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crimsonlyinglilly · 3 months ago

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Bonus - Guilt

Bonus fill for @augustofwhump.

day 8 is going to be late since it's ended up and the follow on for day 10

New AU

Freedom in fur- Mikael and Esther had watched for years as Elijah failed to thrive after his birth in the middle of Esther despair over Freya. Things change after Klaus’ birth; from the first moment the newborn had reached out with a tiny hand to thin fingers. Theynever would have noticed anything if not for Esther interference a thousand years later.

Turns out there's a catch of unknowingly drawing on the power of a werewolf for a thousand years.

So a Wolf!Elijah, to sit alongside the Seal!Elijah and Raven!Elijah on my WIP pile.

Other new AU that haven’t been released to the world yet, ‘Second Chance’ the time travel fic with the oldest Mikaelson Siblings and ‘1993 the Mikaelsons in Hogwarts.’

Eventually I'll stop thinking up new ways to torment the Mikaelson siblings, right?

—-

Esther remembered Elijah's early years with a lump of fear on her chest, grief in her throat and heavy guilt on her shoulders, even now when she could place a hand on the cheek of the adult she had been sure her son wouldn’t have the chance to grow into.

Her grief and stress at losing her first born, her Freya, had almost cost her Elijah, first in the labour and then in the fragility it had marked him with.

Nothing her magic did anything to help strengthen him.

Every illness hit him hard, every cold and fever threaten to steal his breath forever. No matter how much Elijah fought to live, pushing himself from the sick bed to sit by her, dragging himself out to follow Finn, he faded.

A child’s determination was nothing to the gods plans and it seems death had already reached out, and would take her child before he turned six. Every time she sat by his bed and held the small frail hand, watching as he struggled to draw breath, wondering if each shakey rise of his chest would be his last.

Yet that hadn’t happened.

As Klaus grew within her Elijah would lay beside her and whisper to his unborn sibling, of promise that she was sure he wouldn’t be able to keep.

Klaus’s birth was a moment of celebration, a bright healthy child, it seemed to even give Elijah a new burst of strength. Esther had expected that to fail eventually and that even in that bright moment of life she had been sure she would be burying her little Elijah before the end of the year yet it didn’t, Elijah grew and strengthened.

With Niklaus’ birth it wasn’t just Mikael’s light that returned, the illnesses that had stalked Elijah vanished and he grew stronger, by the time Klaus said his first word Elijah appeared a healthy child, free of the spectre of death that had followed him all his life.

Months later Ansel explained her miracle, how her new baby had unknowingly given his older brother the help he needed to live, when she warned Ansel that Niklaus was Mikael’s, of course he knew the truth but accepted the need to stay away from him.

He explained the rare gift within the werewolf families, normally between parents and a fragile child, that a link, a bond, would form to strengthen the child until they could survive on their own or their own curse was triggered to help free them from the weakness, while the wolf sustaining them would grow stronger to support and protect them.

He had warned her that as Elijah wasn’t a wolf, he would likely forever be relying on Niklaus’ strength unless he unknowingly found another way.

She held her miracle baby closer that night, a new knowledge of how her second son was finally thriving weighted down with the fact that losing Klaus would cost her two children.

Esther had tried to encourage Elijah to learn her dark arts, hoping Elijah would find a way to draw strength from nature as she had watched the elder witches once do but Elijah had little interest in it and it soon became far easier to let him watch his siblings while she taught Finn and later Kol.

The link between Klaus and Elijah grew even if neither of them knew it was there. The necklace she created to protect Klaus from his own curse had the added benefit of hiding their link from any of the other wolves from noticing.

She had thought it broke with the immortality spell, she may have made her children monsters but she should have finally freed Elijah from his weakness. And yet she noticed as she sealed Niklaus’s werewolf side the bond between them still stood, Klaus unknowingly keeping Elijah strong.

A thousand years later it was still there even if neither of them knew of it.

Now she would have to break it, give Elijah no choice, he would accept her plan and a new body to escape the weakness that would have killed him as a child or he would be too weak to resist when she did it for him.

“What are you doing?” Elijah asked as his eyes tacked over the collection of ingredients for her latest spell, she could see him working out what the purpose of the spell was. Even thought he had never showed much interest in learning her craft, her bright boy had always remember her lessons and had no doubt continued to do the same of the witches he worked with over the centuries.

Knowledge he would use to protect his siblings better like she had taught him, even as he was tapped alone with her and weakened by her doll to prevent him from breaking the chain he was still thinking to protect them

He had grown up so strong and she was going to strip that from him.

“You would not have lived beyond your sixth year,” she explained to him, smiling at his confusion, she knew it was unlikely remembered half his illnesses “but when Niklaus was born and you started to breathe normally, started to grow alongside him, it was a miracle that his blood father later explained to me.”

“What tale are you telling now?” he said in a bored tone, appearing unbothered but she knew her children; his apathy hid his nerves the way Kol’s jokes and carefree attitude and Niklaus' anger covered theirs.

“In the werewolf packs, on rare occasions sometimes they could form bonds to share power, to protect and sustain a weakened member of the pack; an injured elder, sicken mate or most commonly a frail child.” she told him

“Niklaus was a baby.” Elijah narrowed his eyes and he caught onto what she was implying. “And I'm not a werewolf.”

“But you were a fading witch of his blood and he was born a wolf without his back, through some miracle he latched onto you and you lived.” she replied, the memory of her relief when Elijah reached seven, then eight, then nine and onwards filling her heart as she couldn’t stop herself from reaching out with both hands to cup his face.

She stared at his face as his brown eyes stared back, defiantly, the man she had once never dreamed he’d have the chance to grow into.

Elijah had been the first of her children to favour Dahlia but his eyes were her own, something she always forgot until he matched her glare, soon none of that would matter when he had a new body.

One without the weakness she was accidentally caused, one where he could have the family he always wanted.

“I’m sorry I twisted a gift your brother gave you and now I must break it to convince you to let me fix it.” She apologised as she drew back and without another word finished her spell drawing the wolfbane coated silver knife thought the bowl of Elijah’s blood watching as the bright crimson liquid twisted and dulled.

As the blood started to dry out at an unnatural speed she pulled the doll to her with magic and dropped it in the bowl.

Before he could try to escape now the doll had been removed, he froze, she watched as Elijah seemed to choke on air for a moment, then he suddenly flinched, shuddered and sagged slightly in the chains.

“What did you do?” he asked, fear appearing in his voice, she hated making her children scared but if she must for their own good she would, “what was that?” he spoke again and she caught the tremor in his voice. She wondered if he had felt the bond between the break, the thread that had been unknowingly drawing strength for all his memory.

“I failed you before you were born, that body was damaged before you took your first breath and instead of trying to fix that, I relied on Niklaus’ gift. Now let me make up for my failures and accept my offer of a new body.”

“No-”

“My son-” she started.

“Don’t lie to me, claiming that this is for my sake,” Elijah glared at her, voice clear and sharp even as she notices the shakiness of his breathing, “ you're just trying to assure your own guilt.”

“You were always so strong.” she smiled sadly, the memory of her tiny dark hair toddler dragging himself out of what should have been his deathbed countless times, “but even you, couldn’t beat your own body, I'll come back later.” she told him before stepping back, she had spent too long watching him fade in childhood to repeat that pain.

The doll sat in a dried bowl of long dead blood, no longer holding Elijah back as he didn’t have the strength to break the chains on his own.

#augustofwhump #augustofwhump2024 #Alt Prompt #Guilt #esther mikaelson #elijah mikaelson #fanfiction #the originals #the vampire diaries #fic #tvd fanfiction #AU - Freedom in Fur #Esther pov is so fun as she believes what she's doing is for the best while failing at being a mother several time over.

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taintedbloodlines · 1 year ago

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This was the man who helped bring Klaus Mikaelson into this world. It was a knee jerk reaction to hold that against him even though logically she knew he was not responsible for shaping him into the monster he had become.

(in fact she couldn't help but wonder if Ansel had been allowed to parent Klaus if things would be drastically different)

Bonnie told herself it was not fair to hold Klaus' crimes against the man who had come to her aid. He had been respectful even as she threw her obvious distrust in his face. It was different for wolves and witches, at least for her. She felt an easier affinity for them --- they both seemed to have such a keen connection to nature it was hard not to soften to him. But still, he was Klaus' father in the end and she had to wonder what kind of loyalty that inspired.

"What other choice do I have?" she asked. "They need me." Always. Her friends had a habit of getting in over their heads and she was the one who could pull them back from the brink. "I can't turn my back on that. I just...I need to study, find ways to strengthen what I already have." She would find a solution. It was not like there were many other options to consider.

She furrowed her brows as he came at her again, playing on her need to keep her friends alive. She couldn't help but laugh a little. "That is pretty clever, actually. Using my friends' fate to try and make me watch my own. It's a compelling argument." She took a deep breath, knowing the answer to his question. "I'm just...tired that's all. Tired." And with that she sat down on the ground because the idea of attempting to find a more suitable place seemed exhausting.

HE CAN’T HELP ADMIRE THE DEDICATION. ⸻ but then, ansel has never been blind nor 𝚒𝚐𝚗𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚝 to the 𝘸𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 that is witches. they truly were the strongest of them all & he won’t pretend otherwise. he’s known many throughout his life, though not all stood with the 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡 he sees this particular bennett witch hold. she is unique, he can tell. head bows respectfully, as if accepting her words and for a moment, it appeared argument was over, but wolf soon finds voice again, speaking in soft tone rather than 𝚓𝚞𝚍𝚐𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝. " you cannot keep those you love alive if you 𝗲𝘅𝗵𝗮𝘂𝘀𝘁 yourself, and then who will they turn to in your absence? " 𝘩𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦. as an alpha, the pack’s life rests on his shoulders. he too would do whatever it took to 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚝 them, but life experience ( as well as death / once cut short because he ran into harm’s way unprepared ) has taught him 𝐫𝐞��𝐤𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 might not always be the best way to defend. " you’re no good to anyone, least of all the friends who appear so dependent on you, injured. you’re certainly no use to them dead. keeping yourself alive keeps them alive. " he doesn’t expect her to listen to him. bonnie seems like an 𝗶𝗺𝗺𝗼𝘃𝗮𝗯𝗹𝗲 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝗺, determined & ready to power through, and it isn’t as if she has reason to trust him after the terrors klaus once unleashed on mystic falls. guilty by association, he supposes, or in this case; 𝚐𝚞𝚒𝚕𝚝𝚢 𝚋𝚢 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚜. deep breath in, he holds it for a moment before soft eyes narrow in genuine concern. " are you okay? "

#northsalpha #( ch: bonnie bennett )#( the monster in queue )

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kylermalloy · 5 years ago

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Currently thinking about tiny Klaus, maybe five or six years old, coming across his biological father in the woods by their village.

Obviously Klaus has no idea who he is, but Ansel’s been watching and knows exactly who this is. Esther has forbidden him to speak to the boy, but who would be the wiser?

Anyway, Ansel wants to know absolutely everything about Niklaus but has to limit himself to just a few questions—about Mikael, about home, about what he likes to do.

To little Klaus, it’s such an inconsequential thing. But to Ansel, it’s everything. And it’s painful—because Niklaus can never know the truth, and Ansel can never truly know his son.

#the originals #original groupies #klaus mikaelson #ansel #maybe this will turn into a full-fledged fic one day #ugh it’s such a fascinating dynamic to think about #ansel wanting so desperately to know his child #or at least know that he’s safe and happy #but from what he sees of mikael he isn’t sure that can be the case #and little niklaus flinches and locks up at mikael’s name #then elijah who’s only a little older comes to collect niklaus #and he’s gentle and caring and everything a big brother should be #and ansel breathes a little easier #(leave me alone okay klelijah is my whole heart)#kylerrambles

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rhysismydaddy · 3 years ago

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Prisoner's Game Pt. 3 (Rowaelin)

~Aelin~

There was something decidedly pleasant about sneaking out of prison.

It was the thrill, she supposed.

She'd always been a bit of an adrenaline junky, and there was nothing that matched up to the excitement of breaking out of a maximum security prison with no one being the wiser.

Aelin ran through the tunnel, her steps sure and soundless, a smile blooming on her face. What she was doing shouldn't give her such joy, but along with being a thrill seeker, she'd always been just a little bit vindictive.

Or maybe a lot.

The map of the tunnels was still crystal clear after all this time, and she had it memorized down to the number of steps it took to get to the right turn.

It was a three hour run. Two underground, then one through the city out into the suburbs.

While the first two hours were definitely not fun, it was the last hour that was tricky.

Avoiding cameras, not drawing any unwanted attention, dressing so no one could see her face without looking too much like the criminal she was.

It was also more exhausting.

It was an hour of sprinting across rooftops, sprinting through town, then sprinting some more.

It was a little funny to her that the journey to where she needed to go was more difficult than actually breaking into the building.

She had a set of scrubs stored in a nearby lockbox, along with a wig and a few prosthetics to make her look more like Ansel, one of the nurses working the night shift.

The security guard, Shelly, was prone to reading romance novels during her shift and never questioned why she occasionally thought she saw two of the same person wandering around.

It was no different tonight.

Once she had everything in place, Aelin strode confidently through the halls, grabbing charts and nodding like she knew what the hell she was looking at.

No one stopped her, no one questioned her.

When she got to the room and chart she wanted, she slipped inside soundlessly and crept up to the bed.

Despite the ever-present urge to hurry things along, she stuck to her plan and kept the dose the same.

The person on the bed never woke up, never noticed her slip an extra drug into the IV bag hanging on the wall.

Silent, efficient, traceless.

Just like she'd been taught.

Leaving was even easier than entering.

She waited until real-Ansel had been out of the guard's sight for a while, then walked out the back door of the facility like she hadn't just committed a felony.

One of the few crimes she actually deserved to be in prison for, ironically.

Then she ran back, hiding in the traffic camera's blind spots and ditching the wig along the way.

It was a little stupid and drawn out to do it this way, not to mention unbelievably cruel, but Aelin had always had a flair for the dramatic.

Plus, like she said: exciting.

~Rowan~

Doubt is a strange emotion.

It starts small, so small you hardly even realize it's there.

And then, over time, it grows and grows like a fungus, eventually becoming something that you think about all the time. Something that kills you.

Rowan didn't believe in doubt.

His problem had never been with not believing in himself, it'd always been with the opposite affliction: over-conviction.

He believed things so fully, so deeply, it was hard to see it any other way.

It was what made him such a good lawyer. As the top public prosecutor in the city, he had a reputation for being impossible to win against.

He convinced himself of the defendant's guilt so completely, the jury had almost no option but to believe him.

He hadn't always been that way, he didn't think. Argumentative and stubborn, sure. His mother could attest to that. But never so unflinchingly self-assured. So alright with deceiving himself if need be.

If he had to guess, he'd say it'd started two months after the day of Aelin's trial.

He hadn't been lying to her four days ago; every word had been the truth. He'd worked his ass off all those years ago, trying to find something that would help him either clear her name or at least fucking sleep at night.

He'd given himself a timeline, deciding that if he couldn't find a single lead in two months, there probably wasn't one. Two months, and then he'd let it go.

He didn't regret stopping his hunt--he'd seen what an obsession could do to someone.

And when that day had come, he'd thought he was ready. He'd exhausted himself working both her case and the ones he was assigned, burning the candle at both ends and sleeping in the office more nights than his own bed.

There'd been nothing to be found. The evidence, the testimonies, the medical examiner's reports... they'd all pointed to Aelin.

So eventually he'd forced himself to stop looking.

But the sight of her swinging between the two court police officers, fighting for just one more second with him with a desperation he'd never seen from her... he hadn't known how he could just forget something like that.

The image followed him, haunted him. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw hers. Lined with tears and disbelief and so much hurt he felt like invisible hands were wrapped around his neck.

So he'd hardened himself against it.

He'd repeated the pieces of evidence against her, told himself she was guilty until the words were easy to say, forced himself to visualize the crime scenes of her victims whenever he thought of her.

Piece by piece, he'd swapped out the months of positive memories they had with stone cold facts.

And it had worked.

After a month, he could sleep again. After a year, he hardly thought of her and when he did, it was with disgust.

Yet now, over eight years later, he found himself with just the slightest amount of doubt again.

It was the same nagging, incessant feeling he hadn't been able to shake eight years ago. Back for round two, apparently.

At first, he'd played it off as nerves from their conversation. She'd worked him up so much he'd admitted how much he'd once loved her and said things he shouldn't have.

His body was reacting to the sadness in her eyes, the surprise that had bloomed when he'd told her he'd fought for her. It was emotion, nothing based in logic, that made him want to start looking again.

At least that's what he told himself.

But four days later, he found himself on the couch--he really did need to give up and just buy a new bed--staring at the ceiling, trying to sleep and not being able to.

Because... well because what if she was telling the truth?

Why else would she have told him that story?

What had he missed during all those late nights spent hunched over her folder?

The questions grew and grew, until that once-little shard of doubt started to slowly drive him mad.

The uncertainty, no matter how small it had begun, had grown to be almost irritatingly large and unavoidable.

He couldn't stop thinking about what she'd said. The breadcrumbs that apparently only he could find.

What did that mean?

And why couldn't he just let it go?

"Fuck!" he yelled, throwing his blanket off and storming to the closet.

Like a love-struck idiot, he'd kept a box full of the stuff she'd left at his apartment during their relationship. The stuff that wasn't evidence, at least.

If it was something only he could find like she'd said, it was probably something only he had access to.

He dropped the box on his kitchen table and opened the lid.

Then cursed when the first thing he saw was a pair of red lace underwear. That was the last thing he needed to be thinking about and remembering.

Especially when he'd barely been able to resist the temptation to kiss her in that interrogation room.

Something about the way she'd looked at him after he'd told her he'd fought for her all those years ago had rattled the grip he had on his control hard.

She'd seemed so... sad. So hopeless. It had brought out the urge to comfort her in whatever way he could.

Hearing about her childhood and how she'd been raised by Arobynn Hamel hadn't made it any better. Truthfully, it'd broken something inside of him.

She'd always been so positive around him--a ray of light he'd felt was put on this earth just for him.

And all the while, she'd been forced to live with and work for one of the most notorious crime syndicate members of all time.

He'd always known she hadn't had a good childhood, but there was a difference between foster care hell and an actual house of horrors. Rowan couldn't even imagine the things she'd seen. Been forced to see, to do.

She made it out, he reminded himself, taking a deep breath.

But had she?

If what she'd told him was true, she'd killed those people because she'd been forced to.

It hadn't been her choice.

But there was something else about her, something he couldn't stop thinking about.

The secret she'd eluded to, the one that apparently only he had the key to solving.

A secret she'd promised would explain everything.

He tossed the underwear on the table, vowing to ignore them.

Then threw them in the trash a minute later when that became impossible.

You're such an asshole, he told himself, shaking his head. It's been eight years.

Even if that part of their relationship was most definitely memorable.

"Jesus," he laughed, running a hand over his face. Why was he even thinking about that?

Maybe it was the look in her eyes four days ago, or maybe it was simply that Aelin had been an important part of his life. He'd never forget the connection they'd had. Maybe it would always be a part of him.

But that was ridiculous, because he'd been connected to plenty of women since. Plenty of gorgeous brunettes and redheads.

For some reason, he hadn't been able to date a blonde, but that didn't mean anything.

He was over her.

Obviously.

Forcing his thoughts away from Aelin, he grabbed the next thing in the box.

Her address book. Maybe she'd left a note in there?

He flipped it open, scrolling through blank page after blank page. Her cousin's address and phone number were there--both of which he confirmed with police records--but other than that, it was blank.

The next thing he found made the ache in his chest expand to a soul-sucking hole.

It was a travel brochure for Aruba.

The edges were frayed from how much she'd flipped through it, and notes in her handwriting were scribbled throughout the pages.

He remembered this, all right.

He'd woken up one morning, a morning that seemed like a lifetime ago, to find her laying on top of him, leafing through the travel pamphlet with a huge grin on her face.

"We're going to Aruba," she'd whispered in lieu of a greeting, leaning down to press her lips to his.

"Why?" he'd asked back between kisses.

