the young man into a hug. 

“You are my brother Anakin, and I love you. Thank you for telling me about this. Let us go and enjoy the evening then, hmm?” 

Anakin gave Obi-Wan an affectionate punch to the shoulder and told him he was getting soft in his old age before gliding over to the door, holding it open with a sweep of his arm. Obi-Wan huffed out a long suffering sigh, marching past him with a poorly concealed laugh. 

They walked a ways down the corridor before entering the no longer secret passageway to the council room, moving through it to enter the throne room from the side. Obi-Wan ascended the dias and Anakin stood at it’s base, smoothing his sleeves as a flourish of trumpets announced your arrival.

Padmé strode in first, the velvet of her forest green gown shining in the light. She was the picture of poise as she stood next to her husband, nodding to the guards to open the doors for you, Coruscant’s new queen. 

A hush fell over the murmuring crowd when you began your walk towards Obi-Wan, the golden lace of your gown glittering as if it had been spun from the precious metal itself. Hondo had outdone himself, cutting the gown to highlight all of your best features. You braved a glance at Obi-Wan and had expected to find him stoic, only to see his lips slightly parted as his eyes wandered up and down your frame, the tips of his ears reddening as he spun his wedding band on his finger. 

When you ascended the dias he offered you his hand, pulling you to stand next to him. He was supposed to do something - a gesture, perhaps? Make a statement? 

You couldn’t remember and apparently neither could he, because he was wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you into a kiss, the room becoming silent save for the blood rushing through your ears for those sweet fleeting seconds. When you parted you stayed close to him, not taking the meter of separation that seemed to be customary for your parents. 

He had made some kind of small speech, addressing the court and as many people from Coruscant and Aquilae as the throne room could hold - many spilling out into the hallway and standing on their tiptoes to listen. You probably should have paid more mind to what he was saying but you were transfixed by the way he spoke, watching his lips curl around every word. The wound on his lip was nearly healed, a scar likely to soon take its place. 

When you did manage to draw your gaze away from his face to look towards the crowd of people you found Malkyn and Thomas towards the front, each of them beaming from ear to ear. There were a few ambassadors you recognized and you made note to visit them at the feast, politics and all -  

It was the small amount of pressure he applied on your back that pulled you back to the present and made you bounce on your feet before you began moving forward, remembering that you and him would lead the guests to the ballroom for the great feast. 

“You look stunning, darling,” he whispered to you, pulling his hand from your waist to allow you to hold his elbow as you walked, making your way to the castle’s largest room. 

“As do you, my king. I’m glad Padmé and Anakin were able to join us for the festivities.” 

He hummed his agreement, turning his head to watch the way your eyes sparkled in the light. 

You stopped before the great doors and gave Obi-Wan a squeeze before he nodded his head to the guards. The doors swung open and you gasped seeing table after table covered in all sorts of flowers and overflowing with fruits. Everything you had picked out with Padmé was there and you were overwhelmed with all the scents and colors as you and Obi-Wan wound your way to the large central table. 

You each stood and thanked everyone for attending and announced the start of the feast to much cheering. Course after course was served and when the meal concluded you laughed when Obi-Wan began digging into a sunfruit, offering you a slice as he had in the carriage all those months ago. 

You were conversing with Padmé when the band began to play, and Obi-Wan’s calloused hand fell to your shoulder. He was standing now, rubbing his thumb in small circles when you looked up at him. 

“I do believe it’s time,” he smiled. 

You quietly groaned, dancing not often listed among your favorite activities. Padmé offered you a reassuring squeeze to the elbow as you stood. 

Conversation stopped as you and Obi-Wan found the center of the ballroom, turning to face each other. You reached out to quickly adjust the crown that had settled crooked in his auburn hair and then closed your eyes for a brief moment, letting him lead you in the first dance of the evening. His arm was low around your waist and you couldn’t help but raise your eyebrow at him - first the kiss and now his hand resting on the small of your back, far lower than when you practiced. 

“So uncivilized, your majesty,” you smirked. 

He fixed you with a smirk of his own, leaning to whisper in your ear. 

"Shall I alert the king, your highness?" 

You rolled your eyes as he spun you, a brief roll of applause alerting you to Padmé and Anakin joining the dance. 

The steps were smooth and more and more people joined, the wide open space filling with spinning gowns and floating tailcoats. The first dance came to an end with a loud flourish from the band and it was time to bid Padmé and Anakin goodnight, offering them each a kiss on the cheek. 

Once they departed you were back in Obi-Wan’s arms, slowly swaying to the music. 

"We've much to discuss," Obi-Wan mentioned, flexing his hand at the small of your back. 

"Yes, Padmé told me Ani was coming to speak with you. Perhaps tomorrow?" 

"Maybe the day after," he shrugged, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You hummed your assent and continued your steps, moving with the slow beat of the music. 

The night passed beautifully and you couldn't believe how many people had come to celebrate. You shared a dance with Thomas and partnered with Malkyn for a fast jig. At some point the younglings got bored and involved you in a game of chase, weaving in between dancers and groups of people mingling over wine. You had nearly caught Ahsoka before she dove between her grandfather's robes, nearly knocking him over in the process. 

"Sorry Poppop!" she called from under him and he laughed, scooping her up from the ground to sit her on his shoulders.

"Yes, terribly sorry Master Plo," you responded, offering him a bow, slightly out of breath. 

"Don't worry, I'm just glad to see the little ones having fun." He reached a hand up to tickle her side and she giggled wildly, her smile infectious. 

You and he talked for a few moments before she got bored again, attempting to clamber down his back to reach her friends. 

"Oh to be so young," he sighed, Ahsoka pulling at his hand as she caught sight of her friends playing hide-and-seek across the ballroom. They left you with a smile and you turned to find Obi-Wan conversing with Cody, the pair of them relaxed as they looked out over the room. 

You joined his side and just watched for a while, his hand tangled in your own. Commander Wolffe and his partner were sneaking away towards the gardens and you saw Mace laughing with Plo as the younglings played. Malkyn came to bid you goodnight and Cee took her arm when she returned. Hondo was near the bar telling his embellished version of how he and his crew dispatched several tsis guards with just nothing but his trusty fabric scissors. 

Eventually Cody was called away and Obi-Wan tugged you back towards the dance floor, wrapping you in his arms as people trickled away. Goodbyes punctuated your movements, brief exchanges before you were drawn back together. 

Before you knew it the band was packing their things and you were the only ones left, swaying quietly under the soaring roof. You were resting your head on his shoulder when you whispered his name, answered by a quiet hum as he ran his hand up your back. 

“Shall we head back? The candles are nearly out.” 

“Let’s finish this dance,” he smiled, pressing a kiss to your temple as you swayed. “There is no better love than this.” 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Series Masterlist // Masterlist

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