"Because it's the perfect place to hide from your real life," had been her laughed response.

She'd planned a trip for them at Christmas. Their very first trip together.

Every time they saw each other, she'd shown him a new page or told him about a new activity she wanted to do.

In general, she was a happy, excited person, but he'd never seen her so thrilled over anything like she was that trip.

He'd hidden it better, trying to play it cool, but he'd been excited, too.

He'd pictured her on the beach, running in the sand and smiling and laughing and drinking from a coconut. He'd imagined sneaking to the beach one night and making love to her in the ocean.

He'd imagined getting down on one knee and asking her to be his travel partner for life.

She'd been arrested two weeks before they were supposed to leave.

He tossed the little magazine back into the box, shaking his head to clear it of the memories and long-lost dreams.

The only thing left in the worn box was books.

Aelin had volunteered at a publishing house, trying to get hired as a fiction editor, and she'd always had a book in her ridiculously heavy pocket book.

She'd given him a few of her favorites, claiming that if he ever wanted to know the "real her," he had to read them.

A statement that made a lot more sense now than it used to.

He grabbed the one on top and leafed through it, going through the pages and scanning.

When that didn't yield anything, he flipped to the back of the book and looked at the inscription she'd written him.

March 1

Rowan,

I know you're not a fan of fiction, let alone romantic, feminist fiction, but I hope you'll read this and fall in love with Elizabeth's character like I did.

Aelin

He turned the book over and looked at the front again, then flipped through it again, then went through the whole process again.

Why did he feel like something about this didn't add up? And why was this, of all things, what she'd left as a breadcrumb?

He didn't figure it out until he reread the inscription for the fifth time and realized the date she'd written.

March 1st.

It was wrong; she'd given him this book on his birthday in February. He remembered because he'd laughed about her giving a grown man a romance novel for his birthday.

Why had she put March 1st? And why did that date stand out in his mind?

Stomach dropping, he finally figured out why that date was so important. It was the date of the first murder.

Maddison Kliff, a state senator who controversially wanted to fund renewable energy in the upcoming year, had been murdered the morning of March 1st eight years ago.

Breadcrumb.

He grabbed the next book from the stack, Wuthering Heights, and flipped to the end.

Almost the exact same inscription, except the date was April 13th, and the inspiring character was Linton Heathcliff.

April 13th was the day another victim died.

Rowan's heart started pounding, so hard he thought he was going to either pass out or go into cardiac arrest.

What was the connection between these dates, characters, and victims? Rowan could feel it in his gut that this was what she'd been talking about. It had to be.

He flipped through the books again, looking for something else, but there was nothing there. Nothing was underlined or highlighted, and the books were all in brand-new condition, no pages were bookmarked.

"What are you trying to tell me, Aelin?" he whispered, rubbing at his temples.

He made a list of all the dates and characters, stared at it until he thought he'd go blind, and tried to think like her.

Except her mind was a complex puzzle he'd never quite solved, so that didn't give him anything besides a headache.

He looked in the box again, hoping to magically find another note or something that explained everything in simple, idiot-proof terms.

But all that was there was that damn Aruba magazine.

It's the perfect place to hide from your real life.

The words came rushing back to him, so suddenly and violently it was like his subconscious had been shouting it for a while.

Was that it?

Maybe the connection wasn't only between the dates and characters, but it also had something to do with Aruba.

Maybe that was where this secret, whatever it was, was hiding.

Knowing he was probably grasping at straws, Rowan grabbed his phone and called the one person who'd help him.

"What the hell do you want?"

"I need a favor, Gavriel."

He heard a heavy sigh. "Like a we've been friends for twenty years favor or like an I'm the Chief of Police favor?"

"The latter," Rowan answered.

"Dammit, Rowan, you're going to get me fired one day." That was what he said every time. There was a long pause, then, "What do you need?"

"Flight manifests from Rifthold to Aruba from ten different days eight years ago."

Gavriel caught on quickly. "This wouldn't happen to have anything to do with a former flame of yours, would it? One currently serving time for ten murders from eight years ago?"

"Of course not," he lied, knowing he was busted.

Another sigh. "You need to let this go, kid."

Rowan ran a hand over his face, knowing that wasn't possible. Not when, for the first time since he'd been assigned this God forbidden case, he had a lead.

"Can you help me or not?"

"I will, as long as you promise to drop it once whatever you're chasing ends up to be yet another dead end."

Knowing he didn't have another choice, Rowan agreed.

Gavriel told him he'd send them over, then said softly, "I know you loved her, Rowan, but it's time to move on."

It's not that easy, he thought, thinking once again of Aelin sitting in that tiny cell, skin pale and hair too long.

"Thanks for your help," he said instead, hanging up before the lecture could continue.

A few minutes later, he was printing out the passenger lists from all the Rifthold to Aruba flights on each of the ten dates.

Starting with August 1st, he went through, passenger by passenger, and looked for an Elizabeth.

There'd been three direct flights to Aruba that day, so by the time he found it, his eyes were so tired he almost missed it entirely.

But there was a name that stuck out, one that was straight out of his copy of Pride and Prejudice.

Seat 14C had been occupied by Elizabeth Darcy, and she'd flown directly from Rifthold to Aruba on August 1st.

Rowan's jaw damn near hit the floor.

His hands shook as he highlighted the name, writing the victim's name next to it to keep it straight in his head.

His mind whirled with possible explanations, but he didn't let himself think about anything except the next date.

With a sinking feeling in his gut, he went through the passenger list for April 13th.

And sure enough, Linton Heathcliff was on one of the flights. In the same damn seat.

"Holy fuck," he whispered, grabbing the next sheet of paper.

He went date by date, flight by flight, and by the time he'd located every character, he was sure of what he'd found. What she'd left for him.

It wasn't a breadcrumb, it was the whole goddamn loaf.

Rowan barely made it to the kitchen sink before his stomach emptied as an explanation of what had really happened eight years ago started to form in his mind.

He didn't have all the pieces, but the ones he did have made him literally sick to think about.

Her insistence on being innocent, her begging him to look again, telling him only he could find the clues... it all made sense.

The doubt he'd been struggling with for eight long years suddenly disappeared, replaced by a certainty so swift and thorough and all encompassing, it almost took his breath away.

She hadn't been lying.

She hadn't killed those ten people.

She couldn't have, because...

"They're still alive."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

dun dun duuuuun

part 4 out next Friday (sorry for the slow updates I'm in summer school)

@audreycressworth @whimsicallyreading @onceupona-chaos @lil-unoriginal-weirdo-273sole @surielandiareendgame @captain-swan-is-endgame @poisonous00 @vasudharaghavan @sailorsassley @endlessdaydream @swankii-art-teacher @beanco8 @stokingthemidnightflame @mis-lil-red @ladyfireheart-and-buzzard @sheharahu @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @jorjy-jo @court-of-dreams-and-ashes @perseusannabeth @cursebreaker29 @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @live-the-fangirl-life @ireallyshouldsleeprn @highqueenofelfhame @loudphantomdragon @gracie-rosee @rowaelinismyotp @nahthanks @ghostlyrose2 @lovemollywho @inardour @tillyrubes10 @claralady @tswaney17 @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @thegoddessofyou @awesomelena555 @booksofthemoon @greerlunna @jlinez @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @maastrash @aesthetics-11 @bamchickawowow @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace

#rowaelin #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan whitehorn #rowan x aelin #aelin galythinius #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfiction #throne of glass fandom

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actuallylorelaigilmore · 2 years ago

Text

2022 MOVIE OF THE WEEK #28

west side story. okay, so this was an EXPERIENCE. i could write many essays about different elements of this movie, it gave me so many thoughts and feelings and stayed with me for a long time after. i’ll try to keep the review short though because for once i am aware in advance of my wish to ramble endlessly.

i have seen the original movie, but didn’t grow up with any sondheim musicals, so my introduction to the classic was via @actuallylukedanes many years ago. that meant i had to rely on their memory when i wanted to compare this version to that one--we watched it together. i’m sure there were parts of the original i liked, but i don’t remember which now, because it didn’t become a regular part of my own viewing habits.

all i knew about this one going in was that they had created a new role specifically for rita moreno, that it starred oscar-winner and true fave ariana debose (who was my only real reason for watching it) and that i wasn’t familiar with the actor playing tony but that i had not encountered positive reactions to his performance. the only unsurprising part of actually watching it was that ariana debose WAS truly amazing, exactly as heartwrenching and full of life and color as i expected.

rita moreno’s role was way bigger than i had anticipated. plus i had no idea she was also an executive producer or that they would take ‘somewhere’ away from its original performers in the first movie and give it to her here. the layers she brings to it and the way the meaning changes...in her hands, it was painful but also glorious. i did not know that i wanted 88-year-old rita moreno executive producing and becoming the complex moral center of this movie while singing somewhere but i very much did.

and as for ansel elgort, he starts out being cute with rita moreno, but the moment he began singing...my jaw actually dropped. leander and i rewound and rewatched a few parts of this, and only a couple of them were ariana at my request--multiple moments were his performance, and we were in agreement that whoever gave me the impression that he sucked was just wrong. he didn’t have great chemistry with maria, but he sparked off riff like crazy (whether he was supposed to or not), so i don’t think he’s bad at that in general.

more importantly, he sounds like an old movie musical star when he sings--especially in the moments when they’re not blatantly autotuning him for some criminal reason. whenever you can hear him get breathing room to sound raw and have those little flaws that come with uncorrected singing, it was beautiful. in exactly the kind of way that makes me love musicals. (the last time i felt that way was when i first heard live action gaston, luke evans, hilarious compared to this, but true.)

the rest of the cast was great. riff was a special favorite of mine, the actor taking his relatively short resume and fighting to steal every scene he was in. brian d’arcy james as officer krupke continued his career of showing up in musicals in NON-SINGING ROLES which is just insane but i love him anyway. the actor who played bernardo really did have chemistry with ariana, which i enjoyed--it made their ending more affecting and her downward spiral easier to follow.

i loved the music, though some songs more than others. (the police station performance left me undecided, they were definitely doing a lot there but i’m not sure i liked it.) predictably, america was my favorite, but for every element of it and not just ariana--i loved the colors and the way it spilled out into the street like the people couldn’t be contained and anita’s charged give-and-take with bernardo. a great ensemble act on every level.

the ways they chose to modernize the musical without changing the setting were fascinating to me, because it really does feel like an older musical that just happened to use modern technology. i’m not sure what else i expected stylistically, but it was comforting to realize it would feel like a classic.

however, for me their story choices didn’t always result in coherence? it’s like, they wanted to be more sensitive and inclusive while also paying tribute to the original, but if you think the original needs updating you can’t both keep it and make it into something else. there’s a real tension there, and it left me with questions about what the movie was trying to say about race and violence and identity.

some of the changes seemed very cool while we watched, but by the time the tragic end arrived, treating it as inevitable felt like a let down. they put so much creativity into finding places where they could be kinder or more interesting, then barreled right for the same ending as though being a remake was enough to explain the characters’ ultimate downfalls whether it made sense for these versions of them or not.

anyway like i said i could go on about this movie forever. but my overall conclusion about it is that it was genuinely heartbreaking, which is the only reason i wouldn’t be likely to watch it a lot--i love musicals enough to wear them out, but i’ve never been a big fan of tragedies. it was also beautiful, though, (besides the opening shot which was bizarrely gritty and i’m still upset about it) and the performances were incredible.

i wasn’t expecting it to be a really good remake, and i definitely approached it more as its own film rather than as a fan of the original, but i loved it. i’ll watch it again someday, when i feel like big emotions and a sincere cry.

#okay this was still super long #but believe me if i had gotten into detail on even more characters and all the musical numbers and the other elements individually #as well as random things that stood out to me and what left me with questions...i would never be done #i'm thrilled instead because with this i am caught up on movie reviews! (the one i watched after this already has a review ready to post)#west side story #ariana grande #ansel elgort #rita moreno #brian d'arcy james #2022 motw #actuallylukedanes #i have the best best friend

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springsaladgaming · 4 years ago

Note

Hello! How would the RO's react if MC gave them good morning kisses but one day just forgot?

Here you go, anon! In close 3rd POV of the ROs because I felt like it.

Snippets below the cut!

Ansel - Unless MC forgot because they were visibly stressed out or not feeling well, this isn’t something that would make Ansel concerned or react in any particular way, in which case…

Something was bothering ${pc_name}. Ansel had no clue what it was. He wasn’t even sure if ${pc_name} knew either, but he knew stress when he saw it. He could see it in the way they lingered in bed a little longer than normal, in the way they stood in front of the mirror for a few long minutes looking at the circles under their eyes.

Normally ${pc_name} was affectionate in the morning, but Ansel, in an effort to make ${pc_name} feel better, decided to turn the tables for once. He stood behind ${pc_name}, wrapped them in an embrace, and just held them there. ${pc_name} leaned into the hug, and they stayed that way until ${pc_name} was feeling better.

Teagan

Teagan felt off, and it wasn’t until after he was finished instructing his morning class that he noticed it. Did he feel sick? Not really, he felt just the same as always. He didn’t eat breakfast, but that was no different from normal. Skipping something in his routine wasn’t something that usually bothered him, but there must have been something today.

He was halfway through his lunch, when he found himself thinking about ${pc_name}, that he realized what the problem was. No kiss this morning. He hadn’t even known that it was a routine thing until now. He was just used to it, so used to it that he felt the absence before he knew the reason for it.

Teagan would have to remember it from now on, to be the one to initiate it in case ${pc_name} ever forgot again.

Alex - Bold of you to assume Alex would ever let them forget.

${pc_name} was spacey this morning, and Alex couldn’t help but think that it was cute watching them scurrying around their apartment frantically getting ready for work. Back and forth, back and forth. Alex had mornings like that sometimes, but they doubted they were as adorable as ${pc_name} was being right now.

At the end of it all, they weren’t even running late, but ${pc_name} practically tried to rush out the door as if they were. Alex pulled them away from the door with a hand around their waist. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” they said.

${pc_name} looked at them with confusion for a moment until Alex pulled them in close. Breath mingled before their lips found one another, and the kiss was somehow as hungry as it was tender. When they finally pulled apart, both a little short of breath, ${pc_name} said, “What was that for?”

Alex grinned their familiar wicked grin and replied, “We always do that in the morning. Well, maybe not like that, but…” Alex chuckled as the confusion didn’t seem to clear from their face. They really had no idea.

Cherry

There was nothing wrong, Cherry could tell, but she still felt wistful when ${pc_name} didn’t greet her by sharing their usual kiss. ${pc_name} didn’t seem to notice they were doing anything different, and Cherry wasn’t sure if she should say anything.

Her voice decided for her before her brain could catch up. “Um,” she managed to squeeze out, but she stopped herself before ${pc_name} could hear it.

Except it seemed they heard her anyway by the way they turned to look at her with a quizzical brow.

Before they had a chance to ask, Cherry shook her head and said, “It’s nothing.” ${pc_name} smiled and she knew they didn’t buy it, so she tried to ignore the flush in her cheeks and quickly kissed them on the cheek. She didn’t wait to see their reaction before she turned and went about her business.

Lucia - Who just forgets the morning kisses? Not Lucia. She never gives MC a chance.

${pc_name} was beautiful and vibrant this morning, just like they were every morning. Just like they were every day since the very day Lucia met them. She grinned at them as they came into the cafe, and from the blush on their cheeks Lucia guessed that they already knew what was coming.

She caught them in an embrace before they could even get out a word of hello, as usual, and lovingly rubbed her fingers on the back of their neck as she gave them the softest of kisses, just a light tickle of lips.

Then, with her arms still wrapped around their neck and a glowing smile on her face, she said, “Good morning, gorgeous.”

Rene

Maybe Rene was a worrywort, but when ${pc_name} didn’t give him their usual morning kiss, he immediately assumed something was wrong. He had no clue what it could be, but he figured the least he could do was make their day easier by helping them get some work done.

Rene was a guest often, so it wasn’t strange for him to do little chores around ${pc_name}’s apartment, but ${pc_name} seemed to notice a difference. They stopped him midway through folding a load of laundry. “What’s with you being so helpful this morning?” they asked.

“Oh, no reason,” Rene said with a smile. “It just seemed like you needed it today.”

“What? Why?”

“Oh, well…” Rene scratched his cheek and made a vague gesture as he grinned. “Never mind,’ he said, and he gave ${pc_name} a kiss on the cheek before going back to folding.

#ninelives wip #ninelives IF #ninelives ROs #Anonymous

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elentiyawhitethorn · 4 years ago

Text

Sneaking Around | Chapter Eight

Ansel looked like she was about to have a nervous breakdown. “OHMYGODSAREYOUFUCKINGROWAN?!?!”

Aelin grabbed her phone from Ansel. The message read, Would you like to go out to dinner tomorrow?

Ignoring Ansel’s screetching, she replied, sure. im free anytime after six. That would give her almost a full day to convince Ansel to keep her mouth shut. Easier said than done. you might as well pick me up at my door. Ansel found out

Shit. was his response.

yeah i have to deal with that now

Have fun.

thanks for the support, jerk

Aelin then set down her phone and looked at Ansel with a calmness she didn’t even know she possessed. “Yes,” she said simply.

Ansel’s mouth dropped open even farther. “But. You. Hate. Him. And what about your secret lover boy?” When Aelin didn’t reply to this, Ansel yelled, “WHAT?!?! ARE YOU DATING ROWAN?!?! IS HE-”

Aelin just said, “Chill.”

“CHILL? HOW DO I CHILL RIGHT NOW?”

“You could start by stopping with the screaming.”

Ansel glowered at Aelin. “I think I know I know exactly how this is going to go. You’re going to do everything in your power to silence me. Begging, blackmailing, whatever it takes. So I have a proposal for you.” To Aelin’s questioning look she added, “I will not tell a soul about this if you tell me everything. I want the details.”

Aelin sighed. Of course she did. There really was no way to get out of this. “Sit.”

They sat on the couch. Ansel was still staring at Aelin like she had grown a third eye. “How the hell did this happen?”

Aelin explained the hookup, the morning after, and the ride home. The flirting at work, the date. Meeting at his place after hanging out with everybody. Going there after work yesterday, sending him to spy on Lys and the twins, and then this morning’s awkward “I like you.” It was surprisingly nice to get it all off her chest.

By the time she finished, Ansel appeared to have entered a state of shock. “But. Wait. Oh my gods. You. What. Oh my gods.”

Aelin suppressed her sigh this time. “Ansel... I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, truly, I am. But I really like him.”

Ansel sobered. “You like him,” she whispered. Having seemed to have finally wrapped her mind around it, she squealed. “Aw, you guys are so cute together! This is fate. I am involved now and you can do nothing to get rid of me.” Great. This would be fun.

Ansel insisted on preparing Aelin for her date the next day. As fussy as she was, she knew how to pick an outfit. Aelin was dressed in a deep green, velvety, flowing dress. It showed a fair amount in the front and back. A light layer of makeup was applied, including a cherry-red lipstick. Aelin’s hair was done up in a simple but pretty style, flowing around and then down her back.

It was six on the dot when there was a knock on door. Before Aelin could do anything, Ansel ran over and opened it. “Rowan, what a lovely surprise. Come in.”

“Ansel, butt out.” Aelin pitied the man on the end of Ansel’s prying.

Rowan smiled, then stepped inside. “Hello, ladies.” He was wearing a nice suit, not the same one as last time, though. Aelin was pleasantly surprised to find he had more than one. Rowan raised an eyebrow at Ansel.

Ansel smirked. “We made a deal. Silence for information.”

Rowan grinned. “Any interesting details?”

“Well, from what I hear, you’re rather good in bed.” Okay, maybe she had mentioned that to Ansel at one point.

Aelin’s face reddened. “Gods help me,” she muttered, glancing upwards.

Rowan’s grin widened. “Is that so?”

“We should be off,” declared Aelin, avoiding Ansel’s triumphant stare and Rowan’s self-satisfied gaze. She walked forward, grabbed Rowan’s arm, and dragged him towards the door.

“Now hold on a minute,” said Rowan. “Don’t you want to say goodbye to Ansel?” He had an innocent expression on his face. She was going to murder him. Both of them.

“You two are so cute together,” Ansel said. Rowan blushed too at this. Serves him right for not walking out the door when he had the chance. “I can’t believe this didn’t happen sooner. You’re so in love.” Ansel lived to stir the pot.

Rowan placed a hand on Aelin’s lower back and guided her to the door before she could pummel Ansel. He couldn’t stop her from flipping Ansel off, though.

Once the door was locked and they were a safe distance away, Aelin burst into laughter. Rowan gave her an incredulous look before chuckling. “This is what I have to live with, Ro.”

He smiled at his new nickname. The stood waiting for the elevator. “I’m glad to hear about my prowess in the bedroom, at least.”

Aelin stopped laughing. “Shut up.”

“I wonder what else you told Ansel about me.”

“Shut up,” she repeated, “before I kick your ass.”

The elevator opened and they stepped in. Rowan’s hand was still on her back. The doors closed and Rowan raked his gaze over her, lingering on the especially exposed areas. “You look beautiful, Aelin.”

She couldn’t prevent the color from rising to her cheeks, and after it had finally faded, too. “And you look very handsome.” Before either one of them could lose their self-control, the elevator opened with a ding.

In his car, Rowan asked, “Ansel won’t tell anyone, will she?”

“You know her. She talks, but she keeps her word.”

“Good. Not that... I mean...” Rowan stopped talking.

Aelin was very curious about what he was dancing around. Was this what he’d been avoiding yesterday? “Tell me,” she demanded.

“You’re going to the Christmas party.” Not a question.

“Yes...”

Rowan furrowed his brow. “Would you like to go to the party with me?”

Aelin blinked. “What, like together? As dates?”

Rowan sighed. Before he could make some comment about how she should just forgot it, Aelin said, “Rowan Whitethorn, are you proposing that we tell the others that we’re involved?”

“Maybe wait until the party, but yeah, I thought maybe we could.” He glanced over at her then quickly back at the road, avoiding her gaze.

Aelin smiled. “I’d like that.”

“Really?”

Aelin laughed. “What happened to your arrogance, Rowan? Of course we can tell them.”

Rowan chuckled. “You’re a bad influence on me.”

“I try. We don’t tell them until then, by the way. I need at least a few more weeks of peace.”

“Or as much peace as one being constantly pestered about their mysterious paramour can get,” Rowan added.

Aelin rolled her eyes. “Whatever you want to call it, yes, you’re right. Hopefully they’ll lose interest soon.”

“Doubtful. They’re like piranahs.”

“How true. We’re not much better, though,” Aelin responded.

They pulled up at a restaurant. It wasn’t the same one as last time, though it was still very nice. Rowan had good taste.

Upon entering, they began walking towards a table. Before they made it, something caught Aelin’s eye. Glancing over, she saw it wasn’t a something. It was Elide and Lorcan.

“Rowan!” Aelin whisper-yelled. Without waiting for a response, she grabbed his arm and dragged him back through the door, attracting a few odd looks.

Rowan was looking very confused. “What’s happening?”

Aelin didn’t say a thing until she got him out of sight of the windows. “Look at that table, the one near the kitchens.” She was still whispering, though totally unnecessarily.

Rowan finally caught sight of their two friends. “Oh. Well, that was unexpected. What are the chances?”

Aelin scowled. “I don’t give a shit what the chances are. Why didn’t Elide tell me she was going on a date?”

“You didn’t tell her about your date,” he pointed out.

“Oh, yeah. Well, let’s go to McDonald’s, then.”

Rowan choked, actually choked. “Tell me you did not just say that.”

“It’s good!”

“It’s disgusting, not to mention about as unhealthy as it gets.”

Aelin sighed. “Live a little, Whitethorn. Or just get a salad or something. Come on.” She pulled him to his car.

Muttering obscenities about the chances of an early death, Rowan reluctantly got in the car.

“Just so you know, I am not kissing you if you have chicken nuggets on your breath.”

Aelin gasped. “Not McDonald’s, then!”

Laughing, Rowan suggested a small restaurant a few blocks away. They drove in silence, Aelin mourning the lost opportunity of French fries.

They resumed their banter after ordering. Aelin got a large French-style sandwich. They moved to the topic of Elide and Lorcan, and how serious it was.

“If Elide didn’t tell me, it’s definitely a big deal,” was Aelin’s input.

“I agree, if only because they’re perfect together.”

Aelin mock-gasped. “Since when were you such a romantic?”

“Since your poisonous influence has spread, apparently. You’ve destroyed me.”

Aelin fluttered her eyelashes. “I’ve got quite the skills when it comes to men, don’t I?”

Rolling his eyes, Rowan said, “If you say so.” The nonchalant tone didn’t match his pick ears, though. Score.

The rest of dinner morphed into an insult match. Nice insults, though, if those were even a thing. Aelin loved fighting with Rowan.

Due to having work tomorrow, she didn’t drink too much wine. Why couldn’t it always be the weekend? When Aelin voiced her thoughts, Rowan rolled his eyes. They did that a lot in each other’s presence.

Dinner was soon over, and they walked back to his car. Once inside, Aelin leaned over the emergency brake and planted her lips on Rowan’s. She grabbed the lapels of his suit and pulled him closer.

Rowan pulled his face away long enough to chuckle and say, “Well isn’t someone-”

Before he could comment on her desperation, Aelin yanked him back to her lips. Her tongue parted his lips and she definitely felt him shudder. Rowan nipped at her lower lip, earning a reprimand that turned into a moan as his hand grasped one of her breasts through the fabric. His other hand ran through Aelin’s hair.

They didn’t separate until Aelin’s elbow hit the horn, scaring them both half to death. Once they recovered from the fright, they both burst out laughing. “Very suave, Aelin.”

“Shut up.” Aelin was so clumsy around Rowan. She thought back to when she woke up in his bed and ran into the door on the way out. Yes, quite suave indeed.

Rowan drove Aelin back to her apartment. “You know, next time I should drive. I get tired of having to look at you every ride,” Aelin declared, earning her yet another eye roll. She was probably setting a record.

He walked her to the elevator, in which they made out again. There really never was too much. It was quite an effort to detach when the doors opened. Aelin’s arms were looped around Rowan’s neck, and he laughed when she sighed disappointedly as he removed his hands from her body. “You’ll have plenty more chances to get your way with me,” he whispered in Aelin’s ear.

Aelin’s breathing was ragged, but she whispered right back, “Don’t doubt that.” Then she turned and walked towards her door, Rowan following.

Aelin unlocked the door, then gave Rowan a quick kiss. “Goodnight.” She opened the door and entered to find Ansel sitting on the couch. Surprise, surprise.

Aelin dropped down on the couch next to her, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl on her lap. Ansel took in her lack of lipstick, ruffled dress, and messy hair, and smirked. “A successful night, I’m assuming?”

Aelin grinned. “I’d say so.” Their little agreement hadn’t stated she needed to tell Ansel about things that happened after the initial conversation, but it still felt good to gossip. She mentioned seeing Elide with Lorcan, to which Ansel squealed, then spilled the details of the hot make out session.

Ansel beamed. “I know I already said it, but you two are so cute together. Why did it take so long to happen?” Aelin did not respond to this.

That’s when Aelin realized she forgot to tell Ansel about the conversation in the car. “We’re going to the Christmas party. Together.”

After another round of shrieking, gods help them all, Ansel asked, “So are you just going to show up holding hands or something?”

Aelin blinked. “Um, I guess so. At least not everyone will be there.” A lot of their friends went to visit their families during Christmas. “We’ll only have to deal with a few annoying idiots, not the whole group.”

Snorting, Ansel said, “You have such a high opinion of our dear friends.”

“We’re all losers and we all know it. Let’s not deny it.” Ansel snorted at this too.

Aelin chatted for a few more minutes, then got ready for bed and went to her room. Once there, she layed down and pondered her situation.

She and Rowan were getting serious. They were going to tell people. Aelin couldn’t bring herself to feel any anxiety at all, just excitement. Now she just had to pray to the gods that no one passed out from shock - or that nothing else could go wrong first...

#rowaelin #tog #sneaking around #my writing

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theseerasures · 4 years ago

Note

They try to smooth over things after everything melts, but explaining to the (mostly indifferent) subjects that their new queen has magical powers and had run away and now come back and that Arendelle was opening its borders after almost fifteen years of isolation is difficult work. Anna looks tired and the boy with her (Kristoff, Elsa remembers vaguely) looks tired, and Elsa feels tiredness clinging to her bones, so after a while she motions for Kai to take over and make their exit. (3)

As usual, Sven only gets a few steps up onto the crystalline staircase before his hooves slide him right back down.

“A few more weeks, buddy,” Kristoff says consolingly as he eases the grumbling reindeer back down to less slippery territory, “You’ll get your winter feet in no time.”

“I told you we should have packed his snowshoes,” Anna grouses, already halfway up herself, “But nooooo, it was all we don’t have time, Anna and it’s not even cold yet, Anna, and we’re going to the Forest and not the North Mountain, what are the odds–whoa!”

Elsa grabs her hand as she threatens to fall backward. “You don’t have to go up.”

“You don’t have to go up,” Anna fires back immediately, and then flushes a little at Elsa’s raised eyebrow. “I mean–obviously you have to go up, that’s the whole point of coming here. I only–”

“It’s okay,” Elsa reassures hastily, not bothering to let go and continuing to steady Anna as they make their way up to the Ice Palace’s main doors. “I know what you meant.”

It’s true; they could have gone back to Arendelle first and rested up before coming back here. But she needs to make this right, and she can, so why put it off? The sooner everyone’s restored and and back to normal, the better.

Olaf’s waiting for them when they finally get to the top. He looks uncharacteristically serious, but Elsa can understand why.

No sounds emerge from within the palace walls; everything is eerily silent.

“Should we…knock?” Olaf asks hesitantly.

“No need,” Elsa says, but she falters suddenly when she moves to push the doors open. When was the last time they were all here together? Kristoff makes pretty regular visits on the way to and from ice harvesting. She and Anna try to drop by when they have time, and of course Olaf tags along with any and all of them whenever he wants. But the last time they were all here at the same time might have been…

We were so close. We can be like that again.

Elsa brushes it aside. A memory from the ice, nothing more. It’s silly to dwell on all that now, when they’re coming back from another successful adventure. They won. They won again, and what they lost, she can easily bring back.

She’s here for a reason, and the sooner she finishes, the sooner everything can be finished. They can go back to their normal lives.

The door opens noiselessly at her push, and inside–

Anna gasps as Kristoff simultaneously bites out an explosive curse. Elsa barely registers either, too busy staring horrified at the countless piles of snow littered on the palace floor. It had been one thing to know what must have happened, or even feel it from the sudden hollow in her mind when she’d come back, but to see it all, here…

She always forgets how many of them there are, when she’s away. She always forgets how many she made, the number of lives tethered to hers.

“Elsa?” Anna’s concerned face looks blurry. “You don’t have to do this right now. We can–”

“I’m fine,” Elsa replies immediately, blinking hard so that her vision clears.

“You don’t look fine.” This time, Anna’s jaw sets when Elsa raises her eyebrow. “Well, you don’t! You’re all pale and your arm is busted and you have bruises everywhere and you have to be exhausted because I’m exhausted, and I didn’t even–”

She turns away abruptly, but not before Elsa catches that her eyes are suddenly wet.

Die. That’s what Anna had been about to say. Experimentally, Elsa brushes her fingertips with the pad of her thumb, feeling the sensation of soft flesh instead of slippery, hardening rime. She had died. Anna’s right to be upset–she has every right.

But she’s back now; that’s the important thing. Elsa reaches out to her sister, tipping Anna’s face gently upward so they can make eye contact. “I can do this,” she says firmly.

Anna sucks in a loud, noisy breath, and then nods. “Just don’t wear yourself out. Take breaks, or–or something.”

Kristoff clears his throat. “Can we…um. Help, in some way? I mean, some of them–” He winces. “Some of the piles kind of. Spilled into each other? What if we separate them, make it easier for you to…”

“No, it’s okay,” Elsa says, when it’s clear he’s not going to finish. There’s no confusing the snowgies for her. They might have been made accidentally, but her magic knows every flake that makes up their being. “I got it.”

She closes her eyes and concentrates. Feels the magic coursing through her, lifting the snow piles up from the floor. Feels their lives return and coalesce with the memory of all that had happened on the day they were born: the ecstasy of eating ice cream cake, the playful mischief of running across town, the dizzying joy of spending a day with Anna…

“Slush!” Elsa hears Olaf exclaim. “Oh, welcome back! And Sludge and Slide and Ansel and Flurry and Fridge and Powder and…”

Everyone back to normal. Not a snowflake out of place.

Elsa smiles. She opens her eyes–

And the world immediately tilts on its axis.

“Elsa?” she hears Anna say as her knees buckle and she sinks ungracefully to the floor, “Elsa!”

She’s never going to let me live this down, Elsa thinks, and then she passes out.

Heh, she thinks as she comes to again. Live this down. Live. See, because she–

“I’m sorry, is this funny?” A shrill voice demands from above.

Elsa opens her eyes to meet Anna’s outraged glare. “It’s not,” she says hastily. “Sorry. Are they all back? Is everyone okay?”

Anna stares blankly at her for a second, then crosses her arms. “Nope. Ansel has two heads now.”

“What?” She bolts upright, just barely avoiding a headlong collision with Kristoff, who’d also been peering down at her in concern. “How–”

Ansel grins up at her, very much still one-headed and bouncing on his little feet. “Oh, ha ha,” Elsa says sarcastically before moving to stand. “Okay. I think Marshmallow is–”

“Nope,” Anna says again as Kristoff firmly pushes Elsa right back down to the ice floor. “You’re gonna sit and rest for at least fifteen more minutes, then you can go fix Marshmallow.”

“Anna, I’m–”

“If you say you’re fine again I’m gonna clobber you with a stalactite. And I’ll make you replace it,” The mulish expression on Anna’s face falters, just a little. “Can you just–for me. Please?”

There’s no way to say no. “Alright,” Elsa says. “Okay. Fifteen minutes.”

Another hard, searching look, and then Anna nods. “I’m gonna go see what Olaf’s up to. Kristoff, you can keep an eye on her, right?”

“Sure thing.”

“I’m not a child,” Elsa protests at the same time.

Her sister doesn’t even bother with a response, so she just slumps back into a more comfortable sitting position, grumbling.

“There, there,” Kristoff says perfunctorily. “Is the whole hair-in-your-eyes thing a required part of being a spirit?”

“I was trying to make it dry faster,” Elsa grouses, passing him a hair tie. She feels him getting to work immediately; first combing through the tangles, then moving into the braid. He doesn’t seem inclined to chat, so she stays silent too, trying to relax.

It’s been a while since she’s had time to stop and think. Even after all the excitement of the dam’s fall, racing back to Arendelle, racing back to the Forest, there had been news to bring, plans to discuss, apologies to make: a nonstop whirlwind of discussion and movement. This is the first time she’s been still in hours, the first time the world has been quiet, just the sound of breathing and the cold all around, everything in sight an icy blue…

“Elsa?” Kristoff’s hands have stilled.

She flinches, feeling sick all of a sudden–something about the blue hurts her eyes. That hadn’t always been true, had it? She’d built this place, but now she can barely stand to look; something about the color reminds her of–

Dive down deep into her sound…

“Here.” Something heavy falls across her shoulders.

Elsa blinks. It’s Kristoff’s big coat–the one he takes in case he gets caught outside in a storm. “I’m not cold.” She knows what cold feels like, now.

“It’s good to have pockets. And here…” He sticks his hand into one of the pockets. “You should eat something.”

“I can’t eat that,” Elsa protests. He’s offering her one of his emergency ration bars, and she’s heard him complain enough about Oaken’s extortionate prices for them. “Don’t they cost a fortune?”

“I’ll put it on the bill.” He rolls his eyes when she continues to hesitate. “Elsa. Just eat it, okay?”

The thought of food makes her queasier, so she plans to just take a few bites for the sake of politeness–but then the whole thing disappears down her stomach, embarrassingly quickly. “I…guess it has been a while. Thanks, Kristoff–I needed that.”

“You need a vacation,” Kristoff says, “Or at least a nap.”

She doesn’t want to think about sleeping right now, if just staying still makes her stomach plummet off a cliff. “Has it been fifteen minutes?”

“Maybe? Look, Elsa–”

“Thanks for the food,” Elsa repeats, getting up. She keeps the coat on; it does feel nice, even if it can’t make her warm.��“I’m okay to go now.”

“Elsa…”

“I’ll nap when I’m done, I promise.” Promise me we do this together. She climbs out the staircase alone. Leans a little against the railing; everything feels spindly, like she’s on marionette strings.

The sight at the top of the steps brings her up short. Marshmallow is an enormous mound of ice and snow near the balcony doors. Had he climbed up to bellow for help in his last moments? Or had he just wanted to return, because here is where…here is…

I know we can figure this out together!

Stop. She slams that memory shut. Get it together.

Still, Elsa finds herself moving slowly, as if taking in the room for the first time. She’d done her best to fix it up after the Thaw, but it’s never been quite the same. If she looks carefully she can still see some faint scoring on the walls from the ice blasts and fired crossbow bolts, and the chandelier…

She’d never had the heart to replace it. It had been a needless extravagance in the first place; she should have known better.

Don’t be the monster they fear you are!

Enough philosophizing. Elsa closes her eyes and gets to work. She sinks into the emotions she’d felt that day: the exhilaration of the build, of cutting loose, letting herself be free for the first time…but there’s an odd resistance to the snow here, like her magic is reluctant against itself. Then again: Marshmallow is her largest creation to date, so perhaps that’s only natural; she pulls a little harder, sensing the snow rise and converge as she lets the memories wash over her–

I’m not leaving without you, Elsa!

The icy pit in her stomach explodes outward. She’s freezing again. No; she’s frozen everything. Arendelle is suffocating under her magic, under her–why had she run–stay away–get back–get back in the cage–

Something thuds onto the ground. Elsa’s eyes fly open of their own accord and blue is the only thing she sees. She’s trapped down here–there’s no way out; she’d thought she had mastered the ice and now she’s paying for it. Something roars in her ears–Grandfather’s sword cleaving bloodily down–why can’t I move–why can’t I stop–

me? The dome is lined with ice and the world is endless blue–spikes rising out of the ground–monster–she’d thought it was just magic but it’s her, it’s in her blood–blue like Anna’s eyes on the fjord, wide and blank and frozen solid–right after Elsa had struck her–right through the heart–right through the heart–ANNA–

“What’s going on up there? Marshmallow, stop yelling! Let me–Elsa?”

No. Nonononono. Anna’s here. She can’t–

“Please,” Elsa manages to push out. Stayawayhelpme she doesn’t remember the rest. Her teeth are chattering and she can’t breathe. “Please. Please.”

“Okay, I’m–I’m at the doorway, Elsa. See?” Anna waves. “And I won’t come any closer until you’re sure it’s fine. Right? We’ve done this before. We’ve got this. You’ve got this. It’s not even cold right now. Kristoff, can you–”

“Yeah,” he says immediately, appearing at Anna’s shoulder. “It’s, um. It’s a little chillier here than the rest of palace. I can feel it here, but–” he takes a few paces back, “–not here, and it’s not spreading or getting colder. The ice isn’t looking any different, so I’d say it can’t be more than a five degree dip, at most.”

“You heard it straight from the ice expert,” Anna says, “And it’s not snowing, even a little–you’re okay, Elsa. You’re not losing control. Everyone’s safe. You made them safe. You made this room, and–” her voice wobbles, but rights itself again, “–and sure, some bad stuff happened in it once, but it’s not happening now. And it won’t happen again. We won’t let it. All you have to do now is focus on calming down, okay?”

Elsa takes one sharp, tight breath, then another. Her vision is still marred by wavy lines, so she reaches out, tries to steady herself–

And hits something soft and cold. Marshmallow is looking down at her, his brows furrowed in concern. “Elsa?” he rumbles.

She sags into him, a wet, wounded sound tearing out of her mouth. “Marshmallow.”

“Good,” Anna says as Marshmallow picks her up carefully and sets her on his shoulder. “That’s–thanks, Marshmallow. We’ll count that as your first thing, Elsa. You got four more? What else can you see?”

Elsa opens her mouth, but the word freezes in her throat, because the only thing she can see–

“I got this!” Olaf sings, bouncing in with the snowgies trailing after him. “Hey, big little brother! Welcome back.”

“Olaf,” Elsa exhales, feeling the corners of her lips flick up minutely. The tightness in her chest relents, a little.

“That’s two,” he replies, nodding encouragingly. “And now you have all these guys, and I know you only have to do three more, but I read in a book that it’s damaging to the family structure to pick favorites, soooo…”

The snowgies beam at her in unison.

Elsa lets out a soft huff; not quite a laugh, not yet. Then she begins.

–

“AH-ah-AH-ah!”

Her hands jump involuntarily. Sven grunts at her–half concerned, half irritated as the carrot she’d been feeding him suddenly gets coated in a layer of frost.

“Show yourself! Right now!”

It’s Olaf. It’s just Olaf, still in the Ice Palace regaling his brothers about their latest adventure while the rest of them get ready to go.

Well. While Kristoff and Anna get them ready to go.

Elsa lets out an embarrassed chuckle, resisting the urge to fling the frozen carrot off the side of the mountain so no one can see it. “Sorry, Sven.”

“No apologizing for another hour!” Anna calls out from behind the stack of blankets they now have to pile back onto the sled. “Kristoff, we’re starting the clock again.”

“I was saying sorry to Sven,” she protests, watching her sister huff and puff over the repacking process. “Are you sure I can’t–”

“Nope,” Kristoff says at the same time Anna says “Nothing productive for you for another day. Another week, maybe.”

Even Sven’s gentle headbutt feels rather pointed. “That’s absurd. I can–”

“Someone still wants to be smothered in blankets,” Anna singsongs.

“Anna–”

“Elsa! We did it. We won. We saved like, a ton of people, and you did maybe eighty percent of it by yourself, so will you just stay still for one whole second and appreciate that–”

“We live!” Marshmallow’s roar rings out of the Ice Palace and takes them all by surprise. “We live!” He shouts again joyously, the being she’d made out of misery and fear.

“Yeah.” Anna’s voice sounds small in its wake. “That.”

Elsa lets out a slow, deep sigh, and lets herself slump down against Sven. “It wasn’t eighty percent,” she mumbles into his flank.

A rumbling laugh, coming from the Ice Palace. Marshmallow again: “Good story! Good story, Olaf.”

“It wasn’t,” she repeats, not sure why she’s insisting the point when no one’s even arguing with her. She’d been trying to sound flippant, but now…now she just feels wrung out. Some Fifth Spirit. “You freed the forest, Anna. I didn’t–I just–it didn’t feel good. I don’t…”

She’s so tired.

Anna’s arms wrap around her. “That’s okay,” she says, pressing a firm kiss on the top of Elsa’s head. “You’re okay, Elsa. We’ve got you.”

Kristoff’s hand touches her waist a moment later, carefully enough that she doesn’t startle, gently guiding her to a position where she can be nestled in between all of them.

She doesn’t need to do anything but let herself be moved. Elsa closes her eyes, and leans into their embrace.

–

“Okay,” she says fifteen minutes later, “Just one more thing–”

“Absolutely not,” Anna orders as Kristoff says, “Sven, sit on her.”

#counterpunches #elsa: if i keep my body moving and my mind occupied at all times i will avoid falling into a bottomless pit of despair #L A S T O N E it is finished #disney #helen writes

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iwantitiwriteit · 5 years ago

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Slow Burn: Act I - Part 2

The Meet Cute - Part 2

Pairing: Chris Evans x Famous!Reader

Summary: You meet Chris Evans at a rooftop, industry party in New York, but will your awkwardness ruin the night?

Warnings: Profanity, Sexual connotations, fluff gone sour (?) Read on to know what I mean

Notes: Please check out the moodboard + music specially curated to go with this part! Read the previous part here.

Although you had a few lightweight drinks, not wanting to get too turnt in front of strangers, you’re not really sure how you ended up here: In the middle of the dance floor, spinning, stepping and outright getting down with Chris motherfucking Evans.

It may have started with your light buzz, then a declaration of “that’s my song!!!” on your behalf, then Chris following you like a wide eyed puppy.

A mellower song plays. Yours and Chris’ energy comes down some, chemistry lingering. You simultaneously notice you’re holding hands and become all too aware of yourselves. Meaningless “ums” and “uhs” fill the air until you excuse yourself to the restroom, but not before you exchange shy smiles with Chris.

You freshen up in the mirror and take a moment to reflect on the night, on meeting Chris, with his tall, muscular frame, genuine smile, heart warming laugh, and blue eyes you could just drown in… Get a grip, SIS! You’re supposed to be meeting industry professionals, not fawning over snackable superheroes, no matter how charming. What time is it even…?

Pawing at your person for a sign of your phone, you realize you might have left it at the bar. Ugh, I hope no one took it. Who am I kidding? Rich people don’t steal phones… right?

You hurriedly rush out of the bathroom, but stop short at the sight of a boyish-looking Chris, hands tucked in his pockets. For the second time tonight, you both take a moment to take each other in. You don’t realize it, but you hold your breath as his eyes scan your hair, your eyes…her nose, her lips, her skin—

“You found it!”

“Huh?”

“My phone! Thank God! I don’t know what I’d do without it!” You say as you point to the black, sparkly device poking out of his pocket. It only became visible when Chris subconsciously went to rub his beard, under a trance at the sight of you.

“Yeah, the bartender found it. I told her I’d give it to you.”

You go to retrieve it from his pocket, but stop short again, reminding yourself you shouldn’t be that handsy with him. He takes that as a cue, and returns the phone to its rightful owner.

You check the time. 1:39 am. Yeesh.

“I know, right?” It must’ve shown on your face. “I didn’t even notice half the party cleared out,” he says while looking at you sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

You chuckle lightly as you take in your surroundings for the first time in God knows how many hours. Had I really lost track of time, giggling with him all night? Yes sis, you did.

Tens of people are scattered about, trash is being cleaned up, and some of the younger staff are taking advantage of the photo-op area. Meanwhile, Chris is rambling about something, cutely at that, but you don’t tune in until he asks, “Do you?”

“Do I…”

He chuckles and says, “Have a place to stay in Boston yet? I always wait until the last minute to find a place when I’m filming out of town.”

You cock your brow. “Are you offering?”

“Ha! No ma’am! I enjoy my bachelor’s pad how it is. Just me and my best boy, Dodger.”

“Is that so?”

“Mmhmm, just a pair of dysfunctional, male codependents.”

“So, it’s a no girls allowed ordeal?”

“No, it’s just--”

“A different girl every night, and they’re on their merry way by morning?”

“No--”

“Oh, so--”

“WILL YOU LET ME TALK?! Jeez woman...” You both giggle at your antics and his feigned frustration. He rakes a hand through his hair before he begins again, but you attempt to cut him off one last time for fun. “Wow, ok!” He makes like he’s going to walk away, but you catch him by the wrist to keep him in place.

“Wait, no, I’m sorry!” You say between laughs and tugs on his arm. “Look, I’ll zip it,” Chris turns to you as you mime zipping and locking your lips. He puts his free hand out, not wanting to lose this physical contact with you, motioning for the imaginary key. You oblige.

“Thank you, and for good measure...” he tucks the “key” in his pocket. You’re admiring the deep, rich tone of his voice when he gently places his hand over your mouth, his other hand still in your hold. Your brain is short-circuiting and your heart is skipping several beats.

“I was going to say,” wow, your eyes are just... wow. “It’s more like a different girl every other night, gone by dawn.”

You scoff and swat his hand away from your mouth, and now you both laugh at his antics. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” he quickly reassures, as if you couldn’t tell it was a joke.

“No, I just really value my space, ya know? Not that I don’t appreciate guests, because I really do! You should see me; I host a WICKED game night.”

“Oh, I bet.”

“I just have to be... never mind. That’s more than what you asked for.”

“No, no, what is it? You can tell me.”

“I guess, I just have to be… selective, about who I invite into my--”

“Game night?”

“You’re quite the smart ass, huh?” You smirk and shrug, but it’s true: you love to crack jokes-- good or bad, for better or for worse-- especially with people you’re comfortable with. We’re not that comfortable, though. We just met.

“I get it, though, truly. Especially in this line of work,” You pause for a moment, fiddling with your fingers before you ask, “Don’t you ever feel like you can’t tell someone’s intentions? Like, you can’t tell if someone wants to be around you for you or... for what they think they’ll get in return. It’s just easier to stay in your own, comfortable bubble sometimes. I don’t know…”

The way you asked made Chris think you were looking for some words of advice more than agreement. “Well, sussing out someone’s intentions is difficult, but gets easier with experience. And not just experience with dealing with a bunch of slimes balls, but experience in listening, trusting your gut when it talks to you.” He gives you a warm smile, and you give a half one back, the thoughts of your very recent past preventing your smile from being full, bright, the way Chris came to know it tonight. In that moment, he found himself missing it.

Sensing the heaviness, Chris changes the subject, “So, uh… have any plans after this?”

“At damn near 2 am?”

”Clearly you’ve never hung out in New York because this is considered too early to go home. This city never sleeps, ya’know? ‘S how it got the nickname.”

“No, I didn’t know that! Thanks for the tip.”

“Yeah, yeah of course, anytime.” The sarcastic back-and-forth leave you two smiling and gazing in each other’s eyes. Why do we keep doing this?

You clear your throat, “But, uh, no… well yes. Heading back to the hotel to get some Z’s. Gonna be at iHeartRadio tomorrow for a show, and I have to be alert for it.” You serve an overexaggerated focus face, to which he laughs at.

“Well, you could always have coffee.”

“Mm-mm, nope, no coffee for me. I’m still hoping to grow a few more inches.”

He sizes you up, “I don’t know, I think you’re just about done sprouting, Kid.”

“What did I say about calling me that?”

He drops his head a little and pouts his lip like a sad puppy, “Only Mackie can call you that...”

“Right! Don't make me tell you again. There won’t be a third time. Just, a consequence I have not thought of yet.” He lightly laughs as you continue, “Anyways, it’s an acoustic set, and I need real energy, real focus, ‘cos I feel like mistakes are far more noticeable when it’s stripped back, and I gotta be all here for it,” you tap your temple.

He nods, “Not only a smart ass, but quite the critic, too? Dangerous combination.” You shrug again. What can you say? You’re particular when it comes to music. “An acoustic set though— should be awesome! Who’s playing?”

...uuuummmm… You start and stop your reply a couple of times, before awkwardly laughing. Maybe he’s just messing with me… “It’s a secret,” you say with a wink.

“Hey! Kid, Captain Little Ass! I’ve been texting both of you! Come over here for a picture!” Mackie’s booming voice bursts your bubble, and the two of you make your way over. Scott, Ansel, Jaden, and a few other people who you probably should’ve met tonight are huddled in conversation. Mackie approaches you with his phone.

“You mind snapping a few pics of me and the boys? We’ll do a couple poses and then I wanna get you in there.”

“Oh, it would be my utmost pleasure to snap some ‘pics’ of you and ‘the boys’.”

While they sort out their poses, you make with unlocking Mackie’s phone. It opens to Mackie’s and Chris’ text chain, and what you see sinks your heart a little bit. Well, damn.

“Hey Kid, we’re ready,” Chris says with a smirk that quickly dissipates when you unintentionally scowl at him, stewing in your thoughts. He thinks it’s because you really don’t like the nickname, but boy is he so wrong.

Anthony was insistent on getting you in a picture, no matter how many times you declined saying you weren’t “picture ready”, when really you were too annoyed to prolong this night any longer. He waved over one of the gawking busboys, no doubt in awe of being in the same room as Shmaptin Shmerica.

As you handed the busboy the phone, he whispered he was a “big fan”, Oh. Really?, and “couldn’t believe” he was meeting you. You thanked him with a kind smile and offered to get a picture with him afterwards, Chris watching the endearing interaction. I’ll have to ask her what she’s been in so I can watch it.

Chris watched you as you scanned the group for a good spot to fit in, then go in the opposite direction of where he stood. After a few snaps, Chris yells, “EVERYBODY: NEW SPOTS, NEW POSE!!” Everyone scurries around, but you being stubborn, stay put. He inevitably finds his way to you, but you ignore his presence.

A few more pictures are taken. Everyone’s smiling their Hollywood smiles, but then there’s you on the end, just mean mugging. On the last picture, Chris puts his arm around your shoulders. The nerve, the GALL, the cologne… no, NO! Get it together! When the photos are done, you quickly go over to the busboy and make good on your promise of a picture with him. You can feel Chris’ eyes on you.

After a couple of selfies, Chris offers to take a picture for you both. When your fan is satisfied with the picture and gets back to work, Chris comes over to resume conversation with you, but you’re too in your head to hear him. You just see his plump, pink lips moving. Damn him and his good looks, and perfect lips and—

“How’s that sound?”

“How’s what sound?”

“Coffee— in Boston.”

“I’m sure there is some, but I thought y’all were more known for your tea parties.” He laughs and your breath is arrested by the beautiful sound, deepening your conflicted feelings. He seems so genuine, but the texts…

“I meant, when we’re both back in Boston, going out for coffee— with me?”

If he would text that, what does he want so badly to see me again for? *gasp* He must think I’m a quick fu— “Why?”

He’s taken aback by your curtness. What does she mean ‘why’? I thought we had a good time tonight, and I want to see her again… “Because ‘here’s to good company’, remember?” He recounts your toast from earlier in the evening, raising his hand to mime a glass in the air for emphasis. He lets his hand fall awkwardly at the sight of your unamused face.

“Good company, huh? Even for a ‘airheaded wannabe’?”

What is she talk… It hits him like a ton of bricks.

It’s you. YOU are the musician girl Mackie and Scott wanted him to meet. YOU are the one playing the set tomorrow, and that’s why you have fans wanting pictures with you. But most of all, YOU had seen his blind judgments of you. FuuuuUUUUUUcccckkk.

“Shit. Listen, I—“

“Have to call it a night and get some rest. Wouldn’t want hot air to be the only thing coming out of my mouth tomorrow. Good night, Chris.” With that, you quickly brush past him, and walk over to say goodbyes to your co-stars. You all share your excitement for starting filming next week, and they wish you well on your show tomorrow.

You make your way to the elevator, but not before you look back for Chris, who’s nowhere to be found. You hoped you’d see his face, and there’d be a look in his eyes that would tell you that tonight wasn’t a waste, that he was as genuine as you’d read him to be and that you’d only read those texts wrong.

But those blue eyes weren’t around for you to drown in. You figured he went somewhere to be pissed about his efforts coming up fruitless. No different than the rest.

Part 3

#chris evans imagine #chris evans x reader #chris evans fluff #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x female reader #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans one shot #chris evans x poc!reader #chris evans x woc #chris evans x you #Slow Burn Series

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rufousnmacska · 5 years ago

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Goodbye and Hello - 9

Manon and Dorian said goodbye in Orynth. But for them, saying hello again is only a matter of time.

The final chapter! Thank you so much to everyone who has read this! I really appreciate all the support and comments!

Previous chapters (full recap)

Part One: I Wish…

Part Two: Another Day

Part Three: Those Two Words

Part Four: Breakfast in Bed

Part Five: Waiting

Part Six: Confessions (nsfw)

Part Seven: Old Friends

Part Eight: Light in the Darkness

***

Part Nine: Not Even Close

***

The sight of Rifthold on the horizon made Manon’s heartbeat skip into an uneven rhythm. As if in warning. For the first time since she’d left on this journey, fear and regret surged through her every nerve, replacing the impatience that had pushed her these last two days. The urgency to get here was gone in an instant.

Abraxos continued on, as though he didn’t notice her change in mood. Or, he was just ignoring it. That thought made her smile, relieving some small piece of tension from her body.

She’d never admit it to him – it’d go straight to his head – but he often knew what she needed before she did. When her grandmother had gutted her, when the horrors of Morath were chasing her, when she was on her last breath, she’d told him to take her somewhere safe. Only to awaken in a bed on a ship in the middle of the sea. A ship upon which Dorian sailed. No other person on board was known to Abraxos, had even been seen by him. Yet, he’d flown her there. To Dorian.

The memory helped dispel the fear, giving her a boost of much needed courage. Her wyvern reacted by flapping his great, silvery wings a little harder, propelling them faster towards the city that began to glow before them.

It was almost dark, and as the sun disappeared, she was glad to have taken this more traditional route. The long way, instead of using a wyrd gate. Manon knew Glennis questioned the wisdom of taking the extra time flying here. The gate would’ve been faster, easier. No chance to back out. But Manon had insisted. She needed that extra time to think, to make absolutely certain of what she wanted. Flying cleared her head. It always had. And though she’d had that frightening moment of doubt an instant ago, the wind had lifted it away.

Perhaps carried on that same wind, Glennis’s words came floating back to her. The not so innocent questioning had propelled her to this moment.

*****

Five days ago...

The room was large, warm, and well furnished. Except for the fact that there was only one bed. It could easily accommodate two witches though.

“I’ll try not to snore,” Glennis said as she sat her bags in a corner.

Manon, following right behind, said, “I’ll try not to kick you when you do.”

The old witch laughed. “At least your mood hasn’t soured at the prospect of a roommate. Especially one who is not your first choice in such matters.”

It had been just over six months since Dorian first appeared in Morrigna through a wyrd gate. Petrah and Glennis knew about the king’s frequent nightly visits. Chaol and Yrene knew of the queen’s occasional stays in Rifthold. And other than a few exceptionally trustworthy guards, no one else had been told.

In order to maintain secrecy while she and Glennis were in Briarcliff to meet with Ansel, Manon would have to go a few nights without the company of the king.

Watching Glennis sort through her things, Manon smiled, realizing she was glad for this time together. They spoke every day, but there was always so much going on around them that often it felt like she hardly ever saw her great-grandmother.

“Well, you’re my first choice tonight.”

Glennis laughed again, and Manon warmed at the sight and sound. How quickly she’d grown to love the witch. How completely she relied on her. The feelings were equal parts terrifying and comforting. Manon was still trying to parse them when she realized Glennis was asking her a question.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I asked if Dorian has discussed the problem he is having with some of his nobility.”

“No,” she said, not bothering to hide her confusion. “And how would you know of it?” She knew that answer at least but wanted to make the crone squirm a bit.

As she began to remove her heavy flying clothes, Glennis tried to appear innocent. She worked at the leathers and boots with her gnarled hands for several minutes. Manon’s patience dissolved as she began to tap her foot on the floor.

“You can speak and get undressed at the same time.”

“Ha! I’m not as young as you are.” Finally, she was in her bedclothes, climbing into bed, and moving to adjust the pile of blankets atop her. “Yrene mentioned it in a letter.”

“The letters he and I carry back and forth for you?” Manon asked. “If you’re going to plot and plan behind our backs, I’m refusing to deliver them anymore.”

Her great-grandmother sat against the headboard and pulled the covers up around her. “Perhaps we wouldn’t need to … what did you accuse us of? Plotting? We wouldn’t need to plot if the two of you took matters into your own hands.”

Manon leaned on the tall corner post at the foot of the bed and crossed her arms. “What matters? What is happening with his lords?”

“They are pushing their king to find a queen.”

Something in her stomach flipped and her face paled. She turned away and began to fumble with her own leathers. “No,” she said roughly. “He did not tell me.”

“Have you never considered it?” Glennis lost the smug teasing and now sounded concerned, truly grandmotherly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t pry.”

She pulled one of his shirts from her bag. It served as her bedclothes, when she needed to wear them. But she just held it, staring, trying not to inhale his scent that was still clinging to it. “Are you and Yrene aware that I once asked him? And he said no?” There was no anger, no cruelty in her words. She’d gotten over the rejection when he’d admitted that he wanted to say yes. Larger forces had kept him from it. And now, those forces were gone. She had yet to decide how that made her feel.

“No. When?”

Manon smiled. So much for not prying, she thought. Quickly, she threw the shirt on and got under the covers. Or, what was left that Glennis had not commandeered for her side. It was late spring, which meant it was still cold in the Wastes.

“The night before he left for Morath.”

Glennis sucked in a breath as a look of understanding filled her face. “Ah yes. I remember. I almost thought you’d go after him. If the call for aid had not come.” Curious now, she asked, “Would you have?”

“I don’t know,” Manon confessed. She’d felt the pull to go. The same pull she often felt around him. To him. Shaking her head, she said, “It doesn’t matter now. He said he would never cage me. Alliance or not.”

“Alliance?”

“I offered him a marriage alliance. For the war.” As she said it, she began to realize perhaps his duty to the keys wasn’t the only reason he’d turned her down. The cringe blooming on Glennis’s face seemed to confirm it. “Shit,” Manon said, flopping back on her pillow. “I made it sound like something to be … endured.” The memory of what she said came rushing back, making her feel worse. “Gods, I called it a sacrifice.”

“Oh dear.”

“Shit,” she repeated. “It’s no wonder.” A sense of frantic urgency almost overtook her as she turned to the witch. “Why is he still with me? After an insult of that magnitude?”

This time, when Glennis laughed, it didn’t make Manon feel warm and comforted. It only increased the anxiety. Almost like she knew what was coming.

“Because he is madly in love with you, granddaughter. Surely you know that! It’s written all over his face. The way he looks at you, the way he seems to…” She paused, looking for the right word. “The way he glows when he’s near you.”

Ghislaine’s books popped into her mind. The romance stories she’d glanced at that used ridiculous, flowery language and went on and on, endlessly describing feelings and heated looks and secret glances. Suddenly, she wondered if maybe she should actually read them to understand what the hell was happening to her.

Mouth halfway hanging open, she faced Glennis. “I didn’t realize …”

“Well, now you do.”

Manon said nothing, not letting herself be convinced by the observations of an old witch, who was no doubt influenced by a young, recently married healer. She couldn’t decipher their motives, and she didn’t think they were lying. But … they had to be wrong. Dorian would have said something by now.

But then she thought of the letters. And the Ferian Gap. The breakfast in bed. The gift of her favorite pastries. The wyrd gate that let her mourn in Theralis. That let them see each other whenever they wanted.

No. Glennis’s conjecture was turning her into some silly, love struck witchling.

“Do you love him?”

Her head shot around to find her great-grandmother’s curious, caring face.

Manon opened her mouth to answer, but then she stopped. What was the answer? She thought again of the Ferian Gap and asking him to dance. The books she retrieved from a place of bad memories to give to him. The pull, always towards him. Even before the war. He’d never feared her, never judged her.

Moisture began to fill her eyes as she stared intently at Glennis. “Yes,” she whispered. A sweet smile, full of love and joy, stared back at her. “But …”

The smile faded. “But what?”

“He is mortal,” Manon said, almost choking out the last word. A word she’d tried so desperately to forget. Dorian was a mortal. She was not. Losing him was a heartbreak she didn’t think she could take.

Glennis reached over and placed a cold hand on Manon’s cheek. “He is mortal.”

The affirmation of what she already knew still sent a spike of grief through her heart.

“But …” Her great grandmother had a sparkle in her eye.

“But what?” Manon asked.

Glennis sat back, beaming with some emotion Manon couldn’t decipher. “But he has raw magic, dear.”

Manon shook her head. “So? A lot was taken by the lock, he isn’t as strong as he used to be.”

Exasperation. That was the look on her face now.

“I happen to have it on good authority that he did not expend so much as to keep him from healing. He still has a substantial reserve of power.”

She knew he still had the ability to heal. But again, “So? I clearly don’t know what your point is. What authority? And what are you saying?”

"My point is that according to our continent’s greatest healer-”

Manon rolled her eyes. Not at the description of Yrene’s skill, but the meddling. Yrene and Glennis were like two little birds chirping back and forth and sticking their beaks in other peoples’ business.

“-the King of Adarlan’s magic will grant him a very, very long mortal life.”

She sat upright. “How long?”

All the amusement left Glennis’s face. “No one has the ability to predict such things. And that’s part of my point. I could drop over dead tomorrow.” Manon frowned, but Glennis kept going. “Harsh, I know. And not something I like to think about. But it’s the truth. It’s true of you as much as me. And Dorian. And Petrah and Bronwen. All of us. Do not conflate immortality with immunity from death. Long-lived by nature of being a witch or fae, or possession of raw magic … It amounts to the same thing. But,” she said, patting Manon’s arm gently, “never forget that we will all meet the same end.”

“So,” Manon started, unable to hold back a smile at Glennis’s raised eyebrow. “You’re saying that since any of us can die at any time, I shouldn’t worry about things outside my control and just enjoy the time I’m given?”

“Well said, granddaughter.”

Manon huffed a laugh, trying not to let this bright spot of hope take over too quickly. Glennis’s words, though greater in number and a bit more philosophical, mirrored Asterin’s final command to her. A command she never forgot, but one she sometimes didn’t translate well into whatever situation was troubling her.

“Do you really view marriage as a cage?” Glennis asked.

After a moment’s thought, Manon said, “I don’t know. I used to. But now, after seeing the Crochans with their husbands and wives, and the Terrasen queen with her mate …” Asterin had loved her hunter, enough to want to stay with him. Enough to regret not going back. “I’m not so sure.”

Glennis nestled down under her blankets. “I’ve seen it become so. But I’ve seen the opposite. Experienced the opposite. Marriage demands compromises and sacrifices, just as any relationship does. Allies, friends, family, lovers, spouses. None of it is easy. I can’t tell you what to do. Despite all of my plotting with Yrene,” she said with a wink, leaving Manon smiling. “It is your choice. Yours and Dorian’s. If you were to marry, the two of you determine the shape of that bond, and your paths through troubles and happiness. No one else.”

Thinking of all the interested parties, Manon wasn’t sure about that. Plenty of unimportant people, both human and witch, would offer their loud, critical opinions. And those who were important to them … Glennis, Chaol, Yrene, Petrah, maybe a few more. She wasn’t foolish enough to think they wouldn’t be among those giving unwanted advice. With a soft laugh, she realized that would be no different than her life now.

“Damn it,” she muttered, looking around the room, wishing she didn’t have to be here. Wishing she wasn’t obligated to spend two days cooped up, playing nice to get humans to stop harassing witches trying to settle near the border.

It must have shown on her face because Glennis said, “Be patient, dear. With all the meetings we have scheduled, this trip will fly by. Then you can tell him how you feel.”

And just like that, her insides somersaulted and she was glad to be here, unable to use the wyrdgate, unable to fly to Rifthold. Feigning agreement, Manon told Glennis goodnight and turned onto her side, pretending to fall asleep. But her mind and heart were racing, keeping her far from any sort of rest.

Tell him how you feel.

It sounded so simple. Just three words, spoken aloud. Laying herself completely bare in front of him in a way she’d never done before. That pathetic proposal might no longer register in her list of most humiliating memories. This confession would surely surpass it. As her imagination truly took off, envisioning myriad scenarios, almost all ending poorly, her stomach joined her heart and head. The sensation was nauseating, leaving her feel like she was falling.

Oh yes, she thought. This will be easy.

*****

“Is Manon joining us for dinner?” Yrene swung Josie around to her other arm flexing her newly freed hand in an attempt to relieve the numbness. “She’s almost too big to carry.”

“Here,” Dorian said. “I’ll hold her. She’s not too—"

Falling backwards onto the sofa, he cried out, pretending he couldn’t stand with her in his arms. Josie laughed and then screamed as she scrambled away from him. He didn’t reach for her, letting her crawl back towards him. When she was close enough, he lunged, grabbing her feet and wiggling his fingers on her chubby toes. She screeched again in between bouts of laughter. When she was gasping for breath, Dorian sat her on the floor and let her go, smiling as she crawled speedily away.

Short of breath himself, he took another moment before answering. “Not tonight. She’s in Briarcliff with Glennis. They’re meeting with Ansel about some border disputes.” They both watched Josie try to chase the dog around the kitchen table. “Not all of Ansel’s people like being so close to the witches.”

Yrene scowled. “I wish people were more open minded.”

“Like you were when you first met me?” Chaol asked as he came through the door. His wife dismissed him with a wave of her hand and went into the kitchen as Josie begged for Chaol to pick her up.

Yrene returned quickly, placing large bowls of steaming food on the table. With a decent attempt at innocence, she asked, “And when should we expect the wedding?”

Dorian sighed and didn’t reply, pretending to be too focused on scratching the dog’s belly.

“Honey,” Chaol said through clenched teeth. “It’s none of our business.”

Yrene opened her mouth to argue but she caught sight of Dorian’s face and stopped.

If Manon initiated it, he’d have the wedding tomorrow. But he’d long ago decided not to broach the subject with her. If it were to happen, it would be on her timeline, not his. As royals, they had the advantage of being able to set the terms of a marriage and union between kingdoms. That didn’t mean it was something she would look upon favorably. She’d never acknowledged it, but they both knew he had not been wrong about the cage.

To placate the sad, apologetic look on her face, Dorian winked and said, a little too brightly, “Yrene, you will be the first to know.” Her resulting smile pleased him, and they all sat down to eat.

Dorian was quiet as Chaol and Yrene talked about their day – what trouble Josie had started in the healer’s quarters, some issue with sword training and new guards, plans for the new Torre – only speaking when he offered to watch Josie one evening later in the week.

He loved them both dearly and appreciated their concern and desire to see him happy. But he wished they could understand that, marriage or not, being with Manon was enough. They already had a commitment, and thanks to the wyrd gate, the means to see each other whenever they wanted. He loved her.

And if that word had never been spoken between them yet? What did that mean?

He dipped a piece of bread in the thick stew and tossed it in his mouth. A good excuse to not have to talk. And the faster he ate, the sooner he could go back to his rooms and sulk.

*****

Josie squealed as the terrier leaped just out of her reach. He spun around, front paws stretched out, rump in the air, tail wagging like a feather, goading her to try again. He was not giving up the ball without a struggle.

Her face, pink with frustration, looked like a perfect mix of her parents, making Dorian laugh.

They continued playing, the dog teasing her with the ball as they sat in the midst of a chaos of toys in his drawing room. He tried to focus on them and not Manon. She should have returned from Briarcliff by now. That she hadn’t meant the border trouble was worse than they’d suspected. Another high pitched squeal broke through his worry. And just in time, he pulled the slobbery ball out of Josie’s hand before she could put it in her mouth. Tossing it across the room, he was grateful for this distraction. Probably not as grateful as Chaol and Yrene for the evening to themselves.

With a bright eyed grin, Josie suddenly pointed behind him to the door into his bedroom. Still sitting cross legged and holding a doll that was missing an arm, Dorian turned to find Manon watching them.

She was utterly still, her own eyes wide and shining.

Dorian blinked, thinking she was a vision, and before he could move, before he could even say hello, she shook her head and said, “This was a mistake.”

Then she turned and disappeared.

Dorian ran after her, calling her name, only to see her cross his balcony and hop onto Abraxos. It took her several commands to get him airborne, as if the wyvern was stalling, giving Dorian time to reach them. But Josie started crying from where she still sat in the other room and he skidded to a stop, looking between the toddler inside and Manon about to leave.

“Wait!” he shouted. Abraxos twisted his long neck around and gave him a sorrowful look just before Manon kicked with her legs, ordering him off the railing and into the air.

She had not looked back at him. Not once.

As they flew away, Josie’s cries reached him again and he ran back inside. She hadn’t moved, and he realized she was upset because the dog had raced off after him. He picked her up and bounced her in his arms as he paced around the room, wondering what in the hell had just happened. She quieted down quickly and, despite the guilt of interrupting their night, he called for a page to find Chaol.

It wasn’t long before Chaol and Yrene appeared, worried something had happened to Josie. But at the sight of her asleep in Dorian’s arms, they calmed down.

He was not calm though. With a quick explanation, mostly because there wasn’t much to tell them, he passed the baby off to her mother and went straight for the large closet in his bedroom. They never left a wyrd gate open, but only used them in private locations. The wyrdmarks were half written so it took him no time to complete the spell.

After a drop or two of his blood, the gate flared to life, looking out into the night sky. Darkness, a chill wind, and fragments of clouds drifting past the moon. He glanced back to Chaol, wordlessly asking him to close the gate. Chaol nodded and within a second, Dorian shifted into his raven form and flew through the flaming doorway.

His corvid eyes adjusted slowly to the lack of light, but there, flapping ahead, he spotted the brief moonlit gleam of Abraxos’s spidersilk wings. The magical door hovering behind him disappeared and Dorian sped up to try and catch them. Shifting to a wyvern gave him a boost of power and speed and soon, he was flying in their wake. Another shift, back to the raven, and he was above her. She hadn’t noticed him until the pop and buzz of magic with the final shift into his own form caught her attention. Manon looked back just as he dropped onto Abraxos’s back.

Crouching behind her, clinging to the edge of her saddle, Dorian shouted, “Land!”

Manon spun around, her eyes wide in anger as Abraxos began to bank and descend. As she realized the command had been to him, not her. And he’d obeyed.

Before she could say anything, the wyvern was skimming over the tops of trees, then landing at the edge of a freshly tilled field. Then, came the rage.

Jumping off the instant his talons touched the ground, Manon turned on the beast. “You traitorous worm! How dare you ignore my commands in favor of his!”

Dorian climbed down, feeling guilty for involving Abraxos. Though, he’d only told him to land. That the wyvern obeyed him was as much a surprise to him as it was to Manon. When he reached her, still yelling at her mount, he suppressed a smile.

Abraxos stared her down, taking her tantrum in stride, as if the screaming and cursing meant nothing. As if he knew none of this was really about him. When his eyes slid to Dorian, hers followed. And the yelling ceased.

*****

Damn those wyrd gates, she thought. And damn his shapeshifting. But, she might as well damn herself, her own stupidity, for coming here.

Dorian said nothing as he looked at her, waiting for her to explain. And as she stared up into his eyes, all she could see was that baby. How he’d been playing with her. Laughing. Happy.

The sight had made her question everything. Not her feelings for him. But whether those feelings were enough. Whether she was enough. And could give him what he wanted.

She hated this. Love and fear and doubt and need. A million emotions swirling inside her. A tempest she had no control over.

His brow creased and he leaned towards her, as if reading all of it on her face. Gently, he brushed his thumb along her cheek, hoping to coax her into speaking. And just that small touch was like a balm, cool to her skin, but a torch to her blood, sending heat coursing through her. Warmth, and love, she realized. It had always been there, in his touch. But she was only now able to see it for what it was.

“I came here to tell you.” She broke off, still fighting back the fear.

His hand dropped to her shoulder, down her arm, until he interlaced their fingers. “What?” he asked softly. “What do you want to tell me?” That fire from his touch still moved through her, filling her. “Manon,” he whispered.

With a deep inhale, hoping it would somehow give her courage, she said, “I came here to tell you that I love you.” She held his gaze, searching for any small sign that she would regret this. But there were already tears gathering. In his eyes as well as her own.

Dorian cupped her face in his hands and shook his head, blinking rapidly, not just to dispel the tears about to fall, but as if he couldn’t believe what she’d said. So, she said it again.

“I love you.”

And then, he was kissing her. And she felt the smile on his lips, felt the moisture on his cheeks, felt the joy radiating from him. His magic burst from him like a bright light, enveloping them in its glow.

Breaking their kiss, he rested his forehead on hers. “I love you too, witchling.”

Hearing it back, feeling its truth and gravity, Manon broke into a smile mirroring his own. She felt that warmth again, stronger, taking her over. And she realized it wasn’t just coming from him. It came from inside herself too, forcing its way to the top of that storm of emotion, overpowering everything else. Dorian kissed her again, and all she knew was that heat. From his touch, his love. And her love for him.

*****

“What spooked you earlier?” Dorian asked as he traced out some sort of pattern on her bare back.

They’d flown back to the castle, where Abraxos had been given several large haunches of meat – a thank you from Dorian and apology from Manon – and was settled in the stable that had been built for him.

Manon didn’t move from where she lay curled against him, enjoying the caress of his fingertips across her skin. Serene, safe. Two things she couldn’t remember ever feeling. Certainly not before him. Even his question didn’t intrude upon the peace she felt.

“I think you know,” she hedged.

He huffed a breathy laugh. “Just because I love playing with Josie doesn’t mean ...” He trailed off and Manon finally shifted, propping herself up on his chest so she could look into his eyes.

“We both require an heir,” she said matter-of-factly. “Delaying this discussion won’t make it easier.” She didn’t know where this newfound courage was coming from. True, she’d always been blunt. But hours ago, she’d been terrified.

Manon tried to envision a boy-sized Dorian, tearing through the castle creating mischief, only to be caught and punished with dance lessons. But try as she might, she couldn’t see it. It was as though Dorian had been born, fully formed, as beautiful and haunted and powerful as the day she’d first seen him in Oakwald, collared and possessed by a valg prince.

The sensation of his pulse beneath her fingertips made her blink and she realized she was touching his neck. The scarred skin, not overly rough but lighter than the rest of him, wrapped around his neck. The edges where pale skin met darker were jagged, like a lightning bolt. As if he’d been struck in one spot and the energy rippled through him.

Her eyes met his and she started to remove her hand. But he grabbed her arm and placed her fingers back on the scar.

“Only you,” he said. “Only you acknowledge it. No one else looks at it. They act as if it never happened.”

Manon considered. “Perhaps they think you want to forget.”

“They’d be right. To a degree.” Dorian closed his eyes, struggling to find his next words. “Part of me wants nothing more than to forget. That part would do anything, give anything to go back. Back before this,” his fingers grazed hers still atop the scar. “But the other part of me wants to remember. So it never happens to anyone again. I must remember so I can make amends to all those hurt by Adarlan.”

He moved her hand up to kiss it. “I don’t want to go back. I want to go forward. I want to live. You once told me to take no more than you gave. And I promise, I won’t. But I need you, however much you can give, I need you to live. At least, the life I want to live. I can’t see a future without you in it."

“And children?” Manon didn’t know what answer she was hoping for. Didn’t know what she in fact wanted.

The need for an heir was a steady, growing beat in her head. Not loud. Yet. But it was there. Along with the godsdamned fear. That she or the witchling would die. Or that she wouldn’t know how to be a true mother.

Dorian was silent, reading her expressions. Finally, he asked, “What do you want?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “With you ...” she paused, sorting through the thoughts twisting in her head. “Having a witchling is the greatest honor in a witch’s life. If that happened, I would want to share it with you. Only you.”

“But,” he prompted. His fingers began their previous motions across her back.

“But I don’t want to be pushed into it. I don’t want it to be about fulfilling a requirement.”

“You want time. You want it to be your choice.”

“Yes,” she said, relieved that he seemed to understand. “You never answered my question.”

Dorian smiled. “You just answered it for me. I would love to have children with you Manon. But by our own choice, and on our own time.”

“And if it never happens?" The joy he’d shown playing with Josie earlier ... Did he know how rare witchlings were?

With a shrug to make it seem as if he hadn’t spent time thinking about it, he said, “A suitable heir is not guaranteed by blood. I can name anyone heir, just as you could for the Wastes.” When she only hesitated, he added, “Despite all my mother’s ministrations, despite all the expectations of heirs and alliance and bloodlines, all I’ve ever wanted is a queen who I love, truly and with my whole heart. And a queen who would love me in return. Can you give me that?”

“Yes,” she replied, without an ounce of doubt. Pulling his hand to rest his palm on her chest, she added, “You have my heart.”

“You have mine,” he said, brushing his lips across hers. “Whatever else comes with it will be like frosting on a cake.”

Manon laughed, looking over at the few remains of the chocolate cake they’d devoured earlier, then resumed her position laying on him.

He took up the writing on her back again and she began to relax, enjoying the sensation, when something made her still. Dorian kept going and Manon focused, trying to pay attention to the shapes he was making.

“What is that?” she asked, not moving. “What are you drawing?”

“Letters,” he said, his voice giving away the fact that he must be smirking. “Words.”

Manon tensed and sucked in a breath. “What words?”

He brushed his palm down her back, as if erasing what had come before and started again.

With each word he wrote on her now hot skin, Dorian translated by whispering in her ear.

Will

you

marry

Manon remained motionless. Except for her heart, which was beating so rapidly she thought it might explode.

No fingertips this time, Dorian said quietly, “We can wait. For however long we need. There’s no rush and if you can’t do it, I understand. I just …” She heard him swallow, hesitating. “I love you.”

Pushing herself back up on her elbow, Manon looked at him. Just looked. Then she brushed her thumb across his lower lip. “This was supposed to take the edge off.”

“And did it?” he asked, no hint of levity or teasing. The sparks in his eyes were proof he remembered the last time they’d exchanged these words. He knew what should come next.

Not even close.

As she considered, she realized there were some edges he had subdued. Not the sharp edges of her witch soul, not the edges of who she was. Those were honed anew. But he had helped her onto the path of healing from the loss of the Thirteen. He’d helped her learn about trust and love and the hope of a better world. He challenged her, accepted her. He was her mirror in so many ways. There would be no cage with him.

Ignoring the line she was supposed to say in favor of answering the previous question he’d posed, she said simply, “I will.”

*****

Epilogue

Nine years later…

After a week of stormy gray skies, and high winds, the sun broke through on the one day that mattered. Even though they’d agreed to keep it small and simple, guests from three continents had come to the Ferian Gap. To celebrate a union and reunion. For the first time since the defeat of the valg, the royal wedding joining the Witch Kingdom and Adarlan brought together the allies of the war: Wendlyn, the Khaganate, the Western Wastes, the Silent Assassins, Eyllwe, Terrasen, Doranelle.

Manon wore a dress for the first time in her life, while Dorian, for the first time in his, felt nervous about having so many eyes on him. The only eyes he sought out, gold and brilliant and glittering in the sun, helped calm him. And he reassured her, many times and in many ways, that she was stunning in the form-fitting red silk.

The ceremony, held outside for the benefit of the Queen’s wyvern, was brief but emotional, with the heartfelt vows causing more than a few guests to reach for a handkerchief. None more so than the Queen’s great-grandmother and the head of Erilea’s Torre, who shared a long hug at the end.

A host of witches on wyverns and brooms joined a large group of Rukhin, riding mounts born and raised here by their Wing Leader Orghana, as they flew across the Gap, whooping and cheering their King and Queen.

Qara oversaw the food, which was plentiful and delicious. The old Rukhin cook was offered a bribe by the Terrasen Queen to move to Orynth. But she refused. Unbeknownst to a dejected Aelin, Manon convinced the cook to give up one recipe for chocolate pastries. She then secretly offered it to Rowan, as a gift he could give his wife. And as a thank you for helping Dorian escape Rifthold all those years ago.

At one point, the recently crowned Khagan and his children encouraged the Empress to sing. However, it took the combined efforts of Chaol, Yrene, and Dorian to get her to agree. Nesryn’s voice brought more guests to tears as the Rukhin were reminded of the old homes they’d left to start a new one here.

While their friends laughed and ate and danced, Dorian never left his wife’s side. He knew this was a bittersweet day for Manon. A day of love and joy, but it was incomplete without the Thirteen. She found solace in his suggestion that they were sharing that joy in whatever afterlife they watched from. Not the Darkness. They had not gone to a dark place. Her sisters resided in light.

When the music sped up and the other Rukhin singers took over, Dorian led Manon away from the crowd, back to the shadowed corner where they’d shared their first dance. And as they turned in slow circles, holding each other so close there was no space between them, they laughed and whispered, dancing like that for the rest of the night.

Well, not the rest of the night. They were interrupted by a witchling who had refused to be taken to bed. Rhiannon insisted on one more dance with her parents, only then would she go to sleep.

And she kept her word. Halfway through the song, held tightly between them, Rhia fell asleep on Dorian’s shoulder as Manon gently stroked her hair.

The end.

*****

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finnwolfhard7137 · 4 years ago

Text

The Art of Falling in Love-Finn Wolfhard × Reader

Chapter Three is here...

Chapter Four: Paradise

Word Count 2.4k

Warnings: some fluff

_____________________________________

Oakes wakes you and Miles up by shaking the both of you like rag dolls.

Oakes "GUYS!"

"Huh? What's going on?" You look at Finn who is still behind you and he is laughing his ass off.

Finn "We literally just slept outside all night." You face-palm and laugh.

Oakes "Not going to lie...that's fucking goals." Finn laughed even harder and pulled you tighter into his side.

Oakes "Did you guys not go into your trailers all night?"

You both "No."

Finn "I honestly didn't wake up at all last night."

"Neither did I and I always wake up at least once during the night-"

Finn "Me too."

Oakes "Well, you two lovebirds...it's 6:30, let's eat before we have to film." You both agree and get off of the ground.

"Shit...I got your hoodie dirty." You look at the sleeves and sigh.

Finn "Don't worry about it, I can wash it. I wouldn't change anything about last night for the world." You blush and lean into him. You spot Oakes chuckle at you two, to which you kiddingly flip him off. He repays the favor and you both just laugh like three children.

You get taken into your trailer first for makeup and hair because you take the longest to get done, Finn and Oakes just relaxed while you were gone. Oakes noticed that Finn watched as you left and hit him on the shoulder.

Finn "What?!"

Oakes "You love her don't you?"

Finn "I sure as hell like her. What's not to like?"

Oakes "She is pretty great, you two look good together."

Finn "I haven't asked her yet, Oakes. I don't wanna rush her into anything."

Oakes "I think that she likes you too, Finn. If that is what you are worried about, you are crazy."

Finn "I just don't want to mess anything up with her, she isn't like anyone I have ever met, she is like...perfect! Y/n is like the girl that I have always imagined being with..I don't know how to explain it-"

Oakes "I know what you mean dude. You don't need to explain it, I totally get it."

Finn simply nods and takes a drink of his water.

Oakes "Just ask her dude, she's gonna say yes."

Finn "I will eventually, Oakes." Oakes rolls his eyes and he punches him in the arm and starts to laugh, "You are so pushy!"

Oakes "Hey, I just support it! My two best friend's together...like fuck yeah I want it to happen!"

Finn "Thank you, that means a lot. I want to ask her properly...maybe I'll take her somewhere beautiful, other than the desert. Make it memorable, ya know."

Oakes "Yeah, that would be good." They continued to talk until it was their turn to get ready for the day. When you came out, Finn was walking towards his trailer which happened to be right next to yours and winks at you. You almost trip on the last step because he is just so damn cute.

…

You read your script and today, you go to school with Oakes and Boris: He doesn't leave yours and Oakes' side the whole school day, he rides with you on the bus and afterwards, you and Oakes go to his house. It sounds really fun from how the script put it so today is going to be exciting. When he comes out of his trailer, he is wearing a black blazer with a skateboarding graphic t-shirt. He honestly looks so good that you almost drool! You look away so that you don't get caught staring, in a few moments you feel his arms wrap around your neck, across your chest in a warm embrace. You can't help but smile and grab his arm in acceptance.

Finn "Well don't you look beautiful!"

"I have this stupid prosthetic on..how can I be beautiful?"

Finn "You are! Makeup, no makeup..prosthetic or no prosthetic. And hey, you won't have to wear it the whole time."

"Yeah, I'm looking forward to future scenes.." he let go of you and crouches down in front of you and smiles. "What?"

Finn "Stop..just stop being self conscious, you are fucking perfect so stop." You smile and pull him up to you to give him a hug. You want to do more but you want him to make the first move...obviously. He hugs you tighter and you just melt.

__________________________________

John "Action!"

Theo "Boris, Pippa is going to join us today."

Boris "Is she really? Excellent!"

Theo "Yeah but she's worried about ya know...getting bullied."

Boris "I like her, I won't let them pick on her. She cannot help it." You come into the view and Finn smiles down at you.

"Hey Boris."

Boris "Hey! You've been good, yes?"

"Yes."

Theo "Come on, we are gonna be late to first period." When you get in the classroom, the classroom stared at your head. Some girls were even laughing. Boris noticed and got in front of you.

Boris "You got a problem, ay?! This woman survived a fucking bombing, show her some respect." The girls immediately started to apologize. All you were told to do was shake your head and take a seat next to Finn which you do.

"Thank you."

Boris "Of course." Theo looked behind him and saw you two talking and gave Boris a smile like, thank you.

John "Cut! Perfect guys." You immediately go back to your normal self as soon as he yelled 'cut' and took a deep breath. Growing up as a kid, you used to get bullied so to have to reenact what you really had to go through, was rough mentally.

Finn "I almost lost my shit…"

"Oh really?"

Finn "Yeah, I hate bullies."

"Me too, but thankfully it's just for the movie." He agreed but before he could say anything, John yelled 'action'.

….

The school day is over and you all get on the same bus. Finn and Oakes sit next to each other and you sit by yourself on the next row.

Boris "Did you enjoy school today?"

"Kinda."

Theo "Well you did good for your first day back, Pippa."

"Thanks-"

Boris "How about you both come over my house? I have drinks."

Theo "Drinks?"

Boris "Yeah, I have beer at my house. You two should come over."

Theo "Do you want too?"

"Yeah, I don't mind."

Boris "Good. Hey, I didn't tell you earlier but um, I think that you look very pretty today Pippa."

"R-really?"

Boris "Of course." Theo nudges him so hard that he almost fell off of his seat, he immediately shoved him back but even harder. Earning a laugh from you, making Oakes look at you with a shock on his face.

Theo "Y-you laughed!"

Boris "So? Everyone laughs."

Theo "No...you don't get it. Pippa hasn't laughed since the bombing." Finn looks over at you and smiles from ear to ear, making you happy.

"You guys make me happy. No one else does." Finn grabbed your hand from across the aisle. You don't remember that being in the script but you really don't care.

John "Cut." The school bus stops and you all get out of the bus.

John "Lunch break guys, you did good."

"Can I get the prosthetic off? It is starting to hurt."

John "Of course, Y/n. Next week, the movie skips a month in advance so you won't have to wear it anymore. Just hang in there for two more days and it'll be off for good."

"Alright, awesome. Thank you!" Finn walks up to you and kisses your forehead.

"Ima get this thing off, you can join me if you want."

Finn "After you."

Bill "oohh it started to come off."

...

"Is that why it started to hurt?"

Bill "yeah, the glue was pulling on your fine hairs."

Finn "Prosthetics hurt in general."

Bill "This is true. I have never had a client be excited to get them applied."

"I was on the first day, not anymore." You three laugh.

It takes a good minute to get it all taken off and your hair fixed up. Finn didn't leave the seat next to you the whole time, he just talked to you and complimented you on today's performance so far. He has been your biggest supporter all week and it never gets old: hearing one of your idols tell you how amazing you are doing...doesn't get better in this line of work.

Oakes comes in, "They got a whole buffet...you guys are missing out!"

Finn looks at you so intensely that you burst out laughing. He picks you up and carries you out of the trailer, running all of the way to the free buffet.

John "Hungry?"

Finn "uh...a little-" he says grabbing a whole plate full of food.

Oakes "look at him, he's a freakin' giraffe! He needs his food.." Finn almost chokes on his food from laughing so hard. Finn is really tall, especially in person.

"You aren't wrong!" He sits down and pulls you onto his lap. John and the rest of the film crew just smile at the sight.

__________________________________

When you three got to the house, the camera's started rolling when you guys sat down in his unfilled pool with beers and cigarettes.

John "Action."

Boris "Would you like vodka?"

You and Theo "No thanks."

Boris "My dad drinks it all the time, so much he can not feel his feet. Literally, it has a name."

"Is it just you two here?"

Boris "Yes. My mother is dead."

Theo "Mine too."

Boris "Mine was alchie...got drunk and fell out the window."

"Jesus."

Boris "Did you lose anyone...ya know. When Theo did."

"My uncle. He took me because it was for my birthday, I just wanted to see the beautiful art with him and then..well you know. It is all my fault."

Theo "Hey, it isn't your fault."

"You blame yourself too, Theo."

Boris "You both are wrong. Don't blame yourselves! You guys didn't know that that was going to happen."

"Change the subject." Finn thought for a moment.

Boris "What is your favorite art piece in the museum."

"It is a piece called The Goldfinch."

Theo "That is where I met her, we were all looking at that painting before it all happened."

Boris "Wow...All I gotta say is that I am glad that you are here, Pippa. With you and Theo here, it is a lot less lonely."

"I am glad much happier here. You wouldn't think that the desert is better than a city but it is to me. Especially now, it is much quieter."

Theo "It will be easier for you to heal."

"Yeah, hopefully."

Boris "Don't you worry, we will all get through our own struggles together."

John "And...cut! Fantastic job guys!" This scene only took one shot to master. You three high five and get undressed because that was it for the day, the rest is for Ansel and Aneurin who play Theo and Boris older in the movie.

…

Aneurin "You make my job hard, Finn...how am I supposed to top that?"

Finn "Oh you can do it, I didn't even do anything."

Aneurin "That is my point!" Ansel joins you, Finn, Aneurin and Oakes.

Ansel "You did great today guys! I'm very impressed." You all thank him.

Oakes "What are you shooting today?"

Ansel "With Nicole..I'm visiting her after years of not seeing her."

"Oof so an emotional day?"

Ansel "Oh yeah."

Oakes "You've got this. You can cry on command."

"You can?"

Ansel "Mhm."

"If you can cry when I tell you too, I will pay you 20 bucks right now."

Ansel "You are on!"

".....Now!" Sadly..he does in seconds.

Ansel "Pay up, Y/n!"

"Fuck you." You hand him the 20 dollar bill, laughing in defeat. You didn't know that he could cry that quickly, or that anyone could for that matter.

John "We are shooting in 5!"

Aneurin "I'll see you guys later." The two boys left and started shooting.

__________________________________

You three ended up watching them film: taking in their movements and the way they say some words and how they react to comments and such.

Finn "Hey, it's getting late. Wanna go for a drive?"

"Yeah, I'm down. Oakes, you coming?"

Oakes "Nah, you guys go ahead. Have fun."

Finn smirks at you and runs to his car, opening up the door for you.

"Where are we going?"

Finn "I know a beautiful place back here, I've been waiting for an opportunity to take you."

"Ohh I'm excited." In the drive there, you text your mother about your amazing day and sing songs with Finn. When you are with him, it is just pure happiness and bliss. You have never experienced this feeling before: crushes yes, dating yes but not actually being in love with someone completely and fully and getting that same energy in return.

…

Finn "We are almost here. I want you to close your eyes!"

"Really?!"

Finn "Yeah, come on close em." You feel the car stop and you hear him put the gear in park. He gets out of the car and he helps you out. A few steps forward, you can feel the sand beneath your toes.

"The beach?!"

Finn "Just wait." You two walk until he stops. "Okay, open." You open to see the most beautiful sunset over the waves.

"Oh my god. It's so..beautiful."

Finn "I knew that you would love it. I remember when we all went to Chick-fil-a, you told me that you loved the beach."

"I do, it's my paradise." Finn smiles at how amazed you are at your view. But to him, you are his view. You are way more beautiful to him than the ocean. He puts his arms around your waist and watches the waves crash onto the shore with you in his arms.

To be continued...

@moriartysringtone7137 @euphoricsunflowrr @spidey-starky @tysblackswan @strangerev @keeshonds @itlittlefangirl

#the art of falling in love #the goldfinch #finn wolfhard #boris pavlikovsky #theo decker #oakes fegley

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shotbyafool · 5 years ago

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I know that Finn Wolfhard is a Big Deal and Ansel Elgort is also a Big Deal so Aneurin Barnard, as an actor, falls into the background because he is neither the big-name star who plays his character for the first half of the film nor the big-name star who he is playing against in all his scenes, but I hate critics disliking him because he doesn’t play Boris with the same flighty peculiarity that Wolfhard did... Aneurin’s Boris is older, more settled, still strange and desperate but in a different way than his younger self, he knows the sacrifices he has to make and does them without uncertainty. younger Boris hesitates; older Boris acts, which makes them very different men and is what is so lovely about his character!

and while the young section of their story is about Theo yearning for Boris, thinking of Boris as just a little too touchy a little too affectionate while being just as desirous in turn, Boris in New York and in Amsterdam is so clearly still in love with Theo—or the concept of Theo, or the memory of him. but he sees him again, knows him again, watches him in his dips and curves, running down a street out of Boris’ car, quivering at the sight of a loaded gun. there Boris does not adore the boy, Theo, but the man here before him, easier now and in a pressed suit fitting him just right—and Boris thought clothing could never fit him just right. a man who stands tall, tall above him now, and they rest at perfect opposites from their childhood, yet in its binary opposition, it is poetic, obvious, clear fate, says Boris to Theo through heavy tequila eyes, knuckles knocking against knuckles while reaching for the bottle

older Boris who grabs at Theo in a bar filled with Russian words and sits him down and pours him drink after drink in secret–sharing seclusion. who plans out a trip to Amsterdam for Theo after tripping over apologies for hours in the claustrophobic not–space of his fancy car. who revives Theo from death, feet dragging in snow, skin raised in gooseflesh against the open air. warmth, cold, yearning. sitting Theo down in an empty shop, spreading a newspaper between them, and saying your bird is safe. Boris who works so quietly in the background, now the manufacturer of the crime, clean and precise in his every move.

yet his fatal flaw, his inability to hide his hand—he gives all to Theo and forgets to keep it quiet. Boris still works on dramatics, which is why Theo hesitates against him, finds him too loud and too happy and too easily pleased. just that Aneurin plays him with all of these things for the final stretch of the film and sheds tears across from Theo even though the bird is not his and never was his to hold ; how it is the sight of Theo, learning how to breathe again, that makes him cry. Aneurin was the perfect person to play this part. I am going to sob

#the goldfinch #the goldfinch spoilers #i am :) feeling it

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ronniesqueen · 5 years ago

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A Journey To Find True Love

We start off with Archie as the bachelor, Ronnie is in his season. The story progresses, and she becomes the next bachelorette after he finishes his season. Both of them go on their journey to find true love.

I will be writing this AU in the form of a tv show. Since, we all know that “The Bachelor” and “The Bachelorette” are reality tv shows.

Okay. Without further ado, Buckle up, buckerooos!

Night One.

Night One. Archie’s season.

(setting: Andrews Household.)

Everyone moves at a different pace. How long does the average adult sleep at night? 8 hours? 6 hours? 12 hours? I would imagine that it varies based on what that person has planned the following morning, or what time they fell asleep the previous night. Now, let me ask you a better question. How long does it take for the average adult to fall in love? One year? Six months? Two years? Or does that vary on the duration of time spent together?

For Archie Andrews, this needs to be done in six weeks. When he had been announced as the bachelor, it was a moment of excitement, followed by a moment of apprehension. Could he find true love? Is it even possible to fall in love in six weeks?

“How do you feel?” Fred Andrews asked his son, entering Archie’s bedroom. Watching Archie put together his suit and tie.

“I’m nervous. I don’t know what to expect,” Archie confessed.

“You could be engaged six weeks from now,” Fred added. “Do you think that’s something you’re ready for?”

Archie smiled. “Absolutely. I’m ready to settle down, start a family. Maybe I’ll meet my wife tonight. I’m hopeful.”

Chris Harrison, host of The Bachelor, entered the room. “Archie? Your limo is here.”

Archie gave his dad a hug. “This is it. See you in six weeks.”

“Good luck son. Go get her.”

(setting: Outside Bachelor Mansion)

Once Archie arrived at the Bachelor Mansion, he stood outside.

Waiting for the limo to arrive.

In this limo, he was expecting 10 women.

He took deep breaths. In, and out.

A fresh breeze swept through the leaves, giving Archie the last push he needed when finally, the limo arrived.

As the door opened, he saw a beautiful woman, with long red hair, and a sparkling red gown, exit the limo and began walking towards him.

“Hey! How are you?” He said to her as she approached him.

“I’m doing exceptionally well, how are you?” she responded, greeting him with a hug.

“Good,” Archie said. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Cheryl Blossom, and I have to say, it’s so lovely to finally meet you. You look so handsome,” she commented with a flirty, inviting smile.

“Thanks, you look beautiful. I love that dress,” he flirted right back.

“Why thank you. Red is my signature,” She said with a wink.

“I don’t think I’ve seen anybody look that good in red until now,” he chuckled, giving her another hug. “Alright well, I’ll see you inside okay?”

“Yes you certainly will,” she said, blowing him a kiss as she walked away from him and into the mansion.

Archie smiled. “She was gorgeous,” he whispered to himself.

He turned around to face the limo.

His jaw dropped.

A strikingly beautiful woman, with dark hair, and silver silk gown exit the limo and begin to walk towards him.

“Hello!” He said to her as she approached him.

“Hey there,” she said, greeting him with a hug. He was able to smell her vanilla scented perfume. “My name is Veronica Lodge. And I just want to say that I’m genuinely looking forward to getting to know you, and your heart, on this journey together.”

Archie smiled. “Same here. I can’t wait to get to know you on a deeper level.” He gave her another hug. “Alright, I’ll catch up with you inside.”

“Sounds amazing,” she said, walking away from him, and entering the mansion.

He watched her walk away, still smiling.

It wasn’t until he heard the footsteps of the next woman, that he turned around to face the limo.

“Hey Archie! I’m Ethel,” a woman with short red curly hair said, approaching him. “It’s so good to meet you!”

“Hi Ethel! Likewise,” Archie said, giving her a hug. “I’m digging the bow.”

Ethel giggled, “Thank you, it’s my favorite.”

“That’s cute. I really like your name. It’s unique,” Archie said, smiling.

Ethel started to blush, “I like your name a lot too!”

“Alright, I’ll see you in there okay?” He said, giving her another hug

“Okay great!” She said, beaming widely as she walked away from him, and entered the mansion.

As she grew out of earshot, he said to himself, “Aww, she was so sweet.”

Chris Harrison walked over to Archie. “You’ve just met three of your women. How do you feel?”

“I’m okay! I really am. They’re making this a lot easier for me. I really appreciate that,” Archie responded, with a genuine smile.

“Okay good. Because you have seven more to go.”

(setting: Confessional Booth)

“Meeting Archie was an absolute dream. The red headed Ansel Elgort. I’m beyond thrilled to start this journey with him. I’ve tried every flavor of boy but orange,” Veronica said, giggling.

(setting: Outside Bachelor Mansion)

“So far these women have been so great. Nobody’s done anything too crazy yet,” Archie chuckled to himself.

When....suddenly...

“Now I’m speechless. Over the edge, I’m just breathless. I never thought I could catch this, lovebug again,” Archie heard an angelic voice sing.

He looked all around him, searching for where the singing was coming from. She then came out of the limo, a beautiful woman with a turquoise sequin dress, and started to approach him.

“Hopeless. Head over heels in the moment. I never thought I could get hit by this love bug again,” she sang.

“Wow, you are just...” He was at a loss for words. “Wow.”

She giggled. “I’m Josie. I know you’re meeting a lot of women tonight, but I wanted you to know, that music is what I’m truly passionate about.”

He smiled. “I love that. I’m actually very passionate about music too.”

“Are you?” She giggled.

“I am,” he began. “I play the guitar, and I sing. Maybe we can jam together sometime.”

“I’m up for it, as long as you try to keep up,” she said, with a wink.

“I’ll do my best,” he chuckled.

She gave him a hug. “I’ll see you inside, Justin Gingerlake,” she said playfully, letting out a cute giggle.

He laughed, as she walked away from him and into the mansion. “She was amazing,” he whispered to himself, watching her walk away.

******Commercial Break*******

(setting: Outside Bachelor Mansion)

Archie turned to face limo when he noticed someone in a giant sloth costume walking towards him. “Um....hey?” He chuckled nervously.

After a few minutes of the sloth moving very slowly, the sloth removed their mask, revealing a very beautiful woman with black curls and a dark violet lipstick. “Hey Archie. My name’s Valerie. And I know this costume seems crazy, but this was just my way of showing you, that in relationships I do like to take things slow. I want for us to move on our on pace, and not rush into things we’re not ready for.”

He smiled. “I really appreciate you being honest with me, Valerie. More than anything, I want an engagement at the end of this. I want to be able to get down on one knee, knowing that we’re both serious about each other, and that we want the same things, and give the relationship time to reach that point.”

She blushed. “I’m glad you understand. And I’m really looking forward to this experience with you.”

“So am I,” he said, still smiling. “I’ll find you inside, okay?” he said, giving her a hug.

“I’ll be waiting,” she giggled, as she walked away from him, and entered the mansion.

(setting: Confessional Booth)

“This girl just walked into the mansion, wearing a sloth costume... and I’m like, what in the world?” Cheryl said, laughing. “Sweetie, you’re making a fool out of yourself in front of Archie, in front of the other women, and on national television. I won’t be surprised if she doesn’t get a rose tonight.”

(setting: Outside Bachelor Mansion)

“I brought you candy hearts,” Melody Valentine began. “Because I want to ask you, if you would be my valentine?” she laughed.

Archie laughed. “I see what you did there!”

He gave her a hug. “I will gladly accept these candy hearts. And, of course I’ll be your valentine.”

She giggled. “I’ll see you inside.”

As she walked away from, he took a bite from one of her candy hearts. He smiled, “How did she know I love chocolate?” he chuckled to himself.

He put away the candy hearts when he saw a very pretty brunette with side bangs and edgy black dress walking towards him.

“How are you?” He called to her.

“Hey, I’m great! How are you?” she responded.

“I’m good, it’s so great to meet you,” Archie said, greeting her with a hug.

“You too! My name’s Midge Klump. And, I know it’s generally your duty to give out roses to us, but...I thought I’d change the game a little and give you this. Archie, will you accept this rose?” she laughed, pulling out a ravishing rose from behind her back.

He chuckled. “Yes, I will accept this rose.”

Thank you,” she giggled.

Archie gave her another hug. “Meet you inside?”

“Can’t wait,” she said, walking towards the mansion.

(setting: Confessional Booth)

“Everyone’s been really chill so far. I know there’s only three girls left for Archie to meet, so right I’m just kinda nervously waiting for that one girl to show up. The girl who’s gonna stir the pot and cause drama. I’ve seen this show before. So now I’m just waiting for that girl to show up,” Ethel laughed.

(setting: Outside Bachelor Mansion)

“You.....brought me a dog?” Archie laughed nervously.

“It’s not just any dog, this is one the best showdogs in Riverdale. You only deserve the best,” an attractive woman said, wearing a pink dress with feathers all around the hips.

“Ha, thanks” Archie said. “What was your name again?”

“Katherine.”

“Right, okay. Well I’ll see you inside, okay?” he said, giving her a hug.

“Without a doubt you will.”

She walked away. Immediately Chris Harrison approached Archie, taking the dog. “Thank you,” Archie whispered.

“I got you,” Chris said, patting Archie on the back.

As Chris walked away, Archie had lost the ability to speak.

He saw an exquisite, graceful, beautiful blonde woman walking towards him, wearing a rose gold sparkly gown, and carrying a small box.

“H-H-Hey. How are you?” he asked, instantly smitten.

“I’m good! How are you?” She asked. She paused. “I”m Betty Cooper.”

“Nice to meet you Betty,” Archie said, giving her a hug. “What’d you got there?” he asked, smiling.

“I’m so nervous right now, I have so many butterflies,” She giggled.

He smiled.

“No I literally have butterflies,” She said, opening the box, revealing many plastic butterflies.

Archie laughed. “No more butterflies,” he said, playfully tossing some of them on the ground.

Betty laughed, and poured all of the plastic butterflies out of the box. “I guess that takes care of all my butterflies” she sang playfully.

“No I still feel like I have some butterflies,” Betty giggled.

“So do I” Archie said, beaming. He found himself blushing.

She gave him another hug. “See you in there?”

“I’ll find you,” he said, still smiling, as she walked away.

He looked at the ground, picked up one of the butterflies, and placed it in his coat pocket.

(setting: Confessional Booth)

“I could tell that Archie was nervous, but I think he’s just nervous for this whole experience in general. But I think he’s handling himself really well so far,” Betty said, giggling.

(setting: Outside Bachelor Mansion)

“I know you’re meeting a bunch of women tonight,” Ginger Lopez said. “So, I brought you this bag of cinnamon, so you can remember me as Sweet Ginger.”

Archie laughed. “I definitely will. Alright, I’ll see you inside.”

She walked away, skipping in joy.

Chris Harrison walked over to Archie. “You, sir, just met all ten of your women.”

“It was really fun,” Archie said.

“So, I’m going to give you this,” Christ said, giving Archie a rose. “This is the first impression rose. Give this to the woman who truly stood out to you. And that women will be safe from elimination at your first rose ceremony.”

“Sounds good,” Archie said, taking the rose.

As Chris walked away, Archie thought long and hard about who he wanted to give this rose to.

(setting: Bachelor Mansion, living room. All of the women are sitting on the couches, drinking champagne. Waiting for the rose ceremony.)

“You...you got him a dog?” Ginger asked.

“I sure did,” Katherine said, proudly.

“I could’ve done a lot more than just a bag of a cinnamon…” Ginger whispered to herself.

“Eh. You could’ve done worse,” Cheryl said, looking over at Valerie, who at this point had changed out of her sloth costume and into a purple strapless gown.

Valerie caught her glance. “You can say whatever you want. But it’s up to Archie whether or not he’ll give us a rose.”

“At least I don’t need an insane costume or a gift to be memorable.”

Archie entered the room. “Hey, ladies. You all look so beautiful.”

All the women smiled at Archie. He looked at Valerie. “Can I steal you away for a minute?”

She smiled. “Of course you can.”

(setting: Confessional Booth)

“I don’t think any of us were happy to watch them walk away together. We knew it meant one of two things. Either she’s getting the first impression rose, or he’s sending her home early because he knows he could never be in serious relationship with someone who shows up in a ridiculous costume,” Katherine said, smirking.

(setting: Outside by the fountain)

“It really meant a lot to me, how open you were about what you want. One of the things I really look for in a woman, is someone who is determined and strong. Someone who not only has her heart in the right place, but also is considerate of what I want, too,” Archie said, holding her hand.

“I agree. I really do believe that complete transparency and compassion is what keeps relationships healthy. But I also want us to be able to communicate in a way that, we both listen and understand how the other person feels,” she said, smiling.

“Absolutely. That’s what I want, too,” Archie said, pulling out the rose from behind him. “I’m really looking forward to this journey with you, and I hope that we can change each other for the better. Valerie, will you accept this rose?”

She smiled. “Without a doubt.”

The two leaned in for their first kiss.

(setting: Rose Ceremony)

Veronica, Ethel, Cheryl, Ginger, Melody, Josie, Betty, Midge, Katherine, and Valerie entered the room. There were seven roses on the table.

Archie entered the room. “Before I go into this, I just want you all to know, it was such a huge honor to meet all of you. And if you don’t get a rose tonight, that doesn’t mean that you aren’t amazing. I just have to go with my heart, and I do feel confident in the decisions that I made.”

He picked up the first rose. Took a deep breath. “Josie.”

Josie walked over to him. “Josie, will you accept this rose?” Archie asked.

“How else are we supposed to jam together?” she asked playfully as she accepted his rose, and went back to her spot.

He picked up the second rose. “Ethel.”

Ethel’s eyes widened in disbelief. “I’m shocked. Everyone else is so beautiful.”

“And so are you,” Archie said. “Ethel, will you accept this rose?”

“Of course.”

Archie picked up the third rose. “Melody.”

Melody walked over to him. “Melody, will you accept this rose?”

“I have to, you’re my valentine.”

Archie grinned as he picked up the fourth rose. “Veronica.”

Veronica walked over to him. “Veronica, will you accept this rose?”

“I’d be happy to, Archiekins.”

Archie chuckled, and picked up the fifth rose. “Cheryl.”

She walked over to him. “Cheryl, will you accept this rose?”

“It’s my greatest pleasure to accept this rose.”

Archie laughed as he picked up the sixth rose. “Betty.”

Betty walked over to him. “Betty, will you accept this rose?”

“Absolutely, Arch.”

He blushed. Then took a deep breath. Last rose of the night.

Katherine, Midge, and Ginger were intently watching him pick up the rose.

Archie shut his eyes for a moment. Then he opened them.

“Midge.”

Midge walked over to him. “Midge, will you accept this rose?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

Chris Harrison entered the room. “Ladies, if you did not get a rose, I’m sorry. Take a moment. Say your goodbyes.”

Ginger walked over to Archie, and gave him a hug. “Good luck with everything.”

He smiled. “Thank you.”

Katherine walked over to Archie. “I’m sorry you don’t see how much a wifey I am. Your loss,” she said, rolling her eyes and exiting the mansion.

Archie laughed. He looked at the remaining women. He raised a glass. “Cheers to a wonderful journey to find true love. I can honestly say, my wife is in this room.”

“Cheers!” the women said in uinison.

------------END CREDITS-------

#jeronica #barchie #ronniesqueenAU #I just realized how long this was and I'M SORRY I SWEAR THE SECOND EPISODE WON'T BE THIS LONG #varchie #archosie

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kylermalloy · 4 years ago

Text

Set in the boyking!Klaus AU

He is losing Elijah.

Mikael watches his sons lounge under a tree side by side. They hold hands. Niklaus plays with Elijah’s fingers, running his hand over them one by one.

After some time, Niklaus guides the same hand to rest on his thigh, where he continues to stroke Elijah’s fingers.

It’s the expression on Elijah’s face—slightly unfocused, enraptured, breathless. Ecstatic.

From a simple touch.

That is what convinces him.

He needs to tear Elijah from Niklaus. The devil child has sunk his claws into Mikael’s second son, and he must do something about it.

Esther is perplexed when he informs her of his plans. A hunting trip? Now? We have enough meat for another moon.

Finn and Elijah, he hedges. They’re growing up. They need more experience.

Esther shrugs.

Elijah responds with quiet acceptance, as he usually does. That is, until he is informed that Niklaus will not be coming along.

He bites his lip, winding one arm around Niklaus, who clings to him like a lifeline.

How many days? he asks.

As many as it takes, Mikael says. His gaze is on Niklaus, whose lip has begun to quiver. His bright blue eyes widen, filling with tears that begin to flow and do not stop.

Elijah places a consoling hand on Niklaus’s golden hair, his own expression despondent.

As long as it takes to shake that blight from your mind, Mikael adds silently.

Elijah reluctantly prepares to depart, gathering weapons and provisions and a fur pelt for the cold nights. All the while Niklaus trails after him, tears spilling down his cheeks as he pleads with Elijah to stay.

Mikael waits impatiently with Finn by the large oak while Elijah kneels before Niklaus, thumbing the tears from his cheeks and speaking quietly to him. Brushing the hair from his face. Gripping his arms assuredly. Enveloping him in an embrace, kissing his forehead.

Niklaus places one hand on Elijah’s face, thumb stroking his cheek. Elijah spasms. His eyes close.

In the brief moment that Elijah is not looking, Niklaus turns his head and looks directly at Mikael. Through his tears, there is a fury in his face that no boy of eleven years should carry.

The hair on the back of Mikael’s neck prickles, as though sensing a predator—or an attacker.

Then the moment is over. Elijah stands, slinging his bow over his shoulder. He walks away from Niklaus, toward Mikael and Finn, who straightens from his crouch and remarks, Finally.

No one else has seen. As always, Mikael is left alone in his knowledge.

Elijah’s face pinches with emotion as he nears Mikael. Niklaus watches him go, face shining with tears. Standing alone, shoulders slumped and face smudged, he looks almost as helpless as he should.

Almost.

As they leave the village, Niklaus follows them to the edge. He clings to a tree at the border, staring after them tearfully.

Elijah glances back until Niklaus falls from sight.

Mikael breathes a little easier.

Esther watches her sons say their goodbyes. Both are pained by the separation, but Niklaus appears inconsolable. Tears spill from his big blue eyes like they haven’t since he was an infant.

She follows him to the edge of the village, ready to console him as Elijah, Finn, and Mikael disappear into the trees.

But as soon as they are gone, something changes.

When Niklaus turns around, his face is calm and composed. He passes a hand over his cheeks, wiping away the tears—which have stopped flowing almost alarmingly fast.

His brow is smooth, his eyes clear. His lips press into a thin line.

Niklaus? Are you all right?

He meets her eyes coolly. I will be, Mother.

Mikael takes them far.

Finn and Elijah follow unquestioningly, deeper and deeper into unknown woods. They do not stop—not for the deer Finn sees in the distance, not for the burrow of rabbits that could be trapped.

Elijah continues to look back from time to time. Looking, searching for the cursed child he left behind.

Mikael watches him closely, waiting for the spell to break. How far must he travel? How many days must they spend apart, before Elijah is whole again?

Niklaus seems adrift without Elijah.

Esther watches him wander the village aimlessly. His fingers flutter empty at his side. He sighs often, long loud breaths meant to catch others’ attention, for them to ask him his troubles.

Esther did wonder if Mikael’s impromptu trip was another of his attempts to separate Elijah from Niklaus.

Although her secret is safe from Mikael, her husband still harbors an intense grudge against Niklaus.

Her sweet, golden boy. Her secret joy.

He becomes petulant and cross without his brother to temper him.

Rebekah tries to console him. She follows him all day, placing a hand on his shoulder, speaking softly to him. More than once he pushes her away, but she will not be deterred.

—That is, until she comes home in tears, cradling her arm, after Niklaus pushed her down a knoll.

You ought to know better, Esther chides him as she binds Rebekah’s wrist. You’re a strong, growing boy. You must know to stop before you hurt someone. Especially your sister.

He shrugs.

They make camp after walking all day. Elijah eats little. While Finn sleeps soundly, Elijah tosses and turns on his pallet.

Sleep evades Mikael. The woods are peaceful tonight, but he cannot shake Niklaus’s expression from his mind.

Niklaus haunts him day and night.

He enters the camp, having followed them undetected since they left home. He kneels over Elijah’s sleeping form, inhales his hair.

You can’t save him from me, he hisses in Mikael’s ear. Mikael is paralyzed, unable to reach for his weapons.

He’s mine. He will always be mine.

Mikael wakes with a strangled gasp.

The family next door wonders where their dog has gone.

Rebekah stays inside, playing with Henrik. She moves her injured wrist gingerly.

Niklaus returns from the woods, announcing he has found a beehive full of honey.

His hair, hands, and sleeves are inexplicably damp. He must have fallen in the stream, Esther reasons. Wouldn’t be the first time.

She recruits him and Kol to collect the honey.

The bees have all gone from the hive when they arrive, leaving a bounty of honey for them. She reminds her sons not to sample too much as they harvest it. Niklaus in particular savors the taste, licking golden drops off his fingers.

We must save some for Lijah, he declares. When he returns.

Of course, Esther reassures him. There will be plenty for him, and Finn. And Father.

Niklaus smiles his bright, honey-sweet smile. Not Father. Father can’t enjoy sweet things. He’s too bitter.

The snares prove plentiful. Finn and Elijah return from their scouting with four squirrels and a rabbit.

They lunch on two of the squirrels. Finn finishes Elijah’s portion when he declares he is not hungry.

Elijah is quiet for most of the day. He reaches out to empty air often, reaching on instinct for someone who is not there. He stares into the distance when Finn mentions home, or their family. (He knows better than to mention Niklaus by name, though.)

If it is not distance from Niklaus that will break the spell, then it must take time. Mikael vows to keep Elijah away for as long as it takes.

Niklaus has always been Esther’s special child. She has watched him carefully, gifted him an enchanted necklace to temper the bloodlust he would inherit from his father.

He hums with an energy different to his siblings. Different to Freya and Kol, her children gifted with magic. Different to Ansel and his brethren, whose blood runs a curse through their veins.

Perhaps the mix of magic and the curse created something new in him. (Something Mikael must never know about.)

Ever since Mikael has taken Finn and Elijah away, that difference has become more pronounced.

The hum in his blood is louder, a thrumming in Esther’s ears. When she catches him sitting still, he nearly vibrates with restless energy.

Niklaus, are you all right?

His head tilts to one side, golden hair falling in his eyes. I will be.

Four days in. Elijah seems tired. He has continued to eat little—a few bites of meat or dried fruit each day. Despite his fatigue, he still tosses and turns in the night, unable to sleep peacefully.

They fell a deer. Finn suggests they bring it home, but stops when he sees Mikael’s expression. He has no intent of returning home until he’s satisfied that Elijah is free.

Ayana complains of her birds going missing. She and Esther combine their magic to perform a spell to locate them—to no avail. It’s as if they’ve disappeared from the face of the earth.

Niklaus volunteers to wash his own things in the stream. She lets him, grateful for the help.

They are running low on supplies. Finn observes—rightfully—that the game will spoil if not dried soon.

Mikael sends him back to the village with their kills. He stays with Elijah, who has begun to skip meals altogether.

Niklaus runs to greet Finn excitedly, before realizing Elijah is not with him. Esther places a comforting hand on his shoulder. He’ll be back soon. In a day or two. You’ll see.

Later that day, Rebekah comes to tell her Henrik is crying at home and won’t stop.

What happened? she asks.

Rebekah shrugs. I left him with Nik. When I came back, he was in floods.

Henrik is a master of words by now. He speaks all day long, for the most part using words everyone can understand.

But none of Esther’s coaxing convinces him to tell her what upset him so badly.

Father, I don’t feel well. Elijah is pale. He hunches over on his pallet, after yet another sleepless night.

You should eat something, Finn scoffs. It’s been two days.

Elijah wrinkles his nose. He chews on a piece of dried meat, tossing it into the leaves unfinished after half a day.

He doesn’t sleep again that night.

Nor does Mikael. Niklaus glides into their camp again, eyes and skin shining like the wood alves from the old world.

He lays one hand on Elijah’s forehead. You thought he could escape me? You thought he would want to? His voice envelops Mikael, whispering in both his ears like an enchantment.

He loves me. He only fears you.

Niklaus is sprawled on his back, looking up at the sky.

It’s nearly suppertime, Esther calls to him. There’s deer or rabbit. Niklaus, she repeats when he does not answer. What do you want?

He doesn’t move. I want my brother back.

He’s burning up, Father, Finn announces. Would it not be best to bring him home, so Mother can care for him?

Mikael seethes. Fight through it, Elijah. You are strong.

He hopes.

Esther offers the little ones honey on their bread, as a treat.

Niklaus shakes his head, turning his sweet radiant smile on her. Not for me, Mother. I’m saving mine.

Nine days in the forest. Elijah has burned with a fever for nearly half of them. His voice scratches in his throat. He can barely stand.

Mikael swore to keep him away until Niklaus’s hold over him was broken.

It isn’t magic, Niklaus sneers. He grows more impatient.

There is no spell to break. I will have him because he wants me, Mikael.

Mikael shudders.

After ten days, Mikael finally relents. Esther does not need to lose another child. He and Finn hoist Elijah between them and carry him home.

Upon the hunting party’s return, Niklaus will not be torn from Elijah’s side. He holds his hand while Esther and Ayana treat him with herbs (and a few whispered spells). He holds Elijah’s head on his lap until he wakes.

When Elijah’s eyes open, he comes back to life. Color seems to return to his cheeks, the heaviness leaving his limbs. He reaches up to cradle his brother’s face while Niklaus holds him close, exclaiming softly but excitedly.

Niklaus feeds Elijah supper that evening, letting him lick drops of honey from his fingers after a meal of bread and fruit.

Esther catches him dozing upright late in the evening, Elijah’s head still on his lap.

Niklaus. She shakes him gently to wake him. Are you all right, my love?

His eyes are bleary, exhausted. There is a tangle of honey stuck in his hair. But he smiles, his blue eyes shining with contentment. Yes, Mother.

Mikael gnashes his teeth when he sees how readily the two boys snap back together. Elijah, so wearied by whatever fever overtook him in the forest, recovers quickly in the arms of his hungry-eyed brother.

Niklaus breathes Elijah in, holding him close as if to make up for all the lost days.

He made no trouble, Esther reassures him. Although he missed his brother.

Mikael is awakened in the night by harsh breathing close to his ear. He reaches instinctively for his knife, but it is not beside his pillow.

He opens his eyes to see Niklaus’s slender figure. Looming over him, staring at him with those cold, pale eyes.

Don’t you ever, he snarls, take him away from me again.

Mikael closes his eyes again and waits, through his pounding heart, for Niklaus to disappear. (He drank too much at the homecoming meal.)

When he wakes in the morning, his knife is still nowhere to be found.

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aelin-and-feyre · 6 years ago

Text

When We’re Married Chapter 12

Rowaelin Arranged Marriage AU - Fanfic Masterlist

Finally done! There will only be three chapters more of this fic so they will be packed with stuff. This one is just fun though lol. Enjoy!

Rowan’s lips are on fire. Whether from the passion of the kiss or a sign of Aelin’s magic, he’s not sure. But he is happy—so outstandingly, unequivocally happy—and he smiles against her mouth. His hands cup the side of her face, tilting her up to him. His fingers are half-buried in her hair. The wavy strands glide through his fingers like silk and Rowan makes a mental note to braid it one day. He also realizes why she’s always twisting and playing with her hair. The scent alone is driving him insane.

Aelin’s hands bunch into the fabric of his shirt, knuckles bracing against his stomach and grappling for a something steady. He wonders if her knees are just as weak as his. The kiss is soft, caressing, and unstoppable. Rowan knows for a fact that no first kiss has ever or will ever be this... magical. He pushes her lips open with a swipe of his tongue. He both hears and feels Aelin sigh against him, persuaded to agree with her sentiment. She tastes like lavender and smoky bacon, a combination that shouldn’t go together but is making his head dizzy.

His neck is starting to strain with the awkward way he’s bending over but Rowan can barely feel the pain. All he registers is her tongue in his mouth and her skin both mottled with scars and smooth under his fingers and her hands maneuvering around his waist to clutch at the small of his back, making him take an almost involuntary step towards her. Rowan briefly indulges himself in fantasizing what it would be like to move his hands down, to lift her up and for her to wrap her legs around his waist. To carry her to the shade of an apple tree and lay there forever with his mate.

Yes. His mate. It seems so simple now. Because there is no longer a single doubt in his mind that this female is, and forever will be, the second half of his soul.

Heat emanates from Aelin’s body, soaking through his skin and warming his blood. Rowan’s own magic responds in kind, lifting their hair with large gusts of wind. Frost tingles at his fingertips and he feels Aelin smile against the nip of cold on her cheeks.

She pulls away first, Rowan chasing her mouth and tugging on her lower lip with his teeth. She growls playfully and he relinquishes the kiss. He opens his eyes slowly, feeling intoxicated and slightly dizzy. His magic helps fill both their lungs, making breathing a little bit easier, but nothing can help his racing heart. Aelin looks up at him in wonder and amazement, lifting her hand to encase his own. She turns her head and kisses his palm, right over the black ink that shows the pain of his past. Right over the scar that marks their carranam bond.

The scar tingles at the soft contact, causing Rowan to loose a long, measured breath. When Aelin turns back to meet his gaze, she looks hesitant—unsure. For the first time, Rowan can’t tell what she is thinking.

There is absolutely no reason he shouldn’t tell her about their mating bond. Except, just as he realizes this, Rowan’s mind fills with contradictions. They’ve never really talked about the marriage. From day one the topic has been taboo, both of them skirting around it like a pool of quicksand in this meadow of serenity they’ve created for themselves. But... what if all of this is just her way of coping with the situation? What if she doesn’t want to marry him but is suffering through it for the sake of her country? What if she still doesn’t want this arrangement—much less a mating bond?

As per usual around the princess, Rowan’s mind splits in half as he debates the pros and cons of expressing his feelings. In the past, in Maeve’s service and on a battlefield, Rowan would never allow his heart to dictate his head. The results could be catastrophic. The prince reminds himself of this very fact.

But Aelin is his friend, they trust each other, and the truth is bound to come out at some point. Steeling himself for rejection, or disappointment, or disgust, Rowan takes a deep breath. “Aelin-” he says at the same time she murmurs, “Rowan-”

Neither of them finishes their sentence as Fleetfoot starts barking at the sky. Aelin and Rowan step away from each other, hands falling to their sides and faces heating like teenagers being caught by their parents. They turn to look westward as a resounding boom echoes through Orynth.

Huge, dragon-like figures breach the line of Staghorn Mountains, their flapping wings creating a cacophony of thundering thwaps. Rowan assumes his place directly behind Aelin, fingers twitching to grab her and take her back to the guarded palace and safety. His instincts scream at him to protect his mate from whatever these creatures are.

Aelin reaches back and links their fingers together—backward, so their knuckles catch, but it’s enough to soothe him. She leans into him and he feels the deep sigh she releases. “We better get back. The witches have arrived.”

...

Aelin is at her wit's end when she and Rowan arrive at the palace again, Fleetfoot deposited at the kennel until she can be retrieved later. Her heart hasn’t stopped racing since her discovery of the mating bond. The kiss didn’t help. That earth-shattering, soul clenching, wonderful kiss that feels better than magic, easier than breathing. She can still taste him in her mouth; that heady, pine and snow scent that is a staple of Terrasen. So, of course, it would be attached to her soulmate. Just standing beside Rowan now is almost too much for her. She got a taste of him, and now it’s taking all of her proper self-control not to claim her mate for her own.

Four more days, she has to remind herself as they straighten themselves out and prepare for their visitors. The cold marble floor tells her she forgot her shoes in the orchard and it’s too late to go back for them now. She brushes dirt from her sundress, runs her fingers through her ruffled hair, and wipes the smeared rouge from the sides of her mouth. Then she notices that she left a trace on the prince’s lips as well. Aelin pulls Rowan to a standstill just before the throne room doors. Without proper removal liquid, she resorts to licking her thumb and rubbing at the damning evidence.

Rowan stands completely still while she wipes gently, careful not to irritate the skin or smear the cosmetics across his cheek. She can feel his eyes trained on her face but she can’t bring herself to meet them. It’s only when Rowan’s mouth opens slightly and he catches her thumb between his lips, his tongue pushing against the pad of her finger delicately, that she finally raises her gaze to look at him. The desire shining there lets Aelin know that she is not alone in her craving for him.

Damn the witches and their poor timing.

A rumble shakes the castle and Aelin’s hand falls back to her side. The beasts have landed, and their wyverns have too. Part of Aelin thinks that this wedding is just a ploy to establish communication and friendship with the witches. It doesn’t sit well with her.

Pushing the feeling aside, Aelin rises on her tiptoes to whisper in Rowan’s ear, using his shoulder to steady herself. “We’ll talk later.” It’s a promise, more than anything else. She meant to tell him about what she’d discovered immediately after the kiss. Now, the moment was gone.

His eyes meet hers as she descends back to flat feet. ‘Absolutely,’ they tell her.

With a flourish she’s perfected over the years, Aelin opens the double doors to the throne room and stalks in, Rowan just a step behind her. A small party is waiting, gathered in preparation for the new arrivals. The King and Queen sit at the other end of the long hall, Dorian, Nehemia, and Ansel standing closest to them—all royalty in their own right. The aisle in the middle is marked by a Terrasen-green carpet which Aelin feels poking between her bare toes as she walks across the room. Her head remains high, though she knows there is a swath of dirt marking the side of her blue skirt.

She can practically feel the amusement pouring off of her friends. Rowan quickens his steps to walk beside her, grasping her hand in a comforting gesture. Knowing now how deep her bond with Rowan stretches, and that everything he’s done hasn’t just been an act, gives Aelin an extra boost of confidence. She meets Aedion’s eyes, daring him to say something about her state. She does the same to Nehemia and Chaol and Ansel, her smirk growing with each averted gaze. She’s getting married in four days, she can have a bit of fun with her future husband.

Lysandra, noticing her lack of footwear, immediately steps out of her own slippers and hands them to Aelin. The princess sends her a thankful smile. She blinks, and then a ghost leopard is sitting in Lysandra’s place. The beast takes position on the other side of Aelin as they continue their trek to the smaller, empty throne beside the Queen.

Aelin sits gracefully, a move that would have made her governess weep with pride, and Rowan lets go of her hand, standing to the left of her chair. His hands are clasped behind his back but—gods, she can’t stop touching him—she reaches over and tugs on his arm until he relents and twines their fingers together again. Lysandra sits at her feet, deceptively lazy but most certainly alert.

Once she’s settled, attention directs back to the doors through which the newest guests will be arriving any moment. Aelin’s father stands and clasps his hands in front of him. “I would like to remind everyone that the witches are our allies. We will welcome them with the grace expected of our positions. This joyous occasion,” he throws a soft smile toward Rowan and Aelin, “is a wonderful excuse to further our relationship with the new rulers of witchdom.”

All murmur their acquiescence, the shuffle of nervous feet and trembling breaths echoing against the walls. The room is so quiet that they can all hear the footsteps of the witches on the marble floor outside. A deliberate sound, because Aelin knows they can be silent if they want to be.

The tension is palpable. Not enough people have been in contact with the witches to know what to expect. Guards have been tripled, and many have hands already on the hilt of their swords. This will not go well if the atmosphere remains so toxic.

The steps are getting closer.

Aelin looks to Ansel. The Queen of the Wastes is the only one seemingly not anxious for this meeting, and thus the perfect ally. Aelin nods to her and Ansel’s mouth tilts up on one side. Then, the doors burst open and thirteen witches march into the room.

Their ethereal grace and beauty offset the sheer magnitude of power and force rolling off of them, but they still exude fear. The one at the front is breathtakingly beautiful to anyone’s standards, with long white hair and golden eyes that glint with morbid curiosity as she examines the room and people surrounding her. There are no iron nails or teeth in sight, but no doubt they are ready to snap into place at a moment’s notice.

Each of the witches stand at high alert as they march down the aisle, watching each other’s backs, eyes flicking from one point to another. Before the party can reach the dais, Ansel steps a few feet forward to greet them first, just as Aelin had asked her to.

She feels most of the room take a collective inhale. Lysandra’s tail flicks anxiously.

The golden-eyed leader grins wickedly at Ansel. “Your Witchness,” Ansel greets, nodding her head in deference.

“Your Bitchness,” the witch bites back, eyes narrowing as the two queens stare each other down. No one breathes. And then, both females burst out laughing. They clasp forearms and their smirks stretch into warm smiles. Aelin blinks, but it’s the only outward surprise she shows. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Chaol’s mouth fall open slightly. “Good to see you, Ansel,” says the witch queen.

“I would say the same, Manon, but I’m rather offended that you still look flawless after hours of flying.” Nervous chuckles reverberate around the room to echo Manon’s responding laughter. Ansel turns to gesture toward the dais. “King Rhoe and Queen Evalin of Terrasen, may I introduce Queen Manon Blackbeak Chrochan of the Wastes Witchdom.”

Rhoe stands and walks the few steps down to shake Manon’s hand. Aelin watches closely for any sign of metal claws. “Welcome, Your Majesty, I am so pleased you could join us for this special event.”

Aelin can tell that the witch isn’t used to smiling, probably not used to being polite at all, but she forces a kind grin and nods her head. “I’m glad we could make it as well, I would extend my congratulations but I believe this was simply a business arrangement.” Her piercing eyes cut to Aelin, for it wouldn’t have been that hard to pick out the princess. She notices the slight amazement when the witch takes in Rowan as well. Pride swells in her stomach, but then the queen’s words sink in. “I wonder if condolences are more fitting,” she adds after a long, tense moment.

And then, Aelin sees the curious looks the other witches are throwing their way. There are some Fae on the continent, but surely not many in the Wastes, and none that look like Rowan. Something sharp and foreboding twists in Aelin’s gut as she watches that curiosity turn into delight and mild hunger.

Anger and jealousy flare up inside her like an errant fire and she has to temper the sparks tingling on her fingertips. She feels Rowan’s own hand shoot bursts of cold down their entwined fingers, whether a sign of his own irritation or to calm her, she’s not sure. But she doesn’t look at him as she stands. Lysandra slinks out of her way as Aelin stalks carefully down to them.

“I heard that witches were able to see the future, so I’m sure you know that if your friends keep looking at my betrothed like that, I will burn their eyeballs into ash.” Interest and amusement sparks in those golden eyes as Aelin stops right in front of Manon. The king and Ansel wisely back away a few feet. “And I also think you need to take another look at your crystal ball because it would do you well to remember that not everything in front of you is what it seems.” She won’t outwardly admit her and Rowan’s connection, not until they’ve talked about it, but no one will mock their marriage in her own home.

Lysandra rubs against the side of her leg soothingly. Aelin feels pride skate down a mating bond she didn’t even realize could portray emotions. Manon grins, iron teeth snapping down from her gums like tiny daggers. “Aelin, I presume?” When the princess nods, the witch continues, “You don’t have as weak of a spine as I thought you might. Good. I assume we will get along just fine—as long as you keep those flames away from my witches.”

Aelin glanced to the twelve other witches to see their attention no longer on Rowan, but fixed on her with macabre delight. It had been a test. Of how easily the next ruler of Terrasen would back down from a fight. She’d passed. Allowing a little magic to slip through her veins, Aelin lighted a flame crown atop her hair and grinned right back. “Keep your iron away from my people and it’s a deal.”

Manon’s iron teeth disappear at the same moment Aelin extinguishes her crown. She sticks her hand out, and the witch grabs her forearm in the same fashion she had with Ansel. “How refreshing—a wedding. I shall congratulate you, Rowan Whitethorn is quite a catch.”

Aelin turns to look over her shoulder at Rowan, who is smiling peacefully a few steps behind, hands tucked into his pockets and a tint of rouge still slightly apparent on his mouth. She smiles softly at him, sending a flicker of love down the mate bond, not sure if he can feel it. “He sure is.”

...

Rowan walks a step behind his mate and the witch queen as they venture through the halls, Dorian right next to him. The King of Adarlan has been following Manon for the last three hours, getting words in here and there. Rowan can’t tell if its morbid curiosity, lust, or something else that is prompting the man’s obvious interest. He’s also confused why Manon seems so standoffish toward Dorian. She seems intent only on gaining Aelin’s confidence—which, in the long run, is a smart move.

“I like your beast,” Manon remarks, jerking her chin toward ghost leopard Lysandra who wanders along with them.

Aelin pats Lysandra’s head. “She’s a shapeshifter. We’d both love to meet your beasts, Lysandra has been dying to try their form.” At her words, the leopard purrs her agreement and Manon grins.

“Abraxos would appreciate a new friend. We could venture out after dinner and explore. I’ve never much been to the skies of Terrasen.” The witch shoots Rowan a look. “You can fly, correct?”

He nods. “Indeed. If Lysandra can get her wings under her fast enough, we would love to join you.”

Dorian looks like he’s about to say something but Manon beats him to it. “You’re welcome to come as well, kingling.” Her teeth glint with the faintest traces of iron and malice. “You can ride with me.”

The king is speechless for a moment. “I would enjoy that, yes.” And the familiarity with which he says it makes Rowan wonder if the two of them have met before.

Aelin also notices and Rowan can feel her apprehension down their realized bond. He wonders if she knows she’s doing it. Or if she can feel his emotions too. It’s all so much different than it was with Lyria and Rowan can’t believe how foolish he was to not notice before. He needs to speak to Aelin and get everything out in the open.

A thought strikes him that is both horrific and essential at the same time. Rowan falters a step and Dorian glances at him quizzically. He musters up a faint reassuring smile.

He will talk to her about the bond. But if Aelin doesn’t want a mate, it is his duty to respect her wishes. He should give her that choice. Before, he thought marrying her was something he had to accept and go through with, to keep his family’s good name and get away from Doranelle. But now he realizes he could very easily walk out of Orynth and never come back if that is what she desires. It would tear his soul apart but he’d do it. For her. She never asked for any of this. He must offer her a way out. Before they walk down the aisle in four days.

He loves her. But he’s not marrying her unless she loves him too.

They’ll get through tonight in the sky and then he’ll find a time to talk to her. Soon.

Masterlist

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